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"Are ya absolutely sure this is a good idea doc?" Engineer asked, glancing from Scout to Medic. "Ah mean, is it alright to send him back on the field."
"Dell, the question is not if he should be on the field but if we can keep him off the field." Medic replied from his position in the driver's seat, his eyes not leaving the wet and windy road before him. The weather had taken a bad turn an hour or so ago, making driving on the dirt road a treacherous task.
The rest of the team was crammed into the back space of Medic's ambulance, each class at their usual pre-battle rituals. Scout was jammed between heavy, who was caressing his minigun and Sniper, who was re-stringing his bow. Scout had taken off his hand wraps and was examining his hands before putting some fresh bandages on. The only one not doing anything was Spy, who was sitting up against the van's doors, a dark blue trench coat folded across his lap as he tried his best not to touch or acknowledge pyro (who was cleaning a flickering red neon sign).
Scout turned his attention back to his hands. They were calloused from years of baseball and a faint scar was barely visible on the palm of his right hand. Pulling a fresh roll of gauze out of his pocket, he began to wrap this hands back up. His wrists hurt from the constant recoil of his gun and while the bandages helped, nothing could fully negate the effect his gun's kickback had in his wrists.
"Hey hardhat," Scout called, attracting the texan's attention. "Don't sweat it pal, I'll be-"
The van was suddenly lit up as from outside, a peal of thunder crashing through the bostonian's sentence. Scout let out a small yelp of surprise, but it was overshadowed by Sniper as he suddenly jumped up, kukri in hand.
"What the bloody hell was that?!"
"So the bushman is scared of a little thunder?" Spy smiled.
"No! Bloody thing surprised me, that's all ya spook." Sniper sat down and sheathed the knife, still visibly shaken by the noise.
"Oh, the freaking australian is scared of thunder!" Scout sniggered.
"Every man's afraid of something."
"What the freaking hell's thunder gonna do to ya? Bite ya?"
"Watch it mate."
"Watch it? Why? Whaddya gonna do to me? Throw ya piss at me?"
"Scout, I killed a bloody croc with these hands."
"Well then, come at me pal! Or are ya too scared the thunder's gonna jump out and bite ya?"
"You bloody well asked for-"
"No fighting in the van!" Medic suddenly yelled shrilly from the front seat. "And if you do not do as you are told, I vill not be healing you today!"
Scout and Sniper quickly sat down, not wanting to risk that punishment. The van was suddenly silent, save for the constant barrage of rain and the occasional clap of thunder.
"Ach, bloody awful weather." Demoman said, finally breaking the silence.
"Weather is not good for fighting." Heavy agreed, looking up from his gun. "Too much water."
Pyro let out a muffled noise of agreement, its shoulders drooping as if in disappointment.
"Aww man, are seriously going to fight in this?" Scout whinned, his attention suddenly drawn to the van's windows. "I can't run in this!"
The van suddenly stopped with a lurch and everyone in the back (with the exception of Spy) was suddenly thrown off the bench they were all onto the floor.
Moments later, the back doors opened and a rush of wind and pelting rain suddenly flooded the van, drenching everyone within with a downpour of ice-cold water.
"Get up you MAGGOTS! This is not a PLAYGROUND!" Soldier yelled, jumping up and accidentally landing a heavy booted foot on Sniper's leg with a crack. "We move out NOW!" he then marched out of the van, stepping on the limbs of several more people as he did so. Pushing past Medic (who was valiantly trying to hold the door open against the gale), he marched off into the decrepit wooden blue base the vehicle was parked in front of.
Spy let out a small tsk of dissatisfaction and got up, slipping the trench coat on as he did so. Turning up the collar against the rain, he disappeared in a puff of smoke as he activated his cloaking watch.
Engineer soon followed, pulling out a blue toolbox he'd stowed away under the bench before he left the van. Heaving the metal box onto his shoulder he exited the van whistling some western tune as he disappeared into the wall of rain.
He was soon followed by the Pyro, but the firestarter seemed to lack the carefree-ness of both its usual disposition and its friend. Instead, it constantly jerked it head as if looking for something, the grip on its mêlée weapon pulling taut the rubber of its gloves as it exited the van.
Scout gave a small stretch and retrieved his roll of gauze from where it had landed in the sudden stop. Readjusting his bag strap, he looked out at the stretch of land between him and the (relative) comfort of the base beyond.
Looking out over it, Scout quickly estimated the distance to be about hundred or so yards (or, as Spy, Medic and Heavy insisted on calling it for some weird reason beyond Scout, metres). No matter how he did this, he knew that he'd end up soaking wet.
Scout lowered his body in preparation for a wild dash across the stretch before him. He'd done this before a dozen times back in high school (before he dropped out that was) – why would here be any different?
Scout sprang forward into the rain, his feet hitting the muddy ground several feet away from the van, suddenly realising why this was different from before.
Track meets weren't usually held on muddy roads in the middle of a thunderstorm.
He still ran forwards, his feet momentarily sinking into the wet earth before being jerked up again with each step. The thin canvas of his shoes offered no protection against the wet ground, each step soaking his feet in freezing water.
However, his run stopped as quickly as it began as Scout crossed the threshold from the pouring outside to the inside of the base.
He skidded to a halt, his cleated trainers offering little grip on the already wet bare wooden floor of the base. Panting from the unexpected exertion of running against both the wind and the mud, Scout opened his bag and fished out a pale blue can of soda.
The base in which he found himself in was only better than the outside in the regards that it wasn't raining here. The base was unexpectedly cold, with the only source of heat being a pathetically small old wooden oven which Pyro was desperately trying to keep alive. The building was lit by a handful of dying fluorescent lights, their blueish hue tinged with pink as the slowly dying bulbs emitted a flickering light.
The base had seen better days – that was for sure. Once upon a time, back in the 20s and 30s, the sawmill base had once been the main base of operations for BLU, right up until the accident of '34, where the team has hurriedly been relocated to the building now know as 2fort right outside Teufort.
Or something like that. Scout couldn't quite remember the date and the classic Medic might have embellished the details for storytelling sake and anyways, history had never been Scout's strong suit.
But now, all that remained of the base's glory days were artifacts. An old map marking operations long since passed hung on the wall, a photo showing the team that once resided here tacked up beside it. Their effects littered the room, unused and gathering dust – a well worn crowbar, the skeleton of an umbrella and the rusted corpse of a primitive sentry lay in the dark corners of the room, the people who once knew their stories long gone.
Scout swallowed and turned from the artifacts to the still alive members of their team. Pyro had finally managed to get a small blaze going in the oven, and Scout walked over to it, grateful for the heat it produced, no matter how dismal.
Sitting down before the yellow flame, he removed first his bag and then his sopping wet blue shirt, and then finally his shoes. Wringing out the articles of clothing as best as he could, he laid them down beside him with the (highly optimistic) hope that he could get them to dry before the match started. To his other side, Soldier sat examining his helmet.
"So...ya think we're gonna fight in this shitstorm?" The runner asked, jerking a thumb to the window and the thunderstorm raging outside.
"Private, you are an american soldier. That means you will fight wherever and whenever our glorious country demands." Soldier simply replied, his voice strangely quiet.
Scout shuddered. His voice, combined with his now visible eyes seemed to make the place just a bit more ominous and creepy.
He looked around the room in search of a more meaningful conversation. Spy leant against the oven smoking a cigarette, his trench coat still dripping with water. Pyro sat next to the open oven, close enough that it would have risked catching fire were it not for its flame retardant suit. Engineer sat a safe distance away from it, contemplating the rusted sentry in the corner. Heavy, and Demoman sat next to Soldier in front of the fire, each one stoically silent.
The door slammed shut as the last two classes finally entered the base. Sniper was limping from where Soilder had broken his leg and had an arm around Medic. His face was deathly pale with fear and his eyes were unusually wide underneath his sunglasses. Medic looked a bit better, but he was visibly shivering and his entire outfit was soaked as a result of having been outside the longest. He had a black bag around one shoulder, the nozzle of one of his medi-guns sticking out at one end. Setting the injured Australian on the floor, he got out the medigun and activated. There was the crackle of...something and a hiss of pain as the broken bone knitted back together.
Having done his job, Medic walked over to the fire and sat down, removing his sodden lab coat as he did so.
Scout, desperate for anything to break the silence, looked around once again for something to talk about.
Out the window, he could see the storm raging, the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the derelict complex. It was only four in the afternoon, but the world outside was dark, shrouded in the twilight sawmill was perpetually in.
Sniper hobbled over to the engineer, his freshly healed leg still sore from the break. As another clap of thunder sounded from outside, he started again, whipping out his knife again, only to put it away quickly.
Scout smirked and turned his head back to the fire. Something about the base seemed to dampen the atmosphere of the team, forcing their usual banter into silence as they sat in the cold building.
And then suddenly, the lights cut out, sending the entire base into darkness.
Changelog 5-6-16
+ added new chapter
/shorter, less story relevant chapter merely meant for setting the mood. Next chapter should come fairly soon-ish.
/American english is hard when you're an australian. also, this chapter was originally 500+ words longer due to me rambling on more in the paragraphs describing the map, so yay for pruning I guess?