There was something on his back.
The Sniper jerked, half from the respawn generator kicking him back to life and half from a paranoia he'd developed about having foreign things on or in his back. Thick, disgusting ooze dribbled down his entire body. Memories of sleeping in the carcasses of animals haunted the edges of his consciousness. He pushed the object off his spine, tossing it forward and out.
Out! He had to get out!
The Sniper grabbed the edge of the plant, pulling at the sinews still attached to his body. They popped and tore away, the ivy tips leaving swollen, bloody dots along the course they wove. He landed in an awkward sprawl outside of the plant, cold rain reviving his senses. His foot dragged across something hard. He paid it no attention, pondering instead at the horror that he'd thrown out of the plant.
Miss Pauling.
She was white, save for the splatter of red in her lower right hip. It looked like a bullet had passed clean through her. The Sniper dug through a vest pocket, finding a brown, paisley patterned handkerchief. It wasn't going to be enough, but it was the cleanest cloth he had. His vest and shirts were stained with his blood and various plant fluids. It wasn't going to be enough. He panicked, his sense not entirely present. How had she found him? What shot her?
"Mundy! Duck!"
The Sniper didn't second-guess that command. He leaned down, pressing his entire body against the wound. Scattered bullets sailed overhead, spraying worse than a sawed-off shotgun. Well, that explained Miss Pauling's injury. He looked towards the object shooting those rounds, his jaw hitting the floor. It looked like a half-destroyed bipedal sentry. Insane. Then again, so was the thought of the giant plant attacking it. Both had torn each other apart. Their battle was coming to an end, but it wouldn't be long before one of them turned back to destroying Miss Pauling, the Engineer, and him.
Dell! The Sniper was surprised to find the Engineer by his side, trying to examine Miss Pauling's injury. The Texan hissed. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"
"Tell me she's in the respawn machine." The question came out of him like a demand.
The Engineer stammered. "I—I don't know. I mean, I took one copy of her, when she first started here. I'd think that would do it, but I don't know if the copy made it here."
The Sniper snarled, sharp teeth exposed. "Then let's not piss around." He hoisted Miss Pauling off the ground, dumping her into the Engineer's lap. Without delay, he dug through his left vest pocket, swirling a key ring around his finger and tossing that to the Texan as well. He reached for the hard thing at his feet, finding the handle of his bushwacka. That crazy woman had chopped him out. She'd saved him. Might as well return the favor.
The Australian leapt behind the titanic plant, bolting towards the nearest broken window. The Engineer followed him, not entirely sure what the Sniper was up to. The Sniper took the back of his knife, smashing sharp remains of the shattered glass out of the way. He stepped outside, waving the Engineer through. A missile beat the Texan outside, but it hit too high and too far to the left to be of any concern.
The duo stumbled down a grassy hill, the Engineer almost landing on his back. The grass was slick, the skies cloudy and dark. He readjusted the grip he had on the woman in his arms. "Could use some details, pardner."
"Get 'er to my van." The Sniper slipped around the front of the house, going much too fast for the short man with his burden. He hopped over to the Medic's van. The Teutonic doctor was going to be furious, but he saw no other option. The Sniper cracked his bushwacka against the Kombi's rear passenger window, the glass giving way to the sharp blows. He fumbled with the lock, releasing the doors to the back.
Discovering all of those medical supplies was like finding one of the lost cities of gold.
The Engineer was fast in unlocking the Sniper's van. He placed Miss Pauling on the fold-out couch that the Sniper used as a bed. Bounding in behind the Texan, the marksman threw every useful item he could find to the Engineer. The Medic had a mother lode of goodies. A first aid kit, a vial of the doc's miracle gel, a needle, thread, alcohol, peroxide, gauze, bandages. All neatly packaged and ready to go. The Sniper dug through his own materials, tossing a few extra towels over. The Engineer smiled, pleased with the tools the Sniper had raided. Maybe it wasn't much, but it was better than waiting around for the missing Medic.
The Engineer had a little experience with applying this gel to others, but that didn't stop his stomach from rolling as he set to work. He took a towel, propping it below her wound. Some of her blood had seeped into the couch, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be cleaned later. He cracked open the gel bottle, pouring the contents through Miss Pauling's injury. The liquid slid through, foaming and clinging to red tissue. At least it was having a reaction. That looked promising.
Fumbling with another towel, the Engineer wiped some of the gel away. The wound had sealed shut. New skin had grown over it, a pale circle just about the size of a half dollar coin. It almost looked intentional, like a tattoo. That was going to leave a peculiar scar. He was amazed with the results. Clearly, the Medic should have been doing something better with his life. If this solution ever got into the public—
"That'll do?" The Sniper interrupted his thoughts.
"I think so. I can't do much about the blood she's lost, but the wound's taken care of." The Engineer crouched next to her, watching for signs of improvement. She looked pale, but her breathing was steady. "I think she'll make it."
The Australian hunkered down, observing her. "Well, I'm not going anywhere 'till we know."
Maybe the Engineer could have gone back to check on that robot. See if he could find a keycard on it. Perhaps even find the other teammates and tell them what had happened. Really, only one of them needed to stay here to watch her.
He didn't want to leave, either.
The rest could wait. Miss Pauling was worth their time.
"It's quiet. Too quiet."
The Heavy glared at the Soldier. "Is bad line."
The Soldier's eyebrow twitched. Leave it to the pinko to be bossing him around. If anybody was going to be in charge, it was going to be an American. Since neither the Scout nor the Engineer was here to challenge him for leadership rights, that left him as the captain. Not like either of those sissies would fight him for it, anyway. As the de facto leader, that meant he had to tell the Scotsman and the Russian what was what. Now, if he could only figure out what to do next.
"Blimey. What in the hell is that?" The Demoman pointed towards the top of the stairs.
There was a sizeable hole blasted out of the stairwell. Oh, yeah. The cyclops hadn't met their little robot buddy yet. "Don't worry about that. It's not all that important. Not until we get guns or bombs or something." The Soldier was looking forward to a second round with the machine, but perhaps on a fairer level. With a rocket launcher. Maybe a football field's length of distance between him and the robot. Perhaps a nuke.
Come to think of it, where had that robot gone? The Soldier glanced around the lobby, finding peculiar gouges in the walls to the right. There was a cacophony of noises coming from that direction, too. Turrets. Slamming. A beautiful symphony of war. He should probably go conduct it, but—
"What is this?"
The Soldier snapped to attention. Damn commie was getting ahead of him. He'd made his way up the blasted-out stairwell, setting up the Medic statue left at the top. The Russian wasn't sure what to make of it. He ran a chunky hand over its surface, holding it in place on the left wrist. The Demoman joined the Heavy's investigation, poking the material and frowning. Jane didn't see what the big deal was. Yeah, the metal was weird. Very soft. Warm. But still, nothing as interesting as a giant killer robot.
The Soldier growled. "If you ladies are done, I'd like to—"
His eyes widened. Sweet scrimping Robert McNamara! He snapped the Demoman and the Heavy towards him, away from the eyes in the hallway. Oh, yeah. The Soldier totally knew what that was in the shadows, crossing her way into the second floor of the lobby. Couldn't know what the cyclops was and not a gorgon. Man, that creature was beautiful. He didn't particularly like snakes, but the way those dozens of tiny snakes on her head moved around…
He shook his head, trying to snap his brain out of it. Hypnosis? Never heard of a gorgon with hypnosis. He reached for the Demoman's eye patch, snapping it around his good eye and leaving the empty socket open to the world. The motion was rigid. Dammit, he was turning too fast. He'd have to talk quickly.
"Don't turn around. If either of you've got something sharp, it'd better go to Tavish." The Soldier's tongue was burdened, like it was held down with a nine-volt battery. He was going to have to speak shorter. Luckily, the Heavy did have something on him. Looked like a meat cleaver. Maybe that was how he was able to make sandwiches on the battlefield so fast. He slipped it to the Demoman, placing it in his right hand.
The Soldier nodded. He tried stepping forward, but found his legs frozen in place. Crap. Not much time left. He tried turning his head to face the Demoman. His neck was fixed, forcing him to look at an odd angle. At least he could provide some last-minute tactics. "On my signal, turn around. Charge and swing."
"A'ight." The Demoman prepared himself.
The Soldier was about finished turning into Australium. His tongue was immobile. Crap. He could still grunt one last command. The word came out sounding like "Euergh!" Fortunately, enough, the Demoman knew what that meant.
Tavish one-eightied on the ball of his right foot. With a mighty cry, he charged into the east side of the stairwell. He crashed into something, the impact sending a shudder through his body. He hadn't landed in anything fleshy. The Demoman buried his knife into the wall, missing whatever Jane had been talking about by a few feet. He struggled with the cleaver, trying to pull it back out. He'd wedged it into the wall, the blade severing wooden molding.
"Where is it?" Tavish asked.
The Soldier couldn't respond. He was frozen solid, Australium through and through. The Heavy sighed, now understanding what the Medic had gone through. How long had he been standing there before his teammates found him? No wonder they didn't know what had happened to him. It wasn't every day that a man was turned to Australium. Now there were two in the exact same situation. How unfortunate.
Now he turned to face the same fate. The Heavy glanced at the gorgon, trying to get a point fixed for the blinded Demoman. He was struck with a culmination of several feelings, all tangled and woven together. Fear was the predominant one, mixed with a touch of awe and amusement. The gorgon saw him, too. She smiled at him, long teeth jutting over her lips. There was more beast than human to this creature, and yet, it still held an air of beauty. The Heavy's heart should have been racing at such a glance, but it was slowing to a dull, leaden thump.
The Russian snapped himself out of it. That gorgon was right behind the Demoman, less than a meter away. He was still struggling with the knife in the wall. The hilt gave a little jiggle, then popped out. The Heavy paced himself, trying to find an accurate way to communicate with the Demoman. He wasn't risking becoming a statue just to have the Demoman miss again.
"Turn right. Stop when I say." The Heavy watched the Demoman turn slowly, once again settling his weight on his right foot. For being drunk, the Scotsman had a certain grace to his movements. Maybe being wasted all the time served to give him a second kind of balance. The Heavy waited patiently, a metallic sheen waving across his skin. Not much time left.
The Demoman lined up with the gorgon.
"Now!" the Heavy shouted.
With a mighty bellow, the Demoman pushed forward, swinging the meat cleaver back and forth in a mad criss-cross. His first four attacks hit nothing, stirring only air. The gorgon tried doubling back, rolling over its tail. It wasn't fast enough. The fifth strike hit flesh. The monster made a high-pitched scream, something distinctly human. Even with the wailing heavy on his conscience, the Demoman knew he couldn't let up. He pushed forward, slashing two more times. The screaming stopped mid-way through the gorgon's throat, a bubbling sound gushing forward.
Then a small thump.
Then, a larger one.
Was that it? The Demoman lifted his eye patch, placing it on his empty socket once more. "Gaaaah!"
Now he was seeing what everyone else had been staring at. The body half was snake from below the creature's hips, covered with smooth scales. The woman part up to the neck would have been pretty, had it not been covered in dark verdant blood. Gorgons had green blood. Go figure. Strung around the severed neck of the creature was a necklace, a card looped through the ball chain. The creature's head was about the size of a human's, hair replaced with dozens of tiny vipers now slack-jawed in death. Her face was fixed in a permanent howl, sharp cheekbones and teeth worse than that of an angler fish's exposed. It was horrifying, even in death.
"Good job, you lush!"
The Demoman looked up. Life was coming back to the Soldier and the Russian, the glowing Australium fading back into pink skin. More surprisingly, the Medic was reviving as well. So that had been him! All three were somewhat woozy from the transformation. The Soldier hobbled towards the Demoman, giving him a high five before sitting down. The Medic nearly tripped into the blasted remains of the stairwell, worse off than the others for his extended time spent frozen. The Heavy had him covered. He carried the babbling doctor over to the Soldier and Demoman, placing him against a solid wall.
The Medic murmured, holding his right hand against his forehead. "Fess. Mein gehirn."
"Is okay, Doctor." The Heavy gave the Medic a pat on the back. "We could use break, da?"
The Soldier hated to admit it, but he could use a few minutes to get over being a statue. He sighed. "Fine. We can take a five-minute celebratory rest. Then we get back to work."
Miss Pauling didn't know exactly what she was planning on seeing.
She had one of two general assumptions. The first possibility was that she would just wake up back in the conservatory, her shirt damaged but her wounds otherwise healed. The second would be something supernatural. Bright lights, clouds, maybe brimstone. Some scene to prove she was clearly dead.
She hadn't expected to come to in the Administrator's convertible. Perhaps she should have thought a dozen different things, but the first concern that came to mind was whether or not she was getting blood on the white leather interior. The Administrator struck her as somebody who would fire her staff for wrecking her car. Then again, she had the top rolled back in the rain, so Miss Pauling didn't know what to think.
Her boss greeted here with a low chuckle. "You were doing so well, too."
"Apparently, not well enough." Miss Pauling sat up, looking outside of the car. The two women were parked at the edge of a cliff, a valley tumbling below them. She could see the manor, the barns, a lake. All of it was sealed off from the rest of the world by a blue hemisphere, shimmering as rain splattered across its surface. "I am surprised that I'm alive."
"Of course you are! Would I let my favorite assistant die in such a little game like this?" The Administrator reached over, pinching Miss Pauling's cheek. The motion was awkward, out of character.
Miss Pauling frowned. "Some game. It's quite different when you're in the thick of it."
The Administrator gave an impatient huff. She flicked the car's lighter open, placing the tip of a fresh cigarette inside the receptacle. Bringing it back to her lips, the Administrator scoffed her employee. "Oh, don't be so sensitive. Those dogs murder each other on a routine basis. The only difference this time is that one team is not human. Really, you should feel sorry for those poor beasts. Most of them don't even understand what is going on."
"I suppose so." Miss Pauling watched the manor with a sense of detachment. Little bursts of fire rocked around the manor like the last of lightning bugs dying with the fall. She turned away, overcome with a feeling of sheepishness. "They were intent on protecting me, though. I didn't expect that."
"Why wouldn't they? They don't know about your other skills. You are just a civilian." The Administrator leaned back, tobacco soaking into her lungs.
Civilian? That wasn't the term Miss Pauling was expecting the Administrator to say. "I thought you were going to imply socialized sexism."
That brought a dark laugh from the Administrator. "Oh, no. They're perfectly capable of fighting and killing women." She flicked ash out of the car, careful not to have the residue land on the paneling. "Before I hired you, I briefly had a female mercenary. She was good enough, I suppose. Had to have the Spy put her down, though. I believe he buried her out in Harvest. I tolerate a lot of things, Miss Pauling, but even I have my limits."
Miss Pauling smirked. "What did she do? Leave the curling iron plugged in?"
"Assault. " The Administrator became quiet about the topic. "Let's leave it at that."
"Sorry I asked." Miss Pauling turned her head back to the carnage. She knew that everybody involved in this war had a sordid past, but no one openly talked about it. She was lucky to hear snippets of history, just enough to know that the foreigners had good reason to run to America. Really, she knew less about the United States citizens than the others, outside of the Scout's borderline oedipal concern about his mother's relationships. Maybe their battles were the safest times for them.
The Administrator didn't seem to be too concerned about her assistant's inquiries. She tilted her head upwards, her eyes empty as she stared into the dark, stormy night. "They have changed since I first employed you. This team in particular. They've…softened. I am disappointed to say I'm not completely upset about that, either."
"Thank you, I suppose," Miss Pauling didn't know if that was an insult or a compliment, but she was feeling optimistic.
"You know, you've been rather instrumental in getting them through their challenges tonight. It may be cruel of me to take you out of play. They may be stuck down there for quite a long time, wandering with no direction." The Administrator gave her a smile, her teeth flashing in the rain like lightning. "So, what do you say? Do you want to help them finish their little tasks?"
Miss Pauling nodded, the motion a little too quick and eager. She felt embarrassed but managed not to blush too deeply. "But how do I get back through the grill?"
"Easy enough." The Administrator blew a cloud of smoke, disappearing into the storm in a haze of tobacco. "Just open your eyes."
So, she did.
Author's Note
Meh, not my best. But as long as it keeps the plot moving. At least they've got the Medic back, right? Still down three people, though…
Probably not going to finish this in time for Halloween. Not gonna lie. But hey, did you guys see a preview for this year's map? Hot diggity.
That's all I've got. Please let me know how you're feeling, what mistakes I've made, etc. Your reviews are like scrumpy to me.