Fanfiction has a length limit, so the actual chapter name is: "It was turning into that kind of day, the kind you saw everyday"
"...should've known… -ter… I… -'ve seen it comin"
The Engineer scowled and tapped the radio in an effort to retain the signal using impact maintenance, but the rest of the song was lost to static. He huffed and switched the radio off.
"Guess that's the last of the music fer a while," he said.
Spy lifted his head from the backrest and opened his eyes. "Good. I was getting a headache."
Spy could see the Engineer grind his teeth silently and bite back a response. He knew that being near someone as devilishly handsome and suave as himself was taking a toll on the man, so he held his tongue. All joking aside, his BLU counterpart was an idiot in all ways except perhaps in harassing his teammate, and as such the man couldn't stand Spies and their habits. Among other things, this included stunning good looks, the ability to disappear and appear at will, and pithy one-liner punchlines to a killing joke. The man certainly gave him a pointed look when he rolled down the window to smoke a few hours ago. That didn't stop him, because frankly, anything that annoyed someone was worth doing in Spy's little black book, and the rushing air helped tune out that awful music Engineer was playing.
Transport between bases was… varied at best. For long distances, or instances where they would stay at their destination for a long time, they usually took railcars. Spy preferred it that way. While it was less comfortable, there were plenty of opportunities and places to dodge his colleagues for a quiet smoke.
He hated travelling between bases by road most of all. Had he been able to drive his own car for the excursions, it would have been bearable. At least then he would have been in charge of his own fate, and able to stop at a gas station with the sure knowledge that when he left it wouldn't somehow be on fire or in ruins, courtesy of his coworkers.
In recent times, all nonessential vehicles were loaded onto rail cars for later delivery and everyone got loaded into a few vehicles. Often this meant Sniper's camper van, Engineer's truck, and Medic's van. His coworkers were loud, in some cases more than a little unhinged, and, in Soldier's case, the door was not only unhinged but all the way across the room. Spending hours trapped in close quarters with little to do and no leg room was tantamount to homicide.
Due to this, there were arrangements. Who could drive with who, and in what vehicle. It varied week by week, depending on who was at each other's throats for what reason. He wouldn't be surprised if Miss Pauling had a flowchart so she could keep track. It wasn't often that he and the Engineer rode together.
Most days he enjoyed a clever jab at the Engineer's benefit. But, being as they were on an important mission for Miss Pauling, some discretion was due.
He let the conversation drop and rested his head back on the seat. For a while, the rumble of the engine provided a backdrop to silent contemplation.
"Hmph."
Spy tipped his head forward again, massaging his neck. "Do you have something to say, Engineer?"
The man's expression soured, as if dealing with something distasteful. "Do you think this is related?" he asked, glancing at Spy.
"To ze missing briefcase? Possibly," he shrugged. "In both cases, our thief was extremely good at covering their tracks and privy to ze inner workings of our involvement with RED. It's a logical conclusion."
The Engineer shook his head. "Would you work with me here, Spah? I'm tryin' to see why anyone would want footage of our scuffles with BLU. I can understand someone wantin' ta get a look at our gadgets and weapons, but our files? It doesn't make sense."
"Those files contain our biographies, backgrounds, personality tendencies, and notes on specific acts during our employment histories, including our fighting styles. To the right person, that is worth something." He had read his once, a while ago. While it was by no means complete, it contained a few of his more well-known escapades. He was grateful that it missed that one mission in Sarajevo, as well as a few in Vienna.
"Sure, it's got information about us and our families in there, but the Administrator keeps that locked down. She's pretty protective of what's hers." The Engineer replied bitterly.
"Hence Miss Pauling's continued employment," Spy agreed. "I would consider that perhaps our mystery thief is working towards the possibility that someday… the Administrator will no longer be a complication." He hoped that sounded vague enough. Despite the lack of radio reception in the area and Engineer's constant attention to possible tampering with his tools and machines, Spy wouldn't put it past the Administrator to be listening in on the conversation.
The Engineer narrowed his eyes as he caught the implications of Spy's words. "You think that someone's trying to put an end to her?"
Spy made a noncommittal gesture. "Whoever is doing this seems to be operating under the belief that any retaliation from the Administrator for their actions, should she find out who is doing it, is inconsequential. From that, one could conclude that there is a power play at stake."
Not to mention that whoever was at fault was powerful indeed, to make the briefcase completely disappear. He had made his own inquiries after the briefcase, as a matter of course, but his contacts had turned up nothing. Given the nature of his profession, he had given little more than vague and enigmatic responses to the now deceased Director, but any piece of information was a valuable gem in the right hands. Given what he had done in the past, the file would certainly make for an interesting read.
"And do ya think it's some mafia sniffing around, like Miss Pauling said?"
Spy smirked. "So many questions, Laborer. Do you really think that I hold all of ze answers?"
The Engineer's hand tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "If ya do, ya ain't talkin'," He said heatedly. There was a pause. "Your guess is as good as mine."
Neither of them even considered raising the possibility of BLU being the culprit. The Engineer held firmly the belief that the BLUs wouldn't know where their asses were if you showed them, preferably with a laser guided missile, and Spy knew that something of this caliber wouldn't even occur to them. Something of this scope required careful planning.
"Evidently not." Spy quipped, unable to help himself. He glanced over at the Engineer's expression, and decided to humor the Engineer. "Mafias are unique. It would depend on ze mafia, their relation to the Administrator, and their motive. If ze Administrator was no longer able to interfere in their affairs as she felt necessary, I'm sure that it would be ample motivation to some. The real question is, who would have the resources?"
Spy waved a hand. "It most likely isn't one of ze local groups, especially ze smaller ones. Sure, zey have ze motive, but it's too easy to look at ze local markets and see what is being moved where. Information and technology cost money, and someone is moving around a lot of both to keep zis charade up." He lit a cigarette smugly, ignoring Engineer's eye roll. "No, zis is most likely a large organization, if any. The Bratva, Yakuza, and Italian mafias are all very powerful. They could have somezing to gain from slipping ze noose. And who knows, maybe zey could be putting aside their differences for a common goal?"
The Engineer chuckled. "That's a pretty far reach, Spah. You and I are livin' proof that the right man in the right place can do a heckuva lot of damage."
"Naturally." Spy conceded. "But consider zis: someone is always one step ahead of us. Not only do we not know what ze end goal is, we do not know where zey will strike next. For someone like ze Administrator, who thrives on control, zat does not bode well." He took a drag on the cigarette.
"In regards to other parties that would benefit from… a shift in power, I'm sure that ze Australians would rather their trademark metal stay on ze continent."
Australium. The secret and jealously guarded source of Australia's success. Boosting both brain and brawn, the mysterious metal had been the source of all new advances in technology, courtesy of the only country where it was found. With Australium, anything was possible. The Administrator jealously hoarded all that she could get.
Engineer cleared his throat. "I don't blame 'em. Anything she wants can't be for a good reason."
"Indeed." He put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes, indicating to his coworker that the conversation was over.
They rode in silence, the Engineer digesting what Spy had said. Having worked with the man for this long, he knew that this was as good as he was going to get; nothing could get the spook to talk when he didn't see a reason to.
Even with Spy's educated guesses though, they were no closer to finding the two-time thief. He reached over and turned the radio on, giving it a tap for good measure. It crackled to life.
"Someone told me long ago, there's a calm before the storm. I know, it's been coming for some time…"
Dustbowl
RED Base
The late morning sun beat down as the Engineer cracked the roof trapdoor open, climbing out onto the hot metal. Muffled cursing erupted from the attic and he knelt back down, snagging the handle of his toolbox out of Spy's arms as he stumbled on the rickety steps.
"Holdin' up there, pardner?" he asked, trying not to laugh.
Spy meticulously climbed up the rest of the steps onto the roof, brushing off his collar. "I am fine, pardner," he replied acidly.
Patches of the rusty antenna twinkled in the bright light, refracting at odd angles. Rolling his shoulders, the Engineer hoisted his toolbox onto his shoulder and approached the structure with Spy in tow.
The structure resembled a windmill water tower in many ways, possibly as an attempt to disguise its true purpose, although of all places to site a water pumping device the roof was definitely the last place the Engineer would consider. More likely it was a repurposed structure, but the big dish on top wasn't what you would call subtle. At its base was a metal box roughly the size of a couch bolted to the roof. Cables wound from the box up the supports to where they hooked into the dish, supplying the Administrator with footage of everything that happened on base.
The thought that the Administrator could see everything that happened made his spine crawl, but that feeling was intermixed with the thought that if she saw everything, she also saw things that made him want to bleach his eyeballs if he was unfortunate enough to witness it. Some of the things Soldier did… he shut down that thought before it could go any further. Nope. Not goin' there.
Attached to the metal box was the power meter, and sure enough, there was another transmitter jammed through the cover. Engineer felt a weight settle into his stomach, slimy and cold.
The Engineer sighed. "Damn. I wish she wasn't right about this." He knelt down next to the electrical meter and opened his toolbox. "Let's see what we can do about gettin' it out intact this time."
He pulled out a screwdriver and started removing the screws holding the meter box plating together. He heard the sound of Spy lighting a cigarette and looked up at him, frowning.
Engineer gave him a scathing look. "There's a spare in my toolbox you can use, ya know."
Spy sighed, rolling his eyes. "And why would I do that, Laborer?" he said, with emphasis on the mocking title.
At that moment the Engineer would have gladly taken a spanner and smacked Spy a few times, just until he felt a little better. Anyone else and he might have reconsidered- he was a Southern gentleman after all- but after a few years of working together, the snake knew exactly how to push his buttons.
"Well, I figure the sooner we git this done, the better," he drawled. "Don't tell me you're actually havin' fun."
Spy snorted, reaching into the toolbox. "Obviously not."
The two of them worked quickly, dismantling the cover of the meter so as to not disturb the transmitter jammed into the side of the box. The light on its body, which blinked softly at the Badlands base, was dim. Engineer took that as a bad omen, but in order to even touch it he'd have to disable the power for a few minutes. Inside the meter box was a series of switches and lights. He pulled a note out of his pocket and consulted Miss Pauling's instructions, written to give as little information unimportant to the mission at hand. While he understood that most of this stuff was confidential and all, it sure would've been nice to know what not to press, and what happened when it was. Reaching forward, he tripped the appropriate breaker and the entire display went dark.
Carefully, he tapped his screwdriver against the transmitter needle. No sparks jumped to the metal, but just in case he grabbed it with his gloved hand before pulling it slowly out of the box. Metal on metal screeched and Spy backed up with a wince, dropping the screwdriver into the toolbox like a society lady disposing of a dirty handkerchief.
Half a foot of metal slid out before the Engineer could remove the device and take a look at the hole. He whistled low. The needle attached to the transmitter had been jammed right into a cable, and mechanical hand or not there was a good chance he would have been electrocuted if he hadn't shut off the power. Something had punched that into there with a lot of force, just like the last one.
Spy sidled over to him and held a hand out, waiting. Engineer handed it over to him, and turned to fix the damaged cable. Spy took out his butterfly knife and deftly inserted into the narrow casing joint, popping the metal off with a sharp twist.
Spy inspected the interior. "Mmm. Merde.[1]"
Engineer looked out from wrapping the cable with tape. "What do you see?"
Spy chuckled mirthlessly. "Once again, we are fools."
Engineer stood up. "I really wish you'd spit it out, Spah. Your smoke and mirrors act is givin' me a headache."
Spy snapped his butterfly knife closed and slipped it into his suit, gesturing with a free hand. "Come see for yourself."
The Engineer approached and saw that within the casing there was nothing but a melted mass of circuitry and plastic, especially at the base. The weight in his stomach froze. Some kind of power overload in the device had done so much damage that the whole thing was half melted. In other words, useless. He swore and took the pieces from Spy.
"We turned off the power, it shouldn't've fried the circuits!"
Spy raised an eyebrow, frowning. "Or perhaps someone knew zat ze jig was up. When you removed ze first one, zat could 'ave tipped off its owner, would it not?"
He exhaled between his teeth, releasing pent up frustration. Just for once, he was sure that they would have found some answers. Now it seemed that they were back at square one, at least at this base. "Yeah, probably. It was jammed into a power source big enough to fry a man, so there was probably a surge protector. It'd take maybe a few seconds for this thing to be a goner if someone could shut off the surge protector remotely."
"If this were mine, I would make sure of it. The best way to cover your tracks is to leave none behind. Zere is nozhing I can do here."
Spy turned and picked up the piece of meter box cover that the transmitter was jammed through, turning the metal over in his hands. The edges of the hole were jagged, as if one sharp movement jammed the needle through. It put him in mind of Scout actually, holding something moderately sharp in a fist and slamming it into a wall. This was not an action born of finesse.
The sounds of metal banging made him look up. The Engineer was assembling the meter box again, using force born of frustration. It impressed Spy. It took considerable circumstances for the Engineer to show irritation around him. He suspected that it was a matter of pride.
"Ya gonna stand there and watch, or ya gonna help me get this back together?" Engineer snapped. "We've got to check a few other bases today and I'd like to get back home before sunset. We'll take the paperweight with us and figure it out later."
Spy rolled his eyes, and the two of them put the box back together. Within ten minutes, they were on the road again.
And so the rest of the day went. Base after base. Gravel Pit. Teufort. Badwater Basin. All of them had a transmitter. All of them were fried, and any information they could have held gone.
Only the pieces of an ever growing puzzle were left behind.
Chapter Notes:
[1] French: "Shit"
The first song that plays on the radio, I Should've Known Better by Nickel Creek, is not period consistent (released in 2002), but I really liked how the lyrics fit. The second one is historically accurate; Have You Ever Seen the Rain by Creedence Clearwater Revival (released 1970). I considered All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix (released 1967) as well.There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief…
My boyfriend has a butterfly knife. They're fun for tricks if you practice, but I recommend getting a trainer for that. He ended up getting one after a Noodle Incident involving waking me up with a bloody hand saying "I don't want you to freak out, but I screwed up…" Thankfully, a hospital visit was averted due to his coworker being an EMT. If you're going to wake someone up, wash the blood off first.
I looked for ages to try and figure out how someone could manually steal internet/encrypted video. Apparently it's really difficult to physically do that by using tools, rather than electronically. So I ended up having to modify a transmitter into an interceptor that could draw electrical power off of whatever it's jammed into. Satellite broadcasting was invented in the 60s, so thankfully that part is historically correct.
It was frustrating to try being historically correct on the tech because not only was I not alive in time to learn about it firsthand, the internet was being unhelpful with all sorts of types of technology. This includes when police databases went digital and the types of broadcasting available in the 70s. Let's hope that there is never the legal need to go through my internet history.
Much of the Administrator's power comes from information. The information to control governments, to manipulate the system, blackmail high level people into cooperating. Mafias are tolerated; as long as they play by Ad's rules they are left alone. I first saw this in The Stray, a story mentioned earlier. There is always the chance that mafias were sick of her controlling them (as well as the rest of the world) tried to work together to get some information on her and everyone else.