Chapter Six

. . .

"I don't get it." Sniper looked dumbstruck as Medic wandered off to another part of the grubby barn, looking for anything of interest left to salvage.

"My gunslinger - she ain't controlled by anything outsida me, that is to say; she works exactly like my real arm had, except she's stronger - better."

"But ... she-uh, it's still a robotic hand an' not a real bloody one."

"Humph. Six years ago we were outnumbered by Gray's machines. Yet, we still won. Why d'you think that was?" Sniper thought about that for a moment before answering with absolute honesty.

"We got lucky."

"We got smart." Engie snapped. "We grew with experience and learned how ta adapt an' fight in ways best suited to robots rather than people. We were weaker, but they were at a disadvantage because they weren't human. They were programmed to fight a certain way - had no mind of their own –did as they were told while we had free range to reason and adjust. That's what makes us human. Y'know, my daddy always told me that the brain is the most complicated machine in the world an' I wholeheartedly believe he was right. If you combine our ability to think for ourselves with the steel endurance and sheer power of a robot," he brought up his gunslinger and balled its metallic fingers into a gleaming fist. "What d'ya get?"

Suddenly something rattled nearby, causing both men to go still. Medic was still at the other side of the barn, rummaging for anything he could find and oblivious to the noise. The scent of danger soon filled the air like a mist and both men found themselves on the battlefield once more. Their skin crawled with adrenaline; Engie had to suppress the urge to grin.

"A very big problem." Sniper finished as he turned.

The two men sprinted in separate directions as gunfire erupted from above. Sniper ducked to one side and into the shadows of an empty, overturned locker. Stepping out into view was the man Sniper recognised from Scouts hotel room. The right side of his face was covered with the same shabby cloth that once hid his nose and mouth. The new arrangement of the mask confirmed Snipers suspicions – it was the BLU Scout. He spotted Engineer, who hadn't managed to make it to cover and let loose hell in a flurry of fresh gunfire.

Crack – crack – crack!

"Gah."

Engie halted as he lost his own pistol, swearing as one of the bullets skimmed his arm. Weaponless and too far out to take cover, he held up his hands in surrender and warily turned to face his attacker. The Scout stared back at him with a blank expression before beginning to reload his weapon. Biting back a curse, Sniper snatched his own rifle from his back and took aim. Attracted by the gunfire like a shark to bloody water, Medic stepped out into view and cocked his own pistol in warning to the BLU.

"Don't even zhink about it."

It was unusual to see him with such a weapon as he'd always been partial to saws and his medi-gun, but his teammates knew damn well that he could hold his own in a gun fight, if said guns were small enough. The Germans sudden appearance caused the Scout to pause, registering the new threat. Something about the boys movements were twitchy and on edge.

Sniper used the distraction to creep out of his hiding place and close in on Scout with the silence of an experienced tracker. With a swift capture of his wrist followed by a sharp jab to the throat, the BLU Scout was skilfully disarmed. With impressive speed, even by his standards, Scout suddenly turned and kicked Sniper away as Engineer came rushing at him with his gunslinger looking for blood. Rather than leaping away however, the Scout lunged into Engies reach and caught the smaller mans arm under his own, twisting his fingers around the gunslinger to immobilise it. Just as Scout brought out a hidden blade and made to slam it into Engies chest, from the corner of his eye he saw Medic readying his pistol and Sniper bringing up his rifle. Both had their fingers on their triggers.

Holding Engineer up by his ensnared arm, Scout swung around and took cover behind his human shield with a dangerous glare – daring them to fire. Medic and Sniper froze.

"Shoot 'im, damnit!" Engie was shorter than Scout, but the lad was doing a helluva job remaining completely hidden behind him – even in Snipers all seeing scope. "Shoot 'im!"

"Ve can't!"

"Jus' do it!"

"Bloody-!"

"Do it now!"

A gunshot cracked loudly.

Crumpling sideways, half of Scouts skull shattered away to reveal blood smeared steel plates and sparking wires. He flopped gracelessly to the floor, releasing Engie from his grasp. A fourth figure appeared from the shadows – a smoking revolver in his hand.

"Spah!" The Frenchman walked up to the limp body of the Scout, still aiming his gun at him. The half of his face that wasn't destroyed looked so ... afraid. His remaining good eye blinked up at his step-father fearfully. He looked lost. The Spy took a deep breath but couldn't force himself to look away. The cloth had gone from Scouts face, revealing the gaping wound that Sniper had given him in the hotel room. But beneath the flesh was not bone – it was steel. He was tattooed in incision scars just like the BLU Spy had been beneath his balaclava.

"Are ya gonna be ok?" Engie asked his stunned friend.

Spy ran his fingers through his greying hair, his eyes never leaving the boy before him. "I will 'ave to be." Unconvinced, Engie continued to search his face, pity evident on his own. "... what did they do to 'im?"

"They killed him. This ... thing right here, it ain't your step-son so don't let the face fool you." Spy turned angry eyes towards him.

"I gave 'im this scar myself," he ran a finger over the small, permanent nick under Scouts right eye. "Tell me, what robot can be scarred, Toymaker?"

"One ... that used t'be human. But ain't anymore." Spy's eyes changed from demanding to pleading, though no request left his lips. He knew the answer. "He can be allowed to rest now. I'll take a look at these plans and find out how to deactivate 'im; normal weapons won't shut 'im down." He and Medic made to look through the scribbled plans while Spy remained glued to the spot. Sniper stood beside him, unsure of what to say. When he'd been a boy and his grandfather died, his own father – his grandfather's son – didn't shed a single tear at his funeral. His mother had explained that his father's upbringing taught him that crying was a sign of weakness. He realised now that his father had been wrong, as he stood shoulder to shoulder with the Spy and watched tears silently run down his face. He didn't see the Spy as weak. In fact, he'd never had more respect for the man in his life as he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

. . .

Boston, 1976

The Spy strolled beside his soon-to-be step-son, though the young man was blissfully unaware of that inevitability. He'd been vehemently against his mothers relationship with the French rogue and had only recently (after three years) began to tolerate being in the former REDs company. Sometimes.

This was the first time he'd agreed to spend some time alone with the Spy, who had suggested they go for a walk around the park – entirely for his mother's sake, of course. They'd been walking now for forty minutes and neither had spoken yet.

Scout finally caved, his disdain for any form of quiet egging him on as he gingerly looked over. "So, how come we're doin' dis anyways?"

"Because it is fun." Spy said in bored monotone.

"Yeah, when does da fun part start?"

"This is the fun part."

"What? What, walkin'? You find walkin' fun? I thought we were goin' somewhere cool, man!"

"I find it relaxing, and I find being relaxed fun."

"That's kinda gay."

Spy rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you consider anything that does not involve bashing someone's 'ead in with a bat 'gay' yes?" Scout just snorted in response. Further awkward silence followed.

"Why're ya doin' dis to me?" Scout finally blurted out.

"I beg your pardon?"

"She's my mom ya jackass. I only got freakin' one! Why'd ya have'ta do dis to me?"

"Believe it or not, Nathan, the whole world and everything I do within it are not always done with your happiness, or lack of it, in mind."

"It's Nate," he corrected. "Well why then? Jus' tell me!"

"Because I love her." Scout stopped in his tracks, and the Spy copied him a few paces ahead.

"But why?"

"Because she makes me happy? Because I want to spend the rest of my life with her?" at that, one of Scouts eyes arched dramatically. "Nate, I requested you out tonight to ask for your blessing. The truth is I wish to ask your mother to marry me." All was still and quiet for a while, until Nate doubled over and his bellowing laughter rang loudly throughout the park.

"Spook?" Spy jerked back from his memory at the sound of the Bushman's gravelly voice. "Engie's found somthin'." Silently, Spy followed him back to the centre of the barn where Engie and Medic were looking through the only remaining, messy papers from the red toolbox.

"So, according to this the nanoids we need are stored inside the prototypes ... so, inside Pyro."

"Nano-whot?"

"Nanoids. Microscopic machines made for cellular regeneration and destruction. In this case it's to destroy the biological structures that are being mimicked by the machine-part of the BLUs. They're programmed to replicate upon entry and deactivate all foreign machinery, using Carbon as fuel an-"

"Right, right," Sniper held his hands up. "They kill the robots, got it. How'd we get them?"

"Zhe device I gave you." Medic remembered, turning to Engie. "Did you have a look at it?"

"Ah," He pulled the small brown box from his pocket "Nah, not yet."

"If I understand zhese plans correctly, zhen zhe nanoids should be in zhere vhich means ve have our solution to zhe Hubots."

"Hubots?" Sniper quirked an eyebrow, his arms folded.

"That's what this 'C' character refers to the new robots as in these plans."

"Right. Well, let's go find us some Hubots then – and this 'C' wanka along with 'em."

. . .

The grainy screen flickered and jumped out of focus but did not deter the onlooker's concentration. The camera he had planted behind the Scouts right eye was damaged but still feeding the imagery back to him as he sat in his chair. He listened to the four former REDs babbling away.

"Zhe device ... gave you. Did you have a ... at it?" the audio fluttered.

At the Germans words the onlooker sat forward, his attention seized. Upon seeing the fuzzy image of the Texan pulling the packet from his coat, he left the chair to stand an inch from the screen.

"What ... that?" The French one asked.

What those blinking faces said now was irrelevant. The onlooker knew exactly what that was. He created it, after all.

"There you are..." he ran a gloved hand over the screen as if caressing the photo of a long-missing loved one. "I'll have you back soon. Very soon." He chuckled harshly until the picture of the flickering nanoids on the screen faded to black.

. . .

"I say let 'em come. I'll tear their tin-can ass's outta their robot mouths!" Soldier was first to speak once Engineer had explained his findings to the rest of the former REDs upon their return to the hotel. Demoman looked at his friend with a stern eye, clearly grasping the severity of the situation more than his old colleague. "I got a bunch of human heads and a bunch of robot heads at my place to prove that we made them dead," Soldier nodded. "Permanently."

"S'not as easy as that am'fraid. These robots don't look like robots, they look just like us – they even bleed."

"Machines that have blood?" Heavy gave Medic a puzzled look and the doctor nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Vell, you see zhese machines started off as humans. Vhen zhe BLUs vere killed zhey vere made into robots – it is zhere brains being repowered by specially engineered nanoids zhat is reanimating zhem."

"It's like we're up against bloody robot-zombies!" Demo kicked an invisible irritation at his feet. He just wanted a regular job, with regular big explosions and regular insane teammates.

"All we need to know is how to kill them." Heavy glanced down at his team. "Toymaker?"

"Right. Luckily we have jus' that big guy, though I still needa lil' more time to-"

"Excuse me, sir." A ribald Latino woman approached them as they spoke in the dulling car park. She wore a cleaning uniform and smiled at Engie as she wrung her hands in a towel. "You are room 18?"

"I am."

"Uh huh, your wife is on the phone at reception."

"Ah, thank you kindly ma'am," he turned to his team "S'cuse me boys." With the enthusiasm of a puppy, Engie bounded towards reception with a smile. He hated not hearing Arleen's voice all day, it made him feel as if he was missing an essential tool for day to day life.

"S'a funny thing that." Demo watched him go with amusement. Amazed at how quickly the Texan had gone from serious to pleasant at the mention of his wife.

"Get back here short pants; we have battle tactics to plan!" Soldier shook his fist until Heavy laughed and gave his back a little whack.

"Let him go, there is no comfort like the voice of your woman, dah?" Having remained silent for the conversations entirety, the Spy slipped away unseen and unfollowed. Who knew how long Engineer would be on that phone for.

. . .

Scout came to by himself in his hotel room, bleary eyed as a dull ache throbbed in his stomach. His mind raced as he blinked white dots from his vision. That's right, he recalled being attacked. Awh, jeez. He sat up, trying to keep his face straight despite nobody being there to bear witness to his struggles. Having grown up with so many aggressive brothers he'd learned to act tough all the time – even when alone.

"C'mon, man!" he swore at his own legs as they numbly refused to move. Impatient despite his pain, he threw his legs off the side the bed, only to go tumbling down after them.

"Aagh!"

"As graceless as always," Spy opened the door just in time to see Scouts face meet the carpet. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Hey, can it wise-ass. My legs're still asleep."

"And 'ere I was going to offer you a 'and." He sat smoothly in a chair and crossed his legs, bringing an unlit cigarette out to fiddle with as he grinned.

"Yeah? Well, you suck."

"Mm."

Scout struggled for five minutes, then ten minutes, tossing and turning and flopping about like a salmon on a boat until exhaustion pinned him down. He lay there panting until turning to pout at his company.

"What, ya jus' gonna sit there and stare like a freakin' chump or ya gonna help me?"

"Ask nicely."

"Screw you."

"Very well," Spy got to his feet. "I'll see you when you drag yourself-"

"Fiiiiine. Can ya pretty freakin' please help me off my ass an' stop being such a douche?"

"And that is as polite as 'e gets." He wrapped Scouts arm around his shoulder and hoisted him up, helping him gain his balance as the use of his legs slowly returned. It was no surprise that he found himself feeling far more protective of his own Scout than was required, given the boys resemblance to Nate. He even shared the same cheeky, uneven grin that Nate so often did.

"Hehey thanks. So like, what's happenin'? What I miss? Did-" Spy held up a hand.

"Allot 'as 'appened, you missed much excitement and yes – we killed the man who attacked you."

"Alright, alright, so uh, who was it?" He placed a hand on Scouts shoulder to ease him onto the bed before sighing.

"I'll start with what we 'ave just found..."

. . .

There was something strangely comforting about being in a warm, cosy room when the wind and rain raged on outside. The temperature had dropped dramatically after the sun had fallen, Demo could see his breath as he stepped outside to share a cigar with Soldier in the storm.

"Fer the last time Sol, the maid ain't stealin' yer medals."

"Shut your hole Cyclops I know a thief when I see one."

"Aye, an' ye stole near enough everythin' in your bloody room before ye even took yer coat off."

"I paid for them at the desk!"

"Ye paid fer yer room, ya daft bastard!"

"Hey lads, y'seen Engie?" Sniper flicked his hat up with a finger as he approached them. The bulky jacket that he wore, its hood rimmed with thick fur, dripped with rain.

"He's no in his room?"

"Nah. Though he was with you?"

"Non." Spy suddenly de-cloaked by Sniper, holding the key to Engies room. "And neither are the nanoids." All four men turned to stare at the number 18 painted on Engies hotel door. Lightning cracked through the sky and thunder grumbled below their feet. He'd left with the nanoids? Even Soldier didn't know what to say.

. . .

The darkness that shrouded the road did little to deter the Engineer as he raced the van down the dirt road at nearly a hundred miles an hour. Fear gripped him like a vice as he recalled the phone conversation he'd had with Arleen. He was soaked in rain water and sweat, trembling from both the cold and the unwavering fear that twisted in his gut.

"R-Roy?"

"Arleen?"

"O-oh God, Roy-please-"

"Arleen? Wha-"

"Say another word and she dies." The voice was low, male. "I'm going to give you instructions and you are going to follow them. Once you have them I am going to hang up and you are going to end this conversation with 'I love you too'. You will then return to your Hotel room – number 18 – and say nothing to your team about this. Do you understand?"

"...yes."

"Good. Now..."

He'd never taken in information more thoroughly in his entire life than he had those instructions. He thought of Arleen, of how he'd promised her he would be safe. How she never answered his phone call yesterday. Of how terrified she'd just sounded down the line. He'd never once considered that she wouldn't be safe at home, and he'd never hated himself more than now as warm tears escaped his eyes, leaving burning streaks down his cheeks. He looked at his watch; 00:31 hours.

"If you fail to arrive at the agreed location for 01:00 hours, I'm going to gut your wife like a fish."

And then the line had gone dead.

. . .