Chapter 31
BLU Base
True to Colonel Dyson's word, several trucks carrying supplies and the battle-weary Freaks and REDs arrived to BLU Base just before dinner. While the BLUs were still less than pleased at having to care for their bitter rivals until their base was repaired, upon seeing the state of the REDs, how disheveled and damaged they were from Doppelganger's rampage, their hatred was slightly subsided by pity. Amongst the REDs were the Freaks who aided in the defeat of Doppelganger: Major Scout Guy, Medizard, Magic Mann, Soldine, Seeman, Seedler, Orangeman, and Handsome Rogue. Said Freaks were welcomed with open arms by Polite Spy, and would receive housing separate from the Mercenaries, much to the relief of all parties. As an added bonus, Saxton did indeed follow up on his offer to put up boundaries… granted they were made out of wooden crates and patched up with tree sap that he 'punched right out of fifty pine trees in one swing', but they were adequate boundaries. As the REDs settled down in one of the cleared out storage rooms, the BLUs gathered in their conference room and decided right to get down to business. Spy looked at the gathering of his eight comrades, each one sporting a look if irritation and tiredness.
"So, we now have our sworn enemy living under our roof…" Spy said, taking a puff of his cigarette. "While some may see this as an irritation, I see this as a chance at bettering ourselves. Growing more connected as a team, one would say." He briefly glanced around the room. "Despite ze fact I hate all of you."
"The feeling's mutual, Spy!" Scout interrupted, earning a few chuckles from the others.
"But despite zis, we still remain strong." Spy continued. "So, I have reached an agreement with my RED counterpart, and we have decided upon a few cease-fire rules." He held out his hand and began listing off rules. "Rule one: no killing each other. All our weapons will have the ammo removed and melee weapons stored elsewhere." Heavy suddenly felt an urge to check on Sasha. "Rule two: Keep away from our personal rooms. Zey do the same for us, we shall extend ze same courtesy." Soldier loudly scoffed. "Rule three: the Intelligence Rooms and Redmond's office are off limits. Even to us."
"Is Redmond even aware that we have somewhat unwanted guests?" Sniper asked. Ever since the Freaks started appearing, the Mann Bros. had oddly gone quiet, only communicating through the odd letter on the rarest occasion.
"Maybe the crotchety old fart finally up and died?" Scout suggested. His eyes widened at realization of what he just said. "Oh crap! Who's going to sign our paychecks?!"
"Relax, Scout," Engineer said, tilting his hardhat over his goggles. "The Life Extender has kept him alive since my grand-pappy built it for him. As much as we want him and his brother to kick the bucket, they'll be going for a long time." Scout eased up a bit, but was still perturbed.
"With zat out of ze way," Spy said, drawing to a conclusion. "We simply just avoid bothering zem, and we'll be fine. Meeting adjourned." The BLUs stood from their seats and began piling out of the room. Hopefully this will be a temporary situation, and will clear up over time, most of the mercenaries thought. Everything would be fine.
Day One
After doing some tinkering on his latest explosives, Demoman left his workshop and walked with a simple jaunt to his nearby cooler where he left his bottles of scrumpy. Feeling like he deserved a cold one after hard work, he chuckled to himself as he found the blue and white cooler waiting for him by the door.
"Let's go have us a gait, heh heh heh!" Demoman said, opening the cooler. His jaw dropped when he saw that the only thing in the cooler was a bunch of ice, several bottles noticeably absent. Shaking his head, he closed the cooler and scratched at the scruff of his beard. "Did I drink up me workshop stash again?" Shrugging his shoulders, the Scotsman walked off, searching for one of his other stashes of alcohol. He wandered into the mess hall, where Heavy was enjoying a sandwich and chatting with Medic. Demoman paid them no heed, instead locating a blue plastic barrel sitting in the corner. He gleefully ran over to the barrel, popped off the lid and extracted the cooler within. Just as he opened the cooler, he was once again surprised at the lack of beer bottles within.
"Something wrong, Demoman?" Medic called a little ways away. Quickly hiding the cooler in the barrel, Demoman turned towards his comrades in arms.
"Nah, nothing's wrong, lads." Demoman said, putting the best poker face on that he could. "But, erm, did anyone possibly come over here and prod around this barrel of no purpose?"
"Where you keep Mess Hall Stash?" Heavy asked, much to Demoman's annoyance. It was no secret that Demoman hid emergency stashes of alcohol all across the base and how he did a poor job at keeping them secret, but no one really bothered to deal with him about it. "No, we have only been here for ten minutes." Demoman let off a loud groan, storming off in search of one of his other stashes. Over the course of two hours, Demoman found every single cache he hid and the results were always the same. The bottles of scotch behind the Miss Pauling cutout in the firing range, gone. The flasks of whiskey taped under Medic's operation table, gone. The six pack of beer behind the 'mystery mold' in the upstairs fridge, gone. Even his special emergency vodka he kept buried under the floorboards of Spy's Smoking Room, gone!
"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS ME BOOZE?!" Demoman shouted, sweaty and furious as he stood alone in the hallway. There had to be something alcoholic left in the base, there had to! The Scotsman had to find one before his 20-year hangover collectively killed him. Suddenly, a sound only angels at Oktoberfest could make echoed down the halls. The popping of a cork, the hiss of escaping oxygen, it can only mean one thing. Demoman turned around and saw his RED counterpart standing in the hallway, a wide-eyed look of surprise on his face, opening a bottle of DeGroot Rum. His.
"Uh… Hi?" RED Demoman said, slightly unnerved by his BLU counterpart's crazed look. BLU Demoman wasted no time in yowling at the top of his lungs and charged furiously at RED Demoman. RED Demo immediately popped the cork back on the bottle, and was rammed with the force of a combine by BLU Demo. The two began rolling about the Base, knocking over anything that wasn't nailed down in a desperate attempt to retrieve the sweet nectar of life. In their tussle, they managed to accidentally break four tables, six of Engineer's machines, twelve chairs, nine beds, both of RED Scout's legs, and one egg. Eventually, their brawl led them to the garage, and somehow the bottle was knocked out of their hands and ended up right underneath the tire of Sniper's van. And Sniper was getting into his car.
"Bloody grocery shoppin' duty." He said, starting his car. Time seemed to slow down for the Demomen, watching as the tires rolled backwards and shattered their hopes, dreams, and bottle of liquor all in one go. It was the most tragic sight in the world, just fitting enough to have Ave Maria sound out of nowhere, as the glass cracked and spilled out the rum all over the ground. Once the van drove off, RED and BLU Demo both gawked at the remains of the bottle, glanced at each other, and embraced, openly weeping. Watching the entire scene from the doorway was BLU Scout, who was trying his absolute hardest not to burst into laughter.
Day Three
Clanging rang out across the walls of Engineer's workshop as he worked tirelessly on his latest project. He paused for a moment, putting his Jag Wrench down and wiped the sweat from his brow. Most of his inventions were designed purely for the War Games, his sentry, dispenser and teleporter, all meant to do more harm than good. But with this little gizmo he'd been spending three weeks on building, he could revolutionize the world itself!
"An Inter-Dimensional Window, eh?" Engineer was startled when he heard his own voice talk to him. He turned to his left and saw his RED Counterpart standing next to him, looking over his plans. "Now don't that beat all? Ah'm working on a project much like this myself." BLU Engineer frowned, knowing his duplicate was working on a project like his Window. "Granted, mine's a Trans-Universal TV, and Ah'm halfway near completion."
"Well, Ah'll have ya know," BLU Engineer said, snatching up his blueprints and rolling them up. "Ah'm just about to put on the finishing touches on this little beaut'." He slipped a blast helmet on and grabbed a blow torch. "So why don't y'all just step aside and let me finish mah work." RED Engineer stepped aside, watching his BLU host do his work. The machine in front of him looked like a small blue television set lacking a window screen. Inside were several sparking circuits, coils, wires, and more techno-babble. What most-likely powered the whole thing was the glowing chunk of Australium in the back, hooked up like a battery. It looked remarkably like his own Trans-Universal TV, only it was blue as opposed to red. He mused for a moment if it survived the explosion, but then took note of one glaring issue with the machine.
"Hey, pardner," RED Engineer interrupted. "Y'all wired that coil wrong over there. Too many loops."
"Did that intentionally." BLU Engineer replied, sparks dancing against his mask. "Needed the extra power output to get the Window to open, so Ah had to put in extra coils." He stepped back, a smirk on his face as he held two plugs next to each other. "Alright, let's get this hoedown started!" He connected the plugs, but the instant he did so, he found himself suddenly pumped with five-hundred volts of electricity. The voltage froze BLU Engie in a pained look, while his legs flailed about spastically. Hilariously enough, the sudden power boom turned on the radio right to a Southern Radio. RED Engineer sighed, slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, and unplugged the machine, sending BLU Engie in a smoking heap on the ground.
"Warned ya, pardner." RED Engie snidely remarked. "The extra coils causes an absurd output that could've fried y'all like bacon." He helped BLU Engie to his feet. "Don't fret none, Ah made the same mistake when Ah built my Trans-Universal TV." BLU Engie coughed out a cloud of smoke. "Here, Ah can show y'all what Ah did to remedy the power output." He walked over to the machine and removed the coil of disaster. Reaching into his pocket, RED Engie plucked out a rubber band and grabbed a smaller coil, hooking the pieces in place. "Now try it." BLU Engie shakily picked up the two plugs and carefully put them together, expecting to be shocked again. Much to his surprise, he didn't receive a single watt, but his machine suddenly flared to life. The screen on the Window began to glow a bright white, until finally turning to a static-filled screen.
"It… it worked?" BLU Engie asked, walking over to his machine. The Texan turned one of the knobs on the Window, changing the image on the screen to that of a grassy field… that was being grazed by CENTAURS! "It actually worked! YEEEHAW!" The two Texans locked arms and had themselves a hoedown. RED Engie grinned to himself.
Sometimes you just need like-minds to get stuff done. He thought to himself.
Day Seven
The Firefighters made it just in time before the flames could grow out of hand. Luckily everyone managed to make it out of the building in time, and the damages were minimal. It happened out of nowhere, both Scouts running down the halls, screaming about a fire breaking out, and everyone quickly evacuated. Miss Pauling politely thanked the Firemen for their job, and once they drove off, turned towards the soot covered mercenaries.
"Alright, who started the fire?" She asked. Almost instantly, all hands pointed at the two Pyros, their hands held behind their backs. "Why am I not surprised...? And why did you set the base on fire?" The two mumbling masked menaces turned to each other, then back at the crowd before them… and produced tea cups and a tea kettle from behind their backs. The sound of over twenty people simultaneously slapping themselves in the face could be heard across the badlands for miles.
Day Thirteen
Soldier was the sole occupant of the workout room today, working on improving his muscles for 'incoming communist invasion'. At the moment, he was attempting to beat his record for number of push-ups. Out of his standard military uniform, the disgruntled American patriot wore a blue sleeveless undershirt, his standard brown pants, and his helmet, and was sweating so much you could fill a bucket.
"337…338…339…" Soldier counted, struggling as he continued to exercise. "340…341…342…343…"
"Forty four!" Shouted the RED Scout, passing by on his crutches. Soldier ignored him and continued to count.
"45…46…47…" His eyes shot open. "SON OF A CUSSING CUSS WORD!" RED Scout started howling with laughter. Soldier shot up, practically frothing at the mouth. "I'm going to stab you with those crutches!" RED Scout began pitifully scrambling away, while Soldier groggily chased after him. It was a chase of all ages, outranking the Snail vs. Tortoise battle any day. In the end, RED Scout won, due to BLU Soldier suddenly being distracted by a loaf of bread… to which he subsequently began punching.
Day Nineteen
Sniper's bladder threatened to explode as he continued to wait for the bathroom. Whoever was in there had been in there for over thirty minutes! Unless Miss Pauling was suddenly using their bathroom, no normal person should be taking this long. He wrapped his knuckles on the door, sweat leaking down his forehead.
"Will you bloody hurry it up in there?!" Sniper exclaimed. Finally, the door swung open, and out came his RED lookalike, clutching about thirty odd jars of Jarate. The two exchanged a dirty look, then RED Sniper left to his own devices. "Wanker." He muttered, waddling into the bathroom. Sniper shut the door, grabbed about six glass jars, set them down on the toilet, and… You know the rest.
Day Twenty Five
Both Heavies were currently in Medic's infirmary, sporting numerous bruises, broken bones, and pieces of furniture and silverware wedged in their bodies. The result of a horrible battle of who could have the last sandwich. Now the mess hall has to be renovated and several of the mercenaries went without lunch. BLU Medic sighed, leaving the two Russians confined in their beds. He did, wonder, however, how Polite Spy was handling his guest situation, seeing as he and the other Freaks haven't been seen of late. Just as Medic rounded the corner, he came face to face with the RED Demoman, only he seemed a little different. He wore thick yellow sunglasses, had an orange and black bandanna tied across his forehead, sported a red party hat, a pair of white Earbuds in his ears, and Christmas ornaments on his bandoliers in place of his explosives. In addition, he seemed to be carrying a boom-box and a keg of beer in both of his hands.
"Gah…" Medic stammered, rubbing the back of his head. "Are you planning zomezing, RED Demoman?"
"I'm here for the party." The Demoman said, the smell of several blends of alcohol on his breath. "Intelligent Heavy invited me." Medic was about to raise an objection, but the pot-wearing Heavy Freak quickly arrived and embraced the odd-looking Demoman in a tight bear-hug.
"Fratman! So glad you could come!" Intelligent Heavy cheered. "Other leetle Freaks are waiting to get party started!" The two sported massive grins, and immediately took off down the hall. Medic only could stand there, completely flabbergasted. Eventually, he walked over to his operating table and removed the flask of whiskey tapped underneath.
"I don't care if he gets mad," Medic grumbled. "I need zis."
Meanwhile, in the Freak's Rooms
The Freaks had the benefit of receiving accommodations far from the two mercenary teams, and have greatly been pleased to have moments of alone time. Granted, things were getting a little boring (in spite of the fire a few weeks ago), and the Freaks were left with nothing to do. So, Intelligent Heavy decided to gain the assistance of the Number One Party Freak of All Time: Fratman. Everyone was gathered in a storage room, filled with nothing but crates, just waiting to do something. Their prayers were finally answered, thankfully, when Intelligent Heavy arrived, holding Fratman in the air like he was the Holy Grail.
"LET'S BOOGIE!" Fratman exclaimed. All around the base, an extremely audible sound of partying could be heard, yet none could discern the source. Nor did they want to. The only real concern was who was going to clean up the eventual mess.
Day 30
A month had finally passed, and the RED Base was finally repaired. The REDs were overjoyed to finally get back to their own home, while the BLUs were just happy to have their base to themselves again. Miss Pauling arrived in a pickup truck to haul the REDs away, while a few HECU Soldiers led by Ghost came in military vehicles for the Freaks. Intelligent Heavy and Polite Spy said their farewells to Major and his crew before they were loaded up, and likewise exchanged hugs as they too parted ways.
"Take care, my friend." Polite Spy said, patting the pot-hatted Freak on the back.
"You too, leetle Spy." Intelligent Heavy said, returning the pat with more strength than anticipated. "Spyper and Painis will be happy you are well." Intelligent Heavy boarded the truck alongside his RED employers and waved happily. The BLUs gathered around, watching the REDs take off, and decided to give them a simultaneous proper send off.
"Can't wait to shoot ya in the face!" Scout shouted, before spitting on the ground, the other BLUs following in suit. The REDs responded in appropriate fashion: extending the middle finger and laughing uproariously. As the REDs drove off, Ghost approached the BLUs, holding an official looking document.
"Somethin' else ya got fer us?" Engineer asked, taking the paper. "As if housin' our rivals weren't enough." Engineer held out the paper and read the contents out loud to everyone. "Mercenaries of Builder's League United, once again we thank you for playing host to the Mercenaries of Reliable Excavation Division. This was a task no doubt difficult for you, but simple the same. The War Games, at the moment, are still on hold for another week, so the HECU/Mann Co. Branch 'Agents of the Eye' would like to request your aid in a matter that could cause calamity for both ours and the Freak worlds. Report to the Eye In The Sky in 0200 hours for debriefing and discussion of payment. DO NOT INFORM THE ADMINISTRATOR IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIVES. Signed, Agent Luke Cinder."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Scout asked. "Hey, masked guy, what's the- where'd he go?" The BLUs all looked and saw Ghost and the HECU vehicles were gone. Not even tire tracks were visible on the New Mexican soil. Engineer rolled up the document and tucked it in his overalls and turned to Sniper.
"Sniper, get yer keys." He said, adjusting his goggles. "We're going on a road trip."
Freak-Lopedia
Fratman
Fratman is a RED Demoman Freak, created by YouTuber UchihaMidnight. Fratman exists for one reason and one reason only: Partying. Wherever this jovial fellow goes, people are guaranteed to have a good time. Using his party-infused sunglasses (which he burps out for no reason whatsoever), he can put anyone into the party mood, causing people to sporadically dance and act festive, yet has no effect on party poopers. Fratman is classified as a lesser Reality Warper, able to summon things to help liven the mood and start the party, yet has little control over his powers. Despite being a Reality Warper, Fratman has the same level of durability as a normal Demoman, and can die easily. Fratman is often carrying festive equipment, has a fond love of mini-golf, and has a blood-alcohol level of 5… How it has not killed him yet, we do not know.
Author's Note: Before anyone asks, yes the Inter-Dimensional Window and Trans-Universal TV are McGuffins to be used in the future. For what purpose, you may wonder... That's for us to know and you to find out. NYEH HEH HEH HEH! *Jumps out window*
~IDA Official, Head Writer Mask
