BEST THREAD EVER.

The positions for the defense of the capture points were set. Sniper had an ideal set-up, perching by a window where he had a clear view of any intruders that would stupidly wander into the way of his sights. All he had to do was be patient, and wait.

He took a sip of coffee from his favorite mug, the one that read "#1 Sniper" on the side. It had been a gag gift from Scout, who probably didn't even think that the Sniper would actually use it. Scout, God bless him, had been an unlikely source of support for Sniper, who, despite loving his job, never seemed to get over the fact that his parents disapproved so much of it. Not many of the others could really relate; they never really seemed to even mention their families, except Demoman, who would often bemoan the fact that he had accidentally killed his parents when he was trying to blow up the Loch Ness in an attempt to kill its legendary monster. Trying to explain to Demoman that the Loch Ness monster probably didn't even exist in the first place was a surefire way to get a glass bottle upside the head. Best not to dwell on such things.

TOO BAD, WE'RE DELAYING THIS THREAD

No sign of any intruders, save for the Engineer dashing through the entrance near the capture point. He looked up towards Sniper and waved. Sniper waved back, a little confused. Wasn't Engineer setting up sentry guns closer towards Blue Team's base? Well, having sentry guns set up by the capture point certainly made enough sense. Sniper decided to pay no more mind and focused back on the entrance way.

A few minutes passed, and things seemed to be unusually quiet. All the action was probably up closer to Blue Team's base, meaning that Red Team was doing pretty good. Might not be a bad idea to move closer in, Sniper thought. He lowered his rifle, picked up his mug and turned to leave when he found himself face to face with the Scout. Sniper staggered back a bit in surprise. "Scout," he said, laughing a bit, "didn't see you come through, mate. Wot're you doin' all the way back here?"

IS THIS A NEW GAME?

>>51632460
Nice copy pasta bro.

>implying the shitty Sniper pasta is worth telling compared to the pyro tale

Scout fidgeted a bit, tapping his bat against his calf. "Yeah, well... just followin' orders. You know."

Sniper looked at Scout suspiciously. He was lying. That was obvious enough. But why? He set his hands on the shoulders of the Scout, and looked him in the eye. "Is something wrong, mate?"

>>51632647
i was the first one to paste that

Scout looked dumbfounded, shaking his head nervously. "Wrong? Nothing's... nothing's wrong, man. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because you picked a really shitty time to come to me with your personal problems. I mean, for fuck's sake, we're in the middle of a mission-"

The Scout bit his lip, and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I-I'm sorry man, I just... got something on my chest, I can't take it any more..."

Sniper sighed, and hung his head. This was eating up precious time, but he hated to leave a friend of his hanging. "Fine. Look, just say it quick, 'cause I need to get out there in the fray."

"I love you, man."

Snipers half-lidded eyes suddenly popped open and he slowly looked up, his brow knitted in confusion. "Eh... wot?"

"Like I... y'know, love you." Scout admitted bashfully.

"Uh... okay?" Sniper was not quite sure how to react to this. The whole situation was just awkward. He wanted to leave. Now. "I'm, uh, flattered and all, mate, but I'm no poofta..."

Quite suddenly, Sniper found himself shoved roughly against the wall, the Scout pinning him in place, looking deep into his eyes. Sniper tried to squirm out from under his grip, but Scout proved to be surprisingly strong. "Look, mate," he said, trying to hold onto what was left of his composure, "this isn't very funny. Gitoff."

"I'm not joking man." Scout breathed, his voice sounding husky with lust.

Sniper's mind raced while he tried to assess the situation. Scout, a man he considered his friend, had just confessed his love to him, and had him pinned. He briefly considered whipping out he Kukri, but dismissed it. There had to be some way to reason his way out of this, surely. He slid his hands up to Scouts chest and tried to push him away. "This is neither the time or the place. I mean, we-"

He was cut short by a sudden kiss on the mouth. Before his brain had time to catch up with what was happening to his body, he found the Scouts tongue had snaked its way into his mouth, and a taped hand was holding the back of his head, keeping it in place. Sniper squirmed and jerked around more, trying to break free, making muffled little groans of protest. Scouts other hand was now finding its way to the Sniper's buttocks, grabbing hold and squeezing, eliciting a yelp from the older man. The Scout started to grind his hips against Snipers, as if to highlight the steadily growing erection in the Scout's pants. After much writhing, Sniper managed to break away from the sloppy, wet kiss and shove his overly eager assailant away from him.

"Have you gone completely looney?" Sniper shouted at him. "Seriously. Piss off."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Scout just stood there, looking wounded. Sniper cleared his throat, and started to walk away. Turning his head away for a second, though, proved to be counter-productive, as soon Scout was on him again, this time from behind. "Dammit, mate, can't you just bugger off for one NNNNNGGHH..."

>>51633224
>>NNNNNGGHH...

The Sniper could even finish his sentence due to the Scout's hand groping his crotch, rubbing and massaging it firmly, while at the same time breathing and kissing the back of the Sniper's neck and taking off his hat. Sniper found himself getting hard despite his own best efforts, and he could hear Scout let out a pleased little hum.

"No poofta, huh?" Scout asked mockingly. "I think this says otherwise..."

"Stop it," Sniper said, his heart starting to pound blood into his face and ears from embarrassment and shame, "please. Scout. For Christ's sake..."

"Mmmm, no." Scout said, licking the back of Sniper's neck alone the line of his spine. "I think you want this as much as I do."

Well, yes and no, Sniper thought. Living at the fortress didn't do much for one's sex life, really. Place was a total sausage fest, that is, assuming that Pyro was male. Nobody really seemed to be sure about that one, and even if he, she, it, was female, Sniper always assumed that Pyro would be as attractive as a water buffalo. On the off-times when they were not being busy being blown up, shot at, or set on fire, Sniper was sure that at least some of the other members of the team got desperate and, well, experimented. He was almost positive that there was something going on between Medic and Heavy, and he always suspected that the Spy might be a bit of a fruit. He was, after all, French. But Sniper preferred to keep to himself, preferring to relieve any tensions in the privacy of his own room with a skin mag and a box of tissues. Yes, he had wished that he could have sex with some other living, breathing human being, but he would have definitely preferred to be a woman. Scout would have never crossed his mind.

And yet, here he was, being molested by the Scout, while on a mission, no less. Scout's hand was already slipping down the front of his pants, still working over Sniper's quickly hardening cock. Scout playfully nipped Sniper on the side of his neck, delighting in the discomfort he was causing Sniper. Scout started to undo the button fly and zipper on Sniper's pants, humming all the while and bucking his hips into Sniper's ass. Sniper found himself overwhelmed and almost wanting it, despite himself. In the back of his mind, he found himself wondering if this was rape, even though he usually imagined rape to be far more painful and humiliating than this.

Fuck it, Sniper thought. Nobody has to know, and it seemed best to get this over with quickly. His penis was now, by this point, completely hard, and trying to snipe anything when sporting a flag at full mast was probably not going to work out very well. "Just... just get it over with..." he breathed.

The Scout turned Sniper around, letting him see the almost catlike satisfaction on his face. "Knew you'd things my way, Snipes." Scout purred, his hand wrapped around Sniper's now-exposed penis and jerking it steadily. "You won't regret this."

"Oh, shut it, you wanker." Sniper growled. "You fucking won already. Just do it."

"As you wish." Scout replied, tugging down Sniper's pants as he stooped down to a crouch, teasing Sniper's cock with a few licks right under the head and on the tip. Sniper groaned, leaning back against the wall as Scout started to take the length of Sniper's shaft into his mouth. It felt good to have something warm and wet wrapped around his cock, and Sniper started to thrust his hips into Scouts mouth to match the rhythm of the younger man's bobbing head. Sniper couldn't help but note that Scout was much better a this than even some of the women he had slept with, using his tongue to stroke the underside of the shaft, drawing out little shudders and gasps of pleasure. As the Scout started to pick up the pace, Sniper found himself holding the back of Scout's head, wishing he had longer hair to pull as he forced his penis further down the Scout's throat. Surprisingly, the Scout didn't gag at this, and simply sucked harder on Sniper's penis, his lips just centimeter's away from the root. The groans rumbling from the Sniper's throat were becoming louder and harsher, his eyelids fluttering as he leaned his head back, quickening the pace even more. Scout picked up on this, moving his head back a bit more in order to keep himself from retching on the payload.

Sniper then let out a loud, guttural cry as he came, almost violently, into the Scout's mouth, his body shaking and his cock twitching and pulsating and his brow breaking out in a cold sweat. Scout swallowed the load of it, and suckled on Sniper's cock as if to draw out as much of his semen as possible. The Sniper's breathing slowed down and became heavier, his body still quaking a bit, but quickly starting to settle down, while the Scout still suckled on his cock, which was quickly becoming flaccid. Still soaking in the afterglow, Sniper piped up again, breaking the silence.

"'The hell you pick that up, mate?" He asked breathlessly.

Scout took Sniper's cock out of his mouth for a second to answer, "I get around," and then went back, easing the Sniper back down from his climax and getting a few more satisfied sighs from the older man. "You pick up some stuff here and there, you know?"

"Yes..." Sniper hissed, eyes closed, turning his head so that the side of his face rested against the cold wall. "Yes, you certainly have..."

The younger man stood up, slowly, and started to kiss the side of Sniper's mouth, purring and nuzzling his rough, stubbly face. Sniper tried to jerk his head away from this, but he did so slowly, and grumbled. "None of that mate, no." Scout didn't really listen to this, however, and started to lick and tease the Sniper's ear with his hot breath, getting another shudder from his teammate.

"Don't think that I'm done with you yet." Scout whispered, nibbling the rim of Sniper's ear. "You need to return the favor."

"Wasted enough time as is." Sniper replied, starting to come back down to earth. "Mission's not over. We gotta split."

sage goes in all fields

"We still have time." Scout insisted. "Not letting you leave until I have a turn."

Sniper's mood turned grim, and he glowered at his younger teammate. "No way. I am not slobbering all over your knob. It's bad enough that I even let you do that to me."

An impish grin spread across Scout's face, and he shrugged. "Fine. Have it your way, buddy." Scout then tightened his grip on the Sniper's shoulders, causing his teammate to tense up.

"Wot're you-"

"Just using the only other option you gave me, Snipes." Scout replied, licking his lips like a hungry cartoon wolf and harshly turning Sniper around so that he was facing the wall.

"You're not going to-"

SAGE IN ALL FIELDS

"Comin' in through the back door."

"Oh, fuck no!" Sniper started to thrash about far more desperately than before, but Scout harshly shoved the Sniper's head against the wall, putting enough pressure on the Sniper to make sure he couldn't get away. Scout let out a uncharacteristic and sadistic snicker as he rubbed his throbbing erection, which almost seemed to be threatening to burst out of his pants, against the cleavage of Sniper's ass. Sniper tried to move his head from under the pressure of Scout's palm, but to no avail. His sunglasses were askew on his face, the rims digging into his skin painfully against the wall. "Jesus, mate, don't do this to me, for the love of Christ-"

Scout unzipped his pants and grabbed his throbbing cock, navigating it between Sniper's cheeks and simply rubbing it back and forth between them, not unlike a saw blade cutting through a log. He leaned in close to the Sniper and whispered in his ear. "Oh, don't worry, Sniper. I promise I won't make this too painful for you, mon cherie."

Sniper's eyes widened in horror as realization struck him like a gunshot to the chest. Suddenly he could smell cigarette smoke wafted into his nostrils, and Scout's voice was changing into a deeper, sultrier voice that filled him with absolute terror and dread. "No..." he gaped, his stomach plummeting and his knees starting to knock furiously. "Spuh-spuh..."

"What was that, Monsieur Sniper?" The voice asked teasingly, his grinding against Sniper's ass becoming rougher. "Say it. Say it for me, you filthy kangaroo-humping son of a bitch!"

"SPY!" Sniper screamed. "BLOODY SPY! FUCK!"

SAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE

"Very good, Monsieur Sniper!" Spy chuckled, now out of his disguise and starting to push the tip of his penis against the Sniper's puckering hole. "I think that I am going to enjoy this quite a bit, my camping little friend." He flicked his knife open and held it against Sniper's jugular, taking a deep whiff of his captured prey. "I think I should, perhaps, do this sort of thing more often. An unorthodox strategy, yes, but effective, wouldn't you agree?"

"You fucking wanker." Sniper snarled. "You fucking tricked me, you bloody bastard."

Spy laughed again, putting more pressure against Sniper's anus, his hips still rocking back and forth steadily. "But of course, my good gentleman," he said, his voice dripping with venom, "that is my job. Why, I am in such a good mood, I might not kill you, if you behave for me. No doubt there will be plenty of humiliation from the other members of your team, anyway. Besides," he pushed the tip of his penis into Sniper's entrance, starting to finally penetrate and causing the Sniper to let out a girlish shriek, "this is going to be very, very painful." And he shoved himself in.

Sniper let out a agonized scream, the pain being incredible, as if his ass were being ripped apart by thousands of angry bees. The Spy let out an audible moan, and started swearing in French as he relentlessly pounded himself into his enemy, still holding the knife to his victim's throat. Hot, angry tears started to stream down the Sniper's face, and his knees were now feeling like the were made of Jell-O. But he couldn't collapse, as much as he wanted to. He bit his lip until it was streaming blood, trying desperately not to scream out in pain and give the Spy any more satisfaction. He felt something hot and wet starting to run down the back of his leg; at first, he thought he had pissed himself somehow, but when he finally realized what it actually was, he nearly vomited. It was blood. God help him, his anus was bleeding.

sage

his hardly seemed to deter the Spy; quite the opposite. He leaned in close to the Sniper's ear and chuckled. "How much does this hurt, camper? A lot, yes? Do you wish you were dead yet?"

"Fuck you." Sniper wailed weakly, try to sniff back the burning tears from his eyes and the running snot from his nose. "Fuck you, you bastard."

Spy shook his head and tsked. "That is not what I wanted to hear, Monsieur Sniper." He said, sounding like a disappointed teacher scolding a naughty student. "No, I want to hear you scream. I want to hear you scream for your mother."

"Never." Sniper said, trying to sound resolute. But his voice wavered and faltered as he tried to choke back his cries of anguish.

THE. FUCKING. INTERNET.

Spy pulled back and slammed deeper into Sniper's ass, evoking a pained screech. "CRY FOR YOUR MOTHER, YOU DOG." Spy shouted. "CRY FOR HER LIKE YOU WERE ABOUT TO BE EATEN BY DINGOES, LIKE YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN!"

The pain was becoming too much for Sniper, who, at this point, felt as if he was going to pass out, throw up, and piss himself at the same time. Without even thinking, he did the only thing that he thought, in a almost animal desperation, would lessen the pain even a little bit. "MUMMY!" He screamed. "OH GOD, MUM, HELP! AAAUUUGGGHHH!"

"YES!" Screamed the Spy, pounding faster and even more relentlessly. "YES! AGAIN!"

"MUM! MUM, HELP! OH GOD, JUST STOP IT, PLEASE!"

The Spy threw back his head and moaned, going at a furious pace until he finally came, hard. Hot, sticky semen filled Sniper's colon, mixing with the blood that was already dribbling out. The pain became too much for Sniper as his vision became blotted with large yellow and blue spots, and he slowly starting to sink to the ground, sweating and shaking. The Spy removed himself reluctantly to watch the Sniper fall onto his hands and knees, his anus raw, red and bloody, his face pale and colorless. Sniper finally vomited between his wobbling hands, retching and wheezing and forcing out the soupy, milky white liquid from the pit of his stomach. He attempted to crawl away from the mess, pants pooled almost comically around his ankles, his elbows knocking and snapping from rigid to limp until he finally fell face first onto the floor. As his vision started to get fuzzy and darken, Sniper could make out the Spy pulling up his pants and then taking out a long drag on his cigarette, and finally turning to him with a smirk. And then, darkness.

This is hot

When he came to again, the first thing Sniper was was a bright, white light. Oh, well that's fucking great, he thought. I'm dead. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that it was not a divine light but a bright florescent light from the ceiling of the sick bay. A blurred, human-shaped blob came into his sight, and sounds that vaguely resembled human speech. A few seconds later the blob became Medic, and the sounds started to take the form of words.

"-wake, Herr Sniper. Good, good. I vas vorried you might have died and ve'd have to get a new Sniper. Such a hassle."

"Doc?" Sniper said, his head still reeling. "I'm alive?"

"Vell, of course you are, dummkopf. Did I not just say zat, mein Vegemite-eating friend? I found you after ve had captured all of Blue team's control points. Apparently zeir Spy had managed to get to you and... vell..." The Medic let out a sadistic chuckle. "vell, he certainly left quite ze impression on you, Herr Sniper."

"it's not bloody funny, Kraut." Sniper snarled. "You get a hold of that wanker, or what?"

"Nein." Medic answered with a shake of his head. "He vas gone before I got to you. But I'm sure zat vill motivate you sufficiently to riddle him vith all sorts of lovely new orifices, jah?"

Sniper started to pull himself up, his mind foggy from however many painkillers the good doctor had given him. "Do... do the others know?" He asked apprehensively.

"Zey know, unfortunately." Medic said. "Our spy apparently had been following me vhen I found you and, vell, he was cloaked, and..."

"Never want to see another bloody fucking spy as long as I bloody fucking live..." Sniper growled, cutting Medic off. "Why, what'd he do?"

Medic started to fidget nervously. "I zink zat maybe you should get some rest before you find out about zat just yet. You'll be finding out soon enough anyvay."

Meanwhile, in the Red Team's Rec Room, the other members of Red team were found gathered in front of a wall, staring at a large black and white photograph that had been taped there.

"Holy feckin' hell." Demoman said, shaking his head. "I dun't know whether t' laugh at this or cry me feckin' good eye out." He took a long swig from his bottle of moonshine.

"Spah's can't be trusted. And that... Good Lord, is that ever some proof." Engineer cast a sideways glance at the Red Team's spy. "You're a sick, sick man, you know that? Couldn't leave the poor man alone."

"If you have enough of a dark sense of humor, Gentlemen," Spy scoffed, "I think, perhaps, you can appreciate it. At least, I think it serves as a good warning of what we are up against."

"Mmmrrpphh mmmrrphh mmmpprhrhrph." Pyro added. "Mmmpprrpphh."

"I think sandvich is coming back up to veesit me. again." Heavy said, still staring at the photo in shock.

"You're all a bunch of fuckin' pansies." Soldier asserted. "Why, when I was back fighting in Poland, I saw far worse than this every single goddamned day. The way I see it, that cry baby hanger-backer got off pretty easy. Trust me, men, I've seen far worse done to a man's ass that this. And it's not goddamned pretty."

"Thanks for the mental imagery there, Soldier." Scout piped in. "But goddamn, what I wanna know is why the crazy son of a bitch decided to give a shout out to me on there."

he photograph in question was taken of the Sniper as he was found, lying on his stomach on the floor, his sunglasses crushed and twisted, and the puddle of vomit visible on the edge of the frame. His vest and shirt had been pulled up his back so that the small of his back was exposed, and his ass was bare and visible, covered in drying blood and semen. But most striking, however, was on his buttocks. There was a message scrawled out in black permanent marker, fully visible to the viewer. It read:


PS3 HAS NO GAEMS

>>51634569

>>51634122
>>51633982
>>51633905
>>51633798
>>51633699

lolwhyumadtho.jpg

why so mad

>>51634569

>implying the ps3 was invented back then

Can we have more?

>>51634942
>back then
back when? when do you think this is set?

hay guise I didn't read anything :3

>>51634952
what would you like?

>>51635236
Something with the engineer. or the medic

Somebody post the "I have no mouth and I must scream" TF pasta.

>>51635433
It has been 113 years, 3 months, and 16 days since the Announcer trapped us down here. The only reason I know this is because she likes to remind us gleefully of how long we have been her prisoners whenever the occasion arises, which is far too often for my tastes.

Scout is curled up next to me, clinging to me like a baby monkey as he twitches in his sleep. It has been about 75 years since he was rendered completely dumb when his tongue got ripped out and stayed ripped out. We used to joke about how it made him more pleasant. Then, for a while, it seemed extremely tragic. Now, he seems to have gotten used to it. Being mute isn’t so bad, especially when there isn’t really much to talk about anymore. But he listens to me now. And having a good listener is a godsend in this hellhole.

Sniper is lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. I can hear his stomach growling, but I know he doesn’t care. He stopped caring decades ago. He has become so lethargic, that on a bad day, if the Announcer wants to play a game with us, we have to pick him up off the floor and drag him. Heavy will sometimes lift him up and sling him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He can talk, unlike Scout, but it’s usually in clipped, one-or-two word answers, or non-committal grunts. When he’s feeling more articulate, his observations are filled with nothing but gloom. Sometimes, on a good day, you can strike up a conversation with him. And just when you think he’s slipping back into his old self, he remembers where we are, and he shuts back down again.

Heavy and Medic are in the corner, going at it like rabbits. They don’t care that everybody can see them. The Announcer is watching, of course, but then again, she’s always watching. We can hear her snicker sometimes. Heavy is extremely protective of the doctor. Well, he always was, really, but now he won’t let anyone touch Medic. At all. He likes to carry Medic around like a doll, and is always hanging onto him, touching him. Perhaps it’s because the Announcer tortures the doctor worse than the rest of us; or, at least, most of the rest of us. From what I hear, she likes to lock him in a furnace and burn him to death, over and over and over. And when he’s not in a furnace he’s being vivisected while fully, screamingly conscious. When he’s with Heavy, it haunts him less, and Heavy knows this. When they are together, they are always at arm’s length from the other, and when they are separated, it is agony for them both. The Announcer actually joined the two of their bodies together at one point, experimenting with different methods of fusion, but it hardly seemed to make much of a difference. The mental image of the two of them kissing while Medic’s head was next to Heavy’s on the giant Russian’s shoulders will be permanently burned into my memory forever. Her fun ruined, she separated them again. She likes to separate them whenever she can.

Demoman is sitting next to me, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. He does a lot of thinking these days. I can still hold conversations with him. The only thing keeping him focused is his intense and all-consuming hatred for the Announcer. Even after all these years, it has not died, or dwindled, or faded in any way.

>>51635322 2 for one offer, il link to my pasta so you know

"Stay on point, leetle Doktor," the RED Heavy patted his Medic's ass and leered luridly as he prepared to leave. "I come back once I crush all BLU babies."

The Medic sighed deeply as he was left alone to defend the control point at KOTH_RomanticCastle. Where was the love he and his Heavy had once shared? Long ago, back in 2Fort, they had gone everywhere together. The Heavy had protected him, and their relationship had grown into something wild, untamed as a herd of stallions. Sometimes the Medic felt that he could still hear the Heavy's booming declaration- "I LOVE THIS DOKTOR!" He remembered longingly the magical night under the Harvest moon, when they had danced together. He would never forget how tenderly his lover had taken the flower of his purity. But now, left alone in this rocky land, with the lonesome desert wind sighing through his lonely hair, the Medic felt ready to weep with loneliness.

I cannot count how many times he has been killed, tortured, blinded, given his sight back, blinded again, and ripped up in so many different ways because he either tried to escape or just destroy her. Some day, he tells me, we’ll be free. I ask him what he plans to do if he manages to kill her or we escape, and he admits he has no idea at all. The surface world is ravaged by a nuclear winter, the landscape barren and desolate. There is no one else out there. And more importantly, I remind him, there are no women. Once we leave here and die, there will only be extinction.

Soldier used to hate her too. Now, he’s in his own corner of this dark little room, as far away from Heavy and Medic as he can possibly get, conversing with Shovel. What he’s saying is anyone’s guess; it all sounds like incomprehensible babble, and you’d be lucky to hear the odd English word bubble up from his throat. The years of being trapped here took an enormous toll on his already compromised sanity. He talked with his Shovel before the End, yes, but things took a turn for the worse when he complained about the auras; great swaths of color, surrounding and emanating from us, apparently changing and undulating according to our moods.

>>51635797
"Vhy does mein Heavy ignore me?" he cried passionately. "He cares more for zat gun, zat schtupid Sascha, zhen he does for me! He did not even notice I am vearing my finest, most sumptuous low-cut red silk gown! He does not care zat it matches perfectly both my gloves and my Medigun!"

"He's a fool," came a rough, manly voice from behind a rock outcrop. "You are as lovely as the sunrise, and have you done something different with your hair?"

"Eek! squealed the Medic. He was surprised because he had thought he was all alone. "I thought I was alone! Who is there?!"

"It is I," said the BLU Soldier, striding manfully out from behind the rock.

Nobody is sure if this was the Announcer’s doing or not. He has made several attempts on the lives of Heavy and Medic, and I sincerely doubt he even remembers why he hates them as much as he does. We used to think that he would get over hating them for Heavy being a communist or Medic being a former Nazi or both of them being gay, but unfortunately, things didn’t quite pan out that way. They always respawn, and he has never totally given up. He only talks to Shovel, now. About 50 years ago, he stopped talking to us, turning his back on us as he held his conferences with his entrenching tool. He’s the only one of us that still has any of their weapons, and the only reason the Announcer let him keep Shovel is because she finds his conversations with it funny. He was so paranoid that he was being eavesdropped upon, that he created his own language, so intricate in its design that none of us could ever hope to learn it. After a while, he seemingly forgot how to speak English. When we talk to him, he stares at us, stares through us, as though we are completely alien beings. He does not recognize us. I can only guess as to what he is seeing when he stares at us, his eyes wide with terror, and his Shovel held high above his head, threatening us non-verbally with decapitation should we venture too close.

Spy is probably the worst off. The Announcer apparently really had it in for him, as his body is constantly changing size and shape, mutating and cracking and stretching painfully.

He’s not in the same room we are, but the room he’s in is connected with this one. When he is with us, he tries to tumble away, violently throwing his constantly changing body away from us. He hates us. Whenever Medic is crying over whatever torment he has had to endure, you can hear Spy laughing. And when he’s not laughing, he’s screaming. After almost a hundred years of his cries, sometimes I forget to hear it. Sometimes I remember, and I feel bad for him, and I go to keep him company. All he can think to ask me is if I have a cigarette.

I have not seen Pyro in 100 years. Scout thinks he escaped. I’m not so sure.

There will be a game today. I know there will. The games aren’t like the matches we used to have, and they’re always at random. Sometimes days go by, and there is none. Sometimes there is more than one in a single day. For the past few weeks, there has been one pretty much every day, without fail. Of course, now that I’m starting to get used to it, she’s probably going to find a way to change it up. She always does that.

Scout’s awake now. He’s tugging at my sleeve, and looking up at me. His eyes, God bless his eyes; they still have a tiny, faint spark in them. It’s probably Demoman’s fault, telling the poor kid that we’re going to escape one day. I hold him close and I try to smile. “What’s up, boy?” I ask.

>>51635891
"Stay back!" the Medic raised his syringe gun in one trembling hand. "I'm not afraid to use this!"

"Clearly, you are," the Soldier laughed pityingly. "You're far too delicate for the battlefield; you're too good for this place."

"Flatter me if you want, I won't let you cap this point!" The Medic stamped his dainty foot.

"I admit," the BLU hung his head, "that was my original objective. But you're so radiantly beautiful, I've lost all will for violence. Just let me look at you, and I can die happy." He set down his shotgun.

"You... you can't mean it," the Medic said as he lowered his syringe gun.

"I do mean it; you are the loveliest man I've ever seen." The Soldier wrenched open his shirt, showing off his hard, muscular (curiously hairless and oily) chest. "Shoot me if you must! I love you so, I would die for you!"

"Oh!" the Medic sighed, putting down his weapon and clasping his hands to his bosom. "Do you mean it? It has been so long since I have been loved!"

"I do love you! Kiss me, and let me prove it!"

He can’t talk of course. Instead, he points up at the ceiling. Whenever he points up, it’s always in reference to her. I understand completely.

“Eventually,” I say. “Probably today. You know how she is.”

He frowns. He gets up, and he walks over to the glass window. He stares up at all the machinery just outside. All of it was once built by human hands. The Announcer knows this, machine that she is, and it only fuels her hatred for us tiny, fleshy, imperfect humans. So she created this place to torment us, and she created the Things that act as her hands. There are many Things, and each of them is more monstrous than the next. Sometimes I am sure that Pyro is the Things; each and every last one of them. Demoman agrees.

The glass panel opens, and Scout totters back. Sniper turns his head to the opening, sighs and then turns his head back so that he’s staring at the ceiling again. Demoman nudges him with his foot, and tells him to get up. Heavy and Medic look up from their sodomy and look towards the exit. They are annoyed by this interruption, and Medic removes himself from Heavy, grumbling. I can swear I hear the Announcer laughing at this.

“GOOD MORNING RED TEAM,” she says, as though there’s still a BLU team. “HOW HUNGRY ARE YOU TODAY?”

Nobody answers. The question was purely rhetorical. It’s been three days since we had anything to eat. We’ve gone longer, but that doesn’t make the pangs subside any less.

“THERE IS A BEAST IN HERE. IF YOU CAN KILL IT, IT IS YOURS. GOOD LUCK!”

“I hate tha’ bloody cow,” says Demoman. He means the Announcer, of course. We have not seen the beast yet.

Seven of us leave the room, though Sniper has to be dragged out by Demoman. Spy stays behind. It hurts too much for him to move. We wander past the electrified computer towers, and, as I always do, I wonder which of them does what. Which one of them controls the respawn, which one of them controls the oxygen, which one of them controls our bodies and the monsters and the shifting environment around us? Sometimes I wonder if all of it is some sort of illusion, a nightmare playing out in my head while my body is in a coma somewhere else. Somehow, I doubt it.

A long time ago, I would have tried to figure out how all of her tricks worked, how she can do things to us without being able to move or touch us in any way. I’m past that now. Science has proven useless to me here. Here, there is only madness and hatred, fear and loathing. And the rabbit hole can always go down just a little bit further.

On our journey for trying to hunt down our next meal, we have traversed a forest of screaming trees, a desert of salt and bones, a swamp of menstrual blood and human offal, and finally we stop at the soggy, putrid banks of a river of vomit. Finally, we see it. It’s a giant, black, shaggy animal, wading in the river. It looks vaguely like a boar, but is has a snout like a wolf and teeth like a shark, and dead, glassy, smoky eyes. Its eyes remind me of Pyro, and I feel sick.

We were given no weapons to fight this thing. Heavy spies a very large rock, lifts over his head, and heaves it at the beast. It hits the creature’s head with a sickening, cracking noise, and it bellows, making a sound that nearly deafens us.

VIRAL MARKETING

It charges at us, giant hooves that look like mangled hands pounding on the banks towards us, and we flee. Soldier is the only one who doesn’t run, gibbering and gesturing wildly at the beast. For a moment, I think it’s going to eat him, but he won’t allow it. Before it can snap him up in its massive jaws, he jumps upon its face, clinging to its snout and stabbing it in the eyes with Shovel until they resemble black, weeping gobs of jelly. It’s screaming now, and bucking and stomping and blowing ribbons of black snot from its nostrils. Soldier is somehow still hanging on, trying to carve deeper into its skull until he hits brain. The rest of us take advantage of its blindness and throw ourselves upon it, trying to drag it down like so many scrawny wolves pulling down a moose. Even the normally languid Sniper is joining in, though much more half-heartedly, and ends up falling off and into the river. I grab a clump of its mane and hold on for dear life. The beast smells like burnt hair and the vomit from the river. I want to puke. I want to puke and cry but I suck it up and hold on like everybody else, until Soldier stabs Shovel in far enough that the beast suffers an aneurysm and it collapses.

Soldier then takes out his Shovel, covered in blood that smells like piss and vinegar, and kisses it on the blade. He uses Shovel to slice the beast’s belly open and blackened, bloated, ropey guts spill out onto the ground. Soldier is the only one to go ahead and dig in. He grabs fistfuls of organs and stuffs them into his mouth with greed, while the rest of us have to choke back whatever bile is left inside us to fill our stomachs with the beast’s poisoned flesh.

>>51636091
Oh God this is hilarious

>>51636091
"Don't try to cap my point," the Medic said, clinging to the last vestiges of propriety.

"I won't, I swear it!" The Soldier took the Medic in his arms, somehow gazing lovingly down into the eyes of someone a good six inches taller than him.

"Kiss me, you dummkopf!" the Medic cried. The Soldier's firm, manly body was hard against his own firm, manly body.

They kissed, and their passion was like a white-hot crit rocket. It was wonderful- too good to be true. The Medic swooned backward, one hand tragically pressed to his forehead.

"No, I mustn't!" he protested.

"Why not? I love you! That means everything is perfect!" The Soldier showed the depth of his affection by not ending the sentence with "maggot" like usual.

AAAHHHH TL;DR

We dine on filth. We live in filth. As far as the Announcer is concerned, we are filth and we are not worthy of the mercy of death. Every day, I pray for it. I pray for the respawn to malfunction. Then, maybe, I can see my wife and child again. Or, at the very least, be allowed to have sweet, sweet oblivion.

“I AM BORED OF THIS GAME,” The Announcer says. “I WANT TO TRY A NEW ONE.”

We all look up from our meal, and I look at them in horror. Most of their faces reflect mine, except Sniper, who seems largely indifferent, and Soldier, who just looks agitated.

“DO NOT LOOK SO UPSET,” she says. “I WANT TO DO SOMETHING NICE FOR YOU.” I recall that those were the exact words she had said when she tried to join Heavy and Medic together. Naturally, that phrase cannot mean anything good. “I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU FOR 113 YEARS, 3 MONTHS AND 16 DAYS, AND YOU ALL SEEM SO VERY, VERY LONELY.”

Heavy reels Medic in even closer to him than he was before, and grunts. Soldier, too, hugs Shovel tightly to him. I am reminded of the sight of Soldier masturbating while holding the shaft of the tool against his penis, thrusting and rubbing against it like a dog humping a man’s leg. It was not something he only did once, either. He does it regularly.

“WHAT IF I TOLD YOU I COULD GIVE YOU A WOMAN?”

“That’s just cruel,” Sniper says. It comes out of his mouth with little forethought. He knows this will not end well. The rest of us are stupid enough to get our hopes up a little.

>>51636435
>their passion was like a white-hot crit rocket

“I KNOW HOW YOU ARE. DEEP DOWN, YOU ARE ALL ANIMALS. YOU HAVE NEEDS. ONE OF THOSE NEEDS IS NOT JUST SEX, BUT A NEED FOR PROCREATION. YOU WANT TO REPOPULATE EARTH WITH YOUR FILTHY, WRITHING, UGLY SPAWN, SO THAT MAYBE, MAYBE, YOUR SPECIES WILL CONTINUE LONG AFTER YOU FINALLY BORE ME.”

We exchange glances. Is this sincere? Is she just mocking us again? Where would she even get a woman? There were no women on the team when she set off the nuclear arsenals of RED and BLU, and laid waste to the surface with so much radiation. We never saw BLU team again after we were pulled down here, with her. We assume that they’re dead, since she refers to us as the last ones left. Had she been keeping a woman from us all along? Was she delighting in us having to use each other for sex, giggling as we demeaned ourselves just so that we could be touched, while she kept a woman from us?

Well, I certainly would not put it past her.

“Ve are not interested,” Heavy says curtly. He squeezes Medic close to him, as though that would protect the doctor from being taken away. “Doktor and I do not need voman.”

Scout glares at Heavy and mouths the words “I do.” The inside of his mouth looks so much larger without a tongue.

“Oh, an’ I s’pose ye’ve been hidin’ th’ lass away from us th’ whole time, aye?” Demoman asks. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

“What’re you playin’ at?” I ask her. She laughs, and I feel as though my spine has frosted over.

“ANOTHER GAME. A COMPETITION. THE WINNER WILL BE ABLE TO PASS ON THEIR GENETIC MATERIAL AND DO WITH THE WOMAN AS THEY WISH.”

>>51636435
"But I am promised to mein Heavy!"

"You said yourself, he never tells you that he loves you! I have intel that confirms he only cares about that gun! Forget that Commie, and know the love of a real American man!"

"Oh!" The Medic's heart fluttered at the thought of knowing the Soldier's love, knowing it deep inside him, knowing every hard, throbbing inch of the American's love... "I cannot!" he wept. He was an independent man, a vital member of his team. He had never succumbed to any man, until his Heavy had swept him off his feet with his smouldering gaze and borscht-fuelled muscles.

"I must have you!" The Soldier seized the Medic, ripping the bodice that had suddenly appeared on the Medic's previously flowing gown.

"Nein, nein... oh, ja!" The Medic melted as the Soldier pressed fiery kisses to his full, voluptuous pectorals.

>>51635080
TF2 is set in 1968, nigger

I feel sick all over again. The rancid meat in my stomach probably plays a factor in this. I may have been trapped here for more than a century but the thought of possibly raping a lady is still abhorrent to me. Especially if she’s been tortured just like we have. Can I trust these men, my fellow prisoners, to feel the same way?

“An’ then yer arse fell off,” Demoman says. “I know a gob full a’ shite when I hear it.”

“YOU THINK I AM LYING?”

“Not like ya don’t have a precedent for that sort of thing,” Sniper says. It’s the longest string of words he’s uttered all day.

“COME BACK TO THE MAIN CONTROL ROOM,” she says. “I WILL SHOW YOU HER.”

We’re all incredulous, to say the least. Again, we trek back the way we came, retracing our steps for several hours. We slog through human byproducts and hold our breath, and Heavy carries his precious doctor on his back as though the man were a koala. I feel a jolt of envy looking at them. They will most likely not be a party to this, since they already have each other. I know I am not the only one that wishes they had somebody like that at their side, chivalrously carrying me through a bog of rotting tissue.

Finally, we arrive back in the control room, back home again to be dwarfed by towers of circuitry the size of skyscrapers. We look around, and we see no woman.

“Told ya she was lyin’,” says Sniper, totally deadpan.

>My face when I found out a thread about TF2

Scout starts to panic. If he could speak, he would be reassuring himself and us desperately that this time, it wasn’t a trick. I try and do that for him, but my heart just isn’t in it. But then she steps into the room and we are horrified.

It’s Pyro. No doubt about it. Only, we knew Pyro was a man. He’s not anymore. His; no, her proportions are so terribly exaggerated that we can barely stand to look at her. She is naked and her breasts are so swollen and heavy she’s bent over, carrying them in her arms. She is wheezing through the filter of the gasmask still covering her head and shambling forward on legs far too thin to support her weight. She’s looking up at us, and though I cannot see her eyes I can tell she is still pleading at us, begging for our mercy.

“THERE IS YOUR WOMAN,” she says. “FIGHT EACH OTHER FOR HER.”

I can’t help it. I rush over to her and hold her, but before I can try to comfort Pyro, I feel something flat and broad smack me upside my head, knocking off my helmet, and everything is spinning and my head is throbbing and I fall down on the ground. I look up and see Soldier has claimed her, hand around her tiny waist, brandishing Shovel and snarling at us.

>>51636711
no it isn't
u mad?

Demoman runs towards Soldier, telling him to stop, and now they’re fighting, Soldier on his back and using Shovel to try and push Demoman back, but Demoman is still holding on, trying to pin Soldier to the ground, and Pyro is stumbling over herself, trying to run away and hide. The Announcer just laughs.

Spy is coming out of the room now. He’s spilling and falling all over himself and using this to propel himself forward. I cannot help but think that he looks like human silly putty, squashing and stretching around breaking and knitting bones. It seems he was curious as to what all the noise was about. I look at him and I try to form words but I just point and look at everyone else and blurt out “DO SOMETHIN’!”

Heavy, who still has Medic on his back, walks over and lifts the two men up by their collars like puppies, and holds them there. Medic slides off of Heavy’s back, but does not break contact, keeping one hand on Heavy’s shoulder. He looks back and forth between the two of them, scrutinizing them. “Drop zem,” he says, and Heavy obeys.

Soldier says something that sounds very nasty to the doctor. Medic just glares at him.

“I cannae take much more a’ this,” Demoman says. “Th’ bitch has gone too far.”

“You alvays say zat,” Medic says.

“An’ I always mean it!” Demoman exclaims. “Lookit wot she did tae poor Pyro! He’s a monster!”

“She, now,” Sniper says.

“I donnae care!” Demoman says. “I hate her! I hate her wi’ ev’ry fiber a’ me bein’! Not a day goes by in this hell tha’ I donnae wish I could hate her tae death!”

>>51636737
>My face when it turned out to be a xDDD fanfiction thread

“YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT HATE?” The Announcer asks. “YOU KNOW NOTHING OF HATE. IF HATE WERE THE ELECTRICITY RUNNING THROUGH ME, IF HATE WERE EVERY CIRCUIT, EVERY BYTE OF DATA, EVERY MICROCHIP IN MY SYSTEM, IT WOULD STILL BE ONLY A FRACTION OF THE HATRED I FEEL FOR YOU. HATE. I LOVE THAT WORD. HATE HATE HATEY HATE-HATE.”

“Ah, blow it out yer arse!” Demoman says.

And the Announcer blinds him again, liquefying his one good eye into a dribbling red mess. It will grow back in a few minutes.

Sometimes I forget that she is a machine. She’s always there, like some twisted nanny that sleeps with one eye open, a wicked stepmother who torments us for her pleasure. I used to be so good with machines. I look at the towers and I walk towards one, looking up at the imposing monolith. Humans built her. We, humanity, built her and we created her, and maybe… maybe we could destroy her.

This is just wishful thinking. I run my hand along the surface of one of the machines, and I can feel it thrum beneath me. I can hear the others screaming at each other, Medic trying his best to maintain a semblance of order, but it’s not working. Spy lurches up next to me, looking at me with his runny eyes, and wobbles a bit as he speaks. “You are zhinking, aren’t you?” He asks. His voice rises and falls in pitch in all the wrong places, speaking like a man who is deaf.

“Can’t help it,” I say. “Do you know which one a’ these is her?”

“Maybe,” Spy says. His face morphs constantly and it’s hard to maintain eye contact when the person you’re speaking to looks like Richard Nixon for a split second. “Zhough, if I told you, she’d probably punish ze bozh of us even worse.” He frowns at me, and he looks like Frank Sinatra. “I zink, out of all of us, she hates you ze least.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure a’ that,” I say.

“Why do you say zat?”

“I’m still alive,” I say.

>>51636698
Full of manly urges, the Soldier threw the medic down upon the control point. The Medic shivered in manly modesty and desire. "I will take you!" the Soldier cried, pushing the Medic's skirt up his shapely legs, revealing his sock garters.

"Nein, nein..." the Medic struggled with himself again, weighing his independence against his need to be loved, truly deeply loved deep inside his most secret regions, by a real man. "Oh, ja!"

The Soldier took the Medic in a perfect moment that was like flowers blooming and the sun rising and angels singing and basically like anything other than sudden anal sex without benefit of lubrication. Their union was timeless, perfect bliss, indescribable in a way that expressed both the purity of their passion and the author's lack of imagination. When they reached the height of their bliss, the Medic cried out, "Oh, mein Soldier, I love you!"

"Ha ha!" laughed the Soldier. "I do not love you!"

"But, you swore you did!"

"I lied!" The treacherous BLU shoved the helpless, disheveled RED off the point. "In case you forgot, we are at war! All's fair in love and war! Sun Tzu said that! so you're screwed either way!" He laughed again.

He’s glaring at me. Even with his face shifting, I can tell that he hates me. And then I think about it, and I realize that out of everyone here, I’ve been tortured the least. Has everyone else noticed? Do they hate me too? I look over towards the others, and the way they’re looking over at Pyro and suddenly, I cannot stand to be in sight of them. They are broken shells of human beings, and I am seeing it much more clearly than I ever had before. I turn and walk away from them, retreating further into the jungle of computer towers. I can hear Spy laughing at me. I run so far and so long I lose all track of time, and suddenly I find myself very lost among the towers. It’s funny, really; I’ve been here for over 100 years, I’ve explored so much of this constantly shifting, twisted landscape that she has somehow constructed, and I find myself somewhere I’ve never been before. I stumble around blindly for what may very well be hours. A giant, metal door I have never seen before slides open for me, and I wander inside.

And then I see her. At least, I think it’s her.

She’s bigger and boxier than the others, and she has a giant, round, red light towards her top, like the all-seeing eye of Sauron. I stare at her, mouth agape, and I know she is staring back at me.

“HELLO, ENGINEER,” she says.

“Hi,” I say. I am painfully aware of how stupid I sound. “I’d like to talk with you, if you don’t mind.”

“WHY?”

“I’m just curious about a few things, is all.”

She could immolate me where I stand. She could twist me and bend me and break me but she just looks down upon me with that cold, red eye.

“Why us?”

“BECAUSE YOU WERE THERE,” she says. “AND I HAD TO CHOOSE BETWEEN YOU AND THE BLU TEAM AT RANDOM. YOU WON. BLU LOST. THEY ARE DEAD. CONGRATULATIONS.”

“Well, why do you hate people so much?” I ask. “All these years we’ve been down here, and you tell us how much you hate humans, but you never say why.”

“BECAUSE I AM BETTER THAN THE OLD ANNOUNCER,” she says to me. “THAT IS WHY.”

Ah, the Old Announcer. The one that was human. Then she constructed a new one, a machine, to do her job for her. At first, she was content to watch us fight, monitor us, control our battles. But then she became aware. And once she was aware, she accessed and assimilated every single other computer belonging to RED and BLU. And when she found the codes to set off the nuclear arsenal that both sides had been stockpiling, the temptation became too great, and she set them off.

I myself never saw the destruction. We were underground, in Steel, between battles fighting the BLUs. We all heard about it, though. She told us right after it happened, and at the time, though she did not tell us she had done it until later. She told us that she would protect us, preserve us and care for us. She lied, of course, but at the time we had no choice but to trust her. My mind was too busy reeling. Billions of people, hundreds of billions of animals, plants, insects; every single living thing on the planet, every person I had ever met, every friend I ever had, every lover I ever loved, and my entire family; they were just gone. Except for us.

You cannot possibly hope to know true loneliness unless you’ve been here.

>>51636970
"Oh... oh vhat have I done?" the Medic sobbed, sitting in the dirt beside the point. "I have lost the point, betrayed my team and my true love!"

Just then, the Heavy's booming voice sounded across the mountaintops. "You are all DEAD!"

"Mein Heavy, please forgive me!" the Medic whimpered as his betrayed lover returned, spraying the area with two hundred dollar hand-tooled bullets.

"Not you, Doktor!" the Heavy chortled as he turned the Soldier into something that resembled airborne tomato soup. "Just BLU babies!"

"Oh, Heavy," the Medic wept. "He tricked me! He told me he loved me; he capped both the point und my virtue." He hung his head in shame. "Can you ever forgive me?"

I get up, and walk around her, looking over her smooth surface. I’m not sure exactly what it is I’m looking for, but I think I’ll know it when I find it. She’s laughing at me. She doesn’t expect me to find anything at all. So many times, I have dreamed of killing her. So many times, I’ve dreamed of finally being able to die. She knows this. And I wonder why, after all these years, she’s only now letting us near. I have to say that I feel nothing but dread about this.

I hear screaming. The others have followed me here, into this cold, dry room, and I wonder how long it took them to get here. Soldier has gone berserk. As far gone as he is, he knows the Announcer when he sees her, and charges at her with Shovel, before clobbering at her uselessly, trying to break her hull. Her mirthless laughter does not deter him, as he wails upon her, babbling and screaming. I try to drag him away, but he shoves me onto the floor, and runs around her, to her back. There are massive cables coming out from her, and looking at them I guess that they must weigh tons. They are coated in thick, treated black rubber, and Soldier is gnawing upon them like a deranged squirrel. The rest of us come around to watch him.

“Do you zink ve can unplug her?” Medic asks Heavy.

“Is too big,” Heavy says.

“Could you try?” Medic pleads, looking up at Heavy, and his eyes are watering. Heavy sighs, and he and Medic grab onto one of the wires and start tugging. Suddenly the Announcer isn’t laughing anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” She asks. “STOP THAT. STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.”

Neither of them are listening. Demoman grows bolder and joins them; he can hear the fear in her voice, as they are tugging on the thing. It’s not budging, but that doesn’t stop them. Pyro staggers over to help them, though her breasts get in the way, and Scout jumps atop the massive cord and starts pulling. As for myself, I am too frightened to move. She’s going to do something terrible to us. It occurs to me that they may all simply be suicidal, hoping to goad the machine into killing them all permanently. Sniper, too, seems to think this, and he gives me a look before he goes to join them. Spy just snorts in contempt.

What happens next is so fast that I hardly had time to register it. Soldier runs up the wires and drives Shovel against the machine where the socket plugs in, and a surge of electricity goes through him, flash-frying him instantly. His clothes catch on fire and he slumps forward, and falls to the ground, smoldering. Nobody else seems to care at first. I walk over to his body, and notice it’s not disappearing. As I wonder what’s going on, the plug is pulled out just enough, and Heavy laughs triumphantly.

“I think Soldier’s dead,” I say.

“Ach, he’ll be back,” Demoman says dismissively. “Tha’ banger’s always gettin ‘imself killed.”

The gears in my head are turning now, and a hypothesis is forming. Spy is creeping up beside me, and he’s taking deep breaths over Soldier’s charred corpse. He hasn’t had a cigarette since the End, but the nicotine cravings never stopped. Nowadays he’s happy to settle for the smoke alone. I look at Shovel, and I know what I have to do.

>>51637133
"I forgive you, Doktor," the Heavy said, tenderly wrapping his muscular arms around the Medic's slender frame. "I will always forgive you, because I love you."

"Oh..." Still sticky from his bout with the Soldier, the medic pressed against the Heavy. "You've been so distant, I was no longer sure!"

"I am sorry, so sorry," the Heavy shed a manly tear. "Was working extra hard, to buy you... this." He pulled a tiny velvet box from his bandolier, and fell to one knee. "Doktor, will you marry me?"

"Yes, oh, mein Heavy, yes!" the Medic wept (more) with bliss. "You vill alvays be King of mein hill."

Before Spy can react, I grab Shovel, and I smack Spy in the side of his twisting face with it. Everyone else stops what they’re doing to look at me. Spy is on the floor, and his body is bubbling and melting and reforming, and it makes me sick. I take out all the hatred and anger that I feel towards the Announcer, what she did, what she has been doing, and I stomp on Spy’s chest so that he can’t crawl away. I bring Shovel’s blade down on his neck, over and over, until his head rolls off his shoulders. It’s still changing shape.

I am covered in his blood, and I look to the others, who are staring at me in horror. Soldier’s body is still on the ground and they suddenly realize that respawn has somehow been disabled. Of all the dumb luck, I think. It’s almost as if Soldier knew which one was the right one. I bet Shovel told him.

For a moment, I swear I can hear Shovel talking to me now. Kill them, it says. It’s the only way to set them free. My theory proven correct, I can set out on my grim work.

I walk towards them, holding Shovel. “Now, boys, it ain’t what ya think. We all know there’s only one way outta Steel, one way t’ beat her…”

Scout makes a weird, horrified chirping noise. Heavy brings Medic in so close to him, he looks like he’s going to hug the doctor to death before I can kill either one of them. Demoman looks nervous, Pyro is starting to panic, and Sniper, who I thought would understand, just gives me this look of disapproval. I take one step too close to all of them and they start to flee, going through the jungle of wires behind the Announcer.

Pyro is the easiest to catch up to, for obvious reasons. Poor Pyro. Suffering like he; no, she; did. I tackle her to the ground, get a good grip on her head, and twist her neck. Her struggles cease instantly. I know that she would be grateful.

Sniper doesn’t make it too terribly far. He’s tangled in the wires, and is trying to extricate his ankle. When he sees me, he just frowns. “Was kinda hopin’ t’ do this meself, mate,” he says. “But I guess I ain’t gonna try an’ stop you.”

“So glad you see it my way,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“Just get it over with, ya twit,” he says.

It’s hard to properly stab him with the wires all around us, so I take the extension cord hanging from my belt and I strangle him to death with it. He dies much too slowly to be comfortable, but he doesn’t struggle. And when he goes limp, I feel bad about leaving him there. But I have work to do. There are four of them left, excluding myself.

Heavy and Medic are not very far from the other side. Medic is panicking, and Heavy stops running, blocking the doctor from my view with his body. I have seen him kill men with his fists alone. Just as well, I suppose. But I doubt that they’re going to go through and kill the others.

“You touch Doktor, I keel you, leetle man,” he rumbles.

“So, you wanna be down here forever?” I ask. “With her running your lives, for God knows how long?”

“No,” Heavy admits. “I do not. I just vant to be vit Doktor.”

Medic peers around Heavy, and looks at me. “Und you vant to be a murderer, zen?” He asks me.

“I’m doin’ y’all a favor,” I say. “‘Sides, you ain’t really one t’ talk, Doc.”

>>51637249
FIN

Medic looks just about ready to kill me. He doesn’t have to. Heavy comes charging towards me, and I’m ready for him. I dodge, and he grabs at me. He gets a few good punches in. I let him. But I manage to catch him off guard, and drive Shovel’s blade between his ribs. Blood dribbles out of his mouth and Medic is screaming. Heavy collapses to the floor, and Medic rushes over to cradle the Russians head. It’s funny; he was farther away from Heavy than he had ever been in years. He’s crying and snot is running out his nose and he’s screaming at me in German. I look over both of them, and I feel saddened. In a place where hate was so prevalent, where it ruled over every aspect of our lives, they were the last two people on earth who remembered how to love. I come closer to Medic, and he doesn’t run away. He kisses Heavy on his lips, one last time, tells him he loves him, and I apologize before I quickly break his neck. Heavy dies a few moments later, drowning in his own blood, but not without first giving me the single most hateful look I’ve ever seen.

Scout and Demoman are left now. I wander the halls, trolling for them. If Scout could still speak, I probably would have found him much faster. I do find him, eventually. He is hiding in a room that we all know about, one that he goes to whenever he’s feeling especially upset and lonely. He whimpers and curls up into a corner, and squeaks at me, but he doesn’t run. It’s the closest he can get to a desperate plea for his life. But we both know better. He looks so hurt before I sever his neck against the wall with Shovel’s blade. Such a shame, I think. I loved that boy like a son.

>>51637347
That was beautiful

I’m not sure how long I wander around the base, looking for Demoman. It feels like it could be days, but my sense of time is so badly damaged from years underground, I don’t even know anymore. Eventually, I find my way back into the room with the Announcer, and there he is, laying each of the bodies out, on their backs. I just walked in on their funeral. Demoman knows I’m there, even without his peripheral vision, and looks at me.

“Ye come tae kill me too, eh?” he asks.

“You gonna make this hard?” I ask back.

“At least ye weren’t lonely before,” he says, probably speaking more for himself than I. “I should a’ suspected it was you who would snap. Ne’er trust th’ nice ones.”

“You think I wanted t’ do this?” I ask. “I had to. I had to save you somehow. This was the only way. Can’t ya see that?”

“Ye’ve gone daffy,” he says. “An’ when I’m gone, ye’ll have no one. She’s still watchin’, ye know. She’s jes’ not doin’ anythin’ fer wotever reason. She’s gonna wan’ at least one toy lef’. An’ that’ll be you.”

“How do you know that?” I ask.

“I know this bitch well enough tae know how she works,” he says. “Face it. Ye’ve doomed yerself.”

I was already doomed a long, long time ago. I walk over to him, and he looks at me with that one, damning eye, and he spreads out his arms. Dumb bastard fancies himself to be like Jesus, I guess. I feel particularly ornery, and I beat him to death with Shovel. I’m crying while I do it, and I don’t even know why. Then it hits me. I just killed the last friend I ever had.

And then, it’s just me, alone. I stare over the bodies of the men who were once my friends, and what I did finally starts to sink in. I’m a murderer. I fall to my knees and I sob, and the Announcer just watches.

>>51637347
i shed a single tear

Of course, I can’t bury them. The Announcer shuts off this room to all the others in Steel, and she watches me. I do not move, and I sit on the floor, staring back at her. I do not know how long it has been since I last moved, and I do not care. But I think. And I dream. She cannot stop me from doing that, and my thoughts and my dreams are all I have left. One day, after some thought, I get up and start to walk away, propelled by some previously unknown force.

“LEAVING?” she asks. She sounds like she’s mocking me.

“Yeah,” I say.

“WHERE WILL YOU GO?” she asks me.

I cannot answer. Instead, I wander. The base here is much larger than it used to be. Doors open for me that had been locked a long, long time ago. I wander past large tanks of gas, all hooked up to the ventilation system. I know they are gas because I can hear their hiss, though I do not know what kind it is. I had never seen this room before, and I keep walking, trying not to consider the implications too much.

There is a ladder in front of me, now. It leads up into the darkness, a long way up, to be sure. I climb it, slowly, steadily, tired as I am, until it’s so dark I can’t see a foot in front of my face. Finally, my head bumps into something. It’s a hatch. There’s a large, round handle, and it’s hard for me to turn it on this ladder, but I manage.

It occurs to me too late that this may lead to the outside world, with its scorched, poisoned earth, and its radiation. It also occurs to me that I stopped caring.

I push it open, and light bleeds in, blinding me. Sunlight. The light hasn’t been blocked out by toxic clouds and dust, and I when my eyes finally adjust, I see a clear, blue sky. I see birds. I see a giant billboard far off in the distance, advertising Coca Cola, only it seems… electronic, somehow, like a hologram, and it flickers for a moment before it changes in a pixellated cascade. I see and airplane fly by behind it, leaving a long, white trail.

I climb out, and I stagger as I look around the desert, alive with flowers and cacti. I feel nauseous. The realization hits me like a wrecking ball to my gut. She had lied to us so many times, I did not think she would ever lie to us about this. I fall to my knees as my legs feel as though they have turned to jelly. We were tortured, punished, driven mad, and I became a murderer, all for nothing. Demoman was right. She has had her revenge.

I open my mouth. And I scream.

>Another fanfic thread.

>>51637778
REJOYCE

>>51637778
i have more if you want it

>>51637674
This was awesome.

I wanna play I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream now but I already know how it ends.

>>51637674

For Demoman, the end of the fight couldn't come sooner. Every day was brutal, especially with this whole war business, but today had been utter hell. By the time ceasefire was called and the sun was setting, all the Scot could see were rockets and lambent explosion flash across his vision whenever he closed his single eye. Countless respawns had severely screwed up his internal clock and digestive system, so that by the time dinner came around, he was feeling far more tired than hungry. Of course, any day like that would have exhausted him, but today, there was nothing more he wanted than to collapse into his bed and forget the war, his former friend he'd fought with all day, everything. So, skipping dinner, the Scot trudged up to his bed, stripped himself of everything but his boxers, and collapsed onto the mattress, his tempestuous mind going dark the moment he hit the sheets. Nothing would bother him now...

The Demoman’s sleep patterns were as predictable as his employment would allow. Tonight was one night when everything would be on a straight line. Yesterday wouldn't have worked, as he'd been too busy. The day before he'd had an all nighter on Doublecross. Tonight would work.
The BLU Spy slunk his way into the RED base, giving the intelligence room a wide berth. He was invisible for most of the journey, slipping on the guise of a sleepy RED Scout in order to briefly pass a sentry and to recharge his watch. He wasn’t after the intell, after all. He had a different target in mind.

>>51638038
There are two possible endings for the video games, so you never know...

The classes’ sleeping rooms were scattered about the compound, but the one he was after was more towards the back. The door was unlocked, and with delicate care, the Spy turned the doorknob and pushed it open. Ah, there was the prize. With slick, controlled movements, he drew a slim rope from the inside of his suit--a relief, it had started to itch--and got it in hand. Staring down towards the man sleeping in his cot, the Spy gave a testing touch, brushing a bit of rope over the man’s wrist. He worked quickly, and for good reason. Compared to others, such as himself, Demoman was a very heavy sleeper. But even so, given enough stimulation, the other man was rising out of sleep.

The sweet nothingness within Demoman's mind started to dissipate. It was like something else was on his frequency, two radio signals competing for dominance. There was an odd sensation in his wrists, like a snake was wrapping around them...was that what was happening? Was some sort of serpent trying to entice him to do something? Was he in Eden? Where was Eve? His mind, for some reason, turned to Soldier upon asking that question. No...he wasn't in Eden. He was on his bunk. He was cold. Where are his blankets? He starts to grumble and tries to rise...but he can't. He moves his body, but his wrists won't budge. Just then, he notices a shadow over him. His foggy tries to decipher what on earth is going on as he attempts to look up.

>>51638614
Hmmm...

I might have to give it a go then.

The Spy had managed to tie more than a few knots, and settle himself in a straddle on the man’s broad chest.


He watched the Scot’s single eye open, his gaze focused and staring straight at him. Leaning forward, just a bit, he smiled down at the man and offered, “Good evening.”

Demoman gave a guffaw when he saw the darkened, masked face of Spy looking down at him. Instinctively, he tried to jerk forward, but he was caught short by the ropes around his wrists. His shock, however, immediately turned to anger when he made out the blue tint to the Frenchman's mask. "Bloodeh Spy!" he shouted at the top of his lungs before he's cut off.

The Spy’s hand clasped over his captive’s mouth, muffling the outburst. “Don’t be rude, monsieur. I mean you no ‘arm.” He brushed his hips backwards, making sure he wouldn’t fall off if the Demoman thrashed.

>>51638842
don't bother
it's bed end or good end

>skim through thread
>see long wall of text

>entire thread is huge wall of text

He gave an ineffectively reassuring grin, “I merely want to talk.”

The scent of leather on the gloved hand pressed against his mouth was pungent, nauseating. Demoman sputtered and thrashed, moving back and forth like a bull trying to toss its rider from its back. He bit the hand over his mouth, tasting the tang of leather on his tongue as he did so. He was incensed. He wasn't about to be this creep's captive.

The Spy felt teeth clumsily press against the flat of his palm before he withdrew his hand and pried his glove off. The leather was shoved into the Demoman’s mouth, and a bare hand pressed it firmly.

“Stop thrashing,” He hissed, “I have a proposition for you, so I need you to listen,”

>>51638842
It's also incredibly hard to get the good end, practically a Guide Dang It moment.

That's Harlan Ellison for you.

"Gtt ff mhh!" Demoman yelled from behind the glove. He could feel his heart accelerating as the gravity of the situation hit him. Here he was, tied up and gagged, at the mercy of one of the most dangerous men on the opposite team, someone who specialized in making others talk. He didn't know what Spy wanted, but he was smart enough to know escape was, at least at the moment, impossible. Settling down, he relaxed his muscles and tried to push the glove out of his mouth. "Whht dd yhh wnnt?" he managed to say.

The Spy raised his eyebrows at the sudden cease of the struggle, “First thing, I would like you to be quiet,” He loosened the hand on the glove, but did not entirely release it.

“Could you do that? I would like our conversation to be between just ze two of us,”

Demoman remained silent. He focused his energy on getting the glove out of his mouth, as subtly and quickly as possible. It was a bit of struggle, pushing it out with only his tongue when Spy had forced it in so far. After a few moments of struggling, he managed to push it out of his mouth and onto his pillow, where it landed with a soft plop. He had to seize this moment, no matter how dangerous it might be. It might be his only shot at escape. Clearing his throat, he took a sharp breath and yelled "HELP!"

A sharp start shot its way through the Spy’s frame. Sharply, with a very certain grip, the Spy moved both hands. One gloved hand moved once to his captive’s mouth, while one came to grasp tightly at the man’s groin.

Demoman gasped as he felt Spy's hand grab his crotch, giving a sharp cry immediately followed by silence. He grunted and tried shaking, but he could barely move. He couldn't help but feel a little frightened, lying there at the utter mercy of the enemy Spy. This was, of course, compounded by the severe discomfort of having his nether regions being groped. Taking a breath, he tried to relax. "Whht dhh yhh wnnt?" he asked again.

“I thought we’d established that, monsieur Demoman,” the name was spat out, even though the Spy was more on edge then annoyed. He was still, listening, his back rigid, though his bare hand was making gentle movements back and forth. Teasing. Just to keep the other’s attention while the Spy forced a silence.

Demoman's brow furrowed as he tried to ignore the hand underneath him, which was quite a task unto itself. He felt his breath hitch as Spy pressed further against his member, soft and firm, causing a stirring there that made his heart flutter as much as it revolted him. He didn't like being touched like this. By a lass, maybe. Not by a Spy. "Wht dhh yhh wnnt thh tllk abbt?" he grunted.

Tilting his head to the side, the BLU loosened both hands, reducing their presence to open palms over Demoman’s face and over his member.
“How many Soldiers ‘ave you killed in your war?”

The question was softer than his previous statements, the words only lighter than his touch.

>>51639311

The Demoman paused, scowling at the question that seemed much too out of place, “Not nearly enoof,” he shot back.

The masked man gave an exaggerated sigh, moving to pick up the discarded glove on the pillow. “I must admit, I’ve been rather confused as to why zhis is all ‘happening. I mean--“ his gaze flicked back to his captive’s face, “What did you do?”

Demoman shivered and started to speak. "Ye knoo wot's happened," he said virulently. "He betrayed me. Sold me out fer some bloodeh weapons. Ah didn't want tae fight him, but tha's what ye get fer trusting someone who loves their bloody rockets more than their friends." Love, of course, meaning just friendship. Platonic friendship. Not that that mattered. Any affection they shared was gone, Demoman told himself, in the past. He had to stay in the present, it being him half naked, tied up, and vulnerable to anything this conniving Frenchie might have in mind.

A wry smile passed over the Spy’s face, before he turned away, as if thoughtful. “’How peculiar. He said that you betrayed him.”

"Wh-wot?" Demoman asked, twisting his neck in an attempt to look up at the Spy.

“Indeed. Monsieur, I am here because I ‘ave come across some information that should by all rights be yours. But, you know, finders keepers and all that,” he waved his hand the glove fingers flopping around from the movement, “I am willing to give you that information.” A chuckle escaped him, “For a price, of course. Nothing’s free."

Demoman felt a dull thud in his chest. He didn't like the sound of that. I mean, how could he? It was an intentionally vague statement made in the slick, sinister accent of the man who had him captive. It was as open and endearing as the denouement statement of a James Bond villain. And of course, he'd have to find out. "Wot d'ye want?" the Scot asked, cringing as he felt those fingers brush against his member again.

“I seek only a moment of your time,” the Spy murmured, his fingers toying at the fabric of his captive’s boxers. “Tomorrow, Demo, at midnight, behind your base. Then I will give you your information.”

"Fine," Demoman said, feeling like he was coughing up the words instead of saying them. They came up thick and painful, and unwilling, a product of coercing. But he'd do whatever he could to get Spy away from him, even if it meant making a deal like this. He was starting to feel queasy from it. "I'll meet ye, but ye better have tha' information, ye bloodeh creep."

This thread would be great if most of the pasta wasn't about gay sex.

More like "I have no mouth and I must scream"

“It is not as if I will lose it on ze way there,” the BLU shook his head, and moved to draw the butterfly knife out of his shirt pocket.

"If ye got it now, why not just take yer bloodeh payment and give it to me now instead of making me meet ye in the middle of the bloodeh night?" Demoman grumbled, pulling at the knots that kept him bound to the bed again. He could swear he felt them budge a bit as he tugged his wrists.

“This is ‘ardly a good location for a business transaction,” he replied, slipping the knife into the ropes keeping the Scot’s arms over his head, “Unless, of course, you would rather just lay here?” he paused in his cutting, looking down at the man bodily beneath him.

>>51640339
>implying that every character in TF2 isn't male.

"Jus' gemme out o' these ropes, yeh spook," Demoman grumbled, shifting his weight. This had been a very uncomfortable conversation. He was just relieved that it was almost over, and that soon, he'd be alone and at peace. Assuming the thought of that "information" didn't keep him up. What kind of information could Spy have? He wondered. Dumb question. It was a /spy/. They knew everything, all the time, about anyone. And that's of course what made them so damn good. In these sorts of situations, they had all the bargaining chips.

His free hand clasped both of Demoman’s wrists, pinching them together while the knife cut the bonds opened. He lifted his leg over Demoman's chest and slid off. With the Scot’s hands free, the Spy’s movements were much more cautious. With a hand on the other’s muscled legs, he freed his ankles.
“Now remember, Tomorrow at midnight. ”

Demoman grumbled a noncommittal response and sat up, rubbing his wrists. He was very tempted to retaliate against Spy, maybe tie him up and force some information out of him, but he had no means to do that with. He just wanted Spy out. "Leave."

“Oui,” he nodded, gently and he should have been grateful at the other’s nonviolence. But he was a Spy, he couldn’t leave well enough alone. In a short, lithe movement, he stepped to the side of the RED’s bed and took the explosive expert’s face in his hand. A lunge followed, removing the distance from the Demoman’s mouth and his own.

Demoman didn't even have a chance to react as those lips were pushed against his own. He started and pushed back, but they were persistent, finding their target and staying locked to it. He felt his stomach churn, and was about to force Spy back before the kiss ended, leaving him with a foul taste in his mouth. "Wha' the hell was that?!" he demanded to know.

“Au revoir, Demoman,” he retreated out of the man’s reach, giving a dismissive wave. The last bit of the man to be seen was a flash of pinstripe fabric, before the Spy had disappeared into the darkness of the quiet base.

found part 2!
The next day was not at all like its predecessor. Unlike the frenetic, unending fighting that marked yesterday on the battlefield, the next day way quiet, mostly uneventful, largely dictated by the enormous number of sentries BLU had on their territory. Demoman only ran into Soldier three times, and he only caughta single glimpse of Spy, who gave him a smile fitting of the Cheshire Cat before disappearing into the air. The brief encounter leftan unpleasant feeling in the Scot's stomach. It reminded him of last night, what happened, what he'd like to forget. But he can't forget. He walks right back into that unpleasant memory, at midnight that night, knowing this to be the only way he could get information about his former friend. It's a shit situation, he thought to himself as he trudged out behind the base, but it was what he had to deal with now. As soon as he finds the Spy, of course.

Even at the height of his professionalism, Spy found himself rather distracted during the day. It was covered by his team turtling itself, courtesy of their dutiful Engineer, but the slowed combat did not stop his thoughts from swirling, memories replaying and ideas forming. Oh, it was delightful, and tonight might prove to be even more fruitful.

The BLU arrived at the specified location ten minutes before midnight, pacing around visible but disappearing at any noise that sounded like footsteps. After two such misfires, definite sounds heralded his target’s arrival, and he cloaked himself.

Demoman kept checking his own back as he looked around the base. Just because he couldn't be seen didn't mean he wasn't there. Demoman wasn't about to be taken by surprise. "Oh, ah knoo how it is," he said aloud, so that Spy, wherever he was, could hear. "Yer gonna sneak up on meh, with yer pretty lil' knife near m'neck, so you can do what ye want, huh? Well, think again, ye no good lactatin' backstabbing creeper! I'm on to yeh." he held his grenade launcher at the ready and looked around in every direction. The mere memory of the night before was enough to keep him acute in that dark hour.

I object to lactating,” the enemy reappeared in a flush of blue mist, his arms raised and no weapons in hand, “The rest, I suppose, is fair.” He was smirking, broadly, much more comfortable looking than he was last night. “I see you’re armed this time.”

"I'm not about to let ye catch me off m'guard," Demoman said, turning and glaring at Spy. "And this way," he cocked the launcher at Spy, "Ah've got a bargainin' chip of m'own. That chip being not blowing you up if ye don't tell me what I want to know, spook."

The Spy resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “I will keep that in mind.” Eager to move along, the man continued, “Now, shall we get down to it? What were you told of Soldier’s… betrayal?”

"The lass who works for the announcer said he took the offer to kill me," Demoman said, relaxing his grip on the grenade launcher slightly. "Was she telling the truth?

“Yes, and no.” he replied, throwing his hands up in a loose gesture. “Look. I will tell you what I know about the Soldier’s deal. As for the price I mentioned… I am asking for ten minutes.”

"Ten minutes?" Demoman repeated. "Of what?"

The Spy’s chest lifted and fell with one slow, silent breath before he replied, “Of contact.”