//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: I Did All I Could // Story: Twilight's Demoman Devastation // by Darrtaa //------------------------------// Disclaimer: I don't own My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic or any of the characters, nor do I own Team Fortress 2 or any of its characters. I do, however, own Copper Head and Captain Ajax. The pressure, why is it always the pulsating pressure in the temples? 'Wake up…come on, wake up you fool…' Spy's eyes flickered open, but he quickly clamped them shut as Celestia's harsh sun scorched his drossy eyes. 'The sun? What time is it…how long have I been out?' He tried to move his hands only to find that moving one resulted in the other moving along with it via shackle. The French saboteur cursed under his breath, he should have known that even talking, candy-colored ponies would know better than to leave someone of his caliber to his own devices…which he also noticed were missing from his person. Spy forced his bloodshot eyes to stay open this time despite the sunbeams streaking through the side-by-side blasted out holes in the walls. The ballroom was still in horrible disarray from the battle the night before, although the cleaning crews had been able to remove the larger pieces of rubble, the over-turned tables and wasted food still laid scattered about the cracked floor. Spy shifted his gaze over to the other side of the once lavish hall; Celestia, Luna, and the guard captains had gathered around one of the few undamaged tables to discuss what torture method would be best for extracting information out of the semiconscious infiltrator. Or, at least that's the conclusion Spy came to. 'How did it ever come to this?' he thought as he rubbed his aching head. ††† 2 Weeks Ago ††† New Mexico; a land of prosperity, wealth, tourist trade, lying travel agents, and a whole lot of dust with a few exceptions. Hydro, a large communications array secured within a water-filled basin, was one of these exceptions and was highly sought after by two groups of highly unstable mercenaries that had battled for control over the rest of the God-forsaken desert for reasons neither party was one hundred percent sure about. All they knew was that if one team wanted it, it had to be valuable, and the other team was going to make damn sure that they didn't get it. Sadly, in order to perform said tactical cock-block, BOTH teams would be forced to uproot all their expensive gear from whatever hole they had dug themselves into and haul it ALL the way over to the site of the next skirmish. This was nowhere near as easy as it sounds. For reasons unknown even to them, both teams had a tendency to construct extremely elaborate fortresses in very short amounts of time; with multi-leveled underground bunkers containing sensitive material, security cameras throughout, living quarters, tennis courts, lap pools, and large walk-in hat closets. The downside to these lavish living conditions was that whatever goes up, must be tediously taken apart piece by piece and put back into the correct box or so help you GOD that little doodad will never be found or work properly ever again. It is within the depths of Hydro that the crew from Reliable Excavation Demolition are midway through one of these uprooting sessions, and as the blazing sun beat relentlessly against skin and rock alike, temperatures weren't the only things close to breaking point. "C'mon…just a little…more…" grunted the Engineer as sweat ran down his reddened features and fogged up his goggles as he poured whatever strength he had left into pulling the stubborn rope. "I'm impressed, mate," Sniper said and he watched the stout Texan attach yet another large piece of equipment onto the already over-packed roof of his van, "I wasn't sure it could be done, but, there it is…" "It wouldn't…have been in such a state of doubt…if ya'd just…HELPED ME! There!" Dell gave the rope one last yank and secured the last of the ping-pong tables to a computer tower that roughly as big as he was. "That should just about do it. Say, where in the hell is everybody? I thought Scout was going to go and-" Sniper raised an eyebrow as he gestured towards one of the caves that dotted the canyon that had a faint snoring sound emanating from within, "-get his ass kicked the ol' fashioned way, SCOUT!" The snoring stopped with an abrupt snort, followed shortly by incomprehensible muttering and not much else. "Dammit, boy; SCOUT! GIT OUT HERE, WE NEED YA TA ROUND UP THE REST'A THE TEAM!" The tired man's echoing shouts fell on indifferent ears as the reconnaissances expert elected to ignore the southern gentleman and go back to all of the nothing that needed to get done. After watching the small vein in the Engineer's forehead grow twice in size, Mr. Mundy decided that he should step in before his friend dug out his Sentry and switched its target settings from "BLU" to "that darned Boston kid". "Aww, don't waste your time, mate. He's not comin' down anytime- well g'day Ms. Pauling! I didn't see ya there, all drippin' wet in that bikini you've got barley covering your-" "Hel-LO Ms. Pauling! Hey, if you eva wanna see ME after I just get done swimmin' a hundred or so laps, I gotta say, it's pretty awe-GAAHK!" Scout and his windpipe were cut off by an oversized yellow work glove as Dell pulled the rapid recovery agent closer so that he wouldn't miss what he had to say: "GIT GOIN' AND CORRAL THE REST OF OUR TEAM!" Engie barked, lifting Scout's headset so that his voice rattled around in his tiny little head with crystal quality. "Ow, geez! Alright, I'll go get the rest'a the fricken' team…" the twenty-three year old track star grumbled as he rubbed his sore throat and shot the Sniper a dirty look. "Hope dat fancy scope a' yours gets a real good look at my ass walkin' away, you lying no-good boony." Sniper only laughed as he readjusted his hat, "Oh come off it, if any woman was walkin' 'round here without clothes on, do you think we'd be broadcasting it for everyone to hear and ruin our chances with 'er?" +++++ Scout didn't like being underground, or in any small space for that matter. In the past, he had met his demise on more than one occasion from not having the proper amount of space to move about in, whether it was a tunnel, cramped hallway, air duct, or a closing trash compacter on the detention level. The rest of RED Team was aware of his phobia, which the highly intellectual Engineer used as an incentive to make the up and coming major league dropout work twice as fast to get in, round up the other six classes, and get out. The first of notably dangerous lost sheep he had come to herd was Heavy, still sitting in his now empty room with his metallic girlfriend, Sasha. "Eh, tons o' fun," Scout yawned as he cleared his free ear of any extra wax that hadn't been baked onto his ear from the blazing heat, "Engie says we gotta' move." The large Russian man looked up at him and said nothing before nodding, standing up with his beloved minigun still cradled in his massive arms. Scout watched him to make sure that the slowest member of the team went the right way so that he wouldn't have to backtrack to go looking for him, although his heavy footsteps would make him easy enough to track in any situation other than a rocket taking off. Scout turned to venture further into the depths when an idea illuminated his four watt brain. "Big guy," Heavy stopped and looked back at the little man with a stern expression, "you seen the doc anywhere?" This gave the shaved bear pause for thought, scratching the five o'clock shadow that lined his prominent chin. He thought for a moment before snapping his fingers, "Come along, doktor." The gunmetal grey door behind Scout flew open and there stood Medic, wearing his iconic white lab coat and carrying a gold birdcage that housed his faithful dove, Archimedes. The tall German physician looked down at the Boston ballplayer through his thin-rimmed spectacles and motioned for him to move with his cage-free hand. "Zank you. Now, Heavy, let's be on our way," he said unnecessarily bumping Scout as he past and headed out with Heavy back to where Dell was waiting. Scout grumbled an insult before storming back down the hall in the opposite direction. Medic and Scout had never been what on would call "chummy", in fact, if they had been brought together under any other circumstances they would have probably torn each other to shreds. Or not even acknowledge one another, or discover that they both hate Dan Quayle, share phone numbers, become the best of friends, fight over the same girl, find out she's actually a hooker, start a business together, burn said business for the insurance when it starts failing, and live in harmony. The point is that this was not the case. Medic had always looked down on Scout, not just because he was taller, but because he didn't think that Scout was worth his precious time. The Medic's job was fairly straight forward: heal those who needed healing…and provide Über Charges for when the metaphorical dung hit the windshield. That was also metaphorical. Thank the Lord that didn't actually happen all that often outside of trips to the zoo. Naturally Medic thought it best to "pocket" the larger, more durable classes for a more desired effect when granting temporary invulnerability. Soldier, Demoman, Pyro, and most of all Heavy received the larger half of his attention as they could cause unimaginable amounts of damage were they not subject to their mortal coils. This meant that all the other members of the team were left out in the metaphorical rain…which was actually bullets, rockets, bombs, syringes, pot and pans, or whatever was being lobbed at them at the time. So Scout never really got along too well with the selective physician, he was also positive that another reason why Medic avoided him was because he was too fast for him. Yeah, that's it, Scout was just too good, and didn't need some bratwurst-smelling doc slowing him down! With a renewed sense of pride fueling his struts, Scout headed down the poorly lit hallway in search of the other four sluts. After what seemed like an eternity to him, the youngest member of RED Team finally managed to round up all of companions…just in time for Engie to learn that that Sniper had left his keys in his jacket that was now buried somewhere deep within the swaying mountain of accumulated gear. With Dell Conagher successfully talked down from jumping off the highest peak of the luggage mountain, the crew from Reliable Excavation Demolition was finally on their way back to the dreary little speck known as Teufort, and took in all the sights along the way: the majesty of Offblast, the raw power of Nucleus, the semi-rich history of Dustbowl, the uh…majesty of Offblast? "OI! Someone get out the bloody map!" "Hmm, well, looks like we WERE headin' the right way for a spell. But now-" "We are lost! Lost in the middle of this wasteland! When trapped in a van in the middle of nowhere, Sun Tzu says-" "What da hell does dat sign say? 'Next Left: Inns, Mining Museum, and-'" "Maa Mranr Murmur!? Mhmhmhmhm!" "Vhat vas that? Y~ES! Good times!" "I dun, wha?" "Ohh, zat is not good for ze body, but, eh…vhat ze hell! I'm starved!" "Oh, merde; not zat disgusting hovel again…" +++++ Keith didn't have what one would call an "exciting" life. Sure he had his fun on the weekends with his friends busting dunes and pelting each other with dislodged masonry, but ever since school ended, all he had to look forward to was when his shift ended. Unfortunately for Keith, his shift started ten minutes ago and the lunch rush was just starting up as the various creatures and people wandered out of the scorching desert in search of poorly prepared fast-food. Keith sighed as his itchy headset alerted him that a costumer was pulling up to the drive-thru by screeching loudly in his ear. "Welcome to Burger Tank, home of the Tank Burger, how can I provide you with excellent service today?" Keith said mechanically. "G'day! Uh, you might wanna get some paper, mate. We've got a lotta orders for ya," the Australian man's voice crackled over the comm. Keith never knew what hit him, soon, the entire fast-food joint was buzzing like bees that were just on the receiving end of an M80. Burgers, fries, and anyone not able to get to a safe distance flew through the air as the sorely undermanned establish rushed to fill the insanely large order for the waiting mercs. When it was all over, it took Keith and three other employees just to haul the massive order out to the aged camping van. "Thank you…please come again…" Keith gasped as he wiped a few rouge beads of sweat from beneath his white and red Burger Tank cap. "No worries, mate. We'll probably hit this place up again on the back," Mr. Mundy said innocently as the large order was consumed behind him with alarming speed by the eight other killers crammed into the dirty van. +++++ Three hours and one emergency restroom break later, the REDs had been forced to pull over near one of the many abandoned mining facilities thanks to the massive weight that had been heaped onto their only means of transportation causing the strained engine to overeat. "Well, that darn thing's busted as far's I can tell. Guess we'll just hafta wait till it cools," Dell coughed as he stepped back from the fumes spewing from the van's radiator. "GAAH! This sucks on ice! I mean COME ON, there's nothin' ta do around here!" Scout moaned as he bounced his baseball off the deteriorating side of one of the structures. Despite their hours of travel, the scorching sun had seldom moved from its celestial perch in the great blue sky, raining down heat waves that had everyone in a lazy afternoon mood (or lazy whatever-the-actual-time-was mood). The only source of shade that wasn't wasn't completely covered in spiders was the rising and falling shadow of Scout's ball, which would return to his bandaged hand with a faint thud before being unenthusiastically tossed into the air once again. "So BOOOOOARD! Hey Engie! Can't you make some sorta air-cooling thing-a-majig that shoots outta yer ass? And how much longer is the van gonna be coolin' off? 'Cause ol' bushwhack over der said it was 'good to go' an hour ago and I think that he's fulla cr- HEY!" Scout's ball failed to return to its master's hand for what would have been a much more elaborate list of complaints had it not been stolen by the Russians. Well, one Russian to be exact. One that had had just about enough of the whiny Boston ballplayer. "Tiny running baby want something to do? Let us play 'toss and find'; Heavy tosses…" the giant man wound up, "tiny man finds!" The worn ball rocketed off into the distance with a slight twinkle from the sun before disappearing completely. Scout was certainly relieved of his boredom (if only to have it replaced by annoyance and heatstroke), Heavy had thrown his favorite ball so far that the twenty-three year old had already gone through four BONK! Atomic Energy Drinks and two Crit-A-Colas just to keep himself hydrated. He was about to call it quits and just have the shaved bear fork over the money to buy a new ball, when he saw it. There, lying on what used to be a wooden crate for storing medical waste, was the alabaster orb of his desires. All he had to do was walk a few yards, kneel down… …and pry it from the other bandaged hand that was also reaching for it. Scout looked up, a boy of similar build wearing a blue track jacket with a "#13" up on the collar. His face was covered by a dark grey skull with twisted horns the same color as his jacket and golden eyes that reflected Scout's confused expression. In his hands was a familiar scattergun, but with festive lights wrapped around it. The two just sat there for a moment, partly stunned and partly waiting for the other to make the first move. That was not the case, however, as neither of the cocky little buggers were about to be outdone. *BLAM* Sniper's ear twitched, his powerful senses allowing him to intercept the exchange of gunfire in the distance over the bickering that was going on back at camp. He sighed and grabbed his rifle, no doubt BLU's marksman had heard it as well and they would be the first of their teams to engage at such a distance. "Let's. Get. TO IT!" ††† PRESENT DAY ††† Spy was thrust back into reality with a guard's spear poking him in the shoulder. "Get up. SLOWLY…" Spy raised an eyebrow. If these "Royal Guards" had undergone any training regarding appearance in the face of an adversary, they had either failed that part of bootcamp (would it be hoofcamp? No, some of the ponies were wearing boots earlier), or seeing a human really was that jarring. Spy complied, he slid his feet underneath himself and stood, his full height once again causing the guards to lose their composure enough that only Spy noticed. He chuckled. "So, are we off to ze stable for some oats and salt licks?" "Uh…no? The Princesses have requested your presence," the guard pulled Spy down to his level by telekinetically yanking on his tie, "and I'd be careful about what you say to them; Celestia sent her own sister to the moon for a thousand years because Luna turned into a dark goddess when she felt under appreciated." "Oh…" The guard smirked, if this shaved monkey had received any training about maintaining a good poker face, he must've slept through it.