Chapter Text
“The switch is now on OFF.” Though the darkness was expansive, the Batter’s words did not echo. In fact, the black void seemed to have the opposite effect, making each word seem clipped as it absorbed the sound into its vast emptiness. All was silent for a long time, the world once teeming with its own little kind of life converted into lightless nothingness. Gone were the carefully crafted islands of metal, gone were the vast oceans of plastic, gone were the wheezing citizens subsiding on meat and smoke. More importantly, gone were the corrupt. The spectres, the guardians, the queen, the little boy. Nothing remained. Everything was orderly, everything was pure. The Batter’s job was done. So why was he still here? The pale humanoid stood ramrod straight, deathly still. Not even the shallowest of breaths filled his chest. He didn’t really need to breathe. Not here.
The Batter’s statue-like appearance was only broken when he heard a faint whispering. It only lasted a second, but it was distinct enough to not be dismissed as a simple trick of the mind. He took a single step forward. It felt strange, somewhat solemn, moving without the influence of the Player, who he could feel was gone. They must have left with the rest of the world, their job complete. Regardless, nothing new happened with that stride. There was simply blackness.
After what could have been days, or just mere minutes, the Batter detected something that sounded like his own voice cutting through the oppressive void. It started as incomprehensible, muffled whispering like the rest, but became clearer by the second.
“Are you satisfied?”
“You could have tried harder.”
“Why did you kill them?”
“There was another way.” Each sentence came from a new direction, as if he was being spoken to by a pack of beings circling around him. This was wrong. There used to be whispers in the Nothingness, back when the world was still ON, but nothing was supposed to exist anymore. The Batter himself wasn’t supposed to exist. He had flipped the switch, there shouldn’t have been anything left. Ignorant to his dilemma, the whispering continued, eerily mimicking his own low, emotionless monotone. As the sound crescendoed, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. A flash of white, gone when he turned his head. He peered into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever creature dared show its face.
“Show yourself,” he paused for a moment before adding “...spectre.” The Batter wasn’t entirely sure what this new arrival was, but it was likely not benign. If it could exist past the flipping of the switch, it was bound to be a dangerous foe.
“I am no spectre,” it replied, still using the Batter’s voice. Unlike the baseball-uniformed man, however, its words were dripping with contempt. The emotion in each word was shocking, sounding wrong through the voice it was carried by. The Batter raised his bat, readying for battle. His Add-ons blinked into view, humming quietly as they floated beside him. He hadn’t realized they had come with him as well. Another strange quirk, but a welcome one, at least until he could eradicate this mysterious entity. Those perplexing halos of light were always useful in a fight.
“Show yourself,” he repeated. This garnered no response, and even the idle whispering grew quiet. There was no more errant movement, no scraps of sound slicing through the darkness. Gradually, the Batter lowered his guard as the black void returned to its original state. His bat tapped the ‘ground’ soundlessly and he was motionless once again as he pondered the bizarre occurrence.
Time was an odd thing in this half-existence. In a featureless plane containing nothing but the Batter himself, it was difficult to judge how much time had passed- if it even passed at all. All the Batter knew was that it seemed to have been a while by the time he noticed a new disturbance. This time, it was a familiar green splatter in the distance. With nothing else to do, he walked to it. The faded red dot in the center seemed much brighter against the pure black surroundings. The Batter confidently placed a foot on it, expecting to be informed of where the point led. It was identical to the pathways he used in the old world, so he assumed that it would work the same here. How wrong he was. With a familiar whooshing sound, he was treated to a not-so-familiar sensation of being wrenched off his feet and violently pulled into the point. Blinding, pure white filled his vision for a brief moment, then it all went away.
Yelling and gunshots rang out in the desolate badlands of New Mexico. The dehydrated surroundings shook and crumbled at the abuse of seemingly infinite quantities of bullets and explosives. The few scraps of plant life that had weaseled up through the cracked ground were, without fail, trampled or incinerated, a casualty in the endless war for gravel. Nearly every day, two groups of mercenaries faced up against each other. No matter how many times they were struck down, they always came back to fight another round. No matter how many battles were won, the conflict was trapped in a stalemate.
This particular afternoon, the clash was nearing its end. The team working for Reliable Excavation Demolition was chasing down the last few members of Builders League United. Some of them simply fled while some launched a last round of projectiles before being dragged along by a teammate or reduced to a bloody mess by the opposition. As the last bits of bloodstained blue clothing disappeared from view, the RED team cheered- a cacophony of nine distinctive voices each battling for dominance.
“WOO! Didja see dat, though? I totally just DESTROYED that Heavy!” the youngest member yelled as the general excitement died down. No one cared to bother telling the Scout that his opponent was already riddled with someone else’s bullets and that he had merely run in and stole the killing blow. The team had learned that trying to battle his ego typically ended up making things worse. Despite this, everyone was generally in good spirits. The self-proclaimed ‘black Scottish cyclops’ raised his bottle to his mouth, only to react with disappointment upon noticing that it was empty. A quick look around revealed a multitude of discarded bottles around the battleground, all empty as well.
“Huh. So that’s where me spares went. Ugh... I gotta go get me more’o this... I’m headin’ back in!” the Demoman announced as he tossed the remains of his last beer to the side. It shattered as it hit a particularly sharp rock. Usually, the thick walls could handle that kind of shock, but the time he spent beating people's heads in with it understandably put unprecedented strain on the material. It added a few more shards to the near-permanent sprinkling of broken glass and bullet casings. The one-eyed alcoholic stepped on a whirring teleporter, well-accustomed to the crimson whirlwind of parts. With a soft whoosh, he disappeared in a mist of glowing particles, back to the RED base that was no more than twenty feet away.
“I will never understand that man’s obsession,” the Spy muttered, flicking away his cigarette and immediately lighting another one. The irony was not lost on the hard-hatted Engineer, who bit back a snicker. “At any rate, does anyone here think the fact that those BLU idiots managed to find our, might I remind you, secret base for a third time might be a problem?” For two of the remaining team members, namely the Scout and the Soldier, this concept seemed to be a bit difficult to grasp. Each wore a puzzled expression, their sparse brain cells working overtime to find the issue. A third wasn’t even paying attention. In fact, the mysterious person in a baggy asbestos-lined suit was facing the wrong direction, looking bored. He- if the thing inside even was a man- hefted his flamethrower and hopped onto the teleporter that the Demoman took. With a shortage of enemies to slaughter, the Pyro now wished to spend his time setting things on fire rather than listen to his teammates yammer on. The Spy sighed, a steely look of frustration on his face. The skin-tight balaclava he wore did nothing to hide his derisive look, especially since he had a couple of larger than normal holes for his mouth and eyes. Before he could make any snide comments, however, the largest man in the group spoke up.
“Heavy does not think it matters. We still crush them, yes?” he noted with broken, yet purposeful English. “Secret or not secret, we win.”
“Good point, fatty. If you guys are done, I’mma go join Demo.” Without waiting for an answer, Scout spun around and left, also bypassing the ridiculously short distance to the base with the whirring teleporter.
“Yeah, true, but without a base of operations o’ sorts- that the enemy doesn’t know about, mind you, we ain’t got anywhere ta go and resupply if we need to retreat. We'll be fish in-” The Engineer was interrupted by a certain psychotic patriot. The rough, loud voice contrasted harshly with Engie’s calm Texan drawl.
“That is EASY! We do not RETREAT! And I do NOT want to hear any more talk of that RETREATING business from you, son, DO YOU HEAR ME?” the Soldier yelled, getting so close that the Engineer had to flinch back to avoid being hit by the flying spittle. A man in a white, albeit bloodstained coat stepped in before it could escalate and waved his gloved hands dismissively.
“Yes, Herr Soldier, ve get it. America, America, fighting, fighting. Zhe truth is, ve're going to have to move again and I vould like to pack up my experiments so ve don’t have a repeat of last time’s incident .” Everyone was silent as they relived the horror of that one fateful drive. The Sniper, usually a quieter person, was the first to resume the conversation.
“Doc, if you ever let those bloody abominations out in my camper again, I will line up all your pretty little doves, shoot ‘em one by one, then make ya use their corpses t’ mop up the blood or vomit or whatever the hell those things spat out.” he growled, venom in his words. The mad doctor let out a few nervous laughs before backing up and teleporting away in a flash of red sparks. The Spy let out his second, and probably not final sigh of the hour.
“The doctor is right, we should all prepare to move again. I’m sure the Administrator has already found a suitable location.” He brushed the remaining dust off his suit and, like all the others, teleported into the base. Sniper, Soldier, and Heavy followed along, Sniper muttering something about his camper van. The Engineer went through last, and the door to the building, still only twenty feet away, remained forgotten.
Everyone had dispersed by the time the resident Texan genius had arrived in the main room. The Soldier was joining Demoman and Scout, who both sat at a flimsy table next to the fridge. The whole ‘pack up’ ordeal had predictably slipped his mind. The Medic was nowhere to be seen, though some rather concerning squelching sounds were coming from his lab. The Sniper had likely retreated into his van and the Spy was elusive as always. The Heavy and the Pyro were the closest, the former gently packing his giant miniguns into a stack of crates while the latter was sitting behind a pile of burning magazines. Engineer pulled out his PDA to shut off the teleporter in case that BLU Spy got any funny ideas. However, no matter how many times he pressed the button, it stayed rotating and active. The words ‘ERROR: IN USE. SOURCE: UNKNOWN’ flashed across the screen, obscuring the usual view.
“What in the... Guys? Y’all might wanna see this,” he yelled. Before he could even begin to puzzle out the rare error message he really only used as a safeguard for for the longer duration, long-distance teleports, the machine began to spin faster. Heavy went to find Medic and Sniper, but Demoman, Scout, and Soldier were still missing, forcing the Engineer to step over. “Quit your drinkin’, boys, we’ve got a situation here!” After a few slurred objections from Demo, they eventually made their way over. Soon enough, the entire team was assembled around the crouched Engineer, watching the teleporter with varying degrees of interest. It was somehow still speeding up, whirring along at a pace that could probably cut off a limb if someone got close enough. The machinery was shaking violently, emitting an awful clattering sound that made the Engineer cringe.
“So, what’s da big deal ‘ere?” the Scout asked, shuffling from foot to foot impatiently.
“You may be fast on your feet, but your brain is another matter,” the Spy snarked. “Obviously, there’s something wrong with the teleporter.” He motioned to the shaking contraption with one gloved hand.
“Yup. The thing’s apparently connected to some kinda ‘unknown source’ and I can’t shut it down,” Engineer elaborated.
“Unknown thing could come through from strange place? This is no good.” The Heavy took a lumbering step closer, glaring at the rapidly spinning mechanism. He cracked his knuckles, looking half-ready to smash the thing into pieces. A couple of the mercenaries muttered in agreement, though the Medic looked rather excited.
“I vonder, what kind of zhing could somehow access and exploit our teleportation grid like this? Ooh! Vhat if it's not human?” he suggested, his voice full of twisted exhilaration at the thought of the experiments he might be able to perform.
“I doubt it’s anything serious,” The Spy scoffed, rolling his eyes. It was probably some glitch the laborer had yet to iron out. He remembered how rocky the technology was during its development, there was only so much an American redneck could scrap together.
“Odds are it’s one o’ them BLUs,” Sniper muttered. A couple of the mercs started at his sudden appearance. He was almost like Spy in that way, able to appear out of nowhere- though anyone bold enough to say it in front of either of them might earn a bullet to the brains or a knife to their backs.
The conversation was cut short as a loud VWOONG noise came from the teleporter, quickly overtaken by a louder explosion. It was accompanied by three rings of bright light that quickly dispersed upward and faded. The Engineer rapidly stumbled back to get out of the way, the others following suit. They all tensed up, getting in various defensive positions- the Scout rather clumsily, punctuated with a loud “WHOAH-WHOAH-WHOAH!” Shards of the teleporter flew everywhere, scraps of now-useless metal launched across the room. One hit the Soldier’s helmet, sending him staggering and swearing before he tripped on the same piece that hit him and fell to the ground. There was a loud clang as his ill-fitting helmet slammed into his skull, a sound that would have been concerning if the man hadn’t walked away from instances of more egregious brain damage before.
As the temporary blindness from the light rings faded away, a single figure was revealed. It looked almost like a person- but not quite. It was entirely pale white, for one. Barring the coloring, there was something about the way it held itself that suggested a certain inhumanity. It stood completely still, as if it was made of stone. A black hat hid any facial features that would have been visible from the angle its head was hanging. It wore what looked to be a pure white baseball uniform and held an unmarked, similarly white baseball bat in one hand. The Scout, thrusting one demanding finger towards the offendinding intruder, eloquently expressed what the other mercenaries were thinking in their shocked silence.
“Who da heck is dat?”
