First, the chapter's name is a reference to a very iconical Spanish quote "I came here to talk about my book" which was said by a Spanish writer after going to a TV show and not being able to promote his book until he stood up and complained. Nowadays, it means something like "I came here with this objective and I plan to fulfill it." By the end of the chapter, you'll understand why I used it.

Second, GOOOOOD! It's been half a year since the last chapter. My life has changed so goddamn much. GOOOOD!

Third, I had this chapter almost done for many months and somehow yesterday before going to sleep I got inspiration and finally finished it. I stayed up until 1 am. I regret nothing.

Fourth, I can't promise to be active again but I'll make an effort to get another chapter for Christmas. Brave New Update or Vegemite Sandwich. I don't want to be too optimistic and say one of both.

DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE IN THIS CHAPTER

CHAPTER 15 - I came here to talk about my slaughter

"Hmmm..."

"Ah! Wizardry!"

"Wot?"

"Uh?"

"Wmphd's mhis?"

"Ha!"

"Late but thank you, labourer."

"Ah... Thanks, mate."

"You're credit to the team."

At noticing the befuddled faces of the mercenaries who weren't accustomed to their virtual condition, the Solly-Engie urged them with a polite tone.

"Just accept it, please."

Medic huffed in a restrained manner and bit his tongue from complaining at the sanctimonious offer. Why were these men so determined to prevent a fight? Why did they struggle so fruitlessly? It made his blood boil. He already had assembled a magnificent, almost villainous, speech for his switch-side revelation and now it was going to go to waste. After this particular turn of events, siding with the crazy Texan would have been completely out of place and more importantly, it would have put him in a very precarious position. If this other Engie was at the same level as his insane counterpart, betraying the bigger group would have only meant suicide. He will not commit the same error twice. The blood-thirsty German was going to remain silent and be patient. As much as needed. He had priorities and something very dear to protect for the first time in many years. His freedom.

The RED Sniper tried to make eye contact with the creator of the notification but at finding it impossible with that screen of text in the middle of his visual field, he imitated the BLU Soldier and clicked the air as if the notification was tangible.

Like a spider web being consumed by fire, the maniac Texan felt the digital connections to his hacked victims die out in the span of a couple of seconds. In its place, modest solid walls of code were erected, blocking him from the content he had been snooping. His info panel notified him that regaining immediate access wasn't attainable anymore but a concentrated attack of his processing power could still tear down their new firewalls. It estimated that it would only require four hours individually and more than one hundred if he wanted to hack them simultaneously.

In fewer words, he had been kicked out.

His minutes of playing to be the all-knowing big brother were allegedly over but that was something that hadn't come as a surprise for the insane Engineer. He had been expecting this moment since the hacking duel against his BLU counterpart had begun. Since the mercenary group had stepped into the room.

He grunted and made a face, like a crotchety father irritated by his son's stupidity. Spy was quite sure that expression had been stolen from his personal archive.

"Did any of y'all take a look at what y'all were installin' into yer code before acceptin' it? For all y'all know, he could've added a worm or a backdoor on that package and ya'd have fallen for it like morons."

Nobody replied to him.

He wasn't exactly wrong but in their situation, they had chosen the lesser of two evils. In this matter, they weren't particularly in the position to err on the side of caution. Not when this lunatic genius presented the biggest threat to their cybernetic privacy. It was pretentious by his part to give them advice on this topic, in particular after being the main cause that had forced them to require a firewall in the first place.

"Ignore me as much as ya wanna, sissies. I'll get my fun from somewhere else."

All of a sudden, the psychotic Engineer became taut. His uppish countenance vanished from his face and his lips thirstily curled up. Simultaneously, his glove began shinning with an eerie black particle effect and the light behind his goggle lends sparked like a thunderstorm, giving him a demonical bearing.

The moment had arrived. This maniac was finally going to snap.

The mercenaries got ready to fight back. No matter what the odds suggested, they weren't going to go down so easily. They might not have been the men their memories said they were but after emerging victorious from never-ending enraged Merasmus, walking skeletons, hundreds of Monoculus, the Headless Horseless Horseman, a soul-demanding pirate, sojourns to hell and other fuck-up dimensions, impossible hordes of robots, mighty Saxton Hales, an enormous mutated bread and the Team Classic, they felt pretty qualified against this demigod or whatever he wanted to call himself.

However, instead of the violent reaction they had all been anticipating; the lunatic Texan chuckled elatedly and took a drag of his cigar.

HA, HA, HA! He loved putting these men on edge!

He slapped his knee as he chortled. The mercenaries narrowed their eyes and grunted under their breath. Their loathing was growing by the second. Their dam of hate was going to collapse sooner or later.

Spy exhaled with a condescending emphasis. Why were they even taking stoically this madman's provocations? To prove that they were better than him? Because they were scared of death? This crazy Engineer might have humiliated him before but he was taking no more. He was getting out of this place and if he died, so be it. He will respawn, right?

Heavy noticed Spy hesitantly eyeing the corridor from where they had come and he couldn't agree more with his thoughts. Or at least, what he thought he was thinking. This was getting tiresome. This lunatic was just going on a loop, testing how much their patience could be stretched. He didn't understand why the elder Soldier wasn't doing anything. Was he concocting a plan? Was he out of ideas? Respawn was still on. Wait... Perhaps, they didn't know that. Perhaps, that's why nobody was doing anything. Perhaps, it was Heavy's turn to take the lead.

Heavy turned around and walked a couple of steps towards the balcony. He didn't announce his departure, he just walked. However, when it looked like he would leave without any repercussions, the Commander placed a hand over his shoulder. Heavy twisted his head to read the silent message that his face might be sharing but the RED veteran wasn't looking at him. His gaze was lost towards the exit, as if he could see a whole universe there, invisible for the rest of the mortals. His face showed apprehension towards something beyond his complete understanding.

There was something possibly dangerous there that only him could only see. Could it be worse than death?

The half-metal psycho didn't give them time to exchange words, he ceased unexpectedly while they were still partially confused and approached, almost drunkenly, the Rocket-Engie.

"Congratulations, mister!" He clapped sarcastically. "It took ya more than I reckoned to share yer firewalls with the rest. But in the end, ya acted as the wimp ya were programmed to be. Although... ya still didn't give 'em the whole pack. Why? Ya have a shitload of security layers on ya. A massive shitload." He emphasized and tilted his head creepily. "What fucked up crap are ya hidin'? I'm curious. 'Cause it's huge. Ya weigh more than all of us combined and I weigh a damn fuckton, so that's an achievement."

That comment caught the attention of the Commander. The word of this degenerate tinkerer couldn't be trusted but what he had just mentioned lined up with his suspicions. He didn't know why or how but at first seeing the BLU Engie face to face, just after he had landed from his rocket-jump, his binary intuition had begun screaming like crazy at him that there was something ominously unusual with the man. Without stopping to consider the implications at that moment, he had instinctively attempted to reach his code just to be hindered back by seemingly endless walls of defences.

Elder mercenaries shielded by security layers was something the RED veteran was quite familiarized with. In fact, he also carried his own not-so-little fortress by the grace of an old good friend so the digital barriers weren't the cause of that feeling. It had to be related to the nature of what was being hidden and the unstable Texan might have just given him an inkling.

"That's none of yer business, pardner." The BLU Engie retorted defensively.

"Oh, please... Call me Gunner. Rex Gunner. Ya earned my name."

That wasn't his real name.

Or, at least, not the name by which he claimed to be famous in that aforementioned virtual community. The Solly-Engie was sure of that, if not he would have undoubtedly recognized this man.

Setting modesty aside, he was a pretty well-connected programmer so it was needless to say that there was no way he hadn't come across or heard about any Rex Gunner before, especially as to how attention-craving and talented this other Engineer was.

The madman's public profile showed that he was only 4 months older than him but the code that was attacking the Rocket-Engie's firewalls was far more elaborated than what himself was capable of writing. It denoted the time-investing specialisation of a more mature mercenary than his age stated.

Rex Gunner might have been his hacker alias but the BLU Engie had to admit that it suited him like a glove. Pun not intended. All the pre-made programs he was throwing at his RED rival were been reduced to spitballs in comparison to the metaphorical machine gun that was aimed at him. This maniac was truly a cybernetic gunner.

But even such a great gunner was still insufficient against his impenetrable digital citadel. It must have been very frustrating for his doppelganger how swimmingly he was holding on despite the incredible display of raw strength and technique. He might not have had as much power attack as him but he was an undeniable worthy rival in terms of defence.

With his chin lifted up and an impassive glint in his eyes, he 'introduced' himself too.

"I'll be Garrison, then."

"No first name?" The insane Texan inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

Francis was a relatively common name between Engineers but that was the name he had used since day zero so he wasn't fixing on telling him. Gunner had been able to recognize the legendary Screaming Eagle just by his serial number, a piece of information that himself had been unaware of. Thereby, he deserved no clues about his true identity.

"Not for ya."

His crazy counterpart snorted amused at the snappy retort.

"Alrighty, then. A pleasure to meet ya, Garrison."

With a psychotic grin from ear to ear, the cyborg offered him his gloved hand for a handshake. It was perturbing how unsettling jubilant he was acting. He had supposedly taken a hard blow regarding his prying pastime but instead, he was behaving as if he hadn't been the one in the losing side.

The truth was that he couldn't be more thrilled. It was going to be so satisfying when he eventually crushed this Garrison. It had been a long time since someone had posed such an interesting challenge.

The Rocket-Engie squinted at the hand. Then, he examined it. He examined it in depth. With a justified mistrust, he went over the code that constituted that offered hand. Almost instantly, he found a virus between the lines.

It was a program designed to obtain access into a close network through a physical port. No effort had been made to try to hide it but the simple conception of that virtual idea was brilliant. It was a clear taunt to his programming skills but it was also evidence of how this Engineer had totally interiorized their condition as artificial intelligences. After all, most of the rules from ordinary computers could also be applied to them. They were just sentient code made from zeros and ones.

By the chuckle of his lunatic counterpart, the astonishment he was feeling was probably being portrayed on his face.

The Solly-Engie stared at him with an admiration he hadn't felt for any other Engineer in a long time. It was truly unfortunate this man had chosen to oppose them. The BLU tinkerer would have really appreciated the contributions of his intellect to his cause.

Damn...

Fuck! Fuck! Damn fucking shit! Why the legendary Screaming Eagle and this guy had to end up on the same map as him?

The BLU Engie mentally took a deep breath and obviously didn't accept the handshake. Instead, he opted for buying some time to evaluate his options so he put his genius brain to work. He needed a distraction for the meanwhile. He needed something so irresistibly alluring that would make this insane cyborg disregard his logic and slip his tongue. What did a psychotic megalomaniac love more than power and gore?

Exactly!

Talking about himself.

"From Texan to Texan, why are ya doin' this?"

"Ain't clear? He's a bloody madman. That's why." The BLU Sniper whispered incredulously to himself. Everyone around him gave him a subtle nod of agreement.

If the unstable Engineer heard him by any chance, he ignored the intromission and bit the delicious cue he had been given.

"I gladly tell ya." He smiled sinisterly. "I'm a psychopath."

The BLU Australian made a face of "See? I told you so." Spy rolled his eyes in a sarcastic "No shit, Sherlock? We hadn't noticed."

The degenerated Engineer continued with an unruffled tone.

"I'm a psychopath, like y'all here." That allegation caught the attention of the whole room and a terrible realization halted the BLU Texan's heart. He had asked the wrong question. He could see it in his doppelganger's terrifying calmness. This question was what this lunatic had been looking forward all along.

"Oh, no, no... Don't lie to yourselves. I can read yer faces. I can read yer thoughts." He smiled eerily. Not being absolutely sure if he was telling the truth or just kidding made that smile one thousand times scarier.

"Ya'll're tellin' yerselfs: 'I'm nothing like this lunic.' Ain'tcha nothing like me? Horseshit! Do y'all hate winnin'? Do y'all hate killin'? Do y'all hate the sound of an explosion blowin' up your enemies in fuckin' little small pieces? Of course y'all don't. Y'all love the smell of gunpowder, sweat and blood in the air, on ya, on the grass, on the shitty glitchy walls. Y'all love beatin' the fuckin' crap of others with your melee weapons. Y'all love rejoicin' in the pool of blood created from your own slaughter. Bathed in it, grinnin' like a maniac. Y'all love watchin' things getting' fuckin' destroyed in the most barbaric ways possible. Buildings, people, cosmetics, weapons, anything! Y'all love emergin' victorious from a fight you should've lost but you didn't. Where a better, smarter, faster, stronger and wiser man died by your hands but because of fuckin' luck or crits or somethin' beyond the God of Gods, ya didn't. Now, imagine the pleasure, if for once in our damn life, our real damn fuckin' life, we could choose to do those things however we wanna. Snap that neck exactly as ya wanna, feelin' the vertebras crack under yer fingers. Stab that chest exactly as ya wanna, hot blood taintin' your blade and drippin' through your whole arm. New thousand ways of killin' awaitin' yer wits and brawls to be rediscovered. Imagine."

He grinned at his audience as a fulfilled prophet, as if he was bringing enlightenment to his beloved people. The comparison couldn't be farther from the truth. This moment of silent wasn't meant for ascension or elucidation. This speech was for bringing darkness and death. It was proposedly orchestrated for moral corruption.

"Are ya sure y'all nothing like me? 'Cause I'd love tryin' my odds against y'all and I know y'all, each one of ya, would like to do the same."

He extended his arms and snapped the fingers of his black-gloved hand. The mercenaries heard glass exploding behind their backs and they turned around to find some kind of glittery dust falling to the ground like snowflakes. The Commander's intuition had been right. The Texan psychopath had previously sealed all the exits of the room with a similar barrier as the one for the Respawn room. And now, they were gone. All of them.

The Respawn room was a free buffet.

Flee or fight.

The blood-thirsty cyborg eyed them, relishing in their reactions, and finished his macabre sermon with the foreseen proposal.

"Shall we?"

Yes, that final speech is the part I got stuck on.