Train to Trade Plaza
After the madcap mission at Well finally ended, the BLUs were treated to a reward for Engineer's cunning amidst the chaos: A pre-paid trip to the Mann Co. Trade Plaza. Aside from the occasional day-off spent in Teufort, most of the mercenaries' downtime was spent buying, trading, and hanging about the Trade Plaza. There, the mercenaries would receive Mann Co. issue weapons, accessories, and most importantly, hats, to use throughout their battles. Normally, the individual mercenaries would go alone, having to pay for a ticket to the Plaza with work money. However, Saxton Hale decided to pay for their tickets, due to the whole mess being his fault to begin with, and thus, the nine BLUs were all on a train ride to the Mann Co. market.
Inside the BLU's cart, it was a massive party. Demoman had ordered most of the booze on the train, and was merrily drinking away alongside Soldier and Scout, laughing themselves to nausea (or alcohol poisoning). Medic and Heavy were sitting at a booth, enjoying some sandwiches and talking about recent events. Sniper and Spy were propped against a wall, smoking fancy cigarettes and relaxing. Pyro was dancing a hoe-down with the man of the hour, Engineer, celebrating his cunning victory behind enemy lines. Throughout it all, Polite Spy simply sat to the side, looking absently out the window.
"So, Scout," Demoman slurred, leaning on Scout whilst the two of the men swayed dizzily. "What do ye plan on buyin' at the Plaza, lad? Another bat or a hard-hat?"
"Nah, pal," Scout groggily said, taking another swig of beer. "I'm just buyin' a couple 'o keys for the damn crates Hale keeps *hic* sendin' us."
"That explains the twelve boxes being loaded up..." Spy muttered, Sniper chuckling at the comment.
"You know, if you think about it," Sniper said. "Hale is a marketing genius for the whole crate deal. Think about it: Give away locked crates with every couple purchases, and the only way to unlock it would be to buy a Mann. Co Key, and then get whatever thing is inside."
"Y'all are right, Sniper," Engineer said, midway through a hoe-down with Pyro. "It is marketing genius, but that don't change the fact it's pure evil to be stuck with nothing but those damn things!"
"Yeah, I've had twelve of 'em for weeks now," Scout added. "And I ain't been able to afford a ticket to *burp* the Plaza to buy keys to open 'em. And, like, 75% of the time, it ain't even my gear. I just give it to you guys."
"Shame zhere none of us have x-ray vison to see ze crate contents," Medic said. "Unless...?" His eyes drifted off to Polite Spy, the BLU's resident Freak.
"Sorry, doctor," Polite Spy apologized. "But I do not have any x-ray abilities. And even if I did, I would be wrong for peaking at the presents under the tree, if you understand my metaphor."
"You're no fun." Soldier said before collapsing on the floor. The Train finally skid to a halt, pulling up at the station and gently moving the mercenaries lounging about the cart.
"*FFFZZZZZZZTTT* Arrival at Mann Co. Trade Plaza," The Conducter droned over the loudspeaker. "This train will return in 0200 hours, have a nice day and buy more hats." One by one, the mercenaries and Freak filed off the train, eager to get into the market and buy whatever they could afford.
The interior was a massive single room, complete with white walls, a pristine white floor, a bay window looming over a long airstrip that, oddly, is underused, a pair of massive soccer goal posts, and a casual pool in the center. All around were stands and stalls where Mann Co. merchants sold lethal weapons and hats to passerby purchasers, and people idly trading with others. After a minutes of gazing at the splendid sight, someone released the leash and the BLUs ran rampant throughout the stalls, leaving Polite Spy to wander about on his own accord.
It took Scout forever to locate the Key stand, but he finally found it. At the very center of the Plaza was a stall that sold various keys, where a man adorned in brown Mann Co. uniform stood behind a display case filled with a variety of Mann Co. Keys, all lined in a neat, straight row. Overcome with joy at finally being rid of those space-holding crates, Scout bolted to the stall and slammed his hand atop the case.
"Ten Standard-Issue Keys and two Strongbox Keys!" He ordered. The vendor gave a bored sigh, leaning behind the counter to retrieve Scout's purchase. The Boston batter twitched with anticipation of whatever existed inside those crates, drumming his fingers along the case and placing his wallet out for the fees. In a matter of seconds, the man pulled out a filled sack bag from below, jingling with Mann Co. Keys. To Scout, it was like receiving that one loaf of bread to stave off starvation, gazing at the majestic, yet ugly, sack filled with metallic lock-openers with joyous eyes. He slowly reached for the bag, like Adam touching God's hand in the Sistine Chapel, waiting for his suffering of constant crates to be over.
A RED Soldier adorned in a fancy military hat popped out from the side, sporting a stupid and manic grin, right in front of the Key-sack.
"Mine." He bluntly stated, before snatching the bag from the vendor's hand and bolting, laughing rapidly and manically all the way. Scout gaped at the vendor's hand, eyes wide as dinner plates and jaw dropped so far to the ground, you could park a truck. The vendor looked up at Scout, deciding to be done with the crazy, and went back inside his stall. Scout turned to the source where the mysterious RED Soldier ran off with his keys, both confused and enraged. He let out a furious scream, then ran into the crowd to bring the thief to justice, recover his precious keys, and remove some teeth.
Heavy, Medic, Sniper, and Demoman were all gathered at the foreign hats stall near the pool, trying on a variety of hats from other countries. Heavy had just slipped on an incredibly tiny fez, tying by a string to the bottom of his head, while posing for the others.
"Heavy looks like tiny circus monkey! Ha ha!" He chuckled, dancing about like said circus monkey.
"You and me should do some messing around, mate." Sniper said, adjusting the keffiyeh's headband. "Since I look like Lawrence of Arabia."
"Puns! Ha!" Heavy loudly guffawed, giving a hard slap on Sniper's back, sending the Australian to the floor.
"Ach, it's more fitting if the three of us take photos now," Demoman said, blowing at the feather on his turban. "Middle Eastern Mercenaries, that's our look now, laddies!"
"Well, I'll look for anything to replace this Geisha wig, then." Medic said, pulling said Japanese wig off his head. Running from between the stalls, Soldier came barreling in, a standard issue Shako bouncing on his head.
"Men! I just found something amazing!" Soldier breathlessly said.
"For the last time, Solly," Demoman groaned. "A pet store selling raccoons to keep Lt. Bites company isn't interesting for the lot of us."
"Not that, Demo!" Soldier said. "There's a BLU Demoman with a frying pan and pirate hat selling Stout Shakos for only two refined for all of us near the pool!" He grabbed Medic by the arm and dragged him along to see the new vendor.
"Doctor!" Heavy called, chasing after the two. Demoman sighed, leaving money for the vendor and taking off after the three. They eventually arrived to the pool, where exactly like Soldier said, a BLU Demoman wearing a pirate's hat with a treasure chest on the center and shutter-glasses, carrying a wooden shield and frying pan, stood next to a RED Dispenser and shouted to passerby in the crowd. He had a very cheerful grin on his face, constantly looking around for people to vend to.
"STOUT SHAKO FOR 2 REFINED!" He called. "STOUT SHAKO FOR 2 REFINED!" Medic looked carefully at the Freak, feeling an odd familiarity with this encounter. Then it hit him, and then his own palm did.
"Oh no... It's another Freak." He groaned.
"What kind of Freak sells Shakos for refined metal?" Heavy asked.
"I remember in zat file something about a Freak of the same description by ze name of Demopan." Medic recounted. "It said he was just a nuisance." Demoman started walking off, eyeing the Freak carefully.
"I'll get on the phone," Demoman said. "Will tell Miss Pauling we found another Freak that broke loose." The others nodded as Demoman vanished into the crowd. Demopan turned his head towards the BLUs, a wide grin spread across his face. He quickly ran up to the mercenaries, staring at them from a distance that was not meant for personal space.
"Hi, Stout Shako Demoman." Soldier greeted, unperturbed by the Freak's disregard of distance. Demopan stepped back a little, holding his pan out like one would properly use the instrument. With a rolled of his arm, a BLU Stout Shako appeared on the pan.
"A deal for you, one Stout Shako," He said. With another roll of his arm, the Shako vanished, leaving large chunks of refined metal on the pan. "For two refined." The three mercenaries exchanged glances. Soldier slowly scooted away, as he no longer had two refined and purchased a hat already, and took off into the stalls. Medic and Heavy looked through their packs for two refined, hoping to get away from the Freak, for as cheerful as he was, there was something creepy about him. Finally discovering that neither of them had two refined, Heavy decided to go with plan B.
"No thanks." Heavy said, dismissively waving Demopan off. The sound of glass breaking could be heard as Demopan's face immediately became confused.
"Wha?" He asked.
"We don't have two hunks of refined metal, herr Demopan." Medic said. "Plus, Shakos really aren't that good of a hat." They sat in silence as Demopan stood back, his smile quickly turning into a frown. He removed his shutter-shades and tucked them away in his pockets, glaring at both Heavy and Medic. He let out an enraged scream before swinging with great force at Heavy.
*CLANG!*
Spy, Engineer, and Pyro were gathered around one of the gun stalls, carefully checking each of the weapons on sale for flaws or fabrications. Spy looked down the barrel of a small Enforcer handgun, Pyro cautiously scanned the tank of a Degreaser Flamethrower for nicks, and Engineer fiddled with the lengths on a Jag Wrench. Amidst their checks on the weapons, Spy saw a RED Soldier wearing a fancy army hat barrel roll through crowds of people, and Scout chasing after him. Scout eventually skidded to a halt at the stand, furious and panting for breath.
"I've *gasp* been *gasp* ROBBED!" He panted.
"What?" Spy asked. Scout pulled out a can of soda, quickly chugged it, and rejuvenated his stamina to explain his problem.
"I was buyin' some keys at a key stand for the crap-load of crates I got," Scout explained. "So I paid for it, and just as the vendor was about to give me my keys, that RED numbskull snatched 'em and took off. Been trying to catch him ever since."
"You haven't caught him yet?" Engineer asked, incredulously. "Ain't you the fastest among us?"
"I've been after him for about 30 minutes now, and he ain't givin' up!" He exclaimed. "He ain't normal. I bet he's one of those escaped Freaks." Spy looked off in the direction the Freak took off in, judging by his erratic movements, the conclusion was completely classified.
"If a Freak is loose in a public area like this, even on Mann Co. property," Spy muttered. "There will be mass chaos." He tossed some money to the vendor, and along with the others, took off in the direction of the Freak, hoping to stop a catastrophe and get some answers.
Polite Spy didn't bring any money with him, as they never got anything whilst in the Facilities and Blutarch didn't pay him for working with the BLUs. So instead, he chose to look out the six-inch thick window at the airstrip, wondering what it would be like outside of Mann Co. and the Administrator's world. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when Heavy crashed into the window next to him, leaving behind a massive crack and a dazed Russian.
"Heavy? Are you alright?" Polite Spy asked.
"Sandvich is flying..." Heavy groggily said, watching the winged sandwiches flutter about his head. As Polite Spy began to shake Heavy to consciousness, the loud screams of Medic drew close to him until the source itself was next to him.
"Polite Spy!" Medic exclaimed. "A Freak is here and just attacked Heavy and I!"
"Who?" Polite Spy asked. To answer his question, Demopan plowed his way through the crowd, knocking several people over and skidding feet away from the mercenaries and Freak. Polite Spy blinked a moment, trying to get a read on what Freak was now before him.
"Demopan?" He asked. Demopan's angry face slowly shifted to one of confusion, but all it took was one look at the yellow fisherman's hat and the trader Freak beamed with joy.
"Polite Spy, boyo!" Demopan cheered, wrapping Polite Spy in a tight bear hug. "I haven't seen ye since the Containment Breach!"
"I take it you were an escapee?" Polite Spy asked, trying to pull away from Demopan's grip.
"Nah, Master Hale sent me here for work!" Demopan said, releasing his hug and tossing his pan. "Two refined don't come cheap, ya know."
"Then why did you attack my friends?" Polite Spy queried, gesturing to Medic and Heavy. Demopan's eye shifted between the BLUs and Polite Spy, his simple brain trying to piece the information together.
"Wait, those gutless lily-livered mercenaries are friends of yours?" Demopan asked. Polite Spy responded with a nod. "Ach... Now I feel embarrassed. I just wanted to give a Stout Shako for two refined, but they wouldn't give."
"We said we didn't have any!" Medic exclaimed, continuing to awaken Heavy from his unconsciousness.
"Well, I'm sorry lads." Demopan apologized, bowing his head. "I've been a bit wee wound up, lately, what with lots of fine lads 'n lassies buying Shakos." Polite Spy walked over to the saddened trader, and placed a hand upon his shoulder.
"If it would make anything better," Polite Spy said. "I will trade two refined for a Stout Shako." Demopan's expression lit up like a light bulb, producing a Stout Shako from the confines of god-knows-where, and an open palm waiting for the exchange. However, just as both parties revealed their traded goods, the RED Soldier Freak appeared between the two, and snatched the metal and hat from the two BLU Freaks.
"Mine!" He declared, before barreling into the crowd. Demopan stared in shock, looking at the incomplete trade before them. He knew that Freak, and hated him with a passion. He interrupted a fair trade, and the inner master trader within him wanted, no demanded justice. Unsheathing his frying pan, he held it like a sword and pointed it in the direction of the runaway Freak.
"RubberFruit! I'll have yer head as a belt bangle!" He roared, charging into the crowd. Polite Spy simply sighed, rubbing the side of his head, and following in pursuit to hopefully diffuse a Freak Fight between the mildly unstable Freaks.
Freak-lopedia
Demopan
Demopan is a BLU Demoman Freak, created by Reddit user ichbinpwnzilla. Demopan is a trader Freak, going about the world selling Stout Shakos for a pair of Refined Metal. He is very proud of his work, open to trade with anyone. To those whom accepts, he thanks and befriends the recipient. To those foolish enough to decline, Demopan will violently assault them with his Frying Pan, nonstop. He is considerable dim-witted, but has a heart of gold, if one gets to know him.
RubberFruit
RubberFruit is a RED Soldier TF2Sona, created as the Gmod Representation of famed Gmodder RubberFruit. RubberFruit is an insane Freak, constantly traveling about and causing trouble, namely through theft. He steals anything he wants from anyone, be it physical objects or even sound itself, and will defend whatever he stole with his life. He is almost as erratic as Stu Pidface, and possibly just as dangerous. He is rumored by many Freaks to be the father of Painis Cupcake.
