September 16th, 1978. Dustbowl Rocket Station.

A friendly uprising within the ranks had been started by a BLU pyro. The procession, led now by a Scout, danced past an uncapped control point. (After all, there was no real need to capture). As they danced, the sound of the Russian melody "Soldier of Dance" filled the air, played by an unseen orchestra.
For years, they had been fighting a pointless war against RED team.
Now, they just wanted a break.
They marched on, merrily.
Even the more serious members of the team had decided to lighten up a bit, and join in the dance.

As they danced, their music filled the entirety of what was, minutes earlier, a battlefield.
However, this moment was very short-lived, as this affair had not gone unnoticed by the other team, whose view of "friendlies" was anything but accepting.
A RED Soldier had noticed their parade, and was closing in on them.
He headed in their direction, loaded up his "Air-Strike" Rocket Propelled Grenade Launcher, and peeked around the corner of a cement wall.
The moment he saw them, he took aim, and applied a slight pressure with his right index finger to the trigger of his Rocket Launcher, sending a rocket flying towards the unwary dancers.

The heavy, whom the others referred to as "hoovy" was the first to notice. Quickly, he stood up, threw his sandvich toward his fellow friendlies, and ducked for cover.
The rocket whizzed past the Scout's head, and headed towards a BLU Medic, whose back was turned to the events transpiring around the corner.

The rocket struck the BLU medic in the right shoulder-blade, shattering the bone on impact. This, however, was the least of his problems, as the force of the collision triggered a mechanism in the rocket, causing it to explode, taking the friendly Medic with it.
The Scout was blasted against a wall by the force of the rocket.
He grabbed the sandvich that Hoovy had left, and ran to join him in the respawn room.
The Medic vanquished, his friends fled in terror from the Soldier.

The BLU Pyro, who had started the friendly uprising, fired 3 shots at the Soldier, forcing him to run to a healthpack.
Then, they retreated back to the base, where the rest of their team had fled.

A minute passed.

Now, BLU team sat in wait.
The Pyro stood by the gate, ready to airblast any rockets back at the enemy.
The Hoovy, defenseless without the Medic, waited with the Scout, inside the spawn.

Outside, they could hear the enemy soldier calling "GIVE 'EM HELL, BOYS!"
There was a RED demoman, too.
"Ayy, stop hidin' like a bunch 'a bloody cowards!"

"Augh, this stinks." said the BLU Demo.
"Headcount! Everyone line up." said the BLU Soldier.

The BLU team lined up out in front of the Resupply room.
"Let's see. Medic's dead, Heavy, Pyro, Sniper, Engie, Demo, Scout, you're all here..." Soldier counted them off. "Where is our Spy?!"

The sound of a car's ignition filled the air.

"Come on!" called a familiar French voice. "We don't have all day, gentlemen!"
The team turned, to see the BLU Spy sitting in the driver's seat of a camper-van, belonging to Mr. Mundee, the Sniper.
"GNEAAAH!" said Mr. Mundee, frantically checking his pockets. "How the bloody hell'd 'ya get my keys?!"
"I would give you ze explanation worthy of Sherlock Holmes himself, but right now, we have another problem!"
A voice played over the loudspeaker system that had been set up by Mann Co.

"ALERT. Mission ends in thirty seconds."

Everyone on BLU knew what that meant. In thirty seconds, unless they decided to abandon their friendly ways and capture the control point, their Mann Co. Issued Mercenary Weapons would lock up, effectively rendering them defenseless from the RED team, who had proven themselves to be merciless killers.

"Well don't just stand there!" shouted Dell Conagher, the BLU Engineer, running towards the van with a toolbox in his arms.
"Move out! Move out!" called the BLU Soldier, following Dell.
The rest of the team climbed into the back of the camper, except for the Sniper, who insisted on sitting in the front to make sure that The Spy did not sap his radio.
They drove off just as the timer hit zero, and the enemy team charged into their spawn, only to find they were a bit late.

But enough of these Mercs.

We now shift our focus to another location, equally important to the story: a small house in the slums of Teufort, where a second-rate Eldrich Sorcerer had been watching the mercenaries through a crystal ball.
A smirk spread across his face, which was hidden by a dark grey scarf.
Merasmus had been waiting a long time for this opportunity.

Normally, the BLU Medic was more careful. He stayed out of the line of fire, and only pushed the objective if he had a full Übercharge ready to deploy if things got rough.
But now, Medic had let his guard down, and paid the price.

Merasmus had been planning, for years, what he would do if he ever got his hands on Medic's remains.

Merasmus grabbed the Bombinomicon, a market gardener's shovel and a wheel-barrel, and teleported, without delay, to the Dustbowl Rocket Station.

The afternoon air was hot and dry, and nothing moved on the battlefield.

A single dove stood perched on the roof of a building. It flew away when Merasmus noticed its presence.
Merasmus looked around, and spotted the pile of ash and bone that once was the BLU Medic.
He rolled the wheel-barrel over to the spot, and began to shovel the remains.
From behind him, he heard the sound of a Spy's cloak deactivating.

He turned around, to see the RED spy leaning against the wall, twiddling a cigarette between his fingers.

"Looking for something, gentleman?"
"Agh!" said Merasmus, startled. He recovered himself, and then turned to face the Spy.
"You! Mortal fool! Do not meddle in the affairs of a wizard!"
"Oh. then I suppose you won't be needing zis?" the Spy moved to the left, revealing a Medi-gun that he had been standing in front of.
"Ah, um. I... Well..."
"I am curious. Tell me, what exactly are you up to, Monsieur Merasmus?"
"Oh, nothing... Nothing... Please give me the medi-gun."
"Nothing, you say. You teleport in after ze end of a battle, you are shoveling ze BLU Medic's ashes into a wheel-barrel, you want me to give you ze medi-gun. You are most definitely up to something, and I would like to know, before you plan to unleash it on us."
"Oh, no, not that. I just want the medi-gun for an experiment... It's... for my garden. I'm going to... yes! I'm going to Übercharge the fertilizer, and see what happens!

The Spy was not amused.
"Everything you just said was obviously a lie." he said, frankly. "However, I really must get going, and my team has no use for a BLU Medi-gun, so here. Go make yourself some Eldrich Clusterf***, gentlemen. All I ask is that you don't come running to me when it comes crashing down on your head zis Halloween."

The RED spy tossed the medi-gun on the ground in front of Merasmus, who picked it up, and placed it in the wheel-barrel.
"You're welcome." said the Spy, walking off toward his team's spawn.
Um, Thank you!" said Merasmus.

Merasmus took the wheel-barrel, and rolled it back towards Teufort in the last light of the evening.
He briefly sifted through the wheel barrel, making sure he had gotten as much of the BLU Medic as possible.

Everything looked to be in order.

As he headed home, he fantasized about the long-deserved fame he would finally achieve, if this plan succeeded.
The Medic was only step one...

Merasmus quickened his pace; he wanted to be home before the witching hour, when he would perform the ritual.