In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Four: Fuel to the Fire

        For good measure, I dump in some deceased bread cadavers so the coyotes will have more incentive to clean house. It's a bumpy ride, making my attempts at finalizing this job harder. Criticizing Heavy's driving would be fruitless as off-roading in a delivery van isn't the easiest thing to do, I'm sure.

I nick myself with the cigarette butt for the third time, zoning out of the pain as I sear away the prints on this hand. Demoman sits on the bench along for the ride, being my source of cigarettes as I don't smoke myself. I hand it back to him and have him take a few drags before giving it back to me to finish up the pinky of what I think is the scout's hand.

"Thank you," I hum, putting out the cigarette by rubbing it against some bloody flesh and dropping the hand back into the garbage bag. I place the butt into a separate bag filled with teeth that I'll incinerate with Pyro when it comes time to also dispose of my clothing. The van slows down, and Heavy opens the door that leads to the driver's seat.

"We are here."

"Lovely," I say, standing up and opening the back doors at the rear of the vehicle. It's pitch dark and the stars above make a dazzling showcase as there are no lights nearby to interrupt their display. Crickets silence themselves as I step out of the van. Demoman helps me drag out the three large trash bags that contain the scraps of our BLU guests. I grab the shovel I brought along and start digging in front of the van so the headlights can illuminate where my spade lands. I don't go too far down into the cracked sand, just about a foot or so, and make the length that of an average coffin. I drag the bags and open them up, dumping food particles and flesh into the holes to fill it up. It smells very unpleasant, like lard from meat that's been deep-fried in grease. Demoman idles by, observing my urgency and concise actions.

"Ye dae this often?" He asks while watching me spray cooking oil over the mound.

I light a match and throw it into the pit, watching the fire wave take over. I turn to look at him with the fire illuminating one side of my face. "If Miss Pauling mentioned that she was doing it, I'd come along for the ride."

"How?" He asks, and I twist my face.

"It's a necessary skill to learn," I start shoveling sand back over the hole as the meat and yeast have cooked enough to start smelling appealing to nearby scavengers. "Some people just have to disappear to make your life easier. In this case, I'm making life easier for you guys. You're not exactly a favorite with the locals."

"Lassie, we figured as much," he declares. "I just dinnae get how you're so comfortable with doing all of this."

I drive the spade into the ground and look over at him. "Aren't you comfortable blowing people up for a paycheck?" He remains silent and frowns with furrowed brows. "It's only a small portion of what my job entails, Demoman. You don't worry about what happens to them once they're dead, but I do. I have to. I'm the one who has to cover for you and make these guys untraceable."

We eye each other for a few moments until I start digging again, the sand putting out the fire. I'd really prefer it if he stopped talking. "Dinnae it bother you, lass? Erasing these men without a proper send off to their family?"

I pat the top of the sand. "No. I stopped caring." I wipe my forehead and feel blood smear onto it. "So has Miss Pauling. So should you."

He must've never thought about how Miss Pauling deals with it as he looks surprised that I even mentioned her. I sit up front next to Heavy, and Demoman sits in the back once again. I open the door behind me and ask him to close the bag of teeth in the event they spill over, his reluctancy showing as he tries to touch the bag as little as possible. It was a three-hour ride out, and I don't intend on being awake the entire time again because the disposal process has to be finished tonight.