Author's notes: Super, super massive apology for the delays with this chapter! Seriously, been meaning to write this one forever and all the stuff keeping me busy ended quite a long while ago now...I just couldn't find the energy to write on days where I had the time and on days where I did have the energy, there was always something going on. Soon enough, more stuff came along to get me all busy and I've had plenty of worries and concerns as of late to stop me writing but still...I really have no excuse.
I just hope my readers can forgive me. I finally managed to get myself to write and as such, this chapter may not be of the best quality as I haven't properly checked it through by myself or anyone else; I just really wanted no more delays. I'll try and get the next chapter, which will likely be quite short, done ASAP. Here's hoping nothing gets in the way...
Again, my apologies to all my readers! ."

Chapter 16: Outclassed

There was something to be said of the atmosphere, it wasn't often you saw a group like this nervous. TF Industries' private and very much top-secret armed forces were the sort who would look at others claiming to be "the best of the best" and inside would be roaring in laughter even as they politely nodded. You didn't work directly for the Administrator, taking care of her loose ends and any "experiments" that had run out of control without learning a thing or two. It wasn't often they were called in and usually it was just a single unit of the force, used for intimidation, a spot of assassination or for dealing with more direct confrontations.

However, it was not one, but two units that sat in the heavily armoured train, seemingly silent and stoic. However, to anyone more perceptive or experienced, they would notice the signs. The split-second breaks in composure, the slight electricity in the air...nobody in Unit 17 or Unit 11 said anything, but they didn't need to.

They knew the story of RED and BLU, or at least enough of it. With TF Industries you learnt enough to do your job and nothing more, people who knew too much tended to wind up dead...or worse. The fine men and women here were not the most elite of the forces but were still very much a force to be reckoned with. But the men they were facing...they were something else entirely.

The 18 mercenaries of RED and BLU, fighting a never-ending war where death meant nothing, where being lit aflame, launched through the air with explosives then stabbed in the back was relatively tame. They were war crazy enough for men to test tempered steel swords against shotguns, where turrets tracked your every move, where men were turned to gods of destruction for but a moment, medigun beam trained on them...

There was no doubt that such men were dangerous and insane, but all the same, you had to respect their might. To see and hear over the radio what the 10 remaining had done whilst pursued; eliminating everything else but the armoured train merely reinforced the obvious: these men were not to be taken lightly. To underestimate these men for but a moment would be fatal.

Captain Johnson of Unit 17 knew this, he felt the apprehension, felt the need to raise his voice, to remind and assure his men. But he bit his tongue and kept his silence even as their vehicle pulled up alongside the enemy train. To speak now would to violate protocol and ruin the professionalism they strived to maintain...and would ruin his image in front of the commander of this mission, Commander Marshall of Unit 11. Both units were not as experienced or well-equipped as some of the true elites within the forces, but both were reliable and commanded respect, with Unit 11 having more seasoned veterans and spotless operations under its belt.
And so the tension went unaddressed as Commander Marshall roused the troops, personally leading the two units into the fray under his better experience. 20 of the 30 men stood at attention as their armoured transport connected itself to the other train, hatches opening as they prepared to board. The other 10 men, including Johnson, various operators of the vehicle and backup troops, stayed behind.

The world is a strange place of circumstances and possibilities. Had Johnson spoken up or insisted to go with the boarding group, perhaps things would have gone differently and there would be survivors to pass on the tale about to unfold. Had it not been for a detonation in front of both trains temporarily gaining the attention of the operators, maybe the detachment of the last few trailers of the enemy train would have been noticed and acted upon.

As it was, however, Johnson remained silent and the distraction of a fired rocket combined with preparing to board the train masked the escape of Team Fortress...

The Spy carefully controlled his breathing as the last few carriages swiftly vanished behind the moving train as it rocked along on its course with the armoured container of soldiers latched onto it. He resisted the urge to pull out a cigarette and merely held his knife firmly as his eyes burned into the hatch of the enemy train.

Stooped into a low crouch in one corner, he smiled a little, glancing at his OmniWatch as the Cloak & Dagger functionality allowed him to remain invisible indefinitely as long as he remained still. The trap was ready, his allies were gone and any moment now his prey would be here.

A bead of sweat runs down his covered forehead as the hatch hisses open and the soldiers emerge, weapons and armour gleaming in the sun. They bear no markings and their armour is light: enough to help protect vitals without hindering movement. They carry a varied assortment of weaponry but there is no mistaking the quality and advancement over other military hardware and even the tools of the trade used by RED and BLU.

The Frenchman tries to resist a snort as he watches them move, well-equipped and co-ordinated. It would appear that TF Industries had been seriously holding back on weapon developments released to the mercenaries, as even the most rudimentary of handguns and rifles of their private forces was countless decades ahead of current firearms. But all the training and equipment in the world would not save them, for whilst they may be among the best of the best at what they did...the Spy simply was the best and his only regret was that they would all be dead before they knew it.

The boarding party efficiently made their way through the seemingly-deserted train; the hairs on their neck starting to rise as their eyes darted to and fro, searching for a sign of the enemy or for potential traps. The group had men guarding the rear and watching for signs above, below and to the sides of potential dangers. Some might call it paranoid to check in all directions, no matter how ridiculous or impossible a threat from that direction may be, but you didn't get to be in TF Industries' armed forces by gasping in surprise at the impossible, you just dealt with it.
Just as Commander Marshall's brow furrowed in suspicion, they all heard it: laughter further up ahead. Various voices, the sound of a radio getting louder and louder. It appeared to be coming from near the front of the train, perhaps even in the front carriage. For a split-second, they were all distracted.

A split-second was all it took. The Spy had switched to the standard InvisWatch function, the already quiet-decloak sound masked further by the OmniWatch as he dispatched a solider at the rear silently in a single swift motion. Light armour mattered little to a masterful assassin such as himself, and dealing with the body was almost as trivial. In the past, HQ had supplied him with various knives which could kill foes silently and even temporarily mask the body.
They all had their flaws though, for instance, they didn't mask the sound of the body hitting the floor and mostly felt like crutches for the Frenchman. Still, he'd gotten some of the technology integrated into his reliable butterfly knife and with practice he'd learnt to both strike soundlessly and swiftly lower the invisible corpse as his knife and disguise kit worked together to instantly assume the appearance of whomever he had just killed.

The soldiers were none the wiser and the Spy, having watched the motions of each of them and their roles, blended in perfectly. The Commander merely commanded them to keep alert for a moment as he called in one the team waiting in their transport, telling them that they were moving in to engage the enemy and still had the element of surprise.

The mercenary followed them as they made progress closer and closer to the front, finding what moments he could to take equipment, either by expert pick-pocketing skills or in one case, casually killing one person who might have saw something.

Still, he wished to avoid killing too many just yet, even one missing person might blow his cover. Yet here they were, just outside the door to the front cabin, where the clear sounds of celebrating mercenaries could be heard.

Commander Marshall had resisted the urge to laugh and had confidently lead his men forward. Whilst he still kept his head enough to keep an eye out for hidden motion-sensitive explosions or hidden foes, he had yet to encounter any and had thus come to the conclusion that these so-called mercenaries and "highly dangerous individuals" were no longer a threat. They had pulled off their little stunt earlier, hadn't noticed the pursuing train or the roadblock and railblock ahead and were now celebrating like utter imbeciles.

He hadn't noticed any missing men or how repetitive the sounds from the front cabin were. He hadn't heard the sound of a man cloaking from sight and almost-soundlessly retreating away. He hadn't stopped to properly consider what was behind his door.

With a nod to the nearest troop, he smashed the door down, rifle at the ready, men at his back to find...

A radio with some small contraption on it by the volume dial, several tape recorders and amplifiers and most worryingly, a large amount of explosives. The boarding party had no time to react as a motion-sensor triggered the first batch of explosives in the cabin, which in turn triggered a chain reaction, causing various smaller detonations from explosives strapped to the outside of the carriages and trailers closest to the front.

The explosion was enough to kill or fatally injure all but one who had hung back, watching for any surprise attacks from the rear. He found himself flung to the ground and disorientated as the engine carriage was blown into a burnt husk with others merely having their roofs collapse or their sides crumple away. The lone survivor was awake just long enough for to hear an utterance of, "Surprise," over the ringing in his ears before he too, perished and his murderer faded away once more.

The Spy breathed a sigh of relief. They'd fallen for his trap even easier than he had dared hope and the Demoman had actually managed to cause enough destruction without wrecking the whole train or causing injury to himself, who had been several trailers away. The one member of the boarding party who had survived was now dead but there were still a few loose ends to cut yet. After all, were it as simple as leading the men to their explosive death, there would be no need for him to stay behind.

No, anyone still on the enemy train would have heard that explosion and would immediately be suspicious. They would contact their superiors if possible and then investigate. Whilst it would not be too much of a hassle if they survived, they could still work out roughly where and when the team had vanished and possibly track them. It was better to leave no survivors...

Coughing for a moment to adjust his voice, he reached for the stolen equipment and picked out the radio. The voice of Commander Marshall gruffly addressed those aboard the enemy train.
"I can confirm the deaths of all 10 mercenaries. We've took a few causalities, the tricky bastards took themselves out with explosives upon receiving fire, over."

"Roger that, Commander. Awaiting our units and your report when you get back, over and out." Came the voice of Captain Johnson, the slightest hint of relief breaking through his otherwise stoic tone.

The Spy merely chuckled to himself as he clicked the radio off. He had several options for dealing with the remainders but decided that putting the stolen equipment to use was the best solution. With a drag on a cigarette his form was covered in smoke for a few moments, vanishing to reveal the grizzled features of the Commander. Hefting the stolen rifle and pocketing a flash-bang grenade, the mercenary continued to the hatch and betrayed the slightest hint of a smile before entering.

The exclamations of shock and surprise as he killed the Captain of Unit 17, averted his gaze as he tossed the flash-bang and then slaughtered the rest was oddly soothing to the Frenchman as he slit the neck of the last of his prey, a short navigator for the armoured beast he stood within. As professional as he normally was, sometimes there was a perverse joy he could take to his work. There was all the skill of silently executing your targets with not a single clue to lead back to you as you vanished back into the shadows, an art form more refined than music or painting in his opinion...and then there were matters like this. Riskier and best done when all else was in control, they were less elegant but made up for it with satisfaction.

The 9 members of Team Fortress separated from the Spy casually rested as their carriage slowly made it's progress down the rails. They'd planned for having to jettison trailers, possibly with themselves still on them and as such, had been able to carry their part in the Spy's plan easily. Whilst the masked man could imitate their voices easily enough, it was the little sounds like moving chairs and chinking glasses that made it all convincing, so they'd quickly recorded what they had to, fired off their distraction, detached the last few trailers and with the help of some modifications, had braked to halt. Once they were sure the trains were too far ahead to notice them, the two Engineer's had devised a hacked-together method of propulsion, modifying the front carriages' wheels and linking them up to a simple engine with the help of the others. The Scout had mostly fetched tools and metal, the Pyro was surprisingly useful regarding the construction of the internal combustion engine and the Sniper kept an eye out for any further pursuers or survivors from earlier attacks. Demoman, Soldier and Heavy were useful with the brute-force work and the Medic was awfully useful at coordinating everyone and checking that all went efficiently.

Their progress was slower than the trains ahead but was still swift enough for their purposes and soon enough they caught sight of the trains in the distance, both of which had slowed down significantly. The Sniper, eye to his scope, made out a familiar figure tumbling out onto the ground before both vehicles accelerated into the distance once more, thundering towards the roadblock that awaited them both even further down the line.

The modified trailers braked to a halt once more to pick up the masked man, who even now was wiping dust and dirt from his suit, all in vain, as the two trains vanished into the distance, the armoured vehicle seeming to almost drag the other with it as it continued on the course the Spy had set into it before leaping off.

Upon being reunited and finally giving up his suit as a lost cause for now, it was all the Frenchman could do not to smirk too much at his teammates and gloat. The appreciation and praise in their eyes and voice was enough. For once, he even tolerated the cheap American alcohol they thrust upon him, the loud praise, the powerful slap on the back and all the other little quirks.

Outside, the Spy was smug and clearly straining not to break out into snorting laughter or roll his eyes and bask in his own superiority. But inside, the cold-hearted killer relaxed a little and pondered on the men he had once merely thought of as colleagues and now...had somehow found as his friends.

He coughed once to get their attention, grins fading for a moment as he put on his most serious and dignified air.

"Gentlemen. I know of a base nearby that has fallen out of use and memory for most that we can use temporarily as our own, mon amis...but first I would like to make but a small observation..."

Their eyes were on him, the wind gently blowing in the open-topped trailer they were currently in as they slowly made their way forwards once more. He shut his eyes for a moment, feeling his lungs expand with air, his heart beating and generally savouring his life.

With some effort he opened his eyes and shone them an award-winning smile which quickly turned into a smug smirk as he finally spoke what he'd been holding in for quite some time:

"Clearly, they were outclassed."