>>173 All will be revealed in time... for now, an update for Demoman and Soldier, and also Engineer. ___________________________________ Demoman's flashlight revealed the body of the renegade, lying flat on his back amidst the debris. The explosion had torn the clothes from the left half of his body, as well an arm and a good deal of flesh to boot. If he was still alive, he wouldn't be for very long. A growl of contempt rose from the RED Soldier, who was nursing his own injuries. Demoman studied the scene with more weariness than vengeful delight. The day had been terribly long, and he had spent far too much of it sober. A gulp of volatile rum took the edge off of his mood. As he stepped towards the Colonel, Demoman began feeling more satisfaction with his work. "You're no' gettin' up after that, ye bastard." Against all odds, the rogue mercenary gave a bubbly groan. Demoman tensed, watching the Colonel's remaining hand like a hawk. He scrabbled at the floor, then rose up and weakly searched for something at his left hip. As if echoing Tavish's own thoughts, Soldier hissed, "Has he got a sidearm?! A grenade?" "...dammit," came a choked whisper from the floor. Whatever he hoped to find, it was no longer there. Summoning his nerve, Demoman stalked over and kicked the Colonel's hand off to one side, then pinned it to the floor with a boot-toe. He shined his light on the man's head, and snarled, "If there's any life left in ye, mate, you'd best be usin' it tae say your last words. It's over." The Colonel's helmet had come off in the blast, and his face was torn and bleeding, embedded with shrapnel. He squinted against the flashlight's beam, and even with his life draining out onto the floor, there was a wild gleam in his eyes. It was an awareness that most men lost when they were this far gone. "So, you caught up with me. I knew you were... nggh... stubborn enough for the job. I can see that look on your face. This is personal, isn't it?" A jolt of alarm struck Demoman. The last thing he wanted right now was for the dying man to start talking about Jane. He swallowed the knot in his throat, then said, "Ah found your team's Demoman. What happened on this island? Why was he killed?" "The Scot... So that's what this is all about? Not that guy who... saved your sorry carcass, back in the jungle?" The Colonel was struggling to breathe, let alone speak, but his tone was remarkably casual. Their conversation could have been completely normal, if it wasn't for the fact that one participant was on the verge of death. He gave a weak, embittered growl. "I'm the one who killed him. He sold us out... Tex caught him radioing someone at TF Industries, and... came to me about it. I didn't want to terminate one of my own men, but-" He suddenly balked and turned his head to one side, then coughed up a frothy mess of blood. Demoman grimaced, feeling a dull sort of horror at the Colonel's story. Betraying an employer was bad enough, but selling your teammates out? It was hard for him to imagine a clansman doing that. True, he didn't personally know every other Demoman in the world, but turning traitor went against the code of ethics that HE was raised with. Slowly shaking his head, he spoke to the man on the floor. "All of your people had t'know you'd be hunted down by the company for goin' rogue. Why'd ye do it?" "...everyone had their own reasons. Greed, mostly. We were all sick of the bullshit... and Tex promised the boys that whatever was sealed away behind that door, it'd make them... so rich and powerful, they'd be set for life." A rueful smile tugged at the Colonel's face, despite the pain he was doubtlessly feeling. "I don't know if there's riches in there, or bombs, or... just a whole bunch of old garbage, but even when we split from RED... I knew it wouldn't pay off. Not soon enough to save us. I just wanted to die like a real man... not running from company assassins, or the CIA, or everyone else who wants me dead. Like a man... with my boots on." As the Colonel started talking about greed and sealed riches, the two REDs stopped making sense of his story. In the choking heat of that ruined library, they stared at the dying man and listened with mounting confusion. Soldier blurted, "What in God's name do you mean by that? Explain yourself, you dirty bastard traitor!" "You'll know soon enough," the older man rasped, struggling not to choke on his own gore. He was grimacing now, in pain rather than anger, too weak to display more than momentary spasms of emotion. Still pinned under Demoman's boot, his hand was like a latex glove, waxen and motionless. After clearing more blood from his trachea, he added, "There's no way in hell that... Tex is going to give this place's secrets up to anybody. Not without... a fight. When he wants something, he's unstoppable." Overcome by a fresh wave of burning curiosity, Demoman crouched down and grabbed the Colonel's shoulder, giving him a shake. "What bloody secrets? What's worth dyin' for on this Godforsaken weed-patch?!" The Colonel made a faint sound, but a change had overtaken his prone form. He fell back limply as Demoman released him, and made no further movements. Demoman growled in frustration and rose to his feet, then backed towards his teammate. Through the darkness came Soldier's voice, hoarse with pain and suspicion. "He's dead, isn't he? Crazy son of a bitch..." Demoman's frustration was urging at him to assault the Colonel further, as if desecrating a corpse might bring forth some answers, but he wasn’t the Witch of Endor. The man who had killed so many mercenaries with such ease, and cheated death at the cost of Jane's life, was no longer a threat to the mission- or a source of knowledge about its true nature. After staring at the body for a long moment, Demoman glanced back at Soldier and asked, "Can ye hang in there a moment? Ah'm goin' tae check his pockets." There was no sudden movement from the corpse as Tavish kneeled, then began searching the dead man's clothes. The uncanny sense of foreboding had lifted from his psyche. Now he felt the natural unease of someone who has killed a dangerous animal, and is worried it might have one bite left for him. He found bottles of uppers and downers in the Colonel's pockets, along with an assortment of survival tools. No special key to his madness was there, no pocket diary filled with ravings nor a dog-eared copy of the Communist manifesto. Only one object among them seemed incongruous. In the man's breast pocket was a rolled-up belt of beaded fabric. A souvenir perhaps, now dull and tattered from its time spent in the filthy jungle. (Bah, none of this tells me anything useful.) With no particular idea why, he stuffed the belt in his pocket next to the slain Demoman's insignia and rose to his feet. Although he was still angry at having another mystery dropped in his lap, he was also coming to terms with the Colonel's defeat... and more importantly, his own victory. (I played that one brilliantly! He might have got the drop on me before, but I showed him how a highlander does it. It was the least I could do for the clansman he killed. You can rest now, lad, whoever you were...) The slain Demoman's memory troubled him, as well as Jane's sacrifice. Thoughts of the BLU Soldier roused a little optimism in his chest, though. All of the RED and BLU mercenaries the Colonel had killed were restored now, no doubt scrambling to secure transport back to the Caribbean. (The show must go on...) Turning to face Soldier, Demoman shone some light on the wounded American. "Think ye can walk, mate?" Soldier glared indignantly at his teammate. "Of course I can walk, Cyclops! Why wouldn't I be able to?! I'm in perfect shape!" He rose up defiantly, then wavered and clutched the wall for support, gritting his teeth. Fishing his dwindling supply of liquor out, Demoman took another slug of rum, and gave a satisfied sigh as heat ran through his weary limbs. "Well, we've still got tae find the others, and neither of us are gettin' any younger. Are ye certain you'll keep up with me on yer own, or will y'get down off your bloody high horse and let me give ye a hand?" "Shit," Soldier groaned, and allowed Demoman to move into a supportive position. He was never eager to admit he was injured, let alone accept someone's help. Once the Scotsman had an arm across Soldier's back, they considered their next goal. "Alright, we're in a bit of a bind. Ah dinnae know if that daft bugger was just babbling, but those gunshots we heard earlier were real as rain. Do ye reckon you'll be any good in a fight?" Demoman didn't want to abandon his teammate, even if their progress would be slower as a result. The situation elsewhere on the plantation was anyone's guess, but all was quiet, so he knew that they weren't missing out on a firefight. Soldier seemed to feel the same. "We're closer to the heat than we are to Engie's gear. I say we continue the charge where we left off. There's more of these bastards around here, and someone's got to kill them! What's the best route out of here?" "How in the blazes am Ah supposed tae know? This place is a bloody wreck, and—" For some inexplicable reason, Soldier seemed adamant that Demoman possessed an instinctive understanding of spooky mansions and castles. He didn't mull on it for more than a second, though. Gut instinct would just have to suffice in guiding them from the premises. "Bah, let's just go this way." With one hand around a flashlight and the other on his teammate, Demoman led the two REDs down the staircase. The floodlight revealed an exit on the far side of the toppled bookshelves, so they moved around the edge of the destruction and left the great library to its single patron. The Colonel's life was a mystery that would probably never be uncovered, but his end brought peace to everyone he had attacked and killed. Death was what he wanted the most, and by crossing Tavish DeGroot, he had finally received his heart's desire. ______________________ For those mercenaries on the island who weren't in immediate danger, it seemed that having a moment's peace could be troublesome in other ways. Engineer's hike from the manor to the mess-hall had been sheer agony, draining every ounce of stamina he had left. Now that he was seated beside his ramshackle dispenser, with the soothing red plume to ease his physical pain, he found himself suffering another sort of discomfort. "I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do," he muttered, setting down his shotgun and slouching back against a rickety folding chair. If Engineer had been certain of everything he was feeling, he wouldn't have any better a plan for the future than he did now. His mind was awash with confusion over what had happened, and what he had done. He and Sniper were something closer than friends, something more like lovers. That was undeniable. And Soldier... his feelings for Soldier were a little stronger than platonic. But could he fool around with two people, let alone two men? Should he? Would this break Sniper's heart if it was revealed, or ruin what he had with Soldier? Engineer's efforts to explain the day's events—and rationalize his actions—dissolved into a whirling mess of emotional uncertainty. Engineer rubbed his eyelids for a moment and sighed. He realized that if anything was going to come of the incident, it wouldn't be in the next five minutes. Moping wouldn't change anything. He groaned and sagged his shoulders, listlessly peeling the gauze from his mended leg. A crash came from the direction of the bombed-out wall, loud enough to be heard over the healing machine. Engineer promptly put aside his guilt for later. Lifting the shotgun, he wobbled to his feet and aimed his electric torch towards the debris, where the intruder had fallen. "Who's there?! Put yer hands up right now, God-dammit, or I'll blow yer brains out the back side 'a yer head!" Before he could totally understand what was there, Engineer heard a weird sound from the shape on the ground. It was sort of a desperate, muffled scream. A moment later the shadow wriggled to an upright position, and he realized he was seeing a young man, kneeling and bound with duct tape. The youth stared at him with wide-eyed horror and vigorously shook his head of dark, greasy hair. For a split second, Engineer felt a mix of amazement and heart wrenching pity for this hapless person. Then he remembered what his team was dealing with. There were no innocent bystanders stumbling through this warzone, and this boy could only be a Scout belonging to this renegade group. Shotgun in hand, Engineer left his light pointing on the scene and approached the newcomer. He loomed over his prisoner, smiling faintly, feeling more than a little gratified by the terror he was inspiring. "Well now, what brings you here, boy? Ya lookin' for someone else? ...you can nod, y'know. I ain't takin' that tape off yer mouth until I've got a reason." The kid looked at Engineer, then at the shotgun and the prosthesis that held it. He swallowed audibly, and bobbed his head nervously. The Texan chuckled. "I reckon you weren't expectin' to run into me, were ya?" More head-bobbing. His eyes screwed up as he nodded, and fresh tears cleaned some of the dirt from his face. Engineer had no immediate plan to kill the young man, but he decided to leave that information up in the air. He jiggled his shotgun a little, then grasped it comfortably. "Were you on the run from anyone, boy? Maybe some RED fellas?" That was a "no". The kid's face twitched at mention of RED mercenaries, though. Engineer frowned, scratching his chin with his free hand and studying the youth more closely. He wore plain shorts and a t-shirt that were stained with blood, mud and cobwebs. His tennis shoes were standard issue for a RED scout. The only wounds on him were fresh, probably incurred from traversing the grounds with duct tape around his knees. Higher up, his arms were affixed to his body, and more tape was balled over his right hand. The left one was gone, though- all that remained was a stump below the elbow. Engineer snatched up his dog-tags on a whim, and grinned. The word "Scout" had been scraped off, and on the reverse, someone had clumsily engraved the name "ANDY". "So you're Andy, huh? Well, Andy, I'm sure you know a lot more about what's goin' on here than I do. I'm also sure that the moment I take that tape off yer mouth, you're gonna start cussin' up a blue streak and generally not sayin' anything useful ta me. So I think I'm gonna keep you nice and quiet fer now." The boy only glared as his name was discovered, but he began shaking his head and bleating desperately when Engineer threatened to leave the tape on. Regretting that it was too dark to keep his eyes concealed behind goggles, Engineer arched an eyebrow dramatically. "What was that, boy? Are you sayin' you'll answer my questions and mind yer language if I let ya talk? It'd be a shame if you said somethin' I'd hafta kill you for, but if you're on yer best behaviour..." Andy nodded eagerly, giving Engineer what was probably the most appealing look he was capable of. Somewhere deep down, the Texan was prepared to regret this decision. There was more duct tape in his toolbox to correct things, if it came to that. He hauled Andy up to a standing position, then tore the lid off the boy's mouth. "Ow, fuck!" Andy yelped, then gave a louder cry of pain as Engineer cuffed him upside the head. He staggered back, spitting obscenities and nearly tripping over some debris. The older man caught him and gave his shoulder an uncomfortable squeeze. "Were you listening to me? I said it'll be a shame if I hafta kill ya, but it's somethin' I could manage." Engineer wasn't particularly surprised by the turn this was taking. With his shotgun propped against his hip, he gave Andy a look of deadly calm. "Now, are you gonna mind yer Ps and Qs, or will I be sendin' you home to yer momma in a pine box?" Andy's face went pale, and he suddenly sagged in Engineer's grasp, groaning quietly as he was lowered to his knees. When he found his voice again, he mumbled, "Sorry... sorry, sorry." "You just get yer act together, and get ready for some walkin'. My teammates are somewhere in that death-trap you fellas call a base, and we're gonna go find them." His time under the healing ray had restored a little of Engineer's patience along with his health, but he wasn't prepared to go easy on the kid. Considering the circumstances, his shotgun would be a better negotiating tool than kind words. Those could wait until the fighting was over. Out of the blue, Andy spoke. "They're in the greenhouse." "What?" Engineer was caught off-guard. He tried to make sense of these words, to figure out if it was a lie. Andy looked sullenly at the floor, and elaborated on his story. "The greenhouse at the back of the mansion? That's where they were gonna go. They probably wanna kill Tex. The Australian guy told me to split. He said the rest of his team would kill me if they found me." (Sniper's survived this long? He's still here?!) Engineer's heart seemed to skip a beat. He thanked the powers that be for the darkness; his face was undoubtedly turning a little red at this news. After a few stuttering false starts, he realized it would be best to share as little as possible with the renegade. "Well then, it looks like we're goin' there first. ...on yer feet, boy." As Andy struggled to rise, Engineer dashed back to his toolbox and retrieved the duct tape. After stuffing that in a pack, he took his flashlight as well and returned to the prisoner. "We ain't in no hurry here, so you're gonna lead the way for me. As long as you mind yer manners and remember who's in charge, I won't have any reason to play rough." "Don't kill me," Andy mumbled, cringing as Engineer's shotgun jabbed the small of his back. They started from the mess hall, moving at the bound scout's pace. "I'll sing for you, j-just don't kill me..." Although he was desperate to know about Sniper's condition—not to mention, the condition of everyone else who was with the sharpshooter—Engineer decided to pry for some strategic information first. "Alright, how's about ya explain what's going on here? You can start by tellin' me how many of you folks are left." As the two mercenaries travelled once more along that darkened road, the jungle night deepened all around them. For all Engineer knew, his captive bird was spinning a long string lies, but Andy's unfolding story corroborated with everything he knew. By the time they reached the massive building his mind was abuzz with questions, and more than a little pique for the people who dropped him and his teammates in the middle of all this. Overpowering that, however, was Engineer's curiosity. After very carefully making his way in through the broken window, he dragged Andy in after him, then set the boy on his feet and asked, "Why don't y'tell me everything you know about that door you mentioned?" Something caused the Scout to cringe. His expression, maybe? He knew he could get carried away sometimes. But Andy clearly didn't understand the meaning of the graven letters he had described- "R.C." Engineer did. He was consumed with desire again, and this time, it was the kind that had never left him hurt and confused.