A/N: My dear reviewers, your butts are like two scoops of caramel ice cream, and I love you.

That being said, I'm not particularly pleased with this chapter... this is why I don't write action.

The blood rushed through the Sniper's sleeve in a long, crimson squirt. He shrieked as he grabbed his wounded arm, and he felt the ever-familiar hot, sticky sensation that filled the palm of his hand. Pure whiteness shot over his eyes as his teeth grinded in pain, and he could only imagine the rival Sniper's smug grin as he returned to his camping point, once the RED was out of range. A few shots were heard, some coming from the shotgun of his companion, some from the weapons held by their enemies. The Texan took the briefcase away from the sharpshooter's wounded hand, and immediately became the prime target. All eyes were pointed at him. All weapons, too.

"Destroy them, darlings!" Cooed the Queen in her saccharine voice; "Take back what is yours, and what I gave you! Protect the Queendom! Protect me!"

The Engineer heard her voice, syrupy and sticky. It clung onto him, a painful reminder that she was the one causing all this trouble. She was the one that prevented them from escaping. She did not even care about wasting her Herd's ammunition and energy to attack two miserable men. A shower of lead fell over them, but the two managed to evade most. Even wounded. Even carrying a heavy briefcase.

A strong, pulsating mantra played in their minds. The only thing that kept them running, shooting, killing.

Their Scout dropped dead, the silly puppyish thing. He fired his gun at them as he climbed the wooden buildings, stopping only for a second to reload it. One second was all it took. The mercenary rose up his weapon and shot him in the hip. It was not a precise hit. If they had battled in different circumstances, that shot would have been useless. But the malnourished, exhausted, overall-clad boy toppled over, shrieking in pain. He fell off the construction and-

CRACK!

His neck snapped like a twig.

The men all looked at the Scout's stiff, breathless body for a moment. The two ran behind a building, out of their sight. There they sat, panting and clutching the briefcase. The Queen was becoming livid.

"Get them! Get them! Get them, my darlings! Never mind the fallen calf, the Herd is still strong!"

The RED Sniper listened to her voice that sounded like the hiss of burning oil. He mentally commanded her to shut up, his chest still rising and falling at a rapid pace. The mantra still played in his mind, like a broken record. It was a chant that was woven into the hearts and minds of many men destined to protect their tribe, to overcome nature's boundaries, and to make sure the young ones live long enough to carry on their clan name. The voice was brooding in their minds.

Do it for her.

Just do it, no matter what it is!

The Engineer knew they were approaching. The ground shook as they stormed towards them. A quick, almost unnoticeable gesture; he reached out his gloved finger. The Sniper saw the gesture, stood up and ran.

After all those years of fighting together, the two men did manage to find a way to communicate. One errant twitch was more than enough for them to knew if somebody was injured, helpless, dying, or in this case, in need of a distraction. The man ran away from the crowd, foaming at the mouth and bleeding through his shirt. Blood was pulsating in his ears; his head was throbbing like the skin of a thousand battle drums. The Infected were nothing. The Infected were bugs. These were able, hardened men, hungry and desperate to appease their Queen. And she glared at the Australian who disappeared behind the wooden buildings, and screamed at her blinded Herd a mere moment before they caught up with him.

"Forget him! Get the Texan! Get the briefcase!"

And what sheep they were! The Heavy had just enough large caliber bullets to finish off the pathetic freak that dared enter their Queendom. The Russian was so close that he could smell his blood, sweet and coppery. The scent hung in the air like bait. But he still turned; he still lunged forward and ran to the other side. The others followed. Guns were fired, heavy bottles crashed against the buildings until they revealed the sharp ends splashed with old, tasteless liquor. The group searched far and wide before they finally came to an understanding.

They had no idea where the Texan was.

The battered Medic was half dragged, half carried by the heavy Russian. His feet seemed to glide across the dusty ground like feathers upon ice. It was odd. He was not beaten. He was not tortured into saying all five commandments. He was being… helped. He couldn't hear the havoc outside. The past few months did a number on his senses, his hearing above all. His voice was hoarse, and he did not even bring himself to ask where he was being taken. His lips parted, a sound came out, but this time his voice was not interrupted by a yell or a smack.

"Heavy…" he took a deep breath, his head lulling to the side; "…Ukraine."

His lanky, starving body was hung up in the air. The German even winced, expecting an impact. The Heavy might toss him on the ground; he might kick his teeth out. But instead, the bear-like mercenary slowly lowered him down. The Medic curled up, bringing his knees towards his chin. He shielded his eyes from the blinding white light outside. The rays of steely sunlight danced inside his eyelids.

He felt something cold and metal inside his hand. Bringing himself to open one of his eyes, he noticed something. It was a gun, a fully-loaded gun that he was in no position to use, and above all, a gun much too small for his Russian friend to ever use.

As if he had noticed the look of concern in the Medic's puffy, purplish eye, the Heavy kneeled before him.

"You are in no condition to defend yourself, I know. Use this as desperate measure. Shoot anybody. Anybody who may endanger you. I will come back for you. I may bring your healing gun with me, if I am able to. But please, doctor… stay alive."

Not knowing why the Heavy was suddenly behaving this way, but having absolutely no energy to find out, he only nodded. He hid further behind the old empty barrels, clutching the weapon. He felt its inlays. It reminded him of a Spy's weapon. He shook away the thought and leaned his head against the wooden containers, slowly basking in the howls and screams coming from the Queendom's residents. He felt a strong hand move over a wristwatch that clutched his hand. He did not recall having it there before. But he hadn't had the strength or the voice to ask about it.

Meanwhile, the Heavy had other concerns.

The Dead Ringer prepared for this IT was timing out. It was only a matter of time before-

"Alert! Alert! Trouble in the IT sector! Oh my, oh my! Danger! Danger, darlings!"

- she noticed.

The BLU Sniper was turned around, grabbed by the shoulder. He opened his eyes in shock and soon saw a kukri's tip lunging towards him. His sniper rifle fell in his left hand; he used the right to push the attacker's hand away. He noticed his unfair advantage; both of his arms were fully functional. His rival's left arm hung limply, the right was folded towards him and wielding his fatal blade. His own rifle was strapped to his back. The BLU could only focus on dodging the weapon as long as he possibly could, feeling the quickening in his rival's blood as his ungloved, bony fingers grazed the surface of the RED's wrist.

A fiery rage burned within the wounded Sniper's steely eyes.

It shifted once he was thrown on the ground. The BLU quickly reached into his inventory to grab his own melee weapon. He barely touched the blade when the RED stood, leaning on the palms of his hands. He rose up and gave the BLU a gash across his bristly face. The BLU wiped his bleeding cheek after allowing himself one quick yell of pain. Smelling his own blood, and the blood seeping down the arm of his attacker, his primal instincts went into full throttle. His hand stretched out and slashed across the air.

Whisk!

It sounded like a baseball being thrown at rapid speed. The RED stepped back; the point missed his abdomen by the threads of his shirt. The BLU growled, desperately wanting to return him tenfold for that gash he gave him, and now bled across his cheek.

Another slash; that one did break the skin.

The RED grabbed his stomach briefly before he was pinned against the wooden wall. A knife was pressed at his Adam's apple. The light that came rushing in through the cracks of the wooden walls blinded him. Even with his head turned back, even with the blotches of white, the man could still imagine the BLU's grimace, vile and victorious. A twitch away from dominating his rival, it had to be.

"Well," the BLU clucked his tongue, glaring at the RED with a look of almost perverse satisfaction; "Looks like yer done here…"

"In your dreams," the man replied, trying to rise up his weapon before the other responded by pressing the side of the bloodied knife against the soft skin under the man's chin. The RED gulped. As he did, the saliva-filled flesh came even closer to the blade, and he even felt the cold sensation, as if somebody was dragging a stretched-out strand of hair across his neck.

"Ya know…" the BLU Sniper began in a hollow tone; "You could stop all this. The Queen might be willing to negotiate. You have yer friend bring the briefcase back, and join our little Herd, and-!"

He winced as hot spit flew into his eye. The movement was more because of shock than anything else. The RED wanted him to turn, to expose his weak spot. Sadly, he decided not to give him the satisfaction. He blinked the foamy liquid away and narrowed his eyes at the RED, who's eyes had yet to break contact and were positively burning with determination. The BLU smirked- no, chuckled at the rival.

"You shouldn't have done that, ya know? It wasn't polite, was it? Why are you resisting, mate?" He came closer to him, the knife still hanging under the man's chin. His gloved hand was gripping the REDs arm firmly, not allowing it a single twitch.

The RED was practically an inch away from death. Maybe even less. Their foreheads touched. The BLU was practically panting like a dog.

"Drop. Dead," the RED snarled through his gritted teeth. The BLU failed to do so… at first.

"You REDs just can't get enough of us, can ya?" He grinned. "Nah, you gotta come rushin' back and takin' our belongings. Well not this time. I have my duties, my obligations that I need to fulfill, and no one…" he looked at the RED for a moment, the rage materialized into thick, choky air in between them. "…no one… will get in my fucking way. Not you, not the grease monkey, nobody. And frankly, my pet, I'd like to see you try…"

The side of the sharp blade was pressing down the Sniper's Adam's apple. The BLU licked his lips in anticipation. The RED did nothing. He did not squirm, nor did he call help. He did not even budge when the force made it difficult for him to breathe normally. His eyes still stood still on the man's grimace. If he was to greet death, he would do it like a hero, repent for his sins under the hand of a man of equal strength and redeem himself.

The atmosphere in that moment in time cracked.

"Alert! Alert! Trouble in the IT sector! Oh my, oh my! Danger! Danger, darlings!"

The BLU twitched and the RED took that moment to his advantage. His knee made impact with the BLU's stomach. He saw his weapon fall from his hands. At that moment he lunged forward, completely forgetting that he had a weapon of his own, held in his now freed hand. He grabbed the BLU and pushed him towards the wall with such power that the entire construction shook. The BLU broke the wooden wall and fell out of it. As the air was let in, the smell of gunpowder and frag grenades immediately burned the RED's nostrils. He leaned out of the gap in the wall just enough to see the BLU dangling, hanging for his life and clutching a wooden board with one hand.

The BLU tossed and squirmed as the battle raged under him, the battle of the desperate BLUs and a gritty RED. Their gallops and shrieks sounded like a stampede. The BLU Sniper was mortified. His breathing was fast and hard, and he was sweating through his uniform. The RED watched his attacker. Pathetic. Simply pathetic. He rose up his knife while a smile crept like a caterpillar over his unshaved, badly bruised face, covered with splinters and tiny cuts.

He whispered.

"Long live the Queen."

The bloodied knife made impact with the BLU's hand; it went through it like it would through a stick of butter. The BLU yelled as the knife was extracted, and lost grip of the board. The RED watched him fall to his death.

Out of the frying pan…

Fwick…fwick…foosh!

…and into the God damn barbecue.

Ever seen a forest fire? It's worse when you're the tree.

And for the BLU Pyro, the tree was supposed to be a pathetic little Identified Trespasser. She scowled as she flung her flame thrower, burning down everything she thought was necessary. Even the uninhabited houses. Even her own Queendom. Even the dwelling where the RED stood, watching the havoc outside. The Sniper felt smoke rise. Dense, thick smoke.

He began coughing like his lungs were full of lead. He ran out of the room and downstairs.

A board broke from the ceiling and fell right by his feet. If he was an inch closer…

Jack's laugh echoed in the distance. So did the Queen's cries of displeasure. They rung inside the Sniper's mind, forming a cluster of fear, pain and crackling fire. It engulfed the room into a large fireball, hot and heavy. The Sniper stormed out, turning and pushing aside every table, chair, everything that stood in his way. A small, leathery thing fell in his grip. He did not recognize it in a blinding fury of red and orange, but he grabbed it as he ran across the room. His footsteps did not echo, and the fumes and kerosene inhaled made him think that he was floating. He heard voices.

"I said you smell like breakfast! I couldn't figure it out before, but now I did!"

"A damn good one. My nana taught me."

"Darlings, darlings!"

"BURN THEM! BURN THEM!"

"Does it get easier…?"

"Emily would never do that… but I did."

"You smiled… sugar."

He flung the rectangular object through the walls and they immediately crumbled behind him. He ran breathless, tears running down his eyes as smoke pinched them. His hand was grabbed. He was being dragged away. The only thing that kept him from attacking was the flash of red fabric.

The Engineer held onto the briefcase like it was the sole thing that could ever guide them out of this hellhole. In a way, it was. His heart was beating when they approached the van. Gunshots were fired at it.

Do it for her.

Just do it, whatever it takes!

The Engineer hopped inside the vehicle, putting the briefcase aside and fastening his seatbelt. The doors closed loudly and in unison. Trying to keep his breath steady, the Engineer turned to the marksman, pressing down the gas pedal.

"Hope you had fun while they chased me…"

"Shut up and brace yourself!"

The tires screeched loudly, sparks practically flew from behind the tepid wheels that were spinning and becoming hot as iron, ready to be struck. Both men fell deep into their seats as the vehicle gained some speed. They swiveled and swerved across the dusty plain, bombs and grenades were fired at them.

The BLU Demoman shot one awfully close to them. The blast went off in a gush of smoke and red, the van leaned to the side before landing on all four wheels again. The Texan was practically shot out of the van, through the top.

"Can't this damn thing go any faster?!"

"Oh, you wanna drive?!" The Sniper responded before recoiling and facing the dusty road again. It was quite difficult to drive with one hand. He really didn't need a busybody in the passenger's seat. More grenades. Second, third… a sharp turn to the right. That one almost hit a building.

"You trying to get us killed?!"

"Believe me, if I was trying, this would not be the-!"

The two fell silent once they heard a slam across the metal of the van. It was blunt. It was not of a bullet's burst or a grenade fragment. The Sniper's ears perked up.

"Did-…didja hear something?"

"I guess you heard it, too…" The Engineer replied, looking into the distance with glassy eyes. Another hit. They were still driving, but the smacks were coming closer. And if they had bothered to look behind them, they would have seen an unmistakable blade of an axe. It rose up and struck the top of the vehicle. They heard a noise, but saw nothing.

Nothing until Jack climbed down and yelled at the two from the side of the van, holding onto the rearview mirror. Her eyes were red like blood, her teeth were sharp as razors, and the possibility of this insane Pyro possessing their souls was highly debatable, but not at all impossible. They screamed. Jack ran her claw-like fingers into Sniper's neck. He began choking; the vehicle swiveled sharply and uncontrollably.

"Nobody leaves the Queendom!" She shrieked in her now high-pitched voice, holding onto the edge of the van. "Nobody!"

The vigor and spirit was draining from the Sniper's eyes. He gasped.

"Engie!"

In a rush of anger, the Texan took the rusty wrench in his hand and struck Jack on the head with it. It seemed to shake her concentration, but not her grip. She hissed in pain.

"Get offa him you miscreation!"

"Engie!" The Sniper repeated, steering the wheel to the side and desperately trying to shake the freak off. The Texan leaned to the side and was thrown to the centre once the van regained its balance.

"What?!"

"Take the wheel!"

"Take the-?!"

"DID I STUTTER, TAKE THE FUCKING WHEEL!"

The Texan leaned to the side and gripped the helm firmly. The Sniper freed his arms and used it to pry the Pyro off his frame. She was still livid, still foaming at the mouth. Dust flew in through the window.

"Nobody leaves us!"

The Sniper reached and grabbed the large rectangular container. He maneuvered it over the Engineer's body and looked at the Pyro, who was now clutching his shirt.

"Here's to all yer -ungh- freaks in hell!" He grunted before he hit her over the head with it. She hissed and lost her grip of the vehicle. She tumbled down… and so did the briefcase.

"No!" The Engineer yelled out, preparing to steer back. The Sniper pushed his face away and grabbed the control just as he watched the Pyro slowly rising up from the dirt she was thrown in, shaking her fist at them unable to chase after the two runaways. The briefcase was lying beside her, dented. It was becoming smaller and smaller by each rushed mile. Jack's axe stayed on the surface before it began rattling and fell off the van.

The Engineer watched it fall and disappear behind them, suddenly turning to the Sniper.

"You… idiot! You idiot! What the fuck did you do?!"

"Calm down!" He commanded, looking at the road ahead. The Engineer refused to be silenced.

"Calm down?! No! Don't you fucking tell me to calm down! You lost it! I had it, right here, in my arms, and then you lost it!"

"Don't - !"

"Don't what?! Don't what?! That was the only medicine available for the next… thousand miles, a-a-and then you came in here and threw it away! I hope you're proud of yourself, you useless sack of crap! And now Sarah is there, waiting for me to come home, and I'll have to say 'Oh, sorry baby, Daddy couldn't help because uncle Snipes is a fucking moron who can't even fight a single Pyro!',and she'll just sit there and hate me!"

"It wasn't - !"

"I - I - I can't even begin to comprehend this!" He said, flinging up his arms in frustration. "We had it. And now we don't! And it's all your fault you pedophile! You freak! What, fucking over one of my daughters wasn't enough for ya?!"

"It was a fake!" The Sniper said, trying to create some much needed silence. The Engineer watched him, first with a bewildered expression, then with a look of skepticism.

"A… a what?" He asked, and as he responded, the Sniper went into his reserved yet irritated gear. He spoke quickly, but did not raise his tone.

"A fake, mate! Ya know what a fake is? A replica, a mock, an imitation, a bloody fake, for fuck's sake!"

He sighed and felt his body sink into the chair. His neck was throbbing. He closed the window. Slowly, the Engineer looked at the back of the van. There it was; the briefcase. The blue container striped with a strip of white, a small plate filled with buttons and lock combinations. His jaw dropped.

"But… but how?"

"I threw a briefcase, some old thing I found while you were holding that one," he explained, ticking his head towards it. "I bet it's a standard suitcase that just matched the color. Maybe it'll fool 'em, but I'm not sure. I just needed something blunt to knock a few things down… or out."

The tinkerer watched the man in complete silence. Slowly, the Sniper exhaled through his mouth.

"Look. I gave you a promise. I wouldn't let anything happen to yer daughter. I may be a freak, but I'm a man of my word."

The Texan's eyes shifted slowly towards the deserted field they were driving across. He contemplated a couple of things with bated breath as the Sniper eagerly awaited his response.

"Mate… I know this is hard for you. I know that nothing I do can ever remedy what I've done, but for all it's worth…"

"She'll be okay," the Engineer said in a hollow tone, just a speck of hope in his voice. He looked up towards the white sky just when his voice cracked, and his eye emitted a tear that streamed down his jaw.

"My baby's gonna be okay."

He remained in that position for a while. The marksman watched and couldn't help but to form a smile, even though his arm had went numb and every bone in his body ached. He looked ahead.

Was that the sun peering in the distance? It was too early to tell.

The fire was beginning to settle as the BLUs counted their losses. One building burnt to the grown. The REDs fled. A briefcase was missing, and so was the Medic. Even the Pyro was somewhere, outside of the Queendom, but she would return quite soon. The Queen watched the men from the centre of town, from the largest flat screen behind the statue of her. The statue, made out of scrap metal and weapons that were taken apart, was smiling at them. The Queen, made out of color, sound and pixels, was not. She spoke to her Herd.

"I am very, very disappointed at you, darlings. Not only did you let them escape, but you lost the Scout and the Sniper in the process. Poor dear… oh, well," she continued in a suddenly perky tone, being a dilly dolly she was; "Today wasn't a complete loss. I have managed to locate the man who released our IT. And I have to say, I am very disappointed at him…"

The group chattered amongst themselves, trying to identify the criminal. Such a deed mustn't go unpunished, they knew this. They knew it well. They wondered who would be the one to end the pathetic creature's life.

Dominic glared at the screen. The Queen spoke the man's name in a formal tone, like she was telling him that he was awaiting company.

"Heavy."

The group turned to the obese Russian, who looked at the screen in puzzlement. He had not done the deed, but the Queen said that he did. The Queen was always right, and there were no witnesses to prove her otherwise. Therefore, the Queen must have been correct. And who was he to defy her?

Slowly, he approached the screen. The Queen smiled sweetly.

"Punishment where punishment is due."

Dominic rushed towards her, pushing through the barricade formed by the Soldier and Engineer. He huffed and yelped at her image, trying to cause a distraction.

"Le système est vicié!"

"Why, thank you, Delacroix," she responded. She loved being praised for her greatness, even in a language that she was not acquainted with. Still, she wondered what exactly his praise was concerning. But no time for that, oh no, no, no. It was time for the public execution!

Being a good Herd member, one needed to know how to punish himself. The Medic was not a good Herd member, so somebody else was there to cut him. His face looked so much brighter without those pesky cheeks. The Russian walked over to the statue and picked the sharpest chunk of metal.

"Careful now, let's not make the structure fall apart!" The Queen said, fearing that her statue would be ruined if she kept on this tradition of letting the man finish themselves off with chunks of her cold, scavenged flesh. The Heavy watched the blade, only slightly rusted. If he put up a fight, he would be killed by somebody else. This was for the best.

A hiss of blood squirted from the man's neck as he struck the small, sunken area. It went in beautifully; only halfway in, and the man was already losing consciousness, waddling from side to side. His crimson blood fell on the ground, his footprints made deep imprints. The Queen placed her hand on her chest and chuckled. The Survivors did the same.

The Heavy moved from side to side, managing to break his skin a couple of inches more. His hand was becoming soaked; the liquid covered it almost completely. He breathed heavily, but he had to finish off his own execution, as a valued member of the Herd should. No screaming, no crying, no resisiting. He fell on his knees and the earth shook as his mass struck it. With his last ounce of strength, he twisted the makeshift blade deeper inside his wound.

He fell face first into the ground. Still alive, still breathing, but at that point, nobody cared.

"A wonderful display."

The Survivors clapped.

A growl came from behind the group as the Pyro came in the small Hooverville. She was covered with grime and soot, her axe was being dragged behind her and leaving small abrasions in the ground. The Queen nodded at her.

"Jackie, you came! Ah, don't worry, I will not punish you for leaving the grounds, but I might if you keep sporting that grumpy old face," she giggled.

But the Pyro did not care about the Queen (!), she did not care about the crowd's furious looks (!), she only cared about speaking to the Spy once more (?).

"You… you did this."

The crowd fell silent and took a step back; allowing Dominic to give an explanation that was due. Even the Queen was silent, awaiting his words that came slowly. Each one of them was void, emotionless.

"A long time ago, Jack, I made a promise. I made a promise to a friend that I would never let a child die in vain. And I did not. I refuse to stand idly by and let other Survivors die, just because they aren't in our pitiful home."

"You sabotaged us." Jack raised her axe. "You ruined the Queendom!"

"The Queendom was already ruined!" The Spy bellowed, spitting rage. "What are we? A group of angry, starving men who follow a glitch, a flawed computer program! She is nothing but a pretty picture!"

"How dare you?! The Queen is glorious! The Queen is great!"

"The Queen is a lie!" He barked at her, and the statement was carried through the hot air. Even the Queen coyly pressed her fingers against her lips, and the other Survivors watched with a look of horror. Still, the proud Frenchman continued;

"We couldn't take on two REDs! Two! It's embarrassing, that's what it is! With Helen, we had guidance; with Helen we had a chance! Friends, colleagues, degenerates, open your eyes and see the failure that you've become!" He yelled out, pointing at his companions.

Jack's scream became a cluster of emotions, it filled the base and it made the entire dystrophic town shake. She rushed towards him, her axe high up, ready to wail on his head. She made her way towards him, blood thumping in her head. He did not move an inch.

A gunshot.

The Pyro fell flat on her face; scarlet blood flew from the side of her head. The Queen watched the body with her lovely lips parted. She then saw an unusual sight; the IT materializing out of thin air. He held out a familiar weapon; the small snub-nosed revolver that went by the name of the Enforcer, whilst they were in the Team Fortress circle. Nobody had ever seen a Medic use it. The man stood, his arm out, breathing heavily. There was no mercy in his eyes.

"Oh…my…"

Suddenly the Medic's eyes rolled back and he fell on the ground, clutching his wounded, beaten body. His breaths became rapid and forced, but he did not seem to receive any precious oxygen. His cheeks were becoming a rather unpleasant shade of purple. Dominic watched this poor man, unbelievably angry at the Queen and her Herd for dismantling this man's Medi Gun just so that they could use it to create her Majesty's statue. The Spy watched the man with a heavy heart, though he showed no concern.

It was just… this is what she looked like. Struggling to live, beaten by life, held only by a speck of hope. Ukraine in his case, a small child in her.

Dominic rushed to him. He almost made it to the Pyro's bleeding body when he was stopped by the Engineer's shotgun.

"You ain't goin' nowhere, you filthy traitor!"

"If I don't tend to him, he might die!"

"If you take another step," the Engineer warned through a growl; "he will die."

The Soldier and the Demoman stepped behind the Engineer, blocking the Spy's view of the panting, wheezing Medic. Slowly, the Spy reached his hand into his jacket, noticing that their gaze was locked on his hand.

"If it is so easy to kill him, why did we even bother keeping him alive?"

He took out his hand, but instead of a gun, the man held out a small, golden ring. Ignoring the confused looks he was receiving, he kneeled by the deceased Pyro. He took the ring up, showing it to the heavens, showing it to the Queen, showing it to all the dead.

"A token of a saint, so that your soul will not rot and fester in the fiery pits of hell!" He proclaimed loudly, placing the ring inside the hollow of Jack's mouth. He lowered his head down and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Something tells me you would enjoy the fire, Jack. I can't let that happen."

He took out the silver lighter the woman confiscated from him. He flicked it on and approached the statue of the Queen.

"Delacroix? Delacroix, darling? Wh-what are you doing, darling? P-put down that lighter. Dominic! Put it down! You aren't well, darling! It's alright! All you need is a bit of reeducation, that's all! Nothing a beating wouldn't fix… Dominic! D-darlings, stop him!"

But the sheep of hers were too stunned by the sight of defying orders. The metal structure did not burn, the Queen could not be destroyed. But the base… the poorly-built, wooden base burnt nicely. The Queendom shall not stand. With a flick of the lighter, the man set fire to the icon.

First crackle, the Queen. Second crackle, the Queendom. Third crackle, Marseilles. Fourth crackle, the child. First, Queen, second, Queendom, third, Marseilles, fourth, the child. First, the Queendom, second, the Queen. The Queen, the Herd, the Five Commandments, sheep, sheep, lambs to slaughter, Icarus and the sun. Second, fourth, fifth, Queendom, the child, the Infected. Here's a little riddle to guess if you can; who here was an Infected, and who here was the man? Virus, lies, Emily Payne, crackle, crackle, rain. Lorraine, the blade, a promise made. A sting, a ring, a foolish thing, a prayer across the summer sky, do what you want, but let me die. First, second, third, watch it burn.

Do what you want.

Just do it for her.

The structure fell to ashes.

"Darlings, do something!"

So did Dominic's sanity.

His thoughts lay in disarray. He took out his Ambassador and shot the buzzing screen. A spider web spread across the screen, the Queendom was engulfed in silence. Long live the Queen, the Queen was dead. He turned to his colleagues.

"I stood idly by during this pointless, needless battle. My gun is still loaded; firing a single shot at those two wouldn't have made a difference. And why? They still had heart. They still had heart. And soul! And hope for this wretched world that lied outside the borders of the Queendom. Yet you choose to listen to that dictator, a glitch in the system. You are powerless. You are nothing here! And what do you do to the people who try to inform you of that? You kill them. You destroy them! Well, here I am, telling you now. The Queen isn't here, on this screen. You are free to think for yourselves!"

"Shut up you frog or I swear, you'll be digging yer grave with yer teeth!" The Demoman bellowed, clutching his empty bottle of Scrumpy. The Spy wasn't shaken nor stirred by this warning.

"If you do not believe me, if you still think you are safe here, if you still think that the three of you could fight off all dangers when the nine of us could not, you have my permission to stay here and keep the IT. If there is a grain of sanity in those thick, plebeian skulls of yours, you will join me and travel to our new home; the one the IT speaks of. Fight me or join me. You have options now. Congratulations."

He folded his arms over his chest. The Medic raised his head from the surface of the ground.

"If you want to kill me…" Dominic smacked his chest once; "go ahead and kill me!"

The fight began and ended in two minutes. The dead man's blood ran through the ground and around the burning statue. The three Survivors and a shivering IT were left on their own.

All this for a briefcase filled with sugar pills.