Meanwhile, at roughly the same time as the assault on the hill was going on, across the desolated ruins of the once majestic metropolis, amongst a string of partially demolished warehouses, we find Valentine rummaging through the wreckage, seemingly looking for something. "Come on," he muttered, "where is it?" Overturning a chunk of particleboard and finding nothing, he let loose a snarl as he turned around and kicked a random piece of debris out of frustration. "Come on!" He screamed, his voice echoing off the walls, "Where the fuck is it!" His fit of anger was momentarily halted at the seemingly innocuous sound of ruble pattering against the ground. However, Valentine hadn't made it this far behind enemy lines by being stupid, and he wasn't about to disregard a potential threat. Slowly drawing his Widowmaker, and cautiously crawling to the nearest defensible cover, he waited. He didn't have to wait for very long.
What met his sight nearly knocked the wind out of poor Valentine; there, stalking through the smoke filled, dust laden parking lot, was a brony spawned demoknight; a string of severed heads in various states of decay festooned around the hilt of its Eyelander - and it was undoubted looking for him. 'Shit,' he thought with a wince, 'This is bad – why couldn't it have been a scout or a spy; something that isn't a pain in my ass?' While undoubtedly aware that its prey was near at hand, the abomination was obviously ill at ease as it cautiously perused the area. 'So,' the intrepid Engineer thought to himself, 'He's alone; this makes things a lot easier.' But even so, this wouldn't be a walk in the park, as the gold dueling badge proudly displayed on the wretched creature's chest gave testament to; this was no Free2Play noob, and he undoubtedly knew how to fight.
Surreptitiously glancing around the area, Valentine quickly began to formulate a plan of action; he had to act assertively, and without error, or this could wind up backfiring on him. Picking up a shard of concrete with his gunslinger prosthetic, he quickly extrapolated the trajectory and, with a hefty toss, chucked it at a stack of tin roofing five meters behind and to the right of the horse-hugger. Just as he hoped, the saddle-sucking fagtard jumped in surprise before turning around and charging towards where it thought its quarry lay. Quickly taking his chance, Valentine leaped from cover, and made a mad dash towards the more intact portion of the warehousing district. The shout of fury the brony let loose was indication enough that his escape had not gone unnoticed, and it was pennies to pounds that he was now being hotly pursued.
Quickly finding the spot he was looking for, Valentine hastily opened his blueprint module and laid down a mini-sentry as he turned the corner and rounded back down a side venue in the hopes of flanking his would-be murderer. The trilling chirp of the motion tracker registering was met with a startled yelp as the rhythmic calliope of large caliber rounds hitting home began to sing forth; it was most satisfying. However, the smirk that graced his lips soon began to fall as he realized that the turret was still firing. It disappeared altogether when his status monitor informed him that the little sentry gun was taking damage. Gritting his teeth, he put as much power into his legs as he could, rounded another corner, and came face to face with his adversary, who was just finishing off the bullet throwing construct, a half dozen gaping holes riddled its body, seeping a bright, rainbow colored liquid that he could only assume was the brony's corrupted lifeblood.
Catching the Engineer in the corner of his eye, the pony-loving manchild let loose a battle cry and charged headlong towards its target. Valentine had only enough time to get two shots off before the Targe bowled him over, knocking the Widowmaker out of his reach! He had enough sense to roll out of the way in time to avoid the claymore that came down where his head had been just seconds prior, and as he rose up, he had to throw himself at the ground once more to avoid the sweeping stroke that was aimed at his neck. Thoroughly frustrated by its prey's seeming reluctance to die quickly, the putrescent pony-fucker bellowed, "Hold still and die, you intolerant hate-fag!" Then with all of its might it brought its sword down upon our hardhat wearing hero!
The hydraulic prosthetic that managed to stop the down stroke came as an unpleasant surprise to the brony bastard. It was further distraught to find that its cold steel blade had thoroughly lodged itself into the inner workings of the Gunslinger, and could not be withdrawn. As if to compound its misfortune, the Engineer simply tugged the sword straight from its owner's hands, effectively nullifying any future threat. Letting loose a morbid chuckle, Valentine slowly rose to his feet and began to stalk towards the foul foal-licker; the tables had just been turned. Casually removing the sword from his now damaged Gunslinger, Val methodically drew a Southern Hospitality from his side satchel as he continued to loom towards his target. With every step forward he took, it took a step back. Sadly, the brony failed to realize that there was no escape until he backed into a brick wall. The look of horrified shock that graced its face was matched by Valentine's smug grin of satisfaction as he planted the hobnailed pommel of his wrench into the ponyfag's gut via a vicious under hook.
Stooping over from the force of the attack, the doomed wretch coughed up a smattering of blood before shakily looking up into the impassive face of its doom. Valentine casually remarked, "Love and tolerate this." before bringing the blunt end of his wrench down with all that was within him upon his victims skull, severing it messily from its lower jaw into a gruesome mixture of brain, bone, and viscera, its tongue and jaw spasming as bouts of viscous, mufti-hued ichor spumed forth from its gaping neck. Kicking the corpse over, and sliding down to the ground, using the wall for support, Valentine didn't even try to wipe the copious amount of inhuman blood from his person; he didn't bother extricating himself form the growing pool of gore that he was sitting in, either. He could only stare at the body of his enemy as he wondered aloud, "What the hell were you even doing out here anyways?"
The only noise that seemed to answer him was the sickening gurgle of oxygen and blood bubbling forth from the headless corpse. While not exactly helpful, Val was already coming to his own conclusion as he slowly leaned forward and began searching the body – rummaging through pouches and pockets until he noticed the silver chain hanging from its neck, partially obscured by a splash of quickly darkening tie-dye blood. Forcing the bile back down his throat, he shakily reached forward, trepidation full and apparent, as he quickly grasped the chain and gave a tug, revealing a Pipboy. But this wasn't just any Pipboy; this was his Pipboy, and the very object he had been frantically searching for. Realizing how incredibly implausible such a coincidence actually was, he muttered, "You have got to be kidding me." Quickly looking towards the sky, as if expecting some divine being to be looking over him, he perished the notion and haltingly staggered to his feet as he headed back towards his objective.
Fifteen minutes later, he was back where he started, sifting through the rubble and debris as he searched for something he'd been working on – something that nobody, not even P.L.E.X knew about – something he'd had tucked away for a day such as this, something that he hoped would help tip the balance in an increasingly dire looking battle for the future of the server he so dearly loved. The hollow twang of rock on metal brought his attention to a pile of concrete and plaster not two meters in front of him; this was it! Frantically pushing the rubble away he was met with a familiar, cobalt colored access hatch. With a few keystrokes of his Pipboy, the locking mechanism that held it shut gave way and, with a vacuous hiss, the hatch lifted as a series of automated low-watt bulbs activated, casting a dim glow that revealed a winding set of sheet metal steps descending into the darkness.
As he walked down the steps, more and more lights activated, and upon taking a final step the entire cavernous complex seemed to hum to life as dozens upon dozens of industrial grade halogen rods activated, releasing a dull, throbbing drone. Other noises began to emerge, as dynamos began spinning, conveyers started turning, and pistons began jumping. And there, three floors down, in the assembly bay stood his pride and joy; quite possibly the only hope of salvation to the server! It was enough to bring a single tear to his eye – such was its beauty. But, no, there was no time to get emotional; he had a job to do! So with a resolute nod, he headed towards an access lift located to his left, punched in the correct command sequence in his PipBoy, and began to ascend to the control center. He had a server to save!