Character Annihilation is a series of short stories based on the people of SPUF. Today’s story features Vintage Keith, or just Keith (whose tagline should be “My name is Keith. Vintage Keith”). Engineer enthusiast, builder of sentries, Shotgun terror and a somewhat rather unwilling Demoman.
Keith tapped his foot impatiently. Bastards. Bastards the lot of them. Making him wait around like this. Keith just wanted to dick around and have some fun, but no, he had to wait here, for further instructions. They were all bastards. Everyone’s a bastard. Why was he doing this again? Oh yeah, he signed up for it. Bastards.
Why was he waiting anyway? No one ever told him anything apart from a time and date. He’d turn up, fire a couple of grenades, die a lot, rinse and repeat. He often had to beg to not be Ubercharged. Kritzed. Whatever. It was a peer pressure thing. Being put on the spot and expected to kill people. With projectiles no less. If only Demoman had some sort of hitscan weapon. Like a shotgun. Soldier was always taken though. All the fun stuff was always taken. Or not allowed because they had to have a lame healing person on their team.
Keith was still waiting. He’d moved on from impatiently tapping his foot to idly playing with his grenade launcher. That was another question. Should he spam grenades or cannon balls? The others didn’t seem to mind either way. But double donks were so awesome.
They hadn’t turned up. Keith was sick of waiting. The enemy team was waiting in their base, if they even existed, and there were three control points between them. This place was stupid. Everything’s stupid.
“Fuck it. I’m going out there!”
Keith headed for the door, but hesitated. He paused and turned around, looking at the resupply cabinet.
“But not like this…”
He pranced over to the resupply cabinet and dropped his grenade launcher. He rummaged around for a bit, before pulling out a shotgun and a wrench. But it wasn’t quite good enough.
With a deep breath, Keith dived head first into the resupply cabinet, pulling out all sorts of weapons. Half a sentry. A Family Business. A Loose Cannon, a Wrangler, seven Sticky Bombs, a couple of hats. Once he’d gathered a collection of bits and pieces, he grabbed a welding mask and got to work.
With a smile creeping across his face, Keith was finally ready.
The other team were standing outside their spawn room, picking their noses and unsure what they were supposed to be doing. They never saw the sentry bombs flying towards them.