Author's Most Important Note: THIS FANFICTION WILL NOT PROGRESS INTO YAOI. I feel this is the most important thing to mention, first and foremost. I understand many of you hate reading a captivating fanfic, only to later find the story was intended as a slashfic all along. You can rest assured that this will not happen in this story.

Author's Other Note That Most People Couldn't Give Two Shits Less About: I am a male fanfiction writer. Yep, there goes any semblance of masculinity I could possibly have down the drain . . .

Anyway, I will be relying on some typically cheap plot devices to get the story going. This story will have plot twists, but not to the extent you start comparing me to M. Night Shyamalan (or maybe you will. It's okay.). I'll be avoiding the Deus Ex Machina, so none of the plot's explanations or revelations will be aleatory. It may seem otherwise in some parts of the story, but it never will be. There won't be any new characters introduced. I'll try to have the nine mercenaries act as the Valve developers intended as much as possible. Of course, I'll also be giving them some quirks that have originated from my vapid imagination. I'll try not be so absurd.

I seriously cannot believe this fanfiction has not been made yet. Some person with far better writing skills than me could have written this, but nope (as Engineer would say). Instead, you'll have to deal with my sub-par writing skills and sardonic tone of voice . . . just kidding, mostly. I'll stop now.

Introduction

This novel is based off the obscure DS game, "999: Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors." (Some of you probably thought 999 in the story's summary was a reference to Herman Cain, huh?) Don't worry if you haven't played the game. The novel will be based off the mechanics of the game, but it will not spoil its plot. If you like the concept of this novel, I highly suggest you play the game. You will not be disappointed. The following paragraphs will just be a very brief summary of the game with very minor spoilers.

In the game "999," there were nine people who were trapped in a sinking ship. They had nine hours to escape their doom. There were nine doors, each emblazoned with a number from 1 to 9, hidden in places in the ship. The number 9 door was the exit. Entering the doors was not simple as there was a catch; everyone was wearing digital watches with a number from 1 to 9. No two people shared the same number. Only a group of three, four, or five people was allowed to enter a door at a time, and the numbers of their watches must have had a digital root (I'll explain what this is in-depth later on, but you can always Google it) matching the number emblazoned on the door they had wished to enter.

Once the characters entered the room, they had a puzzle to solve. The puzzles varied from word games and knowledge tests to mathematics and rearranging objects in a certain way. After the puzzle was solved, the characters would receive a key that allowed them to leave the room and open new areas of the ship. Sometimes, supplementary clues pertaining to the game would be found as well.

The characters of the game initially think they have little in common with each other. They just believed they were all caught in a freak-of-nature incidence. Eventually, they find that there is much more to the game than they had first thought, and they all had specific reasons for being there.

The game had multiple endings, with each one revealing something about a character or event another one did not. In a similar fashion, this fanfiction will have what I call scenarios. There will be four of them. The first three ones will be alternate, tragic scenarios while the fourth one will be the true scenario. The game also had, in my opinion, one of the most unique endings in any video game ever, completely utilizing the functionality of the dual screens. I obviously won't be able to recreate such a scene, but I can sure try to make the ending surprising enough.

Lastly, it may seem like this story will be a choose your own adventure type of story, but it really won't be. Yes, I read the rules. The optional puzzles shouldn't be enough to warrant this story as interactive. If that's a problem, oh well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Team Fortress 2; 999; or Revolution-9. Team Fortress 2 belongs to Valve, 999 belongs to Chunsoft, and Revolution-9 belongs to Apple Records.

Exposition

Chapter 1

Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine . . .

Heavy was rudely awakened by a recording of John Lennon's lethargic voice repeating itself.

Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine . . .

Heavy quickly found the source of the recording. It was coming from a digital alarm clock, which was on a small black nightstand to the left of the small bed Heavy was lying on. He smashed the alarm clock with his large fists. He had not thought, even for a second, to just push the button that turned the alarm off. The recording was annoying him after all.

"Dah," said Heavy in relief.

Heavy had risen from the the bed in a way similar to how the undead rise from their graves in horror films – well, it really wasn't as cinematic. Heavy felt he had been sleeping for a very long time. Although his mind was slowly becoming conscious, his muscles were still very much asleep. Heavy tried standing for a few seconds, but his effort proved to be futile. He lost his balance and fell onto the bed, smashing its delicate frame.

"Oh my God . . ."

Fortunately, the fall had made him fully conscious and had also, ironically, ended his bad mood from his rude awakening. He waited for his blood circulation to come to his legs before finally attempting to stand for a second time. He stretched his arms as high as he could into the air. Waking up had never felt this revitalizing to him. After he was done stretching, he decided to look around the room. It was then that he realized he had never been here before.

"Vhat? Vhere am I?"

Heavy looked at his dimly lit surroundings. The room he found himself in was very small and had few furnishings. Heavy was standing in the center of the room. From his position, there was the broken bed and the nightstand in the top left corner, a cedar chest in the top right corner, a mirror directly to his right, and, behind him, a gray steel door with what seemed like a digital keypad above its handle. Heavy's occupation required him to sleep in many unusual places. He had become almost accustomed to them, but he had never seen anything like the room he was in now.

Heavy headed straight for the door and tried turning its handle. Although the handle rotated, it did not allow the door to open. Heavy tried using more force this time, but the door still did not give in. He now tried barging his 200kg self against the door – something he has done many times for his teammates whenever they couldn't get into a locked door. Alas, the steel door showed no signs of relenting. Heavy tried barging himself three more times against the door before he gave up. He was now hyperventilating. He tended to forget that he was getting old and sometimes brute strength wasn't the answer to a predicament.

Heavy stood at the door, bewildered from the situation he was caught in. It was now evidently clear that someone had abducted him and placed him into this room. Many questions were racing through Heavy's mind (in Russian, of course).

Who could have done this to me? How did I end up here? What have I done that someone would want to do this to me? I know the work I have done with RED was risky and there were objectives not known to me – is this one of them? Are my teammates all right? Is this . . . is this a gulag? Oh no!

Heavy stopped looking at the door and decided to explore around the room a bit. There was not much else he could do. He could have a panic attack and start injuring himself like some of his other teammates did whenever they felt constrained. For whatever reason, the feeling of dying and living made some of them – particularly, Soldier and Demoman – extremely euphoric. Maybe Heavy was trapped here to learn to enjoy killing himself whenever he felt times were tough. Yes, that must be it. The overall team morale was pretty low, and perhaps if Heavy were to make a habit of suicide he could help raise it.

Don't be an idiot, Heavy. Soldier and Demoman are insane. Only insane people would enjoy killing themselves. You are not insane, Heavy – at least not yet. Besides, there is no telling if this place has a respawn machine.

Heavy had a sigh of relief. He had these quite often. He usually conjured positive thoughts to affirm himself that he was not as insane as some of his teammates. He did not dislike any of them, but he felt some of them were too eccentric. If Heavy ever would want to rejoin the general population, he would probably have to distance himself from his teammates. Perhaps rejoining the general population wouldn't be the best for him, anyway.

Heavy really was a great thinker, but it was not conveyed well because of his poor grasp of English. His teammates probably thought of him as some kind of dullard. He was okay with that. He knew he wasn't the smartest person on the team, but he also knew he wasn't the dumbest. He wanted the others to underestimate him. He knew he could gain advantages when his enemies and even friends overlooked his abilities. He wish he could implore Spy to stop being so arrogant – he is, for God's sake, a spy. One would think a spy would be less showy – but this would risk unveiling his facade of stupidity.

Heavy was lost in thought for a few minutes. He hadn't moved an inch from where he stood hyperventilating after attempting to barge into the door.

There's no use standing around doing nothing. Maybe I can find something in this room that hints to where I currently am. I must admit that I highly doubt I'll find anything of the sort, but again it's better than doing nothing.

As Heavy proceeded to walk towards the cedar chest, he noticed from the mirror that a red light was being emitted from his left wrist. He brought his wrist to his face. The object seemed to have been some kind of watch, but time wasn't being displaying. The only thing on the watch was a big number "5." There were three buttons on the right side of the watch's display. Heavy clicked each of them repeatedly, but nothing happened. He now regretted having smashed the alarm clock. The thing could have told him the time and the date.

Oh well. Knowing the time probably won't do me much good at the moment.

Heavy opened the cedar chest. The musty scent that left the chest after he opened it immediately reminded him of his parents. His parents stored his clothes inside of cedar chests. As a result, his clothes always smelled of cedar. Of course, he couldn't have the burden of taking a cedar chest with him everywhere he went with his mercenary work. He was happy to have the scent linger in his nostrils, as weird as it may have seemed.

Inside of the chest was a key and a paper labeled "ESCAPE."

"Escape?" said Heavy.

Heavy looked around the room for anything that could possibly have a keyhole. The door used a keypad, the cedar chest was already open, the nightstand had no doors, the alarm clock was in pieces, and there was nothing under the bed. The mirror didn't offer anything but Heavy's reflection, which Heavy himself hadn't paid much attention to until now.

Heavy never actually cared about his own appearance. If he did, he probably would have lost some weight. Heavy appeared slightly thinner in the mirror, though. Was it just the mirror or had he really lost weight? He touched his stomach with his hands. To him, it really didn't feel much different. Maybe it's because his eyes saw one thing and his body felt something else? No, that couldn't have made any sense.

Heavy also looked at his face. He had grown a small goatee. He didn't like having facial hair, but that really didn't matter at the moment; what did was if he had noticeably lost some weight, shouldn't he have had more facial hair than just a mere goatee?

It must be the mirror. I must stop letting myself be distracted by trivial matters.

Heavy took a glance into his smoky blue eyes. He looked listless, aged, morose . . . He really didn't look like his usual self at that moment. He probably needed some more sleep, but he felt as if he had just awoke from an eternal slumber a few minutes ago. When he regained consciousness after smashing the bed, he thought he was full of vigor. Now, it seems that was just a fleeting emotion. Regardless, he found an opening close to where his nose was reflected on the mirror.

Is this . . . yes, it is! The keyhole.

Heavy had never been so happy to find a hole before . . . (yeah, yeah. Immature joke. Plenty more where those came from.) He inserted the key and rotated it until he heard a click. Something had been unlocked, and Heavy assumed that something was behind the mirror. He looked behind the mirror and found a small drawer, similar in appearance to trays behind seats on airplanes. He opened it and found a calculator and a paper with instructions. Heavy brought the paper closer to his face and read it:

(Author's Note: In the game, as I've mentioned, there were puzzles. I'll be creating some for this fanfiction as well. Most of them will probably be easy or stupid. I wouldn't spend too much time trying to solve this puzzle. Heavy will give some more hints, and the answer will appear at the start of the next chapter. Anyway, here's the first puzzle.)

So, you want to get OUT? I bet you're wondering where you are. I can provide you with the answers you seek, but first you must escape here by yourself. Do this test to show me you are worthy.

You've heard of digital roots, no? Well let me enlighten you. A digital root is found by adding the digits of a number until you are left with a single digit. This may sound confusing, but it really is not. Let me show you:

The number is 1234. Now, how do we get its digital root? Add the digits!

1+2+3+4=10

1+0=1

Let's try a harder number, 95781. Don't be intimidated. You can always just break it down into smaller bits. Like this:

9+5+7+8+1=30

3+0=3

I hope you understand. If not, you'll be rotting in this room!

I guess you'll be wanting the passcode for the door now. Too bad. Do you think me instructing you how to use digital roots was in vain? Fool! I am a very punctual person. I told you this was a test. Don't worry. It won't be too hard.

You'll need four digits. I guess you could spend time trying to guess the 1 out of 10,000 possible combinations that could be correct, but don't you think that would be a bit too tedious? Yeah, I thought so. Here is your hint:

You, Zip, Mercenaries, and the Digital CAPS of this paper not within or below this sentence. Oh, and A=1 and Z=26.

Have fun! If you need any help, just contact your hidden ESP potential. Ha!

Heavy reread the paper twice, trying to get a better understanding of what was going on. He wondered who would write in such a frivolous matter, telling others that if they did not follow the instructions they would die. It couldn't have been the Administrator. She was a very stern woman. Heavy couldn't imagine the woman having a sense of humor, not even an iniquitous one. She just didn't seem like a person inclined to laughter. Heavy had heard her laugh over the loudspeakers after a victory before, but it never seemed genuine. It was perhaps a mockery of the triumphant feeling he and his teammates would have after winning a match.

I thought I told myself . . . well, this isn't exactly trivial, but it's not the most important thing right now. If the instructions are telling the truth, I can leave this room and find out where I am!

He understood he needed four numbers to open unlock the door. He really didn't feel like punching random numbers until he got the right one. He needed to play along with whoever put him into this situation. He didn't like being toyed with, but it seemed he had no other choice.

You, Zip, Mercenaries, and the Digital CAPS of this paper not within or below this sentence. Oh, and A=1 and Z=26. What could this possibly mean? How am I supposed to get numbers with this information? Zip, I believe, means zero. Perhaps if I replace that with zero . . . You, Zero, Mercenaries, and the Digital CAPS of this paper not within or below this sentence. Perhaps the other words are supposed to represent numbers as well. You has three letters, so maybe it needs to be replaced with the number three. If that's the case, what I said earlier about Zip is wrong. Mercenaries has 11 letters. If I'm supposed to count the letters of the words, what the hell is the whole point of the last bit about the Digital CAPS? Well, it's worth trying.

Heavy entered 3311 onto the keypad. As he was expecting, the number was not the passcode.

I should trust my gut feeling. I just know I was correct about Zip. Now, I just need to find out what the other three numbers are. So far, I know *0**. You know, I could just start entering random codes. The chance of randomly guessing the code is now down to 1 in 1000.

After about fifteen minutes, Heavy had a good feeling he knew what numbers You and Mercenaries represented. The remaining part of the sentence about the Digital CAPS still baffled him. He wanted to understand it, even though all he had to do now was punch in the three known numbers and guess the last one until it was correct. The chance of correctly guessing was now down to 1 in 10. This bothered Heavy, though. It was as if whoever wrote the instructions knew that the first three numbers would be easy to guess. It was the last one that would be easily overlooked. He guessed it had something to do with digital roots, which he hadn't used at all to get the first three numbers. The writer had stressed the importance of understanding digital roots. Heavy had an epiphany.

Of course! CAPS as in capital letters. A=1 and Z=26. And then, the digital root.

Heavy calculated the number mentally. He didn't even need the calculator he was holding, so he placed it into his pocket. He entered the passcode, and this time he was correct.

Yes, I understand it completely now. Very slick.

Heavy turned the handle and the door was now able to open. He took one last look at the room, and then he left.