Each of the mercenaries had a particular weapon he specialized with.
Most of them were some kind of gun (apparently the kind of gun that made cutting-edge rifles of modernity look like an orc boomstick). Heavy's had a name. The giant murdercannon with rotating barrels was named Sasha.
"There is also Natascha and Tomislav." He nodded, currently in the middle of maintenance. Louise was privy to overseeing something no other man – not even from his outfit – had the privilege of. Heavy still made it clear that Sasha is not to be touched by anyone but himself. "Smaller, for stealth things."
"...I'm baffled that any gun could do anything for "stealth", let alone these." She groused, watching the behemoth made of polished black steel. You could probably mount something like this on an airship, and it would still be on the larger end. Heavy shrugged.
"Silencers. Or just small baby guns, like pistols."
"Why not use a crossbow?" The giant hummed thoughtfully at the question. Sniper did have a bow among his arms. Yet, before he could think on that, the doors to the room slammed open and in rushed Siesta, looking positively spooked out of her mind.
"Milady Vallière! C-come… come quick…!" And out of breath. Louise sighed and passed her the glass of water, for which the maid only nodded in thanks before greedily gulping it down. Heavy's eyebrow was raised. "T-terrible… tragedy…!"
"Maid, take a deep breath and explain."
"It's the princess! Princess Henrietta!" Louise blinked, the name of the imminent monarch of Tristain and her childhood friend among the last ones that she expected Siesta to utter. Wait, did that mean she's here?! And how did…? "Y-your familiars are holding her hostage!"
...oh.
"It's the maniac in a pot helmet, isn't it?" She thought she would be angrier – by all accounts, she should be horrified! - and yet all she could muster was disappointment at how utterly predictable this was. She was going to give Henrietta an earful for trying to sneak into the Academy grounds like that too, for a good measure (because something told her this wasn't an official visit). "Does anyone else know?"
"N-no, Milady… Sir Demoman sent me to relay the news directly to you." At least one of them had a head on their shoulders. Ah, who was she kidding, really… Exchanging a nod with Heavy, the two of them set off to, as it turned out, Void Tower of all places.
There were obvious disadvantages to a monarch sneaking out of her castle to visit a friend undercover, but Henrietta de Tristain didn't expect one of them to be "held at breakneck point by a lunatic".
"You're gonna start talking, you red menace?! Or do I have to show you the American way one broken rib at a time?!" Said maniac barked at her in a tone of a gruff mercenary soldier, globules of saliva flying all over the place with each word too loud. She was pretty sure she was deaf in one ear already.
"If a hair falls off her head, I'll rip you apart!" The blonde knightess with a flintlock pistol aimed squarely at the Soldier glowered with cyclopean rage, herself held in place by a length of rusty longsword to her neck – held by a cyclops, no less.
"You cannot rip me apart, pinko hippie! I am one hundred percent American steel, unrippable by commie tricks!"
"What does that even mean, you lunatic?!" Demoman, currently holding the sword to the knightess's neck – more to not get Soldier killed than out of any actual malice – could only sigh. Yes, two shadowy figures sneaking around the Academy grounds were suspicious enough to investigate, but the moment the princess said "Louise", Soldier cut off all further train of thought and deemed her a socialist subversive, as he would.
To her credit, she was taking her forced captivity with much more dignity than her bodyguard – and with much more dignity than Scout, who seemed to find this a perfect time to try a pick-up line or several. "Look alive." Sniper's gruff voice alerted them to incoming danger. Their Australian-but-not-really companion had been their lookout ever since they've almost committed regicide. "Pinky's here."
"Pinky? Do you mean Louise Fr-"
"Aha! So you do know her name!"
"Well, yes, she's my childhood friend..."
"Good! She can do proper judgment unto you the likes of which only friends can!" The other mercenaries – as well as the knightess and the princess who were beginning to ease onto the situation, or at least as much as they could – all exchanged looks of doubt.
Speak of the devil, the pink Master/Boss walked in, stomping with purpose. Heavy and Siesta were right behind her. Louise took a moment to appraise the situation with a critical eye. "Hey, lil' pink." Scout greeted her with a nonchalant wave, perched away from imminent harm. She cast him a dirty look. "Got a damn fine taste in childhood friends, lemme tell ya."
"I trust Scout's been behaving?" She addressed Demoman about the issue.
"Aye. Just doing his usual flirting at gunpoint."
"Right. Onto the main course..."
"Son, what I've got here is a commie spy." Soldier's voice carried a grave tone, like a father introducing their child to the grim reality of the world such as a dying grandparent or an expiring pet. Or a commie spy, in this particular case. He lifted Henrietta's head up to demonstrate, the princess more uncomfortable with the odd position than threatened at this point. "I know it's not easy, finding out a friend threw in with the Russkies, but we're all American here, and you know what that means."
"What in Brimir's balls is Ameri-"
"Yes, all American." Heavy cut into the knightess's question with a voice of someone who had to cut in like that before. "Everywhere."
"Sun Tzu once said "if you can't kill an enemy, then leave it to someone else". It's a burden, but it's also an honor, son." Louise's face was impassive, even as she was offered Henrietta's own wand, cut into tasteful shapes of a royal focus – likely to commit the deed with for the poetic irony. "To remove the red menace from the world is something all men and women and all of those in-between should do with a smile."
Louise planned to make some kind of cutting comment, a dry remark – but that last sentence threw her off fierce. "...you… you colorblind tatterdemallion! Does she look like she's red to you?!" Scout had much less decorum to begin with, so he concluded her outburst with a hysterical laughter. The Soldier remained nonplussed.
"Son, the red is metaphorical—"
"You're wearing red right now, for fuck's sake! I cannot with you people!"
"L-Louise Françoise, language!" Heavy rubbed the bridge of his nose, already feeling the headache coming up. The team generally let their tinpot-wearing maniac believe that he was in charge around here, but sometimes it caused… problems.
"This commie spy is your own Ol' Yeller, son! Seize your literary fate and stab her right in the eye!"
"I'll stab you in the eye, Brimir's balls! Unhand the Princ—" And then, suddenly, clarity washed over her in realization. She might not have known what "American" was, but, frankly, she wasn't sure if the Soldier himself knew that. Thus, she had to play along – and her discussions about the strange world the mercenaries came from left her with enough knowledge to know how.
Slowly, the pinkette straightened out, took a deep breath, and looked Soldier right in the eyes (the best she could). "Do you know who this is?" The man's expression turned puzzled, as did the others. Only Heavy seemed to recognize where she was going with this, something of a proud smile dancing on his face.
"Y-yeah, that's a—"
"This strapping young woman is the recently-christened President of the United States!"The silence after that nonsensical statement was so deafening, Louise thought for a moment that this is the precious moment where her sanity goes pop. No such luck – which meant she had to keep going. "Her name is Henrietta Tristaneagle, and she is a patriot the likes of which were not seen since" She quickly racked her brain to recall the relevant name. "Abraham Lindquist!"
"You mean Lincoln?"
"Of course I mean Lincoln! This attack on all things American that you just did got me so irate, I can barely remember names of great men that are examples to us all!" She felt the utterly horrified look of Henrietta, her bodyguard, and Siesta's all over her – most likely the three of them thought Louise snapped under the stress – but her own focus was on the Soldier relenting from committing to regicide. It seemed to be working, but she needed a coup de grace.
...she also needed to ignore Scout rolling on the floor in a fit of raucous laughter. "Her face deserves a place on Mount Rhode Island with the best of them, so help me God, you will let that hell of a woman go, or I'll make a Hirosaki Harbor out of your sorry butt!" Also needed to ignore Henrietta lighting up like a red light. This might have been the hardest of the three things to disregard.
"...I've done a terrible thing." The princess was thus freed as Soldier confronted his own folly of mistaking a Real Patriot for a Pinko Spy. Louise took a deep breath, watching the tinpot fall onto his knees in shame, then looked towards the knightess still being held at swordpoint and gestured for Demoman to release her. "Miss President, is there anything I can do to repay this sin of hubris?" Before Henrietta – still in a stupor – could voice herself on the matter, the pink locks turned sharply towards the Soldier once more.
"Twenty laps around the Academy, maggot, on the double!"
"Sir yes sir!" Off the Soldier went, through the window off the Void Tower. Louise took a moment to register his exit route before a terrified realization set in.
"...I'll go find Doc." Sniper sighed and excused himself from the scene right in time for the soft "THUMP" to reverberate outside, followed by a bunch of confused screaming.
"..."hell of a woman", Louise Françoise?"
"...I-it's an American phrase, I was told."
"What is American?"
"...I wish I could tell you, honestly."