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Don’t talk to me about the horror of war, boy. Ya ain’t been around long enough to know what true horror really is, tch you think an uberheavy is bad, boy ya ain’t seen nothin’. I’ve been around, served a tour on each map, defended points against innumerable odds, captured more intel than the enemy knew they had. Talkin’ ta me about war, huh? I’ve seen free weekends after an update, medics not knowing how to use an ubercharge, the worst attempts at rocket jumping ya have ever seen. Ya don’t know nothin’ ’bout war ’till you been toe to toe with a ‘eavy with boxing gloves, wit’ nothin’ but you and yer shovel, while snipers pepper the ground wit’ gunfire. Or a faced a true scout rush.

No boy I don’t mean those pansy ass attempts ya’ve witnessed, I’m talkin’ about a true rush of scouts. The one where they know what to do, where to go, don’t waste no time, in short kid a load a scouts that work as a god damned team. Good ‘uns will take a control point before ya even got out ya pyjamas, taken the second as ya gear up and the last as ya exit into the fray. Pretty damn near nothin’ worse than that, granted ya may live to tell the tale but nothin’ destroys a soldiers spirit than being beaten by a load of skinny lil’ runts with baseball bats.

Sentries? Pah! Before an engie can even finish setting one up those fast lil’ weasels have blown it up wit’ that sorry excuse of a shotgun they got. Then they take the bats out onto the engie, but ya see he don’t die straight away, no they slowly knock the man down. Movin’ in and out, taunting the mans slow swing of a wrench then back in to bump ‘im one, and out to mock ‘im. They ain’t got no honour those lads, just a pack of damned hyenas. By the time they done wit’ him there ain’t nothing left but his boots, hardhat and wrench in a pool of blood.

Stickies, now they were a good way ta take ‘em out, stick ‘em to a point and wait for them to rush in. But now some of ‘em have gotten wise to this, won’t go rushing in like normal. No, now one of ‘em will double jump over the point, the demoman gets caught off guard right and sets his bombs off, only they don’t take damage and while some of ‘em be taking the point the others are beating the demoman. They’re getting smarter that’s for damned sure.

Pyros, now they seem like the good choice don’t they? Wrong! Fool why’d I ask ya if it weren’t a trick question, don’tcha know me by now? Don’t answer that kid. Think, what is the scouts main asset? That’s right his speed. And what is the main problem with a flamethrower? Right their short range, maybe you could survive a tour of 2fort now, that ain’t much of a compliment kid. Give those runts some room and they’ll whiz by those pyros unharmed. In fact they can do that wit’ nearly any class on ya team, part from ya own scouts course.

That’s why we got in that new gun for the ‘eavy, Natascha. Slow ‘em buggers right down while we blow ‘em back to their lanky god. But if they got enough numbers on ‘em . . . kid you ever see locust or piranha eat? They cover their prey completely until nothin’ is left right? Well imagine that but wit’ silver baseball wielding lanky Boston lads. The ‘eavy will take a some down but they’ll be right back on him before he knows it.

What? ‘course they can be beat, wouldn’t be ‘ere today if they couldn’t now would I? Ya gotta get ya team working as one, preparing for ‘em. Once you fight off the first wave, they ain’t so tough. They rely on a quick win, don’t have the endurance for a long battle. Get ya pyros protecting engies while they get up their sentries, those scatter guns ain’t worth crap at range, only way a scout can take ‘em is up close. That’s where the pyro comes in see, they also clear out any rogue spies too. The rest of the team should be a good mix, ‘eavy with Natascha, some soldiers, demomen, and head to the next point. Those sentries and pyros will get ‘em while you’re taking the next point. Get a good medic and you’re sorted. This applies to all warfare kid, medics keep ya alive, so keep ‘em happy and alive. If you prepare well ‘nough for ‘em then you got nothin’ to worry ’bout. Unless course the enemy turtle themselves and send out spies.