Chapter Eight
. . .
It was a strange thing, the silence that followed a rocket being launched. The Soldier figured it was just the anticipation drowning out the surrounding, potentially distracting noises momentarily as he braced himself for that sweet, inevitable explosion. When it came, all that surrounding noise came rushing back and his adrenaline surged. He could feel his eardrums vibrating from the roar.
"Kah-BOOM!" The Demoman appraised his friends handiwork as the rocket fired right into the hubotic Heavy's chest, evoking a screeching ring from the metal beneath his flesh.
"Now, Demo!" the Scot complied, sending a grenade hurtling towards the Hu-Heavy as he slowly made his way towards them, hid dead eyes somewhat sad. He looked so human, albeit monstrously huge. The only sign he wasn't human was the sparks now spurting from his clicking shoulders. Soldier sent a second rocket that finally got the former BLU to his knees.
"G'night, mate." The Sniper tipped his hat politely before sending a bullet through the Heavy's head – right between the eyes. The Heavy falling to the ground shook the floor, like a mini-earthquake. A second rifle fired and this time it wasn't a hubot that was hit.
"Oh cripe, Sol! Snipers doon!" Demoman ran for cover from the hubotic Sniper who was concealed on a platform overhead. Soldier threw his Australian comrade over his shoulder and dashed to a corner he prayed was a blind spot to the former BLU that was hunting them.
"Piss off!" Sniper swore at his own leg as if it had been in the way of his old rival's bullet on purpose. "Medic!" The German made to run to him but Heavy pulled him back as the Hu-Sniper nearly took him out. Wherever the BLU was perched, he had them all trapped like flies in a web.
"Ve have to do somezing."
"Da," agreed Heavy. "We must stay here." Inside, Medic knew he was right. Unless...
. . .
Scout followed the sound of weeping to a steel door that had no handle, just a lumbering hulk of crude metal. Mechanically operated of course, which meant he wasn't sneaking in. When in doubt, Scout concluded, drop all subtlety.
"Hey! Hey, who's in there?!" it took mere seconds for a sentry to blast the door down. Scout scrambled away as smoke and debris flew past him and light from inside the room poured into the hall. The weeping had stopped but clumpy boots began to stalk towards him, an ominous silhouette appearing through the dust cloud.
"Well, would'ya lookit that?" The BLU Engineer stared down at him with his pistol in hand, an eerily emotionless smile on his face. He had scaring on his bald head similar to that the BLU Spy had, but aside from that he looked human. He wasn't though, not anymore, Scout knew. Not wasting time with mockery though he loathed to skip that part, Scout brought his bat up and struck the Engineer right across the face. His goggled head snapped round 180 degrees with a sickening snap before slowly turning all the way round to normal, like a demonic owl.
"Son," Scout began to back away. "Ya'll gunna regret that." A plank of wood struck the back of the Engineer but snapped in half like polystyrene. Behind him, Scout saw an older woman cowering with the half plank clutched in both trembling hands. Engies wife.
The younger man discarded his bat and pulled out his pistol, using Arleen's distraction to shoot Engineer in the face not once, but twice. He fell to the floor in a convulsing heap and Arleen found herself unable to look. God that thing resembled her husband. Her Roy.
"Oh-oh God." She began to sob again and fell to her knees, still holding the plank.
"Hey, s'alright, I'mma get you outta here." Scout walked to her and gave her a cheeky, reassuring smile.
"No you don't understand," she choked "M-my husband…"
"Engie? Short Texan guy?"
"They-they … he killed him..." She broke off into fresh weeping and the Scouts smile faded. He fell uncharacteristically silent for a moment. "Oh God, my Roy."
"Vhat a touching moment." Scout turned to see Medic at the door. The BLU Medic. The hubotic Medic. "Two new toys to play vith." Talk about keeping those things in character. Scout stood before Arleen protectively, bringing up his pistol. A trait that he'd carried on since he was a boy, was to convert his grief into anger. Scout leered at the medic with an expression that would terrify a human.
"Not today, pal." Rather than shoot him, Scout lifted the barrel of his gun and shot the shelf above the door, which held several large computer screens. They crashed down on top of the Hu-Medic, crushing him beneath their sheer weight. Arleen had stopped crying, instead she crouched with a face so expressionless, she could have passed for a robot herself then.
Scout turned to her with a gentleness that so rarely touched his features. "Where … did it happen?"
. . .
The Spy finished bandaging up his forearm as the hubotic Spy lay at his feet, finally at rest. He'd heard several explosions from various location around the base during their fight and tried not to assume the worst. Patched up, he began to resume his course down the long, dark hallway. When he finally came to a large room, he spotted a figure on the floor. It was the Engineer. "Labourer?" He rushed to the man's side and knelt by him "Can you hear me?" There was a low mutter. "Wake up, damn you!" Spy found himself shaking the pale Texan, panic finally arising as he saw just how much blood had pooled beneath him. His right arm was no more than a bloody stump.
"… Spah?"
"Yes."
"Ma … ma wife … they-" he stopped to cough harshly. "You gotta save ma wife…" Most people in this situation would protest. Their subjective, overly-emotional minds would argue that he could be saved. That there was still hope, even if there wasn't. The Spy knew, all too well, that when a man had to choose between himself and his wife, there was only one acceptable option.
"Where did they take 'er?" Barely conscious, the Engineer lifted his remaining arm and pointed weakly in the direction he saw his wife being dragged off in.
"Hurry …" his arm fell limply to the floor.
. . .
Sniper had torn off his sleeve and used it to constrict the blood seeping out of his leg, but his hubotic counterpart had put a complete halt to any progress on the teams part. Medic had rushed back outside to his van earlier as Heavy, Soldier and Demoman all frowned up at the shadow-cloaked upper level, hoping to catch a glimpse of their hunter. Sniper stared at his team as they all stood around, hopeless. Damnit truckie … ye better be alive.
Outside, Medic ripped open the back of his van and clamoured inside, he had an idea but for the life of him had no clue if it would actually work. But then, wasn't that the mantra of any good man of science? With his medi-gun in one hand, he placed the other on top of the lid of the freezer he kept in his van. Inside the building, Medic could hear Demo and Soldier shouting abuse at the hu-Sniper. He thought then of the BLU Spy for some reason, of how he mentioned watching his team being tortured and turned into those ... things. Medic decided then that'd he'd like to collect the hubotic bodies of the BLUs if his team were successful here, oh the research he could conduct with them - it was truly fascinating. He looked down at the freezer with a dreamy smile.
This was their last shot.
. . .
Calvert held the nanoids in his hand like a kid who'd just found his favourite lost toy. Before him on the screens his Sniper was keeping the majority of those morons at bay, though the damn American boy had taken out his hu-Engineer and rescued his captive. He'd spotted the Spy earlier too, but he'd disappeared from view now. Probably cloaked. No matter, this room was impregnable from the outside to those without the correct fingerprints, once his hubots took out his pest problem he could finally complete them and make the perfect weapon. After all these years.
"Bonjour." Calvert spun around to stare at the former RED Spy, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Impossible!" He glared at the masked man's smarmy expression. From behind his back, Spy produced his counterparts severed hand and waved his at him, blood spraying about at the motion.
"Not with the right finger prints it isn't," he cocked the limp appendage "I shall trade you." He motioned to the gunslinger settled gently on the counter behind Calvin who was red with anger, and growing redder.
"When will you people learn that it's hopeless? You have lost!"
"While there is still one of us standing," Spy began to walk forward "there is still a chance." He smiled coldly. "But I'm not here because of what you did to the labourer." The smile faded, but his blue eyes bored into Calvin's with the predatory sharpness of an alligator.
"No?"
"No." Spy stopped, bringing out his knife. "I'm here for what you did to my son."
. . .
Fear not, I know this chapter was short, but chapter nine comes this weekend.
