Chapter Text
Three.
Two.
One.
Memory had always been a subject of uncertainty. The farther back it ran, the likelihood of it being distorted or lost altogether became higher. It’d been a weakness for as long as he could… well, remember.
Two days rang out with stunning clarity, however. The day he had been plucked out of some nameless little town in the middle of nowhere, nothing of value in his possession besides a lifetime’s worth of hard knocks, and the day about a month afterwards where he was ripped to shreds, and subsequently died. In his mind’s eye, he could see it, though; between all the cracks and holes, like a still puddle on an unkempt city street.
Fight.
The afternoon sun was high overhead, and the air was hot and dry. The smell of smoke and gunpowder on the desert breeze wound through 2Fort like a curling serpent. It’d become the norm, that scent of destruction, so much so that it went unnoticed. Soldier’s boots kicked up dust and sand as he stepped off the bridge separating the two bases, with his rocket launcher propped up on his shoulder, and a scowl of concentration evident in the lines around his mouth. Even with his helmet pulled low, he could see Scout’s heels just ahead of him, moving at a full sprint before they disappeared behind a blue, concrete wall and into the enemy’s base. For the past few weeks, it’d been stalemate after stalemate, and it was no wonder that everyone was on edge-- especially the kid.
He was almost surprised to see Scout just inside the door-- catching up with him rarely happened given how much slower Soldier ran with all his equipment-- but he didn’t stop jogging, even as he took in the kid’s body language. He had his scattergun clutched against his chest, and that smirk of his that was usually present was replaced with a grimace. From the corner of his eye as he passed, he saw what looked like a spot of blood against his arm, like he'd been nicked or scratched by something.
“Woah-- might wanna wait on the Doc, there’s-”
He didn’t get farther than that, because Soldier moved on without so much as a second glance in his direction. “No need, son.” He grunted, and missed the look on Scout’s face; something like a mixture between annoyance and alarm.
They needed this win, and if Soldier had to be the one to bring it home, then so be it.
The bases were mirrored, or close to it, he’d learned by then. Directly behind him should be the entrance to the sewer system, and straight ahead was a kind of open storage room, then a tiny courtyard, except-- there was something at the end of the room. The first thing he heard was that beep, a pitch higher than the machine he’d become used to hearing on his own team, but he knew exactly what it meant. He had just a second to take in the scene before him, as the twin gatling barrels jumped to attention at his presence. The enemy Engineer was just behind his sentry, goggles fixed on the corner that Soldier had just rounded, with his shotgun in his hands and an expectant smile on his face; one that stretched into a wicked grin as Soldier hesitated, like a deer struck by a pair of headlights. He didn’t get any kind of chance to duck for cover, because his second of surprise was all it took for the sentry to lock on, and unleash.
The first few bullets that tore right through him were so quick, he didn’t even feel them in the way he normally did; there was no hot slice, no burn that resembled being electrocuted. It caught him in the side first, right below his left ribs, and snapped up to center on his chest with better accuracy than any man could ever hope to achieve. It stayed there, until his legs were flung out from under him and he was propelled several feet backwards, where he hit the concrete floor with all of the grace of a sack of potatoes; weapon thrown clean from his hands, and helmet clattering against the ground nearby somewhere. He could hear Scout for just a few seconds, but couldn’t make out the words-- and someone else was laughing, deep and rich, and decidedly sinister. He was alive for just a second longer, chest heaving as his body went into shock, until his muscles went lax one by one, and his awareness faded out like the tailend of a song on the radio.
He saw his face, though, in that fuzzy in between life and death-- where respawn was actively rebuilding him from the brain down, and he isn’t technically dead, but he sure as hell isn’t alive either. Saw the hot flash of fire in the reflection of his dark goggles, in the sweat on the bridge of his nose, and the blood tracking down from his jaw to stain his shirt collar-- and that must’ve been why Spy looked so sour coming out of respawn just earlier. The white of his teeth as his lips curled into that smile, like a kid at Christmas watching their toy come to life after a few double A batteries. In the moment slowed down to an hour, where the low light of that corner of their base is amplified in the shadows on his face, he looked like a bonafide killer, like he’d been raised straight from Hell and slapped down in a warzone.
It was… something else.
He popped back into reality on his feet, a little dizzy from how sudden everything was, but otherwise… perfectly fine. His hands skimmed up the front of his red uniform, tracking the path of holes that the bullets had ripped through him. His lungs were full of air again, not blood, ribs were intact and his heart was hammering in his ears from something that at least felt like adrenaline. For just a second, all he could hear were his quick breaths, felt the tremor in his fingers, and the swell of something in his chest… just like his first trip through the system.
He took a long breath, and then another.
“He’s impressive.”
A voice brought him back, quiet but pointed, and coming from the garage door that was propped open. Spy was there, half burned cigarette in his mouth, and reloading his revolver-- apparently having back tracked in order to grab some ammunition from the cabinet.
“He got you too?” Soldier’s voice sounded distant to his own ears.
Spy confirmed his post mortem assumptions with a curt, bitter nod of his head. He holstered his revolver, and ashed his cigarette carelessly onto the well travelled wooden floor. “It will not happen again.” He murmured, a scowl on his face as he checked his watch, and promptly disappeared into thin air. A whisper floated by his head, presumably still Spy.
“Meeting in the courtyard.”
Sure enough, as he hurried from the spawn room and looked to his right, and down, some of the team were in a half hearted huddle. He could see Medic and Heavy discussing something, and Scout pacing nearby, arms crossed and a jitter in his steps. He was halfway down the stairs when Scout caught sight of him, and scoffed, one part indignance, and two parts smug. “Real nice plan Sarge! Operation swiss cheese went off without a hitch!” He crossed his arms tighter, somehow as if he was pouting despite the sneer growing on his face.
Soldier marched down the rest of the stairs without a millisecond of pause, and came to a stop not a foot away from the kid. “If you had alerted me to the sentry gun-”
“-I tried!” Scout snapped back, his finger pointing accusingly up at Soldier’s chin. “No need, son.” His voice was nowhere near deep or rough enough to make the imitation sound anything less than childish, but it didn’t stop him, even when it earned him a growl of frustration. “Don’t even know why I wear this freakin’ thing,” he turned away with a motion towards the earpiece on his head, “nobody else does.” He returned to his pacing, smirk gone, and muttered about how much easier his job would be if people either listened.
Soldier watched him for just a second longer, his thoughts supplying him with the notion that maybe some kind of walkie talkie system wouldn’t be an awful idea, until he remembered that Medic and Heavy were still standing nearby, and hadn't even spared the two of them a glance during the little spat. He turned towards them, slipping into the conversation to try and understand whatever it is they were talking about.
“It’d be dangerous mein friend-- no one else but you has the implant because it’s experimental-- but as the saying goes, I think, ‘you cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs.”
“Heavy can break eggs.”
Medic, fiddling with his medigun, spared Soldier a glance. “Would you be interested in pushing?”
Soldier did not hesitate to nod, following it up with a firm yes. The rest of the team was either busy distracting the enemy, or hunkered down to defend. The three of them-- because at some point Scout had run off again, presumably to go do his job-- should’ve been enough to break the enemy’s defenses.
His boots kicked up sand and dust again as he led the charge across the bridge, with Heavy in the middle, and Medic trailing behind to avoid any opportunistic Snipers or BLU’s looking to take pot shots. The main fight must’ve been off to the sides of the compound, as gunshots and a few explosions rang in from the left, somewhere outside of the chain link fence. Splitting apart so far wasn’t generally encouraged, it was a team effort after all, but maybe then it was what they needed. The entrance of BLU’s base wasn’t guarded by anyone, but Soldier pressed his back against the same concrete wall Scout had earlier, breath held as he concentrated his hearing. No shuffling of feet, not beeping of sentries. He risked a glance around the corner, and found the room where he had been killed earlier to be empty. There wasn’t a trace of evidence left behind, no bullet casings, scrap metal, even so much as a bolt; it was as if the Engineer were never there in the first place.
He moves quick, then.
“Nearly halfway.” He heard Medic behind him, and while he had some idea of what he’s referring to, he was still left to guess. A days old conversation rang in the very back of his mind-- invincibility, being one step closer to god-- and as they moved out in their loose little formation, Soldier hoped that whatever Medic had up his sleeve was enough to get them through a hail storm of ammunition.
He was the first to see the enemy Demoman at the bottom of the stairs, and narrowly avoided a flashing, blue pill lobbed right at his chest. It soared over his head, and exploded against the top of the doorframe, raining down spent gunpowder and shards of wood onto Heavy’s shoulders. It hardly phased the man, he was an individual of focus, and the Demo was left with just a second to formulate a backup plan. He settled for trying to leap around the corner, but couldn’t get his legs out of the way in time, and caught a few bullets for his trouble. Soldier descended the stairs two at a time, and launched a rocket when he was halfway down, rendering the enemy into telltale chunks.
It was when he led the other two into the outskirts of what can only be the intelligence room that he heard it-- that beeping. He didn’t realize that he was making to head down the nearest hallway until a massive hand on his shoulder dwarfed him, and brought him to a halt. Heavy said nothing, even when Soldier turned to growl out a warning to not grab him, and instead leveled their Medic with an expectant stare. He received a nod, and looked back down at Soldier.
“You will follow. Behind.”
That was the only explanation he got before Heavy was shouldering past him, minigun at the ready, and Medic hot on his heels. He followed, as much as he loathed it.
In a brilliant flash, there was the sound of the sentry gun spewing bullets as fast as the machine could go, and then… laughter? Heavy was laughing. Soldier’s irritation left him and he couldn’t even really remember what had him grating his teeth in the first place. Heavy and Medic were glowing red like hot embers. They lit up the entryway. A missile exploded against his broad chest, and like some unnatural, unfeeling thing, Heavy kept advancing.
All the while Engineer stubbornly fired his shotgun at Heavy’s hulking frame. The spattering of bullets bounced right off, some of them reflecting into the wall just to the left of Soldier’s head as he watched in awe. It was a massacre. Between the pieces of sentry gun littering the little room, and the Engineer slumped against the desk behind him, taking ragged, still there breaths. Medic didn't hesitate to sprint forward, and reach directly over the enemy-- who still kicked his feet despite everything-- to grab the briefcase, and shout that they needed to run. A woman’s voice echoed over the loudspeaker, and the pair bolted for the hallway.
Soldier moved to follow, but stopped at the sudden, vicious growl. He looked over his shoulder, and found the Engineer struggling to reach for his pistol, still determined to fight back even as the briefcase disappeared around the corner. Soldier didn’t let him reach it. He knelt to pick it up, their fingers brushing for just a brief, electric second. There was new blood-- not his own-- on his hand as Soldier raised the pistol, checked that the clip had ammo left, and aimed it right between the Engineer’s furious eyes.
Even in the face of death-- much like Soldier himself-- he refused to cower, or cry, or even give the enemy the satisfaction of any last words. He simply showed his teeth in a silent growl, eyes barely visible beneath the tint of his goggles, but full of unshakable rage.
What a man-- what an opponent to fight.
Soldier rarely found himself thoroughly impressed with other people, because most of them talked a big game, and then couldn't pull through when the time came; but when he finally pulled the trigger, he felt a sense of… admiration for the man.
“Soldier!” Heavy’s voice boomed down the hallway. “Is time to leave! Help protect doctor!”
Soldier dropped the pistol next to his boot, sparing the cooling body of the enemy Engineer one final glance, before he turned to catch up with his team.
They won.. It was a long time coming, and the second they had the briefcase secure they hit the road to a facility tucked away in an unnamed corner of the desert. During the hot, bumpy ride Jane spared the cloud of dust behind them several glances, his thoughts consumed.
That wicked grin. The fury in eyes he couldn’t see.
The stinging shots through his heart.
He hoped they would meet again.