Based on a soul-crushing headcanon that came up on Tumblr regarding the lack of BLUs in MvM mode, as well as the existence of the unreleast WAR domination lines. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He didn’t know he was the last. The battle was too heavy, too thick, too spread out. The RED Soldier’s decoy had worked like a charm- the Grey Horde had swarmed to the false MannCo facility and right into RED/BLU’s ambush, but while the element of surprise had done them well to start with, the sheer power and numbers of the mechanical legion was beginning to take its toll. There had been a big explosion not long in, and slowly it became evident that the explosion had been the BLU Respawn. The Medic was first. The Scout came after. And after that, the casualties came one every few hours. Jane knew about the first two, but as the fighting grew heavier and heavier, it became difficult to focus on what was happening to who. The only thing to do was to scrap as many robots as possible. Yet, there was one other goal in the BLU Soldier’s head, a goal that persisted even as, unbeknownst to him, the BLU Engineer gasped his last on the other side of the battlefield, marking him the last of the BLUs. Every nest of stickies that Tavish DeGroot set, every hail of pipe bombs, his back was watched by his loyal friend. When the rockets ran out, he pumped away on his shotgun, blasting robots in the face. When the shells ran out, he launched himself on the blast of a sticky and buried his Shovel in a giant Heavybot’s neck. Bullets flew, his blue jacket gaining wet blossoms of red. He kept rising to his feet to fight again, determined to protect the Demoman. “JANE! Jane, stay down, lad! Stay out of thae line of fire! We’ll get ye a Medic soon, just hang in there, laddie!†“NEGATORY! I WILL NOT… WILL NOT BACK DOWN NOW! NEVER! NOT TILL THE END!†Struggling to his feet once more, he coughed, blood dribbling from his mouth. Brow furrowing, Tavish placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder (using his other hand to detonate a thick sticky trap, sending about ten robots into pieces.) “You don’t need tae do this.†“Yes. I do. I’m not… ugh… going to let those hunks of junk win… not going to let them… need to protect you, pal… to… what I did, I need to…†“Jane. Jane, ye didn’ae mean it. I know ye didn’ae mean it. Please, ye’re hurt bad, m’lad…†But before the demolitionist could say another word, there was a whistling in the sky, and the Soldier threw him to the ground, laying on top of him, and then there was a huge booming sound, a rush of heat. He could feel shrapnel cutting his arms, the weight of the American shielding him with his body. A moment later, all was quiet. “…huh. I think one of thae bloody machine’s projectiles hit me big trap… phew, thae’ was a bleedin’ huge kablooey, wasn’ae? Heheheh… wasn’ae? … Jane?†There was torn up machines all around, sparking and creaking. But Jane didn’t stir either. He was a bloody mess, having taken the brunt of the damage. Eye widening, Tavish shakes him gently. “Jane? JANE! WAKE UP! LADDIE, WAKE UP, NOW… COME ON… come on… please, m’lad, wake up… ach… god… ye stupid bloody yank, why did ye… ye didn’t need tae do thae. Why did ye do thae?†Tears pouring from his eye, he scooped his lifeless friend up and held him to his chest. All was quiet. The growing hysteria of Tavish’s sobs echoed horribly off the metal carcasses of the felled robots. “…oh, Jane… oh, m’laddie… m’poor, brave laddie… why’d ye do thae… I loved ye, did ye know? Like a brother, I loved ye…†————— The day had been won, but it didn’t feel like it. Nine bodies were gently laid in nine graves, nine rivals, nine friends, that would never rise up again. Never fight again, never laugh, or joke, or argue… never live again. The REDs all huddled together, a feeling of sorrow souring their feeling of victory. It was different before. They’d always come back before. How sad it was. It was reality. This is how war really was. But there couldn’t be surrender now. The sacrifice of Jane and the other eight brave men who fought under the banner of Builder’s League United would be honored. The Grey Horde would be crushed to the last infernal machine. But tonight, the mercenaries of RED would drink, and mourn, and remember who they had lost.
I... I cried. This was, this was very well done, wonderfully and tragically written. Soul-crushing headcanon indeed. (Thinking about it now, I think I prefer the headcanon of 'the mercs kept getting color-confused and shooting each other by instinct'.)