The alarm bell clamored throughout the entire BLU base. It wasn't a RED Spy like the last time (we all know how well THAT went), but a caravan of three RED Scouts were running in, hooting and hollering. They thought they were hot shit, confident that their trio could swarm around anything that tried to stand in their way.
And they might have been right: any living thing that blocked them was greeted by a swift death via a flurry of bats. Unfortunately for them, our Engi's fully upgraded Sentry isn't phased by aluminum sport equipment.
I sit in the corner, back against a wall (someone's gotta show the team proper Spy prevention protocol), and wait for the little bunnies to hop right into our Sentry's killing zone.
"Let's go, let's go, let's go! Woohoohoo!" shouts one of them as he comes in from around a corner. The Sentry lets out a shrill chirp as it spots him, then proceeds to turn him into Scout-flavored swiss cheese.
His two living fellow Scouts become aware of the mechanized threat, and go quiet. One of our Pyros, crouched next to me in wait, gets up to rush around the corner before I can stop him... her... it.
"Huddah hudah!" it shouts in muffled excitement, jumping down from our ledge and running around the corner. Medic-tan was healing it, and she obediently follows the Pyro into the unknown, perhaps rightfully worried about its brash nature.
"Bloody hell," I mutter and chase after her. As I round the corner, I can feel the surge of heat emanating from the flames that Pyro is throwing about. The two Scouts keep out of the flamethrower's reach, although one of them has been ignited.
He takes out his bat, but it's surprisingly on fire. Suddenly, I realize it's because he's wielding the wooden Sandman. With a crisp crack, he sends a baseball flying and scores a hit on Pyro's masked face.
The blow causes Pyro to drop its flamethrower, putting a stop to the fierce blaze. Before Pyro can recover, both Scouts let loose with scattergun blasts. Medic-tan cries out as Pyro falls dead to the ground, and the Scouts notice us.
The flaming Scout leaps at her, but I charge in with my Targe shield, brandish my Eyelander, and use the cursed blade to cleave his burning head clean off. His roasted body keeps sailing forward and slams into the wall behind us. Quickly, I pull out my grenade launcher and send a volley of explosives at the last Scout. He evades the bombs, a can of Bonk in his hand. Taking a quick swig of the drink, he turns around and zips away.
"Moron~!" he jeers as he heads down a tunnel to escape. Medic-tan fires off a swarm of needles after him, but he effortlessly dodges them thanks to his Bonk buzz. We watch him run down the long tunnel, our weapons unable to reach him at this range.
He knows this, and glances back toward us, a triumphant grin on his face. He pants heavily as he slows down, the sugar rush wearing off. Taking out his gun, he takes advantage of the distance to taunt us.
"That's what I'm talkin' about!" yells the Scout as he slaps his rear in the imitation of a racehorse.
Unknown to him, Heavy-tan comes trudging up behind his back. The Scout turns swiftly around, but slams into (or perhaps bounces off?) her large chest.
He stumbles back and looks up; the last thing he sees is a giant gloved fist rocketing toward him. Heavy-tan's fist collides into his face with the force of a Well train, caving in his skull and piercing his brain with his own eyeballs.
"You are not so good as you think!" she crows, then laughs over his dead body.