Author notes: Well, was able to somehow find the energy and willpower to write this chapter despite the rather poor week. Not much to say about this one, it's a bit shorter than the recent giant chapters and a few parts were a pain to write. Updates will still take some time as I'm still in the exam period and I'll say right now that sorry, I don't do requests. This is my first fic and I'd like to finish this before I do anything else and I'm busy enough as is...
...So, yeah, we get to see Team Fortress in action at last, woo!
Chapter 15: Hunted
Miss Pauling slowly made her way through the base, clipboard in hand, nervously jotting down notes. The other high-level employees of TF Industries gave her a wide berth, lest they incur the Administrator's wrath. The woman wasn't known for caring about her assistant or people in general but all the same, nobody wished to delay Miss Pauling for fear of the Administrator, who was well-known to not take delays well.
The young woman took in a deep breath and ceased her scribblings before entering the room that held the most powerful woman in the world. She'd been the Administrator's assistant for several years now but the long walk to the desk where she sat...it still got to her every time. Considering how much she relied on telecommunications in her role as the Announcer, it had struck Miss Pauling as odd that her employer almost always demanded to receive information face-to-face rather than through other means. Still, she did not question it, just as she did not question her less pleasant orders regardless of her personal opinion.
The memory of the Administrator's voice rung in her head as clearly as if the remark had been made just now rather than shortly after her employment: "Assistants aren't paid to think, Miss Pauling. They're paid to do as they're asked and only when absolutely necessary should they turn their insignificant minds to the painfully difficult task of thinking. Do not QUESTION ME AGAIN."
Silence. A timid cough. The sound of a chair turning. Raised eyebrows, a draw of a cigarette and a voice that could freeze even the strongest spirit.
"Your report?"
Blunt and to the point. No surprise there, she was not the woman to waste time and with that in mind Miss Pauling summarised the current deployment of troops, agents, vehicles and even the law enforcement against the rogue mercenaries. Whilst the police were mostly being kept out of it, those in power had already been bought and all it would take would be a single message and the ten mercenaries would become wanted men all across the world.
The Announcer merely sat and listened, occasionally interrupting with a cutting remark or criticism but otherwise the woman was silent. Beneath the ice she was burning with cold fury at the men who dared to betray her. They would not live to see the next sunrise.
Elsewhere a train rumbled along at breakneck pace, juddering and vibrating every so often as the world around it blurred. Atop the train were ten of the most dangerous men in the world and to one side was a vast fleet of vehicles chasing after it. Most were a good distance behind but several unmarked armoured vehicles were catching up to the locomotive and a few light assault vehicles were currently spitting machine gun fire at the figures aboard.
Or rather, there had been a few light assault vehicles. Two of the figures had merely stood tall, took aim and unleashed explosive hell upon the pursuers. The Soldier's rockets flew straight and true, detonating into spheres of pure destructive potential that turned the vehicles into blackened slag and threw them backwards at the gaining fleet, forcing them to swerve and brake. The Demoman let out several barrages of pipebombs, the first barrage traveling in perfect arcs and vaporising the last of the immediate pursuers whilst the latter barrages instead rolled to a halt on the ground. A few moments later and the leaders of the chase ran into the pipebomb trap, the ensuing explosion creating a rush of hot air and ashes that countered the cool breeze atop the racing train.
The two Engineers worked together to construct defences on both sides of the train, mini-sentries forming the bulk of the support whilst level three sentries and dispensers were erected at key locations. The former BLU headed to the back of the train, pulled out his Wrangler with a spin and took control of the rear sentries, coordinating their concentrated fire far beyond their usual range.
The former RED instead made his way to the front, passing by his other teammates as he did so. The Sniper was looking into the distance for any problems further down the track and the Heavy, Pyro and Scout were carrying various supplies, moving the more valuable cargo to better protected carriages, the latter team member clearly struggling under the weight of the large crate he insisted he could carry regardless. The Engineer merely shook his head as he passed them, not too surprised by the crash and resulting angry cries that shortly followed.
Entering the engine car he found the Spy and Medic, who were planning out finer details of their options and backup plans as well as monitoring the radio for information. He must have walked in at a bad moment as he found the pair cursing, with the doctor giving a few short oaths in German whilst the Frenchman swiftly made his way through several languages before settling back to his native French.
"This a bad time, fellas?"
The Medic was the first to respond to the Texan's query, shaking his head and removing his glasses to give them a quick wipe.
"Nein, Herr Engineer. We have merely received word that some 'highly dangerous and insane criminals' matching our descriptions have been given a rather large bounty."
He paused, frowning as he placed his glasses back onto his nose and blinked a few times.
"Considering ze force currently chasing us und the announcement we've heard jetzt...I'd say the Announcer wants us dead."
The Spy snorted at that.
"Only wants us dead? Please, ze Administrator knows that bringing ze law enforcement or any would-be bounty hunters into matters is not enough to really cause us any harm, zhis is just a way for her to gain information about our whereabouts and put us into a state of panic. I can assure you zhat the real issue here is that she's willing to go to such extents and risk blowing the cover behind TF Industries, RED and BLU."
The Frenchman retrieved and lit a cigarette in a single swift, arcing motion that neither of the other men's eyes could quite follow and he took a quick draw of it before pulling it out and opening his mouth as if to say something. Whatever he wished to say was rudely interrupted as an explosion rumbled through the train followed by angry yelling from their teammates. A quick message flashed on the Engineer's googles, alerting him to the destruction of a large amount of mini-sentries and minor damage to other buildings.
The Scout then burst in, nailgun in hand and the bulky watch on his hand flashing. "We got incoming! They've freaking got some helicopters firing missiles at us and my radar is saying sumthin' along the lines of hey dumbass, got more of these guys comin' our way'. Heavy's on top fighting one off right now."
This news caused the doctor to lift his medigun and adjust his glasses one last time before rushing out to aid the Russian, nearly sending the Sniper flying as the Australian came to report, another missile just missing the train.
"Sorry mates, but I've got some bad news too. We got ourselves a right bugger coming up, they've got some heavily armoured train on the tracks besides us trying to catch up. Looks like it'll probably be heavily armed, judging from the exterior."
The Sniper raised one hand to his hat and nodded once to those present before jogging off and climbing up a nearby ladder, rifle at the ready. The Spy looked sadly at the cigarette that had been knocked out of his hands to the ground by the explosion and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Instead he merely nodded to the Engineer before the Texan also ran out of the engine carriage, leaving the masked man to his task. The masked man would have to leave the current situation in the capable hands of his team, he still had work to do, plotting their next move and listening out for further information.
The majority of the team was on the carriage roofs, carefully but swiftly dodging machine gun fire as they fought attacks from both the ground and air. The Demoman found himself mostly firing pipebombs at the pursuing land vehicles as he used his shield to protect himself and reloading teammates from weapons fire. The Soldier had turned his attention to firing at the ever-growing bombardment of battle 'copters, occasionally firing off the occasional rocket towards clusters of heavier armoured ground pursuers.
The two Engineer's had their hands full maintaining and directing their automated defences, which were currently the main force keeping lighter armoured attackers, airborne or otherwise, at bay. Dell kept his position at the rear, wrestling the Wrangler to and fro, expertly destroying the larger threats and ducking to each side to avoid rockets being launcher by nearby soldiers poking their heads out of their APCs. The Crimson Demon repaired and built with one hand as his other spat out fiery death, forcing the 'coptors off his back as he maintained the defences, running up and down the train.
The Pyro was running and hopping everywhere to deflect the air-to-land missiles, a few of the guided explosives redirected to their source, stopping only to recover some ammo at a dispenser or set alight anything that came too close to the train using the new flamethrower option that spat out an arcing stream of fire. The airborne annoyances would quickly pull back, rotors aflame and smoke trailing, leaving the team some slight breathing time before even more took their place.
The Sniper found himself poking his head out of wherever he could find cover, taking a few shots at drivers of the vehicles, his rounds piercing even the sturdiest of so-called "bulletproof" glass. He would then quickly change positions, sometimes even hanging between carriages on a ladder to avoid being spotted by the helicopters and with a single pull of the trigger cause a hole between the pilot's eyes and the 'copter to spiral out of control into nearby mountains. He still tried to find the time to keep a bead on the approaching train behind them in the distance that was still slowly gaining on them.
The Heavy rained liquid death in all directions, invigorated by the modified medigun the Medic trailed on the Russian most of the time, the connection between doctor and patient breaking only with the call for help from a teammate and some quick healing. The pair made slow progress from the top of the train to the bottom, the minigun roaring in defiance of the pitiful bullets that their foes tried to hit them with. Sasha span and span, her bullets chewing through everything in their path with ease, detonating rockets in midair, breaking helicopter blades off and pushing the attackers further from the engine car. Any rocket aimed at the pair would merely be shrugged off and the pair would continue to advance, not daunted in the least as the train rattled and threatened to throw them off.
The Scout was choosing a path of destruction best described as "stupidly suicidal". The arrogant boy would leap onto any vehicle that got past the rest of the team and even toss a flash-bang grenade into the vehicle, causing the driver to lose sight and veer out of control or he'd drop in himself and impale his foes with rapid-fire nails, blasting the heavier armoured soldiers back with the twice-modified Force-A-Nature. With a suitable taunt and grin he would then jump to his next victim or leap back to the train just in time. On one occasion when one of the choppers had flew his way he'd leapt up, latched onto the "leg" of the helicopter, pulled himself into the cockpit, blasted the pilot through the other door then double-jumped back onto the still moving train, landing just as the now pilot-less 'copter crashed into the ground and exploded as an assault vehicle crashed into it. The stunt had earned the boy a hearty slap on the back from Jane before the Soldier had returned to his duties.
All in all it was sheer chaos and Team Fortress were at the centre of it, taking little more than scratches which failed to faze them as they struck out at their attackers. Little by little, the impossible numbers thinned, the only real concern being the heavily armoured dark train that got closer and closer. A few casual shots had been fired at it by the team but they caused little visible damage and they had more pressing concerns. Occupied with the more immediate threats and with their own speed reduced a little with every attack landed by their sea of foes, it was allowed to creep closer and closer.
The Spy ran from carriage roof to carriage roof, using the combined cloaking functions of the OmniWatch to avoid weapons fire and reduce damage using the Dead Ringer component of any random shots that did hit him. He made it to the central car where most of the team had gathered and uncloaked, the Ambassador in one hand. The team were a little surprised by his appearance but a few moments later and the last threat had been destroyed, the wreckage and flames in the distance behind them stretching for miles across the dusty plains.
"Gentlemen, we have trouble. Zhe attackers were a distraction; they have destroyed the tracks ahead and formed a massive railblock consisting of tanks, artillery, soldiers and snipers. The train following us is intending on boarding us, carrying members of RED and BLUs own elite armed forces under direct orders from the Administrator to take us in...in a 'state that could allow us to be revived'. We've fallen into her trap; we'll either die in irretrievable pieces or be killed only to be brought back somehow, once again slaves to that woman's bidding."
The Spy paused, the wind from atop the train causing his eyes to water as he fumbled for his cigarette case. Predictably, the nicotine stick was snatched out of his hands by the high speeds and so he instead sighed and shut his eyes and sighed for a moment before straightening, his eyes sparkling and dancing.
"Or rather, zhat is what she thinks of our predicament. I, however, have a magnificent plan, mon amis..."
The Frenchman was not to be outdone by such a simple trap. His opponent had made her move and believed she was about to checkmate them. This would not be the case, he would not allow it, for it was their move now and they would survive. He'd assassinated world leaders, obtained information that could cause a new World War and managed to escape death time and time again, both before and during this conflict.
He would not roll over and die now. He would not be hunted. They would not be hunted. They would not give in. For this was to be the beginning, their first strike on the road to the end. The world could chase and attack and shout and scheme all it wanted, they wouldn't be caught so easily. The team would not falter, would not bow to that woman ever again, would not play into her hands once more.
For they may be hunted.
For they may be wanted.
For they may be outnumbered.
But...
They would not be outmatched.