Chapter 1: Boring-Ass Prologue
Chapter Text
(in which it becomes evident i should not write at 3 am)
Tuesday, November 9th, 1965
TEUFORT, NM
Clunk.
Spy lowered his book just enough to glance over it. Across from him, Scout and Pyro were both chortling to themselves. Pyro grabbed the baseball and flicked it across the table.
Once it reached Scout, he rolled it back, hitting Spy’s mug again in the process. Pyro and Scout resumed their quiet giggling.
“Would you cut it out?” hissed Spy.
Scout shook his head. “Aw, come on, Spy. We’re just playin’.”
“Huddah!” agreed Pyro.
“We deploy in fifteen minutes,” Spy grumbled, lifting his wrist to check the time. “Stop fooling around and eat.”
“I don’t see you eatin’ nothin’.”
Spy grit his teeth. “I already ate.”
“What, a whole cigarette?”
Shaking his head, Spy buried his face in his book again and tried to ignore the two morons across from him.
The smell of coffee wafted into the room, joined by stomping footsteps. Spy braced himself for impending yelling.
“GOOD MORNING, MAGGOTS!” Soldier bellowed, almost slamming his mug on the table.
Scout looked up from his bowl of cereal. “Hey, Soldier.”
“I have been awake for the majority of the night planning battle formations. Today is the day we send RED home crying to their mothers!” As Soldier sat down, he spread a roll of paper out in front of him.
“Aye, what’s that you’ve got there?” asked Demo, leaning over Soldier’s shoulder.
Soldier grinned. “Battle formations. Now all of you, pay attention!”
“Might wanna wait ‘til the whole team’s here for that, son,” said Engineer, shuffling into the room with a blueprint under his arm and two plates of food in either hand.
If Soldier had even heard Engineer’s advice, he certainly didn’t heed it, as he was already halfway through rambling about some new strategy he’d come up with entirely on his own.
Engineer took a seat next to Pyro, sliding one plate over to them. Once he was settled, he turned to Spy.
“Did ya get any update from Ms. Pauling on RED’s reinforcements?”
Spy glanced over his book at Engineer. “Yes. Once we’re all here, I’ll explain. It’s…unusual, but nothing we cannot handle,” he whispered back.
“Sounds good.”
“What’re you two whisperin’ about?” grunted Sniper, taking a seat next to Scout. “Somethin’ about reinforcements?”
“For us or them?” called Demo from across the table.
Scout looked up, his face drenched in milk and cereal bits. ”Huh?”
Engineer turned to face the occupants of the table. “Now, just a moment, folks. Medic an’ Heavy still ain’t here. Spy’ll explain when they are.”
“Hmm? You called?” Tired eyes and a set of glasses popped into view, poking out from the hallway.
Medic strolled into the room with Heavy lumbering at his heels. The two took their own seats at the table and began eating.
Seeing that the table was now full, Spy set down his book and cleared his throat.
“Everyone, I have important news,” he called. “Soldier, that means you as well.”
Soldier continued rambling, completely oblivious until Demo elbowed him. “Solly! I think Spy’s got somethin’ to tell us.”
“You don’t say,” Spy grumbled.
Soldier folded his arms. “Well, hurry up and say it! I’m not even halfway through explaining my plans here.”
“Ms. Pauling has informed me that RED will be deploying some new reinforcements today.”
“So what?” grunted Scout.
“They are robots.”
“You’re sayin’ that like it’s somethin’ I’m supposta care about.”
Medic leaned over the table to glance at Scout. “There is a difference between fighting humans and fighting robots.”
“No there isn’t. I run up to ‘em, I bash their skull in whether it’s made of bone or metal, and we win.”
“Scout, I will give you only this,” Spy paused to exhale, “yes, we have successfully fought robots before. But—”
“Somethin’ ain’t right about that,” muttered Engineer.
Pyro nodded. “Huddah huh.”
Sniper’s face scrunched up. “All of RED’s just been…gone for the whole bloody week, then they show up again with robots?”
“Precisely,” Spy hissed. “And the robots are the only ones they’re deploying.”
“So we’re fighting an all-bot army,” grunted Soldier. “I…might have to make a few minor modifications to this plan.”
“Ms. Pauling herself said she thought something seemed amiss. She will remain in contact with us to provide us with any additional information she can find. In the meantime, gentlemen — do not lower your guard.”
Scout scoffed, rolling his eyes. He poured what was left of his breakfast down his throat and tossed the resulting empty bowl back onto the table.
“PLEASE. There won’t be any need for guards in the first place when I’m through with those bots.”
“Scout, you will get yourself killed,” Spy said, rising to his feet.
“And I’ll just come back again and beat ‘em up again. Look, you guys are worried ‘bout nothin’. Just leave this one to me.”
Scout hopped up and left the room, leaving Spy to shake his head.
“Might as well just get ready, pardner,” Engineer muttered.
Spy reached into his suit, retrieving a cigarette and a lighter. “The rest of you, try to take this seriously. Ms. Pauling sounded…concerned.”
Heavy looked up at Spy from the other end of the table. “More than usual?”
“Yes…much more than usual.”
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“MISSON STARTS IN THIRTY SECONDS!”
“Is everyone ready?” Medic asked, glancing around at his fellow mercenaries.
“We are prepared, yes,” muttered Spy. “Once I am on the field I will slip past their defences and see if I can identify anything out of sorts.”
“Very good. Heavy, you and I will operate defensively, ja?”
Heavy said nothing, only nodding and grunting in agreement.
“I’ll do my job,” Sniper said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.
The overhead speakers sounded again. “MISSION STARTS IN TEN SECONDS!”
Spy exhaled, re-adjusting his cigarette. “Engineer, Pyro and Demo have all agreed to watch the intelligence. That just leaves Scout and Soldier to act as a direct offense.”
“Scout will be reckless,” Heavy warned.
“Oui. I know.”
At the bellowing command of the Administrator, all the mercenaries filed out of their resupply rooms and onto the battlefield.
As instructed, Engineer, Pyro and Demo all made their way to the intel, where Engineer immediately began building a sentry.
Pyro hopped up onto the desk, sitting beside the intelligence. “Huddah huddah?” they asked, staring at Engineer.
“I dunno, son. With any luck, this is just some mix-up on someone’s end and no one gets too hurt but the bots,” Engineer replied with a faint smile.
Demo glanced over at Pyro, preoccupied with lining the walls with stickybombs. “They’re just some rusty piles o’ scrap, Pyro. We’ll be fine, lad.”
Meanwhile, above ground, Spy slipped into RED’s building. He snuck behind a stack of crates to observe the enemy team. Indeed, the fort was crawling with robots — but they seemed entirely disjointed in their behavior.
They’re just…standing around, doing nothing. Is this preparation for mounting a defence? Or feigning incompetence…?
Spy nestled himself as far back into the corner as he could. Taking a deep breath, he drew his gun and fired a shot at a wall across the hallway.
He reactivated his cloak, drew his dagger, and waited.
A handful of metal heads turned towards the wall and stared at the bullet hole. After a moment of surveillance they went back to ambling about.
Something is very wrong. None of them even tried to trace the source of the gunfire, or run, or fight—
“WHO’S READY FOR AN ASS-KICKIN’?!” howled Scout, running through the entrance and waving his bat around in the air.
All Spy could do was grit his teeth and strangle the air as he watched Scout start assaulting robots at ludicrous speeds. Scout thrust his bat at a nearby medic robot, launching the heap of metal into a wall.
“How’s healin’ bots turnin’ out for YOU, huh!?” Scout drew his pistol and began firing at the robot’s face. “Even if I left ya in one piece, there won't be anything left for you to heal by the time I'm through with you and your friends!”
“SCOUT,” Spy hissed in Scout’s ear.
“Whaddya want, stupid? I’m kinda in the middle of sendin’ these losers to robot hell,” Scout hissed back.
“Fall. Back. NOW.”
Scout whipped around, reaching out to grab Spy. When he missed and only grabbed air, he instead settled on waving his arms around.
“DUDE, what is your freakin’ DEAL?! I have this under control!”
“Look around you,” said Spy.
The hallway was empty. All the robots had fled save for the crumpled-up, twitching one at Scout’s feet.
“So? They knew when to run from a real threat, dumbass.”
“Get OUT. RIGHT NOW.”
Scout stuck his tongue out and stamped his foot down on the robot’s neck, causing the robot to make assorted choking noises. After a moment of struggle, it stopped moving.
Spy grabbed Scout by the collar of his shirt and dragged him outside, despite a great deal of kicking and screaming. When they were safely back inside their own fort, Spy clasped Scout by the shoulders and shook him.
“Tell me. If you saw a single Scout fighting our Medic by himself, with no backup, would you try to kill him?”
Scout growled. “DUH.”
“Then why didn’t the robots try to attack you when you were in that exact situation moments ago?”
“‘Cause they’re not as smart as you keep thinkin’ they are, moron.” Scout wriggled his way out of Spy’s grip, taking a few steps back.
“What is going on?” asked Medic, hurrying into the building.
Spy took a slow breath, trying to recollect himself. “The robots, they—”
“—are totally braindead, and all of you need to stop listenin’ to Spy runnin’ his stupid mouth.”
Medic huffed. “Scout.”
Before Scout could protest further, Heavy clamped his hand over Scout’s mouth, reducing his rant to disgruntled mumbling.
Spy glanced outside. “They were all standing around aimlessly. When Scout attacked one of them, they fled and let one of their own get taken down.”
Medic narrowed his eyes. “That…”
“They’re actin’ like they wanna get shot at,” grunted Sniper, rounding the corner. “None of ‘em even tried to shoot me.”
“Where is Soldier?” Heavy asked, his expression darkening.
“I…don’t know, but we should find him, quickly, before he kills any robots,” Medic said, turning to run outside.
“Wait.” Spy grabbed Medic’s wrist. “He’s in the water. Under the bridge. This morning, he mentioned it.”
“When?” grunted Sniper.
“It’s part of those plans he was talking about. Let us retrieve him as a group. We need to reorganize.”
Scout wriggled his way out of Heavy’s grip and rubbed his jaw. He opened his mouth to verbally assault Spy and the others again, but froze.
“Hang on. I think I’m gettin’ somethin’ over comms.”
Scout reached up and pressed a button on his headset.
“Scout, this is Pauling. Can you hear me?”
The anger melted from Scout’s face. “Eyy, Ms. Pauling! Long time no see! Uh, hear. How’re you? How’s the uh, workin’ for the Administrator going? Got any pla—”
“Scout, with all due respect, save it. I have VERY important information I need you to relay to the others immediately.”
“Ooh, important? You can trust me, Pauling! What’s up?”
Spy reached out to snatch Scout’s headset from off his head. “WHAT IS SHE SAYING?” he seethed.
Scout ducked. “Uh-uh, sneaky. She wants ME to handle this. See, she knows who to—”
“Medic is getting autobalanced to RED.”
Scout’s face twisted in confusion. “Huh?”
“In five minutes.”
“The frick is an autobalance?”
Chapter 2: The Chapter Where I Am Woefully Indecisive About Which Game Mechanics I Ignore And Obey
Chapter Text
(completely forgot to set a POV for this one and just ended up hopping. Apparently chapter ones are just my mortal enemy in this department. Likely will get rewritten later. Maybe. I also only proofread it 2.5 times and i was barely awake for 2 of those instances and i dont feel like doing it again so. aaaa)
All sets of eyes whipped around to look at Scout with some combination of alarm and fear.
Scout, oblivious, folded his arms. “I AM takin’ this seriously! Of course I am, it’s you I’m talkin’ to! I just gotta remember what autobalance is, I gotta remember lots of stuff so sometimes—”
Scout was assaulted by every member of his team surrounding him in a mad scramble for his headset. Out of the flurry of hands and shouts, Sniper emerged victorious, prying the headset from Spy and slipping it on his own head.
“Ms. Pauling, it’s Sniper. Who’s getting autobalanced to which team?”
“Wh— oh. Medic. To RED.”
Sniper’s eyes drifted to the ground. “Oh.” He drew a slow breath before turning to Medic. “...I’m…sorry, mate. It’s you. Yer goin’ to RED.”
Medic blinked. “Me?”
Spy rubbed his forehead. “Mon dieu.”
Heavy stood there, shaking his head. “We need Doctor.”
Looking up in realization, Scout announced, “oh! Right, right, autobalance’s the thing that happens when one of us gets booted to the other team. It’s been a while since it’s happened, huh…”
Gloved hands ripped Scout’s headset from Sniper. “Ms. Pauling. Why is this happening?”
“Spy, I — I don’t know. None of this makes any sense. But I’m going to find the answer. What are the robots doing?”
“They baited Scout into dismantling one of them. All of them are behaving unusually.”
“...they prompted the autobalance.”
“My conclusion exactly. I’m going to have everyone withdraw to the lower levels and regroup.”
“Good. You haven’t got much more time with Medic, so be fast. I’ll keep you updated.”
Once Pauling stopped talking, Spy slipped the headset off his head. He tossed it in Scout’s general direction.
“Thanks,” grumbled Scout.
Spy motioned for everyone to follow him. Sniper and Scout fell in line behind him. Heavy moved to follow them as well, but stopped when he realized Medic hadn’t moved. He was still staring off into space.
“Doctor?” Heavy tugged at Medic’s hand.
“Wh — ja? Heavy? What is it?” Medic craned his neck around Heavy, noticing Spy and the others. “Ah. Right, regrouping.”
The two of them made their way into the intelligence room, where Engineer was fiddling with his dispenser.
Hearing the sound of footsteps, Engineer looked up. “Oh, howdy, boys. What’re y’all doin’ down here?”
“Is long story,” Heavy mumbled.
Engineer rose to his feet, stiffening. “Somethin’s wrong.”
“You could say that.” Spy emerged from the other hallway, with Scout, Sniper and Soldier behind him.
Pyro hopped off the desk and scuttled around the room, going up to each one of their fellow mercenaries and inspecting them.
“Relax, mumbles, I ain’t a spy,” Scout said, shaking his head.
“Huddah huddah huh,” Pyro replied, attempting to give Scout the closest thing to a suspicious look they could manage.
“Gentlemen, your attention, please.” Spy paused, looking around the room. “Medic is getting autobalanced to RED. We need to come up with a plan.”
Demo, who had been lounging in a desk chair up to this point, shouted in disbelief and tumbled onto the floor.
Engineer scoffed. “The hell you mean, autobalanced? It’s been—”
“Months, I know. Ms. Pauling informed us.”
“I dunno why you guys are freaking out,” Scout shrugged. “We’ve done this before. Plus, it’s just Medic. This ain’t a big deal.”
“Scout,” Spy snapped, whipping around, “would you please take this seriously?”
“What is there to be taken seriously?”
Heavy folded his arms. “All members of team are important, Scout. Losing Doctor will be very bad.”
“Correct. Who is going to heal you when I’m gone?” Medic added.
Scout stared at the ground, his brow furrowed in thought. “Uhhh…we got medpacks and Engie’s dispensers…I think. We’ll be totally fine.”
“‘We’ll be totally fine’, he says,” muttered Medic, shaking his head. “Dummkopf.”
Having elected to outright ignore Scout for the foreseeable future, Spy turned to Medic, shoving Scout out of his way. “Docteur, what did you have in mind?”
Medic’s smile returned to his face, if only a little. “Ohoho,” he chuckled, “sabatouge, of course. Once I am on their team, I will go snooping around and see what I can find.”
“I am glad we are on the same page. Meet me in BLU’s sewer if you find anything. You should still be in contact with Ms. Pauling as well.”
“Once he's gathered all that he can, we will proceed to blow the robots to bits, correct?” Soldier asked.
“We will end our time here by any means necessary,” Spy corrected. “Preferably ones that do not involve damaging more robots.”
“And then Doctor will join us again,” Heavy said, before turning to Scout and adding, “and we will be more careful not to let this happen again.”
“I get it, I get it,” Scout said, shuffling away from Heavy.
An uncomfortable silence crept into the room. Gazes drifted towards Medic, who himself had started to fidget with his gloves.
Demo, still attempting to crawl back to his feet, waved a bottle in Medic’s direction. “Aye…chin up, man. Ye can…still — hic — turn this whole mess around. Yer like…a perfect…double agent.”
“Yes, yes,” Medic said, shaking his head, “you’re right, Demo. A little autobalance won’t rattle BLU so easily, will it?”
“Aye,” gurgled Demo, halfway through downing another bottle of alcohol.
Soldier turned to Medic, saluting him. “Godspeed, soldier.”
Medic opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get more than a word or two out, he vanished.
It was as though he were never even there. The only evidence of his presence was the space where he was and all the faces turned towards it.
One by one, the mercenaries filed out of the room, quietly chattering among themselves about what to do. Heavy remained, still staring at the spot where Medic was.
Engineer patted Heavy’s shoulder. “He’s gonna be all right, Heavy.”
When this prompted no response from Heavy, Engineer continued. “C’mon, you know the guy better than any of us; he’s smart ‘n resourceful and can hold his own if he’s gotta fight a little.”
“I was not finished talking to Doctor.”
“...was there somethin’ you wanted to say to ‘im?”
“Is nothing. Heavy will be here a while longer.”
“Take your time, son.”
Engineer shuffled out into the hallway, where he found Pyro waiting for him with a box of metal parts.
“Heh,” Engineer chuckled, “already knew what I was comin’ out here for. Thanks, Pyro.”
“Huddah huhmm huddah mmhb?” Pyro asked. Their voice was almost inaudible.
Engineer’s face darkened. “Beg your pardon?”
Pyro pointed at Engineer, gently poking him. “Huddah huhmm huddah mmhb.”
“Oh, now you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that, Pyro,” Engineer sighed, placing a hand on Pyro’s shoulder. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. ‘Sides, even if I did get autobalanced, well. I’d give ‘em so much hell they’d wanna stick me right back over here.”
Pyro brightened, seeming put at ease by Engineer’s response.
“Wanna help me with these adjustments to the dispenser? It’ll help get your mind off this autobalancin’ nonsense,” asked Engineer.
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Sniper cradled his flask between his hands, taking care to drink its contents as quietly as possible. He was curled up in a corner on the fort’s uppermost level, in a boxed-off sort of room.
He poked his head over the sill of the window closest to him, only enough for him to see. The robots were gone, now, and had been gone since he made his way up there.
“Damn robots and their hidin’,” he hissed under his breath. “Up to who knows what. And keepin’ me from doin’ my bloody job.”
Once his flask was empty, he leaned back, tilting his hat so that it covered his eyes. He reached for his rifle and slid it under his arm. He wasn’t planning on falling asleep, but as he reclined, he found his eyelids seemed heavier.
Distant voices jarred Sniper from his attempt at rest. He opened one eye, grumbling to himself. “Can’t even get some bloody rest…”
Retrieving his rifle, he got on his knees and shuffled over to the window. Still no robots, but he could hear them now — just not well enough to make out what they were saying.
“Let’s see what you’re up to,” Sniper muttered, peering through his rifle’s scope. He shuffled around, trying to find an angle at which he could glimpse the fort’s interior through a door or open window.
A metal shoe came into view. And then another.
White fabric suddenly obscured the robot’s feet, swishing in front of them.
Sniper exhaled. “Ah, doc’s already talkin’ to ‘em. Good.”
A new sound rattled into Sniper’s range of hearing, one unlike the distant metal humming of the robots or ambience around him. A motor.
Sniper pulled back. It was a sort of puttering motor, likely one belonging to a scooter or motorbike.
“What the…?”
Sniper crept along the back wall until he was out of sight. Once he was obscured, he followed the sound of the motor towards the back of the fort. Before he could reach it, the noise cut.
He drew his knife. “Oh, someone’s in for a real fun surprise.” Crawling under the stairwell, he held his breath and waited.
Footsteps approached from the hallway, slow and calculated. A shadow crept into view.
Sniper jumped out from around the corner, yelling and waving his knife in front of whatever unlucky soul had attempted to sneak up on him.
Pauling screamed louder than Sniper and aimed her gun in his general direction, her finger twitching towards the trigger.
The two of them, upon recognizing each other, froze and paused to catch their breath.
“Sniper. What the hell?” Pauling wheezed.
Sniper spoke after a moment of heavy breathing. “Ms.…Ms. Pauling. Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t know who ya were.”
“You didn’t hear my scooter?”
Sniper bit his lip, looking off to the side.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. We’re both fine. I can’t blame you. I’m sure you might be a little on edge.”
“What in tarnation’s goin’ on out here?” Engineer said, poking his head out of the intelligence entrance. He rubbed his goggles and readjusted them.
“Ms. Pauling?”
“Engineer,” Pauling said, giving him a brief wave.
“...are you tryin’ to kill Sniper…?”
Pauling glanced at the gun in her hand. It was still levelled at Sniper’s head. “Oh. Oh, that’s — no.”
“Just a misunderstandin’, Engineer,” Sniper grunted, turning around, “I didn’t know it was her and I tried to attack her.”
Engineer slowly nodded his head. “...gotcha. I’ll let the others know you’re here, Ms. Pauling. ‘Sides Scout. I’ll try an’ hold ‘im off.”
“Thank you, Engie.” Pauling said. “Sniper, how are things? Besides what’s already happened.”
“The robots are hidin’ now. Doc’s talkin’ with ‘em, I think.”
“Excellent. I take it you have a plan?”
“Spy’s underground, waitin’ for Doc to come back with whatever he’s got.”
Pauling spun on her heel. “Great. Keep an eye on RED. I’ve got something to discuss with Spy.”
“Right, then.” Sniper shuffled off back towards the upper levels of the battlements, while Pauling descended into the sewers to locate Spy.
As Pauling approached the water, she slipped her hand into her pocket and retrieved a small grey box. She fiddled with it a moment before lifting it to her face.
“Spy. It’s Ms. Pauling. Are you there?”
Spy’s voice crackled from the box. “Ms. Pauling.”
“In case Engie hasn’t gotten to you yet, I’m here on the field. I’m approaching you now.”
“Ah. That is your voice I’m hearing from down the tunnel, then. Proceed.”
Pauling waded through the tunnel until Spy entered her field of vision. He was watching her every move.
“You can lower the radio now,” Spy said.
Pauling did as he said, turning her radio off and slipping it back into her pocket.
Spy motioned to his side. “Quickly. Stand next to me. Keep your back to the wall.”
“They have a spy?” asked Pauling, raising an eyebrow.
“I have reason to believe so. Their team appears to mirror ours.”
While Pauling crept over to the wall, Spy retrieved another cigarette from his coat and lit it.
“I have news about the Administrator.”
Exhaling, Spy lowered his hand, watching the smoke from his lips drift upwards. “Yes?”
“She’s missing.”
Spy turned to face Pauling. She returned his gaze with sharp eyes and a stern expression, but he could hear the unease in her voice.
“She didn’t simply run off of her own volition?”
Pauling shook her head, clenching her fists. “No. I think someone took her.”
“Elaborate,” Spy said, drawing another breath from his cigarette.
“I found out about the autobalance myself. She didn’t tell me. She usually does, and then I pass it on to one of you. If I hadn’t been looking into the robots I never would have known.”
“So when you didn’t hear from her…”
“I tried to call her. Several times. She didn’t answer any of my calls.”
Narrowed eyes drifted to the floor. “There is a possibility—”
“Someone else picked up on my fourth attempt.”
Spy’s face twisted in surprise.
“The voice on the other end was robotic and loud, so loud that it distorted the audio and made it impossible to tell what it was saying.”
“Robotic, you said?”
“Yes.”
Silence drifted into the room as Spy stared at his cigarette, examining it as he thought. Pauling readjusted her glasses before speaking again.
“The robots out there, they’re Grey Mann’s models, right…?”
“Correct. But I have reason to doubt this is his doing.”
“What makes you say that?”
Before Spy could finish, frantic sloshing echoed from the far end of the hallway. Pauling and Spy exchanged a glance before drawing their weapons.
“Oi! Put yer bleedin’ guns down, it’s me!” Sniper snapped, wading into view.
Both Pauling and Spy obliged, but Spy kept his finger close to his pistol’s trigger. Noticing this, Sniper scowled.
“Spy — nevermind. Listen, I was watchin’ the other fort and all of a sudden I start hearin’ screamin’ from inside. Real loud screamin’.”
“The robots are screaming?” Pauling asked.
Sniper leaned forward, shaking his head. “No. The screamin’ was Doc’s.”
Chapter Text
(GONE WRONG AT 3 AM APPROXIMATELY ONE IN THE AFTERNOON?????)
Sniper led Pauling and Spy up and out of the sewers, towards the front of the building.
“I…I think I can hear it,” Pauling gasped between huffs.
Once the three came to a complete stop by one of the fort’s entrances, they paused to listen.
It was as Sniper had said. Yelling and shouting echoed across the yard, distant but distinctly human.
Pauling started to shake her head. “He sounds injured.”
Footsteps thundered out of the fort. Heavy hurried over to Spy, his minigun at his side.
“What is happening?” he asked, unable to tear his eyes from RED’s fort.
“We’re presently addressing that,” Spy muttered, gritting his teeth.
Pauling tore her radio out of her pocket and thrust it to her face. “Medic. Medic, come in, what is going on over there?”
“I doubt you’ll get ahold of ‘im,” warned Sniper.
Heavy hoisted his minigun up, bringing it a bit closer to himself. “I am going to go save Doctor. Heavy will be back.”
“No, you will not,” Spy said, grabbing Heavy’s sleeve. “We cannot just run in guns blazing.”
Heavy turned to face Spy. “Doctor is hurt. I am going to go save him,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Heavy. He’ll respawn if anything were to happen to him. We have to approach this carefully.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes. You cannot be the one to go in there,” Spy insisted. He pointed to himself and then the watch on his wrist. I will go in, he mouthed.
Heavy shook his head. He said nothing, only clutching his gun and staring up at the fort across from him. The screaming grew more pointed and sporadic, and was now accompanied by faint clattering.
“Spy, hurry. I’ll keep everything under control over here,” Pauling said, motioning for Spy to cross the bridge.
Nodding, Spy shuffled across the bridge and activated his cloak. He slid past the entrance and into RED’s fort.
It was as he had left it — empty. Even the robot Scout had previously dismantled was gone. Marks were etched into the floor where chunks of metal had been dragged away.
Horrible crashing thundered through the building, from somewhere overhead. Spy quickened his pace, ascending the stairs to the second level.
The noise came from a deeper room than he’d expected, given its sheer volume. It was nestled behind one of RED’s resupply rooms, down a short hallway. As he approached, the sounds from the room became a bit clearer. The screaming had stopped entirely now, replaced by clattering objects and the sound of metal clanging.
Spy slithered up to the door, pressing his ear to it.
“Let him go,” a robotic voice said from inside the room. “His efforts are futile. He only digs himself a grave.”
Spy clenched his fists. The voice was a perfect mockery of his own, identical save for its crackling, metal buzz. They do have a spy.
More clattering, accompanied by the sound of wood snapping. Footsteps approached the door.
Spy shuffled backwards just in time to avoid the door’s swing. He slammed into the wall behind him, pressing himself as close to it as he could.
Three robots filed out of the room, splattered with splotches of black and red. Leading them was a spy, followed by a heavy and a scout. They marched past Spy and around the corner.
Once he believed they were gone, Spy crept into the room they had left behind, keeping his knife at his side.
Blood and oil dripped from the walls and pooled on the floor. A large metal table had been turned on its side and sat in the corner of the room. What appeared to be medical equipment had been scattered and thrown everywhere.
An obvious struggle. Spy glanced over at the corner of the room and noticed what he hoped was merely a pile of bloody clothes. A struggle the robots won.
Stepping deeper into the room, he noticed an opening in the wall. It was just wide enough for someone to crawl through. They did mention letting him go. Blood loss or infection will likely claim him before he can get far.
Chirps and beeps crackled at his feet. The supposed medical tools were still trying to cling to life. Spy knelt beside one to inspect it. It appeared to be a smaller component of a larger device; a flashing screen with strings of numbers and wires sticking out of either side.
Slow and dragging, the quietest scraping of metal — something was behind him. Spy lurched to the side, then re-evaluated his surroundings.
Steel hands clasped a knife much like his own, hovering right where Spy’s back was a moment ago. As quickly as it had appeared, the robot spy vanished.
“You do not belong here,” warned the robot, still invisible.
Spy gripped his knife a little tighter. He could leave now while he had the chance. Or, if he played his cards correctly…
“Grey Mann’s models used mere recordings of our voices. You appear to be one such model, yet you speak of your own accord.” Spy said. He pressed his back to the wall and sidestepped over debris, making sure to never stop moving.
“I am far more advanced than you realize.”
“Who do you work for?”
“The future.”
Spy switched directions, now shuffling towards the door. “What did you do with Medic?”
“The human you are referring to barely exists anymore.”
Spy opened his mouth to question this further, but refrained. Something in his throat twisted at the robot’s words. He approached the door, now preparing to hurry through to the hallway.
Cold fingers wrapped around Spy’s shoulder, unflinching, digging into his clothes. “You only delay the inevitable. We will come for you, and we will make short work of your resistance.” The robot’s voice was right next to his ear.
Spy tore himself from the robot’s grasp and threw himself into the hallway. He sprinted into RED’s inner courtyard, nearly tumbling down the stairs, and crawled behind some crates.
Trying to catch his breath, Spy examined his shoulder. His suit appeared unharmed, save for a splotch of oil from the robot’s hand.
Its bluffing was mildly impressive, I will give it that much. He dusted himself off and straightened his tie. A bluff is still a bluff. I will not be caught off-guard with empty words.
Even as he tried to push them out of his mind, the robot’s words still nagged at him. He repositioned his cigarette and inhaled deeply. Medic will respawn shortly, and from there we will exchange information.
Spy slipped back into RED’s courtyard and followed its hallways out of the building. Pauling and the others were still waiting in BLU’s yard, but not without making a commotion.
“Ms. Pauling, just watch me. I’ll bust those robots up so bad, you’ll see—”
“Scout, that’s enough,” Spy muttered, walking past Scout as he uncloaked.
“Spy. What did you find out?” asked Pauling. She hurried up to Spy, wringing her hands.
“They did something to Medic. What, exactly, still escapes me.”
Heavy wrestled his way to Pauling’s side, pushing past Scout. “Where is Doctor now?”
Spy looked away. “He tried to escape, but I believe his injuries were fatal. I’ll contact him once he respawns. We have more pressing issues besides Medic’s whereabouts.”
Heavy’s gaze drifted to the ground. He remained silent, allowing Spy to continue.
“The robots are more advanced than Mann’s models. I questioned one of them as to who they serve. All it told me was ‘the future’.”
“You were right. It sounds like they don’t work for Mann,” Pauling murmured, furrowing her brow.
“Soooo the Administrator, then?” Scout grunted.
Spy and Pauling exchanged a glance. “I doubt it,” Spy said. “Besides, the robots I found in the building bore no team colors.”
Scout threw his arms out in exasperation. “The frick? That medic I dismantled was all red…”
“Decoys,” suggested Sniper. “All they wanted was for Medic to get autobalanced.”
“Exactly. Which is precisely why we must hurry up and capture their intelligence without destroying any more robots,” said Spy.
“Ey, wouldn’t the autobalancin’ be a good thing if it lets us sneak in as part of their team?” Scout asked, glaring at Spy.
“First, that is my job, Scout. Second, we don’t truly know what these robots are capable of. The less men we lose, the better. Besides, we…don’t know what they did to Medic, either.”
Heavy lifted his head to look Spy in the eyes, almost staring through him. The longer he looked down at Spy, the more his body seemed to tense.
“Spy.”
“I’ll tell you everything I know later, Heavy.”
“Enough with the chit-chat, let’s get to cappin’ the intel. Who’s goin’ after it? I can get in and outta there real quick,” Scout volunteered.
Spy folded his arms. “Absolutely not. We both know you will start taunting the first robot you see. You cannot afford to make mistakes, Scout.”
“I don’t make mistakes, Spy.”
“I volunteer to retrieve the intelligence!” Soldier bellowed.
“You’re an even worse choice. You’re as loud as he is, and your rockets will draw attention and potentially damage robots.”
“Hey, when did we agree to let you call all the shots? I say I go in there and get it taken care of,” said Scout.
“Scout, I swear, if you don’t—” Spy paused, lowering his fists before pointing at Scout.
“You know what? If you’re so confident, go on. Grab the intelligence. We’ll see who’s right.”
Scout, swelling with pride, thumped his chest and laughed. “Yeah, that’s right! I’ll make you eat your words, old man!”
Scout swung his bag off his shoulders and whipped it around. He unzipped it and pulled out several cans of Bonk.
“Check it. I got about a dozen of these bad boys. I’m gonna be here ‘n back before you’re done mutterin’ another lecture to yourself.”
“Oh, I’ll save the lecture for when you respawn,” said Spy.
Pauling stepped between the two men, looking from one to the other. “Both of you, calm down. You could go together, that way you’d have each other’s backs?”
“Go TOGETHER?” Scout scoffed. “Listen, Ms. Pauling, that’d be a fantastic plan if Spy wasn’t the worst guy to work with. Ever. He sucks.”
“You are insufferable,” Spy said, throwing his hands up.
“I’m leavin’.” Scout popped the seal on his energy drink and dumped half the can into his mouth. “See you suckers in half a second. Not — not includin’ you, Ms. Pauling. I’m talkin’ about them.”
Spy watched as Scout sped away into RED’s fort, his cleats ratting the floorboards of the bridge and kicking up sand and dirt. As his hands unclenched, the fire in his chest melted, and a certain tightness took its place. This will be a good lesson for him. He’ll respawn.
Pauling turned to face Spy. “You just sent…”
“I know.”
“If what happened to Medic happens to him, will you be able to—”
“I know.”
Solider walked up to Spy, stomping a little less than usual. He stopped once he was at Spy’s side, his eyes still lifted towards the fort.
“I will follow him.”
“What?” Spy snapped. “Soldier, you can’t—”
“You said it yourself, Spy. We can’t lose any more men. Someone’s got to keep an eye on that kid.”
Spy sputtered, grasping for a response. Soldier turned to look at him, his voice dropping to only a quarter of a shout.
“I don’t know what it is you saw in there, but you got this look in your eyes you didn’t have before you left. He needs backup.”
Soldier marched off, leaving Spy to grapple with his absence. The yard fell silent.
The mercenaries and Pauling remained gathered, watching RED’s fort, waiting for motion, the blur of blue uniforms, or even the sound of footsteps or a stray rocket exploding.
Minutes passed and midday sunlight turned to evening hues of orange and yellow as the sun crept ever closer to the horizon. Scout and Soldier did not return, not from RED’s entrances or from BLU’s resupply rooms.
The shuffling of boots echoed from inside BLU’s fort. “Boys, it’s almost sundown and we still don’t have the intel. What’s goin’ on out here?” Engineer asked, approaching the group. Demo staggered out of the fort behind him.
Weary eyes turned to face Engineer, who in turn studied the group.
“...where—?”
“We were waitin’ for ‘em to come back with the intel,” muttered Sniper.
Pauling, furiously punching buttons into her radio, looked over her shoulder at Engineer. “I’m still trying to get in contact with Medic. And Scout, and Soldier.”
Engineer rested his hands on his hips. “I’ve been sittin’ in our intel this entire time, thinkin’ y’all was sortin’ things out up here! Will one of you tell me what the hell’s goin’ on?”
Clearing his throat, Spy said, “It’s as Sniper says. They went to get the intelligence. They still aren’t back.”
“Ye mean they’ve been in there this whole bloody time?” asked Demo, raising an eyebrow.
“Supposedly,” Pauling sighed, “hopefully.”
Engineer tapped his chin. “That ain’t right. If somethin’ happened to ‘em—”
“They should have respawned, I know, I KNOW,” Spy said, whipping around. “But they haven’t. Medic hasn’t respawned either.”
Engineer stood a moment before reaching for his hardhat and slipping it off his head.
“Y’mean to say you think…?”
Demo shook his empty bottle at Spy. “Aye, that’s enough outta ye two. Those tin cans are playin’ mind games with us, that’s how they got Medic. Are ye forgettin’ they want us to overreact?”
“They’re doin’ a damn good job of it,” Sniper sighed.
“Demo’s…right. Let’s not go losin’ our heads, now.” Engineer stepped forward, returning his hat to its former position. “Much as I hate losin’, the smartest move we can make is just forfeitin’ the match and retreatin’, until we can figure out what these RED robots are plannin’.”
“Retreating to where, exactly?” We can’t run the risk of any of these robots following us,” asked Spy.
“I know a place,” Pauling suggested. “You won’t be too familiar with it, no one really…knows it exists.”
Spy nodded towards RED’s fort. “Lower your voice, Pauling. We will discuss it when we get there,” he whispered.
Sniper crawled to his feet and started to amble off the battlefield. The others fell behind, leaving Heavy alone in BLU’s yard, still watching the fort across from him.
Sensing an absence, Spy glanced over his shoulder.
“...Heavy.”
Heavy didn’t say anything.
“You cannot wait around for him forever.”
“You said he would respawn.”
Spy’s breath caught in his throat. “I…I did, yes.”
“So Heavy will wait.”
“Hey, big guy,” Pauling said, walking back towards Heavy. “We can’t leave you behind. We need you.”
“We need Doctor.”
Pauling knelt beside Heavy. “We’re going to get him back, Heavy.”
Heavy at last turned to Pauling. He stared up at her, his face muddled with distrust.
“Heavy, I promise we’re going to try everything we can.”
Slowly did Heavy crawl to his feet, slinging his minigun over his shoulder. He lumbered past Spy, Pauling trailing behind him.
Spy watched Heavy crawl into the back of BLU’s utility truck as though he were weighed down by some invisible force. Pauling slipped onto her scooter, glancing over her shoulder at RED’s fort.
Scout will be back, and so will Soldier and Medic. We are worried for nothing.
Spy reached into his suit to retrieve yet another cigarette, but his hand found little but fabric and clothing. He was already out.
Notes:
i just want everyone to know while writing the first portion of this chapter despite trying to set a more tense tone all i could think of was that one screaming voice clip from medic looped in the background for like 2 minutes straight while heavys crashing out gmod ragdoll style
Chapter 4: I Will Now Proceed To Make A Hairpin Turn And Careen Off The Sheer Cliff To My Left And Drive The Proverbial Car Into A Ditch
Notes:
yeah so i wrote this one in four days three of which were days i was very exhausted at the end of and that is all i have got to say about it
jk i have one other thing to say about this one, i know i rated this work Mature + hella violence (this particular chapter is not the only reason but it was in mind when choosing the rating), so like, its Expected for Mature Violence to be in here but like. here's your warning, this chapter is a touch more intense than the first two. i think there is what might qualify as torture? and i think there's some stuff that might count as body horror in here (less sure about this one)? magical girl transformation sequence except with some possibly gruesome(??) details? oh and what i personally would describe as a little bit of gore(?). there is a knife and it does cut something open and that something is alive and i don't spare you all the details!
i also spellchecked/format-checked this on zero sleep so kjhsdjkhfsd
Chapter Text
(another episode of “you can pry the italics from my dead hands”. )
Tuesday, November 9th, 1965
TEUFORT, NM - MIDDAY
“Danke, Soldier—”
Medic froze, hearing his voice bounce off the walls. The dark walls of BLU’s intel had been replaced with the stale whites of a resupply room. He looked down to find his blue uniform now painted in shades of red.
Sighing, Medic slid off his glasses and polished them. It will be over soon.
He sauntered through the doorway and into RED’s fort. Soundless, hollow halls and rooms opened up before him. Seems they haven’t returned.
Medic shuffled around the corner and across the fort’s courtyard, taking the stairs down to RED’s intel and attached basement. As he slid down the stairs, he found the light dwindled the further he travelled.
Undeterred, he slipped into the darkness, the walls and floors illuminated only by tiny lights and a handful of flashing screens. He stopped by one to inspect it.
Numbers flickered across it in simple lines, plain and neat but entirely foreign to him. Some sort of code. If only Engineer were here.
A screen fizzled to life behind him, casting a twitching shadow across the wall. Medic spun around and approached the newly lit device.
This one was as illegible as the last, but its format was more easily deciphered. It reads as some sort of profile. Wait, that’s—
In the upper right corner of the screen was a grainy image of Scout. With renewed resolve, Medic started fiddling with the buttons next to the monitor. One of these has to do something.
The screen flipped through images surrounded by numbers, revealing a detailed profile on each one of Medic’s colleagues. Once he’d cycled through all of them, he began feeling around for more buttons.
Light from the monitor shifted, and a new set of symbols replaced the binary code onscreen — letters, but still arranged in a language unfamiliar to him. Medic grumbled, trying to find the button he’d just pushed.
Letters reorganized themselves several times before finally landing in an order he recognized. Aha! This will suffice.
Medic adjusted his glasses and began to mutter under his breath. “Jeremy Willis…mid-twenties. Boston, Massachusetts…no, I already know that, where’s…ah. Exceptionally talented at evasion by human standards. Low threat level. Reckless and self–absorbed. Feed into ego, wear down, aim for the legs and incapacitate…”
A sufficient list of weaknesses. I wonder what they have to say about me? Returning his hand to the wall, he started cycling through the profiles again.
“What are you doing?” droned a voice behind him.
Medic yelped in surprise, spinning around. Grey lights stared back at him from a metal form.
“Oh, hello! Ah, I was on my way to check on the intelligence.”
“You are a medic. You do not belong down here. Do you behave this way with your own team?”
Medic rose to full height. “Ja. If I so wish. I behave as I please.”
“Your team is incompetent,” said the scoutbot. “Come with me.”
“Very well,” Medic muttered. He folded his arms behind his back and fell into line behind the robot. It’s sentient, somehow.
The robot led Medic up and out of the dark, to the front entrance of RED’s fort. It stopped in front of one of the entrances.
“You have just been autobalanced to RED. As human etiquette dictates, we will accommodate you by introducing you to your new teammates. They will arrive shortly.”
“I see,” Medic said, raising an eyebrow. “The gesture is…appreciated.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of a light — a tiny blue dot, hovering at his feet. Very good. I see Sniper is keeping an eye on things.
Metal hands tapped Medic’s shoulder, accompanied by a voice that made his body tense up. “Human.”
“It’s Medic,” hissed Medic, turning around. “If even that is beyond you, a simple ‘sir’ or ‘doctor’ would suffice.”
A replica of Heavy stood before him, held together by bolts and welded steel. “All of these refer to you just as well as the descriptor ‘human’. We have elected to refer to you as ‘human’, as that is what you are.”
“Fine then, robot,” said Medic, folding his arms.
“Enough. Human, your attention,” said the scoutbot. “We number seven, including you.”
“Seven? What — nein, I saw far more than six of you running around inside here this morning.”
“You were mistaken. There are seven of us, as follows: a heavy, a scout, a spy, an engineer, a demoman, and two medics.”
Shaking his head, Medic said, “impossible. Our— BLU’s Scout killed one of your medics. I assume you’re including me in that assessment, so who is the other one?”
“The same one BLU’s Scout destroyed. It will be repaired and built into another type of robot, seeing that we have you now.”
Medic tapped his chin. “That brings me to an entirely separate question, how do you expect me to heal any of you?” He lifted his Medi-gun to his side, waving it around to punctuate his point. “My equipment is for flesh-and-blood beings, not robots. An engineer would be far better suited to this task.”
The scoutbot stared up at Medic, still unmoving. “That will not be a problem for much longer. Equipment can be modified.”
Medic clutched the Medi-gun to his chest. “You will not be modifying my equipment.”
“Correct, not yet. We have other things we must modify first, before you would allow us access to your tools.”
Medic remained quiet, lowering his arms and replacing his Medi-gun at his side. Modify what?
“I see,” he said, nodding. He slipped his hand into one of his pockets, feeling around for his bonesaw.
The scoutbot motioned to the rest of the robots in the room. “Given their resemblance to your previous teammates, we assume you understand and recognize each of our duties?”
“Yes,” Medic said, starting to slide his foot backwards.
“We are not going to harm you. There is no need to flee,” insisted the heavybot.
With pursed lips, Medic merely bobbed his head, now clutching the handle of his saw. Not yet. You cannot take them six to one. Once I’m in their sewer…
“You are displaying signs of distress. Do not be alarmed. Follow us, we have something to show you,” said the scoutbot.
Medic watched the robots file out of the entrance and back into the inner courtyard. Don’t look back. Do not look back.
When the robots left him without ensuring his presence, he slipped back into the hallways and ran towards the sewer entrance. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed a lack of pursuit.
He sloshed through the sewer tunnels before coming to a stop on the underground platform. Leaning against a wall, Medic took a long, deep breath.
“You will not have me today, robots,” he muttered, waving his saw in the direction of the tunnel he’d just exited.
Once he caught his breath, Medic began walking towards the sewer’s exit. With his free hand, he rummaged around in one of his pockets.
“Where did I put the…aha, there it is.” He retrieved a small radio and lifted it to his face.
As he felt around for the button, a low, hollow hum rang out from behind him. He pivoted, bonesaw raised, looking for the source of the noise.
He identified the object a moment too late — a metal bat, headed directly for his head. It made contact the moment he registered it was coming.
The world melted into greys and reds as liquid engulfed his body. He tried to crawl back to his feet, but found the ground seemed to be moving underneath him. Mud, sludge and water gave way to bumpy ledges, doing little to aid Medic in regaining his bearings.
Coughing up the water that had crept into his lungs, Medic clawed at the wood planks and soil he was being dragged across. It felt as though someone were trying to crush his skull between two walls. Think. Think. Why can’t I…?
Medic was escorted up another flight of stairs. The light around him faded, swallowed by the darkness of a dimly lit room. His body was lifted from the ground and thrown onto something flat and cold.
A single light came into view, and then the ceiling behind it. Medic tried to lift his arms to rub his face and eyes. When he discovered he couldn’t, he tried to look down at his body.
His vision started to adjust as the pounding in his head started to numb — thick, leather straps bound his arms, neck and torso to the surface he rested on. Clattering silhouettes started to gather around him.
Something stung his arm. “Don’t move, you will make it worse for yourself,” warned the voice over him.
“What?” Medic grunted, lifting his head again. The shape at his side lifted a syringe from his arm before tossing it aside.
His arms stiffened, followed by his body. Medic could do little but watch as equipment was repositioned over him, all efforts to fight rendered futile.
A face lowered into view, one belonging to the spybot. “Since you will likely not remember anything that is about to happen, we will grant you—”
“Did you just attempt to sedate me?”
The robot froze. “No.”
“Oh, very good. I would be offended if you considered me incapable of enduring whatever you intend to put me through.”
Hollow eyes stared back at Medic, wholly unresponsive.
“This human has…malfunctions,” droned one of the other robots in the room.
Medic scowled in the direction of the robot's voice. “Malfunctions?”
“Silence. We will begin.”
A large knife speckled with dried blood was lowered over Medic’s body. “Ah, a bold choice! How do you intend to keep me from getting infected?” asked Medic, eyeing the knife. “Or is that what you want?”
“Infection will be foreign to you shortly,” said the robot.
Cool metal slid into his abdomen, just deep enough to cut through his clothes, skin, and muscle. Medic gasped through gritted teeth as the blade glided just over his ribcage.
“You have a very steady hand,” grunted Medic through heavy breathing, straining to lift his head.
“You should be writhing in pain, or fear,” the robot mused, “seeing as that is generally a human’s response to being cut open while conscious.”
“That is the general response I get, yes.”
The robot resumed its work, setting down the knife before reaching into the newly created fissure in Medic’s torso. Claws dug into his body, piercing flesh and tissue alike, squelching as they felt around.
Medic watched as several organs were ripped out of him, choking on the resulting pain.
“Incredibly wasteful,” Medic hissed as the robots discarded the chunks of flesh as readily as they had the used syringe. “Those are perfectly functioning and can be very costly.”
“Must you go on like this?” the robot asked.
The corner of his mouth upturned ever slightly, Medic replied, “you are ripping open a doctor. What you’re doing is fascinating, but you’re doing a horrible job of it.”
Another robot in the room spoke up. “Should we retrieve the—”
“Yes. At once. We cannot keep entertaining his idle chatter.”
A new item was dragged into view — a chainsaw. It revved to life, puttering as it approached the operating table.
“Ah! A motorized chainsaw! I’ve put in several requests to obtain one for my own experiments, but the others keep discarding or deleting them before they can reach the Administrator,” said Medic, his breath still escaping him in ragged huffs.
“I see.” The spybot tore another glob of bloodied tissue from Medic’s chest. “May you be content knowing one was involved in some of your final moments of humanity.”
Before Medic could question the exact nature of this statement, the chainsaw was plunged into his waist, ripping through flesh and bone alike. Finally did Medic howl in agony, the pain overwhelming him.
Glass and metal approached him from above as another piece of machinery was lowered. One of the robots flicked a few switches on its side, causing it to begin whirring.
Medic forced one of his eyes open. His whole body began to burn. Craning his neck, he attempted to inspect his arms through screams.
Shades of slate and pale reds started to bubble like hives and coat his arm in specks. Wherever they appeared, his skin seemed to harden. His bones twisted and folded in on themselves, reshaping his arm entirely.
Thin strands almost like wires wriggled through him, weaving themselves under his skin. A robot, Medic realized with wonder and horror in equal measure, that’s what they’re—
Gathering all the strength he could manage, Medic began to thrash violently against the table, thrusting his body in any direction it would move.
“You exhaust yourself for no reason. This will be over soon. Lie down and accept your fate. It is a mercy.”
This time, Medic gave no response save for another pained cry. Jagged, sharp stakes of some kind dug into the exposed flesh where his lower body had been.
One of the leather straps snapped. All the robots stared down at it in the closest thing to surprise they could express.
“Contain him,” commanded the spybot.
Medic lunged to the side, sliding the table across the floor with enough force to wobble it. The wires started to spiral up his neck.
The heavybot tossed the chainsaw aside and clasped Medic’s arm in his hands, trying to hold it down. Medic pulled back, so forcefully that he ripped his arm from his shoulder and spun the table on its side.
Equipment, blood and oil scattered about the room. Medic’s lungs started to seize, turning his screams to broken gasps. The stiff, cold feeling of metal alloys and tin zigzagged up his face.
Another snap. Both of Medic’s arms were free now, and he wasted no time in employing the one that was still solidly attached to him.
“Why do you resist?” the spybot asked, approaching Medic.
Medic searched for the remaining straps and unfastened them, even as his vision faded. He crawled out of the way of the machine looming over him and towards the sound of the still roaring chainsaw.
The scoutbot hurried towards Medic, only to slip on a puddle of blood and crash into a wall. “Get that away from him at once,” it droned, trying to right itself.
Medic grasped what he was fairly certain was the chainsaw’s handle and started swinging it around, crashing it into one of the walls.
It slipped from his grip and tumbled outside, creating a hole and an entrance for faint rays of light. He fell onto his stomach and started clawing his way towards the only thing he could discern.
“Let him go,” said the spybot, its voice growing distant behind Medic. “His efforts are futile. He only digs himself a grave.”
The ground vanished from underneath Medic, dropping him into the creek below.
In the blip of time that consciousness granted him before flickering away, he glimpsed a set of upright figures huddled outside of BLU’s fort. They’re…still fine. Maybe Scout was right.
Water cradled him, seeping into his body. All at once, he was plunged into darkness, the river thrusting him into a dreamless void.
Chapter 5: Obligatory Walmart Episode
Notes:
I am aware glow in the dark stars were probably not publicly available until approximately the 1970s (some records I have found say 80s). they are in this chapter anyway. why? i can do what i want.
Chapter Text
(i attempted to learn several new words in french for this chapter. I used none of them. Help me)
Tuesday, November 9th, 1965
TEUFORT, NM - NIGHT
“This must be the place,” Sniper muttered, turning his van into the parking lot.
“Hudduh huhmmph?” grunted Pyro, tilting their head.
Engineer patted Pyro’s shoulder. “Now, I know it looks like a regular ol’ hardware store, but c’mon. Let’s trust Ms. Pauling, son. I’m sure she knows what she’s doin’.” Probably just a place to leave our vehicles.
Ahead of them, Pauling’s little purple scooter puttered onto the lot and into a parking space. Sniper pulled up next to her.
After hopping out of the van, Engineer shuffled up to Pauling. “I take it this ain’t…?”
Pauling slipped her helmet off and looked around. “No, of course not. We’re going to walk. Do any of you have a change of clothes in the utility van?”
A large white and blue vehicle swerved past Pauling and Engineer, the sound of screaming and yelling fading in and out of earshot. Engineer winced, shaking his head.
“Spy might. That sorta thing’s right up his alley. I think I got a plain jacket in there, too.”
“Good,” Pauling said, “anything that isn’t red or blue.” She opened one of the compartments on her scooter and retrieved a wallet and a pile of folded clothes. “What about the others?”
“I don’t think Pyro’s really got anything that’ll…hide their identity. It’s mighty difficult to miss a fella in a gas mask that smells like a fire waitin’ to start.”
“I’ve got an idea. You stay here with the others. I’ll change in there and find something for the rest of you.”
Engineer nodded, reclining against Sniper’s van.
Pauling moved to start walking towards the hardware store, but stopped mid-step.
“Hmm?” grunted Engineer.
“...I…didn’t authorize this expense with the Administrator.”
“And?”
“I normally do.” Pauling glanced over her shoulder at Engineer. “Wait, I think I can—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there, ma’am. You ain’t buyin’ us clothes with your hard-earned money.”
“But—”
“You can’t ask her permission for everything. You’re a responsible person. Use the company funds. And if she comes after you, you tell her it was me who told you to do it.”
Pauling faltered, staring at the wallet in her hands. She turned it over a few times before looking back up.
“You’re sure?”
“One hundred percent. Now get goin’,” said Engineer, motioning to the store. There you go. Have some confidence in yourself.
Pauling resumed her stroll, slipping out of sight past the revolving doors of the hardware store.
A moment later, Pyro rounded the side of the van, approaching Engineer. Lifting his head at the sound, Engineer waved. “Howdy, Pyro. Just hang tight for a second. Ms. Pauling’s gonna grab us some disguises.”
“Muhmmn hunnh?” asked Pyro, clapping their hands together.
“Yup. Just like Spy.”
Moaning approached Engineer and Pyro on staggered footsteps. “Speak of the devil,” chuckled Engineer.
“Never put me in a vehicle with Demoman again,” seethed Spy, holding his head.
Demo shook his finger at Spy, stumbling behind him. “I told ye, if you’d have let me take the bleedin’ — hic — wheel there was a shortcut over the—”
Spy whipped around. “YOU. ARE. DRUNK. YOU CANNOT DRIVE SAFELY.”
“I’m not that drunk,” argued Demo.
“Enough,” said Heavy as he walked past both of them, pushing them apart. “Noise will draw unnecessary attention.”
“Speakin’ of which,” Engineer said, turning to Pyro, “once Ms. Pauling’s back out here, would you mind doin’ a quick check for spies? Can’t have any of them followin’ us.”
Pyro giggled, nodding fervently. They waddled to the back of the supply truck and retrieved their flamethrower.
“Aye, what’re we waitin’ around for? Where’d Ms. Pauling go?” grunted Demo.
“I’m right here,” Pauling said, approaching the group with large bags in either arm. She was now wearing a black button-up coat and a matching pillbox hat with a silver bow.
Pyro scuttled past Engineer and tried to peek into the bags, prompting a laugh from Pauling. “Hang on, Pyro. I’ve got something for you, buddy.”
Reaching into one of her bags, Pauling retrieved a welding mask and handing it to Pyro. “Think this’ll fit over your mask?”
Pyro slipped it over their head, repositioning it until it fit. “Huddah!” they laughed, giving her a thumbs up.
“I have no idea what you just said, but great. Here’s a leather jacket, denim pants and a scarf. It should conceal your identity well enough.”
“One second,” said Engineer. “Ms. Pauling, stand back.”
“What?” Before the words had completely left Pauling’s mouth, Pyro started spraying fire everywhere, prancing about as they did.
A startled Pauling stumbled into Heavy, looking up at him for an answer.
“Pyro is checking for spy robot,” said Heavy.
“Oh. That’s. Very clever, actually.”
Upon thoroughly dousing the air in flames, Pyro returned their flamethrower to the truck and hopped back over to Engineer’s side, retrieving their makeshift disguise from Pauling.
“What’re the new clothes for?” asked Demo, taking a stack of folded fabric as Pauling handed it to him.
“Put it on, and remove any identifying gear you have on. We’re walking.”
“To where?”
“Just trust me,” Pauling said. She set one of the now empty bags aside. “Set all your stuff in here.”
The mercenaries stared at the bag, sharing uneasy expressions with each other.
Sighing, Pauling shook her head. “Come on. You can put everything back on when we get there. It’s this or risking our safety.”
“Fine,” Sniper grumbled, removing his hat and glasses. He gingerly set them into the bag.
“Demo, here’s a pair of sunglasses. That should hide your eyepatch well enough. Engie, I’ve got a pair of matching gloves that’ll cover up your, uh…robot arm?”
“Gunslinger,” Engineer corrected. “And thanks.”
Once all the mercenaries had slid their new outfits over their old ones, they turned to Pauling.
“All right,” said Pauling, lowering her voice to a whisper, “we’re going to the department store five blocks from here, on the corner of Rockford and South. A group of seven will look extremely suspicious, so we’re going to split up.”
“I can manage alone,” Sniper suggested.
“No, not now. We are travelling in groups in case we get attacked. Heavy, Sniper, Demo — you’re with me. Spy, Engie and Pyro, you take an alternate route. Sound good?”
“Very well,” Spy said. He motioned for Engineer and Pyro to follow him.
“We’ll see you in a few minutes,” Pauling whispered before departing with the others.
Engineer and Pyro fell in behind Spy and the three began their trek, taking to the sidewalk in a single file line.
Pebbles bounced down the sidewalk, sent flying by the shuffling of Engineer’s boots. He stared at them a while, watching as they rolled off into cracks or fissures in the pavement.
“What is it you saw in there?” asked Engineer. His eyes didn’t leave the ground.
Pyro spoke up from behind him. “Mmph?”
“No, son. I’m talkin’ to him.”
Spy’s footsteps became more deliberate. He gave no response.
“I asked you a question.”
The group stopped at a crosswalk. “I heard you,” Spy hissed, still looking straight ahead.
“Then you had better answer.”
Spy led the group across the street, motioning for them to hurry. “You’ll have my answer soon enough.”
“No. You tell me now. You’re actin’ off, and it ain’t just on account of a third of our team bein’ gone.”
“That is enough,” Spy snapped, clenching his fists at his side.
“It ain’t what you saw. Somethin’ else is eatin’ at you.”
“Nothing of any real importance.”
Engineer reached out and grabbed the edge of Spy’s coat. “You quit lyin’ to me, you snake. What the hell’s the matter with you?”
Spy swiveled, freeing himself from Engineer’s grasp. He fell back into his quiet march, not speaking for a time.
He knows something I don’t, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to find out what.
“What were y’all doin’ while I was watchin’ intel?”
“It was a new room.” Spy stiffened as he spoke.
“Huh?”
“The room I found in RED’s fortress. I suspect the robots built it. Blood coated the floor and walls. Oil too, but less.”
Engineer looked up. “...Sawbones wouldn’t go down without a fight. They did somethin’ to him, huh…”
Glancing over his shoulder at Engineer, Spy continued, “that’s not it. I questioned one of the robots about it. It told me he no longer existed.”
Engineer rubbed his chin. “That…exact wordin’?” The hell?
“Oui. These robots are…more of a threat than we thought initially.”
It’s Scout. He’s worried Scout’s gone.
“That may be, but they still ain’t somethin’ we can’t handle. Once we get settled in I’ll set up a connection to the cameras on BLU’s respawn points, so when—”
Spy stopped walking, spinning around to glare at Engineer. “The robots abused autobalance, labourer,” he spat. “What is to say they won’t do it with respawn as well?”
Engineer chuckled, shaking his head. “Ain’t nothin’ I can’t fix, son.”
“Let us both hope you’re right.”
The trio of mercenaries approached the department store, coming to a stop right outside its doors. Pauling and the others were waiting inside just past the entrance.
“Glad to see you made it, guys,” said Pauling, giving them a brief wave. She looked Spy up and down. “You okay? You look kind of…”
“I am going to purchase some cigarettes,” mumbled Spy, weaving through the group as he passed them. “I will rejoin you shortly.”
Pauling nodded slowly. “Oh. Gotcha. All right, men, just follow me. I’ll handle everything.”
“Huddah!” cheered Pyro.
Pauling led the mercenaries through the store until she came to some sort of desk in the back, manned by a single, very tired-looking employee. He set down his coffee and looked up.
“How can I help you, ma’am?” droned the desk attendant.
“Hello, could you direct me as to where you keep the cooking utensils?
“What brand were you wanting to purchase?” the attendant asked, now rising to his feet.
Pauling leaned forward. “Mann brand. You do sell those here, right?”
“Yes. Right this way, ma’am.” The attendant shuffled out from his desk, disappearing down a nearby aisle. Pauling and the others followed him, finding him waiting next to some ladles and spatulas.
The attendant, seeming a little more awake now, gestured to the ladles next to him. “Are these what you’re looking for?”
“Not quite,” said Pauling, instead reaching for the spatulas. She retrieved a blue one from the very back of the row it was hung in. It seemed deformed and worn.
“Ah, I see. This way,” the attendant said.
Once more, the attendant led them somewhere else, to an aisle full of curtain displays. He motioned to a set of blue satin curtains, drawn closed in front of the wall they were fastened to.
He retrieved a stack of playing cards from his shirt pocket and handed them over to Pauling. “There should be ten in there. Thank you, ma’am.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pauling replied, walking over to the set of curtains.
Sniper waited for the attendant to vanish back into the store’s aisles before finally speaking. “What the bloody hell was all that?”
“Shh,” Pauling whispered, lifting one of the curtains out of the way. She jammed the spatula into the wall behind it. It clicked, revealing what appeared to be a door to a hidden passageway.
“Well, I’ll be,” muttered Engineer under his breath. The spatula’s a key. Those cards might be, too.
“Come on, guys. This way,” said Pauling as she slipped into the darkness behind her.
Engineer stepped over the display items underfoot and shuffled into the inclined passageway, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the others followed.
Heavy loomed in the doorway. “We should wait for Spy,” he said. “He said he would be back soon.”
“I’m already here,” muttered a voice in the dark.
“Spy? When’d ye–” Demo spun around to face Spy, but instead crashed into Pyro.
“I joined you in the kitchenware aisle.” A brief flash of light illuminated the passageway as Spy lit his cigarette.
“Huddaaaah!” shouted Pyro with glee, reaching for the tiny flame. Demo, who was still trying to drunkenly crawl to his feet, teetered into Pyro a second time, knocking both them and Spy to the ground.
Spy could do little but grumble as Heavy walked over and scooped him and Demo up. “We must keep moving,” Heavy said.
The door slid shut behind the group, plunging them into darkness, save for a dim light at the bottom of the passageway.
“We’re almost there, guys, just a little further,” said Pauling.
At the end of the hallway was a rickety old door, surrounded by cobwebs and rotting chips of wood. Pauling retrieved one of the playing cards from her pockets and held it up to the door.
With a click, the door swung open. “We’re here. Welcome to your temporary hideout, mercenaries," Pauling said, motioning for them to enter.
Engineer shuffled through the door. The main room was some sort of lounge area with a vaulted ceiling, painted in cool cobalt blues. It had a spattering of seating options and a television against one of the walls, nestled in a larger console.
“Aye…now this is a hideout,” said Demo, flopping over onto a couch. “Ye got anything good to drink down here?”
“There’s a wholly operational kitchen down that hallway,” Pauling smiled. “It’s kept stocked. There should be some drinks in there too.”
“Ms. Pauling…you’re the best that ever was, lass…” mumbled Demoman into the couch.
“Thank you, Demo. There should be rooms for all of you. They aren’t…super furnished, but that brings me to something else,” said Pauling, sorting through the playing cards from her pocket.
“What are cards for?” asked Heavy.
“It’s like a free pass for anything you want from the store. Just present this at the checkout. They’ll know it’s you.”
Engineer reached out, accepting his own card from Pauling. He flipped it over in his hand. Ace of spades…huh.
“These cards are also your tickets in and out of here. So do not lose them, okay? They’re super, super important.”
“Huddah hunh!” Pyro saluted, slipping their card into a pocket.
“Aye, what’ll ye do with the cards for, ah, the others?” asked Demo, rolling off the couch and onto the rug below.
“I…don’t actually know yet,” Pauling sighed.
Heavy approached Pauling. “Let Heavy have Doctor’s card. Please.”
Pauling, with cautious hands, handed two cards over to Heavy. “You’ve got to keep track of both of them. If someone else gets their hands on that, we’re screwed.”
Heavy shook his head. “No one is getting Doctor’s card. I promise you this.”
“Very good. Spy, do you want…?
Spy held out his hand, not lifting his eyes to meet Pauling’s. She plopped the two cards into his hand.
“Demo, I’ll set your card…by your bed. So you don’t lose it.”
“Thanks again, Ms. Pauling…say, uh, stick Solly’s card with it, would ye? I’ll give it to him when he gets back.”
“...sure,” Pauling said. She stepped into a nearby hallway, returning a moment later.
“Well, guys. Any other questions?” asked Pauling, surveying the room.
Heavy shook his head. “No. Thank you, Ms. Pauling. You are always big help to team.”
“Great.” Pauling rubbed her hands together, starting to turn towards the door. “There’s a phone down here you can use to contact me if you need me. You can also phone the desk up front.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where do you think you’re goin’?” grunted Engineer, taking a step forward.
“I was leaving? You know, orders to follow, administrators to find. Even if I don’t know where she’s at, I’ve got to do my job.”
“Huddahhhh mhummm,” pleaded Pyro, grabbing Pauling’s wrist.
“The Administrator’s missin’? Then she won’t care if ye stay with us a while,” said Demo. “How many rooms are down here?”
“There…are technically ten. One’s a dusty attic that isn’t really meant for anyone.”
“My attic now,” grunted Sniper. “Other room’s yours.”
“Guys, I really can’t stay. The Administrator will be furious if she comes back and finds out I’m neglecting the rest of my duties.”
“How about this? ‘Til the Administrator comes back, you’re in charge, and you decide where you go,” said Engineer. Come on, Flo. That woman has you wrapped around her finger. Do something for yourself for once.
“That — I couldn’t do that,” stammered Pauling.
“What does Ms. Pauling want?” asked Heavy. “Not Administrator. Not company. Not bosses. Ms. Pauling.”
Pauling fidgeted with her glasses, her gaze never leaving the floor. She shifted her weight from foot to foot.
“If you don’t wanna, we ain’t gonna make you, of course,” Engineer sighed. “But I think I speak for us all when I say we wouldn’t mind your company.”
“Do what makes Ms. Pauling happy,” insisted Heavy.
“Geez,” Pauling moaned, “fine, fine. I’ll stay. One day. Just one. Then I have to get back to work.”
The room erupted into an assortment of cheers and smiles. Even Spy allowed himself a slight smirk, looking over at Pauling through the smoke around him.
Engineer reached up and gave Pauling a gentle pat on the back. “Good job, son.”
“With what?” asked Pauling.
“Doin’ exactly what Heavy said to do,” Engineer replied with a smile.
Heavy motioned for Pauling to follow him. “Ms. Pauling. Come with Heavy. We will set up room for you.”
“I mean, it’s got a bed and a desk in there already, that’s all I really need?” shrugged Pauling as she followed Heavy.
“No. Ms. Pauling will have more than bed and desk. Ms. Pauling will have nice room with everything she wants,” Heavy insisted.
“Heavy, you really don’t have to…”
Heavy and Pauling disappeared around the corner, their voices fading as they travelled down the entrance hallway.
Engineer wandered down a different, wider hallway, one near the television console. On either wall was a door, with an emblem neatly painted on each one. Guess that answers my question of whose room is whose. Looks like these are Spy’s and Scout’s.
Another hallway next to the kitchen revealed Pyro’s room and Engineer’s, across from it. He pushed the door open, feeling along the wall for a light.
What appeared to be a workshop opened up before Engineer. A huge table sat in the middle of the room, and the walls were lined with all manner of tools and equipment. A personal desk and a simple bed with a blue quilt folded atop it were neatly tucked away in the right corner of the room.
“Well, I’ll be,” muttered Engineer, slipping his hardhat off. “And she said they weren’t hardly furnished. All I need’s a place to stick my hat.”
He turned to approach his desk, only to nearly smack into a set of hooks on the wall. Chuckling, he shook his head and placed his hat upon one of the hooks. Wonder if the others have rooms as detailed to them as mine. Flo has to be the one who put all this together. We ain’t never had quarters this nice.
The clomping of boots approached Engineer from the hallway. He turned around to find Pyro excitedly pointing outside.
“Hundnah humm! Huddah!” they said. They shuffled across the room and took Engineer by the wrist.
“Whoa,” grunted Engineer as Pyro dragged him out of his room and into theirs.
Pyro’s room was mostly pink - the walls, the concrete floor, and the door were all wrapped in shades of bubblegum. A rainbow was painted on the widest wall in the room, accented by pink and orange flames along the baseboards.
One of the shorter walls was stocked with axes, propane tanks, lighters and matches. The ceiling was painted a deep blue, with a tiny splattering of stars painted across it.
Engineer squinted at the ceiling. It boasted not one, not two, but seven individual sprinklers. She really did think of everything.
Pyro hopped around in the middle of their room, frantically gesturing at everything.
“I know! It’s real nice, huh?” nodded Engineer as Pyro flopped over onto their bed and started flailing gleefully.
Pyro gasped in realization. “Mmmph! Ummph mmph hummph,” they said, again grasping Engineer’s hand.
“Slow down a little there, speedy. You don’t need to go draggin’ me around. I’ll follow you. You wanted to get somethin’ from up top for your room?” asked Engineer.
“Huddah!” Pyro replied, vigorously nodding.
“All right then. Lead the way, son.”
Pyro and Engineer both made their way back to the store, where Pyro directed Engineer into an aisle full of decorative items.
“Wantin’ to do some decoratin’, huh?” Engineer leaned back and took in the aisle.
Pyro turned to Engineer. “Huddah hummph huhmm hum.”
Engineer raised an eyebrow. “You want me to help?”
When met with more excited nodding from Pyro, Engineer rubbed his chin. “It’s gettin’ a little late…are you sure you don’t wanna wait ‘til—”
“Huddah! Huddah HUMMPH,” insisted Pyro, starting to snatch things off the shelves.
“All righty, then,” chuckled Engineer, shaking his head. Can’t be stopped once they set their mind to something, huh?
Engineer wandered down the aisle, noticing what seemed to be a bag of little plastic stars. “Smokey. These might look nice on your ceiling,” he suggested, lifting a bag.
Letting out a muffled gasp, Pyro scurried down the aisle and scooped up several bags of stars.
“That’s…an awful lot to carry. You sure you don’t need a baske—”
“Hudhmph,” Pyro said, shaking their head. They marched off into another aisle, leaving Engineer to shake his head and laugh as he followed them.
By the time they reached the checkout counter, Pyro was struggling to contain their findings to their arms. Engineer had already retrieved a few fallen items from the floor.
“Good…evening?” asked the cashier, looking Pyro up and down.
“Huddah! Hudda hmm pmmh huddamhmpmh.” Pyro said, dumping their items onto the conveyor.
“...right. Okay then.” The cashier turned to Engineer. “What…?”
“They’re with me,” Engineer chuckled, patting Pyro’s shoulder. He pulled his playing card from his pocket and presented it to the cashier. “Here. I was told this would cover the purchase?”
“Oh. Oh, ohhh. I see. Do they have one too…?”
Pyro proudly presented their own card, holding it up next to Engineer’s.
“Great. I’ll stick your things in a bag for you. Hurry up and get back there.”
Once their items were bagged, Pyro skipped back into the hideout, with a winded Engineer at their heels.
“Whew…okay. Gimme…a second, Pyro,” grunted Engineer as he sat down on Pyro’s bed. Where the hell do they get all that energy from? It’s almost midnight. I’m fixing to fall asleep right here.
Pyro gave him a thumbs up and started shovelling items out of their bags and lining them up on the floor.
Engineer slipped off the bed and shuffled over to Pyro, helping them start to place their items.
“Here. I’ll lift you up so you can put your stars up there,” Engineer offered, motioning for Pyro to come over to him.
With several bags of plastic stars in hand, Pyro hurried over and climbed onto Engineer’s shoulders.
“Huddah huhmm hummph?” asked Pyro.
“I…I can place a few, yeah.” Engineer carried Pyro around the room at their command. He watched the stars pass through Pyro’s careful hands to the ceiling, unable to keep himself from smiling wide enough that his cheeks hurt.
After emptying half of the bags, Pyro slipped off Engineer’s shoulders before turning around and hoisting Engineer up.
“Whoa there, careful,” said Engineer as he started attaching stars of his own, wherever Pyro directed him to.
When all was said and done, the two mercenaries looked around the room. Pyro nodded, seeming satisfied.
Engineer beamed, staring up at the stars above him. He gave Pyro a firm but gentle pat on the back. “Looks mighty fine, son.”
“Humpph! Huddah humm,” grunted Pyro as they dashed off towards their desk.
“Huh? What’d you forget?”
Pyro held up an empty picture frame before setting it back down. They began furiously scribbling at a piece of paper with some newly-obtained crayons and pencils. “Hummh hmm,” they instructed.
“I’ll…” Engineer paused to yawn, taking a seat in one of Pyro’s beanbags. “...wait here, then.”
Engineer had nearly slipped into a peaceful slumber when Pyro tried to get his attention again. “Hummph! Huddah huddah.”
Sitting up, Engineer looked around. “What? Huh? What’s done?”
Pyro hurried over to Engineer, proudly holding out their picture frame. It was now decorated in little stickers resembling flames and skulls and rainbows. Within the frame was a drawing of Pyro and Engineer. It said something at the bottom, but through tired eyes, Engineer could not discern what the words were.
“Nice drawin’, Smokey. Where are you gonna put it?”
Pyro hopped over to their desk and placed it carefully next to their lamp. “Hud-aaaahhhh!”
Engineer rose to his feet, nodding. “Well done. Now, if you’ll ‘scuse me, I’ve gotta turn in for the night. I dunno how much longer I can keep my eyes open.”
“Mmph. Mummmph hmm?” asked Pyro, tumbling into their bed once more.
“Sure,” Engineer replied, flicking their lights off. A loud gasp sounded from behind Engineer.
“Huh?” What’s—”
Engineer looked up to find the plastic stars glowing in the dark, just brightly enough to make Pyro’s excited shaking visible.
A grin again graced Engineer’s tired face. “Well then. Ain’t that something,” he said, reaching up and under his goggles to rub the sleep from his eyes.
Pyro nodded, still vibrating with glee. They clasped one of their plushies to their chest.
“G’night, Pyro. Try an’ get some good sleep. We got lots to figure out tomorrow.”
“Huddah, duhhmd,” Pyro replied, waving as Engineer shut the door behind him.
Engineer’s body locked up as the door clicked shut. He remained frozen in the hallway, his hand still on the doorknob. Dad?
He stumbled back into his room, rubbing his forehead. Without looking, he kicked his boots off next to his desk, before approaching the closet door next to his bed.
Dad. That’s what they said, ain’t it? Maybe? No, I’m probably just hearing things. Just figments of my sleep-deprived imagination. Dammit, I picked a mighty fine week to try and pull all-nighters…
Engineer slipped into his pajamas, flicking his own lights off and crawling into bed. A sort of warm feeling had settled in his chest, one that had no intention of leaving despite his attempts to ignore it in pursuit of sleep.
Just get some sleep, Dell. Save the thinking for tomorrow.
Chapter 6: PARKOUR II: THREE POVS FEELS LIKE OVERKILL BUT UHHHH
Chapter Text
(bad news, everyone: this entire chapter was literally written into the outline as “[scout] tries to do hawaiian splash parkour and fRICXKING DIES. [soldier] also frioicking doies. (theyy dont actually [scout] just gets 401k'd and idk what happens to [soldier] yet stay tuned for the message from our sponso”. That’s it!! That’s all I wrote for this blasted chapter! I’m maKING ALL OF THIS UP AS I GO)
Tuesday, November 9th, 1965
TEUFORT, NM - 2FORT - AFTERNOON
He licked the stray drops of energy drink from his lips, grasping his bat a little tighter. Save the lecture for respawn, my ass. Yeah, let’s see you lecture me now, Spy!
Scout sprinted into RED’s fort, whipping around walls and up and down flights of stairs. He stopped, only for a moment, to take in the empty fort around him. The hell was he even worried about? There aren’t even any freaking robots!
He zigzagged downstairs, sliding to a stop at the entrance to the intelligence room. Creeping around the wall, he poked his head out past the entryway to study the room. There were no robots, no sentries, not even a set of bombs or a teleporter. Only a dark room illuminated by fizzling screens.
“What a frickin’ waste of time! You bozos didn’t even TRY to protect your intelligence!” Scout scoffed, sauntering up to the red briefcase resting untouched on the desk. He reached out to grab it, but his fingers froze inches from it.
Might be a trap. Kind of weird that they’re doing this bad of a job protecting it. Scout crouched, tiptoeing around the desk to see if it was altered in some way. Wait. That’s something Spy would do. It ain’t a trap, what am I thinking?
He rose to his feet and stood over the briefcase, tapping it a few times. A grin crept onto his face as he stared down at it. Seeing as I got time…if I just sit here and wait a little, the others are gonna think the robots got me. Oh, I can see it now.
Scout hopped over the desk and started rifling through drawers. He snatched up a pen and hurried into the middle of the room, lifting the pen to his lips as though it were a cigarette.
“Hon hon hon! I’m Spy and Scout’s so stupid! He’s dead like I told him he would be!” cried Scout in an impression of Spy that left much to be desired.
Scout flopped over onto his knees, sliding his headset onto the bridge of his nose and tossing his hat off to the side. He threw his hand over his forehead and wailed, “nooo! Scout! Not the sexiest man in the world! My one true love even though I haven’t said anything about it yet!”
He hopped to his feet, grabbing his hat and holding it to his chest. “That’s a, uh, darn…rootin’ tootin’ shame or whatever,” he grunted, readjusting his headset as though it were a pair of goggles.
Scout returned his headset to the top of his head before lifting his hat to his face, pretending to take a bite out of the brim. “Oh no! Not our strongest mercenary! Who will Heavy have to fight with over sandwich now?”
Running back into the hallway, Scout replaced his hat and swaggered back into the room. “Relax, fellas. Lookin’ for something?” He lifted his hand and motioned to the imaginary briefcase he was holding.
He again slipped the pen in the corner of his mouth. “No! Curses! Swearing in French! I’ve been foiled again!”
Scout crawled back onto his knees, reaching up as though he were holding someone’s legs. “Scout! My hero! You’ve saved BLU again!”
He slowly rose again, staring down at his empty hands. His shoulders sagged and his chest sunk. A hero. That would be pretty nice. Or even a thank you.
Turning his head, he glanced over at the briefcase. I’ll make them proud of me. They won’t have no choice BUT to be proud of me. I’m gonna do such a bang-up job, they’ll—
“Scout! What the hell are you doing?” bellowed a voice from behind him.
Scout whipped around to find Soldier, the rim of his helmet reflecting the flickering lights on the room’s walls.
“Sol— Soldier?! What the hell are YOU doing?!” Scout grunted, storming up to him. “I have this one-hundred percent UNDER CONTROL.”
“You have been staring off into space aimlessly for at least sixty seconds! I would not call that under control,” said Soldier.
“Soldier, get back to BLU! I’m totally fine down here! Just let me handle this.” He’s going to get all the credit. I have to do this alone.
“No,” Solider huffed. “We have already lost one man to the robots! I will not allow them to take another.”
“Shhh! Those robots are gonna hear you, dumbass. Just go. I’ll be right behind you.”
Soldier shook his head. “I am following you, Scout. Grab the intelligence and get going.”
Scout stomped his foot and gritted his teeth. “Soldier, listen. Have YOU got several cans of Bonk in case you need to make a darin' escape? You faster than a speedin’ bullet? Yeah? No? Didn’t think so. Yours truly can make it out of here before you can blink. So turn around and get out of here while you can.”
Soldier rubbed his chin. “Scout, you underestimate my talent for sniffing out deceit. You’re trying to hide something and I know it.
Before Scout could utter another half-convincing argument, the sound of footsteps rattled into his range of hearing. He reached out and grasped Soldier by the arms.
“You dummy! They know we’re down here!”
“Do not worry, Scout! These robots will taste American explosives!”
“I thought we were trying NOT to beat up the robots just yet?”
Scoffing, Soldier slung his rocket launcher over his shoulder. “According to Spy, who is clearly trying to get all of us to engage in his sneaky spy ways. I say we blow them to bits!”
“Hate to be the voice of reason here, but. The whole…autobalancing thing?”
“Irrelevant! I will blow them up faster than they can autobalance us!”
Scout retrieved his bat and waved it around. “Okay. I can get behind a plan like that.” Once he gets distracted fighting them, I take the intel and leave.
Scout and Soldier waited for an army of robots that never came. The slow footsteps faded back into the darkness and the basement returned to its ambience of clicking and whirring.
“...the frick…?” Scout grunted, holding his bat a little tighter.
“These are classic robot tricks,” Soldier huffed. “Watch my six. I’ll watch yours.”
Scout slid into position behind Soldier so that they were back to back. His eyes darted across each screen in the room, using each one to look for any movement. He settled on one that displayed a man lying on a table with several figures hunched over him.
The man on the screen seemed familiar somehow, even as he appeared to be screaming and thrashing about on the table. Hang on…holy crap, I think that’s Doc—
Hands materialized next to Scout’s, grabbing the handle of his own bat and thrusting it into his forehead. Scout moaned, tumbling to the ground.
Scout, now lying on his side as he tried to recollect himself, watched Solider start yelling incoherently. The spybot grasped Soldier’s rocket launcher and tried to pry it from his grip.
“YOU! CANNOT! HAVE THIS!” Soldier bellowed, pulling the weapon towards himself.
Stumbling to his feet, Scout raised his bat to swing at the spybot, but was rudely interrupted by the feeling of a massive set of metal knuckles digging into his ribcage.
Scout was flung into the glass wall at the end of the room with enough force to send a mosaic of cracks up and down it. A heavybot now approached him on swaying feet, preparing to deliver a second blow.
“Stand down, you crappy heap of junk!” Soldier yowled, tacking the heavybot from behind. He wrestled it to the ground, even as the spybot tried to stab him.
“Scout! Get the intelligence and get out of here! I’ll–” Solider grunted in pain as the spybot’s dagger slipped into his arm “–hold them off!”
Scout crawled over to the table, reaching out to grab the briefcase. A metal bat came down on his wrist, causing Scout to crumple and clutch his hand to his chest. He looked up, only to find a robot resembling himself staring back at him.
“Hey now, no one out-Scouts Scout,” snapped Scout, pushing himself up with his good hand.
“Functionally, I am superior to you,” the scoutbot said.
“Functionally, you suck.” Scout smashed his own bat upside the robot’s head, toppling it.
“Soldier! You…you sure you got this under control?” he asked, kicking the scoutbot out of the way.
“Affirmative,” grunted Soldier from underneath the pile of robots now attempting to subdue him.
Metal legs swung at Scout’s knees, causing Scout to stumble backwards into the glass wall again. This time, the wall caved, allowing Scout to tumble into the room below.
Scout dragged himself up again, dusting off shards of glass in vain. Almost instinctively, he opened his mouth to call for help. Right. Right, no Medic. Well, who needs him? It’s just a few shards of glass.
Slivers of glass dug under his skin like speckles of barbed wire, making each movement its own sort of pain. Just…stupid shards of glass…
He looked up at the room now above him, the sound of Soldier’s muffled yelling still trickling from the single shattered windowpane. I ain’t getting back up there from here. Gonna have to go around.
Scout reached into his bag and took out two energy drinks, pouring both into his mouth simultaneously. The pain from the glass nestled in his body melted away, allowing Scout to effortlessly chuck the now empty cans over his shoulder.
He barreled through the room and into the only doorway in sight. The hallway it opened up into was dark and hollow, not winding but unrelentingly long.
Every time he could feel his strength start to slip from him again, he whipped out another energy drink and downed the whole thing in one go. Come on. I just gotta get out of here, get the intelligence and get back. No big deal.
When Scout did finally emerge from the hallway, he found himself in entirely unfamiliar surroundings. Trees mingled with the tufts of clouds above him, speckling the dirt and clay underfoot with patches of sunlight. The RED and BLU fortressess were just meager buildings fighting with the horizon now.
“The hell?” Scout rasped between heavy breaths. “Ain’t no frickin’ way that stupid tunnel was so long.”
He poured another can of Bonk down his throat. Well. A whole hike for them’s a walk in the park for me.
The sound of whirring machinery and humming engines encroached, beginning to surround him on all sides. Scout looked around, finding robots lining up with weaponry in spades.
“Very funny, fellas. Let’s all try and shoot Scout. You’re forgettin’ I’m too fast for you to hit.”
From within the sea of robots, a single one emerged, wearing a yellow hardhat and clutching a wrench in its chipped hands.
“You’re making this harder for yourself than it needs to be. We are trying to help you,” insisted the engibot. “This will benefit both of us.”
Scout motioned to the still-growing rows of pistols and shotguns leveled at his head. “That don’t look a whole lot like help to me, pal.”
“Put your weapons and drinks aside and surrender. If you don’t, we will make do with your corpse.”
“Soundin’ even less like help now,” muttered Scout, taking a step backwards. “What do you want?”
“Join us. It isn’t an offer. We will assimilate you into our ranks. Necessity dictates it. You don’t need to be suffering like this.”
“You sound like Hardhat after way too many beers. But like a robot, and dumber. Stop speakin’ in riddles and crap and spell it out for me in normal words, Beep-Boop.”
The engibot reached up and crushed Scout’s wrist in its vise grip. “You wouldn’t understand it no matter what way we phrase it. Humans are resistant to change.”
Scout wriggled out of the engibot’s grasp and scrambled to his feet. Gunfire, bullets, and the smell of spent gunpowder filled the air, showering Scout in leaden rain.
He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, plowing through energy drinks to keep him at top speed. “You’re wastin’ bullets, morons!” he cackled, waltzing over rocks and bluffs with jagged grace.
As he wove through trees, it occurred to him he had no idea where he was going. Shoot. Need to get back to the fort. He whipped his head around, trying to spot the fortresses through the patchy rows of trees.
His bones started to ache again. Scout reached into his bag, only to find nothing. He clawed at fabric, coming up empty.
Exhaustion hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t suck air in fast enough. Come on! Keep running! I can’t stop now! If I do—
His legs buckled underneath him, sending him flying into the ground. A fleeting sting of panic shot up his spine as he made contact with the rocky blur under him.
Stones and fallen branches bit at his skin as he rolled across the ground, the earth tossing him into dried-up plants and the occasional cactus. He finally came to a stop upon slamming into a rocky outcropping perched at the top of a hill.
He felt the first bullet bury itself in his ankle. Scout screamed at his body to do something, anything, but his body had gone completely limp; his mind was reduced to waves of static.
Another bullet bounced off the rock looming over him, somewhere by his head. His body twitched to the side as he started to regain feeling. An inferno of pain engulfed him at once.
Scout wobbled to his knees before falling over with a sharp gasp. The world still swam with murky browns and faded greens. He couldn’t tell the sky apart from the ground.
I just…have to keep running. With all too much confidence, he tried to right himself and place his foot in front of him.
Pain shot up his leg. Scout whipped his head down to study the newly formed bullet wound in his ankle. He stared down at the splotches of red soaking into his socks.
Like a thousand teeth sinking into his chest at once, dread overwhelmed him. He couldn’t run anymore.
Lead wedged itself in him again, finding a home in his thigh. Scout yowled, clutching his wounded leg to his chest. He kicked at the dirt with his good leg, trying to scoot away from the rocks.
Behind him was not more rock but rather the rest of the hill, sending him into another flailing descent. He flopped through bushes until finally coming to rest in a thick cluster of plants resting under a rock shelter.
The feeble remnants of a creek greeted Scout’s bloodied face with a muddy welcome. His body sunk into the sharp edges of the brush and rocks under him.
Scout strained himself to listen for the gunshots around him. They still rang out, fewer and fewer, growing more distant. Once they faded out of his range of hearing, he pushed himself onto his back.
Face up, he stared at the marbled shades of brown overhead through the thorns and wilting leaves. Maybe if I call for him he’ll still hear me, somehow.
“Doc…?” rasped Scout through shallow breaths. “Doc, if you can hear me, I…”
Scout stopped to try and breathe. He tossed his hands onto his chest, clawing at his ribcage as though it would help somehow.
They’ll find me. They’ve gotta find me. I’m the Scout! What would they do without me?
He let out a scratchy chuckle, what little of one he could manage through the jabbing pain in his side. Spy’s probably throwing a freaking party over this.
Hope started to trickle from him as steadily as the blood from his cuts, wounds, and gashes, seeping into the ground at his back. Denial did not come as easily and quickly as it always had.
He reached up and clasped the dog tags resting on his shuddering body. I wish Ma was here.
NocturnLily on Chapter 2 Tue 12 Aug 2025 08:33PM UTC
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like_a_cuisinart on Chapter 2 Tue 12 Aug 2025 11:27PM UTC
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Jimbohimbo on Chapter 5 Sun 14 Sep 2025 05:12AM UTC
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like_a_cuisinart on Chapter 5 Mon 15 Sep 2025 05:02PM UTC
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