I have yes to write any fiction in TF2 specifically, but I am willing to try anything here. This may or may not be chaptered depending on the feedback I receive. As the French say: jouir. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Now, as you know, I am French. A Frenchman of the highest calibre, but it would be idiotic as to type this on a computer, as I am not speaking this. Speaking would give away my position, and I cannot afford their accursed pyro discovering me. I have spent my time here, being careful, sneaky, but... what was that?? In the distance, I hear the many explosions of their "demoman" (a one-eyed atrocity, more like) and their insane pyro. Every moment I live in fear that while my abilities are top-notch, they may fail me in the event of an attack of multiple enemies. I disguise as an engineer, the very one I stabbed and sapped his... "toys", to help our team get closer to their intelligence. I was told to stay put and sabotage from the inside, but that has gone slightly awry as I have now waited nearly a day. These accursed forts provide much protection but I feel worry that they will discover me. The day before I set out here was a calme one; I was making small talk with our medic (he appears to be one of the only knowledgeable one among these imbeciles) and our pyro, well attempted to. It's hard to distinguish one sentence from another when they all come out as "MMPH, MMMM MMMMMMPH". I ask him if he can take off his mask like the demo can take off his patch, but I simply am greeted with additional grunts and sounds unlike human words. He seems oddly friendly but it is put off by his excessive love for fire. I was called to meet with the medic, engineer, and soldier (he really did nothing other than stand in the corner at attention, but he begged for hours so we let him in) about what the plan was. The mission only had a few days to go and we needed to capture their intelligence. Our annoying scout was bonked on the head and is currently in the medic's care playing with his annoying frying pan. Oh, how I want to CRUSH his frying pan. He also smells of old fish, oddly enough, but no matter, he had failed and I must take his place. I cannot take the intelligence until our idiot for a demoman arrives. By then, the defenses would be properly destroyed and I could safely break disguise, but it hasn't happened yet. He should have arrived nearly 10 hours ago, and I am beyond bored. I am also ready to get the hell out of this quiet, awful little intelligence room, but that seems impossible, for the pyro... the pyro looms over the stairs, blasting everyone with fire just to check for people like moi: the spies. If I die in the base, so do my teammates and our chance of offence. What... what was that?? It sounded like... a flamethrower! I smell smoke, I must hide! Must run, will update if possible, but I don't know...
It appears I have escaped the pyro, but only nearly, disappearing into the damp rafters of this tiny room. I feel myself becoming claustrophobic, but I must carry on. I've been up here for a few hours now, and my feet become numb from disuse. These messages I type are from the module of the sentry I sapped earlier, nearly a day ago now. I grow hungry and can now clearly see the Heavy's love of his "sandvich". I think here and evaluate my life. Becoming a master of disguise was no easy task, why, in the mid 1940's I enrolled in an academy to teach me what I know now, but I was a star pupil, and advanced beyond my imbecilic peers. However, the character I am provides me with much time to think. Perhaps I could put it to becoming a scholar, but I think about my life. Life, as it is. This BLU base is disgusting as it is, and without anything to truly do, I am left to my own amusement. Out-sniping snipers is a favorite among them, although for years I have grown accustomed to our own sniper and I dislike killing them at this point. They disgust me but never judge me for my horrendous past of murders. Only earlier did I see the damned BLU scout run in here. Tossing his ball and laughing, even taunting our scout. The anger in me pulsed. I always protected our scout, as he saved me, once. I won't go into it now, it was a long time ago but I can never repay him, even after going through with some of his more... exotic... ideas (that "Mad Milk", isn't milk at all, to say the least). I wanted to put a bullet through his skull at that moment, I even had him in my sights. What held me was the only thought of his mother. A beautiful woman, and was as nice a woman as she was great in bed. I couldn't bear the thought of the torment she might go through if I shot, so I didn't. I stayed still, silent, and watching from afar. His Boston accent is like nails on a chalkboard for me, but I put up with it. It is now hour 22, and I am hungry. I crave food, so I go after the healthpack just down the hall. Inside were meager portions but it was enough to push away the tantalizing thought of food, if only for a little while. I continue to allude their pyro, soldier, most everyone here. I see that the demoman watches from afar, laying down his cursed stickybombs, ready to blow up anything which dares come close (even himself on occasion, which is hilarious I might add). What pains me most is that I am down to only 6 ciggarettes left. I might smoke them all in an hour, so I must make it last. Hour 23 now, I begin to lose all hope of rescue and help. Perhaps I should begin to look for a way out but the pyro is just outside the walls of here. I shall begin poking around in the attic and rafters for an air vent, and perhaps I can escape. I will get out of here alive, some day, one of these days. I now know the plan has gone awry and I must escape. I cannot wake the pyro, however. Wish me luck.
Another few hours have gone by and I am left stranded in the base, inside a small room, searching and failing to find a vent, a pathway, or really anything that would allow me to pass through this seemingly insurmountable obstacle of insanity that lays right outside, not 20 feet away. A cast of nightfall has fallen on to the forts, and the lake lay silent as our sniper watches. I take out my message I received from the medic and recited by our soldier (who again, begged to do it)and I go over my mission once, twice, thrice, scanning for any sign of hope, perhaps a failsafe of some sort. "To the Spy's eyes only", it began. "The mission is simple: sabotage from the inside. You will gain entrance through the tunnel in the lake while our pyro makes a distraction. Our demoman will lob grenades at the battlements to cause further distraction. Slip into the base disguised as a soldier. We have recently killed one who entered our base but it should fool the enemy. Go down to the intelligence room. When you encounter buildings by the engineer or the engineer himself: exterminate him. Hid out inside the intelligence room and in no more than two hours should our demoman meet you inside of the intelligence room, signaling a clear path to return to our base. You will take the intelligence back to our base and it will be delivered to our engineer who will carefully bring it to The Announcer. Be careful, you are our last hope. Please eat this message once read." Except I didn't consume the message. I kept it with me, reading it for hours, until I felt I must type up another part of my ongoing effort to escape without being caught. Everyone has since respawned but have not left the base, so it is near impossible. Our Respawn System has not been working correctly (ex. it spawned our scout naked) and needless to say we have temporarily shut it down. I do not know if it is online so I am not taking the risk of being dead for more than 4 hours. I have been able to slide my way up the hallway silently, but avoiding one of the main exits as their engineer has built his buildings back there. I have heard it. The next exit is a long, climbing hallway which I am worried about traversing. Oh non! non non non! NON! The napping pyro has woken up! Must run, must hide, must stay silent...