Author's notes: Massive apologies for the lateness of this chapter and it's relative shortness. A lot of things came up that prevented me from writing, both of the minor, energy-sapping variety and the major-emotional-upheaval kind. On the plus side, passed my driving test first time and on the hopefully plus side (but could be bad side), I get my exam results tomorrow. My fate will be determined then...
So um, yeah, enjoy the chapter, thanks for the support and all being well you won't have to wait so long for the next ^_^;
The Last Engineer – Chapter 29: The Master of Time
Time. One of the four dimensions that makes up the very fabric of reality as we know it. Seemingly unchangeable, the very notion of altering fate or walking to any point in history has been gripping the imagination of humanity for generations upon generations. To control space is to own all that is the present. But to control time is to own all that ever was and ever will be.
Time. When it all comes down to it, there's never enough and all mortals can only wish they had more of it or spent their limited allowance better. A currency beyond value, forever slipping out of your grasp, always fading away. Those who have spent their time wisely become great forces in the world and as such, history records them.
Time. To change the past, to alter the present, to secure the future...a power too great to resist. Everyone has some tragedy in the past to prevent, whether personal or something more global. Isaac Howard, former RED Engineer, is no exception.
The Crimson Demon stares at his foe and the watch in his hand, a strange lust filling his being, even as rationality and scepticism holds him back. The Demon craves the power, some part of him arguing that he needs it, that everything can be fixed again. Why be sceptical of the power? To one who has witnessed a war with temporary deaths, weapons that break physics, the ability to warp through space, invisibility, clones, a robot army and more...is the ability to manipulate time really such a stretch of the imagination?
"...I can see that has gotten your attention. Perhaps...perhaps you would care for a demonstration?"
Silence. It seemed odd that there should be silence, weren't the others fighting still? But all the same, the air was thick with it as the Gentleman slowly got to his feet, watch and tea in hand.
A sudden motion and the cup was flung into the air. The pair watched, almost as if in slow-motion as it span and what little fluid remained within the cup left, droplets streaking through the air. Isaac blinked and felt his mouth fall open. It wasn't merely adrenaline or a trick of the mind, the tea really was moving slower than it should and was getting increasingly slower until finally the cup and fluid, clearly separate, were suspended in mid-air.
He could see the individual droplets that had flown away from the main body of the liquid; he could see the irregular shape of it in mid-flight. Taking a step to the side, he looked around it at a different angle, still wary of getting too close to the self-proclaimed Tenth Class. Even as he boggled at the implications, part of him questioned whether this was truly time manipulation or rather, some form of levitation or a hologram or something else. Still, he stepped back for a moment all the same, his goggled gaze returning to the enigma of a man before him.
"Unfortunately, I believe there is still at least one fight still on-going and I hate to ask this of you, but we do need a little more data from you. Please brace yourself."
Gritting his teeth and still very uncertain about this whole business, Isaac complied all the same, readying both his weapons and his mind. Maybe he'd get some real answers later or he'd figure it all out when given a moment, but it looked like he was in for another painfully frantic clash.
###
The last time the Gentleman had unleashed his fury of blows, Isaac had been pushed to his limits just to evade, parry, deflect and cover his own openings. That he'd been able to counter-attack last time was itself an impressive feat. But there'd be no such feats this time.
There was no fury, only the cold, only the pain, only the despair. The proud demon felt himself slow, felt every thought and motion become sluggish, seeing only brief images of his foe as he was battered from all sides at a speed that just didn't seem possible. Desperate, he fired Vengeance, hoping that the powerful wide spread of charged buckshot would find the ever-moving foe. But it was not to be.
Just as with the tea, the storm of buckshot slowed and halted in mid-flight, the Gentleman nowhere to be seen. Teeth clenched, body screaming in agony as a mighty blow punched through his side, he brought his mechanical arm up, the prosthetic already shifting into the chaingun...only for it too, to halt and lock up before it was complete, a hunk of partially-shifted metal, useless to him now.
It was then that he started to feel the terror licking at his mind, a fright he hadn't felt take purchase on his soul since he had first experienced the power of one Saxton Hale. But this was so very different. Hale was a beast of a man and the fear that gripped his prey was primal, something that acted on instinct. You didn't need to see the Australian tear through your team to be afraid, you already knew.
The Gentleman was different. He was very much a mere man and in some ways that was all the more terrifying. He held mystery, knowledge and impossible power behind his affable exterior. Earlier he had been holding back and still had come so close to destroying Isaac. Some voice in his mind cynically noted that perhaps even now, as blows rained down from all angles, as his very mind itself was being slowed, this opponent was still not showing his full power.
...it was getting dark and he could no longer hear. He felt blood trickle down him, he felt bones snap, he felt the shadow dancing around him. The question of "where?" didn't matter. The wounds were everywhere, the assault was everywhere and most importantly, the Master of Time was everywhere.
Until, suddenly, it wasn't. The weakened demon looked up from his knees, not even realising that he'd fallen at some point. His mind, as fast as it had been, wept as signals of pain screamed their undying torment at him. His body, beaten and battered but not yet broken, could still move unhindered were it not for the pain.
The Brit was standing there, leaning heavily on his umbrella, his clothes and weapons somehow devoid of the Engineer's blood. Breathing was laboured and the expression on his ageing face was strained, at best. Whatever exactly that time control had been that had frozen bullet and prosthetic alike, and reduced the Engineer to a crawl, it would appear that it was severely draining.
Had Isaac been in a better state, perhaps he would have theorised on how this made sense, if such a weapon existed without any truly significant downside then the Administrator would have already used it to wipe them out and take over the world. Maybe he would have further noted that the Gentleman appeared to be the only one able to make use of the ability and that for all of the attacks, the Brit honestly did not mean to kill him.
As it was however, the former RED was in no state to ponder on such things. Instead, his practical mind absorbed the components of the problem and saw the solution.
It was simple but it was enough for a pained smile to grace his bruised features for but a brief moment. He may not have been able to use an Über-Overdrive, but there was nothing stopping him from using a normal Übercharge, was there? And right now, with his teammates still occupied fighting or regrouping, he had his enemy standing still and weakened.
Isaac flipped the switch.
###
Compared to the almost godly power imbued to him by the Über-Overdrive, a mere Übercharge no longer made him feel quite as invincible. Oh, there was no denying the charge running through his blood, the booming beat of his heart, the healing aura fixing his wounds and the pain fading to nothing. There was no denying that right now, for but a brief stretch of time he was invulnerable to damage and charged with tremendous energy. There was also no denying that he was exhausted and injured.
The Über may grant temporary invulnerability, erase the pain, grant a burst of energy and allow the medigun and dispenser components of the LFD to treat his wounds, but it wouldn't instantly undo the damage. And so, as his body shone and crackled, Isaac got to his feet and took a deep breath in, aware that his time was already running out.
His foe was weakened and did not wish him dead. His teammates would be here soon. Thus his goal was not to defeat the Gentleman, even if he could. No, he just had to survive and cause some damage in this opening he had been given.
The Crimson Demon, mind set and body recovered enough to suffice, charged forward with a quick boost from his thrusters, his robotic arm transforming back from its half-changed state back into a fist. His opponent looked up and his eyes widened at the approach, monocle falling from it's place before his eye.
For once, the Gentleman did not parry the blow. He did not move with it to negate damage, he didn't dodge it, he didn't alter the flow of time...he merely took the powerful uppercut straight to his chin, his body sent flying into the air. Isaac held his posture, fist still raised in the air, panting as the charge finally flickered away into nothingness. His ears picked up the sound of footsteps coming to a halt even as his head raised up, his eyes tracking the body's trajectory through the air.
The Tenth Class, body seemingly limp, shook himself out of his daze, reaching for his umbrella and with a well-practiced move that seemed more in line with fantasy than reality, gently glided down, using his open weapon as a parachute. His landing was soft but all the same the veteran fell to one knee, wheezing, head bowed down.
When he looked up again, he saw the entirety of Team Fortress standing, weapons at the ready, Isaac at the front of them all, sweat on his face as he levelled Vengeance down at the Englishman. His voice was slightly less steady than before, but it was still strangely calm and polite, with a good measure of reserve as he addressed the Engineer and his team.
"I seem to have overlooked a crucial detail yet again. A shame you weren't able to use that charge before I trapped you in my Temporal Field, that would have certainly made things interesting. Alas, just because you have the perfect tools to negate your foe don't mean you get the chance to use them perfectly."
The former RED's face briefly frowned, having come to the same conclusion himself, wincing slightly. It faded and he glanced at the rest of his team, their state of health varied, and saw that Nils was already taking care of the any damage they had suffered. His eyes met Dell's and the other Engineer nodded.
Turning back to the Gentleman, Isaac's words were short and to the point:
"We want answers."
The Englishman smiled, light returning to his eyes even as his body remained deadly still, all too aware that a single twitch could get him killed.
"Don't we all, Sir Howard? Excellent performance by everyone today, you've given us a lot of useful data to work with. I look forward to working with all of you in the future."
Before anyone could question the enigmatic man, the sound of many cloaking devices deactivating distracted them, as did the sight of various complex bundles of machinery loaded with sensors rising into the air, some by rotors, others by thrusters and some seemingly all of their own accord. With a series of beeps and whirs, the machines that had been recording every aspect of the battles today vanished in a burst of white light, temporarily blinding the mercenaries.
Blinking and squinting, they could just make out the figure of the Gentleman as he stood up, waved and likewise disappeared in a smaller flash, leaving them alone with only his last words as an answer:
"Cheerio chaps!"
###
Bathed in darkness, the only light coming from the countless monitors displaying the world and the cigarette in her mouth, the Administrator waited. She was not known to be patient or forgiving, but there was one underling of hers, that were she a lesser being, she might have said she even had some degree of respect for.
And it was he, just as she was starting to feel annoyance come on, that quietly but confidently entered her lair, replacement monocle shining in the shadows. He walked with a strength that was unexpected for someone of his age, especially after combat with minimal medical treatment.
The Gentleman halted at his master's desk, gently placing down a stack of folders, neatly organised to perfection, for her to consider at her leisure.
"We were able to meet our expectations with regards to data on both the latest project and the rogue mercenaries. It is being decoded and analysed as we speak."
Helen swivelled to face the Englishman, her face as severe as ever as she tapped her cigarette against the ash tray, giving the stack of folders at best a momentary glance before her gaze homed in on her subordinate. He didn't flinch from her gaze or otherwise react, his face the definition of professional calm.
"...and you, William? What are your observations on the fools who call themselves 'Team Fortress'?"
The Tenth Class and Master of Time paused for a moment before replying, making sure that his response was accurate, honest and informative.
"...prior to the fall of RED team, they were merely dangerous. Now, however, they are a serious and legitimate threat that could potentially end everything. The failure of the experimental clones was not a failure of the R&D department. Had the grey team faced the RED and BLU of old, I daresay both teams would have been annihilated. They have simply become too strong; especially the one assigned the name 'Isaac Howard'..."
"Explain yourself."
Her order was short, sharp and to the point. The Administrator was not fond of unnecessary verbosity, but it was something she had grown to accept from the idiots around her.
"In today's confrontation, even without his higher abilities available, he was able to honestly keep up with me in combat. His resistance to the Temporal Field was minimal, but he has proven to be able to survive even the darkest hour and be able to turn the tables on his foes. The team is individually made up of some of the most powerful individuals, but united together, especially with this demon amongst them..."
He paused, for the first time looking away from Helen, opting to wipe his monocle of dust instead before replying, gaze still shying away from her.
"...well, frankly, milady, I am doubtful of your victory, especially if any further resources are spent trying to subdue them. If I may be so bold as to say so, any attempt we make to do so will fail. It is possible perhaps for me to eliminate a few if I were to unleash myself fully at them, but-"
"No."
She interrupted him tersely, cold steel in her eyes. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, mere imagination, but the slightest bit of warmth (or rather, a decrease in coldness) crept into her features as she looked over her subordinate, her tool, her servant of war.
"You are too valuable a piece to lose at this stage. Regardless of the threat they pose, I still have use for you yet, William."
Surprise was clearly visible as the Gentleman processed this but he quickly changed to his neutral mask and bowed.
"As you wish. How else may I be of service?"
The Announcer span away, her back to him as she observed the monitors once more, closing her eyes as she took a deep draw from her cigarette. Blowing the smoke into the air, the haze rising through the darkness, her voice took on a chilly edge, even more so than usual.
"Leave me. And tell Miss Pauling that I expect to hear from her about our test data within an hour, nevermind how long the analysis takes. Am I clear?"
A single bead of sweat on his brow was the only sign of discomfort that would have given him away had she been facing him. Not that it mattered, she always knew anyway.
"Of course."
No further words were wasted as he turned to leave the room, the Master of Time glancing at the watch he treasured so dearly, lost in the past.
###
On a battlefield in the middle of nowhere, ten men recover and question each other, seeking both solace and answers.
On a battlefield where much blood has been shed, nine corpses lie, mirrors that have been broken free of their madness.
On a battlefield far away in both space and time, a younger man cries in regret and pain, knowing a hard future lies ahead.
For fate has no master and the many branching paths of destiny know no end.