Writing Contest Entry

Pyro

A hazy beat, like a drum seamed to move Pyro’s hands in the dream, his life reduced to a strange, cold world. No Baloonicorn, or tiny flying baby men, or magical warm rainbow bubbles. Just, an odd warm feeling, an almost wicked sensation as words slipped in and out. “Handle, orb, crystal, build, stay. Handle, orb, crystal, build, stay. Handle, orb, crystal, build, stay.” Within moments into the dream, the last phrase was uttered and again. The Pyro followed his dream. “Forget.”

The air beats still as the gas hisses a piercing cry. The pyro, maniac of the TF Team, wakes to the sight of cold. Frost, a traitorous, smothering frost that encases all joy in replace of toxic emptiness. Looking to his flamethrower, he instead finds a rather odd looking stick. The shaft, a firm charcoal colored Oak, leads into a glassy resin orb that is impaled by two separate handles, one a mauve crystal, the other, a firm obsidian. Taking the odd handles, even through the flame retardant  suit, the shock was a corrosive foam against his nerves. His instinct taking over as he ran, only to find himself back where he started, so he ran again.... And again, and again, each time the fury building and bubbling as he let out a raging, pulsing scream ! Fear to anger, rage to fire one could say as the Pyro grasped the resin orb, mimicking soldier as a large beam of furious light burned into the snow, BURN, BURN he thought as he danced and screamed and sang. The cold, bleak snow fading and growing into a fuzzy reminder of what he shed as he left the world in a blanket of beauty, of glorious, free, FIRE ! Cackling like a maddened force of nature, the Pyro left the Rainbow Tundra, in a chase for what he could practically feel. A natural tendency, a primal sense of direction that even now would not leave him. Now, where's the French Fry ?

Heavy

Doctor is gone. Whatever is happening is magic. And stupid babies will need help. These were apparent as the heavy walked along the frozen woodland. He had found a huge clearing of flame, a massive pillar that he thought most to all the mercs would see. He was sure. He had already eaten his Sandvich, and hiked miles on miles of frozen death. But, nothing, nothing survived. No life around, only the mountain that was so intolerable to climb... Just like home he thought, but even he needed supplies, clothing made for heat, pre-warming, actual gear. Not- (Snap, Crunch) "Who- AHHHHHHHHHHH"

Soldier

Damn fascists, they thought they could take me out. "No, I am AMERICAN, AND THESE COLORS DON'T, ah... Ah... Aphlooo ! Run..." Hugh, boot camp was harder than this maggot, don't be some un-american, flag burning, PANSY ! No sir, I am not a flag burning pansy, but, WHAT DID I SAY MAGGOT ! Right sir, I am no flag burning pansy, sir. THEN I WANT TO SEE TWENTY MILES, NOW ! Sir yes sir. Hut two three four, hut two three four, hut two three-

Medic

"So, in our current predicament, we have no food, exzept beer, and bacon... And no idea of where we are. And, since the evident explosion, we were obviously wrong in our calculations." The currently shivering engineer nodded in agreement. "And zince we were the only ones in the Wrangler's protective bubble, it is likely that zey are either dead or dying as of now." The engineer again nodded, fiddling with a broken dispenser. "Zo, any explanations az to how we arrived in zis predicament ?" The engineer seemed to open his chapped and bitten lips as just as soon, he closed them in a guilty manner.

"Zo, how vill ve find anyo- Spy ?" With a sputter and spark, the slashed dead ringer fell out of his hands. The spy beaten and bruised as his suit had mostly been torn and, burned ? "Spy, vhat happened ?" With a gasp, the natural cool accent of the spy was now sudden and desperate gasps for bloody air from bashed lungs under broken ribs. "The pyro, he, he went insane. Someone gave him a gun, l-like a laser, he decimated everything near me. EVERYTHING, I only survived from my feigning death, and even then... I think somethings wrong with him, more than usual. He tracked me with his eyes, empty, raging eyes. And his muffles sounded, on edge, like he was speaking through knives and thorns." Both the medic and the Engie trembled as a blast rocketed through the trees and Earth. The spy was the first, despite his condition to start running. "Mother of god he's coming !" Both the medic and the Engie followed suit as the sounds of screaming were met by a resounding clap of force, sending a shockwave of energy through out the area. With a roar of snow and dirt, the party were found by a ghastly machination of English lore.

Sniper

Looking through a makeshift scope, the Aussie could perfectly scan the area. The scope was made from : several thin strips of cloth, which tied together compound hollow tube of wood , that wood laced with a sticky pine resin which held his glasses in a sloppy circle. Good enough, he thought as he ed Demo dragging him into the base on Nucleus, some invention to do with some English Poetry.  A painful migraine set in as again, the Aussie noticed the world shift yet again. This place, it's unnatural. Fake, artificial. Sighing, the Sniper found himself suddenly on the ground, a ringing pulsating through him as cold death stared him in the face. With a wipe from his dry, gloved hand, the crunching gravel called ice subsided.

Frantically equipping his scope, he saw what looked like a human aggressively posing with… PYRO ! What the hell ? Spotting away, the sniper noticed movement in the treeline. Quickly scoping it down, SOLDIER ! What the hell’s going on here ? With a shout, he was scalding hot on the side. His skin sizzling and peeling as he screamed out in agony. The bloody hell, how did he… “AHHGGGGHHH !”

Soldier

Hut two three four hut two three four… ‘TENTION ! The soldier, merely a foot away from death, was left in confusion as the Demo spouted off angrily at his teammates whilst engulfed in a righteous fire. The Doc, Engie and that Frenchie are all cowering in his wake. What cowardly maggots ! “LISTEN HERE YOU LILLY PICKIN’ MAGGOTS, I AM NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES, ESPECIALLY MOJANG, THAT CHINESE DEVIL-CRAFT ! I NEED ALL OF YOU HERE ON THE DOUBLE !” The Demo, was odd. He didn’t look drunk, but he wasn’t sober. His eyes, yes eyes, were both bright orange and blue… “You… You are no commander o’ my country, nor are ye’ a Scott’...” Looking over to the Pyro, his form fidgeting in somehow a more unhinged form than before. “T’at beast, it carries a piece o’ me. T’is my world, my fable ye’ have wandered onto. I have returned all useless ones to their world. Your fate, is not mine t’ decide. He is possessed and yet, so is me piece. T’is a rare meetin’ when a creature can overpower even my influence, much more so, a book. But, t’is a burden on both of us. His mind is notin’ in the state he’s in. Just a flesh puppet of its desires, and mine. Dyrnwyn, the sword of the great Rhydderch Hael, of the Welsh, t’is mine name. My story has long been over, my flames of righteousness embers in the tale o’er hundreds of years. Yet, ye’ being me back. Wit’ dat Bombinomicon… He did somtin’, sometin’ that broke off me tip, warped me details, and sent you all here. That piece, is the only page of that bloody book, and the last bit of sword me. Kill it, break it hidden in the resin. And I personally shall send your friend, and you fortwit’ to your abode.” The soldier blankly stared, the medic still chilled, covered in snow, and yet he didn’t feel any of the cold.

Medic

He was numb, shocked and frozen. They never thought that… They were… But what did they expect, take the charred bits of the Bombinomicon after killing Merasmus, yet again, and use it to solve Merasmus. To trap him, make him a prisoner of some mystical reality. No more senseless boss fights, no more returning dead, no more forced freebies of inconvenience. Just, done… Soldier was still dumbfounded as medic felt something inside him that rushed his brain, and propelled him into the soldier’s jacket, grip onto it and just shout. They didn’t have respawn, or magic books, or anything. They had to fight in this Welsh legend’s broken story world they created, or die… Not respawn, not wait for the reviving box for someone to heal them back… DEAD. With tears in his eyes, the mad doctor shrieked like he knew only the soldier could understand. “LIZTEN YOU VORTHLESS SHIEZNDHUND ! PERK UP, ZFIND YOUR ZTRENGTH AND FIGHT THAT MAGGOT COMMIE USING YOUR AMERICAN TEAMMATE. FOR ZE LOVE OF GOD, FIGHT ZOLDIER !” With that, Medic could almost see the soldier pick apart his shrieks, in fact, Medic could almost hear the alarms going off as the Soldier leapt after the pyro, tearing off his clothes and somehow slathering himself in honey. (Check Naked Tales of Valor #1-37 for an explanation.)

Soldier

“COMMIE ! YOU UNPATRIOTIC, GULAG MAKING, LAST IN PLACE MAGGOT !” The pyro flinched, a sound unearthly echoed as he blasted the soldier right through the face… Then through the shoulder… Then through the chest… “I’M 100% AMERICAN YOUR COMMIE BLASTS WON’T MAKE THESE COLORS RUN !” The possessed Demo, sliding over asked the Medic how he was even alive. The medic, laughing and smiling evilly, as he does, told him the only thing he could. “I your legend now, it had to do with righteous flames yeah, none believes himzelf more righteous zhan zoldier. The honey, he just seems to have that hidden in a place I refuse to look for.” With that, the soldier took a ball of honeyed snow, and slammed it into the Pyro’s facemask, cracking the glass, he tried his trademark move. “NECKSNAP !” Twisting the rubbery bits of the mask far beyond human limitations, the Soldier never heard the snap ? Like a broken string, the Pyro slammed the soldier down, gappling and mounting his stomach before readying the orb and- Crack - The orb went down against his face. And the orb cracked ! “100% American skull sweetheart, 90% Lead !” The Soldier flipped over the now dazed Pyro, the flames leaking out of the orb as the Soldier began to pumble the Pyro. “I swear to EAGLE JESUS, YOU, WILL, NOT, BE, A, COMMIE !” The orb screamed out to the pyro, a shrill cry. The wild hisses and cracks of the orb sent the sword bit flying out into the air. “Hr ?” The soldier, still punching the Pyro, finally stopped to take a breath, as a small glowing stone shard burned into the snow beside him. “Huh !” In a wild inferno of fire, the soldier and pyro were lost in the blaze.

Pyro

The fire, it was cold, heartless, dead. It doesn’t have rainbows, it doesn’t deserve to make smiles. With the world burning around them, the Pyro unfolded his smearing rubber arms over soldier, the world half cold and colorless, and the other half joyous and fun. Why does it hurt so much ?

With a fresh wave of fire, all was colorful again, his team all there, he thinks, their blurry smiling comforting in their brief seconds between the fading tiny child-like laugh… So… Pretty… All the team… “HRAA, HRAA, HRAA…” Why… Does it hurt…. Team…

“Medic !” Medic…. Please… Medic… Why...

#teamwriting4