Trapped in Badwater Basin

by Willowwolf

Chapter 1: Anticipation

Above ground, sounds of gunshots, ricocheting bullets and empty struggle shot out from an enclosed battlefield. Rockets, bombs, and angry glances flew haphazardly over the weathered desert terrain. The war was going nowhere, and the men were going nowhere as well. In a few short minutes the battle would be decided, a victory fanfare would play over the loudspeaker, and the men would wait in a small square room until the day’s next conflict.

Hundreds of feet down, under a layer of dirt, a layer of rock, and a thick tempered layer of stainless steel sat the Announcer, posed in front of her sixteen-panel display. She sat in contemplation, her long fingernails making a ratta-tat against her smooth plastic armrest. On most days she would watch the screens intently, working the camera angles and typing up the score and killfeed at a million words per minute. Today, however, she had a guest, and it wasn’t just management to bring her toast and black coffee. Her guest didn’t have any security clearance, and yet here he stood before her, seven feet tall in a three piece suit. He was unexpected and entirely unaccounted for. As they sat and chatted, they made eye contact at an odd angle to her metal desk.

“So let me get this straight,” said the Announcer, slightly amused, “you don’t work here and yet you’ve managed to end up in the very center of this very secure facility and none of the staff have managed to spot you yet.”

“Well, yes, I suppose you could say that,” said Discord, “though I must say it took barely any effort to get here. These walls are made of plain metal, you know. If anything, the walls conduct magic, rather than hindering it.”

“Well, I guess since you’re already here there’s not much I can do,” said the Announcer. “If I call management to throw you out, it would put the entire company on edge. They take security very seriously here. I guess I don’t blame them, with all the guns and bullets flying about up top.”

The Announcer shifted some weight to her armrest, her bony fist pressing up against her face. She was poised in her chair, eyes half-glossed over, and only slightly interested in what the god of chaos had to say.

“So, why are you here?” she asked, her other hand flipping over in a weak inquisitive gesture.

“I mean, it’s not a particularly exciting job,” she continued, “Of course I get a laugh here and there, and the pay is pretty good, but most of the time it’s just working numbers. Lots and lots of numbers. Red Scout died once. Mark one for Red Scout Deaths, and mark one in the kill column for the other poor sap that got the high ground on him. The Red Demoman sent the Blue Sentry skyward. One point for the Demoman, and an ear-piercing alarm for the blue Engineer. The blue spy managed to chain-stab the entire red offense again, so we’ve got to account for that too . . .”

Her voice trailed off, and a blank expression washed over her face.

“It just gets so blasted boring sometimes. Sometimes I wish something would happen. Something that hasn’t already happened a thousand times before.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m here to help you with,” Discord resolved. “After all, is there any harm in introducing a little fun every now and then?”

• • •

“Where are we?” Twilight asked from the center of the room, though she wasn’t expecting a good answer. “Is everyone okay?”

“Ah feel fine.”

“Um, okay I guess.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’m fine.”

“I feel great, Twilight! Can we do it again?”

(“No.”)

“I’m feeling pretty awesome, Twilight.” The most modest pony of the group paused for a moment in thought.

“But come to think of it I guess I always feel this awesome. So what spell did you botch this time, Twilight?”

“I didn’t do anything, Rainbow, I swear this time it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah save it for next time Twilight, can you just get us back so I can keep on training?”

“Sure thing. Everypony ready?”

Without much effort Twilight produced a small purple aura at the tip of her horn, which quickly grew to encompass all six of them. In a bright flash of light, the six ponies disappeared for home, and in another flash of light they reappeared in the center of the very same room.

“Come on Twilight, stop fooling around,” Rainbow said, slightly annoyed, but upon looking over at Twilight she took back her words.

Twilight was frazzled and confused.

“I didn’t bring us here and I don't think I can get us home. Something is keeping me from getting a magic lock on Ponyville. Since we’re here - and presumably stuck - we’d better figure out where exactly ‘here’ is.”

The room was relatively small, brightly lit, and painted white except for the tasteful red trim along its perimeter. There was a bench near the edge of the room, and next to it a cabinet containing all sorts of first aid. A wide metal door represented the only way out of the room, and it was locked. A bookshelf caught Twilight’s eye, but to her dismay it was filled with metal instead of books.

“Hello little ponies.” A familiar villainous voice came suddenly from the loudspeaker. “I know this is probably not how you saw yourselves spending the afternoon, but I really think you’ll come to enjoy it. I’ve made a new friend, you see, who watches men play games all day. From what she told me, it sounds like it would be an absolute blast to play with you ponies. I can’t wait to get started, but first she’ll fill you in on some of the details.”

A faint metallic screech and a fumbling noise punctuated the change of speaker.

“Listen up men, err, horses, or whatever you are, today’s game will be Payload, on the map Badwater Basin. This means there’s a heavy little cart for you to pull. The people dressed in Blue are your enemies. They will do everything they can to prevent you from getting the cart to the end of the tracks.”

“Enemies?” spouted Fluttershy incredulously, her legs shaking as she realized that she’d spoken up.

“Yeah, if you want someone to move that cart so badly,” added Applejack, “wouldn’t it make a lot more sense to work together?”

The loudspeaker regressed to a feeble static hum.

“It’s a game, little ponies,” Discord retorted sharply. “The cart doesn’t mean anything, the game doesn’t mean anything. Not even the men mean anything, really. It’s just all in good fun. If you can get that cart down the tracks, you can go back home.”

And the ponies, unable to get home by themselves and unable to see their new supervisors, realized that’s exactly the way it had to be.

• • •

Over at the blue base, the team was aglow with anticipation of the upcoming three day weekend. They were lounging around the break room, slowly whittling down their last hours on the clock. Like most of the facility, the room was composed of concrete with some wooden accents, but it felt homely enough. Sniper was playing darts with Soldier, and Engineer was tinkering with bits of metal on the hardwood floor. Across the room on the beaten-up couch, Spy and Scout were laughing about the stupid happenings of the last few matches, and Pyro was over at the snack bar delicately trying to re-melt the sugar on a glazed donut. Heavy and Medic were sitting in the easy chairs talking to each other quietly, and Demoman was passed out peacefully on the center of the floor.

“Can’t wait for the weekend,” someone said.

“Just a few more hours,” said another.

A familiar voice came over the loudspeaker. “Break time’s over. Get ready for battle.”

Everyone slowly finished their conversations, got up, and made their way to the next room over.

“Today we’re going to change the rules a bit,” stated the Announcer in an unwavering voice. “The upcoming battle will be unlike those you’ve experienced before.”

“Oh what is it this time lady?” babbled Scout, equal parts excited and agitated. “Do we have to wear bigger hats this time? Is it melee-only?”

“Bitte schweigen, Scout,” said Medic. “It’s only for one more match. Whatever it is, it can’t be zat bad.”

“I don’t know, Doktor,” said Heavy, with his eyes on the ceiling in deep contemplation. “Maybe this time is not the same.”

“I don’t trust the Announcer on this one,” said the normally soft spoken Sniper. “She’s got a weird tinge to her voice. I can’t imagine it’s good for us.”

As the team suited up and chose arms from the supply shelves, the atmosphere was thick with unease.

Comments

[The Scout]

First comment! I always win a race

[The Scout]

8090278 pretty great but you wouldn't catch me with that backstabbin' scumbag spy. sure he's useful once in awhile but he's a coward and french too
(all my comments will be in the character of scout and my actual opinion will be in parantheses)

[HorrorYen]

I think this will end out great right?
?