The team's nerves rolled as the fire escape collapsed onto the writhing mass of robots in the street. They screamed, metallic voices warbling with a tinny tone. Most of the Scout robots were crushed instantly by the collapsing fire escape. A few Pyro bots struggled to unhook themselves from the heavy metal, but slowed as red and black fluids flowed from their bodies. Small pops of fire licked flames onto the building. All it left were black streaks.
The Heavy clung onto the door frame as his guts twisted. He growled as he pulled his bulk into the apartment where the meager remnants of his team hid. The Demoman and Engineer snatched him by the belt. As soon as he'd gotten the majority of his bulk inside, they let him go. The Sniper stepped to his side, rifled pointed down at the remaining robots. The force of his rounds exploded in their heads. When the Demoman was certain the Heavy was safe, he joined the lanky Australian. It didn't take long before their pursuers were reduced into scrap metal and pulp.
Flopping onto his back, the Heavy panted with great effort. "Next time, I find elevator."
Miss Pauling knelt next to the Heavy. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Da. Need to rest, though," the Heavy nodded. He stood up, then walked towards the Engineer's dispenser. The Texan was quick to join him.
Giving a low sigh, the Engineer began repairing his buildings, his wrench echoing in the hollow night. "Suppose there ain't no reason to keep quiet now."
"Everythin' in earshot's gonna be up our bums in no time flat." The Sniper knocked his hat back, then fussed with his hairline. "We're gonna need ta get down, 'n fast."
Miss Pauling took a glance around the complex. There wasn't much left to this small room. Most of the remaining furniture was damaged beyond use. If appliances were left, they were rusted and spotted with black mold. She glanced down the hall. There was a bedroom just past what used to be a kitchen. A beaten mattress was left on the floor. That would have to do. She grabbed at its edge, then began tugging it towards the front room.
"Let me help ya with that." The Demoman grasped the left-hand side of the mat. "Where we takin' this?"
"You tell me. What's the lowest fall we'll have to take?" Miss Pauling asked.
The Demoman nodded his head towards a door out of the apartment. The duo dragged the bedding out of the front door. The Sniper lifted his head, wondering what the two of them were up to. He gave the exhausted Engineer and Heavy two pats, then joined them. The trio picked the mat up, then walked towards a wrecked stairwell. Cheap materials were scattered everywhere, blown to kingdom come by the Demoman's tricky work against the previous wave of robots.
"Okay. Toss it," Miss Pauling commanded.
The three of them threw the old mattress down the stairwell. It landed a few floors down, smashing debris flat beneath it. Miss Pauling paced around what little railing remained of the stairwell. She could see the collapsed front door. Scorch marks surrounded the materials that lay there. If the Demoman had destroyed it once before, then it was likely that he could blow another hole in it. All they had to do was make it safely downstairs.
"Gentlemen, see if you can find more mats." She turned to face the Demoman. "Mister DeGroot, I'm counting on you to get us out of here."
The Demoman gave her a cheeky grin and a salute. "Aye! Leave it to me."
As her two assistants ran off to find more mattresses, Miss Pauling went to check on the rest of her men. She found both of them huddled next to the Engineer's dispenser. The Texan was sitting with his legs folded, listening quietly to the Heavy's story. The Russian's face was long with sorrow. She didn't have to hear the whole tale to know that the Heavy was telling the Engineer about the lost Medic. She kept quiet as they continued conversing, checking to see if the water was still on in the kitchen. The assistant was a strong woman, but her endurance wasn't nearly that of the men she was watching. A drink of water would have restored some of her resolve. Of course, it was shut off.
"Got some bottled tea, if yer lookin' for a drink," the Engineer said.
Miss Pauling sighed, then left the sink alone. She sat between the healing men. The Engineer tossed her a glass bottle. She recognized the wrapping. Several of the destroyed vending machines around this location had an old advertisement for it plastered on them. Her men must have raided one. She checked for an expiration date, but didn't find any. Throwing caution to the wind, she cracked the bottle open and drank its bitter contents.
"Are you two doing okay?" Miss Pauling asked. She wiped the top of her bottle off with the inside of her jacket. "Here. You two should—"
The Heavy shook his head. "Nyet. Drink it. Already had one."
"Finished off a Coke, myself," the Engineer grinned. "At least, I think it was a Coke. Could have been carbonated tea, for all I know."
Miss Pauling shrugged, then took another drink. "Thank you. I'm sorry for interrupting."
"Is fine. I was telling Engineer about Doctor. Needs to know what happened, I think," the Heavy replied.
"Sorry ta hear about him, too." The Engineer gave a low sigh. "Coulda used his help. Not ta mention what those lowlifes would do with a man 'a science like him."
Miss Pauling smirked. "Give the man some credit, Mister Conagher. He's not one to take his captivity lying down."
The Heavy agreed with her. "Medic is stubborn man. He will cause much, much trouble."
Chuckling, the Engineer asked, "Ransom of Red Chief, hmm?"
"Something like that," Miss Pauling replied.
There was a knock on the doorframe. The trio glanced up to see the Sniper's head peeking around the corner. He gave a low sigh, then a smile. "We're plum outta mattresses. Think we'll have ta wing it."
Miss Pauling waved for her men to follow. The Engineer grabbed a hunk of scrap metal from his dispenser as he got up. Everyone reconvened on the Demoman's location. He was standing with arms akimbo at the top of a broken stairwell. He'd knocked the railing aside, allowing for a clear fall down to the first floor. The pile of mattresses wasn't reassuring or comforting. Most of the mats were moth-eaten and flat from decades of use. It would be a rough landing.
The Engineer was quick to whip up a plan. "Tell y'all what." He tossed his tool box down onto the floor. It popped open, revealing a spinning set of prongs atop a flat base. As the machine whirled to life, the Engineer continued speaking. "Let me get this nice 'n fixed up, 'n I'll take the leap. Once I get ta the first floor, I'll toss down an exit. Sound fair?"
"That's a long fall, mate," the Sniper frowned. "Don't hurt yerself. Yer the closest thing we've got to a doc 'round here. Not ta mention what those bastards would do with a man loike you."
The Engineer patted the Sniper on the shoulder. "I'll be fit as a fiddle. No worries, right?"
The Heavy stepped in. "Maybe I can lower you little bit. Less way to fall."
"If ya can hold the both of us, I think I could help ya, too. Little more distance, anyway," the Demoman offered.
"Sounds like a plan. Be back in a jiffy." The Engineer scurried off to collect more scrap metal. Both he and his teammates ran back and forth, hauling what they could to speed up the Engineer's work. It wasn't long before the spinning teleporter had grown.
Miss Pauling was impressed with the team's speed and vigor. Despite having their numbers cut in half, they were eager to fight as always. That confidence was wonderful. Maybe it was foolish, but it made her work easier. She would have to document it in her report.
As soon as he was prepared, the Engineer tossed his tool kit down to the first floor. It landed with a soft whoosh towards the edge of the mattresses. It was a shame that the little kit didn't prop open remotely, or it would have saved her men some time. The Demoman wrapped two arms around the Engineer. The Heavy followed suit. Slowly, the three men draped themselves over the edge of the railing.
When the Heavy lowered the two men as far as they could go, he began counting. "Tri. Dva. Adeen!"
The Scotsman didn't need to know the Heavy's meaning to know when to let go. As he released the Texan, everyone's stomach knotted up. Time slowed, the emptiness of the building suddenly full of rushing wind. The Sniper winced, body tensed in case something awful happened. Even Miss Pauling closed her eyes. There was a soft thump as the Engineer landed.
It wasn't long before the teleporter on the top floor glowed and spun to life.
The Engineer gave a cheeky call upstairs. "Let's get movin', ladies! I'm itchin' fer a fight, and y'all didn't find any pillows."
/***/
Miss Pauling did enjoy her subordinates. They were a quirky bunch of men, quick to come up with unique plans and to strategize to best fit any situation. Having the Pyro, the Scout, and the Spy out of the mix was hobbling them, but they worked around it as best as they could. They had weaponry cleaned and filled before she was done getting out of her pajamas. Their efficiency was to be admired.
Their knack for barging into rooms, however, was a problem.
She had just finished zipping her jeans when the Demoman and the Sniper slammed into her bedroom. Both men were embroiled in some sort of debate, weapons thrown over their shoulders. All three squawked as they made eye contact. Miss Pauling hadn't finished dressing quite yet. Both men spun on their heels, quick to hide their embarrassment. Miss Pauling turned about as well. She fidgeted with the last of her blouse buttons before speaking to them. "Alright. I'm decent."
"Sorry 'bout that," the Demoman apologized.
The Sniper nodded in agreement with the Scotsman. "Just wasn't thinkin'."
"It's fine. No harm, no foul." Miss Pauling grabbed for a brush in her suitcase. She continued grooming herself. "Now, what is it that you two were willing to violate my privacy to discuss?"
The Sniper scrunched up his face. "Blimey. When ya put it like that—"
The Demoman shook his head, then got down to business. He tossed a box of items onto Miss Pauling's bed. "Me mate 'n I came ta talk to ya 'bout getting' armed."
Miss Pauling patted her thigh, stroking the back of her revolver. "Gentlemen, I know how to dress myself."
Both men's faced flushed with embarrassment. The Demoman was the first to recover. "That's all good and well, Lassie, but we need help. We're down three lads." He opened his hands into a pleading gesture. "I know it's not our right ta ask, but if there's anythin' ya can take…"
Miss Pauling cocked her head. She studied the weapons her men had offered her. Most were pilfered from the Scout and Spy's collection. It was probably for the best—she didn't have the training, physical strength, or mad temperament to use the Pyro's flamethrowers. She rummaged through them, looking for what would suit her. One of the items was a silver watch. The Spy's standard cloaking device. She picked the timepiece up, then strapped it to her wrist. It didn't fit like a glove, but it would do.
"Probably should pack a knoife, then," the Sniper suggested.
The Demoman frowned. "Ya can't be wishin' fer her ta sneak around like that back-pokin' snake does, are ya? Those bloody robots would rip her ta shreds!"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Miss Pauling muttered.
"Ya know I don't mean it like that, Miss Paulin'." The Demoman sighed, then placed a hand against his right temple. "We can't risk losin' ya. It'd tear me up if those Tian Lu bastards got a hold 'a ya."
The Sniper paled at the thought. He opened his mouth to retract his statement. Miss Pauling raised one finger, and the Australian fell silent. She grabbed the first knife she could find in the box. A peculiar balisong found its way into her possession. There was a rose stamped on its handles. She undid its latch, flipping the handles open. The knife's blade was serrated, a rose's winding path laced up its face. This must have been a new acquisition. She'd never seen the Spy work with a weapon quite like this.
"Think ya can handle it?" the Sniper asked, breaking the silence Miss Pauling had placed on him.
She nodded, then folded the blade shut and locked it. "Just don't ask me to do fancy tricks with it."
The Demoman grinned, then crossed his arms. "Looks perfect in yer hands. Better than any of me old swords, anyway."
The Sniper scratched his chin. "Can't say I'd want that in my spine."
"Good. I'll start with this, then." Miss Pauling placed the knife alongside her gun. She snatched her jacket off the edge of her bed. "If you boys think I need anything else, then pack it. We're going to war, after all. Might as well bring as much as you can."
"Now that's what I like ta hear!" the Demoman cheered.
Miss Pauling ushered the men out of her room. They split in their own ways, ready to grab as much as they could. She searched through her suitcase, grabbing a few last items. Her clipboard was loaded with a fresh pad of paper, as well as a pencil and the maps that her boys had whipped together. She fished her wallet out of her purse. She made sure her passport and remaining personal effects were hidden and locked away. Satisfied, she went to check on the troops.
The Heavy and the Demoman had spear-headed loading up the two vans in the attached garage. The Medic and the Sniper were loading up what they could. She wondered how either van was going to have room for passengers. The Heavy's large arsenal, the Medic's healing gels and supplemental aids, every grenade launcher that the Demoman had packed, the Engineer's toolkits, the Sniper's uncouth stacks of ammunition, rifles, and machine guns—all these items had been crammed into every nook and cranny in both vehicles. If there was anything her men knew how to do, it was how to pack an army.
A metal fingertip tapped Miss Pauling on the shoulder. She jumped, then sighed. "You scared me, Mister Conagher."
"Sorry. I'll have ta use the other hand next time." The Engineer nodded his head towards the living room. "Got another situation on our hands."
Miss Pauling lowered her eyebrows. "What now?"
The Texan led her back to the computer terminal. He offered her the chair. She sat down. The seat was warm, having absorbed the Engineer's body heat. She narrowed her eyes, adjusting her glasses. He had discovered another strange file. Somehow, he'd gotten read access on this one. She stumbled through the code. While she could operate a machine like this, getting into programming was a bit beyond her.
"What am I looking at? Assembly code?" Miss Pauling asked.
"No. But, it is some kinda script." The Engineer poked at the screen. "See this? Our little file here's talkin' to somethin', and it ain't another computer."
Miss Pauling's eyes widened. "What is it talking to, then? Our satellites?"
The Engineer shook his head. "No. If I'm readin' this right, then this code's sendin' some kinda signal to some major operatin' assistance machines. Phone lines."
"What?" Miss Pauling gasped.
"Ain't the last of it, neither." The Engineer stole the mouse for the computer, then continued scrolling through the file. "This here? Talkin' to nodes fer television. Over here? It's using some kinda radio tower to transmit a noise. God knows what kinda noise, but that's what it supposed ta do."
Miss Pauling frowned, then rubbed her head. She hopped out of the seat, then worked her way towards the kitchen. The stocky Texan followed her. She picked up the phone, listening quietly for a dial tone. There was an empty sound in her head, her pulse echoing in the hollow plastic. The phone line was dead.
"Damn," Miss Pauling hissed.
There was a static scream in her ear. She yelped, jumping away from the phone and tossing its receiver aside. The Engineer reached out, instinctively catching her as she leapt away. Chinese shrieks and crackling noise rattled from the machine. As soon as she got over the shock of the noise, Miss Pauling picked up the phone and slammed it back on its cradle.
"We've got to try and get a hold of Helen. This kind of breach can't stand," Miss Pauling muttered. "Do you think a payphone would work?"
The Engineer frowned. "Right now? I wouldn't trust two soup cans and a string."
"Well, we've got to try something." Miss Pauling paced out of the kitchen. "Let's get moving. We'll hit up the nearest payphone, and I'll tell Helen—"
Miss Pauling's skin prickled. There were people standing outside of their complex. They had been so still that she had hardly noticed them. They stood with blank expressions, eyes glowing in the night. Each of them were lithely built. They all shared the same face. Their jaws were slack, bodies leaned forward and prepared to dash forward. These shadows stared at her, eyes widening slowly and unnaturally with anticipation.
She grabbed the Engineer's arm and yanked him towards the garage as a dozen Scouts poured through the front window.
/***/
Author's Note:
I got a chapter up! It's been a while. I'm such a slacker.
I'm sorry when I am slow.