The long, cold night
Hello loyal readers! I know you've been waiting here for YEARS like HachikÅ waiting for his master. Do not fret! It will be another three years to get another chapter.
To tell you the truth, this fanfiction has been done since 2015. I just love wasting everyone's time. Do not worry! The end is almost near... maybe.
Now, y'all gunna have to listen up. This is where things get a mite complicated.
Engineer inhaled. The glow from the end of his cigarette illuminated the deep cracks and crevices all over his calloused palm. Squeezing it into a fist, he stared up at the round, giant full moon with a stressed sigh, expelling a dense cloud of smoke through his nostrils. It was the nineteenth day in a row they had a full moon and it was really starting to bother him. He dared not look out at the BLU base tonight, he had a feeling the BLU Engineer felt the same way. Then Scout appeared at his elbow.
"You don't smoke." Scout told him.
"Nope."
"Can I try one?"
Engineer answered by giving the Scout a dirty look. Scout raised an eyebrow back.
"You don't look so good man."
Engineer heard the teletype in his workshop chirp in completion and turned without another word back to his shop and slamming the door behind him. Scout stood in the darkness.
"Fine, whatever you pansy-flower."He yelled at the door.
No answer, nothing. No retaliation, no banter. Just silence.
"Wut's wrong with everyone tonight?"
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shivered as wandered back towards the main entrance.
It's too damn cold
One thing he did not think, was how incredibly bored he was. Demoman was at home with his mother, Scout knew that. Medic sulking in medical. Not that he actually wants to spend personal time with him. Medic had a nasty habit sneaking robotic chips into your body cavity whenever he had the change. Sniper was hiding somewhere. As was the Spy. Maybe together. For all he knew they were somewhere fucking each other's brains out. Scout threw that image out the window and decided to look for Pyro. He liked to throw rocks at that jerk. Yet, Scout spotted Soldier's fire pit glowing in the distance, which was more bigger and brighter than it ever was. No one was ever allowed at Soldiers scared bonfire spot though, which Scout learned that out the hard way. Not wanting another shovel buried in his neck, Scout wandered towards Snipers dark, forbidding camper van.
Yes, Soldier never had guests allowed at his fire spot. Tonight however, warranted an exception.
"-I was trapped! Pinned between the Panda bear and his meal, the equally deadly RED Panda. All I had was my leather belt and my BEAR HANDS! Ohohoho! What a battle that was! Nothing compared to what I met next! I kept trudging through the jungle, being eaten alive by genially modified dragonflies from the swamp. Then at last! I met the Samurai! A warrior long thought to be extinct! But in reality, living in the dense, humid jungles of Japan! He was awaiting patiently, a warrior worth fighting for! WITH! I mean with He gave me a deep bow, which is the way they initiate combat there. I bowed in return and-"
Soldier roared! Pyro jumped and giggled, his mug of hot chocolate almost jumping out of his hands.
"AND I RAN HIM THROUGH!" Soldier motioned with his shovel, making in and out movements in the air.
"Guy wasn't bring his A-game that day. I guess that's why he was wearing that silly farmers outfit. Maybe it was his day off..." Soldier continued, sitting back down next to the masked visitor.
Pyro asked a question.
"Of course I know! I spent fifteen years in Japan during the second war! I have six thousand and sixty-eight confirmed kills! I think I know the difference between a farmer and a samurai!"
It wasn't what Pyro asked. But, he shrugged and wiggled his bottom into the dirt to get more comfortable.
"You're right Pyro. You and I are good friends."
Pyro stared at the man and stayed silent. Soldier was leaning back against the log, pinching a cigar in his mouth, inching closer. Pyro pulled his knees closer, focusing on the glowing, white ash and embers shimmering near the toes of his boots. This wasn't the first time Soldier had asked Pyro to do anything outside of work or training exercises. They both enjoyed having fires, and sitting near them. They both like fresh air and coffee. In fact, Pyro noticed Soldier asking him to much more activities than usual, including tonight. Pyro had dozens of fire pits scattered across four kilometres. But this was this one is special, this was the Soldiers pit. And no one was allowed by Soldier's fire-pit, not even Engineer. Out of all the people he picked to join him, he picked thought sent an excited chill up the Pyro's spine. The first time, in a very long time, the fire-starter could share the one thing he understood with another person. If not, it certainly was better than playing with his cats in the dark of his dank room another evening.
"Yep... good friends." Soldier echoed himself, exhaling a large, smelly cloud of smoke. They both sat in silence, watching the flames dance around the blocks of wood and detritus, creating clear fumes of heat. Soldier casually pulled an arm over Pyro shoulders, pulled him closer and sighed. Pyro instantly tensed up. He hoped Soldier wouldn't do this, not tonight. Sometimes the Soldier would only talk and tell stories. Pyro at least hoped it wouldn't go any further than that, he just had his suit shined. Yet now, the Soldier scooted closer. He was so close, Pyro could feel his breath, even through the thick rubber. Soldier nuzzled the crook of the Pyro's neck, breathing heavily like a walrus with asthma. Pyro stayed perfectly still, daring not to shutter.
"You smell sweet. Like hard candy." Soldier muttered, drawing his tongue over the rubber. Pyro allowed a shiver. Soldier's tongue slipped up the side of his head, and dragged off near the ear. To his relief, Soldier withdrew instantly but kept his arm firm over the Pyro's shoulders. Pyro was confined.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Soldier asked as if he hadn't defiled the spotless exterior of the Pyro's helmet.
Pyro didn't answer. Soldier continued.
"Those years in the war. They took a-"
Soldier stopped and thought for a second. He rolled his cigar pensively between two fingers.
"They took a- toll- on my brain. I can't remember lot of it. Most of its all jumbled and messed up. For all we know, my stories could be all bullshit!"
Soldier roared into side-splitting laughter. Pyro didn't return merriment. Suddenly, listening to Soldiers stories wasn't as fun as they were, now that he knew why the Soldier invited him here. Soldier was going to ruin what was going to be a wonderful night. Having himself locked in his room seemed much more fun now than it did before. Soldier removed his arm to wipe a tear from his left eye.
"Yeah. Everyone- everyone else thinks I'm crazy. They don't like my stories, they never listen to me and they are probably godless, non-Americans. They don't even like me! Well screw them all to Hell! You're not like that Pyro. You listen to any thing I say. Like a dog! Yeah, a dog."
Silence again.
"You know Pyro... You remind me of someone I once knew... I think I knew before the war. Perhaps."
Soldier leaned in, he reeked of cigars and sour milk.
"For all we know, you can be a woman in there. At least we could pretend." Solder slid closer, whispering.
Soldier was horribly close to Pyro's ear-hole.
"Take the mask off sweetie. For me."
Pyro responded by smashing his half empty mug of scalding hot chocolate into the sides of the Soldiers face. The Soldier flew back, screeching, clutching his face like someone poured acid over it. Pyro took the opportunity to run. He jetted off towards the base, ignoring the yelling ordering him to come back following him from behind. He wouldn't stop, he couldn't stop and face him after what he just did. And he didn't stop until he reached the sweet sanctuary of his room, situated far from where the others slept. Slamming the door, he took out the long length of wood from under the bed he uses to barricade the door with and barricaded the door with it.
Breathing deeply, he stared at the now locked exit. He hoped no one would follow him. He hoped no one would knock, ask if he was alright... pretending that they cared. Like that Engineer, so kind, considerate and thoughtful. But Pyro knew the truth. None of them liked him. They think he's a monster. And in some ways, they are right.
Pyro took a deep breath, relived from the silence from the door. Yes, no one would ever visit him. He sat on his bed, staring through his knees towards the floor. The panic within his heart was still pulsating through him, thumping against his ribcage. He didn't know why either. He's bashed many BLU people with many objects and it never phased him before. Was it because he never attacked a teammate before? Pyro's heart jumped. That had to be it. Pyro stood and paced, his boots crunching the bits of kindling and trash left on the floor. He didn't know what came over him. He promised he wouldn't hurt them. He promised he'd look after his team. Be gentle, like a father or mother would be. Even if they don't return the sentiment. And the Soldier was the closest thing to a friend here. Normally, he usually allowed Soldiers advances as they were mostly harmless. It never went past the groping or the sloppy kisses and crying. Soldier usually continued until he ran off or got bored and left like nothing happened. But this time somehow, it felt like Soldier went too far. Was it that Soldier told him to take off his mask?
Pyro slammed the lumpy, stained mattress with his fist. Of course he had to go and spoil everything attacking Soldier. Ruining it all, all in hope that he'd make a friend.
Soldier won't talk to him now. He'll tell the others what he did, and they'll avoid him more... more-so. They'll laugh behind his back, call him names- Or what worse, what if they request a replacement? Demand he leave? He couldn't imagine what life would be like if he left. Where would he go? What place would accept one like him? This place was his home, they don't accept his merriment in the outside world. The world out there would destroy him.
The Pyromaniac raised a trembling hand to his neck. He couldn't breathe, he suddenly felt enclosed in his suit. He could never take it off. And he didn't know why. It was like instinct. Or was it- Fear? Yes, it was fear he was feeling.
The fear of what? Being "bad" came to mind. He did a bad thing. Now he had to be punished.
Where did that come from? Was it a memory?
He looked around the room. It was dirty, filthy. He doesn't even recognize it anymore. Moonlight shone through the crisped edges of his dusty curtains, his only light source. A cat skull laid near his dresser, next to the mirror attached to it.
He stared at his reflection.
He used to see the face through the lenses of the mask. An outline, an eye, anything. Now, all he sees is pure, empty black... darkness. He didn't know who was behind the mask. He couldn't remember when he last took it off. Pyro forced himself to inhale. They put the mask on him, but he's never taken it off.
Soldier wanted the mask off to see who was underneath. But not even Pyro knew what was under there. He couldn't remember.
Pyro shuddered. He wasn't always like this- but then again, he didn't know who -or what- he was like before. But the terror remained, festering inside. Making him tremble and feel ill.
Pyro gripped the sides of his head, trying to yell. He fought the urge to lash out, he hummed 'Toot Sweets', thought about "Howdy Doody", anything to keep in control. And he didn't know why he had to. Memories he long forgot were flooding inside his pounding brain like water pouring down a drain-pipe.
Only pain and hate-then darkness. He remembered it well. It surrounded him, covering him in cold. Covering his screams and smothering the beatings against the walls. The dark consumed him, driving more into madness. His only comfort was the chance to see the warmth that would be fire once more. Anything. Just a little. Just a flicker. He would be content with that. But they would never let him, not even once. They torture him with sharp instruments, bind him up, left him to suffer in the dark. Hours and days would pass like this. It was only light when the little screen in the door would open. Not the light he wanted, it was sharp and painful to look at. Nothing like the red, loving glow of a flame dancing on a candle wip.
Those people. He remembered them now. Three of them wearing white- like the Medic. Some wore glasses too. They would stare at him through that tiny window until it was shut again. The door which never opened. Not unless-
Pyro covered his head with his arms, now screeching into his mask in frustration. Trying to forget what they did to him. What they did to make him docile. Whatever they did, or try to do wasn't working anymore. He was returning to his previous state. A person he couldn't remember. One he didn't want to. He stared at the mirror again. He saw something simmer in the dark back at him, reflecting through the dark. His poor heart bashing against his ribcage ceased, he felt calmer than ever before.
It was the fire.
With shaking hands, he slid his fingers under the bottom of his gas mask.
He was going to find himself.
"Flush."
"Nyet. Not a flush, you're missing an ace."
I sheepishly retreated my hand. I am not good at this game.
"I'm not good at this game." I told him.
Heavy licked his lips, and scratched his arm, "You will get hang of dis. For now, we enjoy company. It is all in good fun."
I stared at his massive pile of poker chips that took up the majority of his side of his table. However, I felt a warmth grow inside. I was starting to, dare I say, like it here? I shuffled the cards in my hands, ordering them in colour. Heavy was really starting to grow on me. Yet, I couldn't say that about him. He looked ill, and trying to hide it. Heavy adjusted himself in his seat. Tiny beads of sweat decorated the top of his head.
"Are you alright Heavy?"
"I- Yes. I am fine."
He didn't look fine to me. In fact, he looked like his heart was going to explode. He was fine for the most part, except for the long stare he gave me when I asked for the fifth time what a full house was.
"Would you like some water? Or something?"
As much as I like the Heavy, he always looked like no matter what you say to him he was going to rip your limbs off anyway. I was still a little worried he might take me up on the offer. Yet, he didn't answer. He appeared confused, and stopped playing cards and was staring around the room. Pride of the Soviet I suppose? Damn, everyone is acting up lately. I don't know what to make of it. I returned to my own cards, and placed a pair of ace of red hearts.
"Heavy, your turn-"
Heavy was gone, his cards thrown on the table. I saw a glimpse of him at the door leaving. I sat alone, with a mountain of chips looming over me for company.
What's with him? I guess he went for that water after all. I blinked in the silence. The fans above even sounded muffled. No one had ever left me alone yet. And me with my injuries, who knows what shenanigans I might get into.
I hated being out of the loop
Not this man! I was going to take action! Take initiation! No longer will I be a burden! I stood, with much difficulty, bracing myself on the back of my chair. Hoping it wouldn't collapse, I slowly shifted a foot forward. Not bad, only felt like a chainsaw eating away at my flesh that time. Yes, I won't be the meek babysittee any longer! I was going to be a rebel.
I was going to bed.
Spy narrowed his eyes towards the fire pit, the glow of the fire was diminishing now. Solider either passed out in his own filth or is coyote chasing. Spy decided not to want to know which was true.
A stroll will clear his head, it was a cool, starry night. Plenty of natural desert beauty to keep him occupied. Yet, his mind kept returning to wine, RED and teleports. Perhaps he'd check up on the Sniper and see what chapter of his "classic literature" he's on.
"Spy?"
Spy turned, it was his burden. So much for natural beauty.
"Felizita?" He said, pretending to looked pleased. However, she did not return his smile. She rushed into his arms to embrace him tightly. She buried her face into his chest, she clearly was terrified.
"Spy! I'm here to warn you."
"Warn me?" Spy repeated slowly, peering down at her. Something was different about her. He hair smelled like soap.
She gripped his lapels and pulled him until their faces where almost touching.
"About that man Jackson. He's a spy! From BLU! We're all in danger!"
"Felizita-"
"We must find him! Find him! Interrogate him! Who knows what he's planning! We have no time to lose! Let's go quickly!"
The woman grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the RED buildings with impressive strength. Spy allowed her to lead him, all while reaching into the inside of his coat with his free hand.
"For once Jolie, you are absolutely right."
With a swift movement and a single shot, the image of the woman fizzed out and collapsed.
"You are in danger." Spy smiled as he directed a bullet straight into her back. He felt proud of himself for that one-line zinger.
Her body collapsed and convulsed on the dusty gravel as a watch alarm went off. Then, an average man laid in her spot. He wore a brown trench coat, and hat. Nothing fancy. He was clearly an American. The man hollered in pain, grasping and clawing at the bloody hole he couldn't reach. Spy wandered over and kicked him onto his back. The man didn't fight back, only wheezing loudly and taking deep breaths.
"Kill me." He begged
"No."
Spy crouched down and placed his knee across the man's neck, just slightly. Enough to make the man cough uncomfortably. The Spy slid his leather-clad hand behind the man's neck and felt delicately around for a scar.
"Just like I suspected. A respawn chip. At least that explains why all you messengers look the same."
"Ima-"
"Hmm? Forgive me, I can't hear you with my knee across your neck."
Spy pressed his knee deeper. The messenger gave a choking noise.
"You're going to die. Sooner or later. But, you will wake up in a moment after without a scratch. Alive, but left only with an unpleasant memory. But between that time and this, I will make it so excruciatingly painful, you'd wish you'd never been born."
He pushed the barrel of his gun deeper in the flesh of the other man's face.
"So, talk now and retrieve a painless ride back to base. Or I torture you. For a indefinite length of time. Simple. I have a free night you know."
The man looked like he nodded, he couldn't tell with his face getting all blue. Spy removed his knee and allowed the man to gasp for breath before answering.
"Not- not a messenger. I- I came to get intel."
"About?"
"Ma- Man- They don't know who he is. They think he's a spy."
Spy scoffed. He knew Felizita was part of this. She would throw anyone under the train for a buck.
" I suppose that watcher told you about him. Tell me, about Felizita. How much did she tell you? Does she still live? For real I mean, no respawn?"
"No, she's dead. Fer- for good." The man gagged a bit on some blood. Spy must had shot closer to his heart then he thought, "She tul- tuld us about you hiding a man."
Spy toyed with the barrel of his gun. It was still fully loaded, save for the one he just shot. Another question came to mind.
"Did you kill her?"
"Nuh."
Spy pointed it towards the man's forehead.
"Give my regards to whoever did. He made an ally today." Spy quirked, ready to pull the trigger after he was done talking.
"She- it was-" The man spat a load of blood into the dirt, "It was that brainy woman."
Spy lowered his weapon.
"Mrs. Pauling? What has she have to do with any of this?"
"She organized- she sent me out. Loads-" The man coughed, "They- think you're hiding something. They think your-"
"Hiding? What does the Administrator think we're doing? Why is she involved?"
The man struggled to speak.
"Trad-tradors-"
"Traders? Traitors?"
Spy went pale. He gave the man a violent shake, the man closed his eyes for a moment.
"Talk. How many others are coming? What has she done? Talk!"
The man shut his eyes again.
"Don't die now! How many? A team? A full scaled attack? Tell me!?"
Spy shook the man, slapped him across the face. But the man was dead, limp in the Spy's arms. The perfectly alive Spy composed himself and left the dead one where he lied. He stood and brushed himself off and calmly made his way towards the train tracks.
He was leaving.