The Chamber 219 is easy to find. Too easy, thought Pauling, for a room that keeps the most deranged mental patients this side of the Rockies. As you walk past the reception, you will notice a small bonsai tree. It's unkempt, much like everything else in this mental institution. Pinewood Paradise is everything but its name. Not a single pine tree is near it, as it is located in a desert. And as Pauling would soon realize once more, it wasn't much of a paradise. It is the year 1981. Many strange things happened since RED, she thought. Ones scarier than the rest. She went past the bonsai tree, which looked as it bowed its head down in shame. She walked through the long hall, avoiding eye contact with a groggy gentleman sweeping off some shards of glass outside of room 201.

203…

She knew what she was getting into. The room she was looking for is at the far end. The longer she walks, the more she hears more cries of pain and hysterical laughter. She will never forget the first time she visited him. As she walked past room 209, a deranged woman kicked open the door. She held a blanket in her arm. She bit Pauling's leg and demanded that she revives her dead child. It took three nurses to contain her and move her away from the trembling Pauling, clutching her chest. She could remember the empty look in the woman's bloodshot eyes, and the smell of gin on her breath. She remembered the bundle she held in her arms.

It was empty.

207…

She sped up. She didn't want any distractions this time. The boy… the man she visited during the past 12 years had to know the truth. He tried living in blissful ignorance, but deep inside, she knew that he needed to know.

Everyone deserves to know the truth.

213…

The door 219 was made of glass and wood. She couldn't hear crying inside, nor panic screams. She heard talking. He talked alternating his voice very once in a while. She was afraid, like the first time she saw him. She had gotten used to his problem, but never the strange atmosphere, as she walks in on a 31 year old man talking to himself. The doctor came up to her and grabbed the small copper knob.

"Are you ready?" he asked, with a caring expression on his face.

"The question is, doctor…" she said after looking up from the dirty floor;

"…is he ready?"

"Good morning, ya French twat."

"Good morning, you infantile Bostonian."

"Howdy, folks. What's up?"

"Aww, nuthin'. Just hanging 'ere, I guess."

The slightly aged Bostonian looked at his room. It was a nauseating olive green, complete with dark hardwood floors. A single white mattress was on the floor, not even covered with a sheet. On it, the Bostonian stashed his baseball, and eight white sports socks. They were put neatly in a row, illuminated by the hanging lamp, dangling slowly from side to side. It was the only source of light, since the room had no windows. The Bostonian used this small architecture flaw to fill the walls with torn pages from Playboy, and write on them with a black marker he snuck in. His eyes lingered shortly on the black kindergarten handwriting over the wall opposing the makeshift bed, and read the lines he wrote during a crisis he had once.

You there, Ma? I ain't a freak, so why ain't you here?

And under it, a small, hardly visible speck of blood, from when he hit his head against the wall in frustration. He shook his head, trying to convince himself that this truly horrifying place was now his new home. He was sitting on the floor, along with his buddies.

"I will never understand 'ow you could survive in zuch terrible accommodations. They seem beneath you, zough not by much."

"Aw, jeez, thanks, French!"

"Zat was not zupposed to be a compliment, you self righteous imbecile."

"From you, French, I'll take what I can get."

"Funny how your mother said the same thing zat one time." chuckled the Frenchman.

"Ey, fuk you."

"Well, fellah, I think it's swell to have a place of your own. I hope you still miss us from time to time."

"I sure do." The baseball cap wearing thirty-one-year-old tilted the rim across his face, looking down at the floor.

"The doctors say that I shouldn't be talkin' to you no more. They stuff me with meds or some shit to forget you guys. But I can't."

"You can't forget us! You need us!"

"Ze laborer is correct. I could do fine without him, but ze kid is a lost cause. He needs all of us."

"I know, ya dumbass bastards! That's what I tried to tell them! But they. Ain't. Listening."

The Scout clenched his fists in anger, making the Engineer shut his mouth tight.

"Well, just so you know, fellah, we'll always be here for you. Me, The Demo, The Sniper… Heck, even Spy."

"True. Though not because I like you, but because I have a binding contract by RED."

"Jeez, thanks guys. It's funny how you're here for me. Like yous… Like you… Like you guys ain't dead."

Scout's vision cleared up. He had two socks on his hands. One was wearing a hardhat, the other a small cigarette in his mouth, formed by the Bostonian's small fist. He took off the socks and watched them to the floor, like they did back at Teufort. He gazed upon the socks aligned on the mattress. They all had eyes drawn on them, and all had characteristics of his fellow teammates. He even got a small optical mask for Pyro. They were laying there, lifeless. It was October all over again. A crisp Autumn day that ended so badly. He clutched his head and started breathing loudly. The Respawn broke. And Engy was the first to die. The more of his friends died the more clear it became that he had to win the battle on his own. In the end he did. RED won. But Scout was the only one who finished the battle. He didn't die at all that day. And now he regrets it. After he killed all the BLUs in vindictive post-victory fury, he fell to his knees, as a dark truth swarmed around his body, imprisoning him. By that time it was obvious.

He was the last one.

He picked up the socks and aligned them on the bed. He kneeled on the floor as he heard the door open. A young doctor, wearing a long white coat. He carried a clipboard and adjusted his glasses to the tip of his nose. He was so familiar.

"MEDIC!" Scout screamed excitedly. The young doctor sighed.

"No, Scout. We have been over this time and time again. My name is Dr. Edwards. I have been Dr. Edwards for ten years. I am not German and do not use a bone saw. I cannot heal people the way your supposed Medic did. I am only here for the patients of this asylum, and not your entire team."

"So, how you been, Doc?" Scout asked, his gleeful grin masking the disappointment in his eyes. He remembered now. Dr. Edwards. From Key West. He had nothing to do with his beloved German doctor.

"I have been better." He said with a soft expression.

"You have a visitor."

The door swung open. Scout saw the figure of a lady. She wore a blue fedora and large black glasses. He popped them into place with her long index finger. She fixed her tight red jacket and walked in.

"Hello, Scout."

Scout stood up for the first time in days.

"Pauling…"

Pauling looked at the Scout. He slouched as he stood, as always. He wore the same red shirt and jeans like that day. The stench of sweat and markers was overwhelming. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't pass out. She briefly looked at the doctor, standing idly by the door. He was prepared for any possible outburst. Even after 12 years the patients have joined the asylum, panicky chaotic outbursts were possible. Scout seemed skinnier somehow. Wrinkles decorated his eyes like tiny spider webs. He smiled as he saw Pauling.

"You look as hot as evah." He said, turning his shoulders back and standing up straighter. His back cracked, but he didn't seem to mind it. Pauling was looking into his deep icy blue eyes. She gulped, trying to keep him in her sight, and not nervously look around the messy room like before.

"Scout."

He walked up to her, smiling. He grabbed her shoulders, but the doctor instructed him to let her go. She nodded, thankfully.

"Any news from RED?"

"No."

"Damn. Uh… Is the new Engy any good? Did he try and fix the Respawn thingy?"

"New Engy? No, I don't…"

"There is a new Engineer, right? Who's building the sentries? Who's getting the dispensers for Scouts?"

"There are no Scouts."

"No Scouts? Who's capturing the freakin' points?"

Scout stomped around the room, speaking at a million miles an hour.

"There are no points."

"So what, it's just a bunch of Spies and shit killing each otha'?"

"There. Are. No. Spies."

"Well what the fuck is there?"

"Nothing Scout! There is no more RED!"

Pauling gasped and started breathing heavily as she spewed out the last sentence. Scout fell to his mattress and accidentally sat on the sock puppet Heavy. He intertwined his fingers and looked down. He moved his eyes back to Pauling. He blinked once.

"BLU… Has BLU won?"

"No, Scout. BLU is gone, too. Nothing is left. Scout… It's over."

Scout tried to comprehend what he had just heard. One question bothered him. He couldn't understand how this happened. Why did this happen. But to Pauling, it was all too clear.

After Scout brought the final victory to RED, killing every single BLU still left, he broke down. He became hysterical. Pauling remembered that day quite well. Four men in white got Scout kicking and screaming into the white straight jacket. They tossed him in the asylum's van. Scout spewed out profanities, so they gagged him with a white handkerchief. He bounced about in the van, laughing and crying at the same time, knowing that it's over right there. RED and BLU became clear to the public eye. More people protested against the cruelty of having men fight and killed over and over again for a measly parcel of land co-owned by two brothers. It was risky, to say the least, to create another team. After 12 years of bickering, more things started to malfunction. First the control room, then the alert system. The Administrator was fired after what had later became known as "The Scout Incident". She would do just fine, Pauling thought as Helen packed her bags, not revealing the slightest bit of emotion about her dismissal. She always pulls through. Without Helen to supervise everything, the RED and BLU industries bankrupted. Redmond and Blutarch had to sell all of their land just to make ends meet. About two years ago, Blutarch's life support machine started to malfunction. He had no money, and no man to fix it. Yesterday he passed, in his bankrupt estate. Redmond fulfilled his dream of outliving his brother, but now, when they had nothing to fight about, his presence on this world seemed meaningless. He became mad and unplugged himself, dying instantly.

And thus ended RED and BLU. Pauling was alerted 8 hours ago. She now needed to tell one person who had no means of knowing. She had to let him know that it was hopeless. She fought back tears thinking about the terrible thoughts that flew through his head. As he heard the terrible tale of RED and BLU's end, he stood up.

"How are they gonna bring 'em back?"

Pauling looked up, wiping a single tear off her face. Even the doctor felt uneasy at this point.

"Excuse me?"

"How are they gonna fix the Respawn?"

"They won't! Scout, it's over!"

The Bostonian clenched his fists. He couldn't be the last one! He couldn't!

"They will have to rebuild it!"

"Nobody can, Scout! Even if they did, you would need DNA of the people you wanted to reproduce!"

"I got that!" Scout jumped and flipped over his mattress. Under it, he held a small cardboard box. He opened it and flipped its contents on the floor.

Pauling almost fainted.

Inside was a mix of blood, hair, and even an eyeball. The blood was dried up in a small plastic bag, and the eye was soiled by it. It stared at Pauling, who was now turning green.

"Some-a dis ought to be my team!"

Scout rummaged through some red and blue fabric, and a couple of white fingers.

"Even if it ain't… I can't be alone."

Scout looked up at Pauling. She had the same look on her face as his mother as she first saw him in this room. She was scared and disappointed. He remembered her look as she marched out crying, saying how she doesn't recognize him.

"I have no son!"

She pointed at him.

"That freak isn't my son!"

He waited for her to come back, to apologize. She never returned. His brothers never visited. Pauling checked up on him every week, and every week she left him, terrified. Yet, she could take the time to visit. Why couldn't Ma? He bit off the cap of his black marker and scribbled on the wall.

You there, Ma? I ain't a freak, so why ain't you here?

He pulled his hair, and started running into the walls. His forehead bled as he bounced off, leaving small specks of blood. It was clear to him that everyone had abandoned him. He took the marker and started looking for something, anything. He took out all the socks he had. He drew eyes on each one, laughing manically as he drew the small circles. He put a sock on his hand. He drew tiny glasses on it. He could still remember the first words he mimicked;

"You need medical attention, Dummkopf!"

Scout felt better. He knew he was insane, but he felt like he had someone again.

He noticed the terrified expression on Pauling's face. He pushed the box away. He stood up, barefoot.

"I'll wait until someone fixes the thing."

Pauling calmed down.

"You… you can't wait forever, Scout."

"Yes I can! I'll wait, a-and… they'll use this DNA, right? And…and, they'll all be alive, and I will… When they come back…"

He took Pauling's hands in his, gently.

"I will marry you, Miss Pauling."

"Back off from her!", the doctor shouted, but Pauling signaled him that it was OK.

"Scout…" She looked at him; "I am not Miss Pauling anymore. I haven't been Miss Pauling for ten beautiful years."

Scout let go of her hands. He sat on the floor, on the hair and blood, staining himself. He remembered running around Teufort, picking up anything resembling his team. There was an ear in the box. He ate it one time, when he hadn't eaten in days. He looked up at Mrs. Pauling like a good boy.

"He's one lucky guy."

"Goodbye Scout." Pauling said, tears filling up her eyes. Scout thought about something for a second.

"I'll still wait."

Pauling didn't turn around.

"Nobody's going to wait with you."

She left and the doctor locked the door. That was the last time he ever saw her.

I'll still wait.

He remembered the good times with the team. The time he got ubered by The Medic, hitting Heavy with his bat, jokingly, and stealing Spy's cigarettes and smoking them while guarding the briefcase.

Still wait.

He will never fight with them again. He will never do anything with them again. He will be the one who lived. He will be… The Last One. He lay on the floor, looking at the stain on the wall. He closed his eyes, remembering the time he was scorched by the Pyro. He chuckled.

Wait.

The next morning, Dr. Edwards found Scout lying on the floor, covered in human hair and blood. He had his eyes closed and had a melancholic expression on his face.

He bent down and checked his pulse, but even before he did, he knew he died.

He died waiting.

Waiting.

"I don't have to wait any more.", he thought as he was reunited with his teammates once again, in the great Teufort in the sky. Everyone was there; the Spy, The Heavy, and the entire opposing BLU team.

"Good to have back, leetle man." Heavy said, presenting Scout with his bat. Scout took it and swung it around, re-familiarizing himself with the weight of it. It has been so long… Finally he was home. Now his team was with him, and he just had to wait a little bit longer.

Mission begins in 60 seconds…