Team Universe
Wow, I REALLY did not like writing this one. Not only is describing the setting my absolute worst field when it comes to writing, but I also had a ton of stuff irl to deal with. And then breaks down when I'm finishing up and I lose all of my progress.
Yeah, that's fine, whatever. Didn't need to have a nervous breakdown or anything but eh.
Hopefully future updates won't take much longer than this one, but I can't guarantee that. Shit just happens, you know?
Anyways, enough about me. Thanks for putting up with me and staying loyal despite my brief hiatus! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Author's note at the bottom.
Now, let's take a step back and have some chill time with the mercenaries. Time to check out the nine's home away from home and base of operations; The Fortress!
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or locations portrayed in this work; all characters and concepts belong to their original owners. Cover art belongs to the amazing Ace Florins.
Now loading… achievement_thefortress
If one were to ask any resident of Beach City (politicians notwithstanding) what the most prominent feature of their small, homely, ocean-side town is, they would almost all agree that it was the giant statue of an eight-armed woman meticulously carved into the side of a beachside cliff. Some historians of the town had theorized that the statue had existed for thousands of years, and they would be correct in their assessment. Decrepit and aging, the imposing sculpture is not as amazing as it was in ages past, yet it still strikes wonder and amazement into all who witnessed it. As huge as the cliff itself, staring out to the horizon where the sky meets the sea, and standing strong against coastal weather for millennia; it is no wonder that humans were amazed and intimidated by its visage. This was spoiled by the introduction of Steven's beach house into the arms of the giantess, but not much.
However, the statue itself was the least amazing part of the cliff, and only a few individuals understood what the statue helped conceal. From the time of its inception, the statue served merely as an easily-identifiable landmark for the beings who resided within. At the center of the great carving, where a beach house was nestled in her arms, was the truly amazing part. A great, smooth door, with a five-pointed star and five gemstones etched into the crystalline face. Behind the door, where only a handful of people could open, lay an entirely new world. You see, the statue was actually the external portion of the great Crystal Temple; a many-roomed home away from home for the Crystal Gems. Relying on Gem magic, the Temple itself existed within a pocket dimension where the normal rules of Earth physics didn't exactly apply. The many rooms and passageways of the Temple were constantly changing and almost always expanding, sometimes with and sometimes without its creators' explicit instruction. Truly, the Crystal Temple was a place that baffled the mind and confused the senses; one would have to be of strong mind and will to avoid being swept away in its wonder.
Thankfully, however, that is not where the majority of this story takes place.
For within the statute's arms, near the entrance to the Crystal Temple, was a second door. A far cry from the crystalline, smooth and artistic Temple door, this second door was made completely out of a tough, nigh-impenetrable metal polished to a perfect chromatic shine. At the door's center there was a red insignia painted into the metal. The insignia resembled a circular reticle cut into four equal pieces and spaced slightly apart from each other. While the Temple door had no visible splits, hinges or locks, one could clearly see the two very large and very strong dual-locking bracers that kept unwanted guests out.
If one were to look at the crystalline room and the door to the Crystal Temple, one would most likely say that this metallic door seemed very much out of place in its setting. And they would be correct in that statement as well; the second door indeed clashed visually with the rest of the Crystal Temple. But then again, that was because it was never a part of the original design to begin with. It was added to the architecture (but not without much protesting from a certain pale Gem) during the early 1970's when the Crystal Gems added nine individuals to their team. Having lost favor with their previous employers, and for want of necessary communication between the two groups (Gems didn't really use human technology at this time), the nine needed a new place of residence. Rose Quartz offered the idea of allowing them to set up shop within their Temple, since it was technically their fault that the nine were out of a job in the first place. Additionally, it was becoming increasingly clear that the Gems' normal way of approaching a problem wasn't always the most effective; a capable crew of humans who were well versed in the strangeness of their world and very experienced in the art of warfare/fighting huge-ass monsters would be a welcome addition to Rose Quartz's merry band of misfits. The mercenaries provided an excellent contrast to the Gems in many ways; where they were powerful in close quarters combat, the mercenaries excelled in mid to long-range fighting. When the Gems' plans and ways of thinking failed, the mercs were more than eager to step up and try their own brand of crazy-with varying degrees of success. The Gems were the tried-and-true methods that had worked for years, and the mercenaries were the new, radical ideas that urged the Gems into the future. Seeing that they were not only needed by the Gems, but also wanted, the mercenaries had little trouble accepting Rose's offer. After much planning, gathering of tools and materials and setting up a fence to keep the more 'normal' humans away, construction began on The Fortress; a massive undertaking that would eventually result in a large, many-roomed complex that housed the mercenaries and all of their weaponry with plenty of space to set up laboratories and hat storage containers. Thanks to Mann Co.'s own pocket dimension technology-while inferior to that of the Gems', was still very effective-the physical space that The Fortress took up was much smaller than the actual volume of the structure.
This was great because, like the Crystal Temple, The Fortress was incredibly expansive. Travelling to every individual room of the structure on foot, including all maintenance areas, would take at least a full day. Luckily, a certain Texan gearhead had the perfect invention to shorten travel time between points, and was more than happy to share it.
It is this very inventor that we now turn to. Engineer is currently in a small workstation just off of his main room. The workstation was a sight bigger than perhaps a normal, one-person room, but this particular station was made to house up to ten different projects at once. A series of soft fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, casting their glow into the room. Corkboards covered almost every wall with blueprints, adjustments and personal notes were tacked up in a clear, organized fashion. Toolkits (which held actual tools instead of pre-constructed buildings) littered the area, some open with several of their contents missing. Multiple worktables were set up against the walls, each one laden with partially dismantled/assembled weapons, deactivated or broken perimeter cameras, miniature transmission towers or some other piece of technology. On one particular end of the room, a holographic projector lay inactive on the floor; Engineer not requiring its services as of yet. Like every other room in The Fortress and indeed like everything else created by the mercenaries, there was a splash of red coloring. In this instance, the walls of the workstation were painted a deep burgundy. Many would consider the dark shade of dried blood to be somewhat unsettling.
The Texan found it to be both oddly calming and thought-provoking. Engineer himself was seated in a rotating, wheeled chair and hunched over a workbench. Several tools lay discarded around his space on the table, some of which were far too complicated and advanced to detail in writing.
But rest assured; they were pretty futuristic and cool-looking.
Engineer sets down one of these very tools that he was using and leans back to admire his handiwork. Steven's very own cheeseburger backpack sits there on the metal surface, looking very much not at all any different than when Steven had been gallivanting around the Lunar Sea Spire with it two days ago. However, the mark of master inventor was not in their device's ability to look amazing. Rather, their proof of genius lay in their creation's ability to do something amazing.
Deciding to test if his methods had worked on this template (they never failed before, but it didn't hurt to check), Engineer withdrew one of his many shotguns from his pocket. He then unzipped the middle pocket of the backpack-the meat-and stuffed the long weapon in barrel-first. Instead of hitting the bottom of the backpack, as the backpack was not originally designed to carry something so long, Engineer kept moving the weapon further in until his whole arm up to his shoulder was inside the pack.
Smiling at his success in modifying the custom backpack, Engineer withdrew his limb from the cheeseburger's pocket dimension and put his shotgun away. The Texan re-zipped the backpack, turned it around, and set it back on table so that it was standing up with the sesame-seed bun facing outwards. Engineer stood up from his seat, stretched, and sighed contentedly.
"That's a good deed done," The inventor remarked before pulling out his tablet and flicking it on, "Now let's see here…" Engineer scrolled through the menu of options before finally clicking the 'Memos' app, opening into a virtual to-do list that was marked with today's date. The hard-hatted gentleman tapped the checkbox labeled 'Upgrade Steven's Cheeseburger Backpack (return when able)' and looked down at the next item on his list.
"'Hand Out Emergency One-Man Teleporters To Team,'" Engineer reads aloud before shrugging, "Well, I guess I'll do that then."
Taking but a few extra seconds to put his tools back where they belonged and move the toolbox back to its proper place on a nearby shelf, the Texan turns off his workstation's light as he exits the door, satisfied to hear the bio-lock automatically engage. Engineer then proceeds to walk through his room and head for the teleporter.
To those who knew Engineer well, they were aware that the mercenary had always thought of himself as just as much of a Texan as a genius, even if the two were not usually next to each other on one's list of traits. As such, the Southerner's room was reflected to show just that.
The walls, floor and ceiling of his personal quarters appeared to be constructed from a dark, rich wood, but were actually fabricated from a facsimile that the Texan had created himself. They appeared to be simple wooden boards, yet they also repelled fire, were bulletproof, and were harder to blow up than bank vault doors. To add insult to injury, when an intruder was discovered within Engineer's private quarters, several sections of the walls, floor, and ceiling burst open to reveal hidden Sentry Guns.
And that wasn't even talking about the room's decorations; everything within the dwelling seemed to have a bit of a Southern flair to it. Engineer's wardrobe was immaculately built and expertly carved; when opened, a full-body mirror would unfold from the inside of the door and holographically project the look Engineer would have upon selecting a certain clothing item or hat. The bed could expand, contract, and fold in on itself should Engineer feel like reading blueprints or his tablet before bed. At the top of the bedpost were the two horns taken from a prized Longhorn Steer, perched in an impressive fashion. Rugs with stereotypical depictions of Southern landmarks, objects, and actions were strewn about the floor in a pattern that made sense only to the Texan. On one end of the room a large monitoring station sat before an even larger array of screens. Engineer's homemade supercomputer could crack the Pentagon electronic security system within seconds-about a minute, if the Texan felt like being stealthy-and was completely untraceable. Around the room were various other knick-knacks that happened to be of particular personal value to Engineer; including his prized guitar. Oh, the Texan had fond memories with that instrument; holding late-night barbeques with his whole team and leading the musical numbers, playing along in a mock-up band with the Gems and the rest of the mercenaries (those who knew how to play instruments, anyway), teaching Steven how to play on his smaller but no less charming ukulele, bashing in the brains of a particularly annoying enemy Spy with it…ah, memories.
Engineer steps over to the dormant teleporter in his room and reactivates it, turning off privacy mode for a few seconds. All of the mercenaries had teleporters in their personal quarters to provide them with a quick path to the outside should the Temple be under attack. They also served an additional purpose as an escape plan should the Fortress end up besieged and the mercenaries were cut off from the individual rooms. Of course, having a teleporter in one's private quarters could lead to embarrassing encounters should someone happen to pop in at an inopportune time. Therefore, Engineer had coded the mercenaries' personal teleporters with the option to set them into a 'privacy mode' where only the room's main occupant could disengage the setting. The Texan himself had an override code should the worst come to pass, and unlike some other members of their team, the mercenaries could trust him to look out for their wellbeing. While in privacy mode, the teleporter remains dormant and nobody can use that particular device as their destination.
Engineer selects his point of travel and steps onto the device, disappearing from his room in a flash of red light. He reappears a picosecond later at his destination; a lone teleporter in a small corridor only a few steps away from a door. Of course, when creating the teleporters with privacy mode, Engineer set up a second teleporter outside of every mercenary's room (too many things go wrong with these people to not have a rather high degree of redundancy) that can be used to teleport just outside a teammate's room in case privacy mode was enacted.
While Medic rarely ever initiates that particular function on his teleporter, Engineer believes that it would be rude to just show up in his teammates' rooms. The Texan-trailing a few red particles he picked up in the teleport stream-walks over to the windowless metal door leading to the doctor's room and presses the doorbell. In a few moments, the door slides open.
"Come in!" Medic's voice calls from inside. Engineer takes the invitation and steps through the threshold into the German's room.
The doctor's dwelling was a bit higher than most other rooms in the fortress; Medic had always preferred a higher position for some reason that Engineer couldn't really understand. But then again, the Texan had always enjoyed the sound of beeping and clanking machines that the others found irksome-that's why his room was in the lower levels-so who was he to judge? The ceiling was formed of a chrome-polished metal and the lights were a bit harsher here than in the rest of the Fortress; Medic always did like things bright. The walls were concrete, painted a pristine white with Medic's trademark red cross symbol emblazoned on the far wall. Filing cabinets lined one wall, each one filled with the medical information of every member of their team (Gems and Steven included) in order to provide a basis for which to gauge deviations in physical health. Medic's wardrobe was made of metal instead of wood like Engineer's, and didn't really appear outstanding. In truth, Medic preferred a very function-over-form lifestyle; he didn't have many outstanding possessions that he coveted (aside from his doves and hats of course), and all of his precious medical devices usually spent their time in either the Infirmary or attached to his back. The doctor's bed was similarly spare; red-on-white sheets never seemed to be very practical to Engineer, but it was Medic's choice after all. There was a small bookshelf next to his bed, filled with as many medical books as it was with horrible human experiments gone wrong (the German had already brought several of the tales to life on his operating table). Medic had a few trinkets scattered around the room; a bust of Hippocrates, his treasured violin, a small feeding area for his birds, and so on. Truthfully, most of Medic's personality was represented in his work; he very much enjoyed his time in the operating room-more than anyone should-and always said that his room was merely just a place to rest his head. A computer was set up in a desk on the side of the room near the filing cabinets-it wasn't as large as Engineer's, but it never needed to be. Medic himself was seated at that very desk, messing with some small device in his hands. Several of his doves were perched on the top of the desk and were looking down at their master in intrigue. The doctor looked over his shoulder a few seconds after opening the door and smiled when he saw the Texan.
"Ah, Herr Engineer! Zhis is an unexpected surprise. Vhat brings you up here?" The German asked.
"Mornin', doc'," Engineer said with a tip of his ever-present hardhat, "Just wanted to drop off a little something that might help us in the future. I've handin' 'em out to everyone just in case."
Medic scratched his chin, "Truly? Vhat did you have in mind?"
"Well-Actually, am I interruptin' ya? You seem to be working pretty hard on somethin' there."
"Oh, bah," Medic said with a wave of his hand, "Just trying to get ahead on our project in my spare time."
Engineer frowned, "Doc, I can appreciate your dedication to your work, but ya' really shouldn't spend all of your time messin' around with that contraption and ending up nowhere. That kinda stuff could drive a man…" The Texan drifts off when he realizes just exactly what he is saying.
Medic, on the other hand, smirks and quirks an eyebrow at him, "It could drive a man insane?" He teases, "Oh, how tragic! Could you just imagine zhe chaos a crazy person could cause-"
"Alright," Engineer interrupts and points a finger at the doctor, "Poor choice of words, but my point still stands. Ya' should do something else for a bit."
"Ja, ja, I suppose you are correct," Medic relents, sighing slightly as he turns to look at his teammate with a dry expression, "Vhat is it you vanted to drop off anyvay?"
By way of response, Engineer pulls out his PDA and presses a specific combination into the device. A small toolkit warps into existence at his feet in a flash of red light. The Texan picks up the kit and holds it out to Medic, "Keep this in your bag."
The doctor accepts the toolkit with a look of confusion, turning the small container around to view it from different angles. He eventually looks back up to Engineer, "…Vhy are you giving me zhis? I am a man of science, true, but usually vhen it applies to living beings. I don't see zhe point of me having one of your…" Medic trails off as he stares at the container in confusion.
"It's a teleporter."
"See? I cannot even tell your machines apart vhen zhey are in zhese containers!"
Engineer chuckled at the doctor's consternation, "Then I'll explain. Ya remember how we wanted to send Steven back home during that time at the Sea Spire?"
"Ja…"
"Well, that got me thinking; 'What the heck are we gonna do if Steven's with us when we get into a real fight?' That little skirmish at the top of the Spire wasn't anythin' we couldn't handle-even without the gals-but there's a lotta crap that can happen during those cases. One wayward bullet or grenade ain't a big deal to us, we're tougher than most. Heck, even if the thing does kill us, we'll just respawn anyways. But to Steven…"
"A stray bullet or rocket could very vell mean death," Medic finished, looking uncharacteristically serious and slightly frightened, "True death, as ve do not understand if he can regenerate or not."
Death was…an odd topic for the mercenaries. Technically they had died literally thousands of times already, but were brought back from 'wherever' due to the miraculous piece of technology known as the Respawn Device. The only way Team Fortress would ever experience true death was if the respawner was damaged beyond any form of repair, but that was a very slim possibility to begin with. Not only was the device kept in the deepest, most secure area of the Fortress, but it also had three of the smartest people on the world to help manage it. Anything less than total nuclear annihilation, the Respawn Device could come back from. Therefore, the mercenaries treated their death very much like how the Gems treated regeneration periods; inconsequential at best, and a minor annoyance at worst.
However, this did not make them insensitive to the concept of true death; a death that one cannot come back from. If anything it made them more sensitive to it. True, they were incredibly tough to kill, but other humans were not; most humans were actually very fragile. This might not have been a problem for the mercenaries-they did kill people for a living, and everyone they were really close to was just as difficult to kill as themselves-had it not been for a single human.
Greg Universe was the catalyst that set many events into motion, not the least of which was the birth of Steven Universe, a boy that they all love and care for deeply (despite how Scout tries to deny it). After he tore down the chain link fence that kept the Gems' home separate from the rest of Beach City, the residents were drawn to the strange statue and its inhabitants. In a different life, the Gems may have continued to alienate themselves from humanity; with the obvious exception of their human-centric leader. However, the addition of several humans to their lineup made evasion no longer possible. The mercenaries served as a type of bridge between Gems and humans. They already were pretty good friends with the Gems, but it didn't sound so bad to actually get to speak with other humans from time to time. As a result, the Gems were a bit more integrated into human society and weren't quite as elusive as strange as they may have been.
Of course, this also had the unintended effect of having the mercenaries confront their nigh immortality once again. It was different than the times the mercenaries lost their families (those who had families anyway); many of them were only children, or in Scout's case the youngest sibling, so they already knew they would outlive their loved ones under normal circumstances. But seeing children and teenagers grow into full adults while they remained the same put death into perspective for the mercenaries. It was even worse when Rose Quartz made her decision to sacrifice herself to bring a child into this world. The declaration was unexpected, yet not unable to be dealt with; the mercenaries were actually faster to accept her decision than the Gems were.
Then Greg had his accident, and the mercenaries were hit with a sudden realization; that could happen to Steven.
Steven wasn't a full Gem, so it was impossible to determine if he could regenerate should his body suffer too much trauma. Similarly, since he wasn't a full human, the mercenaries couldn't program his DNA into the Respawn Device should the worst come to pass-even if they could, the device wasn't guaranteed to work outside of the nine individuals it was originally designed for.
Accidents happen all the time, and while the mercenaries were better at avoiding the more normal incidents, their battlefields were wrought with hundreds of conditions where death would be an unavoidable outcome. The mercenaries treated their deaths as an inconvenience, but to Steven, death would be permanent.
Realizing this, Team Fortress flat-out stated that Steven was not allowed to come on operations regarding robotic invasions. Unlike most fights with Gems monsters which only one or a very few amount of creatures to keep track of, Gray sent in robots by the hundreds. It would be impossible to keep track of every danger to Steven in the middle of a battle; enemy Snipers and Spies were only the two most dangerous with their ability to attack from long range/sneak up undetected.
They had gotten lucky at the Spire by encountering only a small scouting force, but what if Gray were to send a complete invasion complement during the middle of a routine mission? It had happened before; it'd be stupid to think it wouldn't happen again.
Engineer had said as much to Medic, "So, in the interest of keeping Steven out of harm's way, everyone is going to carry a one-man teleporter from now on. Since they default to the teleporter at home, all ya have to do is open this latch," The Texan indicated a small metal hitch on his toolbox, "And wait till the thing sets itself up. Then we just toss Steven onto the thing and blow it up once he's through to make sure nothing follows him. Make sense?"
Medic, propping his chin up in thought, nods in understanding, "It's a very good concept and an excellent escape plan should a mission end up sidevays…" The doctor looks at the toolkit in his arms with an expression of thoughtfulness, "Out of curiosity, can zhese be programmed to teleport to different locations?"
"Absolutely. The things just default to home so we can focus on fighting rather than setting them up. Heck, we can use them as a destination once they're built; they just need to be configured properly. In truth, we can probably use them a dozen different ways, but I mainly just thought that they'd act as a way to keep Steven safe."
"And vhat an excellent idea it is," Medic comments with a genuine smile, "Very vell zhen, I'll keep zhis on me just in case. I assume you're handing zhem out to everyone else?"
"Yup; I'll even give one to Pearl. She can probably keep it in her gem or somethin'," Engineer turns to exit the doctor's room when he suddenly stops and gives Medic a look, "Ya aren't gonna just stay in here and keep messing with that thing, are ya?"
Medic makes a groan of frustration as he places the packed-up teleporter in his bag, "Nein, I vill take a short break from zhis project if it makes you feel better," The doctor stands up from his chair, stretches for a moment, and then dusts himself off, "I understand zhat zhe beach house may be running low on food; perhaps I vill go to zhe grocery store and get some."
Engineer smirks as he turns to head back out the door, "Just don't go buggin' the butcher for spare animal parts. I think ya scared the last guy out of his job with your enthusiasm."
"Zhat vas one time!"
Engineer laughed at the doctor's indignant squawk and hopped onto the teleporter, heading to his next destination.
The Texan flashed into existence outside of another closed door. After taking a moment to straighten his protective headgear he approaches the door and presses the doorbell.
"Scout, if that's you again, I will personally send you to respawn and tell Steven that you fell off a bridge like the idiot you are."
Engineer, laughed at Spy's annoyed tone of voice, "Guess it's a good thing that I ain't Scout then, just your friendly resident Engineer with a delivery."
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then Spy spoke up again, "Well, at least you're marginally less annoying than that fool. Come in."
The door slid apart almost silently and Engineer marched his way into the Frenchman's room, still amused at Spy's irritability.
Just like the resident it housed, Spy's room was very high-maintenance. Intricately carved mahogany posts were attached to the walls, which were covered in a beautiful gold leaf and vine pattern on a full-red background. Facsimile gas lamps were affixed to the walls in a sense that they didn't take away from the artistic style, and the low, dim light they exuded actually added to it. There were plenty of bookshelves placed against the various walls containing a rather wide array of impressive and thought-provoking literature; everything from philosophy to culture. Being perhaps a bit more indulgent than his teammates, Spy had commissioned Engineer to install a fireplace in his room-it seemed somewhat paradoxical given how the Frenchman absolutely despised flames, but the marble brazier certainly completed the room. The heat and light it gave off complemented the otherwise low-lighting of the chamber. Of course, the smell of freshly-burned wood-and to a greater degree, cigarette smoke-was nullified by the high-tech air filters and scent negation devices Engineer had created. Without them, the smell of smoke and ash would be absolutely overpowering to anyone who ventured into the room.
Except perhaps Pyro; the firebug would probably enjoy it.
Spy had two wardrobes; one to contain his many suits, cosmetics, and stylish headwear, and a second, smaller one that held the espionage expert's various weapons and disguise kits. Unlike most everyone else, Spy kept his weapons and clothing in different containers. The Frenchman had explained that he already had devised a system for his tools and that he didn't want to disrupt it, but Engineer had always suspected that it was simply because Spy needed to maintain his Sappers more rigorously than most other equipment.
The last time the Sappers had gone too long without regular maintenance…well, that had been an interesting couple weeks, even by Team Fortress standards. It was lucky that RED and BLU managed to work out their differences until those robots were destroyed. Engineer still had no idea how two metallic life-forms were able to reproduce through intercourse…
Anyways, moving swiftly on; Spy's bed, just like the rest of his room, was very posh. A four-poster king-sized with blinds that could be drawn around the furniture in a moment's notice. Lush, billowy comforters and silk sheets decorated the memory-foam mattress. It was easily the most visually appealing part of the room, which was both odd and extremely unsettling when one realized that Spy was a master of seduction.
Best not to think too deeply about that.
A small liquor cabinet was set against the wall directly opposite the fireplace containing various types of wine, scotch, and other alcoholic beverages. Lined up in perfect order, Engineer quickly deduced that one was missing. A cursory glance to the fireplace revealed its current position. At a respectable distance from the fire Spy sat in a large, rotating chair that faced the flames. Next to the right armrest, a small table sat holding an ashtray and a half-empty bottle of liquor. From where Engineer stood, he could see only the Frenchman's extended arm as he held out a small glass and swirled the drink around lazily. Soon though, Spy turned his chair around to look at the door and took a small sip of his drink.
"Forgive my earlier outburst," Spy said, looking not-at-all apologetic, "Scout has been repeatedly bothering me for some of my spare disguise kits for at least the past few hours. I was more than ready to shoot the fool in his leg if he had turned up yet again. The only reason I didn't was because he would get blood all over the carpet."
Engineer smiled despite himself, "That ought to drive anyone nuts, given enough time. Did he say why he needed them?"
"Only that they would be used in a sort of surprise for Steven…I believe he mentioned that they would be used in some type of game," Spy took a drag from his cigarette as he recounted the memory, "Truthfully, I was more than willing to offer him a few spares, once I was certain that they were in working order, but apparently he can't remain still for more than ten seconds."
"Of course he can't, you know how he is."
"I am aware. I suppose hoping that age would mellow him out was a foolish belief…"
Engineer chuckled as he walked over to the espionage expert, "Hell, I gave up in the 1990's; Medic stopped even earlier than that."
"Weak-willed cowards, the lot of you," Spy said teasingly, giving the Texan a wry grin as he approached, "Anyways, Scout won't be getting the kits for another day; maybe longer until he finally gives up."
"Well, if nothing else, I can appreciate your willingness to try and force some manners into him, though I question your effectiveness."
Spy shrugged, "At least the wait is bothering him. I only hope that he doesn't get the idea to have Amethyst force her way in; I recall hearing that the two are collaborating on this project, and Amethyst may be worse when it comes to being patient," Spy set his glass of liquor down and snuffed out the residual flame on his spent cigarette. The Frenchman then turned to Engineer, "But enough about me, what brings you to my humble abode?"
Engineer looked around and scoffed, "Humble? Spy, I helped build this place for you; of everyone, your room took the longest to finish."
"And you never seem to shut up about it, so we're even. Now what do you want?"
Chuckling under his breath, the Texan teleported in another toolkit and gave it to Spy, explaining the purpose of the device when the Frenchman gave him a quizzical look. By the end, Spy seemed to be in thought and nodded along with Engineer's words.
"A capital idea," Spy said as he clutched the red tookit, "Honestly, we probably should have devised a system like this sooner, given how enthusiastic Steven has been as of late."
"Yeah…" Engineer said, scratching the back of his neck, "I guess it just never occurred to us even if we were trying our best to keep missions safe for Steven. But we have a plan of escape now, so no need to worry about it."
Spy nodded, "Very well; I'll keep ahold of this until the need arises," The Frenchman leaned to the side and placed the inactive teleporter on the floor next to his chair, "Was there anything else you needed?"
"Nah, that'll be all. Good luck in trying to relax with Scout bugging you."
Spy gave a slight wave to the Texan as he left his room and waited until the automatic door had shut before turning back to the fireplace. Spy lit another cigarette and took a quick puff, exhaling contently as he watched the smoke drift in the air. He opened the book he had been reading-until Engineer arrived-and found his position.
*BANG BANG BANG*
"YO FRENCHIE! OPEN UP!"
Scowling as deeply as possible, Spy set his book aside with as much care as his current fury would allow and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Merde…"
"Did he hear you?" Scout 'whispered' to Amethyst from behind the door.
"Dunno; lemme check."
*BANGBANGBANGBANG*
"SPY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"
"YES I CAN VERY WELL HEAR YOU! There is a doorbell right on the wall! Why are you pounding on the door?!"
"It's more annoying this way!" *BANG*
Spy let out a stream of violent curses; their effect lost on Scout and Amethyst since neither spoke French.
Sniper hummed to himself as he sharpened one of his many knives in a Mann Co. ion-edged sharpener, a device that promised to sharpen your blade to peak efficiency in less than ten seconds!
Like everything from their previous company, the device had at first been less-than-amazing in its performance-oh, it sharpened the blade alright, but it took longer than ten seconds to get the full benefit, and even then the blade was usually prone to shattering due to how thin the metal now was. Of course, Engineer managed to fix up the device so that it now literally edged the blade with ionic energy, allowing any sharpened blade to penetrate almost any substance. Sniper's knives were now extremely deadly-maybe not as powerful as some of the magical/cursed/high-tech weapons Pearl, Demo, Soldier and Pyro used, but vicious nonetheless. While the Australian was more than proficient in ranged combat and preferred to sit in the background, there was nothing quite like shoving a sharpened, foot-and-a-half long blade through the chest of a nosy Spy.
Hell, they were great for carving up his hunting trophies as well.
Sniper, having grown used to living in his van and adapting to close quarters, didn't really have a particularly large abode. It was actually the smallest of the mercenaries' personal quarters and one of the smaller rooms in the Fortress. That being said, Sniper didn't let any of that small space go to waste.
Almost every square inch of the pseudo wooden walls were covered up by one of the marksman's many hunting trophies. Pelts, heads, horns and feathers; it was a taxidermist's wet dream. The floor was covered in various animal-skin rugs that had been treated to perfection, so as to not allow them to decay. Sniper's bed was also covered in a mishmash of fur blankets, somehow managing to come together in an interesting pattern. The few lamps bolted to the ceiling had custom-made bulbs that cut down on the fading effect light usually had on its environment. As a result, almost every trophy Sniper had looked as colorful and lifelike as the day he had first hunted them down. The most recent of which was a hollowed-out star-patterned egg perched up on an ornate, wooden pedestal. Near his bed stood his wardrobe with such a large size that it effectively doubled as his weapons case.
Other than that, there was little else decorating the Australian's quarters. He had no books, no personal computers (aside from his phone, but every mercenary had one so they didn't really count) and no television in his room. This suited Sniper just fine; when bored and not carving out any recent trophies, the marksman usually spent his time down in the firing range in order to keep his skills sharp. He mostly liked to practice alone and yet he wasn't completely opposed to carrying on a conversation with his teammates on occasion.
Except of course when that teammate happened to be Soldier, but that was an entirely different set of circumstances on its own.
Currently though, Sniper was more than content to merely spend a couple hours out of the day sharpening his many knives and reloading his rifles. The Australian withdrew his blade from the ion sharpener-careful to not touch the metal itself as the blade was very hot-and inspected the edge. Seeing no imperfections in the whetted blade, Sniper nodded in satisfaction and set the weapon aside to cool. He had just set his next knife in place when he heard the doorbell ring.
Not quite as reclusive as he once was, the marksman only spent a second or two internally debating whether or not he should pretend to not be at home before finally shrugging. Whoever it was, they couldn't be too annoying, right? "Come in."
Registering a command, the voice-activated lock undid itself and opened the door to Sniper's room. The Australian placed his weapon into the sharpener before turning to see who it was at the entrance.
"Hey there stretch, how's it going?"
Oh good; Engineer wasn't liable to pester him for something. Sniper turned back to his knife and carefully watched as the blade was sharpened, "Just fine, I'm taking take of my weapons today. What's up, truckie?"
The resident inventor moved to stand by Sniper's side holding one of his toolkits in his grasp; "I'm giving everyone one of my teleporters for future missions."
"…Okay, why?"
Engineer explained why. Sniper agreed.
"Makes sense," The Australian said, withdrawing his knife once it was finished sharpening, "I'd hate for the little guy to get hurt from one of those knock-offs."
"So, you'll carry it?"
"'Course I will, what do ya take me for?"
Engineer held up his hands in mock surrender, a smile playing on his face, "Hey now, just making sure. You know that you can sometimes forget stuff in a hurry."
"What? I've never-"
"Coaltown, 1970."
Sniper's face went from befuddled indignation to hardened anger. He looked at Engineer out from the top of his ever-present shades and glared at him.
"I thought we agreed to never speak about that ever again, mate."
Engineer chuckled, slowly inching his way to the exit, "Did we? I'm sorry, I guess I forgot."
"Truckie…"
"Kinda like how you forgot your rifle during that robot attack and had to use your bow. But it wasn't quite as effective, was it?"
"I'm warning you-"
"I think you set a world record for most deaths that day; how many was it? Thirty-six? Didn't you just snap at one point and start throwing your Jarate around like-"
Almost quicker than the eye could track, the Australian grabbed one of his nearby knives and pitched it at the Engineer. Flying blade-over-handle, the weapon impacted the wall just over the Texan's head and stuck fast, quivering. Knowing full well that Sniper could've hit him if he wanted to, Engineer smirked and beat a hasty retreat to the teleporter. He warped away before the door to Sniper's room shut.
Sniffing in indignation Sniper bent back down and attempted to resume sharpening his weapons, but his mood was far too soured to remain focused for long. Memories of a ridiculous amount of Spybots coming behind him while he was in the thick of battle…the Australian grimaced. He then stomped over to his weapons cabinet and withdrew one of his many rifles, eager to head to the firing range and work out some of his frustrations. As he prepared to load his Machina, the marksman's gaze drifted over to his high-tech compound bow.
Rolling an idea around in his head, the Australian finally said 'what the hell' and took out his bow and quiver. Sniper knocked an arrow as he headed towards the teleporter in his room. After a brief moment the marksman warped to the team's firing range and set the holograms to 'Robot Invasion'.
He then proceeded to beat his previous high score on the machine, scoring headshots on every simulated enemy robot. However, for some reason every Spybot was killed not with a headshot, but rather multiple arrows to their knees.
Sniper grinned maliciously as he watched the holograms simulate feeble, pained crawling, trying to escape him and enter cloak.
"Not so tough now, are ya; ya WANKERS."
*twang*
"AUUUUUUGH!"
Engineer pressed the doorbell on the wall just outside Heavy's quarters. Seconds later, the door slid open and a noncommittal grunt greeted him as he entered the well-lit, concrete-walled room.
The Russian's room was…strangely befitting a man of his stature. It was certainly larger than any of the other mercenaries' rooms, but more sparingly furnished. Most of the living space was occupied with various kinds of exercise equipment (most of it related to building muscle-mass). The rest had been filled by many different books of Russian literature, large stockpiles of miniguns and ammo, and a small kitchenette with an attached refrigerator. Obviously the Russian had commissioned it as the bear of a man very much enjoyed making food. In fact, Heavy made some of the hands-down BEST food any of the mercenaries or Gems ever partook of; not entirely surprising as the man had somehow managed to create a sandwich that actively healed wounds when consumed. Heavy was only rivaled by Pyro in means of cooking skill, and that was mostly with regards to meals that took a long time to broil and foods that were particularly spicy. Both Demo and Engie were fairly adept cooks themselves, with the former being slightly better than the latter, yet each conceded to an assistant-chef role when Pyro and/or Heavy were in the kitchen.
In any case, a plate of Sandvich-bites (Sandviches cut up into bite-sized pieces for when one felt like a quick snack instead of a full-health boost) was set upon the wooden counter looking so far undisturbed. Next to the kitchenette was a small desk that held a computer monitor and a keyboard sized up to accommodate Heavy's rather large fingers. At the far end of the room was Heavy's bed-again, scaled to the Russian's impressive size-which was covered in red-and-gold sheets that signified Heavy's begrudging respect, while not exactly admiration, of the old Soviet Union's Communist system. Next to the bed was a medium-sized pink crib that cradled Shasha in its comforting embrace. While Heavy had eventually overcome his…er…interesting relationship with his main weapon, the Russian felt as though keeping the minigun in anything but its (her?) old crib would be wrong, and serve as an injustice to the gun's many years of dedicated service. So Shasha got to keep her crib.
The weapon's owner was currently in a corner of the room, beating the absolute tar out of a large punching bag pieced together from various parts of Gray robots with his bare fists. Most rational human beings wouldn't think twice about not using a ramshackle, metal punching bag as a means of training with their naked fists; one well-aimed (or poorly-aimed) punch would shatter every bone in their hand from the Distal Phalanges to the Carpals.
Of course, the mercenaries were not 'most people'. In fact, early into Gray's invasion, Heavy had actually been known to just charge into robot waves equipped with nothing but his KGB and an occasional canteen. The Russian had then proceeded to lay waste to entire invasion forces with a constant source of critically-charged punches. Gray had understandably been upset at this development. Demo had felt as though the Russian was stealing his title for the most effective melee combatant amongst the mercenaries.
Heavy attacked his metal target with a quick ten-punch combo with every strike coming in from a different angle and with varying degrees of force. The Russian then leaned away from his punching bag and pulled his fist back, getting maximum torque and momentum on his next blow. With a vicious cry, Heavy threw himself into his next punch and hit the metallic amalgam with a crushing haymaker so strong it caused the constituent parts of the bag to collapse on itself.
The bag then whipped back on its chain so hard it snapped and flew free from its prison, slamming into the opposite wall with a horrid sound of scraping and creaking metal before sliding down to rest in a heap on the floor.
It then exploded into various fragments that went flying in every direction, though somehow each fragment missed hitting something important.
The main body of the wreck then somehow spontaneously combusted, catching fire almost immediately.
…
As you do.
Engineer stared at the smoldering wreck of a custom punching bag for a few moments before turning to Heavy-who was wiping his brow with the towel he had wrapped around his neck-and quirking an eyebrow in confusion.
"I thought you could only do that with your Apoco-Fists." Engineer asked the Russian.
"It happens sometimes," Heavy answered after toweling himself off, not looking very fatigued at all, "Cannot control it. But is rare, and still only works on dead or destroyed babies. Do not worry."
Engineer shrugged, accepting Heavy's brief explanation of not knowing why his punches somehow made things randomly blow up and catch fire.
"Come," Heavy said, waving Engineer over to the counter where his Sandvich-bites sat and picking up one himself, "Tell me what is wrong over Sandviches."
"Oh, nothing's wrong, Heavy," Engineer said as he meandered over to the counter where the Russian had just tossed three mini-Sandviches into his mouth, chewing with his more characteristic 'OM-NOM-NOM' since Pearl wasn't around to be offended, "Just doin' a little…I guess you can say 'preventative' work for future missions." The Texan picked up one of the bite-sized treats and popped it into his mouth, chewing a bit more tactfully than his companion.
Heavy swallowed-a sound that Engineer was certain would have reverberated around the entire level of the Fortress were it not for the soundproofed walls, "Then…what is it you are working on?"
Between the five-or-six Sandvich-bites he indulged himself in, Engineer regaled to Heavy his emergency plan to get Steven out of danger should a particular mission end up more dangerous than expected. By the time he had finished explaining, the plate had been emptied of Sandviches and Heavy was pondering the inventor's plan.
After a few moments of nothing being said, Engineer began to grow a bit antsy at Heavy's thoughtful expression, "So, uh…what'dya think?"
Heavy continued to tap his chin for a little longer before looking back down at Engineer. The Russian crossed his arms and grinned at the Texan, "Is best idea," Heavy rumbled, "Considering Steven is not a fighter like us."
Engineer smirked, "You mean not yet, right?"
Heavy laughed, "Of course! Steven is small, but has very much potential for good warrior!" The Russian tapped his chin in thought, "Maybe we should up his training…"
Engineer seemed quizzical for a moment, "Really? I mean, we're already pushing him pretty hard with his exercises, but if you think that-"
"I do not mean exercises. I mean weapons training."
The Texan stared at Heavy for a moment, "You're talking about training him to use guns."
Heavy grunted as he shrugged his shoulders, "He is too small to hold swords or fight with fists, and too squishy for close-combat. He does not yet have his Gem powers, but he needs to be able to protect himself."
"And we already taught him how to shoot a while ago…" Engineer mused to himself for a few moments. In his mind the Texan was trying to picture Steven shooting a robot or Gem monster with any form of weapon. Something just seemed…wrong about that image.
"Are you sure we should be teaching the little guy how to kill people? I don't think he's the type of person who can do that."
Heavy shook his head, "Nor do I, but he should still know how to use weapons just in case. Teach him to aim for arms and legs; not lethal, yet they can slow enemies. Besides, we will be fighting more robots and monsters than actual people."
Engineer had to concede that point; shooting a robot to pieces wasn't as gory or mentally scarring (not that he would know) as shooting a person. Gem monsters didn't even count, seeing as how even the more 'tame' creatures barely resembled anything remotely human. The Texan had a hard time believing that Steven would be emotionally and/or psychologically damaged if he were to take down a robot or a Gem monster.
In fact, now that Engineer was thinking about it, the last time he had actually shot a living person was a little over a year ago (non-fatal wounds notwithstanding), and that wasn't even during a mission.
And if Engineer was being honest with himself, he felt a bit of pride well up in his chest whenever Steven performed well in the shooting range. He had only even taught the half-Gem to use a simple, lightweight pistol, and despite a few early learning bumps, (and Pearl's vehement denial that Steven should ever learn to use something so barbaric and volatile) Steven was fairly proficient with his weapon. Lessons were on-again, off-again, and took a bit of a backseat to the Gem's own teachings, but Steven had learned to be a fairly proficient gunslinger in due time.
Engineer found himself nodding to Heavy's suggestion as he mulled over these thoughts, "Alright, fine, we'll up his shooting lessons, but only with pistols."
Heavy grunted, "Steven is too small to hold bigger guns anyway," The bear of a man picked up Engineer's unpacked teleporter from the counter and walked over to his wardrobe, "I will carry teleporter for emergencies, do not worry."
"I don't worry, I plan," Engineer rebutted Heavy's comment with a smirk before turning around to exit the Russian's abode. He made it halfway to the door before looking back at the (now burnt out) wreck of a punching bag, "Hey, uh…do ya want me to piece together another punching bag for ya?"
"Please," Heavy said as he rummaged around in his wardrobe, finally picking out his pack when he found it, "If it's not too much trouble, make it tougher. Can't practice if the baby-robots break too easily."
"Heavy, your punches make things explode."
The Russian turned and gave Engineer a strange look, "…Yes. Your point?"
Engineer stared at Heavy for a few more minutes before shrugging and turning to the exit once more, "No reason; I'll think of something."
He stepped onto the charging teleporter outside and disappeared in a flash of light.
Heavy, after placing the teleporter in his bag and setting it back in his wardrobe, stepped over to his bed and sat on it. Opening his nightstand, he withdrew a set of glasses and a mildly-thick book with a series of Russian characters on the cover. The Russian placed his reading glasses on his face with care, flicked on a nearby lamp, and opened to the bookmarked page in his tome. Heavy sighed as he resumed reading, "This is nice."
…
What? He may be a vicious, nearly-unhinged juggernaut on the battlefield, but he does have a PhD in Russian literature. Of course he has a bit of culture, perhaps more so than most of the other mercenaries.
To say that Engineer was not surprised to find Demoman nursing a bottle when he entered the Scotsman's room would be like saying that an Arctic researcher would not be surprised to find at least two feet of snow outside his door in the morning. It was something that both individuals knew would happen, but it nonetheless irritated them even if they had dealt with it a hundred times before.
Deciding to forgo any response, Engineer stood in the middle of Demo's room on a Scottish rug watching the cyclops down one of his bottles of Scrumpy on his plaid couch. It took a little while (and by a little while I mean the exact amount of time it takes one to down an entire bottle of booze) but Demoman eventually exited his bottle and turned to look at Engineer, "What?".
Wordlessly, and somehow with a set of goggles covering his eyes, Engineer crossed his arms and gave Demo a look that screamed 'Really?'.
Demo rolled his eye and set down his empty bottle next to two of its brothers, "Relax, ye blockhead. I'm only a bit tipsy."
On the 'Degroot Scale of Drunkenness', 'Tipsy' was roughly equivalent to 'Completely Shitfaced' on any sane person's blood-alcohol level. Of course, the Degroot family was world-renown for their incredible resistant to toxins-alcohol in particular. That natural resistance was put to the test with the amount of drinking Demoman did on a daily basis during the 1900's, and several times it failed the Scotsman. Eventually though, Demo became all but immune to rising blood-alcohol levels and could keep going beyond the point that would spell death for any normal human. This made it more of a chore for the demolitions expert to get drunk, but allowed him to enjoy a much wider range of drinks before even coming close to passing out. Even better, Demoman's high resistance allowed his body to flush alcohol much faster than normal-so long as he stopped drinking for a while-and removed those pesky hangovers the cyclops had to deal with in the past.
Sighing a bit, Engineer used his not-unremarkable willpower to mentally set this issue aside, "Okay fine, just don't be around Steven until you're completely sober again. I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here."
Demo barked a loud laugh as he looked at Engineer, "That's a compliment ta me! Now what brings ya down here?"
Engineer set himself down on the well-made couch next to Demoman before explaining his plan, taking only a split second to look around the room for any obvious signs of damage.
Luckily, Demoman appeared to have not damaged anything in his room. Due to the Scotsman having some more rustic tastes than his comrades, mostly owing to the fact that he had grown up in a literal castle, his room was a bit rougher than his teammates. For one, the walls of his room were made to resemble cemented cobblestone with a few iron torch braziers providing a soft orange glow. Not stupid enough to let Demoman around an open flame, Engineer had built the torches to be completely electronic. Which was great, because Demo had used most of the wallspace to hang up his many swords, axes, clubs, polearms and shields; most of which had a wooden component and were liable to catch on fire. Various rugs and ornaments of Scottish style were strewn about the room in an (admittedly artistic) fashion, adding to the sense of 'medieval' one had upon entering the explosive expert's room. Demo's wooden wardrobe had the Degroot family crest on top of the double-doors, giving it a bit of flair. Demoman's bed (used equally as often as his favorite couch) was expertly carved from rich wood and adorned with the finest plaid covers the cyclops could find. At the head of his bed, Demoman had tied two of his Scotsman's Skullcutters to the wall-one crossed over the other in an 'x', and placed one of his many Chargin' Targes at the crosspoint. Though Demoman was still apt to using his wide array of melee weapons in combat, he had definitely acknowledged that his shields needed to be upgraded. After Engineer had given him a set that was far more effective, Demo had treated his older shields as antiques, treating them with a fair amount of care and delicacy one would usually reserve for priceless artifacts.
The Scotsman declined to having any of his explosives in his room, saying that 'only a complete git sleeps in the same room as his munitions, ya daft idjit'.
The couch Demo and Engie were both currently seated in was placed in front of a large, blazing fireplace (well contained and not as free as torches might be) that crackled pleasantly and warmly just below a large, flat screen television. Onscreen now was an episode of the long-lasting, engaging, but sometimes disappointing Sport of Crowns; a bit controversial yet highly entertaining series. Demo had paused the video when Engineer walked in.
The only remaining article in the room was the absolutely absurd amount of liquor cabinets, over half of which were 2/3rd's empty. If nothing else, Engineer could take solace in the fact that Demo was a connoisseur (of sorts) for alcohol; he stocked only the finest brews he could find. Though, in the state that he usually drank them, they could've tasted like something Amethyst might make and he'd still down them no problem. However, if one of the mercenaries (or Amethyst) needed a specific brew to make their shitty day better, Demoman was a master bartender and knew just what each of his teammates needed.
But that was neither here nor there.
The Scotsman listened intently to Engineer's explanation to the purpose of his visit, as well as to handing the explosive expert a teleportation toolkit, "…and, in the worst case scenario, we'll be able to get Steven to safety in a moment's notice."
Demo nodded along with Engie's words, looking surprisingly serious and sober for a man who had just drank as much as he had-even by Degroot standards.
"Alrigh'…I see what yer getting' at," Demo said at length after staring into space for a few moments, "But-er, most'a the stuff I make usually blows something else up. Yer sure that ya want me carting one'a these things around?"
"Better to be safe than sorry, Demo. And I highly doubt that you'll be able to damage the teleporter when its packed up like this," Engineer said as he knocked on his toolbox, "I built these things to be pretty damn resilient."
"Right…well, guess I better go take care o' this thing then," Demo got up from his position on the couch, taking his teleporter with him over to his wardrobe, "Ey, while yer here, help yourself to any o' me brews. 'Scept the Scrumpy; that's mine."
Engineer arched an eyebrow before beholding the sea of alcoholic bottles in front of him, trying to find one that might appeal to him. He usually preferred a nice, simple beer. Finding one that he thought he might like, the Texan picked out one bottle from the rest and held it up, "Demo, if I didn't know any better, I'd be thinking that you're getting drunk just for a TV show…"
"Aye, I am."
Engineer turned to the cyclops with a confused expression, "…Why would you do that?"
"Oi, I don't know about you-oh, there ya are ye bastard-but getting drunk really helps me understand the storyline."
"I thought you only watched it to make fun of the sword fights?"
"It started like that," Demoman said as he withdrew from his wardrobe after putting the toolkit away, "But the damn show started sucking me in! Now I actually care about some of the characters, even if they prance around like fairy princesses in the ring. Half o' em just wave their damn swords around like they don't even know what they're doin'!"
"They're actors, Demo, it's called embellishing. Making it dramatic for the viewers?"
"Bah," The Scottish swordsman said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Real swordfighting is much more dramatic than the crap they pull there. Am I right, 'lander?"
That last comment was directed to the sheathed blade on Demoman's couch, which let out a muffled, but positive-sounding whisper of 'heaaadss' after a moment. Demo turned to Engineer with a triumphant look.
"See? The sword agrees with me!"
"If you say so," Engineer shrugged. He then tucked the bottle of imported beer into his bag and started towards the exit, "Well, I'll leave ya to your show then, Demo. Try not to get too drunk."
"There's no such thing for a Degroot!" Demo laughed uproariously as he popped the cap off another bottle. He indulged himself in his brew after Engineer had left and started playing the episode on his television once again. About thirty seconds in, Demo groaned audibly.
"Ye daft blighters, it's obviously the midget that's the traitor! It's always the little ones…"
Engineer took a deep breath as he stared at his next teammate's door. He had been standing there for the past five or six minutes, debating internally if he should just come back later or try to find Pyro at a different time.
Really, entering Pyro's room was like flipping a coin; you either saw something so mentally scarring you'd have to ask Medic to lobotomize you in order to forget it, or you didn't.
Engineer was not a fan of those chances, especially since that had actually happened to him once or twice. At least he thought so; it was kind of hard to remember…
Just deciding to bite the bullet, Engineer stepped forward and pressed the doorbell, signaling his presence to anyone inside. For a few seconds nothing happened. Then, just as Engineer began to think that nobody was home, the metal door spilt apart to admit entry. With a mild amount of reluctance, Engineer walked into the quarters of the most mentally unstable member of Team Fortress.
In the most simple of terms, Pyro's room was…schizophrenic. While not exactly surprising if you knew the behavior and mannerisms of the occupant, the design and layout of the room-which was split into two halves-seemed like something out of a horror movie. Both sides were equally unsettling on their own, but the creepiness factor skyrocketed when placed together.
Honestly, it perfectly suited the masked mumbler's disposition.
The left side of the room was more unsettling than just straight-up terrifying, yet it seemed to do its job very well. The walls, ceiling and floor were all painted in a bright rainbow of colors that hurt one's eyes if they stared directly at it for too long. Candy, flowers, cotton-clouds, presents, golden musical instruments, rainbows, pink unicorns, pink fluffy unicorns, pink fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows-all of this and more was inscribed with an impressive degree of detail on the concrete walls and ceiling of the left side of Pyro's room. Scattered haphazardly around the floor was a myriad of stuffed animals, balloons, bowels of candy and large foam toys. Pressed against the left wall was a pink-and-white wardrobe with gold accents. Bright light shined from the three pink balloonicorn lamps attached to the wall. In truth, it seemed just as likely that this room would belong to a young girl as it would to a deranged serial killer. Pyro counted for at least one of those (the first was still up in the air).
The right side of the room, however, seemed like something straight out of DOOM. Technically speaking, it was a perfect mirror of the left side of the room, but had one major difference.
EVERYTHING was either on fire, or had very clearly been on fire at some point.
The walls, floor and ceiling were all blacked with heavy amounts of soot and fire damage-it presumably would have been worse had Engineer not constructed every room out of self-repairing materials. The murals were still on the wall, while still there, were melted and chipped away due to the heavy heat and flames Pyro had likely sprayed around at its leisure. Now the murals looked like twisted and perverted caricatures of their original design. On the floor, the many piles of goodies were still there, but anything that was flammable had at least been partially smoldered; the stuffed animals in particular. All of the foam toys had been replaced with real weapons like fire axes, flamethrowers or shotguns. The bright balloonicorn lights were replaced with dark iron braziers that blazed with real fire.
And the worst part about this? The room was split right down the middle into two completely equal halves; there was clearly a line where the bright and happy met the dark and scary and it looked as though Pyro had taken extreme care in making sure that neither side crossed that line. Even the firebug's bed was split; the left half of the frame was gold-painted and had bright pink sheets and covers. The right side of the frame was a soot-covered black and the sheets were torn and tattered.
If there was ever a statement to one's polarity, this was it in a nutshell. Despite how close of a bond Pyro and Engineer had, the Texan was still very unsettled to enter Pyro's room. Seeing how Pyro saw the world through the Pyrovision™ goggles only made the experience stranger.
Half expecting to see Pyro setting some random creature on fire, or viciously dismembering an unfortunate bear (it happened far more often than it should), Engineer was pleasantly surprised to see Pyro seated on the floor rather close to a medium-sized flat screen television on the bright and happy left side of the room. Looking at the way Pyro was sitting so relaxed and laid-back, it would be easy to think that the firebug had the mind of a child. It continued to stare at the screen for a few moments before finally turning to the door and noticing Engineer. It raised its hand and waved to Engineer with a friendly "Hhroh!" before setting its hand back in its lap and turning to the television once more.
Engineer walked over to where the firebug was relaxing and settled down in a crouch next to it, "Hey Pyro, what's up?"
"Nnt mmch," Pyro mumbled as it shrugged its shoulders, "Wwttchnn Strrr Trrrk." It pointed to the screen, which showed a bald man in some type of futuristic chair (poorly rendered, Engineer privately thought) with various people walking around or working; some with a rather large amount of makeup to have them look like aliens.
Given how the Texan spent most of his time around actual aliens, the irony was not lost on him. Engineer turned back to Pyro, "Oh, am I interruptin' somethin'? I could come back later-"
"Nnno, tts fffnn," The pyromaniac picked up a nearby remote and paused the video before looking up at Engineer with its big, empty goggles, "Whht sss ttt?"
Taking another deep breath to prepare himself, Engineer warped in yet another toolkit and launched into his long winded explanation for an emergency escape for Steven. In truth, Engineer was about as frightened of Steven getting seriously hurt on a mission as he was of how Pyro would react to Steven getting hurt. Despite how dangerous Pyro was, the firebug was unlikely to take personal offense to any comments or insults it received. There were really only two ways to get Pyro truly angry; attempt to get it to completely stop setting fires, or hurt a member of its family. From early on, Team Fortress had clearly realized that Pyro was the most affectionate member of their team; always happy to lend a hand keeping enemy Spies away, airblasting would-be deadly projectiles and putting out any ignited allies. Given how Pyro seemed to be a literal punching bag with the way it just shrugged off any insults from its teammates and enemies, the firebug was an ideal ally despite its creepy disposition. Engineer was the first to grow a bit closer to Pyro, since the two's talents complimented each other so well.
During a particularly difficult defense of Upward, an enemy Spy made the mistake of killing Engineer where Pyro could see him taunting over the Texan's corpse. Then, both teams realized just how dangerous the masked menace was.
Pyro was, and still is, INCREDIBLY vindictive. For the remainder of that Upward battle Pyro was an unstoppable force of hellfire and destruction bent on utterly decimating the enemy Spy. No matter how many times the BLUs killed it, Pyro always took a couple with them to the grave; and whenever the BLU Spy was alone, Pyro always seemed to be nearby to ambush him and burn him to death. After the mission had ended, both teams reached an unofficial agreement on taunting sparingly if a Pyro was nearby.
That vindictive nature had increased over the years Pyro had spent with its team, and now branched out to include the Gems and Steven as well. Its great protective behavior towards Steven was matched only by that of Pearl and Soldier, but where Pearl was naturally merciful towards humans, and Soldier had a hard time actually disciplining civilians, very little could sway Pyro when it was on the warpath.
That very thought was ever present in Engineer's mind as he explained the purpose of his mini-teleporters to Pyro, waiting in apprehension for the firebug to realize that someone might try to harm Steven and explode.
Luckily, Pyro was just as blissful as it was dangerous. The mute mercenary waited patiently and without making a fuss to Engineer's whole spiel, "So all you have to do is carry this in your pack and use it if you think Steven is in danger. Can ya do that?"
"Mmh-hmm," Pyro nodded as it accepted Engineer's toolkit. The Texan handed it over and was not particularly confused when the pyromaniac set it aside before turning back to Engineer for more instructions. Engie knew that Pyro could be counted on to complete a task, though it may take a while.
With nothing more to say, Engineer stood up, tipped his hardhat, and left the room in a red flash of teleporter energy. After a few moments of staring at where Engineer had left, Pyro picked up the remote and pressed a button to play its show again. Pyro then continued to watch its Star Trek marathon, giggling and clapping its hands whenever it saw a ship explode in a burst of fiery color.
…Yeesh…
Engineer sighed to himself as he approached the door to Soldier's room. Like everything that involved the patriot-whether directly or indirectly-trying to meet him in his own quarters was a headache and a half.
But again, Engineer had to admit that Soldier's unique perspective on the world had helped out the team on more than one occasion. Sometimes even getting the crew through what they had accepted as an unsalvageable situation long before.
'That doesn't make him any less annoying to deal with…' Engineer thought ruefully as he both mentally and physically prepared himself for the deadly challenge that was getting into Soldier's room. Stepping forward, the Texan pressed the doorbell just to the side of the entrance.
"Oh! A visitor!" Soldier said from within the room in a too-sweet voice, "Just a moment! I'm afraid that my room is in no condition to entertain guests, please give me a moment to tidy up. If you could, would you please wait in front of the door? Thank you!"
Hearing this, Engineer rolled his eyes at Soldier's poor imitation of a stable individual. He then immediately walked four steps backward along the wall away from the door and braced himself.
"All done!" Soldier's voice called, "Nice and clean. I'm going to open the door now; please come inside!" The door to Soldier's room slid apart-
*BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM*
-And immediately seven rockets sped through the opening to explode against the far wall. While certainly powerful, Engineer wouldn't have been worth his salt if a mere explosive barrage was all it took to bring down one of his walls. The explosives did leave a series of nasty blackened marks however. Engineer grunted as he brushed off some of the smaller grenade fragments from his clothes. He really should confiscate Soldier's weapons and keep them under lock and key. Too bad the rocketeer was far too good at getting into places he really shouldn't be.
"TAKE THAT YOU SNEAKY, INTRUDER HIPPIE! I'LL SHOW YOU TO BREAK INTO OUR HOME! MAYBE YOU CAN GET A REAL HAIRCUT IN HELL! HAHAHAHAHAHA-"
"Soldier, it's me, ya rocket-hoppin' dumbass! Now put down the goddamn launcher and let me in!" Engineer shouted, breaking through Soldier's victory tirade with a slice of cold logic.
Soldier was not one to be so easily dissuaded however, "And who, exactly, is ME?" The patriot yelled back, "You could mean ANYONE! Now, SPEAK UP!"
"It's ENGINEER! I came down to this dump ta give ya somethin' important!"
"Oh, well why didn't you say so!" Soldier said, his voice honey-sweet again, "Well, in that case I guess I have to let you in! Sorry about trying to kill you earlier; I'm a bit jumpy."
"I had NO idea…" Engineer mumbled with a roll of his eyes.
"Here you go!" A familiar rocket-powered-grenade launcher slid nosily along the ground and through the open door into the hallway, "Now you know I can't attack you! I hope you don't mind that I took all of the rockets out; I can't have you using that against me! You're free to enter now."
Still not buying it, Engineer reached into his bag and withdrew a disembodied Engineerbot head, "Okay, I'm coming in." He called as he stepped towards the door. When he was just outside the doorway, he tossed the functionless head across the opening.
*BLAM*
The robot head flew backwards as the shotgun pellets tore into it, slamming it against the far wall and leaving yet another couple of holes that Engineer would need to patch up later. For a few seconds nobody spoke. Then Soldier, grumbling and cursing quietly, threw the shotgun he had used out into the hallway to land aside his launcher.
"You can come in." Soldier groused in his normal gravelly voice.
"Finally…" Engineer mumbled as he stepped through the door and into Soldier's room.
The patriot's room can best be summed up as 'Spartan'. The concrete walls were free of any paint, but they were riddled with various bullet holes and the ash left behind by explosives. Strewn about the floor were various ammunition boxes, unused bullets, spent shells, beer bottles, unused rockets (better be careful with those), various shotguns, launchers, shovels and grenades. A small cot was pushed into the corner of the room-Soldier refused to sleep in anything but-next to an impressively well-kept metal wardrobe. About the only decorations in the room was a large tattered and torn American flag hung up on the wall proudly and a case full of various medals and accolades (some real, some Soldier commissioned himself) placed on a small nightstand next to his cot.
Subconsciously, the clutter and absolute mess made Engineer twitch as he beheld Soldier's room. Some part of him was just begging to plaster those walls up and fix what damage had been done, despite the fact that Engineer knew that the walls would just fix themselves up if given time. The Texan knew that if he could see more of the room, he would have a harder time controlling himself. Thankfully, the piteously small amount of light projected by the one unbroken lamp on the far wall didn't allow Engineer to view the entire room as a whole, sparing him from what he was certain was a ghastly sight. But at the same time the inventor couldn't quite see where exactly Soldier was in his quarters. It was almost as if-
Engineer's gut clenched as his Spy-sense tingled.
"HAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
*CRACK*
"Oof!"
Quicker than thought, Engineer had whipped around and clubbed Soldier in the head with a hastily-drawn wrench, halting the patriot's surprise attack. Soldier fell to the ground, dropping his pickaxe in the progress. While he had been wearing a helmet at the time, a critical wrench was nothing to sneeze at-something that far too many enemy Spies became familiar with during the Gravel Wars. Soldier groaned as he shook the stars in his vision away.
Engineer sighed as his heart rate slowed to a normal pace and pocketed his wrench. He then glared at Soldier as the patriot got to his feet in a wobbly state, "Now why the hell didja go and do a foolish thing like that for?!" The Texan chastised.
"I was trying to protect our home, maggot!" Soldier said with no trance of grogginess and no evidence of a concussion-his incredible pain tolerance and the ability to bounce back from what should have been crippling blows had always fascinated Engineer, "How was I supposed to know that you weren't some enemy Spy that had broken into our base?!"
"We have anti-Spy measures set up all around the Fortress and beach house! They can't disguise themselves here! And the only person who can disguise themselves and sound even remotely like me is our Spy!"
"Engie, I trust you, but I do NOT trust machines! They have risen against us in the past! Who's to say they won't do it again?!"
"Soldier my machines aren't sentient, and Gray's robots were programmed to kill us! They didn't 'rise against us'!"
"It's the same thing!"
"No, Soldier it isn't-" Engineer stopped for a second when he realized that he was trying to dispute logic with Soldier; the only member of the team that could even hold a candle to Pyro's insanity. Immediately after the thought occurred to him, Engineer facepalmed in sheer annoyance and frustration.
"Ya know what? Forget what I said. Here," Engineer pulled out his PDA and warped in another toolkit before thrusting it into Soldier's arms, "Just take this and put it in your bag. It's too early to deal with you right now."
Soldier looked confused as he accepted the toolkit without complaint, "But its thirteen-hundred hours! Not early at all!"
"That's what you think," Engineer groused as he pointed a finger in Soldier's face to get his attention, "Put the toolkit in your bag. Do not activate it unless I say so. Do not use it to teleport any form of wheat products. Just put it away until we need it."
"When will we need it?"
"When I say so. Now go!"
Soldier's (completely fabricated) military instincts kicked in at the order. He stood up straight and saluted with his right hand, carefully shifting the toolkit in his left to hold it, "Sir! Yes! Sir!" He then ran over to his wardrobe and began messing around inside of it.
Shaking his head, Engineer turned around and moved to exit Soldier's room. It was not a place anyone wanted to remain for long and still retain their sanity.
'Merasmus got off easy; we have to deal with this idiot for the rest of our lives.' Engineer grumbled mentally.
"Okay…last one," Engineer mumbled to himself as he walked to the last mercenary's room, "I really hope Scout isn't going to be as bad as Soldier…"
The Texan walked up to the Bostonian's door and pressed the doorbell. He then waited for a few seconds for Scout to open up.
…
Engineer frowned when he didn't get a response within a minute; Scout was usually all too quick to open up when someone came by, even if all he did was tell them to piss off. Maybe he had his headphones on?
The inventor pressed the doorbell again, but was met with pretty much the same results. Engineer was all set to use his admin override code on the lock when a flash of red behind him interrupted his thoughts.
"-knew he wouldn't be able to outlast you."
"Ha! Yeah, what would you do without me?"
"Probably just break in using one of Engie's codes, but whateva. Oh, hey! Speak of the devil!"
Engineer turned back to the teleporter to find that Scout and Amethyst had warped in, each holding a small handful of disguise kits. A memory from earlier today prompted Engineer's next question in spite of his better judgement.
"Wasn't Spy keeping those things off you?" The Texan asked as he pointed at the devices in the duo's hands.
"Hardhat, c'mon," Scout said with a roll of his eyes, "When has someone eva been able to keep somethin' off'a me for too long?"
"Hey, what about me? I did all the work!" Amethyst protested, looking petulant.
"Yeah sure, whateva helps ya sleep at night," The purple Gem stuck her tongue out at Scout, but the huge grin on both their faces belied their kidding nature. Scout turned back to Engineer, "Anyways, what's up Engie? We got things ta do, so whateva it is ya gotta tell us better not take too long." The Bostonian walked up to his door and set his palm on a small screen near the front. After a moment the screen flashed green and the door opened, allowing everyone inside.
Scout's room is, in the most eloquent and descriptive terms available to the author at this time, an absolute mess. Not nearly as bad in terms of property damage like Soldier's room, but there's a much larger amount of knick-knacks and personal goodies scattered about the floor. Well-lit by bright fluorescent bulbs, the concrete walls are absolutely covered in various posters of human athletes (mostly baseball players) to the point where they could almost be classified as a type of wallpaper. Baseballs and baseball bats are all lumped together in a single pile (the non-weaponized ones at least) next to a second pile that seems to be fabricated out of various pieces of baseball equipment; jerseys, cleats, gloves (batter's, catcher's and fielder's) and padding. There aren't any batter's helmets or caps in any piles, but hats were always held with a bit more regard than other types of clothing. Several other piles litter the ground, these ones fabricated from the various keepsakes Scout decided to take with him after certain missions. It wasn't necessarily a pile of battle trophies-that was in a pile all its own-but instead compiled of neat bits and bobs that Scout picked up along the way. The whole room seemed like a kind of 'organized chaos' situation, one that was just barely restrained, yet somehow Scout claimed that he had everything under control and only Amethyst understood that he had a well-organized system despite the utter lack of anything remotely resembling organization.
And Scout's dwelling couldn't even hold a candle to the amount of insane clutter that was Amethyst's room. The two just seemed to complement each other in the absolute best and worst ways.
Scout's bed was a bit more tame than his floor, thank God, but still pretty messy. Sheets were strew all over the mattress, whether from night fits or the simple unwillingness to make one's bed, Engineer could not tell. Even the desk area around Scout's computer was messy-several cans of Bonk! placed haphazardly into interesting shapes atop some unwashed plates-but was also very contained. Scout's wardrobe was about the only really 'clean' place in the entire room, and that was due to the borderline obsessive-compulsive way the Bostonian took care of his headgear and weapons.
Scout, with Amethyst trailing behind him, stepped over to his desk, swept the towers of irradiated soda cans and plates into a nearby wastebasket (why the runner didn't just throw them away to begin with, Engineer would never know) and dumped the disguise kits in their place before opening one up and messing with the settings on it. Amethyst did the same next to him, taking a bit more time as she was used to just morphing into something without really thinking about it while Spy's disguise kits took an artistic hand to use properly. She had scribbled several mistakes out before really getting into the rhythm of it.
"So you gonna tell us what you're up to or what?"
Engineer blinked at Amethyst's question; he had been trying to come up with a plausible reason as to why the two most tactless members of his crew were working meticulously as possible on the kits that he had completely forgotten his original reason for coming here. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"Alright, so I came by to give ya something, Scout. Something that might be pretty important on future missions."
"Oh, heck yes, is it a new gun?" Scout looked over at Engineer, his eyes sparkling in excitement. Quietly, Amethyst snickered behind the Bostonian's back as she continued working away with making a disguise. Engineer shook his head.
"Nah, it's not a weapon. It could be a bit more important than one though."
Like he had done seven times before, Engineer regaled Scout and Amethyst (by proxy) his idea for an emergency evacuation during a mission if things ended up pear-shaped. Surprisingly, both the runner and the Gem turned a bit serious as Engie ran down the danger Steven could be in should Gray attack during the middle of a Gem-monster battle. Far too often the twelve had a hard enough time keeping themselves safe, and some of them still ended up either regenerating in their Gems or waiting in the respawn chamber due to one small screw-up. Oh, they never lost a battle yet, but there were a few close calls from time to time. As the two most frequently poofed/killed members, Scout and Amethyst knew this all too well.
"So all I gotta do to set this thing up is open it? It's really that easy?" Scout said after Engineer had finished his explanation and had handed the toolkit over to him. The Bostonian was turning it over in his hands, trying to discern if there were any other complicated mechanisms in the device. Amethyst was standing next to him and poking at the toolkit as well.
Engineer shook his head, "Nah, it basically sets itself up no problem. All you have to do is toss it out and unlock the latch. From there the teleporter can do the rest on its own."
"Great," Scout said as he set the toolkit off to the side, "I'd hate for the reason that Steven got hurt was 'cuz I didn't know how ta set up one a' your teleporters."
"Hey, maybe I could teach ya how to just in case."
Scout made a 'pft' sound with his lips, "Nah, I don't think so. Probably way too complicated anyways."
"Yeah Engie, we're not all eggheads like you and Pearl. Some of us actually don't find spanners or flux capricorns interesting."
"They're called flux capacitors Amethyst," Engineer said as he rolled his eyes at the purple Gem, "And if ya ain't up for learnin' about my machines, than what the heck are you doin' with all those disguise kits ya got from Spy?"
For a moment, the Texan was taken aback by the devious grin Scout and Amethyst shared. Engineer happened to be very familiar with those particular diabolical smiles and smug eyes. Far too often the duo had smiled that very smile just before unleashing an absolutely horrible (relatively speaking) prank or trick. Poor Pearl, often the butt of the two's pranks given how easy she was to annoy, was the most popular target out of their entire team. However, the two didn't discriminate, not even against Garnet. Engineer himself had been the victim of one or more trap toolkits and important tools and components being kept out of his reach. And then there was the Dustbowl incident of '86…
Engineer shuddered internally. Fortunately, Amethyst and Scout both remained unaware at how uncomfortable they were making him feel. Amethyst-still smirking, by the way, pushed herself up onto a clear area of Scout's desk, "Oh, we're just getting together stuff we need for a new game with Steven. We think he'll enjoy it."
"Yeah," Scout said cockily as he leaned back in his chair, "And the best part is, anyone can play! Well, they'll be able to once we finish up here." The Bostonian gestured to the pile of disguise kits nearby.
Engineer was understandably not comforted, "What…exactly, does this particular game entail?"
Scout smiled and opened his mouth, "See, the name of the game is called 'Steven Tag'. The way it works is-"
"Woah, woah, waitaminute," Amethyst moved and clapped one of her hands over Scout's mouth to prevent him from saying anything else, "I thought you said we weren't gonna tell anybody anything 'till we were finished?"
Scout rolled his eyes and brushed his companion's hand off his mouth, "Re-lax Amy, I wasn't gonna tell hardhat anything important. Just that it's kinda like freeze tag."
"Oh. I guess that's okay then."
Engineer raised an eyebrow at the two before his gaze turned back to the desk, "So…what do ya'll need those for then?"
"Now that is what ya hafta figure out on yer own, Engie. Or just wait till we're done, either one works. Speakin' of…" Scout turned back around and picked up the disguise kit he had been working on before. He flipped the tin open and began scribbling again, only for a moment as he remembered that he still had an audience, "Hey, if ya ain't got anything else for us, would ya mind leavin'? We wanna get this done ASAP, but we can't work with ya here."
Engineer turned to Amethyst and found that the purple Gem had resumed her work on the disguise kits as well. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Engineer sighed, "Just…just promise me that this 'game' of yours doesn't involve anybody getting hurt. And when I say 'hurt', I mean by normal people standards."
The Texan wasn't exactly assured when the duo looked at each other with confused expressions on their faces, "I don't…think so?" Scout said, though he sounded unsure.
"I mean…this doesn't involve weapons if that's what you mean." Amethyst said, shrugging.
Engineer sighed again, "Well, if Steven gets hurt somehow, I sure as heck ain't claimin' responsibility. Goodbye you two."
Amethyst rolled her eyes and huffed an exasperated breath once the Texan had left, "Pssh, as if Pearl wasn't bad enough with her crazy ideas of us purposely hurting Steven. Now Engie's on our case too?"
"Ah, they just worry about the little man. And let's be honest here, we aren't really the best role-models for him." Scout tried to reason as he continued working on the disguise kit.
"I guess…" Amethyst mumbled, the purple Gem's mind being filled with images of Steven getting hurt because of something stupid and her standing by unable to help. Amethyst threw her head back with a groan, "Ugh…why'd Engie and you haveta go and make me feel sad and junk? I thought we were gonna have a good time makin' something cool for Steven…" The short Gem fell onto her back, making the desk shake a bit. Her companion looked over at the display and, being unmoved, shook his head with a smile.
"C'mon now, we can get most of the hard stuff done now if we actually try."
"Nuh…too sad to work. Can't do it." Amethyst mumbled in a fake weak voice as she raised her arm up to the ceiling, "I'll work later when I feel better…"
"Get your lazy purple ass up and gimme a hand here!"
All Scout received in response was yet another weak grunt that he was certain was there to mask the snickers Amethyst was undoubtedly having at his expense. Scout sighed, "Fine; if I get ya something' ta eat, will ya do yer damn job?"
The speed at which the Gem spot forward into a sitting position would certainly have given a normal human whiplash. As it were, Amethyst's long white mane flew all over the place, "Yeah, sure! Whaddya got?"
Scout deftly leapt out of his chair; smiling to himself how eagerly Amethyst could be if there was food to be eaten. The Bostonian walked over to a nearby mini-fridge and opened it up, "Lesse here…" Scout mumbled as he looked into the small icebox. Fully away that Amethyst could eat almost anything, Scout knew that the Gem responded best to fried foods. So when he spotted a familiar white-and-red striped bucket, he smirked.
"Got a bucket of chicken," He said as he pulled the cardboard container out and examining its contents with both his eyes and nose, "And it's still good too; only about a week old I think."
"Great!" Amethyst said as she stretched out her arms toward Scout and made grabby motions with her hands, looking for all the world like a petulant child, "Well don't keep a girl waitin'! Give it here!" Scout tossed her the bucket of cold fried chicken. Not having the patience to even consider warming it up, Amethyst ravenously tore into the food.
"Ya know," Scout mused as he settled back into his chair at the desk, watching as Amethyst finished crunching down the bones that had been left, "If you wanted some food, all ya had ta do was get it yourself."
Amethyst popped the empty container into her mouth and, after a might swallow, turned to give Scout a wry grin, "But why would I do that if you're here to get it for me?"
"I'll keep this in mind the next time ya ask me ta rob the next ice cream van, or the next taco truck or whateva."
Amethyst let out her characteristic barking laugh, "Aw, c'mon Scout! Ya know ya love me."
"About as much as I can throw ya, yeah."
Scout's room was then filled with the sound of two great, if completely irresponsible, friends laughing as they prepared a surprise for their favorite person.
Engineer let out a relieved breath as he rode the base elevator up and out of The Fortress. He could have just teleported, but the Texan thought the extra time to get his feelings together would do him some good. Seeing as how all of the mercenaries now had emergency teleporters, the next course of action would be to bring the Gems in on the plan. Amethyst already knew of course, but she probably didn't even think about telling Pearl and Garnet about Engie's plan; she didn't have the foresight for that.
So Engie himself was marching up to the Temple to tell Pearl and Garnet about it. Despite the former's distaste for most human technology, the alabaster Gem always had a certain fascination with some of the more impressive advancements humanity made. Engineer and Medic's own creations were certainly worth more merit in Pearl's eyes, though the latter was a bit too…enthusiastic at times. Luckily, the doctor had the rest of his team to help keep him in check.
When the elevator pinged, Engineer stepped out and walked down the short corridor towards the exit. The Texan, upon reaching the door, hit a series of access codes to unlock the entrance from the inside. Once finished, Engineer walked through the opening and moved over to the Gems' Temple door.
"Oh, hello Engineer! How are you doing today?"
Performing an about-face, Engineer saw Pearl with her hands wrist-deep in the beach house's kitchen sink. The Gem was washing a series of dishes by hand, smiling and humming a happy little tune as she worked.
With a small smile of his own, Engineer walked over to Pearl and stood to the side of her with his arms crossed, "I'm doin' just fine Pearl, how're you?"
"Very good, I must say. If you're looking for Steven, he and Garnet are out for their morning exercises."
Engineer raised an eyebrow, "Still? Thought the usual lessons only lasted about an hour or so."
"They do…at least when myself or Amethyst is instructing," Pearl grimaced ever-so-slightly, "But, you know how Garnet can get a little…erm…" She trailed off as her mind grasped for the right word.
"Crazy?"
"I was going to say intense," Pearl responded dryly. Giving a smirk and sideways glance to the inventor, she continued, "Trust me, you and yours have the market cornered in crazy."
Engineer chuckled good-naturedly at Pearl's jab; he more than anyone else knew just how chaotic the mercenaries could be if they were all together and left to their own devices. Really the only thing keeping Beach City standing was the fact that the mercs were more than preoccupied with destroying the waves of robot invasions and taking care of the occasional Gem monster. When the crew went for too long without a good distracting fight, Engineer had enough foresight to set up a fully-functional combat simulator in the lower levels of The Fortress, allowing the mercs to brush up on their skills from time to time. They didn't want a repeat of what had happened in Ocean Town, that's for darn sure.
"If ya don't mind me askin', why exactly are ya washin' these dishes by hand? I built a perfectly good dishwasher for that very purpose." Engineer asked Pearl, tapping on the very device with his knuckles.
"It's cathartic for me," The alabaster Gem said with a smile, pointedly setting one of the plates she had just cleaned into a nearby drying rack, "I find it calming to clean them myself rather than just wait around for a machine to do the work for me; albeit a well-built machine, but still."
Engineer shrugged, "If ya say so," Before picking up a nearby dishtowel and using it to dry off one of the cleaned dishes, "Well, lemme give ya hand with 'em at least," When Pearl frowned and tried to protest, the Texan cut in once more, "And while I'm here, I can tell ya about this little idea I had about future missions.
As Pearl listened to the inventor's clever and somewhat redundant plan, she couldn't help but think introspectively about the truth of Engineer's words; Steven really didn't have much in the way of self-defense, what would happen if he was in a situation where he had to fight? No matter how much the alabaster Gem tried to deny it, the truth was that serious and sometimes (semi-)fatal injuries were not an if with their line of work, but rather a when. Until Steven could learn how to control his powers on his own, he would be completely reliant on the Gems and Team Fortress to protect him; a task that was made infinitely more difficult if the twelve had to protect themselves as well.
"I…see what you're getting at," Pearl said with her hands clasped together nervously in front of her, having long finished the chore of washing the dishes a while ago, "And I can see that your 'emergency teleporters' would certainly be useful for more than just protecting Steven. But you surely have to understand that this is simply a stopgap? What happens if the teleporter network goes down? Or if Gray jams it like he has in the past? Steven still has no idea how to control his powers, what happens when he simply just can't escape?"
Engineer sighed and scratched his chin at Pearl's counterpoint; he had considered it himself, but until he had spoken to Heavy earlier today he wasn't willing to commit to the most obvious answer, "About that…I was talkin' with Heavy earlier today and he had this idea to help Steven defend himself in a fight."
The hesitation in his voice was not missed by Pearl, "Well, what is it?
Deciding to just bite the bullet now ('Oh, great choice of words there…') Engineer cleared his throat, "…We were thinkin' that maybe we could give Steven some advanced lessons in firearms."
Recognizing the widening eyes and shrinking pupils as telltale signs of a Pearl meltdown, Engineer quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture, "Don't worry, we won't even think about teachin' him to use anything bigger than a small handgun-and only give it to him during missions. But Pearl; we won't always be nearby to protect him," 'As much as I wish we could', Engineer thought bitterly, "He needs to able to defend himself just in case we can't. And given the recent series of events, that seems even more likely."
Being a rather logical individual, Pearl couldn't fault the reasoning behind the Texan's words. Steven was left completely vulnerable during the end of the Sea Spire mission and was saved only by the skin of his teeth due to the team's timely intervention. And just a few days prior, Steven actually helped fight the centipeelte mother armed with nothing but an ice-cream freezer. The Gem could not deny that Steven absolutely needed to learn how to protect himself, yet she was no fan of teaching the young boy how to use such volatile weapons as human munitions.
"He…he still has his Gem powers," Pearl muttered weakly, grasping for straws, "We can teach him how to use those…"
"Yeah, but how long 'til they come in? Or what if some of them don't develop at all?" Engineer rebutted, looking distinctly guilty despite his words, "Steven could go for years without showing any signs of Gem powers. He has managed to tap into his super-strength very well on occasion," The Texan conceded that point; there was no other way the half-Gem would have been able to carry the Cookie Cat freezer (let alone pitch it at a Gem monster) as easily as he had, "But that's unpredictable and nowhere near as powerful as your own."
For a few moments, the beach house was silent. Eventually, Engineer removed his hardhat with a heavy sigh and wiped his brow, "Truth is, Pearl, I don't like this idea any more than you do. But we have to face facts; Steven is going to get into dangerous situations in life. That's always been our way. So he needs to have some form of self-defense, and until he gets a little older-or develops more of his powers-he can't rely on strength alone. He's half-human too, so he should learn how to fight like a human as well as a Gem warrior. 'Sides, Steven's already shown that he can handle a gun pretty well, so I seriously doubt that the boy's gonna hurt himself using one."
Again, Pearl couldn't find any faults in the Texan's logical assessment; teaching Steven how to properly use a handgun would certainly improve his chances in a fight, no matter how small. And she knew Steven-he would never even think of using his weapons on a person. The idea of hurting someone else was all but foreign to the half-Gem. She also knew that Engineer was very professional during his lessons with Steven and was very clear in his warnings on how to properly use a weapon, so the probability of Steven hurting himself was also very low.
Also, while Pearl thought that normal human firearms were a touch barbaric, the mercenaries armaments were all custom-made and had a certain charm/allure to them. Pearl herself actually underwent certain firearms lessons herself-particularly under the tutelage of Sniper-and had to admit that using one of their weapons was far more preferable to using normal human weapons.
So, despite the inner protective voice that screamed at her not to teach her baby how to use weapons, Pearl found herself nodding, "…Alright." She said softly.
For how intelligent and reasonable Engineer had looked a moment ago, the dumbfounded expression on his face was almost funny, "…Whut?"
"I agree with you. Steven should learn how to handle a firearm in combat. I don't like the idea at all, but I know that it's necessary." The alabaster Gem elaborated.
Engineer stood blinking at Pearl for a few moments (not that you could tell because of his goggles) before snapping out of his trance and clearing his throat, "Well, uhh…I certainly didn't expect ya' to agree so easily."
Quirking an eyebrow, Pearl crossed her arms and stared down at the Texan, "Oh, really? And why is that?"
"No reason," Engineer said evasively, wincing ever-so-slightly when the Gem's gaze turned into a glare, "Except that…sometimes you can be a little…overprotective, about Steven."
"Overprotective?!" Pearl said indignantly, "I most certainly am not! If anything, I feel as though everyone else is far too loose with Steven's privileges!"
"When we first brought him into The Fortress on his tenth birthday, you refused to let him go without a helmet."
"I was worried that he might trip over a wire or loose weapon and hurt his head!" Pearl tried to defend herself, all the while blushing like a light blue tomato, "Besides, you wear a hardhat all the time."
"It's my thing,Pearl, ya know that. And do you really think that I'd allow Steven to go somewhere where a loose weapon might be lying around?"
"Well…no, but-"
"If that isn't enough, should I maybe bring up the fact that you watch Steven sleep almost every night? Don't try to deny it; I have video evidence from the security cams to prove it."
"So?! That's not being overprotective; he just looks adorable in his sleep!"
"Pearl, I have one recording where you were stroking his hair while she slept and almost skewered the seagull outside his window when it squawked."
Pearl's face was flushed almost completely blue at this point.
"Oh, and should I bring up the first time you let him out of the house? How much bubble wrap did you use again?"
"Stop. Talking!"
"Guys! We're back!"
"Hey, Steven."
"Hi Engie! Hi Pearl! ...Um, Pearl why is your face all blue?"
"Oh, no reason Steven; how was your run with Garnet?"
A/N: Hoooo-leeeee crap this chapter took a really long time. I really wasn't feeling up to writing for a while, and then there was a bunch of shit with school and my family and my job and ugh…it ended up making this chapter taking a lot longer than it should have. I seriously hope that this doesn't happen again, but I can't make any promises.
Now, this chapter was all about the mercenaries' new home, The Fortress; an underground, bigger-on-the-inside complex that housed all of the mercs as well as their weapons and much more technology. This chapter just detailed each of the merc's rooms, and there's much more to explore in The Fortress, but this chapter was dedicated to the mercenaries' rooms alone. We'll be seeing more of The Fortress in the future, don't worry.
If I was Engineer, I most certainly would have a contingency plan in case we needed to escape somewhere dangerous. Enter the Texan's portable teleports; set them down and they automatically unfold into a teleporter set to take a single person back home. Sure, giving everyone a teleporter seems redundant, but then again not all of the mercs or Gems may be going to a single location for a mission. Engie's just looking at the future with his wide area of cover.
Also, Steven knows how to shot bullets. Why the hell wouldn't he when you consider the people he lives with. Don't worry; Steven won't be shooting anybody, and he'll use his weapons sparingly if at all, but it'll still be an option for the half-Gem.
Once again, thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, followers and favers for taking part in my ramblings.
Potat0s0Verlord: Thank you so very much for enjoying my story; it really means a lot to me. As to the Gems reacting to some of the mercs' cosmetics, headgear and-dare a say-jewelry, you'll just have to wait and see.
Zaravan: Ha ha, thanks! I hope that I continue to impress you.
Dante Watterson: Thankee :3
darkromdemon: In order to not spoil too much, I won't give away which characters will or will not have an effect on the plot. However, I will say that Steven and a certain munitions-based tome have a good friendship. The tome's owner on the other hand, well, let's save that for later.
trickster3696: Ah ha ha, ha ha ha…*sweats nervously*
ghostboy1225: Sorry for the long wait on this one.
Speerut: I certainly won't stop at just 20 episodes, and some episodes may simply be downgraded to a couple-thousand-word snippets because they either don't focus on the mercenaries at all, or something the mercs bring to the table negates the problem of an episode entirely. I will be coming up with some of my own storylines to fill the void, but I am not a crewniverse member; my completely original chapters may take longer to write. (P.S., the title at the start of a chapter may help you find out how much of the original story I changed)
Fanreader48: Thank you very much for taking the time to leave such a nice and analytic review; I'm very happy that you enjoy my story as well as both fandoms. And…just to clarify, you don't think that I'm shipping Scout and Amethyst right? It's just the wording of your review made me think so. I want to make it absolutely clear that-at this point at least-I will not deviate from the canon ships nor will I incorporate any ships that are not confirmed to exist. I'm no good at writing romance anyway. (Stevonnie will still be a thing, both the ship and the fusion.)
Plague Doc: Thank you! I hope I don't disappoint.
A Friendly Hoovy: Aw, c'mon now it's not perfect, it's actually kinda chaotic if I'm being honest. But thank you for your attention and comment; good to know that I can still excite my readers!
perigoj14: Thank you for the monies! And also for the wonderful comment; I hope I won't let you down with future chapters. Also, art? Wow. I'm…actually feeling kinda pressured here to do extra good. Really, I'd be happy if I could just get recommended on Beach City Bugle or tvtropes, but thank for thinking my inane ramblings actually qualify as art.
And now for a little something extra: I'm more than aware that my story may raise a few questions. Some may be spoilers for future chapters, but others may just be something on the side. The latter are what I'd gladly answer if given the chance. So, if you feel as though you need something answered or want to find out more, feel free to post a question in your review! I'll try to answer them all, even if the answer is just 'Spoliers, sorry.'Hope you enjoy Team Universe!
Reviews please! I'd love to hear your comments on my story and/or how to write better!