It is hard to believe that we are one vote and 260 reads away from reaching our goal. So if you guys could, vote, comment, share, and follow me to receive more content down the pipeline. Let's reach 10k reads and 300 votes by the end of the first month of the new year.
And with this chapter, a new story arc centered around the Team Fortress mercenaries begins. And yes, this is a near shot-for-shot replication of the SFM short by the same name that Valve uploaded.
Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I will see you all later!
Enjoy (•⩊ •)
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(Azazel's POV)
August 18th, 2023 ME
Our chapter begins on a desolate stretch of road nestled deep within the Outer Splatlands Desert. The midday sun beat down mercilessly, casting shimmering waves of heat that distorted the horizon. The only hint of civilization was a crushed Bonk! can, its metallic carcass illuminated by a gaudy brass flourish that had somehow landed smack in the middle of the road, as if trying to catch passersby's attention with a desperate flair.
Suddenly, chaos erupted: an armored truck skidded into view from the right, tires screeching in protest as it clumsily knocked the poor can aside as if it were made of paper. The truck's back end swung wide in a dramatic fishtail, commandeering the left lane and leaving a cloud of dust in its wake, while we ventured down the left side of the road in our own unique brand of vehicular chaos: a bouncing, rattling truck barely able to contain its occupants.
Inside the cab, the ambiance was something akin to a circus gone wrong. Scout was slumped over in the left seat, snoozing like a baby who just had his bottle, while Heavy sat erect at the wheel, his hulking frame casting a shadow that could probably block out the sun. I found myself wedged in the middle seat, flanked by the mercenaries who looked like they were auditioning for a role in a buddy cop film gone horribly off-script.
Azazel: Man, that could've gone better. But no, Soldier had to ruin it as usual. I knew we shouldn't have brought him along for the job.
Heavy: Told you.
We were on a secret mission for the Ministry of Justice, tasked with busting a notorious drug operation run by the Gokudou. And believe it or not, the job was a hit! Well, more like a "hit and a miss," thanks to Soldier, who couldn't keep his mouth shut even if it was glued shut. As the dashboard monitor began its soft beeping like a gentle heart monitor, signaling a potentially life-altering moment, I elbowed Scout sharply. He jerked awake, eyes wide, his first words a hilarious jumble like he was trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle in his half-awake haze.
Scout: Gwaa! Bwaa! What!? What? Oh.
With an exaggerated grogginess, Scout reached out with a hand that looked more like a flailing octopus than a mature mercenary and pressed a button on the monitor, which revealed the faces of Miss Pauling and Diana. The two women looked about as stressed as one could look while simultaneously maintaining perfect hairstyles—an impressive feat.
Diana: (Boys, this is Diana. Tell me you got the briefcase.)
Scout: Yeah, sure. *Scout responded, though his expression suggested he might've just found a lost sock at the bottom of his laundry basket*
Diana's eyes narrowed in a methodical manner.
Diana: (And nobody saw you?)
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