This story takes place right after Engie gets his codename but before Snippy's mugspection.
"Zis is a rather nice place you found for us, Pilot." Captain was wandering through the rooms of their new base, admiring the architecture or rather what was left of it and nodding once in a while.
"And look, Captain, what a nice view this room has." Pilot was following him, pointing out the benefits of the place rather eagerly.
"There is a giant crack in that outer wall, several rooms have only half a roof and I saw a hole in the bathroom floor, directly behind the door, somebody is just bound to fall in there at night, probably me! And everything is at ground level! How are we supposed to defend that? What if that creepy stalker comes back?" Snippy was getting angry again. That man seemed to be always angry about something. If he even needed a reason for it, it was probably due to those two other morons never listening to any of his warnings, and the warnings admittedly made some sense this time. Maybe it was the way he was pointing out all those flaws in their planning, that made Seven and Pilot simply want to ignore him. Typcal idiots' way of thinking, Engie, formerly known as Dr. Alexander Gromov concluded.
He had put down the heavy bags full of Captain's shoes at the entrance, sat down on a chair that didn't look like it would crumble in an instant under his weight and tried to stay out of that whole silly argument. Good base or bad base it wasn't his problem, it was Snippy's problem. Gromov wasn't willing to carry those shoes any further today and Seven's luck would protect this place and his 'minions' against all stupid odds anyway.
The argument swiftly moved on to other topics. Now it was about, who would get which room. Pilot was suggesting, that Snippy should sleep in the bathtube and the sniper was suggesting the dog kennel for Pilot. Captain waved both suggestions away, since the bathtube was for all minions to use -Sure! Fat chance, anyone wanting to take a bath in half frozen water.- and the house obviously not having such a thing as a dog kennel in the first place.
"Whatever! I'll just sleep on the couch as always!" Snippy finally shouted.
"Which couch?" Pilot asked innocently.
The sniper looked around.
"Oh! You little...! You did that on purpose, right? You looked for the only place in the whole town, that doesn't have a couch, just so I would have to sleep on the floor!"
"Feel free to try the shoe rack, you slimy sneaker!" Pilot smugly responded.
"Enough of zat, minions! Zee Captain sais this place wont do like zis. Eet has some mayor flaws! First off Pilot! You will build us a dog kennel at once!"
"Yes, Captain, sir!" Pilot darted out of the door to complete his new mission.
"And Mr. Snippy, you will go find a couch! Try to find one of those neat red ones and make sure there is no bubblegum under the cushions, smallchange is okay, though!"
"You seriously expect me to fetch a couch? How am I supposed to transport it, all alone?"
Gromov mentally cringed: Don't say it! Don't say it! Don't say it!
"Engie will be helping you of course! And while you are out there, look for more bathtubes, I have... plans for them!"
- Crap! -
Gromov didn't want to carry couches, he didn't want to look for bathtubes either, he didn't even want to be out there! Being out there meant being away from Seven's luck, it meant being out there with that mentally unstable, armed, angry ANNET-hater.
-There is no chance he knows, who I am, right?-
Gromov had avoided speaking with Charles Snippy the former tourguide, since he had joined Seven's little collection of madmen.
Good thing the Captain had mentioned the name of the sniper, before the engineer was able to say anything suicidal, like introducing himself with his real name for example. Since then he had been double cautious. Always keeping the mask and the goggles on. That wouldn't look suspicious, there was the constant threat of radiation after all. Would the sniper be able to identify his voice? The chance was low, the gasmask was effectively altering the sound. Yet, Gromov had given several interviews and spoken in a few talkshows, back when the ANNET was going online. The ex-tourguide might recognize a speech pattern, or the russian accent, so better not talking to him at all!
The problem was, that this was only a temporary solution. Gromov would have to talk with Snippy sooner or later. And one day the man would find out, who was hiding behind that rediculous codename of 'Engie' and then,... well, Gromov hoped, that until then he would have proven himself to be an irreplaceable member of this group. Maybe then the sniper would not instantly shoot him.
So now they set out, looking for a red couch without bubblegum but with smallchange, oh, and bathtubes of course probably still for the trafficlight war.
-I should have stayed in my bunker! Who cares about oxygen-pump failures? Breathing is overrated anyway!- .
Engie was basically trotting along after the sniper and watching him.
Making no noise when moving, always finding the spots to step on, where he would leave no tracks, not showing any signs of exhaustion at all, while Gromov was out of breath after a couple of minutes already. That man was outright frightening! And it was surprising how sane he seemed. Hadn't Gromov actually known, what Charles Snippy was like, before the apocalypse, he would never have guessed. Back then, he had looked into a few of those therapy session protocols for the 1%, hoping to find a clue as of why some people seemed to unconsciously reject the ANNET.
Charles Snippy turned out being incredibly pessimistic and further into the sessions more and more aggressive, refractory and paranoid, even implying, that the therapist was nothing more than a cheap computer program, the G-Directorate had set up for cases like his, to pretend that they cared. That Snippy was absolutely correct with his preposterous assumption, didn't mean the man wasn't paranoid. Aside from those annoying letters, this was the main reason for sending a drone after him for nonstop monitoring.
All of those traits of insanity were still there, barely hidden even. Nevertheless they seemed to have toned down from 'gonna get my hands on explosives and blow something up, soon' to an almost... moderate level. Maybe a few hours of extra sleep a day did have a positive effect after all?
It seemed that Pilot had indeed went out of his way to locate the only house without a couch. There were couches all over the place, just no red ones. They had considered just taking a red davenport, they found in one of the old office buildings. But upon further inspection, they discovered, that there were so many wads of old, frozen bubblegum stuck under it, that even the sniper felt disgusted.
Finally as if it was an answer to their silent prayers, they spotted a red sofa in a shop's display. Well maybe it had been bleached by whatever was left of sunlight and weather and was rather pink than actually red, but it would have to do.
They tried lifting it.
It weighed a freaking ton!
There was no way they would be able to move it without a damn forklift!
"It's ice!" the sniper finally stated.
The engineer cast him a questioning gaze.
"This thing must have been soaked with water after the display window broke, and now it's frozen over. If we can melt the ice and dry it somehow, we might be able to lift it."
-So I have the choice between either wasting another few hours of my life with searching for red upholstered furniture or helping a lunatic with cooking a couch?-
After a second of consideration, Engie decided for the lesser evil and helped gathering firewood.