Still Alive

It was then I realised I was going to have to survive this adventure.

I was recently assigned to RED as the editor. Despite being a paid mercenary, it is understandable that I’m stuck behind security screens. I simply want to get into the battle and tear BLU apart.

I love working here, although I am forced. As a child, I was deposited into an asylum once my family discovered I was schizophrenic. They tried their best to resolve my disorder, going as far as to grant me management of an art business. In the end, my status was irreversible, resorting to RED.

I remember a discussion outside of my cell the night before I turned sixteen. Something about someone named “Isaac” being assigned to the opposite team.

Alert sirens rang as intruders flooded the corridor. My eyes were fixed to the security cameras, watching the war take to our base.

“Zis is Scout! Rainbows make me cry!”

 

I cut to the intelligence, where a Spy is stood towering over the dead body of Scout. The cameras show the horrific massacre of my team. Snipers and Engineers being backstabbed by a group of BLU Spies, a Heavy and Medic combination tearing through our defence, not to mention constant explosions thanks to a brigade of Soldiers raining rockets upon us. Flames spew across the confined corridor as our Pyromaniac engages in combat, but is shortly murdered due to the Demoman’s grenade launcher.

Barely anyone on RED is alive, as corpses litter the building. Only a near-death Heavy is defending the entrance to where our intelligence lies. Blood-curdling screams emit from the hallways behind me, belonging to the Russian as he is brutally stabbed to death by an enemy Spy.

I sit in silence, waiting for the announcer’s voice.

“Your friends are all dead.”

I journey down the hallway to where the enemy lies, my keyboard grasped with both hands. Maniacal laughter emits from the German doctor belonging to the opposite team, they’re probably celebrating their victory. The jungle of voices and accents lead me to where the intelligence lies.

Peeking around the corner, I notice a sentry gun blocking my view. I can easily over-ride its hard drive with my iHoney StarPad, which I do without hesitation. Replacing Keyan the Keyboard with my hacking device, he is placed in his neutral position – strapped to my back. Momentarily after beginning the procedure, a cry of anguish is released from the Texan, followed by the chorus of chortles eventually dying down.

“There’s a Spah creeping around here!”

 

With the sentry destroyed, I can see clearly into the Intel room now. A Scout is sitting on the intelligence, with a Spy leaning into the desk, casually smoking a cigarette. A Sniper jumps from the table that he was sat on; reaching for the machete he carries in his belt, but is instantly stopped by a “New” class, I would guess, as I haven’t seen him around Tuefort before. The voice is familiar, though…

“There’s no spies alive on the Death-Log, Engie.

Although there’s still an Editor.”

 

My focus is brought back to the situation as a bullet races past me, only to find the Soldier wielding a shotgun crazily. A collection of stares gathers towards me. I grasp Keyan and sprint towards the enemies. Swinging him about wildly, the massacre begins. I manage a few kills with the keyboard until my grip loosens, so I take advantage of the situation and launch it towards the Medic, the impact killing him. Distraught, the Heavy Weapons Professional charges at me with bare hands and holds me against the wall tightly. I feel for my belt – which is hidden under my shirt – and retrieve the tennis racket I acquired from school. I deliver a blow across the Heavy’s face, seconds before he would’ve done to me. He stumbles slightly from the force, and I manage to wedge the racket in his back.

I spot the Engineer placing a toolbox to construct a sentry, which I grab and shatter several bones with. Metal saws my flesh away from the bone in agonising pain. I turn to face a smug-looking Sniper hacking away at my arm, spurting blood everywhere. Using my free arm, I push the Sniper away, his machete still in my arm. While he regains his balance, I yank the blade out of my arm and launch it towards him, piercing his heart. I rest momentarily.

“Forgetting someone, Isabel?”

 

Who was that? How do they know my name? Pondering that was out of the question as an arrow slides into my back. I turn to face the hooded figure, armed with a bow, painted sleek black with flame effects, similar to the design a customer commissioned frequently in my previous business.

My mind keeps drifting when my sight is filled with the class stood infront of me. As he knocks an arrow, I feel my pockets for any weapons, but it appears I lack any.

Before I realise, the arrow is flying towards me. Despite limited movement thanks to an arrow already in my back, I dodge out of the way. While the figure reaches for another arrow, I retrieve the bloodied machete from the Sniper’s corpse. Before he has a chance to knock the arrow, I lunge at him, machete in hands. Tearing through his chest, the body falls to the floor.

Curiosity washes over me. I can’t help but pull the hood up. Upon revealing his identity, I can’t believe who he was.

I just murdered my brother.