Decided to bump this fic up to 8 chapters, or this one would have been huge, and I thought I'd make up for not updating in a while. Sorry for the wait! Also, if you have any questions about this series, feel free to visit me at . !
Scout urgently gestured for the rest of the group to duck down when they approached. They did not object, likely having seen the large group of armed men amassed below.
"Freakin' BLU are down there!" Scout hissed, rolling onto his front to peer over the edge of the overhang. "Jeez, I thought they'd be like us and go against her! Or somethin'!" Finding himself immediately being dragged backwards by his ankle, he looked around at Heavy in affront. "Hey!"
"Their Sniper has rifle. Do not let him see you."
"Oh, yeah! 'Cause you guys didn't think to bring anything more than a couple'a shotguns! What the hell are we gonna do, now?"
"Quiet," Heavy growled, covering Scout's mouth with his giant palm. The boy just rolled away and continued spying on the danger ahead, wishing more than anything that the people who had kidnapped them had at least brought their stuff, too. As far as he knew, Sniper's rifle was still sat in an abandoned bag of luggage in some Japanese hotel room, along with the assassin's prized hat and sunglasses. And Scout's camera, which contained all the pictures he had taken before everything had all gone to shit.
Growing increasingly upset, Scout watched with a grimace as the BLU team entered the rounded, metal door that served as one of his next obstructions. Once they were all inside, it slammed shut and locked itself with a loud beeping sound.
"Okay, change of plan," Miss Pauling whispered. "Scout, you can't go down there to distract them without getting shot on sight. Spy, have you got your sapper in your pocket?"
"No, I was just pleased to see you," the Frenchman replied dryly, gesturing to one his jacket pockets as if to confirm that he did indeed possess the device necessary to sap the robots. "However, sapping one would alert all of them."
"Right. Sap the one furthest from the door and draw their attention, just cloak before they land a shot on you, okay? Do you think you can figure out a way into the base?"
Spy rolled his eyes. "I could figure my way into any government building, Miss Pauling."
"Uh, right. As for the rest of us, we'll have to take care of the robots before they sound an alarm. Can we do that, guys?"
The men looked at each other doubtfully. Without their weapons or Medic to shield them, many of them would undoubtedly be turning up at the nearest respawn point. With any luck, the base before them would contain some kind of respawn, but how could they risk it? If any of them died, there was every chance they'd end up in the nearest base in Kong King, and then they'd be stuck.
Heavy grunted, then said without a trace of fear, "All stand behind me. I will be meatshield."
"Well, you won't be much use to us after that, mister."
It was Engineer's voice. At first, nobody reacted, until one by one, they all began to remember that Engineer wasn't one of them and was still working for the Administrator. Yet, there he was, stepping out from the trees and moving his goggles up to his forehead. Scout stared in disbelief, resisting the sudden urge to jump to his feet and pummel the Texan with his gun. Any kind of brawl could grab the attention of the robots down below. Regardless, he crawled back until he was a safe distance away from the ledge, then stood and squared himself up before Engineer (who was, fortunately, one of the few men on the planet actually shorter than himself).
"The fuck are you doin' here, pal?"
"Ah, just makin' a dramatic entrance. Always wanted to do that, y'know. Anyways, I saw you guys makin your way up here, 'cause apparently y'all didn't think there might be some cameras trained just about everywhere."
Not taking his gaze off the other man for even a second, Scout backed down a little and held up his gun threateningly. Engineer could be a difficult guy to read – usually because his dark goggles gave him that creepy, dead-eyed stare that nobody really wanted to see when they went to get breakfast in the mornings. Now, however, his big, blue eyes seemed sincerely apologetic, and he held a wrench protectively up to his chest, turning it this way and that as if preparing himself for a good telling off. The accusing stares he received from everybody present were enough to make him swiftly relent.
"All right, I geddit! You're mad! Y'all got told what happened and then you just vanished into thin air. Well, me and Medic got dragged over here to work on the Administrator's project. I couldn't just say no, my Pa and his Pa before him did work for Helen's family. An Engineer just builds stuff, he don't worry about what that stuff might be used for!"
"And yet, here you are, failing to turn us in," Spy countered, "and looking remarkably like a dog that has just defecated in its master's shoes."
Engineer's face fell. He looked downwards and scuffed his feet, thoroughly abashed.
"I didn't realise the true extent of what she was plannin'. At first, I was consumed by lust. A lust to build this amazin' machine that could take the consciousness of a real person and spit it out someplace else. It's like the Machina, but bigger, better, but then she used the prototype on Mr Boomerang and it was like … I dunno, all the life got sucked from his eyes. I never believed in souls, but … I started to think that maybe the thing we were buildin' was really gonna drain all the soul from these people she has lined up to take part. After what she did to him, I knew she wasn't gonna let me leave without makin' me regret it."
"Hold the phone," Scout managed, shaking his head disbelief. "She sucked out Sniper's soul? That ain't even possible!"
"In a sense, though he was arguably already kinda soulless, am I right? I mean … nah, that prototype was defunct, it didn't work properly -"
"Dude!" the boy snapped, throwing down his gun. He lunged forwards and seized Engineer by the front of his dungarees. "I got forced into that guy's head. It was crumbling like a freakin' fruitcake, man! If some dumb prototype can do that, then what the hell is this giant thing gonna do if it goes wrong? Huh?! In case ya forgot, you're one of the guys lined up to get your goddamn mind sucked outta your good-for-nothin' tiny head! What the hell were ya thinkin', goin' against us like that?"
"Was just doin' my job, fella, and I ain't got a way out." Engineer tugged Scout's hands away and peered around him to look at the rest of the group. "Where is he, anyhow?"
Ignoring the fact the guy was clearly uncomfortable with his proximity, the boy once again grabbed the front of his dungarees and pulled him forwards, egged on by his question.
"We need Medibeam. Like, now. How did ya get out here so fast, huh? Is there Medibeam in that super secret evil lair you got there? Or do I gotta break in there and find out for myself?"
Scout found himself suddenly airborn as he was lifted by the back his shirt and plopped back down a small distance away. He took a wild swing at the offender, which again was Heavy, and was countered by a meaty palm that was hard enough to send tremors all up his arm when he impacted it. The intervention was enough to let him know that he had to chill out, but at the same time, he had no idea why everybody else was so calm.
His one comfort was that Engineer had helped build the Machina which had saved his life, once. And it wasn't entirely the Texan's fault that the machines were being being used for evil. Still, Scout felt incredibly frustrated and uneasy with everything that was going on and Engineer was the closest person he could throw blame at.
Abruptly turning away, he met Spy's eyes.
A team is what we are. A team is all we have.
Taking a deep breath, he turned back around, fists clenched, and approached Engineer with a solemn expression.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I just … We need ya to help us."
Engie seemed to relax somewhat, lowering the wrench still held up to his chest.
"Yeah. Never been happier to see you guys walkin' up this hill. I've got a teleporter hidden a small distance away." The man turned slightly to appraise the small group present. "Look, it's worse than it seems. She's got BLU on her side, and about sixty robots I built from the pieces left after the Grey Mann war. There's Contenders in there. Worst of all, not only is Baldr near indestructible, it's surrounded by some gosh-darned dragon!"
"Uh, Baldr?"
"The machine. What with the dragon and Merasmus' magic … the thing's gonna be near impossible to destroy when it's turned on."
"That's what she said," Soldier interjected, then quickly covered his mouth with his hand.
Scout knew what Engineer was trying to say. There was seven of them – eight if counting Engie – and they were severely outnumbered. The thing they needed to destroy was near indestructable. They had next to no weapons.
Their mission was impossible.
That wasn't all he was worried about, however.
"We need Medibeam," Scout said again. "Look, plannin' can come later! Bring us some'a the good stuff and we'll know we can trust ya. How does that sound?"
Engineer tensed up again. "Partner, I wish I could, but Medic's got it under lock and key. The Administrator told him you'd be after it. If ya want it, you're gonna have to convince him. Or kill him. I guess the latter would be easier."
A wave of a sudden and uncomfortable tension washed over the group at that. Nobody needed to look at Heavy to see that he was enraged by the idea. Though it was an immense anger manifested only by a slight throbbing of his temple, anybody who knew him was wise enough to quickly shut up and go hide somewhere whenever they noticed it.
"No," the Russian breathed, staring at Engineer cooly. "Doctor will see sense." The large man finally turned away from the poor Texan to regard Miss Pauling instead, his arms folding defensively across his chest. "Respawn is frail in new bases. None of us will die. You, me, and the boy will find him. Soldier, Demoman, Pyro – you slaughter tiny men who get in way. Spy, destroy machine. Question?"
Nobody dared answer. Besides the man's obvious rage, his swiftly thought out plan was all they had going for them, and there was no time to try and come up with something better. All they could do was storm inside and hope for the best.
"I've got a teleporter hidden just in the trees. Thought it might come in useful at some point," Engineer offered, anxiously beckoning for the group to follow him. "It goes into the spawn room. None of them metal men go in there, and the Contender fellas ain't hooked up to respawn yet. Y'all could pick up a weapon or two."
Scout moved forwards with trepidation. He was questioning whether he was still hooked up to respawn. Technically, anybody who was no longer contracted to work for the Administrator was removed from the system, but if he was to believe everything he had been told, she wanted him back and she wanted him alive. Regardless, he knew it would be stupid to go in there and be reckless. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Sniper and his Ma alone. All the more, he didn't feel ready to literally wrestle with death all over again.
He wasn't ready for any of this, really, but what choice did he have? The team needed him, and he wasn't gonna wuss out when a ton of people were depending on them.
The entire world, in fact. As if he didn't have enough to worry about.
The base was impossibly huge.
The inside of the mountain had been hollowed out, and the floor stretched several miles across. The ceiling was non-existent, sloping upwards into total darkness. The walls were coated with thick, metal plates, and supported by humungous iron pillars. Regardless, the structure seemed the total opposite of steady, as every now and then, the walls would shake and stones would come crumbling down from the blackness above. Across the spherical curve of the mountain's inner walls, small, white lights lit the way, casting the place into a lugubrious dimness.
On the eastern wall, there was a large screen that boasted the words:
UTTER QUIET NEEDED
DO NOT WAKE DRAGON
DAYS WITHOUT DRAGON INCIDENT: 1
Scout glanced over the edge of the balcony the team was now occupying. There were rows and rows of balconies and stairs reaching as high up as the eye could see. He was rather more focused on what was below them, however.
The creature had to be a mile long. At first, Scout thought it was some kind of statue until he realised the thing was breathing. It was shaped like a monstrous snake and its scales looked like they were formed out of actual jade, glittering in the synthetic light of the base. From where he was stood, he could see the lion-like head and what looked like pieces of rain cloud emitting from the dragon's nostrils.
It was coiled around some sort perfectly spherical structure, a machine of some sort. No, it was chained around it – and every so often, a green and white energy would pulse from between the metal panels the machine was composed of, lighting the dimness of the base further for a few seconds at a time. Every time it happened, rods connecting the machine to the walls of the mountain also throbbed with this odd energy.
"Baldr is powered by the dragon and its mountain," Engineer explained in a whisper. "Old places like this, they got some kinda magic in 'em. I realised that we can tap into that stuff instead of spendin' millions on electricity." Peering over the edge of the railing, he gazed down at the sleeping dragon somewhat forlornly. "That thing … it can see right into ya. Like it knows everythin'. By the hammer of baby Jesus, don't wake that darned snake."
"Oy, this ain't gonna end well," Demoman muttered nervously. He reached out to grab Pyro, who was jittering with excitement to such an extent that they were growing dangerously close to falling off the edge of the platform.
Scout, growing impatient enough that his sense of wonder swiftly diminished, moved away from the edge and towards the stairs leading to the floor below.
"Which way is Medic?" he asked with a harsh edge to his voice. "And who the heck is guarding this place? It's a freakin' ghost town!"
"It was Mexican Monday yesterday," Engineer corrected. "Not sure how long we've got, fellas. Medic is the next floor down. Keep goin' and you'll come across his lab."
"You stay here," Heavy boomed, barely managing to be discreet. "Build nest. Demo, Soldier, Pyro, you guard it. We continue as planned."
With a swallow, Scout raised his gun protectively to his chest and began moving down the stairs, trying to find a decent balance between silence and speed. He soon had to forsake the latter, given that he was travelling with Miss Pauling and Heavy – one of whom was in a skirt, and the other horribly slow at the best of times. Falling into a slow jog, Scout kept his eyes ahead, focused on reaching the ominous looking tunnel set several minutes away. Whenever his footsteps clanged dangerously on the metal platform below, he slowed down again and took the opportunity to wait for his teammates to catch up.
Fortunately, they reached the tunnel some time later without being seen. At the end of the narrow, rocky passageway was a thick door with 'RESEARCH FACILITY' printed in black letters on the front. Scout had doubted Engineer at first, but at the very least, he hadn't been lying about the location of Medic and his laboratory. Still, anything could have been waiting for them on the other side of that door.
He tried to pull the wretched thing open by grabbing the edge with his fingertips and placing his foot on the frame for leverage, but to no avail. It seemed the only way to gain access was the pinpad built clumsily within the rocky wall.
"Dammit, it could be anything!" Scout bleated frustratedly, jabbing his finger into the pinpad multiple times. Finding himself being violently pulled backwards by the back of his shirt, he yelped and barely managed to gain his balance when Heavy's huge figure placed itself in front of the pinpad. The Russian thoughtfully stroked his chin.
"Hm."
"Quit pushin' me around, man!"
"Quiet. Heavy knows password. Do you want to wake dragon?"
After another moment's thought, the older man pressed a massive finger into the pad and pressed it four times. The light flashing red above the door pinged as it turned green.
Gobsmacked, Scout's mouth fell open in disbelief. "What the hell was it?"
"Same as always," Heavy replied, something of a smug look crossing his features for a moment as he politely allowed Miss Pauling to enter the laboratory first. "1945. The year the war ended."
It seemed kind of obvious when put that way. Medic had always been verbal regarding the war and how badly it had affected his family. Scout had never been into all that history stuff, but he never talked about it, knowing that it wasn't just history for some of the guys he worked with.
Acknowledging Heavy's smarts with a curt nod, Scout darted into the laboratory and in front of Miss Pauling to protect her from any syringes that might have come flying their way at any moment. Surprisingly – despite Medic's obvious presence, given the enthusiastic humming – there was no retaliation for their trespassing. In fact, Medic didn't turn around at all and appeared engrossed in squashing metal parts into the open cadaver spread over his workspace.
Scout pinched his nose at the smell. Miss Pauling appeared disturbingly interested in what he was doing. Heavy appeared to be entirely used to walking in on the doctor's horrific experiments. Nobody was quick to volunteer the fact they were present, however, unsure as to how their former teammate was going to react.
"Yes!" Medic suddenly bellowed, raising bloodied hands in triumph. What exactly he had achieved, none of them could be sure. They weren't left guessing. Medic swung around and pointed excitedly at the decapitated corpse behind him – which now boasted a metal arm and several broken wires poking out of its open ribcage. "Look! He will be half man, half machine! I have created a cyborg!"
Scout, realising he was holding tightly onto Miss Pauling's arm, quickly released her and humoured Medic by nodding and clapping his hands, even if he could see that the supposed cyborg just looked an awful lot like, well … a hot, stinky mess.
"Oh, uh … hey, yeah! It kinda does look like a cyborg!" the younger man applauded, disconcerted by the fact the German doctor had known they were there the entire time. "Hey, ya know what's just as cool? Medibeam, pal. You got any lyin' around?"
Medic hooted musically with laughter before turning around to resume rearranging the clump of organs within the poor cadaver.
"Oh, yes, but she said that's what you would be after. Dear boy, you may believe you are running out of time, but really you are just on time. I need the Medibeam to keep you alive in case something goes wrong during the Repurposing, you see? It seems Heavy and Miss Pauling have seen sense, at least!"
"Wh- no. Nah, man! We're goin' against the Administrator! Sniper's dyin' 'cause of her, and I don't wanna get turned into some ..." Scout's eyes flitted down to the corpse, "... some cyborg. Look, ya've got no idea all the crap she's put us through. Give me one good reason you should carry on workin' for her!"
Medic paused for a moment, gently patting a wad of intestines back into place. "Mm. She is the only person alive who will fund my work. The Deus ex Machina never would have been created if not for her money. I do think your anger is misplaced, Scout, when she gave us the means to save your life!"
"So she could use me for her freaky experiments!" Scout snapped, struggling to keep his cool.
"Ah, details. I doubt you have even considered why she wants you in the first place. Your performance has seen marked improvements over the last couple of years. You were the top player for several months running! Now, that's quite a feat, don't you think?" With a light-hearted sigh, Medic pulled off his gloves and dusted off his hands before venturing to the seat at the nearby desk. He sat and watched the others, the cheery smile on his long face suggesting he truly had no qualms about his recent work. "As for some other members of our team, we have seen an unacceptable downward turn. Miss Pauling was the one who brought all this to the Administrator's attention in the first place."
Scout's jaw tensed. Glancing at the woman to his side, he noted her sudden look of dismay.
"Yeah, well, it don't matter. Past is in the past, an' all that," the young man retorted. "She was just doin' her job, like you, but then she saw past all the bullshit. Hey, you don't even care about the team's performance, you just wanna get your hands on our goddamn organs, man!"
Medic's smile broadened in grim amusement. "Well, something like that. You all have made remarkable patients."
About to retort, the Bostonian took one look at Heavy and saw that the Russian's patience was quickly wearing thin, if the hard whistling emitting from his flaring nostrils was anything to go by.
"Enough," the enormous man grunted, staring at his friend with all the icy coolness of the Siberian Wastes. "Do not be this man. Do not help the old woman. If you cannot see what she is becoming, I fear for you, doctor. You would let friend die because she ordered it? I hope you feel shame. Men like us will not suffer being ordered. Not after how hard we ran when we were boys. Remember, doctor."
Scout didn't entirely understand the exchange, but if Heavy was able to appeal to what was left of Medic's questionable morality, he sure as hell was going to shut up for the length of time it took. Indeed, it seemed to be working, for Medic's smile swiftly fell away as he considered what he was hearing. In Scout's comic books, shadows were always drawn over characters' faces whenever they were angry, or when they were tormented with memories of the past. He had never actually seen it on a real person's face until then. Medic's eyes seemed to darken with some shadow of years past and it was terrifying to behold.
"You seem to be implying something, mein freunde," he hissed, suddenly looking terribly like a wild cat getting ready to pounce.
Heavy remained calm, as always, even in the face of a very real danger.
"Yes. You knew it was crumbling -"
"What was?!"
"The team."
A drawn out silence followed. Even Medic didn't dare break the silence.
"I saw it. We all did, but Scout fought past it. He grew strong. He found friends in men who before only pushed him aside in return." Heavy dropped a solid hand on Scout's shoulder. "His strength will grow. For that, he will not die."
Not having expected the guy's actually kind words at all, the young runner briefly forgot the predicament at hand and relished the warm, fuzzy feeling that suddenly flooded his chest. It wasn't something that happened often, and receiving what sounded like a compliment from Heavy certainly wasn't something that happened often, either.
"Sniper made bad choices, trying to shield flame from rain," the Russian continued. "He is not shield. But failing has made him better man. For that, he will not die. None of us will. We grew tired at the end, argued, punched each other often, but what is it you say, doctor?"
Medic shrank back in his seat and awkwardly pushed his glasses up his nose. "Broken bones heal to be stronger."
"Ah, yes. Now, friend, I understand you; you want to join winning side. I know. But men cannot always be winning side. Mercenaries fight on losing team, too. We need our men. This idiot family will not crumble. Join us, doctor. Do what you could not do when you were tiny boy fleeing home."
The words were somehow heartwarming and chilling all at once. In the silence that followed, Scout rocked anxiously on his feet and looked between the three others occupying the small laboratory. Miss Pauling was stood in quiet repose, her eyes slightly red and moist, but he was gentlemanly enough not to point it out, somewhat disturbed by it. Heavy, meanwhile, was still staring intensely at Medic. The doctor was staring right back at him.
Eventually, Medic slowly stood and his forehead scrunched up like he was trying to find his words. Scout expected him to say something heartfelt in response to Heavy's powerful encouragement, and so took an eager step forwards when the German made to speak, fists balling in excitement.
"But ..." Medic whined, gesturing at the desecrated corpse nearby like a child would gesture at a toy they want. "My cyborg."
The other three simultaneously groaned, stopping in their track. Heavy, clearly exasperated, covered his face with a meaty hand.
"And Sniper? How long did it take ya to bring him back to life that time, huh?" Scout asked quickly, thinking it best to attempt a new approach. As expected, Medic's eyes lit up and he even did an odd, excited little dance for a moment, hands splayed on his chest.
"Twelve hours."
"Right! And all that hard work is about to be undone! So ..."
"Oh, all right! You have twisted my arm! I do hate to see such long hours go to waste," the doctor replied melodramatically. He took keys out of his coat pocket and unlocked a drawer on his side of the desk. Then, he very carefully produced a small, glass cylinder that was filled with beautiful, precious Medibeam, vibrant red in colour and swimming about like it was searching for a warm body to fill with its healing powers.
Heavy grunted irritably. "I could have smashed desk with fist."
"Now, now, my friend. You made your point, too," Medic purred, briskly moving around the desk in order to offer up the cylinder. "However, Sniper is evidence of my miraculous talent."
While the doctor was holding the cylinder, Archimedes fluttered from the top of a nearby cupboard to land on his shoulder. Evidently, he still hadn't gotten around to replacing the bird's missing leg given the pathetic stump that was in its place.
Scout avoided eye-contact with the damned creature, feeling somewhat unnerved by it but unable to put his finger on why. Hadn't somebody warned him about one-legged pigeons, once? Well, maybe he had just dreamt it.
Reaching out, he gingerly took the precious glass cylinder and held it to his chest, hoping his gratitude was properly conveyed by his expression. Medic could be a bit of a prankster when he felt like it, and he didn't want the guy to go back on his word and attempt to take the Medibeam back.
"I'm gonna – I'm gonna run back," he announced, looking between the other three. "I'll come back and help you guys, I just gotta do this, first. 'Kay?"
Nobody answered. Unnerved, Scout turned and made to run – and then he saw what they were looking at.
The door through which they had come in was now blocked off by a group of five men and women. They stemmed from all walks of life: some were short, some were tall, they were from different parts of the world, but they all shared in that same white lab coat, and that cold, blank stare typical of anyone in the medical profession. There was no question as to who these people were. They were the so-called Contenders that Sniper and Engineer had mentioned, and stood between them was the BLU Medic, bone-saw in hand.
There was nothing more horrifying than five doctors stood in a row and staring.
"Let him through," the RED Medic ordered, but there was something off about his voice, something sinister in the horribly sing-song way he spoke. That was the usual, but in this situation, it made Scout go on edge.
The boy slowly turned back to look at Heavy and Miss Pauling, wanting them to make the decision for him. Should he run through and risk betrayal, or should he trust Medic and make off with the Medibeam, regardless of the growing threats around them?
"Tick tock, Scout," Medic continued. "Any longer and you'll be too late. Our dear friend is set to expire at twelve, and it's now ..." Retrieving the fob watch attached to his waistcoat, he gave it a light shake and sighed. "Well, it seems my watch stopped. I wonder when that happened?"
"Scout," Miss Pauling said quickly as the tension in the air suddenly escalated. "Just run. We'll handle this. Right, Misha?"
Heavy made a low sound of acknowledgement in return, still glaring suspiciously at their Medic as the man smiled and waved farewell to Scout.
With a painful swallow, Scout tentatively moved forwards and tucked the cylinder into the back of his pants so that he could wield his gun with both hands. Taking aim, he pulled the hammer and held it up threateningly as he approached the group of Medics blocking his way. However, much to his surprise, none of them made any sort of move to stop him, and they even parted to let him through.
He jolted when the BLU Medic dropped a hand on his shoulder.
"What do you get when you take blue and red away from purple?" the older man hissed as Scout nervously back away towards the door.
"Uh, I don't … Ya get nothing?"
"No," BLU Medic replied, his face falling in what looked remarkably like fear. "You get … green."
He said nothing further. Confused, Scout gaped at him – then abruptly sped out of the laboratory's exit before any mercy being shown to him was rebuked. Though he didn't want to leave Heavy and Miss Pauling behind, the danger they had apparently been in seemed almost superficial at this point. Why hadn't Medic's associates attacked them? Were they going to now that Scout was out of the room?
He couldn't think like that. He was in a base, and running was his job, so he sure as hell was going to run. Exiting out into the massive main structure of the base, a heavy draft of wind blew up from between the metal platforms and girders beneath his feet. The blast of air was almost enough to send him flying. Glancing down, he saw that he was directly above the dragon's head, and the creature's heavy breathing was beginning to literally alter the weather in the place. A bunch of rain-clouds were forming high up into the formless nothingness over his head, billowing out of nowhere until cool droplets of rain began pattering down. Scout could scarcely believe his eyes.
His trek now made far more dangerous, given the wet metal he was running on, the boy focused on his balance whenever his trainers squeaked threateningly. He had fought battles in rain before, of course, but not when it was raining indoors and everything beneath his feet was a slippery disaster. Minutes later, another heavy gust of wind blasted loudly around the confinements of the circular walls of the base, knocking him off his feet entirely and flat onto his back.
It was only then he saw it. A blue dot dancing on the wall to his left. Snapping his head up, he saw the other team's Sniper balanced precariously on the railings of his platform a number of floors up.
Cold panic flooded his chest. Bounding up to his feet, he immediately set off into a sprint.
Don't fall over, don't slow down, don't stop shootin', don't give 'em any reason to stop talkin' to you -
No shots were fired at him. The blue dot followed him, but the assassin lingering above made no attempt on his life. Why?
Eventually reaching the respawn room, Scout stumbled across Engineer building a nest consisting of a dispenser and a sentry, the latter beeping threateningly as its gun turned from side to side to seek out enemies. The Sniper that had been tailing the boy had since vanished.
"Dude, somethin' weird's goin' on," he blurted out, pausing within the doorway to stare at the Texan with wide eyes. "Why aren't they tryin' to kill us? Are they on our side or what?"
Engineer rubbed his sweating forehead with his forearm and grumbled something under his breath.
"Stop trustin' people so easy, boy. Look where it's got you. We're at a stalemate 'cause nobody's been hooked up to this respawn system, like I said. Even I don't know where the control room is, so there's nothin' I can do about it. We gotta use the fact nobody wants to die to our advantage. Nobody wants to be the one to slip up and start some fatal war in this darned hovel. Got it? Now get goin', 'cause it ain't gonna last long."
"Hey, I'm goin', I'm goin'!"
Scout dived into the respawn room, grabbed a bow and quiver-full of arrows, and then jumped onto the teleporter. In a flash of glowing red particles, he was no longer in the middle of a cold, metallic spawn room, but back in the dreary forest outside of the mountains. It was properly daylight, now, and he could properly see where he was going. By finding the overhang overlooking the base entrance, he could then figure out the way to turn back and find the car they had parked in the middle of nowhere.
Out of breath and soaked to the skin, Scout shivered and struggled to press on, his throat constricting painfully. It seemed to take forever to find his way back, and there were moments he thought he was lost and that he was never going to get there on time. What the hell was he supposed to do if he was too late? No – he couldn't think about that, or he'd be too messed up to be able to focus.
A flash of red through the trees. Wearily pulling himself through the narrow spaces of the trunks that surrounded the clearing, he clapped eyes on the large SUV and leapt over the bonnet when a pulse of adrenaline suddenly coursed through him. One of the rear doors was now open and his team's weather-beaten Sniper was hanging halfway out of it, like he had woken up and panicked when he realised he was alone and attempted to search for his team mates. Or maybe he'd just had a bad dream, Scout told himself, suffering an intense bout of guilt.
He pulled the guy out of the car and onto the wet grass. The assassin was cold and his skin dry and pale. When Scout sharply tapped the side of his face, he got no response.
Shit.
"Okay," the boy whimpered, bringing his hands up to clench into his hair as the panic started. "Okay, don't do this to me, man, I'm here just on time, that's what Medic said. What, ya survived all crazy kinds of crap and now ya dead 'cause of some stupid disease? Give me a break!" As he babbled, he dropped an ear down to his friend's chest and determined that the worst, indeed, had come to pass.
His throat constricted so much that for a few terrifying seconds, he couldn't breathe. Regardless, he scrabbled helplessly at the body before him, shaking limbs and slapping him some more to try and urge some life into him.
"C'mon! C'mon, ya freakin' doofus!" Interlocking his fingers, Scout pressed his palm onto the Australian's chest and recalled something that he had learnt in the brief and poorly funded first aid course he had received after joining RED. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. He loved that stupid Beatles song. He knew all the lyrics off by heart, because he had listened to it every day for a year. He had fantasised about heroically saving somebody's life with it – because the beats to that song were nearly perfect for chest compressions, or so he had been told.
It didn't work. He pumped away for what felt like forever, receiving nothing in return save for the sound of bones breaking beneath his palm as his desperation reached perilous levels.
When his arms began to burn with strain, he was forced to stop. Grief hit him like a freight train. Screw it, there was no way abandonment was worse than this, there was no way -
His fists pummelled the grass hard enough to leave deep welts in the mud. He stood up and kicked the side of the car, gripping his head as he began to lose it. Then, in a last-ditch attempt to somehow resurrect the person he refused to believe was actually gone, he balled his two fists together and slammed them down on the assassin's chest, cursing him verbally as he did.
Nothing.
Exhausted, Scout released a pained moan and fell down onto his rear, curling into a foetal position and rocking slightly, trying to find some small comfort in the warmth it provided.
Death was just a joke. Wasn't it? It had been when it had persevered after him, anyway, but when it dared claim somebody else, when it dared claim them so quickly and without even giving him the chance to say goodbye, then no way was it just a joke. He wasn't laughing. He just felt physically sick, like he'd been punched in the stomach a thousand times. Like somebody was holding onto his heart and squeezing it as hard as they could.
Was this what grief was? It was like some unescapable chasm he had fallen into and it would never let him go, it would just trap him with memories and people that he didn't want to see because there would come a point he would just want to move on, but the shadows would pull him back and the chasm would just get bigger and bigger until it started crumbling and all the unresolved issues in there would start messing with the rest of him -
He didn't want to have to search for that one thing to hold onto. The one lotus floating in a pond.
His face hot and puffy, Scout wiped away the wetness on his cheeks with a muddy fist and unfurled himself with a sniff. Unsure what exactly he was doing, he crawled forwards and moved a hand under Sniper's head, gently lifting it so that he could bring it into his lap.
"Man, remember that first time we were in the Machina?" he asked in a shaky voice, staring blankly at the trees ahead. "Man, I was a fuckin' dick. I just made everythin' about me even though you were the one getting shanked and like, eaten by giant bugs. Yeah, that was real messed up. And – outside of there, too, before all that, I was a fuckin' dick. Truth is, I want people to like me so bad that I say stupid stuff 'cause I get all nervous and shit. I know ya knew it, maybe that's why you turned out to be the good kind of asshole, at least to me." His lip wobbled, and he restrained a hard sob. "Y'know why I want loadsa kids? 'Cause then ya've got people around ya forever. But maybe, like … maybe I won't, 'cause one day they'll feel like this, and humans feel stuff more than animals, we gotta lie there at night and think about it. It ain't right, man. This ain't right."
Over their heads, a steady roll of thunder groaned across the sky. The constant rain began to fall harder. Maybe the dragon chained inside the mountain was starting to wake up.
Despite the soft rustling of the trees and the rainfall, Scout heard light footsteps behind him. He didn't need to turn, because he knew the sound of that footfall, the sly and careful way the person approached from behind.
"Get lost," he sniffed. "I can hear ya. What, ya gonna stab me in the back and get it over with?"
"No," came the familiar drawl, not that of the RED Spy but of his adversary, the cunning BLU Spy. Scout could tell, because he had known the BLU's voice for longer. From the time he was a little kid. "It's quite touching, really, that I once walked in on an image much like this not so long ago, and now here I am again, only the two men involved have swapped positions. Apparently, the two of you were not meant to coexist easily, no matter how much you began to want it."
"Why the fuck are you always around?" Scout snapped in response. Gently lowering Sniper back to the ground, he stood and rounded on the suited Frenchman, who was smoking casually within the shadows of the trees. "Why you gotta be here right now? Who the hell invited ya? I sure as heck didn't, man! Ya know, not long ago I was feelin' good for the first time since you left. Yeah, that's right, I actually started feelin' kinda good 'bout myself, I didn't know all this shit was startin' to happen, I thought I was finally one of 'em and they didn't tell me anythin'." Realising this as he said it, his vision blurred with hot tears again. "Even Snipes didn't, but it's 'kay. I been inside his head and I realised he's as messed up as I am. Everyone's messed up, and they all do stupid shit, but when they do, they gotta have the balls to say why. He did, in the end." Scout furiously rubbed his eyes and met Spy's intense stare. "Will you?"
Spy's jaw tensed slightly. He folded his arms and plucked the cigarette from between his lips to exhale a steady stream of smoke.
"I can't."
"Why?" Scout asked, his voice strained. "I'm … I'm your -"
"Don't let emotion get the better of you, Scout. You'll regret what you say. All the more, you can't expect to understand everybody. That man -" Spy sneered, gesturing towards Sniper, "does not deserve your complete adoration. He was an assassin. For his own safety and that of his family, he was forced to refrain from making attachments until it became his nature. He failed at being discreet, became careless, and it saw his parents killed. Now, he lies here, stone cold himself. You can never expect a Sniper or a Spy to stay for long, Scout. They are men who must always leave in the end, or risk everything."
Scout slowly turned back to look down at the prone Australian. "If a dude risks everythin' for family, then he gets my complete adoration, as you put it. I don't care what ya say, ya stupid frog-faced backstabber. It ain't easy to change what you are for someone else. Hell, I know it better than anyone! But you gotta, sometimes, whether you're an assassin or not. You're the one who freakin' failed, Spy, and it ain't fair that you're the one that's still alive and kickin'."
Spy raised his hands as if he was relinquishing his stance. "Fine." Moving forwards, he cast a cynical gaze down at his former adversary's body. "I suppose things don't always turn out how we might expect. Strange things occur to set our paths off course. Things like -"
At a sudden crashing within the trees, both men span around, weapons aloft. Branches were snapping, trees were shaking, like something enormous was barging through the cold, dark forest. Too caught up in his loss to prepare himself properly for danger, Scout just leaned on the bonnet of the car and lowered his gun, forsaking his efforts.
The creature turned out to be the RED Pyro, who was wielding some sort of old, twisted stick like a madman and dashing about the clearing excitedly, disturbing the tension that had been rife in the air moments previously.
"Pyro, quit it!" Scout shouted, momentarily forgetting his innate fear of the mysterious arsonist. "We've lost Sniper, I was too late."
Pyro stopped running about and slowly moved towards their fallen comrade, head tilting curiously. They then held up a finger like they had just been hit with a bright idea. With a muffled and slightly evil sounding chuckle, Pyro pointed the wooden staff at Sniper – and shot a beam of lightning at him.
Scout recoiled as he was just about blinded by the flash of white, falling backwards onto the bonnet of the car. Finding himself on the ground seconds later, the boy looked fearfully around the mud-stained wheel and was stunned to see Sniper's hands violently twitching. Whether it was a result of the sudden attack of electricity or signs of actual life, Scout didn't pause to think. He seized the cylinder of Medibeam from his belt and quickly unscrewed the lid to place the open end on Sniper's leg.
The Medibeam eagerly flowed out of the tube and into the assassin's body. The twitching and spurts of static stopped. Sniper gasped for air.
Pyro raised the lightning rod over their head and held it in both hands triumphantly, releasing a loud bray of gleeful laughter.
"-that." Spy finished, the incredulous expression on his face swiftly replaced with one of casual acceptance. "Things like that." He lit another cigarette.
Scout could only watch in disbelief as his friend spluttered for air and then gradually stabilised, colour flooding the Australian's cheeks to give him his usual healthy, tanned appearance. The poor man seemed confused more than anything, holding onto his chest as if it was hurting him to breathe and raising his head to gain his bearings.
"Pyro?" Scout muttered, blindly reaching for the masked mercernary's arm. "Pyro, ya just … Where did ya get that thing?!"
A series of explanatory mumbles was his response. Pyro shrugged it off, then yelped as they were forced to dance in circles curtesy of the young Bostonian, who was now laughing at the top of his lungs. The boy became so excited that he stumbled and fell flat on his front, but it didn't deter him, taking the opportunity to drag himself over to Sniper and pull the stunned assassin into a strong hug.
"You're freakin' alive! Dude, am I dreamin' this? You were so dead, so fuckin' dead, then Pyro shot ya with some magic stick and now you're back. I can't believe it, man! Oh my freakin' god, I just saw some kinda miracle!"
Not caring that he was pretty much curled up on Sniper's lap like some little kid, he clung to the poor Australian like he was about to go flying off somewhere. His confused brain didn't know what to do except make him laugh and cry at the same time, rather embarrassingly, but he really had no capacity for anything other than sheer elation and a really, really confused kind of grief.
It wasn't often that people came back, after all.
"Dude," he gasped, grabbing Sniper's collar in order to shake some sentience into him. "You can hear me, right? Wake up proper!"
The Australian's somewhat unfocused eyes came to settle on Scout. They brightened as he managed a smile, apparently amused by the younger man's behaviour.
"Anyone could hear you from miles away," he replied hoarsely.
Scout's head fell into the crook of his friend's neck – partly out of the enormous relief surging through him, and partly to hide his tear-stained face. It didn't matter they both smelt like shit and were soaked with mud and rain. It was the best damn hug in the entire world (save for those he got from his Ma), because it felt real, the dude was warming up and he was actually doing that awkward pat-on-the-back business he usually resorted to whenever someone surprised him with an embrace.
Also as per the usual, Sniper quickly grew tired of the close contact. "All right, get off, ya wuss."
Scout pulled back and stared gratefully at his pal from the ground, biting his lower lip in a buck-toothed smile.
"Will one of you get this monster off of me?!" came the shrill demand of Spy. Nobody was quick to help him as Pyro toyed with him like a cat, prodding him with the mysterious rod he had found and threatening him with its power. Sniper, still clueless as to the situation, guffawed crudely at his rival's plight.
"Good job, Py, but we need him," Scout said cheerfully, standing up to place a hand on Pyro's shoulder. At any other time, he would be terrified by his masked team mate and his unknown capacity for evil, but the mumbling arsonist had just helped save their friend's life and Scout had never been more grateful in his entire existence.
With a noise of reluctance, Pyro ceased what they were doing and moved to stand between Sniper and Scout in a show of solidarity and protection.
"You show a remarkable reluctance to die, Sniper. How many times is this?" Spy snapped, dusting himself off and glaring at the three of them.
"Dunno, ain't countin'. And ya better believe it. I'm the bloody RED Sniper, mate, and I ain't goin' anywhere." The Australian proudly jabbed a thumb into his chest. "I don't have a clue what's goin' on right now, but I'd wager you're our best chance at getting into that base everyone keeps talkin' about. So look lively, about turn, and get that bony little arse of yours into the forest."
The Frenchman sneered slightly at being told what to do. Regardless, he was outnumbered and so had no choice but to obey. Scout knew there was a ton of questions he had to ask the guy, but he swiftly became distracted by Sniper's presence, becoming excited enough that he held onto the guy's arm as they began to walk and stared up at him in wonder. His joy apparently being infectious, Pyro did the same on the other side, and it was only thanks to the Australian's patience that neither of them were immediately shaken off.
The rain smelt good. So did the trees, the grass, and even the mud. Whereas before, everything had looked so horribly dreary and even creepy in this place, now it kind of looked pretty beautiful despite the fact nothing had really changed. But something had changed for Scout. Some time ago, he'd been given a second chance. Now, he had returned the favour and given somebody else that same gift, something he'd never thought himself truly capable of. Even in creepy, ugly places, they could be kind of beautiful because there was life there, and life, as fragile and scary as it was, was beautiful.
It was beautiful because at this point, Sniper was pretty much obliged to come to Scout's parties and get togethers. Even if he wore that hideous Hawaiian shirt he was wearing now, caked in mud and whatever else. They'd share beers again and eat a ton of cake and watch dumb shows on TV because that's what people did, and it felt good to be normal sometimes.
Hell, maybe the others would come, too.