Robots, man. Robots.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and thanks to Bel for gently correcting my French :3

Chapter Three: The Sacking of Teufort

All rational thought fled Sniper. His entire body seized up, paralyzed by horror. The world had narrowed to the dark barrel of a gun. Beyond that, there was nothing. He stared up at the robot with his heart in his mouth and waited for the inevitable.

"LAWRENCE!"

With a hiss and a snap Spy decloaked behind the Sniperbot. The Sniperbot jerked and slumped forward, Spy's knife buried deep into the joints of its neck. Spy yanked it out again smoothly as the sparking robot fell to the floor. Spy scowled, his blade gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes fell to Sniper. "Lawrence, you useless kiwi! Get up!"

Sniper had been staring at the Sniperbot in a mixture of wonder and terror, but Spy's words jerked him out of his reverie faster than any amount of present danger could have. He glowered up at Spy and stood, wincing at small aches and pains. Nevertheless he managed to poke Spy in the chest. "Don't call me a kiwi, ya stale croissant."

"Stale?!"

"Ya heard me!"

"Listen, you—"

"If you two are done arguing over culturally appropriate insults," Medic's muffled voice sounded from under a pile of debris, "some assistance is required."

All around them was chaos; rain and wind swept in through the gaping hole in the wall, red lights flashed and sirens shrieked overhead. The crashes and shouts overhead were their own team finally waking to the present danger, but Spy paid his surroundings no heed. As Sniper pulled the rumpled and bleeding Medic out of the ruins of his office, Spy nudged the Sniperbot with his foot. He circled around it with head tilted, taking in the undeniably Lawrence-like details.

Medic leaned against Sniper as he stood. There was a growing dark spot on his torso, but his mortal peril seemed to concern him far less than the robot. He adjusted his cracked glasses, eyes wide. "Is zhat…?"

"A robot," Spy replied. "With your charming likeness, bushman."

Sniper eased Medic up against his desk, which had made it through the blast in one piece, and turned back to the ruins of the room. He started digging through glass and wood, evidently in search of the Medigun. He shuddered as Spy spoke. "Don't even talk about it, mate. Jus' looking at that…that thing gives me the heebie-jeebies." He stomped his boot through a particularly stubborn plank of wood. "Aha, here we go, doc—"

"INCOMING!"

With that howl what remained of Medic's office door was blasted to smithereens. In the smoking remains of the doorway stood Demoman, panting wildly and swinging his stickybomb launcher this way and that. "WHERE ARE THEY?! THE BLOODY BASTARDS, I'M GONNA SEND 'EM TO FOOKIN' HELL FOR THIS—"

"TAVISH!"

Medic's bark silenced Demoman in an instant. He lowered his weapon and finally looked around to actually see what was going on. His singular eye locked on the robot. "Some experiment of yours, doc?"

"Hardly," Medic managed through gritted teeth. He grimaced and pressed a hand to his abdomen, cursing in German. Blood seeped through his shirt and his fingers. "If it were, I assure you, it would not be dispatched that easily."

"Not a comforting notion," Spy observed. He glanced over his shoulder at the gaping hole in the wall and stiffened.

Sniper had retrieved the Medigun and handed it off to its proper owner, who put it to good use straight away. Medic breathed in and out slowly as the healing formula closed over his wound. His face regained a little color and with that encouragement Sniper took his leave to join Spy at the shattered wall. Medic watched him go, and after a moment joined the duo.

Demoman inched towards the robot. "If it ain't yours," he said, "and it ain't BLUs', then who the hell—?" He looked up, following the gaze of the support classes. His breath caught in his throat.

At that instant, Soldier, Heavy, Scout and Pyro all appeared in ruins of Medic's office, wielding their best weapons and shouting curses at the top of their lungs, promising to kill whoever had been rude enough to wake them at this absurd hour and destroy Medic's office. One by one their eyes saw what the rest where seeing. One by one they fell silent.

The BLU base was burning.

Across the bridge and through the howling storm, flames licked up the sides of the BLU base and burst through the windows. The structure groaned and heaved from side-to-side, shuddering as an inner structure collapsed. Among the bedlam figures dressed all in blue darted, screaming at each other for aid and blasting as the clanking metallic enemy, who marched forward with the calculating coldness only a machine was capable of.

As the REDs watched, stunned, what appeared to be a giant stickybomb on spindly legs darted from the front lines of the robotic advance. It dodged the BLU Soldier's rocket with an unnerving gracefulness and stooped to a crouch. A split-second later it exploded, blasting a sturdy wall to smithereens and scattering shrapnel every which way. Someone screamed in agony.

Scout paled and tightened his grip on his bat. "We need to go help! We need to go or else those frickin' BLUs are gonna get wasted!"

"No." Spy continued to stare into the inferno as Soldier and Demoman both stepped forward. "No, we need to get out of 'ere. Now." Collectively the RED team looked to the Spy, some in shock and others more contemplative.

Scout just scowled. He hoisted his baseball bat onto his shoulder. "I'm not a coward, Spy! You can stay here and hide but I ain't afraid of no robots! 'sides, you think they're just gonna turn and leave once they're done with the BLUs? I'm not lettin' 'em get the jump on me." He turned away and jumped through the hole in the wall. Soldier spared Spy a dark look and followed suit, Demoman on his heels. Heavy and Medic joined them, Sasha already whirring.

Spy snapped his arm out, catching Sniper at the chest as the Aussie moved forward. Sniper glanced down at his friend, eyes narrowed. "He's roight, y'know. We can't just leave 'em."

"Lawrence," Spy's tone was curt, "do you remember what 'appened last time we squared off against robots? If I recall correctly, it did not end so well for us." He finally wrenched his gaze away from the firefight to look at Sniper. What visible face he had was pale.

Dimly, Sniper recalled a blast of white heat and pain across his back. The taste of blood was in his mouth again. All the same he looked from Spy to the BLU base. "We can't just leave 'em, spook. They're the bloody BLUs, but I wouldn't even a bloody BLU to…this." He swept a hand out. More screams and shouts echoed around them, punctured by gunfire and whistling explosions. A hissing flare streaked upwards into the sky, painting them in bloody red light. Rain swept in sideways, smattering them with tiny, cold pinpricks.

Spy remained unruffled. "Get the van."

"But—"

"We are outnumbered and outgunned. If we can get ourselves out of 'ere alive I will consider it a miracle. We don't have time to argue, Lawrence! We can give the BLUs what aid we can, but at the end of the day my concern is keeping my handful of blathering idiots alive! Go get your bloody van!"

With that he vanished on the spot, leaving Sniper to gape at empty air. He found himself locking eyes with Pyro, who tilted its head curiously, waiting for instructions.

Sniper nodded along to a private train of thoughts. "Tex is in his workshop, yeah?"

"Huddah."

"Go get 'im. If we're lucky, we got 'bout ten minutes 'fore this all goes to hell—"

Another explosion went off and the RED base trembled, sprinkling debris over the pair.

"All roight. Make that five."

…

"YAHAHA!"

With the shrieking wail a rocket exploded into the middle of a hoard of robots, scattering robotic limbs and sparking wires every-which-way. Soldier grinned, reloaded, and fired again, roaring challenges all the time. He slid his trusty shovel out from behind his back and began to smack this way and that, relishing the crunch of dented heads. "I WARNED YOU!" he roared. "I WARNED YOU ABOUT THE TOASTER, AND YOU DIDN'T LISTEN!"

"Give it a rest, Sol!" Demoman barked. "THIS AIN'T ABOUT THE DAMN TOASTER!"

They stood back-to-back, spinning in circles and blasting apart everything that so much as looked metal. They were surrounded by a sea of gray, occasionally broken by a blot of red or blue as the remaining mercenaries frantically fought off the onslaught. Demoman winced as he saw the BLU Sniper go crashing down to the ground, blasted out of his perch. He hit with a sickening crunch and didn't rise. "Sol," he said in undertones, "this ain't good."

Soldier pushed his helmet up over his forehead for an instant in order to appraise his best friend. "I don't believe in surrender—SCOUT! STOP PRANCING AROUND UP THERE!"

Scout's footsteps thundered overhead as the speedster racing the length of the bridge's cover, sending robots flying into the drink. He roared with laughter as a Scoutbot went tumbling. "THAT'S RIGHT, YA CHEAP SONUVABITCH! YA CAN'T BEAT THE ORIGINAL FLAVAH!"

He took a moment to assess the situation, annoyed to see the rest of the REDs scattered in a million different directions. How were they supposed to get anything done if they weren't going to take this threat seriously?

A flash of blue caught his attention and instinctively Scout pivoted, holding his gun aloft. He lowered it just as quickly, freezing in place as he watched the BLU Scout dart out of the BLU base, holding a limp form to him as he stumbled and fell, overwhelmed by smoke. Behind him a Scoutbot appeared, weapons at the ready.

Metal smacked against metal with a resounding clank! and Scoutbot's head went flying. The RED Scout watched it sail through the air with relish, grinning when it landed in the mud some ten yards away. "Homerun! Whaddya think-a that, chucklefuck?"

The BLU Scout wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth and scowled up at the RED. "Not half-bad. If you were battin' with your eyes closed."

"All right, first of all, fuck you." The RED extended his hand to his fallen counterpart. "Second of all, I could use a little help here."

The BLU grinned and accepted his hand, allowing the RED to haul him to his feet. The Bostonians cracked their necks and rolled their shoulders back in unison, grinning darkly at the swarming hordes of robots. "First one to fall is a Yankees fan."

With the gleeful, reckless abandon of youth they dove into the fray, vaulting over robots and smashing them aside with a bloody grace. The RED Scout slid into the mud, firing his scattergun in every direction. Behind him the BLU slammed a Medicbot upside the head, cleaving head from neck. "THAT'S FOR MY TEAM!"

They worked in tandem, dancing around and sliding around the robot army. The robots may have had numbers, but the Scouts had wits and anger on their side, and so they buried themselves deeper and deeper into enemy lines, bashing this way and that, leaving a mess of metallic carnage in their wake. The RED Scout dipped and rolled to his feet, blasting a Demobot away from the BLU Scout.

The BLU blinked and grinned. "Thanks, man."

"Don't mention it."

Something small, fast, and hot clipped the RED Scout's ear and he yelped, jumping backwards out of the sudden spray of bullets from overhead. He rubbed at his reddened ear and cursed under his breath. He scanned the ruined BLU base, noting with alarm that they were being rapidly surrounded on all sides. "Okay, we gotta get outta here. We gotta get outta here right fuckin' now—" He spun towards his counterpart and froze.

The BLU Scout stared back at him with brow furrowed in confusion. Slowly, jerkily, he looked down to the growing purple blob spreading across his chest. When he opened his mouth to speak, bubbles of blood came tricking out instead of words. He staggered towards the RED Scout, heaving.

The RED caught him as fell, shielding him from another volley of gunfire. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, man! Easy, hang on, I'll get the doc!"

His finger flew to his ear to hit emptiness. His heart stopped, and too late Scout remembered that he had forgotten his earpiece in his bedroom, so intent was he on getting into the action. "No, no, no, no…hang on, man, hang on!" He tightened his grip on the wheezing BLU Scout and began glancing around wildly for aid. All he saw was the charred form the BLU Scout had dragged out of the their base, and it was certainly no position to help. He looked back across the bridge with throat constricted. Never before had the RED base seemed so far away. "MEDIC!"

…

With a small click the doors to Engineer's workshop opened and shut. The workshop was dark and silent, machines and artillery still and unmoving. A sentry swept back and forth in one corner, but it did so lazily, beeping in an almost sleepy fashion.

Engineer himself was sound asleep at his workbench, a line of drool dribbling down onto his blueprints. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes and as the base around him shuddered he just snored on. Death itself could not have stirred him from his slumber.

Something toppled over and crashed. Engineer bolted upright, wincing at the crick in his neck. "What're y'all doin—"

A gloved hand clamped over his own and a needle slid quickly into his neck. "Shh," Giancarlo whispered as the Engineer slumped back against him, "silenzio, per favore."

The cyborg grunted as the Texan's dead weight collapsed back into his arms. He clenched his teeth, sharp pain trickling down the left side of his arm. His robotic hand tightened its grip on the unresponsive Engineer and he dragged him out of the workshop, muttering curses under his breath all the while. Once back out into the hallway he managed to heft him up into his arms, carrying the stout Engineer as easily as one would a sack of potatoes. His red eye scanned the immediate area, searching for signs of life.

He found one.

The Pyro stood at the end of the hallway, clutching its ax in its hands. Giancarlo could hear the thing's wretched breathing from here. The creature lifted its ax into the air, bellowing a muffled challenge.

Giancarlo just tilted his head and smirked. "Hey batter, batter," he sang, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing something spherical, "hey batter, better," he tossed it underhand towards Pyro.

It landed with a clank and rolled to a stop, allowing Pyro a good, long look at the bomb's ticker. Pyro took a step backwards. It looked from the bomb to Engineer once before fleeing.

Giancarlo grinned. "Swing."

…

"HUDDAH HUDDAH!"

"Py, didn't I tell you to go get Engie?!" Sniper swatted the firebug away as he clambered up into the Mundymobile. Pyro had come bursting out of the RED base and was shouting nonsense into his ear, waving its arms wildly and jumping up and down.

Sniper stared at Pyro, baffled. "Ya know full well I don't know a thing yer sayin'."

"BFFP! BFFP! PFFT THF NGH BFFP—"

BOOM.

…

"Docteur, do you recall that ambulance you stole?"

"Borrowed," Medic corrected. He lifted his syringe gun and fired a needle into the eye of an encroaching Demobot. As the blinded robot staggered to and fro, Medic glanced at Spy. "Borrowed without permission, but with every intention of giving it back. Vhy?"

Spy fired a bullet into the Scoutbot charging them. "Is it still operational?"

"Ja."

"Good. Go get it."

Medic nearly dropped his Medigun in shock. "In case you have not noticed, Herr Spy, I am a little preoccupied! SOLDIER! GET BACK HERE!" He fired his humming Medigun at a badly-bleeding but widely-grinning Soldier. The instant he was fully healed Medic sniffed. "Now you can go."

The Soldier grinned and blasted back into the fray with a howl of all-American bloodlust.

Medic spun back to stare at Spy with eyebrows arched. "You see? Preoccupied."

"We're going to be a little less preoccupied and a little more dead if we don't get out of 'ere!" Spy snarled. He ducked as a rocket whistled overhead and straightened in order to glare at Medic. "We 'ave to go now!"

"Aye." Demoman appeared beside them, hoisting his stickybomb launcher into his shoulder. "Lads, we gotta get outta here 'fore they blow us all to hell!" He ducked a smattering of bullets and straightened, looking around at the others expectantly.

In front of them Heavy's machine gun came to a whirring stop. Heavy looked down at Spy and nodded. "I am in agreement with Spy and Demoman. There are too many, doctor, and I do not have supplies enough to last." He nodded towards his rapidly-emptying bandoleer as proof and then looked around once more. "Where is toymaker? We are needing dispenser!"

Sudden silence fell. Gunshots and cries alike died and even the rain hushed, the storm reduced to white noise. It wasn't calming silence. It was the silence of a collected breath, the silence of taunt tension and anticipation, the silence before all hell broke loose. Spy found himself holding his breath.

The rocks around them clattered and the RED base trembled, the very earth beneath groaning. Over the pattering of rain a clicking noise echoed. It sounded once, twice, and then again and again and again, the noise rolling over them in a wave. A robot appeared at the end of the bridge, another from a vantage point high above the BLU base. Robots poured from the shell of the BLU base, spilling out of shattered windows and charred doors, emerging from holes in the walls and onto the rooftops. They were silent, save for the creaking of their artificial limbs and the click of loaded guns. They stood as a rumbling gray wall, their dead eyes fixed on the RED base.

"Ah," Medic said, his voice very faint. From his lab-coat pocket he produced a set of jangling keys. "Team, it's time to go."

Spy shoved him aside and not a split-second later the air around them exploded. Bullets pinged and ricocheted off the walls of the RED base, blasting it to smithereens. Spy scrambled up in the mud, slipped, and shouted: "DUSTBOWL!"

Medic nodded and shoved his glasses up his nose, scrambling towards the garage and dodging heavy fire all the while. "HEAVY!"

Heavy swung around, grabbed the screaming Soldier just as the American ran past, and clonked him around on the head. The mercifully silent Soldier sank forward into Heavy's arms, unconscious, and the trio disappeared around the corner to the garage.

"GO! TAKE CARE OF THEM!" Spy bellowed when he saw Demoman hesitating, looking between the garage and Spy. The Scot nodded and followed, blasting one last stickybomb towards the bridge as a parting gesture.

Spy allowed himself a sigh of relief. Half the team was safe, at least. But where was Scout? He had seen the young chatterbox barreling over the bridge—

He didn't have time to think to it through, for at that particular moment Teufort exploded.

The blast took Spy off his feet, tumbling head-over-heels back into the mud. His revolver slipped from his grip as he smashed back into the ground. He hit his head, hard, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. For an instant he lay stunned and gasping, struggling to make sense of this new development. He rolled over onto his back and sat up. His heart burst in his chest. "No!"

The RED base was engulfed in flames, smoke and heat mixing macabrely with the pounding rain and roaring thunder. Spy's eyes roved over the burning structure in horror. Their home—their livelihood—up in smoke.

Lightning flashed and a robot materialized out of thin air in front of Spy. It stood as a slim dark blot against the eye-searing red of the explosion. In one creaking hand it clutched a gleaming butterfly knife. It advanced on the stricken Spy, who fell backwards into the mud as he crawled towards his fallen revolver. The Spybot stood over him, weapon raised. It creaked and rattled, and to Spy's horror it spat his own words back at him: "I'm coming for you—"

The squeal of well-trodden tires cut off the Spybot and a split-second later the Mundymobile had rammed into the Spybot with full force and intent, smashing it against the hood and rolling over it with a satisfying crunch.

Sniper rolled down the window to grin at the dumbstruck Spy. He leaned out of the window slightly, oblivious to the bullets pinging off the side of the Mundymobile. "Someone call a cab?"

Spy finally found his breath and collapsed back in relief. His heart was pounding double, ostensibly to make up for lost time, and it took another moment before Spy was ready to get to his feet. He did so, brushing mud off his suit and retrieving his revolver. He looked to the Mundymobile, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. "I can't believe I'm relieved to see this damn vehicle."

Sniper's grin grew wider. He backed up over the robot again, just to be sure. "Bienvenue, spook."

Spy eyed the sparking robot under the van's tire. His likeness had been twisted and cracked by the heavy tread and he found himself frowning as Sniper revved the van. "You're taking far too much enjoyment in that."

"A little," Sniper agreed good-naturedly.

Behind them the RED base roared, structures and floors crashing, all their little worldly possessions going up in flames. Sniper and Spy both looked at it, pale, before Sniper spun back to Spy. "We gotta go."

"FRENCHIE!"

Spy was halfway to into the van when Scout's scream stopped him. Spy whipped around to see Scout struggling towards him, clutching at his limp BLU counterpart as if he were a lifeline. A trail of blood marked their path across the battlefield and the RED Scout was panting from exhaustion. "FRENCHIE, HELP, PLEASE!"

Spy was beside him in an instant, scooping the limp BLU Scout into his arms and making a beeline for the Mundymobile. He eased the badly-bleeding Scout onto the Murphy bed and turned back around to see no RED Scout behind him. Heart in his throat, he darted back out of the van. "Scout—SCOUT! NO!"

For Scout had disappeared back into the flames. Spy froze in place, unconscious of the bullets firing in the air around him. His heart stopped once more, all the breath in his lungs dissipated. Deaf to Sniper's shouts, he took a step forward, back towards the danger. "SCOUT! SCOUT!"

A dark blur appeared among the bright orange background. Scout stumbled back to the van, cradling a badly-burned body in his arms, and Spy went dizzy with relief. He had no time to question why on earth Scout had thought it necessary to grab a corpse. The robots were beginning to advance across the bridge, mindless of the damage Soldier had done to it.

Spy bit back a gasp as a bullet grazed his arm. He fired at the attacking Heavybot, covering Scout as the youth clambered into the van, dragging the corpse along with him. Spy emptied his chamber against the robot advance, but little good it did. A few staggered and fell, quickly crushed underfoot by their fellows, and it did nothing to slow them down. Spy gnashed his teeth and climbed backwards into the van, closing the door firmly behind him. "DRIVE!"

Sniper didn't need telling twice. With an unpleasant lurch and squeal of mud-ridden tires the Mundymobile shot off into the night and out of the Teufort base. The pounding of rain overtook the roar of the fire and finally Spy found himself breathing normally. He staggered over to Sniper, each bump and hitch the van hit threatening to take him off his feet. "Dustbowl."

Sniper nodded, never taking his eyes off the makeshift road ahead. Through the darkness he could just spot the flashing red lights of Medic's borrowed ambulance. "Phil," he said softly, "wot the ruddy hell jus' happened?"

Spy hesitated and then shook his head. "I don't know."

Now that the present danger had passed, now that his instincts were no longer humming, panic and fear collected at the edges of his mind. They slithered in silent, dangerous, and threatening to overtake him if he dwelt on them too long. The BLUs dead, the RED base destroyed, and robots were running amok in the New Mexico Badlands. Robots who just so happened to resemble them. Why? How? His stomach clenched as possibility after possibility raced through his mind, each worse than the last.

"Spy…Spy, c'mere!"

Scout's call jolted Spy out of his dark thoughts and he finally took stock of the other occupants in the van.

Pyro was curled up in a corner, moaning and clutching at its mask. Spy watched the firebug for a moment in concern before his eyes flicked to the pale BLU Scout. His blue uniform was damp and sticky with blood, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he took slow, labored breathes. Each breath came out in a small "huuuh" of pain, blood crusted around the corners of his mouth.

The RED Scout knelt in front of him, pressing a hand to the bullet wound in an attempt to staunch the blood. The boy was oblivious to his own gash across the forehead. "He got hit in the chest, Spy, but I think he'll be okay if we get him to doc, right? Right, Spy? He'll be okay, right? Right?"

Spy stared down at the BLU Scout, suddenly lightheaded. Anything and everything he could have said died in his throat. The boy stared back at up at him without really seeing him. A fine tremor ran the length of the BLU Scout's body. Spy heard himself talking, but his own voice sounded distant and faraway, like a murmur down a dark tunnel:

"'e was hit in the lung, Scout. 'e is drowning in his own blood."

"No. No," Scout repeated firmly. "No, not possible. You're wrong. You're not a doc. You don't know for certain." He scowled and turned away, muttering curses under his breath. The BLU Scout had nothing to say, just murmured soft words no one could make out.

Spy looked away, suddenly sick, and his gaze fell to the corpse Scout had deemed necessary to retrieve. Just whose body it had been was anyone's guess—it could have been any of the BLUs. The man's features had been melted away by flames, his skin cracked and blackened, flesh peeled away to reveal raw, bloody muscles underneath. It was a grisly sight to look at, and the sickly-sweet smell of charred flesh was rapidly filling the van.

Spy was about to ask Scout just what he was thinking when the corpse took a sharp rattling breath.

The Mundymobile careened to a screeching halt as Spy shouted, jumping backwards into Scout. Sniper whipped around in the driver's seat, aviators slipping down his nose as he followed Spy's gaze. "Holy dooley…"

The BLU Spy gave another rattling breath. His head flopped towards the stricken RED Spy, eyes burning with intent. What remained of his lips moved but no sound escaped.

Spy dropped to his knees, trembling from head-to-toe. He reached out to grasp the BLU Spy's shoulder, but his fingers curled back at the last second. "Louis…"

This was just a nightmare. This is all a nightmare, and he was going to wake up hung-over and aching, because this was nothing more than an alcohol-induced dream. Spy stared down at his former friend with eyes burning, waiting for a jerk back into reality.

It didn't come. Instead Louis' hand drifted towards him. He lifted his head slightly and then dropped it, exhausted by the effort. Nevertheless he kept his eyes on the RED. He opened his mouth again and this time words followed: "Zéro…huit…quatre…quatre…"

Spy tilted his head to the side, not comprehending. Zero-Eight-Four-Four? A date, a code, a message? What was Louis trying to tell him?

The dying Louis glared up at his counterpart, silently imploring him to understand. "Zéro! Huit! Quatre! Quatre!"

Spy stared at him. The lump in his throat burned, making it difficult to talk. "Zéro," he repeated slowly, enunciating each number carefully, "Huit. Quatre. Quatre."

Louis licked his charred lips. His eyes were steady on the RED.

"Zéro, huit, quatre, quatre," Spy repeated again. He didn't understand, not fully, but a man didn't waste his dying breath on a bunch of numbers unless those numbers meant something. He repeated them a third time for Louis' benefit.

The feverish look faded from Louis' eyes. He rested his head back and swallowed hard, the exposed and bloody muscles in his neck quivering in time to the movement. He paced his breath, once, twice, three times, and then he was gone.

Spy's stomach flipped. He was no stranger to death, to violent deaths at that, but it had been a very long time indeed since death had made its permanent presence known. He knew, without knowing how he knew, that there would be no Respawn to catch them now. Gently, carefully, he slid Louis' eyelids shut. "Au revoir et bonne chance, mon vieil ami."

Head suddenly heavy, he looked up to meet Sniper's concerned gaze. "Drive," he said hoarsely, "we cannot afford to stop."

Sniper, knowing that now was not the time or the place for long goodbyes, nodded and spun back to the wheel.

Spy got to his feet as the Mundymobile started up again. Dimly, he was aware that Pyro's labored breathing had eased. He glanced over his shoulder to see that the firebug had gone still. It was looking at the BLU Scout, masked eyes dead and empty.

Spy forced himself to look at the BLU Scout. A part of his mind was screaming, writhing, begging him to wake up from this monstrous nightmare. The rest of his mind had simply gone numb.

With trembling, bloodied fingers the BLU Scout removed his dog tags from around his neck. He stretched out to Spy, metal clinking slightly, the sound hidden by the pounding rain and grumble of the van's engine. The look in his eyes was pleading, but fading rapidly.

Gingerly, Spy took the dog tags. He studied them for a moment before sliding them over his own head, tucking them down beneath his shirt. The metal seemed to burn against his bare flesh. He eased forward, taking the BLU Scout's hand in his own. This time he kept his eyes steady on the Scout's. Blue bore into blue, desperate and unyielding. "I will take care of 'er, petit," Spy murmured, "I swear it."

The BLU Scout nodded. His trembling eased as he laid back on the Murphy bed. He closed his eyes and didn't open them again.

"He's…he's gonna Respawn, right, Frenchie? He's gonna Respawn, right? They always Respawn, we always Respawn! He's gotta Respawn! Come on, dammit, Respawn!" The RED Scout grabbed his counterpart by the collar and lifted him, shaking him roughly. "RESPAWN, YA SON OF A BITCH! COME ON, WHAT ARE YA WAITIN' FOR?! RESPAWN! RESPAWN! RE—SPAWN—"

A gloved hand lay across his own. Spy shook his head, expression unreadable as the panting Scout pleaded with him silently. "Let 'im go."

Scout relinquished his grip on the BLU Scout. The BLU slumped backwards, limp as a ragdoll, and didn't move again. Scout stood over him, breathing hard and fast. His quivering hands came up to grasp at his temple. "This isn't happenin'," he said, "this isn't happenin'. It's not. It can't be."

Spy stared down at the dead BLUs, Pyro continued to rock back-and-forth on the floor, and Sniper kept his gaze locked on the road ahead.

Van and ambulance barreled off into the night, the smoldering ruin of Teufort in their wake.

…

"Should we follow them?"

Bianca glanced at Giancarlo from the driver's seat. Their sleek black car was hidden in the night, quite contrary to the vehicles of the escaping REDs. In the distance Teufort crackled and snapped in death throes.

Giancarlo clenched his teeth, robotic eye zooming in and out on the escaping camper van. Part of him wanted very much to follow the REDs, but Gray's promises rang in his ears, keeping his temper in check. He would have his revenge in due time.

"No." He glanced over his shoulder, eying the trussed and hooded man in the backseat without pity. "We have what we came for."

I think this is the fastest body count I've ever accumulated. Goodbye, status quo!