So a meeting was called, albeit in quite short notice. There were no details included in the summoning, but everybody found out through one way or another. However, when the team reassembled on that very day, they eventually realised that one of their members was missing.
"Hey, Where's Pyro?"
"Yeah, are we waitin' up for him or something?"
"Pyro won't be joining us today." Medic informed them.
"Y'know, that's actually kind of a relief."
Engi and Medic couldn't see this but Heavy was secretly empathising with Scout. It wasn't that Heavy didn't like him, he was just weary of him. The man just seemed to have a particularly short-fuse and his behaviour was rather unpredictable. One moment, you think you're getting along, the next he's coming at you with his axe. It was just too difficult to keep up with his erratic patterns.
"Is he dead?" Was Soldier's next question on the matter.
"Nup! He's still as alive as me aunt Marta."
Sniper smelled something a little fishy. "Then why isn't the bloke here?"
"We'll get to that. For now just follow me."
"This better be worth my time, Hill-Billy." Spy tested, narrowing his eyes at the Texan. "I have very beautiful women waiting for my in my hotel and I'll be damned if I spend my entire evening cramped in a room with nothing but sweaty deranged men."
"Sniper's favourite!" Scout burst into fits of laughter. "Geddit, Snipes? It's cause you're- OOF!"
The Aussie smirked to himself as he sauntered past the Bostonian's collapsing figure, the black Scot cackling and giving him an approving hi-5 along the way.
"Yeh, mate. Yeh, you did!"
It wasn't entirely professional of him, but it was just too good to pass up the opportunity to kick him where it hurt the most.
The aggressive gesture threw caution to the rest of the team, but most of them just laughed at the young man's expense and walked right on by.
"Medic..." Scout wheezed, clutching at his abdomen.
Engi lead the gang down the narrow corridor of a partially vegetated building and into an old room that looked like it used to be a lecture theatre. One that was possibly for medical students, if the skeleton model in the corner was anything to go by. Of course, it could have also just been Medic's. The shabby room housed more than enough seats to accommodate for their (currently) 8-man team and it had a blackboard that expanded to the far reaches of the ceiling.
It was soon evident that Engi, Heavy and Medic had spent quite some time in this very room before meeting the others. Chalk doodles of various colours and artistic skill littered the blackboard's surface, and it was obvious where Engi had been, the various mathematical equations here and there highlighting his past presence.
"So what's all this then?"
"Don't tell me. You're gonna say... 'you'll get to that'." Sniper had become a little curt, having had none of his questions about the meeting and its purpose answered.
"My apologies, partner." Engi offered his best grin. "You'll understand why I keep saying that in a short while."
"Is that me?!" Demo pointed at one of the drawings inscribed on the board that very much resembled a pirate. "Looks nice! Who drew it?"
"All credit of the drawings go to Heavy."
"See, I woulda thought it was his seester!"
"Heavy no have a sister!" The Russian cast a suspicious glance towards his buddy Medic once more, "What have you told these people?!"
The German chuckled nervously. "Genetics... It's such a tricky business."
"Y'all seated?" The Texan called out, and when he received a few grunts in return, assumed that it was time to move forward with the meeting. He perched himself onto a rolling stool, wheeling himself down one end of the massive board.
"As you can see, we already have a plan in mind. Ye ain't here to be discussin' strats, but there will be some room for that! Just-"
"Later, we get it!" The marksman waved his arm up in the air as if to speed the process along. He had heard the word too many times in the space of one hour.
"Alright, moving on." Engi tip-toed around his grumpy comrade.
"We're diving y'all up into teams of two. Medic, you're obviously goin' with Heavy. Nobody knows each other better than the two a' ya."
"Ah, das is all but too natural." The German turned to his trusty companion. "Kamerade."
"Da." He flashed a toothy grin and a thumbs-up in return.
"You'll both be following in after my 'porter. If anything happens, Heavy, you signal the rest of us just like we discussed and deploy that gun of yours like there's no tomorra! Medic, you know what to do. I don't have to say it."
"Sasha will not let team down."
Engi wheeled over to the next part of the blackboard to indicate at the next figure. "The next pair is Scout and Soldier."
"Wait, what 'bout you? What'll you be doin'?"
"I'll be smuggling in my 'porter to the enemy base to get the two of you in, but I digress. We'll get to that later. Now, I'm puttin' the two of you together 'cause I know you got a good thing goin' on. But you'll be servin' as a distraction, mostly."
"A distraction?"
"Yes, sir-ree!"
"What do we need a distraction for?"
"I can make a good distraction! I'll do it with my robot hat!" Soldier grinned from ear to ear. "Nobody will ever know."
"We need you two to cause a scene while the rest of us try to sneak behind enemy lines. Try to distract their enemy Scout, especially, the best you can. I also need to bring my 'porter in and Heavy and Medic will handle it from there."
"A scene like what, though? And why don't you just use Spy if you wanna get behind the enemy?"
"Ah, Spy. Yes. That reminds me. You'll be drafted with Sniper."
"Of course I am." The Frenchman couldn't look any more pained.
"Oh, for God's sake. You really couldn't have picked me to be with someone else?"
"I could've, but you two are actually good together, despite what you might think."
"NO." They both said in unison. Then they glared at each other for objecting at the same time, somehow proving Engi's point without meaning to at all.
"Sniper, you'll be keepin' watch over Heavy as he enters the enemy's base. You keep a close eye for his signal, which he'll do if something should go awry."
"How'll I know what the bloody signal is?"
"Heavy, if you'll kindly do a demonstration..."
The Russian nodded, then started shimmying on the spot.
The Aussie's jaw hung open. Scout and Demo burst into another fit of laughter, barely containing their snickers and giggles. Some things were just impossible not to laugh at, and that included the biggest, baddest, manliest man of them all doing a Hawaiian dance in-front of you.
"You can't be serious." Sniper tried to search Engi's face for some reasoning.
"Serious as a heart-attack!"
"But... why?"
"We figured that if Heavy did anything else, it would just arouse too much suspicion. If anyone saw it, they'd immediately know something was up, they'd look where Heavy was signalling to and deduce that it was for Sniper. Do you know what they do with people who are suspicious?"
"BUT..." Medic interjected, "If he does a dance, it will simply confuse the enemy. They won't think to detain him and question him. It has been proven."
"But they will think to shoot him just out of the principle that he's demented." Spy added, clearly unimpressed.
"I like this dance..." Soldier declared and hopped off his seat to join Heavy. "Scout, I have it! To distract the enemy team, we'll both do this dance!"
"Soldier, no." The Bostonian promptly declined. "I ain't doin' that thing with you."
"Oh, you make it sound so wrong and forbidden! What harm did a little dancing ever do to anybody?" Medic waved off. "It does good for the human spirit, ja?"
"No. No, it doesn't." Scout tried to stand his ground. But then Medic started joining the pair in their shimmying. He face-palmed. Hard. Out of all the places he'd expect to find men acting half their age, this place was somehow the last on his list.
"Oh, mon dieu. Pourquoi moi?" Spy leaned back in his seat with a dramatic flair, the back of his hand strewn over his eyes. "What have I done to deserve this?"
"A lot of things." Sniper answered easily.
"Now, now, children... No fighting." Engi wagged a finger at them, sensing the peaking tension between the two.
"So if Snipeur's job is to keep watch over the fat-man, why exactly do I have to be there with him?"
"Glad you asked!" The Texan chirped, wheeling himself to another section of the board. With a thin and extendible metal rod, he smacked down on the chalk drawings of the Frenchie. "Snipes is basically there to keep watch and time the whole thing. He'll tell you when you need to leave the nest."
"Is that name really sticking?"
"Yeah, it is!" Scout pumped his fist proudly.
"Okay, but when exactly am I supposed to go in and why?"
"We're gonna need you to go in disguised as enemy Scout and sneak into their locker room. I suppose I don't need ta tell ya not to be seen."
"Do I need to tell you to look both ways before crossing the road?"
"Guess not, no. Anyway, in their locker room, you'll meet their Medic. He'll be there waiting for you and in this situation, he's our friend. So don't back-stab him, ya hear?"
"Why's he on our side?"
"Oh..." Medic's eyes shifted briefly. "Let's just say he owes me one. I kept his beloved Archimedes safe and I still haven't asked for a favour in return yet."
"And what am I supposed to say to this Medic? How will he know it's me?"
"Tell him, 'the bird is the word'. He'll understand."
"And then what? He hands him over a large briefcase filled with crack?" Scout snorted at the clichéd nature of Spy's part of the mission.
"No, but he will hand you a balloon."
"This just keeps getting better, doesn't it?" Spy groaned into his palm.
"It will be in a blast-proof container."
"Wait, why blast-proof?"
"Because Demo will be waiting for you nearby and you'll give it to him."
"Freakin' Demo's passed out again!"
"Wake him up, he needs to hear this."
"Should I do it?" Heavy volunteered.
"I got this." Soldier said with confidence. He loomed over the Scot's unconscious figure, leant into his ear and mumbled something that was inaudible to the rest of the group.
But in lightning speed, the sleeping body jolted awake like it had been shocked. "Bar fight?! WHERE? I'LL SMASH YE'!"
"Just us, pal. Sorry to disappoint."
Demo's features sank and slowly, he reclined into a ball in his seat, hugging his liquor bottle close. "I'm goin' back ta bed."
"Ah, but before you do..." Medic halted him with a note of urgency. "You need to be made aware of one thing."
"Engi make teleporter that go to enemy home. You take. Spy meet you there and hand you box. You take. Plant some sticky boom-boom and fly back here and give box. We take. You understand, da?" Heavy did his best to simplify it the best he could.
"Done."
"Okay. Bye-bye."
"Mm-hmm." And in a split second, he was out again.
"Think he'll remember that?" Medic wasn't very reassured.
"So, just to get things straight... We're putting all of our lives on the line just for the sake of an effing balloon?"
"Well, when you put it that way..."
"This balloon better be made of diamond, s'all I'm sayin'."
"Would it help if I told you this was for the good of one of our team-mates?" Medic tried his hand at persuasion.
Spy remained dispassionate. "No."
"Oh, come on! He lost his balloon-friend this week and it's been really tough on the lil' fella. He simply can't go on without it."
"Then he needs mental help, not ours." Spy scoffed. Heavy couldn't help but chuckle at this, but after a sharp glare from his buddy doctor, choked back the rest of his laughter and averted his gaze sheepishly.
"Come on, guys. You know he'd do the same for you."
"I don't know anything. I can't understand a thing that comes outta his mouth!"
"Look, it can't be much more different than what you do here everyday, anyway!" The German cried with an air of exasperation. "Oh, the rate at which I take hearts out of bodies. If only I could give them right now to my soulless comrades!"
Engi heaved a tired sigh. "Alright, what will it take?"
"I'll do it." Sniper shrugged.
"Whoo! Snipes is in!" The Texan clapped. Demo was already in by default of not being able to protest in his drunken stupor.
"Sign me up, too!" Soldier chimed in.
This brought a smile to Medic's face. "Danke, mein Fruend. Now we just need to convince these two."
Scout and Spy still looked reluctant as ever.
"Come on, Spook. Don't be such a flapjack." Sniper tried to give his rival a good-natured push. But he simply scoffed and turned his head.
"That makes absolutely no sense, bush-man."
"What's your price, fellas?"
"Ha-ha, Spy. You're a whore."
"You are, too, if you can be bought from your reluctance."
"Damnit."
"I'll do it if I get to throw Jarate at Snipeur anytime, anywhere for a whole week."
A chorus of interested 'ooh's' came from the gang of men and all eyes fell on the Aussie, Medic and Engi's stares particularly intense with their attentiveness.
"I'll do it if I get to watch!" Scout tagged along, eliciting another wave of enthused sounds.
"You can't be serious..." Sniper was not impressed. "These are your terms?"
"Do it! Do it!" Scout started chanting, banging his fists on the small lecture table in-front of him, in no time prompting everyone else to join in.
"Who's being the flapjack now?" Spy smirked, hugely victorious of turning the tables on the Aussie.
The chanting around the marksman grew louder.
"Yeeah, buddy! Feel that peer pressure!"
"You do it to him all the time, it's only fair!"
"Ja, it's only a little bit of pee afterall. If you think about it, it's mostly vasser."
"Alright, fine! Fine!" He finally gave in with a distressed groan. "God, you bloody bogans. This is what satisfies you at the end of the day, isn't it?"
"Yeee-haw!" Engi called cheerfully, hopping off his sentry to do his farmboy dance. "Boys, we have ourselves a plan!"