"Yo Hardhat, don't bring a wrench to a gunfight dumbass!"
"Move! Schnell!"
"Mmmph!"
"Next time, tend to your own knittin', sawbones!"
Such were the cries of three men and one entity, the first being a young boy hailing from Boston, Massachusetts. He is hunched over, as to be expected when fufilling the role of the fastest class, and rather short hair. A black cap gifted by his mother when he first started working for Mann Co., along with an orange scouting headset, rest on his head whilst a pair of dog tags flies behind him. His beige pants were rolled up, allowing his knee-high socks and black striped-white running shoes to be hit freely by the wind. The boys' red short-sleeve t shirt, his team's primary colour, was somewhat obscured by a black duffel bag carrying, what most assume, to be his weapons. In reality, it's multiple cans of Bonk! Atomic Punch. The young man grabbed one of these cans with a hand covered in gauze, which was the result of an unfortunate cooking accident before the boy joined the ranks of the Reliable Excavation and Demolition company, better known as R.E.D.
This young batter was known to his colleagues, or colleague in this situation, as the Scout.
The Scout quickly drank a can of his favourite radioactive beverage, feeling the effects kick in immediately. Smirking, he left the corner he took cover behind, quickly running past a Level 2 Sentry Gun the smartest southener the United States has ever seen had placed down.
"Hey Overalls! Can't catch what'cha dumb toys ain't even hittin', 'ey?! You suck!" the Scout laughed as he ran by, flipping off the man with 14 PhDs.
Overalls, as is his namesake (coined by Scout, at least) implies, wears a dark blue variant of the clothing. His collared shirt also donned his team colour, albeit in a brighter shade alongside his class emblem resting on both sleeves, the outline of a wrench. A brilliant shade of yellow covered his bald head, alonside a pair of black goggles that makes it difficult to see the man's eyes. A yellow glove with a grey stripe with the same shade lying on his fingertips, matching with his hardhat and kneepads, rests on his mechanical right hand the inventor likes to call the Gunslinger. A tightly-fastened toolbelt rests above his waist, complete with a pouch and an electrical cord. His stubbled face grits his teeth in anger, knowing some mother-hubbard had the gull to taunt his hard work.
This was the Engineer for the Builders League United, or B.L.U, and he was furious.
"AH'M GONNA LAY YOU OUT, BOY! GIT OVER 'ERE!"
The Texan-raised cowboy took out his trusty shotgun, a metallic frame with a wooden grip and pump, and ran after the RED's Scout. Lucky for him, his Level 2 Sentry had stayed behind at the fabled point the men, and by extension their respective companies, were currently fighting over.
A doctor bearing German origins crouched behind a crate as to avoid being cut down by the flurry of bullets the dual-barreled machine was delivering. His white trench coat had a few red spots littered about, thanks to the aforementioned gun. As his self-healing time would not be enough, the jerry was looking around for any sort of health kit nearby. The man wasn't picky, and his eye was snagged on a small pill canister with a red cross on it. One of his gloves covered his wounds, and were made a darker shade of red than what they were before, whilst another pushed up his surprisingly durable spectacles. His red tie untightened, however, and fell slightly deeper into the coat, which also had two suspenders, mostly for the large car battery-looking device that has been attached to a fire extinguisher. The surgeon's logo has been imprinted onto the sleeves of the labcoat as well as this device, all in red, and seems to be connected to a fire hoze nozzle the German uses to heal his team out on the field.
This German is known as the Medic, and his self-healing ability has worked on his body just enough for him to take another sentry burst. Quickly, he raised his hand, expecting the worst. But to his surprise, he only heard clicking. A good sign.
The Medic did not waste any chances, and quickly got to moving. He pumped his free arm as hard as he can, pushing himself to his salvation. After what seemed like a century, although it had only been a minute, the Medic picked up the canister and twisted the cap right off, downing all of the contents. The pills seem to have done their job as the Medic wipes his mouth, only to quickly regret this decision as it was the bloody glove.
"Gah! Zhere the hell is zhe Scout? He zhould have ended zhat redneck by now..." the Medic quietly complained to nobody in particular, while making his way to the empty sentry gun..
He failed to notice a certain arsonist returning to the scene.
The other half of the remaining R.E.D members was running circles, literally, around the Engineer. The Scout was constantly jeering and taunting the older man, whose aim was unable to track the boy.
"Woo hoo hoo! Ma'd be so proud'a me!" He shouted, jumping onto the Engineer's hardhat, only to kick off of his improvised pogo stick and land on a higher platform.
"Your Ma would laugh at ye' for runnin' from a fight, mister!" The Engineer quickly fired another buckshot, to which the Bostonian cartwheeled to the left, nearly gaining a splinter.
"Missed me, 'ardhat! 'Sides, it beats sittin' round with all yer dumbass ma-mu-makeens!" Scout stuttered, before he flung his pistol high into the sky straight from its holster, which he grabbed as it was falling and immediately started firing.
Eight out of the twelve shots connected, leading to the cowboy firing more buckshots in retaliation. Scout was unable to manuever out of the way, and most of the Engineer's shots landed as well. Both fired off another shot from their respective firearms before rolling out of the way, taking cover behind barrels both red and blue.
"'Least I can read, boy! That French bastard ever taught you the alphabet 'fore he left?!" the Engineer shouted out, snowballing into a barrage of insults the youngest of the two began to spout.
"Fuck you, asshole, dat crouton ain't my dad! Ev'n if he was - which he ain't - I'da been fine on my own! You need, what, four rustbuckets keepin' you company?! 'Course ya do, jackass! Meanwhile I'm out here gettin' women!"
"Yeah, the ones ye been payin' $40 for!"
The Scout, in his rage abandoned his cover, flipping over his cover and onto level ground, and dashed to the Engineer's position, baseball bat in hand. The Engineer heard this occur, and peeked out with his shotgun. He was too late, however, and his head snapped back with the force of the bat striking him.
The corpse of the Engineer fell instantly, with the Scout celebrating.
"Yeah, play ball, you frickin' moron!"
The fastest mercenary then whipped his head to the general direction he left his Medic in, quickly dashing back, though slower than before. Those shots that bastard Engineer landed were starting to get to him.
"Oh, zhis is not gut."
The Medic was in a very bad position.
One of the German's worst nightmares whilst on the battlefield was standing right in front of him, the barrel of a monstrous homemade weapon staring him in the face, a flame dancing only a few inches away from his nose.
The one who wielded this weapon was in a full fireproof suit, coloured blue; no skin can be seen. A gas mask stared down the Medic, the soulless and unmoving eyes not budging. It had two grenades, presumably incendenary if this maniac's profession was anything to go by, strapped to a harness that kept up the gas tank that served as the reserve fuel for its equally beastly weapon, a flamethrower. How this mercenary was able to hold up such a thing like this, its black gloves save for dark yellow highlights gripping on it tightly, the Medic will never know. On the shoulders of the entity, its emblem was present, a yellow outline of a flame.
This being was known as the 'Pyro'. One of the most mysterious mercenaries, even surpassing Spy. Nobody knows what it looks like, nor its country of origin. Or, some theorize, if it's even from Earth.
None of this mattered to the doctor, however, as his face began to melt off the second the Pyro held down the trigger. What sound that followed would disturb even the toughest mercenaries, the screams of the damned. Respawn or not, skin falling off your skull due to extreme heat is still extremely painful and horrifying.
Once the remains of the Medic fell to the side, skull exposed to the world with odd, fleshy goo flowing both inside and outside the bone, the Pyro turned around to face the capture point. Engineer's sentry was still up, which was a good thing. What was not a good thing, however, was the lack of ammunition that's required for the sentry to operate.
The Pyro mumbled something incoherent, at least to the ears outside of the mercenary units of R.E.D and B.L.U. It walked over to the control point, sat down, and pulled out a colouring book. That Scout should be arriving sometime soon...
"Yo, chucklenuts! Y'just kill my doc?"
Oh, nevermind. There was no need to wait. Its friend was here already.
"Mmph! Mgrrrmph! Hudda hud mmf!"
The Pyro then opted out its flamethrower to conserve fuel, and pulled out their reliable secondary, that being a shotgun. It's the same model as the one the B.L.U Engineer had used. The Scout let out a single 'ha', and readied his scattergun.
"Mumbles, pal, you'll gon' be feelin' dis beatin' fer a while!"
Almost a split-second after, the sprinter had begun circling the Pyro, double-jumping to avoid shots the arsonist fired back. The Pyro, to Scout's surprise, was rather effecient at dodging, though their ability to track the young man was lackluster. Hits weren't landing, and the two were growing frustrated with the lack of progress. To break this stalemate, Pyro predicted Scout's movements, and shot ahead in his path. The boy shrieked (if one were far away enough, they would hear a little girl), but was unable to strafe out of the path for he was on his second double jump.
The Scout, already low on his health, felt most of the firebug's pellets connect with his torso. The knockback of such a force earned him next to the empty sentry gun, which the boy had forgotten about until recently. The Pyro looked in his direction, flaming eyes switching between the Scout and the sentry. The Scout, doing the same, hid behind the sentry and started looking around frantically for routes to flank the hellspawn with.
He heard the distinct sound of flames approaching, and barely had any time to get away. There were only a few burns on his duffel bag, though they were rather large. He turned around instantly whilst backing away, shooting his scattergun. The boy, annoyed that his pellets were hitting the sentry rather than the deranged fire fetishist, ran to his left and took potshots at the Pyro once again.
"W-What's the matter, you freakin' s-stupid?" the Scout managed to utter, despite his body succumbing to the earlier surprise shot, alongside damage inflicted by the Engineer. Nevertheless, the boy kept running, shooting and dodging, with the Pyro following the formula as well.
"Mission ends in 10 seconds."
That announcement really got the two battered mercenaries moving, their final few seconds more intense, and in turn, careless, than before.
The Scout's head was nearly blown off when he landed next to the Pyro after a double jump to avoid a wave of flames, and underestimated its reaction time. The boy ducked before a loud blast was heard, and a shell dropping to the floor.
"Missed me!"
Boston's slugger quickly distanced himself from the arsonist.
"Five."
The Pyro withdrew its secondary, returning to the flamethrower. There were only five seconds left, why conserve ammunition?
"Four."
Scout was quick to roll to the side, where the Pyro continued to spew a raging inferno.
"Three."
The firebug quickly adjusted its flamethrower's aim, tracking the Scout.
"Agh, crap!" the boy in question shouted, putting out a small flame on his shoulder.
"Two."
Pyro ran out of flamethrower fuel, and tossed the thing away. It will come back if they respawn, anyways. It pulled out his fire axe, and watched the boy closely for half a second, before throwing the tool.
"One."
The Scout, in a moment of sheer luck, dodged the axe, which earned an audible gasp from the pyromaniac. A wide grin was on the American.
"Take dat, mu-"
"You've failed!"
Suddenly, all weapons on the Scout's person had disappeared, for the time being. The boy stopped running, staring at the firebug, now holding a critical-infused shotgun. The Scout chuckled, knowing what's coming next for him.
"Agh, crap."
In the R.E.D's respawn room, Scout took note of the only other man present with him, the team's Medic. The Scout let out a groan of annoyance, sitting down next to the disgruntled doctor.
"No, seriously, this sucks."
"Jawohl. Why did zhey zhink a two versus two zituation vould be practical?"
The boy eyed the much older man. He never asked, never really wanted to, but an educated guess (as educated as Scout can be) led him to believing Medic was near his 40's or 50's. Why he was fighting at such an age, he'll never know. Unless it's for the money, in which case he knows completely.
"Yeah, why da hell do we gotta be stuck fightin' dose two? One of 'em gots fancy toys, an' de other's probably a fuckin' demon," the bruiser complained, digging around in his duffel bag and grabbing a can of Bonk! He chose to drink at a much slower rate, as to not accidentally activate the effects of the drink out of combat.
"Vell, ve've better get going. Fräulein Pauling vants us to, heh, zwitch locations avter each fight. I vonder vhat we'll be taking," the Medic chuckled, and stood up.
The boy did as well, though much earlier when his fiancee's name was mentioned. Eager to visit, the Scout ran out of the locker room, though only holding his can of Bonk! opposed to the usual versatile shotgun he's used to. Not wanting to be left behind, the Medic activated his Medigun and focused the beam on Scout, mainly to match the sprinter's speed.
"Thanks, doc!"
"Duumkopf, I'm doing zhis for myzelf. I can't keep up vithout zhis," Medic grumbled, to which his patient flipped him off, but kept running anyways. Their destination was the center, where Scout and Medic had perished.
"Eugh, I ztill vemember zhat abomination pointing its flammenwerfer at me," Medic shivered at the thought.
"Don' worry 'bout a thing, I'll rough up dat bastard."
"Schweinehund, it's a zeasefire! Ve have to move locations. Ver some veason or anozher."
The bickering stopped when the pair encountered their enemies, deathly glares shooting between the four. They hoped to move along quickly, wanting Pauling's 2v2 experiement to end as soon as possible and reunite with the rest of their team.
"Herr Engineer, has Fräulein Pauling contacted you?" Medic said warily.
"Yeah, she did. Girlie said she can't swing by with a truck, but uh, she did say a teleporter could work. Everythin' after this, though? She'll pick us up, heh," the Engineer finished with a chuckle, and pointed towards an already-spinning teleporter. It seems to have been upgraded to a level three already.
"Yo, you got a teleporter over where we's goin' or sumn'? Why's dat spinnin'?" Scout inquired, glancing at the Pyro once in a while. He still didn't like the bastard, especially since the boy was just murdered by him through critical shotgun buckshots.
The Engineer looked between the boy, and the Pyro, chuckling after the realization hit him. This mildly annoyed the Scout, wanting the cowboy to answer his question.
"'Ey, you deaf? I said how'd you set dis thing up? You gotta, special agent or sumn' at de next field?"
"Calm down, Herr Scout. Ve don't even know if zhe duumkopf himself kno-"
The Engineer interrupted the German, much to his displeasure.
"Hehe, nah. Pauling set it up. Ah gave her the, teleportation coordinates, that mine're usually linked te'," Engineer explained, tapping his hardhat nearing the middle of the sentence.
"Engineer, is zit zafe vor Reds to cross a Blue teleporter? Ve von't know what vould happen, or if ve are even compatible," Medic voiced his concerns, Scout nodding in realization.
"Well, there's a firs' for everythin', ain't there?"
Scout and Medic looked at each other for a brief second, then their attention focused on the teleporter, ignoring the firebug sitting down next to it. The swirling blue aura it emitted, waiting for anyone bearing the same colour to step on it and be whisked away to wherever the next combat location may be.
"Herr Scout, you go in virst."
"WHAT!?"
The Medic nudged the Bostanian forwards, little by little. The Engineer watched the display, muttered a curse about these damn R. and went back to fiddling with his PDA. Everything seemed to be in order, the exit teleporter was fine. The Texan shifted his eyes upwards a little bit, checking on the status of his beloved sentry gun. It still appeared to be online, but heavily damaged. Sighing, the Engineer ordered an immediate self-destruct of the machine, not wanting good gears to go to waste like that.
"Alrighty, then," the Engineer turned back to face his ally and enemies, "we're good to-"
"What in Sam Hill's goin' on here?!"
A white orb appeared above the teleporter, with both R.E.D members and the Pyro gone from sight. It didn't take 14 PhDs to know where they went, and Engineer frantically checked his PDA again. The 'Teleport Entrance' section was corrupted, the symbol not even able to be shown.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" the Engineer shouted, before the gradually-growing white orb began to pull him in suddenly. The Engineer had nothing to grab on to, except handfuls of dirt. The only thing left of the four was a pair of dog tags and the barely standing teleporter entrance, now smoking, with the exception of a white orb floating above it.
"Augh..."
"Doc..."
"MMrmph."
"What zhe hell...?"
After coming to, the small group of mercenaries looked at their surroundings. They were no longer in the empty, dead badlands. No, this place was a forest. A massive one, as far as the hired gun can tell, as there was no obvious end to the trees.
"I don't, uh, zhink zhis is vhere our new bases are," Medic muttered, calm and collected.
At this point, R.E.D's Scout finally managed to sit straight up, looking around. His eyes landed on something peculiar, however, something that does not match the rest of the scenery. Part of it, the head, the boy guessed, was covered in white plating. Almost bone-like. Two holes were punctured through the bone armour, a red glint. Possibly the eyes... but everything else appeared to have had black fur. Pitch black, the Scout couldn't separate shadow from fur.
"Yo, uh, Doc? Dat look like a regular wolf t' ya? Dey usually got red eyes?"
A/N: So that's somethin special, ain't it
Hey guys, just wanted to say something real quick, to kill any high expectations one of yous mighta had for me. No, chapter uploads won't be scheduled, they might take a few months each because A) school, B) laziness and C) occasional hobby status. You might not see the second chapter for a long time, but hope this fufills you story-hungry mongrels enough for now
And no, I haven't had an overarching plot idea set in stone yet, this was more or less to kickstart the story, so I don't mull over it for like a month. If the story looks better later on I'll come back and maybe change a few things to fit with the rest of the plot
But hey, hope you like the character lineup, 'specially since they're on opposite teams rather than all of 'em being on RED. We like to spice things up around here, and having the rest is out of the question. Someone might get forgotten later on in writing and become a major plot hole. I don't want that (as a small treat if I feel nice one wednesday I might toss in one more class to make it even more interesting, and satisfy whoever mains them)
Also, if the fight scene looked a lackluster that's on me. I'm still relatively new to writing action scenes, and usually just more interested in dialogue, especially banter between characters. If this continues I promise I'll improve
also everyones gonna be using stock, because fuck you, except for weapon reskins (stuff like a frying pan, not an autumn shotgun)
Anyways, thats really about it. I'll see you guys in the next half a year, probably