. . .
Bubo watched as Cyril's teammates exited the prison cell with the older couple in tow. Scout had reactivated his disguise but was still nervous about giving the marksman a weapon; he still didn't trust that the Cyril would flip out again and kill them. Well, at least Pyro and him.
"Give me a gun," Cyril thrust out his hand to an apprehensive Scout.
"Nah, no way! I ain't gonna risk havin' our heads get blown off if ya turn psycho again!"
Sighing, the marksman assured him, "Look, if I start to lose it again, Pyro here can stop me with their flare gun. They can walk behind me." He eagerly glanced over at the arsonist. "Did you also bring your flame thrower?"
Maybe getting burned would snap Cyril out of his murderous rampage of attacking any person he imagined was a RED mercenary. Pyro nodded, reaching behind their back and holding onto something invisible. Hearing the click of a switch, their stock weapon re-materialized. It was resting behind the right side of their back, secured together with a sturdy chest strap.
Cyril saw an Invisiwatch attached to the strap, letting out a small chuckle. "Another disguise? Spy must've been in a generous mood if he was handing out all his devices like candy."
"Uh, yeah." Scout grinned and started sweating.
"Scout stole them," Pyro blurted out.
"Py, your dumbass!" Now the runner looked mortified.
Cyril snorted. "Well, not my problem when we return to the base. You could've asked nicely."
"Oh, like he would've just lent them out to me that easily," Scout retorted, gesturing with one hand in annoyance. "He probably would've made me sing the French anthem first."
Cyril then noticed another prisoner watching them from his former adjacent cell. He had completely forgotten all about Rade. Immediately, he felt a revulsion from looking at a face so familiar to him in such a horrible, sick way.
"Cyril…" Rade looked too astounded to notice the marksman's disdain. "Is this a rescue?"
To his surprise, Cyril's rational side wrestled with his emotionally disturbed one. It was nearly taking control, and so he gulped down a breath. This wasn't Tarjack. It was his clone whom he had also mercilessly tortured. Except, where there was hatred and evil in Tarjack's onyx eyes, Rade's were soft and sincere.
His hair was longer as well, and he looked a bit thinner and gaunt around the face. No doubt from being slowly starved by his hated twin. There were nasty bruises, cuts and burn marks all over his body; his left arm had been branded with the Hydra symbol, designating him as personal 'property.'
He's just as much a victim as I am, Cyril thought.
Trying to batten down his disgust at the whole matter, he managed a nod. "Yep. These are my friends. We're going to get you outta here too."
Tremendous relief flooded Rade. "Oh, thank god…!"
Again, Cyril felt that strange kinship that resonated with the other clones. They were all in this together. Scout got to work on unlocking the door to Rade's enclosure; afterwards, the older man stepped out, still not believing that they were getting a chance to escape.
Rade grew puzzled when he noticed the two aliens. "Uhhh…who are they?"
"What, you never seen 'Earth vs. The Flying Saucers' before?" Felicia quipped.
"Are they...aliens?"
"We're Greys," one of them replied "We'd introduce ourselves individually, but it's hard for you humans to pronounce our names. So, just call me Mac."
"And me, Tosh," the other alien said, before furrowing his brow ridges. "I feel a connection with you, Mr. Rade."
A few seconds passed, and Rade seemed to relax now. "Yes…it's like…I know you two."
Tosh glanced at his partner. "He's one of them, like Mr. Scout and his teammates here."
"Wait, you're a clone too?" Scout asked, awed.
Rade nodded. "Yes…are you one?"
"Yeah! I've never met another clone outside of my team and Felicia, so this is kind of cool."
Jonathan turned to his wife, scratching his head. "Marth, ya think we're in the Twilight Zone with all this yappin' about clones, Jekyl & Hyde and aliens?"
"As long they can help us rescue our baby, they can be Dracula or Bigfoot for all I care!" Martha replied.
"The secrets the government keeps from us," Sergio grumbled, before narrowing his eyes at the aliens. "Are you two psychic? You seem to know some of these hombres are clones."
"We have some degree of ESP," Tosh answered.
Cyril was about to inquire if they had something to do with his enigmatic dreams, when Scout urged, "C'mon, let's get outta here!"
The marksman figured he would inquire about it later; he was curious if they knew about Project BLU or other similar experiments from TF Industries.
"We could pretend we're taking you to another part of the facility," Sergio suggested, throwing a cautious glance at the cell door that connected the room to the outside corridor. "The east wing. We can exit the building without any suspicion. There are two backdoors that lead to outside."
"Not without the other prisoners," Cyril insisted.
"Look, amigo, it's not wise to play hero when you're facing fifty gun barrels in your face from Hydra agents. We have to call the police! Hell, probably the FBI and National Guard as well."
"I won't let these civilians suffer another minute."
"But we could all get killed!"
"Eh, just you, the aliens and the old fogies," Scout reassured. "The rest of us? Nah." He gestured over to Felicia, Pyro and Bubo. "We all got temporary revivers in case one of those assholes blows us away."
"If you fear for your life, you don't have to join us. I appreciate your willing to risk loyalty to that madman in helping us." Cyril turned to Scout. "If only the others had come along with you. We may have been able to deal a major blow to this facility and Gital's thugs."
Now Scout looked a bit uncomfortable, knowing he made an error in judgment caused by his disastrous hubris. "Uh yeah…" He then perked up, grinning stupidly. "Why didn't I think of that?"
Cyril eyed him, suspicious. "Scout? Did you and Pyro just leave the base without involving the others in this?"
"No, no!" Scout denied, waving his hands in defense. "It's just that...uh.."
"He did," Pyro blurted out. "All because he wanted to brag about finding you first if some reward was offered-"
Scout immediately covered the firebug's mouth. "Can it, loose lips!"
"Shouldn't we be getting the hell out of here?" Sergio reminded them.
"Right. Okay, Felicia and Mumbles, you still pretend your prisoners," Scout ordered.
"Great, I'm a good actress at that," Felicia replied sarcastically, as the bat slugger moved to retie the ropes around her and Pyro's wrists. Afterwards, he glanced over at the other prisoners.
"Okay, uhh, get in the front and pretend your hands are bound or something. I ran outta rope."
"Not to worry." Martha pulled a packet of rubber bands from her cardigan sweater. "We could use these!"
"Of course," Sergio observed. "The guards don't care about simple household items when searching prisoners for weapons."
"Yeah, I'm surprised they let me keep me dentures and skin tag remover tool," Jonathan said. "They took a replacement button for me trousers though. Don't know what that was all about."
"If it was Tabari, he's obsessed with sowing items," Sergio dryly remarked.
. . .
The RED team had arrived at their intended destination of destruction. There were a few mishaps, such as Heavy having to lie to Soldier that he ran over a fur coat when it was two raccoons he accidentally flattened on the road. Although he felt somewhat bad about it, he still blamed those animals for running right out in front of the brown van; he barely had time to swerve around before he felt the horrific sounds of the squished flesh and bone.
He felt comforted though by the others in the back discussing the strategic plan to rescue Sniper's parents. It also helped that Medic brought additional healing equipment for each teammate, like the health packs and Überspritzes. They all didn't know what to expect, but if it was anything to go by what Mick and the captured henchman told them about Hydra, it was going to be an outright bloodbath – most of these criminals were violent, with no morals and a horrid depravity worth the Devil's approval.
Nothing we can't handle, Heavy thought, fondly reminiscing over their war with BLU.
He'd just have different targets to mow down with Sasha or stomp them out like annoying bugs. Soldier, being the self-proclaimed leader of the group, had joined the other REDs in the back to put his own two cents in with how they planned to carry out the attack. Of course, there was pushback from the others, particularly Spy and Mick, on how they were going to infiltrate the enemy's headquarters first.
Disagreeing with Soldier was useless though, as he always got his way whenever he exercised the "influence control" over them; it's been like this for a year now. But it's a good thing he couldn't use it on anyone else, like the civilians or BLU Team. Merasmus's control pills could only work on a limited number of people, at least up to thirteen.
It was unanimously decided that Spy and Heavy would disguise themselves as Stan and Jorgis. They would then drive up to the former county jail with Mick in tow. The others, including the civilian volunteers, would stay back until the signal was given for them to aid the mercenaries.
Spy had already made up a story about the missing henchmen stopping by a local diner. The real Stan and Jorgis were moved to the Lincoln Continental, driven by Padilla and his associates.
After both vehicles stopped just several thousand feet from the county jail, Spy exited the van and walked up to the Lincoln.
"You sure you want to involve yourselves in zis?" he warned Padilla and the others. "Zis could be your last day alive."
The older man tipped his fedora hat. "Heh. I'm a veteran. It's nothing messy I haven't gotten myself into before. If it means giving up my life so Sniper could have his parents back and rescue the other poor folks taken prisoner, it's all worth it. Besides…" He whipped out a notebook of plain, white paper. "Can I have your autograph? My son and daughter are not gonna believe I hung out with the world's most famous mercs that raise hell all over the West!"
Spy groaned. Meanwhile, inside the van, Mick's hands were being bound by rope and his mouth gagged by a bandana, courtesy of Demoman.
"I won't make it too tight on ya, lad," the bomb expert assured.
"Thanks," Mick gravely replied.
"Just enough to free yerself when the time comes tae start spillin' blood."
"Oh, there's gonna be buckets of it," the assassin vowed, a dark, murderous fire in his eyes. "No mercy for fuckin' with me family."
Spy had returned to the van and transformed into his 'Stan' disguise. A few minutes later, the vehicle arrived at the front of Gital's hideout. Eddie and five other guards approached them. Spy noted how he wore a bullet-proof vest, a belt of grenades, a knife in its sheath, and a Winchester 363 pistol in one of his gloved hands. Sucking in a breath, the Frenchman stepped out of vehicle.
"Hello, Eddie," he greeted, sounding pleased. "We got the Aussie bastard. Jorgis?"
Heavy, now impersonating Jorgis, stepped off the other side and walked to the back of the vehicle. Unlocking the double doors, he callously grabbed and pulled out Mick.
"Wakey, wakey, Mundy," Heavy/Jorgis taunted.
"Where's the others?" Eddie demanded.
Spy/Stan shrugged. "They went off to The Cactus Stop to get something to eat."
"Who told them they could do that?" Now Eddie's controlled façade quickly changed to rage.
'Stan' let out a careless chuckle. "You know Sorenson…he thinks he's the honcho with big balls in the group. I suppose he figured since we already captured Mundy, they could go bullshit around for a bit."
"So, Sorenson and the others are shirking their duties with communications?" Eddie demanded. "What about checking to see if anyone followed you back here? I don't trust that snake, Mundy."
"Not to worry," Spy/Stan waved it off. "We didn't see anyone so far on the road. And if they do come here, we could easily take them out with our own Uzis and Bazookas."
"Those mercenaries are bad news," another henchman warned. "I wouldn't underestimate them."
"If they don't want us killing Mundy's family, then they won't be stupid enough to attack us," Spy countered. "After all, I don't think he would forgive his teammates if they did so."
Heavy/Jorgis was now pushing Mick around the van to face them. Eddie glowered at the assassin, savoring the fact that he was now in their grimy hands.
"So, the infamous son of a Valor 12 prick that Gital hates so much," he sneered.
Mick glared daggers at him, already imagining slashing this deviant criminal to ribbons with his Kukri.
"What a man won't do for the ones he loves," Spy/Stan remarked. "That's a weakness none of us have. Who'd have thought these seemingly amoral mercenaries would have such a vulnerable soft underbelly?"
"Since when did you get so reflective, Stan?" another guard mocked.
"I've always been, I just don't show it," Spy answered with a grin.
"Well, Tarjack's gonna be mighty happy when he sees we got the real Sniper," the first henchman gloated. "Who knows how long the fake one's going to stay alive with all the fun shit Tarjack's been doing to him?"
Spy caught on to this. So, the BLU Sniper was also here. It baffled him why they would bother kidnapping him when his RED counterpart was their legit target. As he briefly contemplated the reasons behind it, there came a sudden shout of alarm.
"What the hell?!" Eddie exclaimed, raising his pistol.
Spy turned his to his left as a familiar figure had stepped out of the van.
"SCREAMING EAGLES!"
Soldier was bounding towards them and fired off his rocket launcher. It hit two of the guards, instantly blowing them to pieces.
"SHIT!" one of them yelled, firing off his M-15 gun at the helmet-clad mercenary.
The bullets had no effect on Soldier, as after his last death, he was getting stronger than before…
"What?" Spy blurted out, shocked. Oh, merde! Soldier, you fucking idiot!
They weren't supposed to attack the facility yet! Mick was just as surprised as he dodged a flying limb from one of the guards killed.
"You bloody dumb fuck!" he yelled through the muffled cloth tied around his mouth.
Another rocket was fired off, this time shattering into the building itself. From afar, Padilla was observing the pandemonium unfolding through his binoculars. Officer Sayers and few other civilians stood beside him.
"Well? Did they give the signal to attack?" the policeman queried.
"Yep, they sure did," Padilla replied, enthusiastic.
"Well, if we don't make it out alive, it was nice knowing you," one civilian chimed in.
"Ah, don't you worry. I'm sure my wife will give you a warm welcome with her famous banana nut bread on the other side."
. . .
Mac put his slender, translucent hands out as Martha tied a few rubber bands around them. Tosh, Rade and Jonathan awaited their turns as well.
"You sure have such smooth skin," Martha complimented the Grey. "What's your secret, if I may ask?"
The alien glanced down, blinking a few times. "Nothing. We just evolved this way."
"Lucky you, lad. The closest thing we have on this planet to soft skin is babies."
"Try the toe beans on newborn kittens," Felicia chimed in.
"Ahhh, right, dear! Those insufferable critters never reveal their secrets either!" Martha remarked, slightly miffed.
After she was finished binding everyone's wrists together, Cyril held out his hand again to Scout, expecting the weapon. Although the markman's eyes showed a deep trust that the young man was familiar with, he was still hesitant. But then, he thought of Bubo. After a moment, Scout reached into his invisible knapsack.
"Here." He thrusted a Beretta 70 in Cyril's hand, muttering, "I hope I don't regret this."
"Thanks."
Turning to Bubo, who was still observing their actions from the ground, Scout gestured with a nodding finger. "Brownie, ya better keep Snipes on a tight leash, ya hear?"
Perplexed, the raptor glanced up to Cyril. "Uhhh, what's he saying now?"
"He wants you to keep an eye on me in case I…you know…get scary."
Bubo understood well, having witnessed his friend go through several psychosis episodes, involving paranoia, hallucinating, and panic attacks that lead Cyril to try to kill his teammates by stabbing or using his weapons on them.
It was only when Bubo was nearby that Cyril always snapped out of his frenzied state, realizing with horror at what he just did. They were not the REDS and yet, in his delusional mind, they indisputably were. The imaginary REDS were always about to kill him, so he struck back, as he normally would in battle. Bubo was always frightened of seeing his friend in such a disturbing way.
"I won't let you down, my friend. We're going to get through this!"
Like before, Cyril felt comforted by those warm, confident words. Bubo was the only one who kept him sane and stable. Where would the sharpshooter be if he didn't have his owl friend?
And so, they all exited the room and started walking down the corridor. This area didn't contain any prison cells, but a left turn up ahead would. Pyro was braced to incapacitate Cyril if he suddenly turned on them, while Scout was tasked with the similar decision to subdue Sergio in case he also reverted back to his evil, sober persona.
It was a dangerous line to walk, but Scout kept silently begging it wouldn't be the case with both unstable men until they exited the building.
Hopefully Felicia and Rade would be able to help stop them, so just for good measure, Scout gave them their own Berettas.
"Now, be sure to hide'em in your pockets," he told them.
"I haven't fired one in a few days," Rade commented, carefully depositing the gun in his side pocket, despite the rubber bands around his wrists. He paused, looking alarmed. "No…I never fired one at all. It must be…his memories…"
"I also have memories of the original person I was cloned from," Cyril admitted. "But I often experience them in my dreams."
"I'd rather not have them. So far, I've been lucky it's not visions of hurting someone. Tarjack's a fucking monster."
There was an irony hearing Rade, who's voice was indistinguishable from his tormentor, say that. It's like a better side of an evil person was pointing out who they really were. "The Devil's Double" as one saying goes.
Glancing at Rade's pathetic, emaciated form suddenly reminded Cyril of Athene. He had to rescue her! Funnily enough, he wondered if she was also a clone. She looked familiar at times, with her somewhat stern gaze and sharp features; except, Cyril had a feeling she didn't mean to project that slightly haughty look to everyone. She was kind, inquisitive and caring.
Athene, I'm coming for you too, he thought.
A heavy sympathy filled his heart at the horrific abuse she'd been through. He didn't know if she even wanted to live at this point. He didn't know what to do either, except make sure she got out of this dreaded hellhole.
"We have to free the others," Cyril reiterated.
"How are we gonna do that with Gital's roaches lurking around here?" Felicia asked. "I mean, we're outnumbered as it is."
"Ah, us BLU mercs will give'em a surprise!" Scout announced. "They're all probably light weights compared to the RED team. You and the others can unlock the jail doors and free'em while we hold them at bay. Then? Prison riot!"
"Without getting any of the prisoners killed," Cyril added.
"Yeah, yeah, so we need a defective diverchon."
"It's effective diversion," Pyro corrected.
"Yeah, whatever you said." Scout grinned, patting his invisible Scattergun slung over his shoulder. "If only Soldier were here to set off one of his rocket—"
BOOM!
Without warning, the wall in front of them burst open, chunks of stone, splintered wood and mortar tumbling to the floor. The force of the blast threw them all off their feet, as billows of smoke and dust arose from a new seven-foot gape in the wall.
"—launcher," Scout weakly finished.
"What the fucking hell?" Sergio exclaimed, having used one of his arms to shield himself from the falling debris.
Shaking his head to clear up a sudden ringing in his ears, Cyril glanced over at the heavily damaged wall. Exposing the outside, he could hear multiple gunshot noises and men shouting.
"Shit! I keep shooting him!" one henchman exclaimed. "Why won't he die?!"
"BOOM, BOOM, MAGGOTS!" a familiar voice hollered.
Without warning, another rocket torpedoed its way into the wall behind the group, setting off another deafening explosion. Instinctively, they all covered themselves from getting hit by the flying stone or shrapnel.
"Well, uh, I guess that's our answer," Scout remarked.
. . .
*Note: The chapter's title is inspired by a quote from a character, Susan Ivanova, of the old scifi series, Babylon 5.
The original was, "No boom today. Boom tomorrow. There's always a boom tomorrow."
. . .