They weren't safe.
Hydro was too large for three men to patrol at night. They had to stay together to make sure they were all right. Unfortunately, that meant sleeping on top of dusty mattresses in the control room. There had been some salvageable blankets in the Medic's infirmary, but it was too hot to use them. At first, the thought of sleeping felt like an impossible goal. Each man was too eager to talk to the other, disturbed by the slightest hum of machinery or flickers of light. Sure enough, they drifted off, leaving one man to take guard for a few hours.
Or at least, that would have happened, had they all not fallen asleep.
The Engineer was the first to realize their mistake. His eyes felt so dry, eyelids too heavy. He wanted to fall back asleep. That nagging need to double-check everything had woke him up. He rolled his head to the left, then to the right. Both the Demoman and the Sniper were deep under.
He should have been mad, but they were okay. The Engineer knew that all three of them would have heard something, had a threat shown up. The worst that could happen was an invasion of invisible robot spies. His back chilled and clenched at the thought. Spies. That was the last thing he wanted to fight. At least the rest of his enemies were within sight and usually thick enough to wander into his machinery nests. But, a spy? Even a genius could be beaten with trickery.
The Engineer leaned to the right. He watched the Demoman sleep for a moment. Lowering his eyebrows, he started fishing up memories of what the Demoman was like before this disaster. Well, he did always seem to run into trouble when the supernatural came to attack them. He was a bit surly and grouchy. He did love his mom, though. The Engineer watched the Demoman's one good eye twitching beneath his eyelid. Yeah, the one eye was hard to forget about.
He'd fought the other one once. Didn't quite like it, much.
Didn't they drink together? Sing goofy songs? Conspire over chemical formulas, create new bombs, and develop weapons? How could he forget all of that? It was hard to forgive himself, even if it wasn't his fault. He was a man of emotional fortitude. He expected himself to rise to the occasion and overcome the obstacles in his path, even if he was hobbled. To be so weak as to be overpowered by a machine…that didn't sit well with the stubborn Engineer.
There was a groan behind him. The Engineer smiled, then turned onto his other hip. The Sniper sounded like he was having a rougher time sleeping. His back was probably giving him fits. The Engineer remembered times when the Sniper would have to stop in the middle of a battle to get his back adjusted. Usually by the Texan, sometimes by the Medic. It was amusing how such a stubborn, willful survivalist could have such an exposed weakness.
The Engineer reached forward. First with his right hand, then with his left. The urge to fix problems never left him. He ran warm knuckles down the Sniper's spine, trying to get him to settle down. Flesh shivered at his touch. The Engineer pulled back. This felt strange. Too forward.
The Sniper's breath hitched.
The Engineer sighed. "Sorry, Stretch."
His old friend turned to face him. Affection fled. A dark, vile terror flooded his guts. Light caught dark, sticky ichor oozing down the Sniper's face. The Engineer reached for his wound, wondering if the scratch had torn open. He wiped his thumb across the thin man's cheek. Blood parted, then surged forward. It trailed down his chest, on his back, down the dirty mattress.
"Mundy! Wake up!" the Engineer yelled. "You're bleedin' all over the place!"
The Sniper's eyes flickered open, and the Engineer froze. Gone were bright, sharp irises. In their wake were milky, clouded eyes, unable to focus on anything. He watched membranes twitch, trying to find the Engineer in unending darkness. His jaw dropped, shaking with pain.
"Mate," the Sniper moaned. "Turn it off."
Reality hit the Engineer like a sledgehammer. Instantly, he shot upright. His heart was racing, his human hand sweaty. His adrenaline glands were pumping his body full of energy. A practiced chant went through the Engineer's mind. Just a dream! It was okay!
The Engineer turned around and flipped the sleeping Sniper over. No bleeding. His heart slowed down at the discovery, his breath leaving his lungs in one long sigh. He was okay.
"Bloody hell, Dell," the Demoman grumbled. "Bad dream?"
The Engineer rubbed his eyes. "Yeah."
Was this what his new life was going to be like? Worrying about when his teammates were going to be hurt and maimed again? He crossed his legs, then sighed. If he wasn't worried about waking the Sniper up, he would have checked his eyes, too. Now, guilt was harassing the Engineer. Had he woken up the Demoman? Or, had he been on watch?
The Demoman relaxed on his left hip. "What happened?"
"Don't care to talk about it, much," the Engineer whispered. "Just a nightmare. That's all."
The Demoman clicked his tongue, then shook his head. He knew when the brainiac was full of crap. "Something bad happened to the Sniper, right? Unless you like pawin' sleepin' lads. Seems a might low to me."
Well, it was hard to talk his way out of that one. The Engineer bobbed his head, then gave up. "I thought he was bleedin'. He opened his eyes, and I thought he'd gone blind."
"Gee. What a terrible thing to not be able to see," the Demoman snarked.
The Engineer shrunk down, then rubbed his face again. "Sorry." He realized he was rubbing his left eye, then apologized again. "Really sorry."
The Demoman shrugged. "No big deal, lad."
"Just scared the heck out of me," the Engineer rambled. "I suppose I was real used to this sort of thing at one point. Guess I just got to get used to it again."
"It is hard to see people ya like get blown to pieces," the Demoman agreed. "But, when it's your job, you learn to tolerate it. Or at least come to enjoy when the same bloody thing happens to your enemies."
That earned a little bit of a chuckle out of the Engineer. The Texan sighed, then tried to lay back down. "Just don't understand what he was talkin' about."
"Dream people say all kinds of dumb things," the Demoman replied.
The Engineer agreed. He laughed once, then settled down. "Yeah. 'Turn it off.' Like I leave anythin' on. Well, 'cept for the sentries." He tipped his head back, then started listing what the dream could have possibly meant. "Faucets were closed. Lights are off. Stovetop's not on. What's left?"
A quiet whirring answered him.
It wasn't a threatening sound. Really, he'd come to enjoy it. It was just the computers' fans running. They would sometimes click to switch tapes, but otherwise, they were pretty quiet. He'd even fallen asleep to its gentle humming. He could always count on the respawn machines to be running.
His eyes widened. "Respawn's on."
"Yeah," the Demoman confirmed.
The Engineer leapt off his mattress. He stumbled across the Sniper as he bolted for the computers. The Australian came to with a panicked jolt. He reached for his sunglasses and his rifle, wondering what in the hell was going on. Both he and the Demoman watched as the Engineer dove for the computer racks. He scooted himself behind one stand, then pulled the power cord. The machines sputtered, then fell silent.
The Sniper brushed his crooked, wild hair out of his face. "What in the hell, mate?"
"Respawn was on," the Engineer huffed.
Both the Demoman and the Sniper exchanged confused glances. That didn't seem like a problem. The Demoman cocked an eyebrow. "And that's bad because?"
"These machines—they're part of the respawn system network. Remember? All of our computers were wired together so if there were any problems, we'd respawn in the next base over. I had it rigged so that the system would tell me if any computers were broken. Automated phone calls, databases, programs," the Engineer rattled. He was out of breath as he yammered on. "This one was off 'cause we left this place. It's been off for years, 'n I turned it on!"
The Sniper's jaw lowered but didn't completely drop. "So, you're sayin'—"
"Gray locked Miss Paulin' from loggin' into the respawn system. He knows about it and how it runs," the Engineer interrupted the Sniper.
The Demoman started to catch up with the Engineer. "Then he might know what machines are on."
"And if he caught a computer runnin' that he didn't turn on…" the Engineer finally stopped to catch his breath.
The Sniper's voice gave away as he spoke. "He'll come lookin' for what did."
Another dismal night, another crappy hotel room.
The Scout's mother knew that her expectations had been too high. There was only so much that she and Miss Pauling could spend. They had to conserve their money, after all. It wasn't like the Engineer's truck was fuel efficient, and they both needed to eat. Heck, she was lucky that she wasn't sleeping in the truck's bed. She had just hoped for a little more out of New Orleans.
There was hardly any of the city's charm in the dingy hotel. No black iron balconies to smoke off of. No colorful lights outside her window. No blue-green, heavy-laden trees or bushes. Not even a touch of French architecture. All she had was swampy humidity in a flat, cookie-cutter room and loud men laughing outside the window in the middle of the night.
She sighed, pacing the room as Miss Pauling took stock of their supplies. The little mother hated going across the carpets with bare feet. They were rough and not very clean. However, her feet were aching. She couldn't stand the arches of her shoes any longer. Not to mention how dirty and torn her pantyhose were. She studied the brown carpet, then shook her head. "Who decorates with dhe color brown, anyway?"
"They probably bought the carpet in bulk," Miss Pauling answered.
"It's still gross," the Scout's mother grumbled. The rest of the room was hardly any testament to high aesthetics. "Lime green, orange, tan. Dhis can't be in style."
Miss Pauling shook her head. "Of all the problems we've had today, the room's decorations are bothering you the most?"
The Scout's mother crinkled her nose. "Well, not dhe most. I mean, I'm worried about finding my son and wondering where my beau ran off. What if he found another gal? I mean, romancing's part of his job. I get it. But it'd break my heart if he was with someone else." She stopped, then thought of something worse. "Oh, God! What if my son met a girl? He could be married with a kid! I could be a grandma, and I don't even know it!"
Miss Pauling shook her head. She liked the Scout's mom, she really did. But her son? He was a bit of an egotistical twerp. He couldn't exactly take the hint that the assistant was just not interested in him. She wouldn't rule out the possibility that such a string of events could happen, but she doubted it. Who would be that foolish to get hitched to him, anyway? And would he even want to settle down?
Of course, that didn't rule out the possibility that he could have knocked some sweet, dumb woman up. That wasn't the kind of thing a lady pointed out around someone's mom, though.
"Worrying about them won't help us find them," Miss Pauling said.
The Scout's mother sighed, then agreed. "Yeah. Just can't stop thinkin' about dhem, though. Or dhose stupid robots." She shook her head, then focused on the nasty couch in the corner of the room. "I just don't want to be found dead in a room with a big, dumb, green-and-orange striped couch is all."
That was a more legitimate concern. Perhaps not the part about the couch, but it wasn't out of the possibility that they could have been followed to New Orleans. Miss Pauling sat up a little straighter, then tapped her pen against her lips. "Suppose we should take turns watching each other?"
"What dhe heck?" the Scout's mother said. "Couldn't hurt."
Her body felt heavy as she stopped moving. Her shoulders and knees ached. Sitting in a car hadn't been good for her. Neither had fighting a fleet of robots. She slumped over to one of the two full-sized beds, then swatted the comforter away. She sighed, then flopped onto the bed. Even if she wasn't ready to sleep, she could use a little relaxation. The tough mattress and limp pillows were hardly comforting, but they would have to do.
"You know, you can have the first bath, if you want," Miss Pauling offered.
"Only if you want the first shift," the Scout's mother groaned. "Showers always make me tired."
Miss Pauling lifted an eyebrow. "Really?"
The Scout's mother grinned. "Yeah. I was always dhe last to take baths in dhe house. Just got used to falling asleep after that." She pulled herself onto her elbows, then smiled. "Of course, I'd wash my hair in dhe sink in the morning. But, usually, it was nine before I could get around to washing it. Eight kids meant washing a lot of dishes. At least, until dhey were old enough to take on chores."
The mother stopped her rambling. She flipped onto her back, then sank down into the mattress. Her voice cracked a little bit. "I really miss dhem."
"It would be hard to go from such a busy home to just yourself," Miss Pauling nodded.
"I really liked being a mom. I mean, I wish I would have been a little older before I started cranking out kids, but…" The Scout's mother paused to gather herself again. "I miss having someone to hold 'n take care of. You know? I liked knowing dhat someone needed me."
Miss Pauling raised her head from her notebook. Something about the way the older woman said that struck a chord in her. Nostalgic memories of her job returned. Days spent organizing fights, watching security cameras, taking notes—that had been good. She missed the mercenaries bickering with each other, drinking and laughing, always coming up with some crazy new scheme. She even missed their stupid hats. Even when she had only one team to look after, at least she had something to do. Sitting in that apartment, kept hostage at gunpoint—that ate some part of her away. Perhaps she wasn't as maternal as the Scout's mother, but she did understand that need to manage and interact with others.
"For what it's worth? I'm glad you're here," Miss Pauling said. "I could have never gotten here without you."
The Scout's mother waved a hand at her. "Ah, kid."
"I'm serious!" A nervous little laugh escaped Miss Pauling. "Without you, I would still be stuck in Teufort. I don't think I would have even been able to leave town for the rest of my life."
"Ah, kid." The Scout's mother gave her a smile. "You're a peach, you know dhat? I would love to have you as a daughter-in-law!"
Miss Pauling's face blanched. "L-let's not get ahead of ourselves."
Her stammering brought a wheezing laugh out of the Scout's mother. She tried to suppress it but ended up snorting. Miss Pauling buried her head in her calculations, trying to hide as her face went from white to red. She was starting to realize where the Scout had gotten his embarrassing attitude from. That, and his damn nose and chin.
The assistant wanted to talk about anything else. "S-So. What's the first thing you and the Spy are going to talk about, once we get him fixed up?"
"Well," the Scout's mother sighed. She pulled her knees up to her chest. "False alarm."
It took Miss Pauling a moment to understand what the mother was trying to say. "Oh. Oh! I—didn't know that was an issue!"
The Scout's mother went pink, bashful. "It's…well, we've known each other for a long time, Miss P. Like, longer dhan I've had my youngest. And I…Well, I'm kind of running out of time, you know? Now or never. And for all dhe crap he's put me through, dhe least he can do is help me get a girl! And…" She whistled, then slunk down. She folded her hands on her stomach, then gave a sad smile. "It's not like I'm expecting him to be a daddy or anything. I just want to know dhat I'd always have a part of him with me, no matter what he's doing or where he is. 'Cause I know he's a flirt, and a jerk, and it's part of his job, but…"
"You love him," Miss Pauling finished the little mother's rambling.
A soft silence filled the room. The Scout's mother didn't have to confirm Miss Pauling's statement. She let it lay, gentle, quiet and warm. A small smile perked up along the edges of the little mother's lips. She wiped at her eyes, but no tears spilled out. A lonely, longing animal was skulking inside of her, a tiger unfed. It was only by keeping still and strong that she was able to contain its frustration.
Miss Pauling rubbed her right cheek. "You know, my former employers were working on this stupid machine on one of the bases. They kept calling it a pregnancy machine. Not sure what in the hell they were going to do with it, but that's always something we could investigate."
"A what?" the Scout's mother asked. "Wait—do you mean dhose two Mann guys? Weren't dhey brothers? What in dhe—"
"I don't know. I really don't want to think about it, either," Miss Pauling cringed. "All I know is that it apparently ran on coal."
The Scout's mother squinted. "Well, I guess if worse comes to worse." She flicked her eyes open, then gasped. "Oh, crap in a hat! Weren't we supposed to call those guys?"
Miss Pauling jerked straight up. The little mother was right. She pulled the piece of paper with Hydro's telephone number out of her pocket, then turned to the nightstand. She pushed aside a phonebook. It landed with a heavy splat on the ground. She dialed the number on the bright orange phone, then started tapping her pen on the nightstand. Hopefully, they were there.
She smiled as there was a click on the other end of the line. "Are you there? It's me."
It disappeared just as quickly in the next two seconds. "What do you mean you might have given away your position?"
There had been a light on last night, but it was gone now.
An old, square face hovered over a switchboard. He had thought the equipment had long since died. He had no reason to mess with it, but he hadn't unplugged it, either. It was lifeless again. Still, he was certain he'd seen a blue light glowing.
Gray grimaced. His robots wouldn't have been in here, would they? He had programmed them to be subservient, after all. They would stay away from his private quarters. Maybe he needed to run a few diagnostic checks. He hated to spend too much time fretting over computers when there were other projects to work on, but he had to make sure he wasn't going senile.
Well, wasn't going more senile.
The robotics expert booted up a computer coated in yellowing plastic. He typed in his credentials, then began sifting through his systems. The services that acted as hive minds for his machines were still running strong. Nothing appeared to have powered off or crashed during the night. He continued flipping through logs and tables, trying to find anything out of the ordinary.
He raised his head, then chuckled. What was he thinking? He knew only one program was acting out of the ordinary.
Gray pulled up reports on his memory suppressing devices. Another one had failed. Not a huge surprise, at this point. There was only one that was still functioning. He wouldn't be shocked to see that fail by the end of the day. He didn't know what would come of this complication. All he knew was that he had to prepare himself for any foolish visitors popping into his bases.
Wait. Bases. That was it.
He had pulled that old device from Helen's offices after he had finally trounced those pesky mercenaries from Teufort. At the time, it had just been his trophy. Now, it was his clue. Someone had been messing around with the respawn system again. He typed a command line argument for the old program, then ran it. Perhaps that meddling Miss Pauling had been trying to log in again. He really should have tried to kill her a little more.
New data flooded his monitor. The old man crossed his brittle fingers, then studied the logs. There were bits and pieces of low-level garbage that always seemed to be running. Some sort of satellite feed, as far as he could tell. More than just that was in this system today. There were hours' worth of logs. Three men had been detected as active on a far-flung base sometime between ten last night and two this morning. After that, the logs fell silent once more.
Gray smiled behind his gnarled hands. "Hydro, hmm?"
Author's Note
…I really don't have anything. Sorry, guys. I spend so much time writing each day that I just don't even know what to say after a while.
But, I hope it's been a good experience for you.