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No. 435
Every repost is a repost repost. By Mankip.

--

Blood.
So much blood.
Sweat pouring down his massive brow, he knew he must not stop.
Blood boiling, and every muscle in his large body screaming for him to rest, Heavy Weapons Guy pushed onward. This cart, the fun-wagon, had to reach its destination.
Heavy knew he was not an intelligent man. But he knew that when something was begun, you could not stop until it was through. So he pushed, through fire and blood, the waves of carnage threatening to overtake him all at once.
The others were dead. The gentle doctor had been shot through the heart with a stray arrow, up against the wall. His only companion and friend in this horrible war, gone in a split second.
As Heavy passed the first point, he saw Engineer, pinned down by what remained of his toppled sentry, and full of bullets.
"Need...some help here...", the man said, coughing up blood as he spoke.
Heavy shed a single tear, knowing that he could not stop to help his comrade. He would not be a credit to the team, not in that state.
This war was pointless, he thought.
It had to end. And if that meant forsaking everything he knew, by god, he would get this cart where it needed to be, and end it once and for all.
Most of the Reds were gone, too. The two that remained were babies, tending to their machines or crouched in a corner, gripping the stock of their rifle and praying that they wouldn't be seen, and that the other would take care of this determined giant.
Push the cart, Heavy said to himself.
Push the cart.
Rounding the corner on the tracks, he could see the final terminace.
The end of this.
Peace, at last.
Push little cart.
Off in the distance, the glint of a scope. Before Heavy could react, a crack like thunder, and a bullet grazed his ear, taking off the lobe.
An uproar of absolute bestial rage swallowed heavy. Unholstering his faithful weapon, he slammed against the cart with his back, firing at the coward.
"YOU! ALL OF YOU ARE DEAD!"
Off in the distance, he heard a scream, and knew that his bullets had not been outsmarted.
Exhausted, he dropped his weapon, pushing the only thing he could focus on anymore.
Feet away.
Inches away.
They killed the Doctor.
They killed the man in ski mask.
They will be dead.
The front end of the cart began to tip, as victory came so close. Heavy lifted the back end up, and the bomb spilled into the depths of Red Headquarters.
Slowly walking away, an explosion unseen since the times of creation filled his ears.
And he fell to his knees, and wept.
For Medic.
For little American man.
For Pyro.
For Sascha.
The blood on his hands the only burden he had to bear now, heavy stood on his feet, and reached into his pocket.
He removed a sandwich, packed for him by the doctor.
Unwrapping it, Heavy took a bite, grumbling with pleasure, the only pleasure he could feel after this bloodbath.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He took another bite.
"Om nom nom, nom nom."
He grinned, satisfied.
"GOOD TIMES!"
Marked for deletion (old)
>> No. 1354
I DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING
>> No. 1414
YES. YESSSS.


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