modification in progress..

It’s then he hears footsteps, and he freezes, his ears and eyes alert for the source of the sound. The clone soon detects movement and frantically crawls underneath a nearby fallen log. He’s not taking any chances at this point, he needs to stay alive. Liam lies still, holding his breath as the steps gradually grow louder. He carefully pulls his pistol from his pocket, lifting his head up just slightly to have a look. What he finds…oh. Oh. OH. Hallelujah. It’s as if some sweet angel had heard his distress!! What luck! The bastard is literally yards away, oblivious and probably scared out of his mind. That Scattergun probably isn’t even loaded, the clone laughs to himself. Pepe is with him though, which could be a problem as he’s armed as well. Hmm. What to do. Two on one was not good odds. He needed Liam alone, he needed a way to separate them. Following them would prove too risky unless he really kept his distance. He could wait till night and kidnap him from wherever he’s hiding. Might backfire if they have other mercs keeping watch though.

Hmm.

Seemed his trick to get them out of the base worked like a charm. Perhaps sniping them here in the woods would make them scatter? He’d have to do it now before they get too far away. It was risky but dammit, he’s through with waiting.

Her hands still for a second. No. But… they’d wiped them all out last time, hadn’t they? And respawn had been fixed, right? No, not again…

Eventually, the flames lick too closely for her liking, and after barely dodging a second falling rafter, the spy finally fights her way toward some kind of exit, a heavy dread settling into her stomach.

The sound of gunfire exchange draws Diora’s attention to the side of base. It could be anyone shooting, really, but in a situation like this, it doesn’t really matter, does it? So she rushes toward the sound of gun report only to see Willie on the alert, shotgun aimed at… No one.*

This isn’t like battle, not at all, and there’s a certain horrible familiarity to it, something that makes her cradle her mechanical arm in her lap, clenching and un-clenching her fist. For several long moments all Willie can do is cower.

Liam makes sure he’s semi-hidden behind a pile of debris, aiming the gun Randy had given him in the general direction of whoever comes into view. Not so much to kill, maybe injure, but mostly to scare. 

Getting outside is only a small amount of comfort. She’s no longer worried about the building coming down around her, but now she can see that RED base was apparently struck too. This is looking less and less like some kind of accident.

And now, apparently, she’s being shot at. With a strangled cry, Willie drops herself behind a piece of fallen wall.

As the days have passed on Randall has been using his time well. Talking and organizing with the useful ones (and outright avoiding ones who aren’t) he’s been doing what he can to form some kind of plan. Give them some kind of chance. Because that’s what he’s suppose to do. That’s what leaders do. And who better than the man who knows betters? 

Still… it takes him a while to himself before stepping forward. Doing what he can to ignore the flight sensations. 

“Soooo… i’ it’s not too ‘lunt ‘or ‘e to say I huink hueve had enough time to lolly gag and sit on our asses! Hue kee’ talking a’out doing something and, yet, hue haven’t! And in the ‘ean time some of us are ‘eing wreckless,” He’d frown if he had fucking lips, “Thanks, ‘y the huay, to the rock throwers. That was considerate and completely incons’icuous. 

That aside… If hue’re actually going to do something it needs to ‘e done now. They’re ‘icking up on us. And from huat I’ve gathered ‘ost of us want the’ dead. 

*is going to casually ignore the comment on the rock throwing* 

Chase ‘hem? Uh… well, gosh, that sounds like it ‘ight get us killed to ‘e erfectly frank. I was thinking it huould ‘e wiser to catch them off guard. 

Yeah, that works too. *nods*

As the days have passed on Randall has been using his time well. Talking and organizing with the useful ones (and outright avoiding ones who aren’t) he’s been doing what he can to form some kind of plan. Give them some kind of chance. Because that’s what he’s suppose to do. That’s what leaders do. And who better than the man who knows betters? 

Still… it takes him a while to himself before stepping forward. Doing what he can to ignore the flight sensations. 

“Soooo… i’ it’s not too ‘lunt ‘or ‘e to say I huink hueve had enough time to lolly gag and sit on our asses! Hue kee’ talking a’out doing something and, yet, hue haven’t! And in the ‘ean time some of us are ‘eing wreckless,” He’d frown if he had fucking lips, “Thanks, ‘y the huay, to the rock throwers. That was considerate and completely incons’icuous. 

That aside… If hue’re actually going to do something it needs to ‘e done now. They’re ‘icking up on us. And from huat I’ve gathered ‘ost of us want the’ dead. 

*is going to casually ignore the comment on the rock throwing* 

José hears the screams from inside, at which he tilts his head bemusedly; he doesn’t understand, he hasn’t lit up the fire to clean the filthy men inside yet. Liam—this Liam, not the one that ran around BLU like he belonged there—was a filthy mess, all stitches and knives and terrifying attitudes, and José tended to stay away from him, usually. But now that he was here…Well, he could clean him up, along with the Medic, and the shed of corpses. Yes. Yes, he could do that, yes yes yes…

Another tin container of gasoline flies into the shed with the shatter of another window, and the grimy, wild-looking Pyro in his full and fully dirty uniform kicks the door to step inside with a gas canister and a box of matches.

“Uhv’nn’nh,” he nods in greeting, before unceremoniously tipping his canister with a kick. “Huh ‘rrh yuh duuhuhnnh tuhn’nnht.” 

He just wants a good look at his new friends before he cleans them, that’s all, and he might as well get to know them a little before he lights his matches. 

-Well, before a second can crashes through another window. The Scout feels an even greater sense of urgency, it’s only a matter of time before they’re both ablaze. No way in hell he’s dying here, his work isn’t finished yet. He approaches the body parts, shoving through them desperately to find any of his own. Nothing, no, no, nothing, goddammit.

Liam is startled by the door banging into the shed wall, he spins around to face the arsonist standing in the doorway. José. Jesus Christ, he should’ve known; he’s got vague memories of this one, the Liam on base admired him…probably wouldn’t admire this unstable, “holy and righteous” nutjob. Like Liam’s one to call other people nutjobs, but the Pyro..he really was a fuckin’ weirdo. Playing with his lighter, muttering about purification. For someone who suffered most of his skin burned off, he liked to steer clear of the Pyros, especially this one. Honestly, the clone is feeling a little unnerved with José standing there; once the canister of gas begins pouring all over the floor, he’s a mixture of irritation and panic. 

“You goddamned sonuvabitch! Can’t even let me swipe good tools without bargin’ in with your cleansin’ bullshit! Just couldn’t wait, could you?!” Then the realization hits him, and a phantom of fear grows on his already twisted features. 

If he knew what drove him, Heinrich might agree with the pyro. That is, if he wasn’t more of the type to practice love the sinner not the sin. He could adopt a philosophy of cleansing holy fire if only he wasn’t about survival. If only he wasn’t guilty himself. It wasn’t the first time someone had judged him as filth, needing purification, needing to be saved in some way. It was always in adamant violence, be it beatings, electrocution, or fire. 

Unfortunately, the medic didn’t have the luxury to be analyzing the philosophical reasons for this attack.

As the clone is frantically analyzing his situation, he notices the Medic bolt for the door, easily shoving José aside, surprisingly. Perhaps the Pyro wasn't expecting him to run towards the door, as he's clearly shown he plans to kill them. For an old Medic, the guy had some balls. 

Well, there's no way Liam is going to let this nutjob intimidate him after Heinz has managed to escape. Unfortunately, gathering important tools wasn't worth the risk anymore. With the only materials around him, the clone quickly grabs a bloody saw and chucks it at the Pyro. He doesn't care whether it hits him or not, all he needs is something to distract his attention for just a split second so he too, can get the hell out of that death trap. 

*He looks up quickly. Getting far enough into the base to actually get to the workshops, maybe even the weapons stores… it’s practically impossible for him. He’s had to struggle to keep it together on his short forages in the garage, being even that close to the life he lost. But if he had one of his old fuel tanks… the damage he could do…

He says nothing, though. Just closes his bag, standing with a shrug.*

*Liam would rather not carry them out on his own, for the sheer weight of them and his general discomfort around flammable things* 

No idea. If we fuck it up enough on their end, though, maybe that’ll do it.

*Honestly, there are a few people he wouldn’t mind killing repeatedly, if he has to. As long as they eventually die for good. Dragging them outside of respawn range will do it, in a pinch.*

So long's everyone's up fer this. No one out to fuck shit up fer their own business.  Fuckin' Jose tried to burn me alive the othah day, I should just kill that asshole myself. I don't think he even knows half of what the fuck's goin on around him. 

*glances around, suddenly paranoid the object of his discussion was nearby* Hmph.

*He looks up quickly. Getting far enough into the base to actually get to the workshops, maybe even the weapons stores… it’s practically impossible for him. He’s had to struggle to keep it together on his short forages in the garage, being even that close to the life he lost. But if he had one of his old fuel tanks… the damage he could do…

He says nothing, though. Just closes his bag, standing with a shrug.*

*Liam would rather not carry them out on his own, for the sheer weight of them and his general discomfort around flammable things* 

*he gives the items a once over, about to tell this guy to piss off till he notices the switchblade. He picks it up, flipping the blade out to inspect it. Looked to be in pretty good condition; his own knife was getting fairly dull from use.* 

Alright. 

He glances up at Liam.*