Chapter 5: The Quick and the UnAmerican
The cigar Jane chomped on was another one spelling victory. Yet another opposing army had been thoroughly crushed, and it was thanks to his brilliant strategy alone, considering they had outnumbered the Japanese army three to one. His concubine took her time making her way towards him, practicing the lighter trick he had shown her.
Once Boudica thought she had it down, she approached Jane, flicking the lighter like she had been taught, producing flame. Fire in the palm of your hands, an entirely new concept for her. As Jane leaned in, she leaned forward, burning the end of the cigar. A bluish cloud of smoke just barely missed her face as Jane realigned himself with his chair, his legs spread wide across it.
His officers immediately began heaping praise on him in their mystical tongue. Jane puffed again, giving himself only a moment to bask in the adoration his underlings showed. After all, the real prize was defeating America's enemies.
...
His bare skin showed to the whole world as the concubine changed his bandages. At first, he had been confused as to why they were still bleeding, but then in a moment of clarity, he had searched for Medic, and, being unable to find him, decided he must have gone on vacation. He puffed on his victory cigar a little more to ease the pain, not that he felt any, and relished in the victory he had just won.
The herbal infused bandages were doing a pretty good job of healing his wounds, most of which had closed up by now, a mere week later, but the one on his bicep was still giving him trouble. The bandaging stopped, and he turned to see his concubine, Private, narrowing her eyes at him. He puffed his cigar in defiance once, then relented.
"What's the matter, Private?"
"I have been your concubine for a week now", she explained, "and not once have you made an advance on me, not that it wouldn't be met with force. Why?"
Jane looked evenly at her, puffing his cigar once in thought.
"Meh, women always want me. But my country needs me."
This answer seemed to confuse her. Jane didn't care to explain any further. He pointed to the scroll and brush in the corner of the room.
"Alright, we need to tell the army to advance at a steady pace so that they don't outrun their baggage train. And tell the cavalry to live off what they can find. And tell the balloons to help the cavalry find food they can live off of. And tell..."
...
"Have you seen the Engineer", Sniper asked Mikhail.
"No", he responded through a grunt, as he hefted the hundred twenty-five pound dumbbells.
His arms were noticeably more toned. In fact, his biceps looked like cannonballs. His forearms were the largest Mundy had ever seen on a man.
"Bloody-", Sniper breathed.
Noticing a spider on the wall, he produced one of his throwing knives and pinned it there. This caught Mikhail's attention. As he did another rep, he paused on the down end.
"You have been practicing", he noted with a modicum of respect in his voice.
"Yeah", Mundy admitted. "Took me for bloody ever to have that good of aim."
"It must pay off", Mikhail said, as he dropped his dumbbells. "We must save our comrades."
He walked back over to the work desk, and picked up the shield. He affixed it to the front of Sasha, and hefted the massive gun up, giving a satisfied grin as he felt the weight. Gently putting Sasha down, he turned back to Mr. Mundy.
"Did Engineer take your measurements?"
"Yeah", the Sniper affirmed. "Don't know what he thinks he's going to do with those, but-"
The doorbell sounded. Confused, the two mercs looked at one another. They both poked their heads out of the door to see most of the other mercs doing the same. Pyro was, of course, missing from this group, and so was Dell.
The large group of mercs moved towards the door. Tavish spun the cylinder on his grenade launcher, Medic drew his bonesaw, Mundy slapped the charging handle on his MP5KS, and Mikhail put his foot up to the door. Mikhail held up three fingers, and the mercs nodded. As Mikhail dropped his fingers, the mercs tensed. As the last finger dropped, Mikhail pushed the door open with his foot.
As multiple guns were pushed into her face, Miss Pauling cheerfully exclaimed, "Hey guys!"
The mercs dropped the barrels of their guns to the ground, and cheerfully pulled her into a huge group hug.
"Oh... this is nice", Miss Pauling commented. "Ooh, I have good news!"
The mercs made way for Miss Pauling to make her way inside, pushing a briefcase onto the nearest table.
"Where's the Engineer", Miss Pauling asked. "He'll wanna see this!"
Miss Pauling unclasped the latches on her briefcase, and opened it up. Inside were four one-hundred-ounce bars of what looked to be gold, but had a certain shimmer to its surface. Next to that was a cashier's check for a million dollars. The group grew quiet at the sight of all those funds in one place. To have the Administrator so radically back them was a surprise to be sure.
Slowly, the group of mercenaries parted, making way for one that they had not seen in some time; Dell Conagher, sporting the unkempt start of a bushy beard. Wordlessly, he approached the briefcase, and hesitantly picked up one of the bars of Austrailium. He hefted it, then put it up to his ear, then he turned a wide grin towards Miss Pauling.
"Thank ya kindly, ma'am", he politely affirmed.
He then unceremoniously swiped the check from the case, and walked over to the phone on the wall. Picking it up, he pushed a few numbers, then held the receiver up to his ear. The line picked up after two rings.
"Daston, Conagher", Dell spoke before waiting for a hello. "I've got your money, give me the metal."
The line was quiet for a moment. Then, faintly, "Dell, that was a joke-"
"This million-dollar check ain't no joke", Dell told him. "Hell of a lot more than the government would pay ya, too. You wanna be a good citizen, or a rich one?"
For a moment, silence.
"...rich."
"Meet me by the hydroelectric dam."
"A government building?! The CIA will blow my head off if they know I have this stuff!"
"So don't get followed", Dell replied, and hung up the phone.
He walked back over to Miss Pauling, tipped his hardhat to her, picked up the briefcase, and walked back towards his shop. Confused, Miss Pauling tried to follow, only to be body-blocked by Tavish.
"Demo-"
"Miss Pauling", the Demoman said in a hushed whisper. "You're lucky you caught him in a good mood. Don't push it."
Miss Pauling set a harsh glare on the Demoman, but his look was one of concern, not spite. She relented with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest in a moment of confusion and frustration. Quickly, Tavish's demeanor changed, a twinkle forming in his eye.
"With your help, lass", he explained, "I figured out the chloroform bombs. Can even set them to modify their release radius. Wanna look?"
Enthusiastically, Miss Pauling nodded.
…
Spy sighed, and clutched his gun close to him again. His watch had failed for the second time today, and this time someone had spotted him. He needed some maintenance that could only be provided by Dell, and the pressure cracks were starting to wear.
The person giving chase finally gave up. Spy sighed, and decided to continue the stealthy approach.
...
The wind whipped heavy around the dam. Dell adjusted his coat to keep the wind off his left, almost revealing the M1911 on his right hip, not that he could have reached it with the suitcase in his right robotic hand. The wind blew harder, almost knocking off his Stetson, which he barely brought his left hand up in time to catch.
As he brought it back down over his head, he heard the rumbling of an engine. He looked up in time to see a dirt hauler with ore in the back, piled higher than the average load was supposed to go. It rolled to a squeaky stop, the engine rumbling to a throaty cutoff.
From the cabin of the truck jumped... not Daston, someone Dell didn't recognize. He swaggered up to Dell, but stopped at least ten paces from him. He spat on the ground, and raised a look to Dell. Dell reckoned the man couldn't see his eyes behind the Aviators he wore.
"Where's Daston", Dell inquired to the man.
"Sent me", the man explained. "Said something about feds. I used to be an ATF agent, so I don't mind."
Dell resisted the urge to itch for his gun. While he typically stayed out of politics, he didn't like people regulating his line of work. The ATF was one of those regulators that he had to dodge constantly.
"You know the drill, I'm assuming?"
"Take the money, leave the keys", the man said in an exasperated tone.
Dell tossed him the briefcase. The man caught it, and opened it up.
"Holy cow", the man breathed. "All this for some weird metal?"
"Keys", Dell told him, holding out his left hand.
The man seemed to consider this. Gently, he put down the suitcase. Dell sighed, knowing what he knew was coming.
The man reached into his pocket, fished out a ring of keys, and tossed them towards Dell. As soon as they left his hand, the man reached back behind himself, grabbing for his waist. Before he could bring his handgun to bear, he had a dozen high-caliber holes in his chest, courtesy of a reprogrammed Sentry hidden in the surrounding cliffs.
Dell deftly caught the keys as the man slumped to the ground, releasing a hissing breath. Blood began to pool around him as Dell marched past his body, and the briefcase on the ground next to him, to climb into the cabin of the truck. He grabbed the truck radio, and depressed the talk button, releasing it shortly afterward.
"Dell? That you? Is the rock off my hands?"
So Daston didn't order this. That was about the only thing keeping him alive and paid at the moment. Dell was a man of his word, and he wasn't about to let one man's crossing be another man's falling. Dell depressed the talk button again.
"Your man tried to shoot me, Daston."
"...Oh."
"You'll get your money, but it'll be some time."
"...I understand. Thank you."
"Pleasure doin' business with ya."
Dell exited the truck, disposed of the body over the side of the dam, picked up the briefcase, got back in the truck, hit the self-destruct on the Sentry and turned the engine over.
...
This was shaping up to be a little too long of a wait with no alcohol. Tavish broke open his whiskey cabinet, selecting a family heirloom from the 1700's. He peeled back the wax, and popped the cork out, drinking straight from the lip of the bottle. He probably should have saved it for a celebration drink, because it tasted like the magic waters of a loch locked in the mountains, blessed by the tender tongues of tantalizing Selkies, and he instantly felt as though he was transported home.
He nearly was transported to Heaven, because in a moment of stupor, he nearly stepped on a sticky bomb he had just assembled. He stumbled out into the hallway, surprised at how quickly the liquor had taken him. He stumbled towards the front door, going to take a piss to clear his head.
He stumbled out the front door, just in time to watch a dirt hauler roll into the base's garage. For a moment, he was curious, then his bladder told him it was time to find a tree. He walked up to what he thought was a scraggly tree, praying it wasn't a cactus and that if it was, he wouldn't stumble into it. He unzipped his pants, and loosed a torrent.
Halfway through his piss, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head, commanding his body to remain in the same place and not cross somebody with his stream. His eye found Dell, clad in aviators and a cowboy hat, and a leather duster. Tavish chuckled at the sight, thinking Dell to be a true cowboy of the age, fearless because he was otherwise dead inside.
"Are you drunk, son", Dell asked disappointedly.
"Aye", Tavish answered, holding up his bottle. "T'was a good drinkin' session! Now I'm ready ta get me head in tha game!"
"Shucks", Dell said dejectedly. "I have a problem which may call for an unorthodox solution, Tavish, and I need your help makin' said solution."
"Whaddya need, lad", Tavish asked him boisterously.
"Well, I need you sober", Dell explained. "It might require some mixing."
With that, Dell injected Tavish with something. Tavish immediately felt loopier than he already was, and quickly fell forward. His whole body felt like it was on fire a moment later, especially-
"MAH DICK", Tavish practically screamed. "There's cactus thorns in mah dick!"
"Damnit", Dell shouted in a panic, "sorry, man! I thought you would fall backwards!"
"Screw you, ya psycho", Tavish roared. "I hope one o' them machines ya make blows up in yer dumb face! Get these thorns outta me-"
Then everything went black.
...
Tavish awoke sometime later, lying naked on an operating table. He leaned up, only to get a splitting headache for his trouble. Nursing his head, he gingerly swept his legs over the bed, and gently stood up.
Current objective: find clothes.
"Demoman", a familiar German accent said to him from nearby.
New objective: kill Medic.
"You must have a headache", the German voice said from behind him, "mixing alcohol and propofol will do that. Not to worry, a concentration of- oh, hell, why bother? No one else knows this scheiße."
A needle pinched his neck for a second, and suddenly his headache was gone. Tavish turned around to face Dr. Ludwig, the resident mad doctor. His sudden urge to punch him in the face was fading along with his headache.
"Thank ya doc", Tavish said sheepishly, putting his hands over his crotch to cover himself.
"Whatever", Dr. Ludwig said as he retreated into his lab. "I believe Dell has a task of some sort for you. I don't know why he injected you with propofol, but it helped to get those thorns out of you. Go find the Engineer and get the hell out of my lab!"
"Got any clothes for me?"
Medic looked around for a moment, then grabbed a set of scrubs, and tossed them to him. Tavish caught them deftly, then quickly changed into them. They were a nice pair, even including a small scrub hat for his head. When he was done, his six-pack and biceps bulged out of the material, as it was clearly made for a smaller man. Tavish sighed, and made his way out into the hallway.
Dell was pretty easy to find, considering he was standing outside Medic's little room. The first thing Tavish did was sock him in the face. Dell recovered quickly, nodding in approval.
Tavish had a mostly hateful relationship with the man. While he made some pretty interesting things, including implants into Tavish's own legs to help him sticky jump, he was a self-righteous prick on the best of days, and an absolute psycho on the worst. Even worse than that, he was damned good at hiding both, and if Tavish hadn't known him as long as he had, he probably would have never guessed.
"I deserve that", Dell said quietly. "Strong right hook, by the way."
"Whaddya want, Dell", Tavish asked in an exasperated voice.
"Right to the chase? I need to separate some metal from some rock. I know you had a job as a miner for a little while-"
"Don't you dare-"
"-probably so you could steal explosives, which is a mighty fine reason to hold down a job if you ask-"
Tavish punched him in the face again. Dell took a second longer to recover this time, hissing air out of his nostrils in a manner that told Tavish he was pushing his good fortune. He leveled another gaze at Tavish.
"-so you probably have experience separating metal from rock", Dell wagered, not skipping a beat in the conversation, "and then turning that metal molten."
"Ugh, yeah, I do", Tavish readily admitted. There was no point in railroading Dell or ransoming him either, so he continued, "Do ya need my direct intervention or do ya just want a recipe?"
"I would prefer some skilled hands help me in this venture", Dell told him, "because we're running out of time, my friend."
...
Scout continued to be harassed by the man in the huge diver's suit in a language he didn't understand, as he gazed blankly at the completed machine.
...
Soldier stared at the giant map of the enemy island, smiling coyly.
Time to end this war.