My own take on how The ship Helmet Party ( Engineer/Soldier ) may would develope
Disclaimer: Developing Friendships / Character Development / Developing Relationship / PTSD / Angst and Humor / Graphic description of violence
Ships involved: (Engineer x Soldier) / (Heavy x Medic) / (Sniper x Scout)

For what it's worth, I like you
And what is worse I really do
Things have been worse
And we had fun fun fun
Until I said 'I love you '
And for what is worth, I really do

„Men, here are the facts as I understand them. One; That was an amazing killing spree. Two – BY THE OTHER TEAM!"

He had flung around so quickly, the group of eight men cringed simultaneously.
"You are the worst, the most terrible, most sorriest excuses for mercenaries I have ever goddamn seen! You call yourself soldiers? HAH! You make me laugh! I have seen more teamspirit and action in a graveyard than here!"
The ill-fitted helmet swayed over his hidden face as he charged forwards with his finger raised. His victim of verbal assault was now the Spy.

"You french, frog-brained slug-sucker are not man enough to fight in MY team! And you, you goddamn Robin Hood hippie – you're supposed to SHOOT people! SHOOT! Not throw your piss at them and hope the stench of cowardice will make them go blind!"
Spy and Sniper sucked on their cigarettes, unimpressed. The american had figured out by now that trying to lure an expression out of them was hard, harder at least compared to the rest. He didn't dwell on trying today.

No, he had a job to do, the job to yell and gripe at each and everyone of his teammates, and throw as many insults his obviously tiny brain could come up with.

"If you would pull your ass outta your whiskybottle once and start doing your job maybe we WON'T LOSE NEXT TIME!" that assault was directed to the demoman, who instantly burst into tears, slurred into his hands, sobbing and whining like a tortured dog. Disgusting. Soldier scowled at the man and moved on. How could he ever become friends with such a kind, he wondered, remembering back to the days when his counterpart on the red team used to be at his side, at least, for a short time. At least one thing was clear as sunshine to him regarding that situation – that RED was definitely not such a big crybaby like the scotsman on his team, and that whenever he killed the enemy, he would feel the sweet, sweet feeling of revenge, every smack of his shovel, every bullets piercing throw their bodies, every rocket tearing them apart and launching their bloodsoaked bodyparts over the battlefield...

But today however, was not such a day, for BLU had lost once again.

And if you would have asked the Soldier about whose fault that was, he wouldn't hesitate to lift his finger and point them at his own crew. And only at his crew. He? No, he never made mistakes, he was american after all, the most glorious fighter america has ever seen – the fact that he had spent most of the time collecting ripped off heads from the battefield instead of capturing ( 'leave that to the boston boy' he had declared) was of course not conducing to their eventual failure.

He moved on.

"And YOU two, you make me goddamn sick!" Medic and Heavy shared a skeptical glance. In their eyes, they had been doing most of the work, and not such a bad one as well. "Next time I see you two fruitbaskets making out in a barn instead of capturing, I will shove my goddamn shovel up BOTH YOUR ASSES!" Nothing but a sneer was the doctors and infantrymans only answer on that. That the Soldier was not quite as delighted over the obvious relationship those two had than the rest was nothing new to an of the mercenaries – that he openly complained and threw insults and jokes at them was predictable.

The german could feel it in the way Soldier kept turning away and back at them, moved from one feet back to the other that there had been a few more things he was planing on throwing at the two of them, but gave up shortly before and continued to move his rage further, to the next mercenary, who happened to be the unlucky one by the name of scout.

"YOU! You goddamn uselesss piece of crap!" he empathized the word "crap" with a kick in the boys guts.
"AUGH! OH, what the hell?!" Scout groaned, holding his stomach. Soldier's paw gripped the boy by the thatch of blonde hair and pulled him up on his eyesight. Soldier always found especial joy in bullying the youngest member with unnecessary kicks, punches, or any kinds and ways of abuse.

"What is your purpose boy?" he growled.
"What the hell is your problem, you old fart-?" - "I ASK THE QUESTIONS, PUNK!"

Soldier had his riding crop snatched from the floor and with a wide wing, smacked the leather against Scout's face. Burning pain spread on the boys temple and he cried out. "WHAT IS YOUR GODDAMN PURPOSE?!"
After Scout didn't answer on that rather confusing question, Soldier dropped him. "Your purpose is to take your slimy hand outta your boxers and CAPTURE THE POINTS! DID I STUTTER?"

Without registering the Scouts answer, he moved to the masked person, gripping him by the collar. "Hmph!?" Pyro yelped. "YOU, smoky joe, you better have a better reason than your goddamn frilly bra getting stuck in your overall for not SPYCHECKING!"
"Now now, Sal, Pyro had been a good aid for me. He caught more spies than ya have-"
"DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK, MAGGOT!?" Soldier hollered at the Engineer that had dared to interfere. " I don't think so! You wait in line for me to get to your sorry ass, or YOU'LL REGRET IT!"

Soldier let go of Pyro, who stumbled and tried to catch balance from hanging one or two feet above the floor a second ago. "YOU! You're a wuss!" he pointed at scout. "YOU! You fight like a goddamn girl! AND YOU-"That was the moment the military man reached the last, and smallest mercenary. The engineer. Soldier had his finger extended, pointed at the mechanic, lips curled over his teeth in a snarl. But his rampage found a final and abrupt end at the texan, for he paused a little too long to indicate a dramatic pause. He softened, visibly, and neither knew if that was a good, or a bad sign.

Engineer's shoulders squared in anticipation of the following verbal assault the military man had prepared for him – but it never came. However, Engineer didn't flinch, didn't feel attacked or assaulted at the fierce gaze the other man cast on him. Heck, he didn't even shy away from moving a small step forwards, redyeing himself for the argue that would start between them two.

"Yeah – and me? What'cha gotta say ta me, boy?" he hissed back. Green eyes, hidden beneath toned glass, pierced through the metal over Soldier' face. After a moment or two, Soldier then sighed, air puffing out of his lungs, and his arm slumped down powerlessly to his side. Engineer had pulled the plug. Like a de-powered robot, his rage puffed out of him like air from a balloon to leave him with a sour expression.

The veteran placed his hands on his back, chest puffing out.
"You all. Dismissed. Medic may go and patch you all up now." Soldier nodded towards his team. As if given the cue, the german grabbed the rim of his latexgloves and pulled them further down his elbow.

"Mit Vergnügen."

Everyone groaned in relief from the almost daily routine of getting either yelled at or being praised for their fine job coming to an end. Everybody hated this part after the battle, listening to the endlessly long rampages and speeches the fanatic mercenary had prepared for them. Today however, it came to an end much faster, thanks to whatever their little mechanic had done to stop him. It was no secret to anybody anymore that, whatever reason Soldier had, he always went prominently easier on the engineer, no matter what it was. If it was simply out of courtesy for an american fellow or simply deep respect, for the texans words and fists, neither could tell. But courtesy was not a word in the registers of Soldier, and friends was a state between those two that was practically impossible. More due to Soldier being an loner, a social wreck, and friends, he said, was something he didn't need. Why would he? He had racoons, and a Shovel that keep him company. Although the lesser part wasn't all to talkactive.

The breath the engineer held, left his body with a puff, his posture relaxed. It looked like the rest of his powers would not be wasted on starting to argue with the Soldier. He turned to join the rest of the team to head back into the base, frustrated, sore and hungry like a wolf. "Engineer!" Soldier then called in a sonorous voice. Engineer stopped, and stared over his shoulder. "What'cha want, Soldier? Catchin' up with throwin' some of yar reprimands at me...?"

"I need to speak to you. I want to see you at my room, 1800 hour, after dinner."

That was definitely not what the engineer had anticipated for an answer. "May I ask what for?" Engineer was visibly frowning beneath the goggles. And waited for an explanation. But it didn't come. Both just stared at each other for several moments with neither knowing if that was their sign to leave or not. "Sal, is there a particular reason ya wanna-"

"Classified!" Soldier barked. "Dismissed!"

And with that, he turned around, hands holding onto the crop against his lower spine and marching back to the domiciles. Well, well – seems like the scolding would have to wait until a later hour. Such an honor, getting called to the Soldier's room to privately get his ass kicked. Engineer nibbled on his lower lip, while heading back into the base. Once inside in the privacy of his own workshop, he started examining the wounds and bruises he had received from today's battle. With care, he loosened the boots and removed them from his ankles. The tiniest scrape over his aching feet left him hissing in pain. Something was soaked red on his usually white socks.

Nothing on his uniform was left in complete blue anyway, here and there were bloodstains, his or others, or dirt tacked on his overall and hands. Every muscle and every bone was sore from carrying 250ibs of toolboxes over the field, or getting kicked, punched, stabbed, launched in bloody bits in the air, or being shot in the head. Two-fort had never been his favorite place. Everything was too narrowed, the areas, the perimeters, leaving nearly no place for actual combats that didn't comprise of learning to know the RED 'close and personally'. On which he really didn't insist.

Not when RED spy was around.

And it was too bright, and even when it was raining, it was still warm and humid, and there was always a crack in the clouds where sun rays mercilessly burned down on his head and shoulders. Even through his shirt, he had sunburns. Not to mention, all the other bruises he received. Spies had so much more free room, so many more placed to stay tucked and ambushing the poor texan when his nose was stuck in his blueprints. He had thought about and tried many times to learn the construction plans he had made to know them by heart, just so his attention spam wouldn't be fixed only on the buildings he created, but that was simply impossible. There was always a thing he erased, added, adjusted and changed that there was no time to memorize it.

His hand wandered over his nape down into his shirt and gently scraped the fresh scar of a knifes blade over his left shoulderblade. That damn spy never missed the lungs, he thought, and scratched the crusted layer. Medic had often told him not to touch it while it healed, but it didn't matter – it left scars anyway. Bruises he did know by heart, for he received them nearly daily.

With a deep sigh, he brushed off his shirt and undershirt, his socks and pants. Ugly, blue and green spots were spread all over his shins and arms, his ribs and back. Shrapnel's of explosions from demomen or soldiers had left carvings in the mechanics body, little burnmarks from Pyros that burned his mechanics.

Today, RED had taken much fun in torturing the BLU Engineer.

No wonder Soldier was angry, but he had simply no right. While he seemed to enjoy himself in adding new heads into his collection, he wouldn't notice the constant assault on the engineer during the day. He built a sentry, it was shot down. He build a dispenser, it was shot down. Teleporter up, the next second down.
At the end of the day, he was certain he was killed, more often than he actually had killed. Within mere twenty minutes, all three suitcases were gone. And he had to carry the can for it. But it was not his fault, he had done his job like he always did. Soldier still yelled at him, at all of them– he should have helped , instead of going on a solo killing spree.

But Soldier was not a teamplayer. No, he never were.
He always killed on his own, died on his own, walked and traveled on his own. He was much like sniper, he didn't call for help, or didn't call a medic when he knew the damage was too much to safe. Like an old cat, feeling the end was dawning, he dragged himself into the next corner and waited for the cold embrace of death.

Engineer wondered if he was lonely.

Maybe he was, and was simply good at hiding it. There was never a time where Soldier seemed unhappy in solitude. Never had he felt the need to join poker-evenings with Sniper, Demo and Scout, never joined him, Pyro and Heavy at the campfire. Now that Engineer was recalling, there had never been a social event he had ever seen the soldier taking part of. Not even in battle did Soldier like to team up with anybody. He wasn't like Pyro, helping the engineer to keep nasty spies off of his back. He wasn't like Medic, standing at the Heavy's side to fight. That was still a peculiar behavior who always swore on team spirit in his unit. Soldier never had a friend, it seemed.

Besides the enemy Demoman. For how many times had Engineer tried to talk some sense into him, saying that the friendship he as with Demo is dangerous and foolish, not to mention discarding his idea of loyality to the team. Why wouldn't he befriend their own teams demo? Or anybody else? Hell, he even suggested becoming friends with engineer himself. But to no avail. He was stubborn, but so was Engineer And while Engineer got dressed properly, readying himself for dinner, he wondered what occasion the Soldier had found to call him to his room. It wasn't often that the Soldier wanted to talk to any of his teammates in private. Not even for brawls. Engineer didn't know if he should feel honored, he still couldn't think of a reason he would call him out of anybody to his domicile.

Engineer entered the messhall and seated himself with a bowl of boring tasting stew next to Pyro and Scout. "Mind if ah sit here?" he asked, and Pyro quickly scooted over to make place for his friend.

"...So then, I says to the guy, 'brotha, I hurt people,' and then the chump turns and runs! Grabbed my gun, BOOM, head gone, clumps'a hair flyin' everywhere; most fuckin' hilarious thing i've ever seen."
Scout munched on his bread while telling the story he told Sniper everytime they sat together, and then laughed so hard, chunks of food launched out of his mouth and everywhere on the table. Sniper shoved his bowl demonstratively away from the obnoxious brat with nothing but a deep grumble.

"I'm tellin' ya, there's nuthin I've seen before that's funnier." The boy had now turned to the texan. "What'cha lookin' at, hardhat?"

"Boy, would'cha lookit that." he pointed at the welt on the scouts temple. "Looks like that soldier-boy beat'cha good." - "It's nuthin', really. Doesnt even hurt-OW!" the boy flinched as Pyro poked against the red, hot bruise on the scout's face. "Dude, don't jus' touch it!"

"Ya shoulda oughta tell the medic, son." Engineer traced the welt with his thumb. "Ey, don't get all faggy on me!" Scout shoved the man's hand away angrily.

"This ain't no big deal, give it a day or two and you ain't seein' any of it. Hopes though this ain't leavin' a scar. Look at that, Sniper, ya think this gon' leave a scar?"

Sniper didn't even spare a glance at the boy, and rather continued to sup his meal while reading the newspaper.

"Ya scared the doc's gonna find out about'cha lil' backside problem, huh?" Engineer smirked amused. Scout cringed so hard, the table clattered as his knees hit against it. "Yo, old fart, how abouts ya yell it a lil' louder, seems like the backrow didn't hear ya!" Scout hissed into Engineer's direction. Pyro cocked his head in interest. "Mhmph?"

Scout didn't like Engineer, and Engineer didn't like him either. Nevertheless, somehow it seemed that the mechanic was the only one patient enough to more or less enjoy the company of the bostonian around him, which involved into both, mostly scout, asking for favors which spy never should find out about. He was like, a substitute confidant for the kid, and he wouldn't say he didn't enjoy helping the kid along. Keeping a secret though was not his good suit, and helping for such matters was definitely not his job.

"Look boy, if ya consider getting' checked by the medic, I ain't gonna spill Spy that ya havin' some problems sittin' down correctly." To empathize his words, he looked down at the funny way Scout's backside nearly didn't touch the bench. "Ya wouldn't dare-" Scout hissed. "Wouldn't I? Well, ah'm sure Spy would love to know about that little hemorrhoids problem ya been tellin' me about -"

"JEEZ, alright MOM!" Scout rolled his eyes over dramatically. "Is not my fault that freakin' psycho hit me with that thing! Man, who the hell does he think he is, that freakin', old bastard-"

"That is still SIR 'freaking old bastard' to YOU!"

The booming voice of the Soldier suddenly rumbled behind the boy. Scout turned his head over his shoulder, before a large hand grabbed him and pushed his face into his bowl of stew. Clangorous guffaw filled the hall at the sight of the Soldier sinking the boy's face into his meal and only releasing after Engie cast an angry glance at the man. Scout gasped, while broth dripped down his chin and onto his shirt.
"What tha hell?!" Scout blubbered enraged into Soldier's direction, who demonstratively ignored his presence. Pyro gingerly fetched a towel and rubbed off the remains from Scouts face and shirt, while the young man squirmed and griped that he shouldn't treat him like a goddamn baby. "That friggin', old, goddamn, stupid, birdbrained-"

"Say, didn't he meant te talk to ye later about something?" Sniper finally lifted his gaze off of his newspaper to look at the Engineer with his eyebrows arched in question. He didn't even seem to acknowledge the misery of his teammate across the other side of the table. "He sure was eager ta speak me. I'mma makin' sure he ain't be bullyin' ya again, kid." Engineer patted Scout's shoulder. "He doesn't bully me, jeez, only wimps get bullied!"

"Yer are a wimp then, olroight." Sniper commented dryly.
"Oh yeah, ya better say that to mah face, tough guy!" Scout hollered over the table.

"Nah, sorry mate. I would, but it's covered in vegetables."

Engineer didn't follow the fight between the two, his gaze had wandered off, back to the man at the end of the table, sitting far isolated from the group and munching on his single dry loaf of bread. He seemed distracted, sunken in thoughts. His broad jar squared from time to time, and even with his face covered under the helmet, he seemed to show a frown.

Engineer continued to occasionally raise his head from his meal, watching the clock or trying to calm Scout's endless ranting, until during another dispute bubbling up between the Aussie and the Bostonian, Engineer caught Soldier raising from his chair and heading out of the mess hall, back to his domiciles.

And after dinner was done, he followed. Engineer poked his head out, seeing if anyone was roaming the hallways who might start prodding him for questions. After making sure he was in the clear, he slowly stepped out into the hallway and walked towards Soldier's quarters. Only the loud clops of his boots were heard in the corridor, as if to remind him of his own hesitance. The corridors were long, and cold and empty, besides the many doors it bore. Not each of the rooms behind had Engineer ever seen and he didn't want to either, now that he thought about it. Here he was – standing at the same room that belonged to someone who, by society's standards, might as well be thrown in an insane asylum for being such a danger to others. With hesitation, he knocked.

"HALT!" boomed the voice from inside. "NAME AND MATTERS?"

"Dagnabbit, Sal!" Engie had dropped his hardhat, so much did the sudden change in volume in his ears startle him. "I can hear ya jus' fine, EVERYONE can hear ya jus fine. No need ta yell!"

That was enough as an answer for Soldier to open the door. The first thing the engineer was greeted with was a tight fitting white shirt stretched over a broad chest and as Engineer slowly tilted his head, he saw Soldier's familiar scowl on his face.
"You are late, private!" he growled.
"Nope." Engie shook his head. "Ah'm quite punctual, boy. Wouldn'cha look at the time, it's 6 pm, a'right-"
"IF I SAY YOU'RE LATE, THEN YOU GODDAMN ARE LATE!" Soldier gripped the Engineer by his collar and pulled him inside his room, closing the door harshly behind them and, to Engineer's dread, locked the door behind him.

"Well, what a warm welcome..." Engie muttered and situated his overall. Soldier's room was, to his surprise, more comfortable than his own. Where there would be large crates of scrap metal, scrambled paperwork and blueprints scattered, there were neatly folded towels, socks, and t-shirts, stacked and ready for use; the desk that Engineer was used to being cluttered with tools and documents, Soldier had organized into a tidy workspace, complete with lined paper, pencils, and pens (so tidy, in fact, that it looked like it had never been used, which was highly reasonable ), the american flag hanging on the wall as the only decoration for this cold and rather empty room. It resembled more of a prison cell now that Engineer thought about it.

Engineer still clutched the hardhat in his hands as he turned around to watch the man moving past him towards the desk. "So, ah...how ya doin', Sal?" the texan asked. He knew better to start the conversation as casual and friendly as possible, being in Soldier's good books spared him god knows what kind of torture.
"Ya recoverin' fine? Ah saw ya fightin' with that demoman today, uh – he struck ya nicely." Engie's eyes moved down to the side of Soldier's body, where the splintered bottle had grazed him during their combat. Soldier replied with nothing more than an absent-minded grunt.

There was no trace of any blood or injuries on the clean, white shirt the man wore, otherwise, there was no sign he had attended the medic either. Smalltalk, it seemed was not on the military man's mind. So the tinkerer supposed to go down to business right away.
"So, ah - is there a certain reason ya been callin' me here, Solly?"
Engineer asked feebly. Something in the way the man moved was intimidating. Everything about him was, in fact intimidating. Engie had always expected to know that man better than anybody else, but that theory seemed to disprove.

"Look, ah, if ya still mad at our team losin' t'day, ya ain't gonna have ta-"

"You are scum! You are a disgrace to the hardhat!"

"...Come again?" Engineer raised the eyebrows under the goggles.

"You heard me quite alright, civilian!" Soldier barked, and turned around, a familiar tool in his hand. "Engie, I have watched you over the few last days, and it is exactly what I feared – no. Even worse!"
"Ah'm really not catchin' up with ya, Sal." Engineer replied flatly. A mistake. For the instant slap of the crop across his arm made Engineer jerk in pain.
"Ow! What in tarna-"
"I DO NOT ALLOW ANY FORM OF ADRESSING ME OTHER THAN 'SIR', IS THAT CLEAR?"
Engineer's jaw nearly dropped. Another hard swing of the crop against his other arm. "IS THAT CLEAR, I ASKED."

"Sa-, ah... Y-yes sir." Engineer muttered, still befuddled by the sudden assault. That seemed to please the Soldier.

He poked the Engineer's chest with the crop. "Pants down." he then ordered.
"Do what now?"
"I said pants down!"

Engineer cringed. What in sam's hill was going on here? The rather confused gaze on the mechanics face made Soldier roll his eyes under the helmet.
"If you think I am going to unbutton your overall myself, you are wrong! I am neither your servant, nor am I a goddamn fruitcake! I will not put a finger on an other man if I'm not intending to rip off their heads, so do what I say! "

Now that was an even bigger surprise to hear. Inwardly, Engineer had already prepared for the worst.

"I-uh..."
"STAND AND DELIVER, MAGGOT!"

"A'right, a'right! Ah, hell..." Engie wheezed, but obeyed. He grunted, and unbuttoned the straps of his overalls, letting the front bib hang flaccid. This was all really weird. Perhaps this should have been a sign to run, but Engineer missed his chance. Now all he could do was watch as Soldier eyed him skeptically, while circling him, the crop gently bobbing up and down in his wrist.

"Look at you, maggot. Even your goddamn machines need a diet! You are weak! Lazy! Fat!" the soldier emphasized the word 'fat' with a swift and decisive swing of his crop, hitting the engineer's very sensitive side. Engineer jerked with a surprised yelp."I do not allow such lack of strength in my goddamn team!"

Now that was plain mean. Yes, he hadn't had the shape of Soldier, but the difference between him and himself was, that Soldier was carrying a rocketlauncher around most of the day, and took his over-the-top training regimen very serious. Engineer however was a man that solved problems. Practical problems. And losing weight was none of these.

He growled, knitting his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak: "Son, ya better be taking that back or ah'm promisin' ya, ah'm gonna lay ya out-!"

To no avail. Soldier grabbed him by his nape then and pushed him with such strength to the floor, hadn't he reacted in time, his face would me pressed into the ground now. "On your knees, maggot, and give me 20! No, 40! GO, GO, GO!"
And Engineer had no other choice but to follow his orders. He was still not fully finding any sense in the man's actions, but if the only reason he called him to his room in privacy for push-ups and hits, then he might as well just unlock the door himself and leave. "Come on, move your sorry ass!" Soldier bellowed, threatening to whip him once more. Engie instantly pushed his heavy body off the floor with his hands propping against the ground beneath, lowered himself again just barely before his nose tip touched the ground, and pushed himself up again.

"Faster, FASTER!" Soldier shouted. Engineer tried to speed up without running out of breath. Once he found a steady but involuntary rhythm, puffing out a hot breath each time he lowered himself again, he absolved his push-ups. Soldier watched the man like a hawk, swirling the crop in his hand. "I have taken it my duty to bring you into shape, Engie. For the next few weeks you'll follow my leads. Things like lollipops and chocolate-bars will not exist in this plan, and this here is only a sample. You will be training hard! Everyday!"

"W-What?" Engineer wheezed.

"I DID NOT ASK YOU A QUESTION!" Soldier whipped Engineer on his nape, and the tinkerer cried in pain. "Come on, come on, One-two, one-two! Faster Maggot!"

"Dagnabbit Soldier, I-"

"Not enough pushing! C'mon professor! I wanna see you kiss the floor! Kiss the floor, dammit!"

Engineer growled angrily, refusing to even consider to –-

"LIPS ON THE FLOOR, SCUM!"

Never had Engineer quicker pressed his lips on anything than now, with each lower, his mouth made contact with the ground and each time he could swear something was left stuck on the soft flesh and he just wanted to brush it off so badly.
At the count of 30 push ups, his powers left his body so fiercely, he groaned and collapsed. His chest heaved and fell rapidly and deeply, his already aching body was feeling like an elephant stood on his spine.
His lungs burned like fire and each breath he drew was searing in his throat.

Soldier however, was not satisfied. Not satisfied at all.

"Just look at you, disgraceful blob of a man!" To Engineer's relief, Soldier placed the whip back on the table. "You call yourself a mercenary? You call yourself a man of my team? Hah! I have seen people in goddamn coffins fitter than you!"

Engineer didn't reply, rasping to catch his breath and endure the blooming pain of the welts all over his body with occasional groans and whines muffled by the floor. "Show some goddamn backbone, I barely touched you!" Soldier growled. But it seemed Engineer's slightly exaggerated writhing in pain finally reached Soldier's soft spot once more. He gave not more than a sigh, and marched past his own declared student.

Paper and pen were fetched. Soldier scribbled, and Engineer carefully pushed his body off the floor.
A mingle of anger, frustration, and embarrassment seeped into his head. But before he could start ranting into Soldiers face about that truly atrocious opinion the older man had about him and his work, and the way he treated him, Soldier turned and held out the note he had written down.

"This is your training's schedule! I want to see you at attention, at 0500 hour in the morning, at this very doorstep."

"Five in the morning?" Engineer rasped appalled. "Soldier, how the hell ya thinkin' ah'm gonna-"

"NO EXCUSES, HARDHAT!" Soldier hollered, and then shoved the engineer to the door. "Dismissed."

"Solly, listen to me-!"

"I said, Dismissed!" The door closed with a harsh swing.

Dumbfounded, wobbly on his knees, and with nothing but burning weals all over his body and a piece of paper, Engineer digested the entire scenario he had just witnessed in silence staring at the door.
It all happened so fast and in such confusing turns and twists, it was nearly too much for the texan. The reminder of events were in his hand, and on his skin, which started to burn badly.
Engineer quickly scooted away from Soldier's door, scared another session of whipping would wait for him if he dwelt too long. His hand rubbed over the hot wheal on his neck and hissed silently.

For gods sake, he was fine with being called fat. He was fine with being ordered about, as long as it was weighted on mutuality, but Soldier daring to call him "lazy", "weak", or even hurting him, that was going too far.
Alright then, soldier-boy, Engineer thought. You wanna play with the bull? Then you better had watchin' them horns! There was no way you can take a Conagher by the horns and joggle on them without them jamming up on you!

He would show him what a weakling this Engineer was, right next morning – but first, he should visit the doctor. Those welts were seriously starting to hurt.