Chapter Five

. . .

"Scout!" Sniper froze at the scene playing out before him as his leather boots rooted themselves to the ground. Scout was suspended by his throat as his legs dangled limply a foot from the floor. Blood was pooling beneath him from a deep gash in his stomach and his head hung backwards, his eyes flickering unconsciously. The figure that held him wore a rag covering the lower half of their face, but their steely eyes turned to bore into Snipers. For a split second Sniper was sure he recognised those eyes.

Snapping back to reality with the snarl of a wild animal, Sniper unsheathed his kukri and charged forward. Scouts attacker threw him aside like one would a soiled towel before hopping back out of harm's way. The swinging knife just barely missed his throat but sliced off the chain that hung there. Sniper went at him again in a venomous but controlled rage, his movements predatory. Although the Australian was known for having an awkwardly clumsy manner off the field, when threatened he became unpredictably graceful – like a cobra. Sniper made to slice for his gut but the masked man quickly side stepped him and grabbed his shoulders, viciously head butting him with a sickening crack as his nose broke.

"Gah!" stumbling back and grasping at his face, Sniper dropped his kukri and hissed through the blood leaking over his lips. With his new target disorientated, the masked man ran forward and kicked him hard enough to floor him - next to Scouts gun. The man lunged in for the kill.

Bang bang bang!

The masked man stared down the smoking barrel of the pistol as it lowered. All three bullets had hit him in the chest, but rather than fall to his knees to clutch his wounds the masked man merely began to stride forward. He reached out his bloody hand to seize Sniper.

"Hey-" Scout's weak murmur called meekly out from behind them. The man's head jerked in Scouts direction as his eyes seemed to dilate – his hunger for blood clear. Using the distraction, Sniper raised the pistol again and twisted the barrel forward.

Bang!

He shot the attacker right in the face, blowing him back.

"Wanka!" The man fell to the floor in a heap, twitching as if being electrocuted before falling suddenly still. Sniper struggled to his feet and made his way to Scout on long, shaky legs. The lad was barely breathing and losing blood fast as a sickening rattle quivered in his throat. A rustling noise caught his attention and he turned wide-eyed to see that the now faceless man was on his feet once more. Sniper braced himself over Scout like a protective barrier, ready to shield him from the incoming danger.

Then, the masked man turned on his heel and fled the room. A brief moment of silence followed before the sound of fancy shoes racing towards the room echoed down the hallway. Sniper turned to look down at Scout. His face was already chalk-white.

"Medic!"

. . .

"Scout vill be fine. Now hold still dummkopf." Sniper was still clutching the chain the assailant had lost during their scuffle as Medic checked his broken nose. Spy, who had been the one to arrive after hearing the gun shots, was peering over Medics shoulder at Scout with a stern look.

"Ow!" Sniper swatted Medics hands away, grimacing.

"Sorry," then why was he smiling? "Now, I need to go and speak vith Engineer. I don't vant either of you pestering zhe boy – he needs to rest." They nodded but several minutes after the doctor had left the room, his teammates still remained. Spy couldn't tear his eyes from Scout, who lay unmoving in his bed. It was a rare thing – to see him so still.

The young man was stubborn as he lay with an unconsciously pissed off frown creasing his features. His slow breathing moved his chest up and down but was so faint that he made no noise. His brown hair was sticking out in all directions as if he'd just stuck his finger in a plug socket, like the disgruntled child his much older teammates often found themselves believing he still was. Spy didn't even realise he'd placed a hand on the boys cheek until his colleague spoke.

"Spook," Sniper scratched his neck. "'bout the guy who did this..."

"Yes?"

"Well he … he wos wearin' these." he handed Spy the long chain. At the end of it dangled two familiar tags. "Weren't they yer step-sons?"

. . .

Boston, 1974

"Ma!" Scout bounded into his mother's living room, finishing his 'Bonk!' drink and crushing it in one hand, not daring to discard it on the floor. She was very strict about her house, his ma was. "Ma, ya home!?"

"In here!" he followed her voice into the kitchen where she sat with a glass of red wine. Her hair and makeup where done up real nice and the sweet smell of her sickly perfume lingered around the room like a pink cloud. "You're early, hon." She smiled at him, almost sheepishly.

"Yeah, yeah, Ronnie and Mac – whose back in town by da way – dey broke down on Carlton street 'cause Steve's a moron an' Shana got stuck in work 'cause Janey called in sick - so I thought I'd come see ho-" a rustling noise from the next room interrupted him. "Uhh, ya got company?"

"Well, yeah actually." She grinned a little. "Your old ma here's got a man."

"A boyfriend? Aw jeez, ma!"

"Don'cha 'jeez ma' me, young man! He's lovely – a real gentleman he is, not a useless ol' drunk like yer dad. You could probably learn a thing of two from him."

"Ooh yeah, sure! What, he like some sorta fancy schmancy Frenchie or somthin'!?"

"...yes, actually."

"Yea, ye- eh ... what?"

"He is French."

"He's French?"

"Yes."

"Like, from France?"

"Yeah."

"Bonjour." A smooth male voice purred from behind him and the sound of a lighter sparking up a cigarette was followed by the smell of minty, familiar smoke.

"You gotta be kiddin' me." Scout turned to stare at the man, still clad in his red balaclava.

"Nate, I'd like you to meet ma boyfriend." They stared at one another, Scout's jaw audibly dropping. "His name-" before his ma could finish, he'd already ran forward and tackled Spy to the floor.

. . .

Engineer rapped a gloved hand on the door to Medics hotel room sharply before peering inside. "Ya wanted to see me, Doc?"

"Ja," Medic motioned for him to enter as he sat on the bed, holding a brown box on his lap. Beside him was a tray of instruments, still bloody from when he'd cleaned out and stitched up Scouts stomach. "Close zhe door, bitte."

"So Scout's gonna be alright?" he moved to peer out the grubby window.

"Zhe vound on his stomach vasn't deep enough to cause any severe damage, but he vill need to take care not to open his stitches," Medic waved his hand in annoyance "But I didn't call you here to discuss zhat." The Texan hadn't expected he had.

"Pyro?"

"Ja." Medic nodded stiffly before sighing and running a hand through his grey hair. "Have a seat."

"Jus' tell me straight." Engie sat and swivelled his chair to face him. "What killed 'im?"

"It's … not as simple as zhat."

"… Oh?"

"Pyro vas … vell, he vas not actually killed per se. Strictly speaking, he couldn't be."

"What in God's name are ya tryna say?"

"Engie," Medic licked his dry lips, not really knowing how to explain. "Zhe Pyro vas a robot." Silence followed Medics words as Engie sat with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Or, more specifically … he vas mostly robot. He had blood, he had a heart - he even had a brain but zhey veren't … his. He vas powered by some sort of, eh, device zhat vas, vell, inside him," He scratched his hair some more, causing it to point up. He wasn't sure if he'd even made any sense in English but passed Engie the brown box he'd been holding anyway "I believe zhat only you can figure out exactly vhat it is." Engie stared at the box as if he'd never seen one with six sides, dreading what lay inside.

"You're tryna tell me that the man I sat up with all'a those nights … the man I trusted an' fought alongside all that time … that our Pyro was a machine?" Medic leaned forward and tapped the box.

"You tell me."

"S'impossible." The Tex shook his head. "S'jus' not possible!" He stood with a look of disgust, appearing almost as if he were about to hurl the box across the room.

"Isn't it?" Medic stared at the gloved arm wrapped around the box with coy interest. "He vouldn't be zhe only one on zhe team to have improved himself… vould he?" Engineer looked at the box, then to Medic and then to his own arm. No, he wouldn't.

. . .

"Engie-!" Sniper took long, quick strides after his friend as he stormed out of the deserted hotel car park. Engie had shouldered him on his rush out of Medics room pretty hard but hadn't stopped to apologise. "Slow down! Whot's happened? Is Scout-"

"Scout's fine."

"Then whot?"

"Doc. He says ... he says that Pyro wasn't human."

"Doc's a crazy bastard, mate."

"Listen. He says Pyro was a damn robot." Something in those worried old eyes told Sniper that he was being completely serious. "A goddamn machine – the whole darn time!" he punched the side of his rental van, a large dent instantly fixating itself where his fist had kissed it.

"Wos ... is he sure?" Engie ignored him for a few moments, pacing around and swearing under his breath. His arm hurt, his back hurt, hell his damn ass hurt from all the sitting around worrying about Scout he'd done. He exhaled deeply and dug the heels of his hands into his bleary eyes.

"I jus' don't know anymore."

He recalled a time when Pyro had come to visit him in his RED workshop. Nobody else ever bothered him when he was down there – it was Engies space – nobody had any business down there but him. Occasionally, however, Pyro would wander down. Not to talk, just to watch his somewhat neurotic work-mate do what he did best – solve problems.

"Mmph mphrma prrh mow?" Pyro appeared by the bench in a manner that Spy would commend, causing Engie to jump.

"Oh! Y'all give me the heebie jeebies son" he chuckled. "Jus' whippin' up somethin' for the vents, they're rattlin' again."

"Mrrmph murph?" Pyro cocked his head to the side, a gloved hand resting on his hip.

"Sure, jus' hand me that wrench there." He passed the tool before slumping down into a nearby chair. "Thanks." For a few moments nobody spoke as Engie worked and Pyro played with his favorite lighter, flicking it on and off, open and closed. Engie was sure that if his friend didn't have that mask on, he'd be staring at the lighter with the same admiration that teen-boys do to beautiful women.

"Dmph mrphum phr..." Pyro seemed to have a calming effect on him, both on and off of work hours. He always had engies back while up against BLU, but even now in the workshop his silent eyes were a comfort, not a distraction. He trusted the masked man with his back the same way he trusted his own sentries. On occasions when Engineer overworked himself and became too tired, Pyro would even bring him coffee or a cold beer. His sentries certainly didn't do that, not yet anyway.

"Mprrh mmph muruph." He patted his friends shoulder.

"Thanks, pardner." The team had taken to calling Pyro an "it" or even a "thing" but his amiable Texan friend knew him well enough by now. It was when they were alone like this Engie really felt he saw the man behind the flamethrower. He wasn't a 'thing.'

"How?" Engie held his arms out, pleading with Sniper. "How can a man look so real … when he ain't even a man?" anger replaced confusion and he went to strike the rental van again – but caught himself. Sniper stood, his hands shoved into his pockets and a look of grim concern on his face. As he watched his friend, his mind wandered back to the attack in Scouts room. Then, like a jigsaw puzzle, Sniper found the missing piece he'd been sensing.

The figure that held him wore a rag covering the lower half of their face, but their steely eyes turned to bore into Snipers. For a split second Sniper was sure he recognised those eyes.

"Jesus," Sniper was sure he recognised those eyes. "Scout..."

"What?" Engie glanced around.

"The guy who attacked Scout. He wos masked an' that but, somethin' 'bout him wos familiar somehow. After he ran off I found the BLU Scouts dog tags." He scratched his chin. "Gave them to Spy."

"Uh huh?"

"Call me crazy but, I think the guy who attacked our Scout ..… wos the BLU Scout."

"I'll call ya crazy Stretch, but that don't mean ya ain't right." Engie pulled his belt up a little and frowned as Sniper rubbed his face.

"Piss."

"I have a feelin' that whoever's behind all'a this – whoever tried t'kill the BLU Spy an' our boy Scout – they ain't usin' hired mercs."

"No?"

"Nah. I have a feelin' they're usin' Robots," his face darkened. "Robots that actually look like real people."

"Is that ... even possible?"

"One way ta find out. You comin'?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Before they made to hit the road again, Engie tried to call home to Arleen but got no answer. He missed her terribly and ached for his wives touch desperately but what he'd learned now was too much to ignore. What he'd give to be with her now, though. There was only one place he could think of that could reap any answers for them – the BLU Spy's barn.

"C'mon, Doc, you're with us." Engie and Medic climbed into Snipers van after loading their weapons into the back. The Medic seemed to age about ten years after their visit to his room and he made no attempt to hide his displeasure.

"If your theory turns out to be correct," Medic sighed as they pulled onto the road "I'm returning to Germany tomorrow."

"Heh. Don't think that'll change much, Doc." Engineer pated his shoulder and chuckled before glancing out onto the road, the lines in the centre turning into a long, white blur as speed picked up.

"Why're we goin' back to the barn?" Sniper gripped the wheel of his van, his voice flat.

"Scout mentioned somthin' bout 'complex-lookin'-Engie-crap' bein' scribbled on a number of plans there. I didn't think much of it at the time, but it's all we have concernin' any'a this now."

"I could get an early flight…" Medic continued.

"Why would someone else be buildin' Robots t'kill us when we already bloody beat that Grey wanka? Heavy crushed 'im with his bare hands – we all saw him doin' it!"

"Someone other than Grey, then?" Engie shrugged. "Won't know 'till we get there I s'pose."

"Hopefully zhe birds are still alive…" the doctor mused.

"Honestly, if I knew this job was gonna get so many crazy ol' men wantin' me dead I'd have jus' stuck ta trackin'!"

"Heh," Engie leaned out of the window to feel the speeding wind in his face. "There's still time."

The drive to the barn was quiet as an atmosphere of lingering unease filled the van like a thick fog. Medic sat picking his nails next to Sniper, who was gripping the wheel so hard that his knuckles were bone white. The three REDs contemplated that they were currently on someone's hit list – not the most trouble they'd ever gotten themselves into admittedly, but unpleasant news all the same. It eventually began to rain shortly before they arrived, though the air was still warm. The humidity quickly steamed up the interior of van, but the downpour outside became too heavy to roll down the windows. Sniper proceeded to sigh emphatically to let Engie know how unhappy he was with the situation, but the Tex seemed lost in thought.

Upon arrival and inside the barn once again, the three damp men instantly noticed that it was different somehow. It felt more spacious, cleaner even.

"Engie," Snipers voice called out from a corner of the giant room. "The Spy's body's gone."

"S'not the only thing m'afraid" Engie sighed, running a hand over his head. "So're all the plans Scout mentioned." Every table that had previously been covered in old notes and scrapped plans was bare. Even the floor that had been hidden beneath a carpet of old paper was now visible. Sniper whistled at the emptiness before them as cockroaches and flies quietly scuttled and buzzed about.

"Ve are too late?" Medic folded his arms, seeming more annoyed than worried.

"Crikey, someone really cleared this place out, eh?" Engineer scanned the space before him before walking up to check an empty cabinet. The last time he'd been here he'd spotted a familiar box kicked beneath it, but it was a tight squeeze.

"Help me out here," he and Sniper moved the steel cabinet back (damn he felt old as his back cracked with the effort) revealing a small red toolbox.

"Vhat is zhat?"

"Plans … they used to be mine, but I left them back at the RED base when we left." He opened the lid and scanned the contents fondly, not needing to read them because he had memorised every last detail. He picked up some blue prints and held them up as if viewing an expensive painting.

"Whot are they?"

"I used them" he removed his glove "to make this."

"Jesus, Engie!" Sniper backed away from his friend in repugnance. "D'ya cut off yer own bloody arm for ya loonball!" The robotic arm that sat in place of his own was both hideously impressive and beautifully alien. The hard fingers were longer and thinner than they should have been, stuck together by bulky black bolts and infused with yellow and red wires. The tips pointed and the outer steel had a shiny, black gleam. Thick red attachments clamped it onto the Engineers stump and the puckered up flesh around the rim suggested that it was not simply attached but burned on.

"Ain't she beautiful? I call her the gunslinger," he smiled at his arm, pride shining in his eyes. "Arm still tingles now an' again though, but she's worth it. Pyro helped me fix her on one night in the workshop."

"Yer mad!"

"Am I?" Engie looked at Sniper now with an expression he'd never used with him before.

"And zhat?" Medic indicated the box still by Engies feet with a lazy wave of his arm, apparently unfazed. At the top of the paper pile lay what looked like a black and white photograph.

"Now this I haven't seen before." He examined it. "S'the BLUs." It appeared to be a team photo taken some years ago, perhaps just shortly before they disbanded. In the centre was the BLU Heavy, a massive smile on his face as he wrapped his bear-like arms around the shoulders of both the Sniper and the Demo. Demo's hat was gone to show an afro and he had his arm around Soldier, who in turn was making a 'v' sign behind Pyro. The Spy had a soft smile and was unmaksed – very handsome in his prime – as he stood beside Sniper and Medic. Crouching in front of Heavy in the middle was their Scout and Engie. They were all smiling and on the bottom left corner 'All the crew - C' was scribbled down in enthusiastic script. Every man's face, bar the Spy's, had been scored out.

"Zhe Spy must have been scoring off his team as zhey disappeared..."

"See that?" Sniper pointed to the bottom of the photo. "Who's 'C'?"

"All'a these plans are signed by this 'C' …. Don't ring no bells." Engie continued to look through the contents of the box as Sniper and Medic looked at the photo. It put a disturbingly humane image of their old rivals into perspective.

Engie remembered coming across those plans for the first time almost nine years ago. The schematics for the gunslinger had instantly appealed to him – he'd actually considered cutting off both of his arms at first but after infection had set in and caused him to seek out Medic (who was fortunately even madder than he was) he decided one was enough. The gunslinger was beautiful because she wasn't just a robotic hand – she was his hand, only better. She was actually attached to his nervous system so she was not remotely controlled. She was a part of him.

"...wait-" She was a part of him. Would that make Engie part robot, he wondered? "Good lord."

"Whot?" "Vhat?" his comrades turned to him as he stared at the plans in his hand - plans detailing a new gunslinger – one that looked like a flesh, human arm. He'd never considered more than just one gunslinger per arm, but with his know-how he could certainly make leg equivalents and more if he wanted.

"I don't think that whoever's behind this has been makin' robots that look like people…"

Robotic arms, legs ... insides? All controlled by a human nervous system. Only then, as he held those dusty schematics in his gunslinger, did the former RED Engineer manage to deduce what the BLU Spy had been saying.

"The prototypes ... 'ave been destroyed." He'd said. "You are all marked for death now. I … I tried so..."

"-so hard to save them..." he finished for the late Spy.

"Zhe Pyro vas a robot." Medic had discovered. "Or, more specifically … he vas mostly a robot. He had blood, he had a heart - he even had a brain but zhey veren't … his. He vas powered by some sort of, eh, device zhat vas, vell, inside him."

"There's been an accident ... Pyro's dead."

"The prototypes ... 'ave been destroyed." He'd said. "You are all marked for death now."

"Damn..."

"Engie?"

"Fellas," he turned, ashen faced, to his two teammates. "Pyro was the prototype. Whoever's behind all'a this ... has been makin' people into robots."

. . .

You guys are awesome, thanks again for all the great support you're all giving me! Hope this chapter didn't seem too sloppily done, I've had allot on my plate recently so kinda fearing that I'm not writing as well as I could be. Hope you enjoy it regardless! - Des