Author's notes: So, yeah, got some feedback way quicker than I expected in the form of a review, story alert and two favourites. I'm going to take this as a sign that me attempting to write again isn't a complete waste of time. With some free time and a wish to do something creative I decided to devote some time to getting Chapter 2 done, which is almost twice as long as the first chapter and really sets the tone of what's to come. I've took some liberty with the locations and relations of the characters but hey, I don't think I've gone too far beyond what is established in canon. Still, if you have a problem with my characterisation or my use of say, "Teufort" instead of "2fort", then let me know.
Don't expect further updates to be done one after the other like this. Things will be infrequent and unreliable at best. A little warning: things may seem a wee bit darker than the usual super happy fun world of TF2 we're used to...or maybe not.
Edit: Thanks go to GothicChesire, who's helped correct some mistakes with both chapters. Things should be a little clearer now, hopefully. Further thanks go to everyone who's favourited, put this on story alert or reviewed so far! I'll try not to let you down.
Chapter 2: And so it begins...
The Engineer sighed in relief as he finished binding his bad leg. He'd been fortunate enough to spot the top of a resupply locker sticking out of the rubble with one door slightly ajar. He wasn't able to move the larger debris or the locker itself, but he was able to position his remaining arm through the door and slowly wriggle the door outwards, allowing him to pull medical supplies out. Painkillers would have been a godsend to the Texan but he knew that the Medic had never bothered to stock up on them. Considering the nature of the battle against BLU, the medigun and the respawn system, it would have been a waste.
Somehow he doubted that was the only reason the Medic didn't have anything to ease pain. The doc was an okay guy most of the time, if a little stressed out, but, well...the gleam in his eyes when he operated on his teammates? The Engineer shuddered at the memory. He'd been able to stop the bleeding from the stump joined to his left shoulder that used to be his arm and had even sorted out his left leg fairly competently. Sure he'd given out a few grunts of pain when he'd been removing the shrapnel and it was a messy job, but he had endured it and bound the limb. Whilst he still couldn't quite run and jump about the place, whooping like a cowboy, he could at least walk on it and possibly even jog without any major pains for now.
He'd had enough time to consider his next move and knew that his best choice would be to head to the base at Teufort. The base was situated in a town to the north of Dustbowl, past a small mountainous region. The local RED supply train which supplied the company's bases ran from Thunder Mountain, past Badwater Basin, by the town of Teufort, through the mountains, by Dustbowl and through Gold Rush. If he could get to the supply train he could get to Teufort and plan his next move from there.
Of all the bases, Teufort was probably the single most used and had some fairly good accommodation for each team in addition to methods of contacting HQ. It was a place the Engie knew like the back of his hand and for all the death and bloodshed; he was a little fond of the place. He had a lot of good memories of the team enjoying themselves during ceasefire, sometimes even able to go into the town and have a night out.
The Texan shook his head, berating himself for getting lost in his thoughts. He still had to get there yet and despite his efforts, he still wasn't exactly at peak physical condition at the moment. He glanced at his trusty wrench, wishing for a moment that he hadn't lost his other weapons and toolboxes in the explosion in the respawn room. Members of BLU might still be out there and he had nothing but his wrench and his wits to deal with them.
As much as he hated to admit, he'd have to take a page out of the Spy's book if he was to survive. And so he left the debris that was once the last control point, cautiously making his way through the battlefield. Looking at the blast marks, smouldering rubble and countless craters scattered around him, he felt that Dustbowl was much like himself at the moment: wounded, alone and a shadow of its former self.
Quietly creeping past the first control point of the final stage he entered the thankfully still intact building that would lead to where BLU's respawn for this round stood. He silently made his way downstairs and peeked around the corner to spot the damaged wreck of the respawn room. The fencing that blocked access to the previous stage had been torn down. More and more signs that this truly hadn't been a normal round of Attack/Defend...if you could really call a war controlled with time limits, technology to bring mercenaries back to the death and the men he worked alongside "normal" in the first place.
The lone member of RED continued backwards through Dustbowl, ducking here and there, trying to use cover and ceasing his movements at every sound he heard or thought he heard. The dang place was just too quiet, it wasn't right. Apart from the occasional gust of wind or the crackling of flames that still persisted, it was eerily quiet.
Or at least, it was until the tunnels in stage two started to collapse. Eyes widening behind his goggles in surprise at the sudden rumbling above and the rocks bouncing off his hard hat, the Engineer broke into a run and escaped the tunnels with only a minor headache and a complaining leg. He sat down for a moment outside to regain his breath and let himself recover. He quickly got up, checking in all directions (including above him, you don't be with RED this long and not learn about aerial attackers) as he crept past the first control point of stage two. The building was a heap with only the control point itself still intact.
He suddenly tensed as his ears picked up a sound in the distance. A voice? His eyes narrowed and his face took on a frown as he approached the respawn room that marked the transition from stage two to stage one. A familiar, annoying voice, no doubt about it. There's no mistaking the voice of a Scout, after all. The kids sure did seem to love getting under people's skin and attracting as much attention to themselves as possible, there were times where he'd wanted to throw his wrench into the RED Scout just as much as his BLU counterpart.
He carefully stayed in the shadows of the tunnel, listening to the Scout and slowly edging his way towards stage one. It was the BLU Scout unfortunately and he was having a rather...heated conversation with someone over his earpiece, his back to the Engineer. "-I just don't see why I gotta hang around this dump, keepin' an eye out for those RED losers. We got them good this time, so stop bein' a baby about it, I got this."
The Texan started to doubt that the Scout would notice him even if he was right in front of him, the BLU runner starting to raise his voice. "Hey! Fuck you, you damn spy, you want some of dis? Ooh, real scary! Why don't you come back down here and say that to my face?"
Ah, the Spy. Put two of perhaps the most aggravating mercenaries together and watch the sparks fly. Seems this held true for both teams. The Engineer considered his options at this point. The Scout was distracted so he could probably sneak by him or deliver a swift wrench to the back of the boy's head. Whilst he would be doomed if the Scout actually noticed him, he didn't feel inclined to bash the kid on the noggin' either. If the BLU Spy suddenly heard a cry of pain from the Scout or the earpiece going silent, the whole enemy team would know something was up.
Besides, it didn't feel right to just sneak up on the boy and do him in like this. He was a lot like their own Scout and for all the pains he'd dealt with because of that hyperactive teammate (his constant insistence on building Dispensers in unusual places particularly grated his nerves), the kid's heart was in the right place and it was wrong for one so young to be risking his life at war all the time, even with respawn.
As soon as this thought was finished and the Engie had made his mind on sneaking past the BLU he heard something that made his blood run cold: "-don't know why we're still talking about this, you did sabotage their respawn and everythin', right? The Demoman, Soldier and Pyro did their part smashing and blowing everything to bits, so there shouldn't be any of those REDs still about. We got them, they're dead and we can finally go home! Loosen up, ya French bastard, I'm outta here and soon I'll be outta this mess and be going back home to Boston."
With that the Scout angrily turned off his earpiece, ending his communication with the BLU master of stealth, pouting as he muttered insults under his breath, turning around to pick up his bat from where he'd left it propped up against the debris-
WHAM! The BLU had no chance to dodge or come up with some retort, let alone defend himself as the burning fury of a Texan with 11 PhDs, a strong arm and a hefty wrench landed upon him. With a dull thud, the Scout's body fell to the ground, sliding a little and kicking up some dust before coming to a stop, a slight trail of blood smeared across the ground.
The RED Engineer panted, sweat cascading down his face as his wrench hung by his side, still held in a tight, vice-like grip, fiery blood rushing around his body. Seconds passed and a slight wind picked up, blowing a tumbleweed into the Texan's leg. Suddenly waking from his trance, he glanced down and stepped back, dropping his wrench as he did so. Soon, he too was on the ground, kneeling as he stared up at the blazing sun ahead.
The Scout's words had broken his mind from his injury-induced haze, cementing his thoughts on two clear points: that the respawn was in fact disabled completely rather than suffering a mere malfunction, and that it had been very much an intentional act. His thoughts had become clear, precise...
When he was little, he was taught about what a man should and shouldn't do. A man should be strong, should be polite, never hit a woman and never show his weakness, never shed tears. He took these lessons to heart even as he expanded his intellect and worked tirelessly over his first early machines. For his entire life he had abided by these lessons as best he could and throughout all the bloodshed and insanity this war had caused he had not once shed a tear.
Until now.
He started at the sun, his vision distorted by the darkness of his goggles and the tears in his eyes, trickling down his face beneath his trademark eyewear. The Engineer cried. He cried for his comrades, the men he had ate, lived and killed alongside these past few years, the quirky mercenaries he had grown to love as if part of some crazy family, the people who had saved his hide more times than he could count.
They were gone: the Scout with his enthusiasm and youthful naivety despite his arrogance... The Soldier who, for all his clear insanity, only wanted his team to be at their best at all times... The Pyro, man, woman or whatever the current rumour of the week was, his job would have been unbearable without their assistance... The Demoman, he may have been drunk more often than not and hard to approach but sit down next to him with a beer and talk defence and he'd be a friend for life... The Heavy Weapons Guy, powerful, loud and fierce to his enemies, caring, humble and fiercely defensive of his teammates... The Sniper, possibly the Engineer's best friend in this war during ceasefire, a man who like himself liked to enjoy the quiet and the scenery every now and again, sitting together on the roof of Teufort... The Medic, regardless of his past and his love of sawing through human flesh, he took care to heal everyone on the team and keep them all alive, even "wasting" an Übercharge on the Engineer once to save him... And even the Spy, that crafty, smooth-talking, cowardly backstabber who nonetheless had never betrayed the team and for all his teasing, wasn't all that bad...
A scream echoed throughout the three stages of Dustbowl and far beyond, charged with sorrow, righteous anger and regret. For but a moment time ground to a halt and the world was silent as the last RED mourned the death of his team, pouring his pent-up emotions over the years into a single cry that would cause the BLU team all to shudder, suddenly afraid, and for a certain emotionless, manipulative Announcer to feel something akin to human fear for the first time in decades. In Australia, the man known as Saxton Hale paused in the middle of his regular disembowelling of a group of hippies to look to the sky and let a frown form on his face before continuing to pummel his way through his own personal bloodbath.
Time started again and the man known only by his class designation, the Engineer, rose to his feet, taking his goggles off for a moment to wipe his face with his only hand before closing his eyes and slowly placing them back on. A breath in, a breath out, the wind blew once more and the tumbleweed rolled away from the scene.
He opened his eyes and even beneath the darkness of his eyewear, a powerful fire burned, sparking and flashing in those now tearless eyes. He reached for his wrench and holstered it, moving slowly to the body of the BLU Scout. The boy was still alive, as evidenced by the slow rise and fall of his chest. A quick check revealed the strange, modified Force a' Nature the BLU had been using earlier and a standard pistol identical to his own.
The primary weapon was useless to the Engineer, unable to wield it with one arm and the knockback from it being too much for him in his current state. Had he been thinking more rationally he may have kept it to investigate the modifications that had made the Scout even more of a pain than normal in battle today, but instead he threw it aside, pocketing ammo for the pistol and gripping the pistol in his good hand, sunlight glinting from the barrel.
The Texan avenger spun the firearm in-between his fingers before squeezing off a few rounds into the back of the Scout's head, staining the runner's shirt a bright red. A press of a release button and a quick toss upwards, and the Engineer's hand reached for his pocket even as the clip fell from the pistol. A new clip in his palm, a swift movement almost too fast for the eye to see, and the gun was in his hand once more, now loaded with a new full clip of ammo.
The spent clip clattered onto the ground, the sound seeming so much louder than it should have in the deathly silence. He trudged forward, one step at a time, his face neutral and expressionless as the Scout's corpse faded away behind him, indicating that the respawn system was still very much available for the BLUs.
As the wind blew once more and the sun's rays continued to warm the earth, there was no smile on the mercenary's face, no glint in his eyes, no spring in his step. There was only the fire in his eyes, the sun glinting off his gun and the dirt on his helmet.
RED team was no more. Now there was only...
The Last Engineer.