It felt as if the team had never broken apart.
As soon as the Engineer and the Sniper stepped out of the white truck, the Demoman rushed out of cover. He scooped up both men in a wild, rough hug. The Engineer's feet came off the ground with the sudden jerk. Both men were nearly squashed by the Demoman's powerful embrace. It was less like being hugged and more like being grappled for a pin.
The Sniper managed to gasp out a plea. "Mate! Crushin'—ribs!"
The Demoman dropped both men to the ground. He gave them a wide smile. "I can't believe it! Freakin' fairy miracle, seein' you two again! Dell, man, nice hand! Looks new! And Mundy—" He stopped, catching a fresh glance at the Sniper's scar. "Bloody hell!"
"I've had a bit of a rough go, lately," the Sniper admitted.
The Engineer tipped his head, then glanced around the road. "Suppose you want ta tell me why I just plowed through a scrap yard."
Bits and pieces of robots were sticking out of the white truck's grill. More were crushed beneath the offending machines' tank. A few were collapsed around a blue sedan. There wasn't a familiar vehicle in the bunch. The eerie, shredded shells of robots did little to pacify the late arrivers. The only thing that seemed friendly on that stretch of road was the man that had almost choked them out with his affection.
"Oh! Suppose we'd better all talk." The Demoman gave a sharp whistle. "C'mon, ladies! All clear!"
The first woman hopped out of the top of the robot's transportation. She had a sniper rifle slung over her right shoulder. She crossed the barren road, then tossed the rifle into the Sniper's awaiting arms. Another petite lady hopped out of the brush along the road's ditch. She was a strange sight amongst the crew. Hardly a fighter, but a bit of a wild card, when it came to a tough situation.
The Engineer shook the hands of both women. "Miss Paulin'. M'am. Nice ta see ya both."
"Way to take control 'a that rig, Miss Paulin'." The Sniper echoed his friend's sentiments. He turned to the elder of the two women. "I can't imagine this means anythin' good if a nice mum like you is out here, fightin' ruffians."
The Scout's mother gave a slow nod. "I'm guessin' that you already know the score."
"We were comin' up to get you both," the Demoman informed the duo. "Guess you must have had the same thing happen to you as I had happen to me."
The Engineer rubbed the stubble on the back of his head. "I suppose you could say breakfast didn't sit well with me." The Sniper didn't speak his sentiments. He rubbed the side of his face, nodding in confirmation of the Demoman's assumptions. Not even the nosey mother pressed for additional information on that one's recollection. Neither man seemed battle ready, in their weary state.
Taking the team off the subject, the Sniper turned to Miss Pauling. "Then, you knew somethin' about where we were?"
"Just a second," Miss Pauling said. She returned to the front of the destroyed powder blue vehicle, then fished out a crumpled piece of paper. She opened it, then showed the Engineer and the Sniper her notes. "I found these coordinates on your team's location a few months ago, before Gray locked me out of our computers. But, until Ma showed up at my apartment, I couldn't get out of Teufort undetected. We happened to get lucky."
"Ma? Luck?" The Engineer lifted a thick eyebrow, then looked at the robots smeared across the road. "Think we'd better continue this conversation on the side of the road."
Everyone agreed. The Engineer hopped into his vehicle once more, then carefully maneuvered it onto the shoulder of the road. The remaining four waited behind his truck, then hopped into its bed when it came to a stop. The Engineer took his keys out of the vehicle, then opened the sliding window in between the truck's cabin and bed. It didn't take long for their conversation to get back on track.
"So, here's the scoop," the Scout's mother said. "I was gettin' a drink in my house when I found a secret stash that my beaux left behind. Took it to Miss P's, and we got outta Teufort. Swung by Hollywood to get the Demoman. Closest guy, quickest pick-up. Or so we thought! He acted like he completely didn't know us! Which, hey—I get why he might not remember me. But Miss P?"
The Sniper nodded, then jumped into the conversation. "You had one 'a those blasted metal balls in you, too?"
"Yeah," the Demoman replied. "Hurt like hell to get out, too. After that, I remembered the two gals and went to tell them 'bout what happened to me. We packed up 'n went to find you. Then these bloody bastards caught up to us!"
"Must have gotten too close to Mann's forces," the Engineer speculated. "Either that, or he's startin' to search for you two."
Both Miss Pauling and the Scout's mother pinched their faces. It seemed so easy to slip away from Teufort, what with the Spy's cloaks and disguise kits. If what the Engineer said was true, then they would have to move faster. Unfortunately, there was only so much they could do on four wheels. Even that was out of the picture, now with the sedan torn apart.
Riding cross-country in the bed of a pick-up did not sound safe or fun.
"This is going to get out of control," Miss Pauling grumbled. She pushed back a long, errant strand of black hair. "If there are others like you out there, then we may be too late to catch them before they come here. We might be wasting our time finding you all."
The Demoman crossed his legs. "Wasn't a waste, Miss Pauling. You two got me, after all. Maybe there are others like me out there, yet."
"She's right, though. We can't be predictin' the behavior of our comrades." The Engineer curled his mechanical fist, then tapped it against his left hand. "We need a net here to catch those that come our way. We also need lines 'a communication to tell each other who is where. Without those two things, I'm afraid one of us might walk into another trap."
The Sniper rubbed his forehead. He began planning out loud. "We'll need a number everyone can share. A private one. And guns. Loads 'a guns!"
"We'll also need to throw Gray off of our scent," Miss Pauling interjected. "If he figures out what we're doing, he'll send another fleet out to stop us. Or worse, relocate our targets. We can't hope for another narrow victory."
The Scout's mother reclined against the truck's metal edges. She was hardly a strategist for these kinds of situations. About the best she could do was stick to the shadows and shoot the crap out of anything that looked at her funny. She rolled her head back and forth, wondering what her long lost paramour would have done. He was all about staying invisible, disguising as his enemies, even faking his own death.
Maybe that was it.
"Look. We've got a smashed car, a crapton of dead robots, a tank, and a truck," the Scout's mother said. "Let's use 'em!"
The Engineer leaned forward. "Go on."
The little mother pointed towards her ruined vehicle first. "I ain't in yous guys's respawnin' machine. Leave that thing by the edge of the road? He'll think I'm toast. At least, that should take away some heat from me. That'll leave me able to go pick up the next guy that's on our list."
"Using what vehicle?" the Engineer asked.
She responded with two taps on the back of the truck. The Engineer pulled a face. If there was one thing a man didn't like, it was having his vehicle messed with. She rolled her eyes, then blew a crumpled strand of hair out of her face. "Ah, c'mon! Gray doesn't know about this baby. I take this on the road, he'll never know I took it. Not unless those robots respawn or somethin'."
Miss Pauling shrugged. "I'd think that they'd have some video feed that relays back to Mister Mann. However, we might get lucky, too. It's possible that they didn't get the license plate for this vehicle before they were taken offline."
"So, say ya take this car," the Demoman said. "What does that leave the rest of us?"
"Yo," the Scout's mother said. She flung a thumb over her shoulder, pointing it towards the massive tank.
Suddenly, the Engineer was much more enthusiastic about this plan. He looked up and down the tank with a fevered energy in his eyes. It was beautiful, hardly damaged by the firefight. Perhaps it couldn't be refilled at a gas station, but it could be useful for a little bit of distance. Or, even better, to use as a Trojan horse.
A dark smile crept across the Engineer's face. "I get it. We use that cutie, sneak back into Gray's area, then set up camp. If we can take one of our bases back, then we can use its communication lines to get a hold of you."
"That's all well and good, mate, but what in the hell base could we take that nobody will miss?" the Demoman asked.
The Sniper's spine snapped straight. The answer struck him like lightning. "Hydro."
Both the Engineer and the Demoman's eyes widened. Miss Pauling lifted an eyebrow, but started nodding slowly. The Scout's mother didn't catch on. She shrugged, then assumed it was good from the way everyone else was acting. "Great. Why?"
"Hydro was one of the original disputed properties between Redmond and Blutarch Mann," Miss Pauling explained. "It was a discontinued battleground long before I was hired. From what I've heard, the fortress had a terrible habit of becoming a quagmire during matches. Both brothers lost interest in the territory, and it was abandoned within a short amount of time."
"It's got this massive radar dish," the Engineer chipped in. "The power for the base comes from an old hydraulic plant—hence the name. We take it, and I guarantee Gray will not notice. Meanwhile, we've got the perfect place for us to set up camp. Might be a little tricky to get food, but everything else in that plant should be good to go, should we need to defend the area."
A big smile crossed the Scout's mother's face. "Sounds like we've got a plan, then! So, who's doin' what, here?"
Miss Pauling crossed her fingers and placed her hands in her lap. If there were enough weapons left on the robots, they could raid their shattered bodies for protection. It didn't seem like they were being picked by anything like RED and BLU's respawn system. Perhaps Gray's own recycling systems were limited in range. That left quite the mess on the road. Even if that was all cleaned up, and the sedan was staged to look like a wreck, they still wouldn't have a lot of time before Gray would become suspicious of the whole operation. The mercenaries could stage a strong offense and defend themselves. They had years of practice. The Scout's mother? Not so much.
"Gentleman, I'm leaving the takeover of Hydro to you," Miss Pauling stated. She turned to the Scout's mother. "You'll need an extra set of eyes to watch your back. I'll stay with you until we find everyone."
The Demoman accepted the plan. The Sniper and Engineer exchanged worried glances, but nodded in agreement. The Engineer reached out, then waved his hand. "Here. Pass me your notes, Miss Paulin'. I'll write the ol' number to the base down. Call us when you're in a safe place, alrighty?"
"Got it," Miss Pauling agreed.
The Engineer turned back to his truck's cabin. With a nervous, heavy sigh, he picked up his keys and passed them to the Scout's mother. "Be gentle with her, okay?"
She nodded. "Won't ding her. Pinky promise."
It didn't take over an hour to clean the scene up. Thankfully, no other vehicles came down the lonesome road. Robot bodies were tossed into the tank's back end in clunky heaps. The teammates and ladies stole weapons and ammunition according to their personal tastes. Baggage was thrown between the three vehicles. When that was all said and done, the team coasted the unfortunate powder blue sedan into its resting place—an overgrown ditch.
"I'm gonna miss that car," the Scout's mother sighed.
Miss Pauling nodded. "It was good."
The former woman crossed her arms. "I'm billing you for a new one."
/***/
An energetic flight back to Teufort was cut short by that most dastardly of complications—running out of gas.
It was lucky that the Medic's car managed not to die until they reached the gas station. The Heavy was not looking forward to pushing the vehicle through city traffic. Even the birds had given up on their mad dash. They roosted inside the stalled vehicle, picking each other's feathers clean as they rested. The Medic wasn't sure how they had made it that many hours without resting and going at such a ridiculous speed. Perhaps years of hanging around flesh-regenerating beams had given them some sort of mutant power.
The Medic was impatient as the Heavy filled up his vehicle. "Are you done yet?"
"Nyet!" the Heavy replied. "Need to drain another pump."
"Very funny," the Medic grumbled. He thought about the Heavy's statement, then agreed. "Actually, we should take a bathroom break. You don't want to rupture your bladder! Trust me."
"Medical experiment?" the Heavy asked, his tone less than enthused.
The Medic cackled. "Nein! The other team's Sniper! You should have seen it, Heavy. The other Medic called me over so we could get a look at it. He had these stones blocking up his urethra, ja? Dumb bastard was abusing those verboten pills, and they gave him the nastiest kidney stones I have ever seen! It was like pulling a melon out of his body!" He slowed down, then wiped a tear away from his left eye. "You never think you have to take an isopropyl alcohol shower, and then something like that ruptures in your hands!"
There was a small grunt and a click. The Heavy set the gas pump on its holder, then screwed the gas cap shut. He turned to the Medic, then gave a flat reply. "And now, where has he gone?"
The restless German tipped his head back. That was a question he'd never considered. All he had been worried about was getting back to Teufort. He'd never thought once about the enemy team's condition. Hell, he'd hardly thought of his own team's luck. It was a lot to take in all at once, even for a mad genius like him. Everything had changed. All had been uprooted.
"It is strange, isn't it?" the Medic wondered. "Everything seems to stay the same, and then poof!"
The Heavy nodded. "Is unfortunate." He opened the driver's side door, then locked it. "Come, Doctor. Take break. Get food, maybe?"
"Oh. I would like that," the Medic agreed.
He made sure to leave his window down a crack for the doves. They weren't going to be inside the gas station that long, but he didn't want to take any chances. Thankfully, there wasn't much of a line to the restrooms. After that had been taken care of, the duo stocked up on a few supplies. Granola bars, chocolate, coffee, water. A few packages of sunflower seeds for the doves. For all the food they purchased, they might as well have stopped at a grocery store.
After all items had been paid for, the duo returned outside. The Medic kept staring at the sky, a bright, wicked smile on his face. "Remember, Heavy? On nights like these? We would put on our strangest hats and scare the crap out of the other team!"
"Was good fun," the Heavy agreed. "Not so much when ghosts attacked."
The Medic agreed. "Ah, yes. That was a crazy night." He paused, then thought about how many times that had happened. "Nights." He pushed his hair back, then smiled. "It will be good just to get back to the old routine, don't you think?"
"Doctor?" the Heavy asked.
"You couldn't have forgotten about that," the Medic chuckled. "Defend the papers in the morning. Push the bombs in the afternoon. Do mad science in between. We kept a very busy schedule, you know."
The Heavy shook his head, hefting the supplies onto one arm. He put one huge hand over the Medic's skull, then turned it towards the other side of the car. "Doctor. Look."
The Medic's eyes widened. There was a strange shadow tapping on his rear passenger window. The doves were chirping, pecking at the man's finger. They were riled up about the presence of the stranger. Perhaps it was a thief! The Medic huffed, then dumped his purchases in the Heavy's arms. The last thing he needed right now was to lose his car and his birds!
He was prepared for a fight. "Schweinhund! Step away from the—"
Two large, glassy eyes turned to face the incoming duo. Such a face would have frightened anyone that wasn't used to it. Poor florescent lighting shone in warped lines across its face. Round protrusions from both sides of it looked like the mouths of insects haphazardly stitched together. A low, warped buzz emanated from its mouth. Both the Russian and the German recognized it as English.
They gave each other a confused look, then stared at the intruder. "Pyro?"
The masked human jumped up at his title. He rushed the duo. It was so strange to see the Pyro outside of a warzone. He was still in his uniform, of all things. Why did he still have that? Neither the Medic nor the Heavy had retained their own clothes. Where had he been where he could get away with such attire?
"You remember us?" the Heavy spoke.
The Pyro gave an enthusiastic bob of his head. "Brr, R rm grrd drr srr yrr!"
The Medic nodded, his translation skills a little rusty. "It is good to see you, too. Now, where did you come from? Do you live here?"
A vigorous shaking of the Pyro's head answered that. "Nrrp! Srrnt Hurr. Nrrc prrc." He pointed towards a vehicle parked at the next pump over. "R nrrd yrr hrrp."
Both the Heavy and the Medic leaned over to see what he was talking about. It was a white vehicle adorned with colored lights and gold lettering. They tensed up. A vehicle belonging to a cop, no doubt. The Heavy gave the Pyro a frustrated sigh. "Did not break any laws, did you?"
"Nrt trrdrr," the Pyro replied. "Hrrp mr. Crrm hrr."
The Pyro pulled on the Medic's hand. The German had no choice but to follow him over to the other vehicle. The Heavy grunted, then tossed their supplies into the car's trunk. There was little time to organize them, what with the Pyro pulling the Medic off course. He locked the car's trunk, then trotted to where the Pyro and Medic were now standing.
Pointing into the gas station, the Pyro began chattering again. "Thrt's drr Srrdrr."
The duo stared at the uniformed man paying for his gasoline. A man with dishwater blonde hair and a magnificent, well-groomed moustache was at the cashier's counter. It took a few seconds for the Medic and Heavy to get what the Pyro was implying. Without a helmet hanging on his head, and with such uncharacteristic facial hair, the Soldier was practically a different person.
"Where did you find him?" the Medic asked.
"Nn drr rrrd," the Pyro replied. "Hr frrgrrt mr."
The Medic put his hand on his chin. "Hmm. Perhaps he hasn't passed that device yet." A wicked grin split his calm face. "I can help him with that."
"Doctor? Do not like your tone," the Heavy grumbled.
Smiling, the Medic shushed the Heavy. "Oh, hush. I have this covered."
Even if he was at least two and a half times the Medic's weight, there was no way the Russian could have stopped the scheming German from what he was about to do.
/***/
Author's Note
Sorry for the delay. I had some other work to finish up.