Author's Notes & Apology:
Oh, where do I begin? To cut a long story short, a lot of Real Life (TM) has happened since the last chapter went up. A long run of illness, having to repeat a year of university, good ol' writer's block, family medical issues and the death of a close friend...well, I've simply not been in any state to write and the few times I have been able to...nothing good has come out.
And with my last chapter being kinda forced, pretty messy and not where I wanted it, I'd have liked to wait for a time I could maybe fix it up and then get cracking on the next. Needless to say, with everything that's come up, that got delayed and I'm not surprised by the queries as to whether this fic is dead or not.
I cannot say if I'll be able to continue. While a lot of the ideas for this fic remain with me, I've not been able to write anything for any subject in a long time. But it is definitely my intention to continue if I can. So, while I cannot give you wonderful people who've been reading and reviewing even after this long a new chapter, I can give you this update and a little preview of the next chapter.
It's incredibly rough, unfinished and was done very recently during a short respite, but hopefully it's better than nothing. Here's hoping I can continue with this in the near future.
The Last Engineer – Chapter 34 PREVIEW: Operation Invincible Turtles
Ewan scowled as he swept his gaze to the horizon, the smoke in the air preventing the sun's light from reaching this latest battlefield. He looks down at the empty bottle in his hand and sighs, throwing it to one side before walking away from the scene.
There'd been wave after wave of attackers but so far even with only himself, Ashley, and some automated defences protecting their new home, there'd been little challenge. The Administrator clearly was saving the best for last, but why?
The Demoman's sole eye narrowed, taking in the wreckage of the failed assaults, the acrid fumes, the countless bodies. Distractions to let their guard down, obstructions to limit their movement and their vision. Could they rely on the turrets to continue targeting if this worsened?
Before he could relay his thoughts to his teammates however, he felt something shift in the wind and threw himself to the side just in time to miss the mighty charge of a familiar figure.
Drawing his blade, the Scottish swordsman turned to face the Grey Demoknight, a ferocious smile gracing his lips. Took them long enough to send out the cheap imitations. They even gave the git a bottle of 1680 DeGroot's Rum hanging from his belt, a prize to be taken after his victory.
The Grey lunges forward in a heavy overhead blow that is sidestepped, Ewan's shield smashing upwards into the jaw of his mirror with enough force to break the clone's neck. That sharp crack is immediately followed by battlecries from around the corner heralding the rest of the wave.
Readying himself for the onslaught of bullets, explosives and suicidal melee rushes from his opponents, it seems contacting the others will have to wait...
###
Surrounded by bodies, flaming wreckage everywhere, the sky dark and the air deadly...some might say Ashley was in their element. The conditions of this battlefield didn't seem to slow the gas-masked mercenary, who was fighting with a fiery fierceness that would have been chilling to behold had anyone been alive to witness it.
The Greys, faces so familiar, perished just as easily as the rest, with no hesitation. If anything, the Pyro was extra rigourous in ensuring that every last one of them was dead. Skulls were blasted apart with buckshot, bodies were airblasted off cliffs, weapons were melted into slag from afar by precious streams...
...and still the copies came. With no fear, they died by the droves. Occasionally through the haze one could see heads flying free from their bodies where Ashley assumed Ewan was. What did it matter how many of the enemy there was or how hard it was to see?
The firebug was protecting their home. That was all that mattered.
Or at least, it was, until the dreadful drone of aircraft once again began to fill the air and the bombs dropped.
###
He didn't like being in here, deep in the inner sanctum of the base, but Isaac had no choice. As much as he'd rather be helping his team on the field, there was something vital he had to do to ensure their victory and all of his attention was focused solely upon completing that task as quickly as possible.
It was perhaps because of this single-minded focus that he missed some of the dire information the base's monitors was providing and it wasn't until his radio came to life that he was made aware of the outside world.
"What are ya bloody doing!? The anti-air batteries ain't seeing the enemy bombers through the smoke!"
Blinking rapidly, now alert, the Engineer checked his status screens and saw that it was so: the essential guardians to prevent air support decimating their defensive efforts seemed to be malfunctioning. But that didn't seem right, with the technology TF Industries invested into this base (and the quick upgrades Dell and himself had done) no amount of smoke should have done more than mildly inconvenience the targeting systems.
The sounds of explosions over the radio and Ewan clearly in combat seemed to make something click with Isaac and he almost kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. The Administrator was deploying clones of them...and who did he normally have to thank for his engineering woes?
Gritting his teeth, he turned his attention back to his work, uttering only a single word to the duo on the field, trusting them to take care of it:
"Spies."
###
Ashley and Ewan found each other as they ran through the battlefield, struggling to keep their pace with the first explosives being launched into the valley causing the ground to shake and yet more debris to be added to the chaotic scene. While their payloads were low, presumably launched from helicopters or fighter craft, as soon as the bombers flew overhead they would be forced to retreat underground unless they could bring the batteries back online.
It was too late for some of the structures. The pair skidded to a halt by the concealed entrance to Anti-Air 3. Well-fortified with its placement in the valley and so far undamaged externally, it was the most likely to escape notice from the air.
They shared a brief look, silently debating their options before nodding as Ewan entered the building and Ashley ran onwards to Anti-Air 1, the battery with the largest range and most firepower to its name.
Turning to look behind him and promising to rejoin the Pyro as soon as he was able, Ewan hurriedly laid down a few remote detonation pipebombs to cover his flank before searching the structure for signs of enemy intrusion. It didn't take long.
Sappers were haphazardly placed on almost everything electronical with little rhyme or reason (and a few on objects that were not, like door handles). It was a simple matter to destroy the annoyances that were actually affecting the targeting system.
Crushing the last one under his boot, the Scotsman made note of the rebooting systems, the clear lack of spies and decided to get this over with the quick way.
Making a big show of retrieving and opening the bottle of rum he'd acquired from his monochrome counterpart, he slowly raised the liquor to his mouth and shut his eye in anticipation of a good drink, muscles tensing unseen under his armour.
As predicted, several bodies materialised with a quiet shimmer, knives raised. In an instant the seemingly celebrating mercenary had whirled into motion, shattering the bottle on the nearest Spy, the shards tearing partially through the mask, drawing blood. The Grey assassin fell to the ground in agony, suit ruined and alcohol in his eyes.
The unfortunate Frenchman clone found his pain intensified as the Demoman slammed one boot onto the fallen man's chest, keeping him in place as he drew his sword to defend himself from the remaining foes.
The pen may be mightier than the sword, but the demolitions expert certainly proved that the sword was mightier than any number of knives, revolvers or fake Dead Ringer corpses the Spies could throw at him.
Cleaning the blood from his blade as the last one fell, he quickly double-checked for more trickery before observing the monitors. Seemed everything was more or less working again, the monitors were displaying the relative coordinates of some of the approaching craft but indicated that the actual targeting was still recalibrating itself.
Turning to leave and lend his support in the clearing out of the more vulnerable Anti-Air 1, Ewan was stopped short by a sudden alert. Swinging his head back, his eye widened in shock before he sprinted out of the building, putting some distance between himself and Anti-Air 3 before placing explosives by his feet and taking flight.
The alarms still blared across the base. The issue? A salvo of long-range air-to-surface missiles. The target? Anti-Air Battery 1.
###
The Spies had proven no problem to the pyromaniac, who'd exposed their cloaks and chased them with boundless energy. But the time of chasing and setting things alight was over. Currently Ashley was stood at the top of the anti-air battery, just below the might cannons, flamethrower aimed upwards, stance firm and ready.
Waiting.
Waiting for the attack that would destroy the recovering structure and leave the area at best only partially defended against the air. Battery 3 couldn't cover everywhere by itself.
They'd be forced to flee to the heart of the base and defend from there.
Waiting.
Waiting to die.
Waiting for their home to be lost.
For the rest of the team to come home to ruins and their corpses.
No.
The Pyro wouldn't allow it. They would not fail here, they'd buy time for Isaac and then they'd push the invaders out, striking them with such fear they'd never trespass again. Ashley had over the years become a master of deflecting projectiles and with the extra oomph of the upgraded compression blast, it should be fine, right?
Just like deflecting rockets from an airborne Soldier. Except the Soldier was too far away to see, fired much deadlier payloads, attacked faster and was also a plane. Maybe Ashley could convince Jane to rocket jump while wearing an airplane costume when this was all over? Doubtful.
As the destructive projectiles tear through the air, screaming death all the way, the lenses of a certain gas mask glint in the poor light. A black scottish cyclops rushes to his friend's aid, too late and unable to do much but watch as the smoke is broken apart by their velocity, a lone figure standing against them.
Facing death, the Pyro pulls the trigger.