The night sky was ablaze with the roar of gunfire, tracer rounds carving glowing streaks through the darkness as the REDs launched their full-scale attack on Shisuikan Fortress. Spotlights flickered desperately from the ramparts, their beams slicing through smoke and chaos, searching for the elusive enemy that had already breached their defenses.
Heavy stood atop a makeshift barricade, his minigun Sasha whirring as it spat a relentless storm of bullets into the Imperial ranks. "Hah! Run, little men!" he bellowed over the deafening roar of battle, mowing down a squad of defenders who had foolishly attempted to charge his position. Empty casings piled around his feet, a testament to his unwavering control over the battlefield.
Around him, the Heavy Squad, composed of battle-hardened mercenaries clad in reinforced armor, moved with brutal efficiency. "Hold ze line!" Heavy roared, his deep voice cutting through the gunfire. His men took formation behind portable shields, providing cover for the advancing Demoman Squad, who lobbed explosive volleys over their heads.
An Imperial lieutenant attempted to rally his troops, only for Heavy to focus Sasha's wrath on them. "No more running for you!" he snarled, turning the officer and his unit into a mist of blood and metal. The squad followed his lead, firing their oversized shotguns and laying down suppressive fire to ensure the enemy had no chance to regroup.
A war horn blared as a fresh wave of Imperials charged, pikes and shields gleaming under the night sky. Heavy's grin widened. "Let them come! We crush them all!" he declared, slamming a fresh belt of ammunition into Sasha as his squad prepared for the next wave.
From a sniper's perch high in the ruins of a shattered tower, Sniper exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger. A sharp crack split the air, and an Imperial officer crumpled mid-shout, the back of his skull erupting in a fine mist. "One shot, one wanker down," he muttered, swiftly adjusting his scope to find his next target.
His Sniper Squad had fully established their deadly perimeter, each marksman positioned with perfect line-of-sight over key enemy movements. "Stay patient, lads. Make 'em count," Sniper instructed, scanning for the next high-value target. His squad responded with silent precision, trained eyes tracking enemy officers and siege engineers scrambling to organize defenses.
Sniper noticed a heavily armored commander barking orders near the central courtyard. "Right, you're next," he whispered. He adjusted for distance, wind, and target movement before squeezing the trigger. The commander's helmet did little to stop the round, his head snapping back as his lifeless body collapsed. The troops around him hesitated, glancing up in terror.
"That's your cue, boys. Keep 'em guessing," Sniper radioed. His squad followed up with synchronized shots, eliminating officers, standard-bearers, and key logistical units, further disrupting the enemy's ability to counterattack.
A watchtower sniper attempted to return fire, barely managing to get a bead on Sniper's position before a round from one of his men silenced him permanently. "Nice shot. That's what I like to see," Sniper acknowledged. He took a breath, lining up his next kill. The battlefield below was turning into a massacre, and he was ensuring it stayed that way.
Below him, the Sniper Squad, a squad of RED marksmen trained in precision eliminations, had taken up concealed positions along the ruins and fortress walls. "Oi, keep your eyes peeled for officers and heavy units. We drop them first," Sniper ordered through his radio, his voice calm and controlled. His team responded with a series of quiet acknowledgments before continuing their systematic culling of high-priority targets.
A group of Imperial crossbowmen attempted to take cover behind sandbags, hoping to counter the RED snipers. Sniper clicked his tongue. "Bad move, mate." He adjusted his aim, fired twice in quick succession, and watched as two of them dropped, their helmets offering no protection against his high-caliber rounds.
"Keep suppressing fire on their watchtowers. No spotters, no reinforcements," Sniper directed, watching as his squad carried out his orders with ruthless efficiency. Every shot counted, every kill precise. The RED sharpshooters ensured that the enemy was blind, disoriented, and unable to mount an effective counterattack.
Below, Scout darted through the battlefield with blinding speed, weaving between cover as he closed in on the fortress's outer gates. A squad of enemy riflemen tried to pin him down, but he vaulted over a supply crate and unloaded both scatterguns into them before they could react. "Too slow, pal!" he taunted, flipping his bat between his fingers as he pushed forward.
Behind him, the Scout Squad—a squad of fast-moving, close-quarters specialists—followed his lead, utilizing speed and agility to outmaneuver the heavier Imperial forces. "Alright, boys, keep it tight! We hit 'em fast, hit 'em hard!" Scout barked over the radio, weaving between incoming fire. His troops, armed with scatterguns, pistols, and melee weapons, struck with ruthless precision, carving a path through the enemy lines.
Spotting a cluster of Imperial gunners setting up a defensive position, Scout grinned. "Nah, ain't lettin' that happen." He signaled his squad to flank, vaulting over a low wall as he lobbed a Mad Milk bomb at the defenders. The liquid splashed across their armor, weakening them just as his troops stormed in, cutting them down in a flurry of scattergun blasts and rapid-fire strikes.
An Imperial captain attempted to rally his men at the gate, but before he could issue an order, Scout was already on him. With a blur of motion, he closed the distance, cracked his bat across the officer's helmet, then finished him with a point-blank shot to the chest. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he muttered, reloading on the move.
His squad pressed forward, driving deep into the enemy ranks, overwhelming them with relentless speed and aggression. The fortress gates were close, and Scout had every intention of being the first through.
Within the fortress walls, Spy and a group of infiltrators—clad in darkened RED mercenary gear—moved like ghosts through the corridors, knives flashing in the dim light. A lone sentry turned a corner and barely had time to scream before Spy's balisong pierced his throat. "Tsk tsk… no alarms for you, mon ami," Spy whispered as he laid the body down silently and signaled for the others to advance.
Medic, however, was orchestrating the chaos with a different approach. Leading the Medic Squad, he moved through the battlefield with a manic grin, Perfector's mechanical appendages lashing out with surgical precision. "Ach, mein soldiers! Keep pushing! If you fall, I vill put you back together, ja?" he called, his voice a chilling mix of encouragement and insanity.
A squad of Imperial troops attempted to silence him, breaking through the lines in a desperate push. Medic cackled, stepping forward as Perfector's limbs extended. "Ah, fresh patients! Let us see vhat makes you tick!" The Teigu's claws shot forward, piercing armor and flesh alike, draining their vitality in mere seconds. The dying men screamed, but Medic only hummed cheerfully, tossing their lifeless bodies aside.
The Medic Squad worked tirelessly behind the front lines, ensuring the wounded REDs remained in fighting shape while letting the enemy suffer. The presence of their terrifying commander ensured that no RED soldier stayed down for long—but no Imperial soldier would leave the battlefield alive.
RED squads, now an organized force resembling an army, moved systematically through the fortress. The Pyro Squad ignited defensive barricades with their homemade flamethrowers, sending plumes of fire licking at the stone walls. Pyro, leading the charge, let out a muffled giggle as they unleashed torrents of flame, watching the enemy scatter in panic. "Mmmph!" they exclaimed, twirling their flamethrower before dousing another squad in searing fire.
Behind Pyro, the Incendiary Division moved with eerie coordination, their flames turning every defensive stronghold into an inferno. "Burn everything that ain't wearin' RED!" one of Pyro's lieutenants shouted. Explosions of heat and fire engulfed the fortress gates, forcing Imperial soldiers to abandon their posts or perish in the blaze.
Spotting an enemy heavy unit trying to push through the flames, Pyro let out an excited squeal and charged forward, axe raised high. The terrified soldier barely had time to react before the weapon struck home, his screams drowned out by the roaring fire around him. Pyro clapped excitedly before turning to their squad, giving an energetic thumbs-up. Their troops mirrored the gesture before advancing deeper into the fortress, fire consuming everything in their wake. The Engineer Squad deployed rapidly-assembling sentries at key choke points, turning corridors into kill zones. Engineer, overseeing the operation with a calculating eye, adjusted his goggles and smirked. "Alright, boys, keep them turrets hummin'!" he barked, twirling his wrench before slamming it onto a sentry, upgrading it in an instant.
Under his command, squads of combat engineers moved in well-coordinated teams, each tasked with fortifying strategic positions. "Keep dispensers up! Ammo and health for everyone!" Engineer reminded as his crew set up a network of support stations, ensuring the RED troops maintained pressure without slowing down.
Seeing a choke point about to be overrun, Engineer quickly deployed his Shambala-enhanced portal hand, phasing through the battlefield and emerging near an unfinished sentry. With a swift flick of his wrench, it was operational within seconds, cutting down the incoming wave before they could break through. "Heh, you ain't gettin' past ol' Engie," he chuckled as his squad reinforced the bottleneck, forcing the Imperials into a brutal kill zone.
The Demoman Squad pounded enemy positions with sticky bombs and grenades, reducing fortified sections to rubble. Demoman, standing atop a pile of debris with a jug of scrumpy in one hand and his grenade launcher in the other, laughed heartily as another explosion sent enemy troops flying. "Aye, now that's what I call a proper boom!" he bellowed.
His squad operated with deadly efficiency, coordinating their explosive barrages to dismantle defensive positions. "Keep yer charges staggered, lads! Don't be givin' 'em time to breathe!" Demoman ordered, hurling a sticky bomb cluster onto a fortified barricade. With a click of the detonator, the structure erupted into a storm of fire and shrapnel, leaving a gaping hole for the RED troops to advance through.
A squad of Imperial shield-bearers attempted to push forward, using their armor to block incoming fire. Demoman grinned, took a swig from his jug, then lobbed a perfectly-timed grenade over their formation. It landed behind them, detonating with a deafening blast and sending bodies sprawling. "Och, shields don't do much when the explosion's behind ya!" he quipped, watching the battlefield with an approving nod as his squad continued their relentless artillery fire.
Despite their initial resistance, the Imperials found themselves outmatched and outgunned. The REDs had momentum, their sheer unpredictability and firepower overwhelming the rigid, disciplined formations of the defenders.
From atop the central keep, a war horn blared, signaling the arrival of Shisuikan's last elite forces. The battle was far from over.