Oh look another thing I should really apologise to you all for the massive gap there's bound to be between each chapter. I should also really stop starting my fics like this UGH. Guess what this was inspired by.

Don't own anything except my art


I found another interesting one.

Another good what?

Another good world. Obviously. What do you think we're looking for?

Oh. What's it like?

Another one of these "Earth" variations that the Crossroads souls feel so keen on making.

Really? Hm.

It's not the same time as the others, though.

By how much?

... About [REDACTED]. They'd say forty-five years.

Tell me what's so special about it.

There's this one man, he wears a skull like Houndoom on his head. And he can control space in a limited manner. Transformations and such.

But why the Torn is it so special?!

Be quiet. Giratina wouldn't like to hear you swear on her realm.

Alright. But please tell-

There are nine sets of clones. They were nine separate people. They have the same backstories, the same lives, they even lived in the same places - but with a glitch in space-time that I noticed some point ago... [REDACTED], in fact... They separated into different entities and now fight each other over... gravel. Of all things.

This world? Why this one?

Because of the glitch. You know how I love a good glitch in the very fabric of what we created, it's fun seeing the results. Also, many smaller deviations branch off and join to the Crossroads, copies of the whole that the Crossroads souls perhaps modified to fit their... let me see... headcanons, they call them.

Head cannons? What the Torn?

THEORIES THEY INVENTED, YOU IMBECILE.

... Oh.

Heh heh... Let's mess with them.

Why?

Because it'll be fun.

What will you do? Modify their bodies?

Why not?

You should really be careful, though. You don't want a repeat of that Nanite incident.

Ugh... never. Never. For anything. Of course.

Alright, I'll do the modification, you speed up the change.

Sure.


The RED Sniper stretched in his perch as the Announcer broadcast their victory. It felt nice, winning. He could already hear Scout's whoops and Soldier's triumphant bellowing that "THE TEAM DID A GOOD JOB" and "WE WILL CELEBRATE TONIGHT". Heavy's minigun suddenly spat a few rounds into some unfortunate BLU that was caught in humiliation.

Sniper sheathed his kukri in his quiver and walked down the hidden pathways to the Resupply room of Teufort. Heavy lumbered in with his gore-spattered minigun and a yellow helmet in hand. So he'd gotten the Engineer. As the rest of the team filed in, an electronic buzz signaled the start of ceasefire.

"'Hey Legs!" Scout called, sprinting to Sniper and clapping him on the back. "Thanks for gettin' dat cyclops for me! I'd-a been sent to Respawn for sure! That's fifteen minutes of pain I do not want to go through."

Sniper smiled. "It happens to all of us, mate. Although that doesn't make it any more fun."

Scout tweaked his hat and flicked off a sliver of bloody cloth. "Yeah, yeah. I know, jeez. I dibs on the first showers!" he called, sprinting down the hallway suddenly and almost slamming into the far wall when he tried to turn a corner. Sniper smiled and shook his head. There was no real need to 'get first showers' as they all had an open shower anyway. Maybe he wanted the hot water or the soap. Not that he would hold it without an iron grip if Spy was ever around.

After all the classes had washed the day's blood, soot and grime off themselves, Engineer and Pyro went about making dinner. Some kind of roast. Engineer had volunteered them both to go after Demo on Medic's cooking and cleaning roster, due to the Scot's unfortunate habit of making every dish look and taste like haggis no matter what he set out to cook in the first place.

Sniper walked into the kitchen and sniffed the air, the smell of cooking meat and salt and potatoes wafting throughout the room. His mouth watered. "Hey mate, how long d'ya think it'll take to make?" Sniper asked Engie.

"Howdy Slim... maybe an hour. We got four chickens, two bags-a potatoes - you know how much food we all pack away after a good round," Engie grinned and watched Pyro slide another tray into the oversized oven and then pause; the heating elements were a beautiful, glowing red. "There's some vegetables here that need doing. Think ya could help me with those? Come on Pyro, you can't stand there forever, the heat'll escape." Pyro huffed in indignation but closed the oven door anyway.

Sniper grinned back at his friend and walked to the kitchen bench. "Sure thing, mate. Whaddya want me to do?"

Engineer handed Sniper a knife and chopping board and said, "Just cut these up into manageable chunks," pointing to some carrots and eggplants. "Pyro and I'll do the pumpkin."

"Mmrph mrph mrufmurr, hudda!" Pyro said enthusiastically, clapping its hands together and trotting to the bench to help with its task. They began work in amicable silence, with the occasional exchanged word of advice or check on the chickens to pour the oil in the trays back over the top to keep them moist. The work, despite being with food, kept Sniper's mind off his stomach, however Scout did not have anything to stave off his hunger and had to be shooed out of the kitchen every now and again.

Finally, a little more than the estimated hour passed and the food was ready. Pyro called out to the waiting team, who didn't understand a single word but got the gist of it. Heavy roared enthusiastically, Scout groaned out 'finally' among other unprintable words and Soldier bellowed out how it "TOOK THEM LONG ENOUGH TO MAKE A SIMPLE DINNER".

All grumblings were forgotten when Demo procured some beers from nowhere and freely handed them out. The smell of roast food and beer filled the room and the enthusiastic, drunken, multi-lingual singing of Demo, Heavy, Medic, Soldier and Scout succeeded in lifting the roof off the base.

It was a good night.

Sniper trudged to his campervan well towards midnight, Engineer and Pyro telling him he didn't have to help with the washing up and that he could bunker down. Well, Engie did most of the talking and Pyro did most of the friendly gesturing. Either way, Sniper got some much-wanted rest, as tomorrow would hold another fight.

Sniper took off his vest, shoes, sunglasses, and Akubra before clambering into the tiny bed in his van, the combination of chirping crickets, good food and general exhaustion lulling him to sleep almost instantly.

Somewhere in another dimension two snickering deities started their work.


What are nanites? Maybe it's because all my fics happen in the same universe, ie. they happen in the same space-time line. Crossroads = IRL because all the other worlds we create join up here, amirite? :D

Thanks to ChaosAndMayhem for beta!