Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Now that he was an adult, Dell Conagher rarely saw his pa at Bee Cave anymore. Not that he was around particularly often while Dell was still going to school. Mercenaries had to go all over the globe for jobs, even more so when you were a world-famous engineer on top of that.

Grandpappy Radigan always complained about it when Dell was young while lifting the cattle with one hand with his Australium-fueled strength, the boy at his knee, handing out small bundles of hay for the calves to eat.

So that meant that Dell was quite surprised to come home one day with a familiar car parked in the dusty driveway leading up to the farmhouse.

In the years when Dell had been renting an apartment in the big city while getting his PHDs, he knew no one would be home for a good while. Although the farm had already been automated decades ago, he had gotten one of his neighbours to check in on the house and farm every now and then. He had paid them handsomely of course, even though they had insisted otherwise. Because ultimately, he hadn’t expected his father to come visit at all.

Dell had recently been staying home on the farm, looking after the ranch, feeding the animals. He had just finished his ninth PHD after all. The satisfaction of successfully putting another degree under his belt was a feeling like no other.

News spread quickly in Bee Cave, so Dell had been hauling back an army of gifts in denim-clad arms as congratulations from everyone in town when he had gone out to visit his old friends from school. Mark and Lily from science class had a kid now, how time flies really. Makes him nostalgic like the old man he’s becoming.

He balanced the gifts on one arm while rooting through the bags on his belt with his free hand – blue pen, another blue pen, white marker, another white marker, blue marker, scotch tape, construction tape, the keys! Whistling to himself, he unlocked the door to the farmhouse and nudged the door open before the tower of gifts in his arms fell over like a pile of poorly stacked firewood.

The kitchen table, made of wood just like the rest of the house and hand-carved by Dell’s father, was the best place to put the gifts until he could sort them out later. After he got a snack. Damn, Dell was starving.

Rooting through the paper-bagged mountain of gifts cause he could’ve sworn he saw food in there somewhere, he wondered if his pa was home yet, given that his car was parked outside. Seeing that the door was locked when Dell got back, probably not.

Dell was the only one who got into the habit of locking the door when he left. Grandpappy Radigan always got mad at Dell’s pa for leaving the door unlocked – “What if the animals try to get in, y’know how smart Lassie is gettin’ nowadays!” – but his pa still never remembered to lock the door. Dell doubted that he’d broken the habit in the time he’d been gone.

Dell had just managed to fish out a lovely looking slice of pumpkin pie from the pile when the door opened. Well, the door opened without a squeak, because Lord knows Dell can do something as simple as oil a door hinge, but the glimpse of a blue polo shirt and the distinct wheezing cough gave it away. Fred Conagher was back home.

Dell was about to call out to him, then froze. From his spot near the kitchen entrance, he caught sight of a man trailing inside after his pa, a tall and lanky man with a worn hat perched on his head and a rifle slung on his back over his ragged coat.

The man seemed to glance around the farmhouse furtively, as if looking for anyone hidden in the shadowed corners of the room. Dell pressed himself flat against the wall, heart thundering dangerously in his chest, pie forgotten on the kitchen table.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess, Virgil. My son hasn’t been ‘ere for a while.”

“…You have a bird infestation.” The man replied simply, peering up into the rafters, “You sure that boy of yours hasn’t up ‘n’ left already?”

Fred laughed, a raspy sort of thing from a lifetime of machine fumes and dusty winds. “Those cowbirds have been roostin’ there for years, don’ worry ‘bout it. Come, this way.”

Both men went further into the farmhouse, and Dell released his held breath. He was more confused than anything. While he was no stranger to his pa meeting up with clients and other mercenaries, he’d never known if his pa had ever brought anyone into the house.

The door to the bedroom opened softly, then shut. There was the shuffling and scraping sound of sheets being laid down and the room being swept. Then, the metallic clink of various tools, all too high-pitched and small-sounding to be anything bigger than cutlery.

Dell hesitantly tip-toed towards the closed door, standing a good few feet away just in case the man named Virgil chose to fire his rifle. He doubted it though, both of them seemed too distracted to notice him. Dell heard them murmur to each other, nearly too faint for him to make out any words.

“Just set yerself down ‘ere.”

“’M gonna get blood all over the floor.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, son. No one asks a lotta questions in Bee Cave anyways.”

“Alright. ‘M ready, Fred.”

Dell froze, breath stuck in his chest, as a hush seemed to fall over them.

He heard a faint click of his pa’s work boots getting closer to the centre of the room. Then he spoke in the softest tone that Dell had ever heard from him,

“Are ya sure?” He said.

“I trust you.” Virgil responded.

Dell heard his father hum a quiet tune. His throat suddenly went dry. It was the same song he used to sing when Dell was a boy. Back when he was kept up by nightmares and couldn’t calm down. It was the tune that Dell often found himself humming without realising, mumbling the words under his breath while fiddling with whatever machine he was working on.

He hadn’t heard it from his pa in a long time. It sounded as tender as it did when Dell was a kid, a tiny tot bundled and shaking in his blanket as his pa gently wrapped his arms around him, a soothing barrier against the world and his thoughts.

Through the door, his father advised softly. “Bite down, partner.”

With a sickening squelch and a muffled scream, Dell could only hear the crash of metal tools against each other and hushing noises, like his pa was trying to soothe an agitated horse.

Dell retreated, eyes wide behind goggles and shaken by the rattling cries and the desperate shushing beyond the door. But the shock of the situation – seeing his pa again so soon, another man brought into the house to do some sort of weird surgery – faded into a familiar sort of curiosity. On his way back to the kitchen, Dell spotted something by the door.

Seemed like his pa had set a stack of blueprints down on the top of the metal shoe-rack near the front door. Dell skimmed over the contents briefly.

All Conaghers wrote their blueprints in code. Eventually, you either passed the blueprints down to your children or you had them buried with you like Dell’s grandpappy chose to. The codes were developed entirely on your lonesome, no one was meant to be able to read them but you.

Dell had figured out his father’s code ages ago.

That was back when he was a curious young man and thought sneaking away blueprints that his father left unattended was the best idea he’d ever had. Dell remembered his old tactic of slipping out the kitchen window and running all the way into the fields to hide amongst the cattle.

He’d scribble away in his notepad, squinting at the page full of sentries and teleporters and dispensers, turning it around in an effort to crack his pa’s code. Then when it started to get dark, he’d race back to the farmhouse and end up grazing his knees putting the blueprints away without his father realising.

Dell lifted the stack of blueprints up to slowly sift through the pages. The urge to steal away the designs and replicate it rippled through Dell’s mind, the ever-present curiosity that’s consumed him throughout his life rearing its head again. The smooth diagram, clearly a design that had been thought over from every angle, depicted a pair of eyes.

A pair of eyes, distinctly robotic and pulling the optical nerves in this exact way, ‘to see through a spy’s disguise’. Now, Dell may not be in the mercenary business himself, but he’s got a mite bit of an idea about what those prosthetics were meant to be. It was genius, honestly, not that he had expected anything less from his pa.

But he knew his father had never been a man of biology, it must have been something significant for him to try his hand at organs as delicate at the eyes. The details were magnificent, a creation of wonder. Dell’s fingers carefully hovered over the marker notes and sketches as he traced over them, careful not to smudge them. A shaky smile pulled at the edges of his mouth.

Dell could feel the need to create itching at his fingertips.

Any rational person would be able to say that there’s no dang reason for stealing a blueprint for a pair of prosthetic eyes that can see through disguises. It’s too specific, it’s too much work, it’s too dangerous. The agonised screaming from the other room proved so.

But Dell Conagher – grandson of the genius Radigan Conagher, son of the mercenary Fred Conagher, with nine PHDs under his belt and ready to apply for more – for all he could be described as light-hearted and joyful to be around, could not be described as rational. He was a man who thirsted for motivation, for the fire to catapult his inventions to new heights.

Radigan Conagher was a man motivated by knowledge and money, the confidence to know he could defy death using machinery and the funds to do so. A calm man who could stay stoic in the face of the impossible and bring his small family business in the plains of Texas into prosperity. People who knew him said that his son was just as incredible, his grandson perhaps even more so.

And Dell Conagher, well, he had always had a bit of his father’s bloodlust, the very thing that drove his pa into the mercenary business and brought his ideas to revolutionise the underground.

And truthfully, Dell wanted that too. He wanted a glimpse of the inspiration he could get in the world of mercenaries and killers.

So, he rushed to the kitchen and grabbed one of the rolls of blue graph paper from the lowest shelf – cause sometimes the best ideas come at the strangest times – and cut out a long sheet with the kitchen scissors. From his belt pouches, he fetched a white marker and a roll of construction tape. His hands were shaking with excitement.

He pressed the two pages against the window, ripping pieces of tape with his teeth in his urgency, and the bright light of high noon illuminated the steady lines of his father’s writing through the paper. Dell grinned maniacally, and quickly started tracing over the sketches, the afternoon air filled with muffled wails of pain.

By the time Fred Conagher trundled out of the room, the sniper Virgil unconscious inside with a fresh pair of robotic eyes, out of breath but clearly elated by the successful instalment, his blueprints were right where he left it on the shoe-rack. The window in the kitchen was left open, Fred Conagher none the wiser.

Meanwhile, Dell Conagher happily munched on a slice of pumpkin pie in his hiding place behind the farmhouse, eagerly roving over the details of the prosthetics.

Apparently, his pa never meant to stay long in Bee Cave, because by the time Dell poked his head out from behind the house, his pa’s car was gone.

Chapter Text

“Total failure!” The voice of the Administrator rang throughout the area, putting an end to the day of bloodshed in the deserts of New Mexico.

The BLU team went back to base disgruntled by the loss, some of them still smelling of cheap burnt fabric from the RED Pyro or gunpowder from being far too close to the RED Demo’s sticky bombs.

Engineer grumbled under his breath, grinding his teeth and stomping his boots a little harder than usual. On days like these, it was easy to hear some of the louder members like Soldier shouting irascibly at the air, and only a little bit harder to see others like Spy rolling their eyes in annoyance.

As they all trudged along the sand in a disorganised group, Engineer fiddled absentmindedly with the Gunslinger. His mini-sentries had been destroyed by the RED Soldier’s rockets during a turning point of the battle, nearly taking him with them while he rushed to hide. The screams of his teammates roared in his ears amidst the ringing of bombs going off. His heartbeat thumping roughly in his throat as he tried to figure out what to do.

Engineer had been killed in the end anyways, a quick backstab from the RED Spy as he frantically tried to back away from the explosions. He woke up in Respawn with the man’s snorting laughter ringing in his ears.

“Friggin’ bullshit is what it is, I’m way better and faster than that stupid Heavy with his stupid minigun!” Scout ranted, miming punching the air with his hands, not noticing Heavy next to him frowning at the implied insult to his beloved gun, despite the RED Heavy boasting a different type of minigun.

“Get off o’ it, laddie.” Demo groaned, rubbing at his eye in irritation. He cursed, having forgotten that half his face had already bloomed into a massive bruise by the wrong end of RED Soldier’s shovel.

Scout just started yelling at Demo instead.

Sniper tsk-ed at the racket, unconsciously scratching at the faint scar on his face, courtesy of the RED Spy not even two weeks ago. Engineer’s eyes followed the movement from behind his goggles. It seemed like the slippery motherhubbard had been targeting them both. Even with the recent advantage of the Gunslinger making him more mobile in the field, Engineer still hadn’t found a way to counteract the damn Spy.

Medic had been so upset when Engineer showed up last week with the new hand. After the match was over, he shook Engineer back and forth, practically frothing at the mouth, demanding to know where his recently-cut-off arm was and how he performed the procedure.

[“You really kept it in remarkable condition, Herr Engineer! It has barely bled out!”

“Aw, shucks, you’re too kind. Pyro lent me some of their lighter fluid to make the solution, I can pass ya the recipe, if ya want?”

“Bitte, thank you! And I’m rather interested in how you attached the nerves onto your arm. Its wiring must be very complex for it to work just like a flesh und blood hand!”

“Oh, that? I just slammed it down on top o’ the stump and it worked like a charm!”

“Really? Herr Engineer I really must ask you to stop by sometime to experiment –“

Heavy slammed a massive palm on the table, rattling the plastic dinner bowls around and interrupting Medic’s ecstatic scribbling into his notepad.

He pointed angrily at the sticker-covered paper – courtesy of Pyro – labelled ‘Dinnertime Rulez’ pinned on the cabinet. It stated at Rule 3 subsection iv: ‘Medic is not allowed to talk about and/or make notes about a teammate’s stupid injury while others are eating.’

Dinnertime Rulez was started by Engineer himself, though the title was written by Scout, after one too many incidents involving late-night uses of the Respawn machine and weaponised food.

Some months and a lot of sticky tape later, the paper for the Dinnertime Rulez had become so long that it nearly touched the floor.]

Even with the Gunslinger and the mini-sentries, Engineer still couldn’t gain a foothold over the other team to force a proper push. It was a failure of his Grandpappy Radigan’s design. Engineer joined BLU because he thought he could improve upon his pa’s designs, carve out a name for himself. Yet he found himself up against the insurmountable wall that was the RED team.

Although BLU seemed to win every other match, no one in the BLU team could really shake the feeling that it was by sheer luck, rather than a proper win. It left everyone feeling bitter after each day.

Soldier practically slammed the base’s double doors open on his way in and the group all split up to sulk in their own rooms. Usually, things weren’t so disheartening after a lost match, but Spy immediately vanishing with his cloak and Demo sprinting toward the liquor stash everyone knew he kept in his workshop wasn’t helping anything.

“Eugh.” Scout mumbled, throwing himself onto the sofa and clicking on the TV. He pressed the buttons on the remote with more frustration with every channel he deemed not interesting enough. In the end, Scout turned off the TV with a loud groan of irritation. He dramatically scrubbed his hands over his eyes and laid there staring at the ceiling.

Engineer flicked the man on the head as he passed by. Scout squawked at the treatment and started ranting at him, but Engineer wasn’t listening. He fished out a cold beer from the fridge. His favourite brand, made by a family friend back in Bee Cave. He had to have it specially brought in, but thankfully Builder’s League United was up to their eyes with money, else he’d have to change his tastes a bit.

“-see there, ya slughead!” Scout finished, nearly poking Engineer in the nose with his finger. Engineer smiled at him faux cluelessly, tilting his head with beer in hand.

Scout just sighed, realising that trying to get Engineer to pay attention right now was futile. He dragged his feet as he walked back to the sofa. He threw himself onto the cushions with a dull thumping noise.

“Ugh, see ya later, Engie!” He raised a hand in goodbye. With a shuffle of laminated paper, Scout dug out his comics that Spy had stuffed under the sofa, dusting them off and flipping through them.

“See ya, buddy.” Engineer shook his head fondly. He made his way towards his workshop, which was much further down the hall. This wing was mainly for Engineer and Demoman to experiment and test, the spacious rooms were soundproofed and built to their specifications.

Medic’s lab was also similarly customised, albeit on the other side of the base to them. After all, it wouldn’t do for folks to be heading to the waiting room, only to be sent straight through the roof by a stray machine or bomb that made it out of bounds.

Cracking open the door wide enough to shimmy his way through, Engineer shuffled in and proceeded to lock the door behind him. The workshop was covered wall-to-wall in blueprints, the grey concrete could barely be seen peeking out through the gaps in the graph paper.

Engineer cracked open the beer, taking a few liberal swigs of the blessedly cold drink with a smile at the familiar taste before setting it down on his worktable. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders before settling down in his chair and starting to sketch, twirling the chalk between his fingers every now and then.

He hissed as the Gunslinger suddenly sparked. Grabbing a nearby hex key, he twisted at the small screw that was causing the issue. He sighed in relief as the pain faded along with the sparks. The realisation that his grandpappy Radigan had made the life extender machine for his employer was a strange revelation. The machine itself was complex beyond belief, certainly too much for most to understand. ‘Coincidentally’, Engineer had gained access to his blueprints.

Blutarch was a petty man, that was for sure. Engineer still couldn’t forgive the man for exhuming his grandpappy’s grave and trying to decode his blueprints. That was a Conagher right, not for some rich bucko like Blutarch to pay his way into. So, Engineer could do what he could to ensure Radigan Conagher’s work persisted. Well, it was that, and a few other things that motivated him into chopping off his forearm.

At the moment, figuring out how to gain an advantage over the RED team was the priority.

“That damn RED Spy…” Engineer mumbled under his breath, twisting around to leaf through the stack of blueprints both from his family and his own designs.

Most times Sniper could hear the Spy coming, the sound of the cloak dropping easily echoed in the high places that the Sniper roosted. Engineer couldn’t at all, the noise of battle made it too difficult to hear anything. Being on the frontline had both its advantages and its limitations.

It was simple rule of the experimental design. Attempt to fix limitations.

The Gunslinger paused just above the roll of blueprints at the very bottom of the shelves. The knowledge of the spy disguises was a guarded secret of his. It had been since he discovered the exact tech of the disguise kit and how it worked.

Engineer rolled out the sheets on his desk. By now they were a little worn, it had been many years since that afternoon back in Bee Cave. Could this work?

More importantly, could he do this on his own? Engineer distinctly remembered the man with the rifle having his pa complete the operation. He also knew Medic would be spitting fire if Engineer didn’t tell him about replacing his eyes this time around.

Engineer’s hand rested on top of his goggles, feeling the warmth on his face even through his thick work glove. He already wore his goggles all the time, had been since his pa gave them to him as a kid. If he did go through with the eyes, would anyone need to know?

The process wasn’t written, but Engineer thought it was simple enough. His grandpappy had help with the process of putting on the Gunslinger, and Engineer did that by himself. He could do this by himself too. The past, but greater, brighter, more innovative.

Imagining the dumb shock on the RED Spy’s face when Engineer sees him coming a mile away and shoots him straight through the forehead had Engineer muffling a cackle into his hand. He rested his head on the blueprints, slumping over the table.

It wasn’t impossible. In fact, it had been proven all those years ago in Bee Cave that it was very possible. The only thing was that it might require stealing some things from Medic’s lab. Medic might genuinely get upset. Then Medic might not heal him for the foreseeable future.

Better not test the doc’s patience so soon. The man may have forgiven him in exchange for half his arm, but Engineer might have to grill him a full feast and let Medic experiment on him to his heart’s content before he could –

A short burst of muffled knocks sounded from the door. Everyone in the base had different knocking habits, so Engineer already knew who it was. He put his marker down and trudged over to undo the locks on the blast door and pull it open.

“Pyro? What brings ya here?”

“Mmmph. Hudda, hudda mmm, mmmph.” Pyro waved their hands around, gesturing towards the kitchen. Engineer nodded his head in agreement.

“Yeah, sure, partner. You need me to call the others for dinner?” Pyro nodded their head, making vague affirmative noises.

“Gotcha, just lemme pack up in ‘ere and I’ll get right to it.” With the recent losses, it’d be harder to get some of the others to come for dinner. It’d be even harder to stop them from fighting when they start blaming one another, lest Engineer just pull out his shotgun and blow some holes in the ceiling to calm everyone down. Then that would irritate poor Ms Pauling, who’d have to patch everything up.

Pyro peeked past Engineer’s shoulder to look inside the workshop. As much as he hated to admit it, it wasn’t that hard for them to do that.

They made a questioning sound at the number of blueprints slung messily across the desk.

“Oh, nothin’ you need to worry about, son. Just a few projects I have in mind. Somethin’ to keep those pesky REDs outta sight. Free up some space for y’all to show your stuff out there, eh?” Engineer spoke.

He subtly nudged Pyro away from the entrance to his workshop to block their view. Pyro just leaned back enthusiastically, the arm of their fire-retardant suit slinging over his shoulder in a friendly hold.

Dang it.

To be fair, Engineer was pretty sure Pyro couldn’t read, but they could get enough hints from the diagrams to cause a huge ruckus. The others trusted their intuitive judgement more often than not, especially after those incidents last year with the sentient cardboard cutout, and they knew Engineer and Pyro were pretty attuned to each other.

That helped on the battlefield, but not as much when Engineer had something he might need to hide. If Pyro realised what he was planning to do before the operation went underway, they could cause a commotion and Engineer couldn’t have that. He had to pull out his last resort.

He pressed his hands to Pyro’s shoulders and pulled them free of the hug, until he was holding them an arm’s distance away and they were face to face.

“Pyro.” He said seriously, “I think Balloonicorn got scuffed during the match today.” A gasp of genuine horror came from them. To seal the deal, Engineer pulled a small pack of jumbo colourful band-aids from his belt pouches, putting it onto Pyro’s gloves.

“Mmmph! Hudda hudda!” With a barely audible ‘thank you!’ muffled by their mask, they rushed down the hall to their room.

Engineer waited until he heard a slamming door and the sound of multiple mini baseball trophies falling off Scout’s shelves in the next room. He hadn’t really lied, it was impossible for Balloonicorn to not get roughed up on the battlefield, even though Pyro was quite meticulous about keeping them safe.

Just a distraction. He’ll make them a baked Alaska later.

Engineer turned around and closed the doors with a solid thunk, then cast his gaze over the blueprints his father made.

Carefully, Engineer lifted his goggles from his eyes onto his helmet, rubbing his fingers over the imprinted skin with his gloved hand. The lights in his workshop were way too bright when not looking through tinted glass. He squinted slightly as he read over the notes.

He could do it. It might take months. Engineer really was his father’s son, because he’d never experimented with biology. But when he does manage to replace his eyes, the REDs won’t even know what hit them.

Engineer rolled up the blueprints. He felt that same giddy feeling of anticipation welling up in his heart, if he gets it right, then this could bring them victory. He took the last swig of now-lukewarm beer and set the empty bottle on the table.

Well, time to go and call the others for dinner.

Chapter Text

The trick was to go in a loop around the base. That way you could both avoid unnecessary walking back-and-forth and the most difficult people to convince were at the start of the loop. Sniper was always first on the route since he always hid out in his camper a little ways away from the base.

The air was hot and humid as ever out in the Badlands. Made sense, it was nearing summer. That guaranteed the people used to cooler climates like Heavy would be staying in the base. For all his bulk, the Heavy was pleasant enough to his teammates, which was why he always came near last on the list.

Engineer’s steel-toed work boots sunk softly into the sand as he walked up to Sniper’s parked camper, where the man sat on the hood with a small whittling knife, hacking chunks away from a bit of wood he probably took from the battlements.

Engineer rapped the knuckles of the Gunslinger against the side of the camper, but the clanging noise of metal-against-metal did little to avert the Sniper’s attention. He waited a moment. He cleared his throat politely, yet the gunman still showed no sign of looking away from his whittling. Engineer rolled his eyes behind his goggles and leaned casually across the hood of Sniper’s camper.

“Hey, boyo.” He said almost directly into Sniper’s ear.

The man startled, hat nearly flying off his head and his sunglasses falling askew. The whittling knife went sailing past Engineer’s ear and landed with a dull thud on the dry sand. Sniper put his now-empty hand to his hat, his other hand still clutching what he was carving.

“Bloody hell, truckie, don’t sneak up on a fella like that! I coulda taken your head off!” He shouted.

Engineer stooped down low to pick up the whittling knife behind him, “Maybe you should stop gettin’ such bad tunnel vision, boy.” He said jokingly.

Sniper averted his eyes and scowled, the hand on his hat leaving to scratch at the scars on his face. Engineer’s smile dropped. That was a bad move to remind him so soon after the match.

“The scars giving you trouble?” Engineer tapped his face with the Gunslinger in a reflection of the ones that raked their way across Sniper’s own visage. Sniper’s scowl deepened at the reminder. He snatched back his knife.

“Ta.” Sniper thanked through gritted teeth. He turned his back to him and started hacking away at the wooden sculpture again more violently than before.

Engineer sighed, shifting to haul himself onto the hood next to the gunman. He scratched the back of his neck with his gloved hand.

“Sorry for sayin’ that, slim. I think we’re all out o’ sorts after the matches. ‘Specially since that RED Spy keeps houndin’ our asses.” He said. Sniper pulled down his hat until the brim met the top of his sunglasses.

“It’s just bloody frustrating.” Was all Sniper replied with. Engineer didn’t want to bug him about it any longer, the man wasn’t very open to talking about what was irritating him until he had had a nice, long break.

“…What’re ya carvin’ there?” Engineer asked, searching for a different topic. The wooden creature in Sniper’s hands was starting to take shape. It looked like some sort of huge mammal on four legs but Engineer couldn’t recognise it.

“A drop bear, scares away the bad luck. ‘M gonna keep it in my vest.” Sniper shared, clearly glad for the change of conversation. He dug out some details around the paws; long, nasty-looking claws emerging from under the whittling knife’s blade. Engineer was about to reply with something like ‘that’s nice’, but he paused.

“You’re pullin’ my leg, right? Look, I don’t know much ‘bout Australian critters but I’m pretty sure that’s just a tale y’all use to scare tourists.” Engineer pointed out.

Sniper just turned and stared at him. His usually flat face now pulled into an expression of concern. Somehow, that was even more convincing than if Sniper had vehemently sworn it was true. Engineer felt his worldview tilt on its axis.

“Anywho, Pyro called us to dinner.” Engineer finished with what he planned to say the whole time.

Sniper sat up, “Oh, really? Then I betta set this aside, can’t miss out on one o’ their suppers now, can I?” He grabbed the half-finished wooden sculpture and whittling knife and slid off the hood.

BANG!

An ear-splitting explosion rattled the base. A whole wing of the building rolled down into the sudden crater that appeared. Engineer and Sniper looked on in shock as the rubble shakily parted to reveal Demo tugging himself out of the wreck, a miraculously intact bottle of scrumpy in his hand.

Sniper reacted first. He shouted, “Jesus Christ, Demo! That was one hell of a blast!”

He jogged over to the man, reaching out. Demo took his hand clumsily and let himself be hauled up. He pulled his beanie off to dust it and a veritable waterfall of sand and concrete dust poured out from it, and from Demo’s pained look, the man could tell his hair wasn’t in much better shape.

At least for the most part, Demo was unharmed by the blast. The building, however…

What was left could barely be recognised as Demo’s workshop. The walls were blown to smithereens, parts of it almost dust-like in how fine it was. The worst of it was probably ground zero of the explosion, near the left side of the workshop.

Engineer hesitantly tiptoed closer towards the edge of the sandy crater, he very nearly slipped straight into the deepest part of it when the sand shifted under his boots, and he only managed to balance himself at the last moment. He scooped up a handful of concrete chunks in his glove and watched in horror as the solid, blast-proofed and reinforced material crumbled under its own weight and vanished into the air.

Looked like they might be breathing that in for the foreseeable future. God forbid Medic find out about the possible respiratory issues it might cause.

Turning his head, Engineer saw the blown-open hole in the side of the base. The unprotected, easy-to-invade and unsecured side of the base.

“Aw no, Miss Pauling’s gonna be real unhappy with this.” Engineer said, a pained grimace crossing his face.

Engineer might have to spend another ‘going over the structural integrity of the base’ evening awkwardly sitting with her while she drinks all his beer and drunkenly rambles about her not-very-secret plans to off them all if the Administrator tells her to.

Slowly, some of the others came crawling out of the woodworks to see if the explosion had to become their problem too.

“Mon dieu, what idiot has decided to mess things up today?” Spy uncloaked on the fringes of the blast, the opposite side to Engineer. A freshly lit cigarette hung from the edge of his mouth, but the filter looked slightly chewed on. Seemed like even the Spy was irritated by the turn of events today.

Sniper, who had an arm under Demo to support him, gently shook the man to get him to respond. Demo blinked blearily at him and took a long swig of scrumpy.

He shakily wiped the corner of his mouth and said, “Blew m’workshop up.”

Soldier marched up to the pair and shouted, “We can see that, maggot! Why did you do it!? Did the ghost of communism possess you to sabotage our base of operations!?”

Demo squinted at Soldier for a while, either too baffled by the sentence or just too drunk to process it. In any case, Soldier took his silence as a confirmation and pulled his shovel from its place at his back. He brandished the rusty shovel as if it were a sword of justice.

“Soldier, don’t hit us both, you bloody idiot!” Sniper shouted frantically, backing away from the shovel-wielding man with Demo’s arm still slung over his shoulder.

Soldier said sternly, “Move aside, cream puff, I oughta kick the red out of our BLU-blooded brother for good –“

Engineer set a hand on Soldier’s shoulder. “Solly, c’mon.” A loud thunk sounded with the swing of Soldier’s shovel on Engineer’s hardhat. It stunned him for a moment, but by the time he looked back up, Pyro was already shoving Soldier away, harshly mumbling what sounded like ‘buzz off’. Well, it might have been that, or some choice expletives. Pyro had clearly come from the base’s kitchen when they heard the explosion, given that they still had their apron tied around their rubber suit.

Soldier looked like he was going to pounce on Pyro, with a lowered stance mimicking his pet horde of raccoons. Luckily for everyone’s chances for staying unburnt, Heavy picked up Soldier without saying a word, keeping a grip on the back of his coat even while he kicked around in the air. Heavy looked deeply unhappy to be outside in the heat, an irritated dig in-between his eyebrows that got deeper the longer he stood out in the sun.

Engineer spoke up before things got even more out of hand, “C’mon, y’all. Let’s get to dinner an’ then I’ll tell Miss Pauling ‘bout what happened, yeah?”

Heavy, still carrying Soldier, nodded quickly and went back inside first.

“Let’s get you to Medic, mate.” Sniper said to Demo. The bomber stared morosely into his empty bottle of scrumpy in his hand, but allowed himself to be led along.

Engineer turned to Pyro. “Hell of a way to get everyone for dinner, huh?” He joked. Pyro looked at him for a moment, then reached up to rub at the spot on his hardhat that Soldier hit, like they were rubbing away a wound.

“I’m alright, buddy.” Engineer grinned and knocked on his hardhat with the Gunslinger in demonstration, “This noggin’ will be a-okay, thanks to both my hardhat and you!”

Pyro’s shoulders shook in a laugh, then they made a sweeping sort of motion forwards with their right arm. While communication was difficult at times between the team and Pyro, Solly made an effort to bridge the gap by teaching them army hand signs. Even if some of them were made up and overly specific, it really went the extra mile both in battle and outside of it.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Engineer agreed.

By the time they got to the dining room, everyone was already digging in. Soldier was tearing at a steak rabidly, sauce splattering onto the plastic protective sheet that passed for a tablecloth. Spy stared horrified at the man from the other end of the table while he delicately placed some cut greens on the back of his fork.

Engineer sat next to Heavy, who was trying to be discreet about reading one of his books under the table while they ate. Banning books from the table had been the most recent addition to the Dinnertime Rulez, after Medic and Spy had thrown a fit about Heavy pretending to pay attention to their discussion regarding some behavioural analysis or something. Engineer hadn’t been paying attention either, too busy thinking about building the Gunslinger at the time.

In between Demo and Pyro, Scout huffed, waving around his hands, “So I was puttin’ my baseball trophies back on the shelves afta they all freakin’ fell off for who-knows-what reason, then Demo blew ‘imself up and knocked ‘em all off again!”

Pyro awkwardly shuffled in their seat. They fiddled with the metal silly straw Engineer made them in their gloved hands. Somehow, Scout didn’t notice their obvious guilt and continued.

“Oh, yeah, Demo, how’ ya blow yourself up anyhow?” He asked while spooning some of the gravy into his mouth.

Demo tried to turn his head to answer, but Medic tutted at him sternly and grabbed his jaw to turn him back to face him as he dabbed at the small cuts on Demo’s face with a cotton ball soaked with alcohol in-between taking bites from his own plate.

“Was testin’ out me new riggin’ for the stickybomb launcher. Hit the trigger at the wrong time and—” Demo spread out his fingers to simulate the blast, “kablooey! Good thing I was behind the blast-proof area when it wen’ off or I would be respawnin’ right now.”

He sighed in disappointment, “Looks like I cannae work on my bombs now. Been strugglin’ enough wit’ the REDs n’ all, n’ now I dunnae ken when I’m gonna be able to upgrade me weapons.”

Medic swiped the cotton ball on a particularly deep cut. He laughed as Demo cursed instinctively at the sting of pain.

Medic mused, “Herr Demoman, I’m not sure if upgrading will do us any better, especially since RED team’s Heavy has been unshaken, even with mein übercharge backing us up.” He glanced over to Heavy indiscreetly.

Heavy closed his book under the table, staring indignantly at Medic, “Doktor, you are blaming Heavy for loss?”

“Are you reading your books at the table again!? That’s in violation of the Dinnertime Rulez, mein freund.” Medic scolded, “And you are always leading me straight into the charge with no cover! That is why I keep dying und we keep losing!”

“It is only way to keep little RED Spy from stabbing back since own Spy does not stab other team’s!”

“Excusez-moi!?”

The rest of the table descended into inevitable argument. Cutlery started to fly over the table and dishes were knocked over in the ensuing uniform-grabbing and squabbling.

Engineer rolled his eyes behind his goggles and almost reached for his wrench to stop them when Soldier slammed his plate on the table, a loud and irritated screech of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up.

“I’ll be retiring to the barracks, ladies.” He stormed off, and everyone left at the table turned to share silent glances at his abrupt departure.

Soldier had been testy for months now, ever since he came back with that new rocket launcher and kit from the Administrator, though he never specified why he received them. Since then, he had been throwing himself hissing and swinging at the RED Demoman every time they went into battle, and lost those duels as many times as he won. His irritability towards the rest of the team was raking on everyone’s nerves.

Engineer finished his meal some time after everyone calmed down and wordless truces were given, making sure to thank Pyro on the way to put his dishes in the sink. He passed by Sniper, who was chowing down while sitting on the kitchen island, where he preferred to eat instead of in the dining room with the rest. He waved at Engineer in acknowledgement while he ate. Engineer waved back.

It was a change of plans, but Engineer wanted to quickly ask Demo something before he went to go call Miss Pauling about the workshop incident and possibly about getting some parts for the eyes.

He found the man sitting on a chair in the living room, swirling the contents of his bottle of scrumpy as he stared into the clock on the wall.

“Hey, Demo?” Engineer called. When the man didn’t respond, Engineer tapped the table in front of him with the Gunslinger in the other man’s sightline. Tap, tap. Demo turned to him. Engineer settled down in the chair next to him.

“Your sight with your eye, is it all that bad?” He asked. Demo squinted at him.

“Whaddya mean?” He asked suspiciously.

Engineer leaned back into his seat, “Nah, I mean your depth perception. I know Medic’s tried givin’ you your eye back a few times, but it’s never seemed to affect ya on the battlefield either which way.”

Demo suddenly jolted, sheer disbelief spread across his face, “Medic’s what!? He gave me my eye back!?” He exclaimed.

“Yeah? Don’t ya remember—” No, wait. Engineer cut himself off. Didn’t Medic do surgery on Demo last Halloween?

Monoculus had been particularly terrible last year. Medic had been at his wits end that night, yelling and hollering about some brain scoop thing while he shoved Demo face-first out of his lab.

“I’m sure ya can ask him ‘bout it later.” Engineer placated. “But depth perception can be a tricky lil’ thing, cause some cues ya can just get with one eye but some others ya can’t. Wanted t’ ask ya how it is with ya. ‘Course we got Medic and Respawn if anythin’ happens on the field, but, just askin’ y’know?”

“Me scrumpy deals wit’ most o’ the issues.” Demo chuckled, lifting the bottle for a swig, “Double vision takes care o’ the one eye, ye ken?”

“But without it?” Engineer prodded. He must’ve been too insistent, because Demo paused and stared at him with realisation dawning behind his eye.

He tilted his head to one side, one of his hands gripping the edge of the table like a lifeline. His other hand was grabbing onto Engineer’s shoulder uncomfortably tight.

“Engie, just cause I’m drunk dunnae mean I’m stupid. Yer thinkin’ of doin’ somethin’ bad, ain’t ye? N’ not one of yer mad science experiments. More like one of these.” He tilted his head to look down at the Gunslinger.

Engineer paused for a brief moment, then smiled amicably, placing the Gunslinger on top of Demo’s hand. Demo’s eye dropped from looking into his goggles to follow it.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, buddy. I ain’t got eleven PHDs for nothin’ after all.” He reassured.

Demo didn’t look back up into his eyes. Instead, they were trained somewhere into the middle-distance, “Lemme give ye some advice, ‘son’. An eye ain’t worth it. Not even fer knowledge.”

Engineer swallowed nervously at the foreboding tone; his smile was still frozen on his face. Demo lifted a finger accusingly towards Engineer. His eye was narrowed, still staring directly at him while he drained the rest of his bottle of scrumpy, like he was gleaning something from Engineer’s perfectly normal posture. Though Demo couldn’t see through his tinted goggles, Engineer tried very hard to keep eye contact.

Demo slurred out, “M’gonna sic Pyro on ye, an’ Heavy, an’ Medic. Just you wait. M’gonna tell…”

Engineer jumped forwards to catch Demo as the man listed sideways, nearly smashing his head into the table. Moments later, Demo was passed out with his face smushed against the tabletop, comically drooling.

His death grip on Engineer’s shoulder had loosened. He breathed a sigh of relief. He settled back in his seat, inexplicably rattled by the interaction. Sweat cooled on the back of his neck.

He would replace both eyes then, just as planned. No need to bother with anymore thoughts of replacing just one.

Engineer lifted Demo from his seat as gently as he could to lay him on the couch. It would have been rude to leave him to get a crick in his neck, no matter how much of a struggle it was to move him. Carrying toolboxes was much different to carrying people after all, the biggest difference was how the weight was distributed. It didn’t help that Demo was taller than him by a good amount.

Engineer tried not to think too hard about the conversation they had just had.

Once Demo had been safely deposited on the couch, the man himself snoring a storm and lounging on his side, Engineer dusted off his hands. He passed by the others playing poker in the dining room on his way to the meeting room. He quickly glanced at the cards in front of them, looked like Heavy was winning.

Engineer called out, “Demo’s passed out on the couch, if one of y’all could get him back to his room later, that’d be great. Gotta tell Miss Pauling ‘bout what happened with his workshop.”

There were a chorus of vague agreeing sounds from them. Eh, good enough for him. Engineer headed down to the meeting room.

Chapter Text

The meeting room looked nearly the same as all the other rooms in the base. The same concrete walls, the same layout. The only thing that distinguished the meeting room from any other room was the fact that it had a large table for every merc to sit comfortably if they decided to be civil, a projector screen for presentations from the Administrator, and a small trolley full of miniature televisions.

Engineer hauled one onto the table, clicked the access code – 1 – 1 – 1 – 1 – and pressed the blue button on the side of the television to call Miss Pauling.

The call went through with a flicker and blip of light.

“Howdy, Miss Pauling.” Engineer waved at the staticky screen. Miss Pauling looked like she was shuffling through a vent, one arm awkwardly held out in front of her while she continued crawling.

“Hey, Engie. Sorry, I might cut out cause the Administrator is having me sneak through this compound for the annual Mann Co. survey, you’re gonna have to be quick.” She whispered.

Engineer tried to search for a good way to break the news, but he eventually just sighed and said it straight, “Demo blew up his workshop. Half the wing is gone.”

“What!?” She hissed. A staticky thump sounded on her end of the call and she covered her mouth quickly. She continued in a quieter but no less frantic tone, “Engie, the Administrator is gonna be so pissed! You guys haven’t managed to damage the base that badly before, well…”

Engineer rubbed the back of his neck, “I know. We’re lookin’ to house Demo over in my workshop for a while, but I got a few gadgets I wanna get up an’ runnin’ before he comes along to blow everything to smithereens.”

Nobody had suggested yet that Demo’s work get moved over to his workshop, but it was the easiest option available. It’d take a while before the damage got repaired and the Builder’s League needed Demo on the field with everything up and running for the next battle.

Plus, Engineer couldn’t leave the man without access to bomb testing. That would just be cruel.

So, since he would be housing Demo soon, he wanted to get the eyes installed before the other man could catch him. He knew Demo already suspected the nature of his questions earlier, he couldn’t risk it.

“The parts I’m gonna need for that are…” Engineer rattled off what he remembered from the blueprints, tapping the Gunslinger on the table, “…n’ that should be everythin’. That alright for you, Miss Pauling, or should I send you a list later?”

Miss Pauling gave him a thumbs up with her free hand. “All good, Engie. Just gotta knock my way through this vent seal and I’ll be outta here. I’ll make sure your stuff gets there on the same day as the other packages…and I’ll talk to the Administrator about the damages. Oh, she’s gonna kill me. Over and out.”

“Over and out.” Engineer repeated. The call disconnected and the screen turned to static. He flicked the television’s switch off and hauled it back onto the trolley.

The deliveries wouldn’t come for the next two weeks or so. Engineer would have to be ready to hit the ground running to build the eyes and complete the procedure as soon as they arrived. The first preparations had to be made.

So, he spent the next few weeks sneaking away bottled water for a good while, because no way in hell was Engineer using any sort of lead-poisoned tap water to sterilise his tools or clean up for the procedure. Scout called him a squirrel. Sniper called him a wombat. Whatever that was. Again, Engineer’s PHDs were not in Australian wildlife.

One night, he bumped into Demo in the kitchen while he had been discreetly boiling his tools in a lidded pot to sterilise them. At the same time, Demo was washing out his canteen in the sink with another bottle of water.

“Engie!” Demo turned, like he had just remembered something, “Hang on a bloody minute, I need ta discuss somethin’ with ye.”

Engineer startled, he and Demo hadn’t talked since the night he asked about his eye and truthfully, he’d been hoping the other man had been drunk enough to forget about the matter entirely.

“What’s wrong, partner?” Engineer asked. His smile grew tense, mind racing for answers to any possible questions regarding his recent behaviour.

Demo spoke while wiping his hands on the towel, “What’d Miss Pauling say about me workshop? Did she say when it’d be done?”

Engineer puffed out a quiet exhale, trying to not make his relief too obvious. “Yeah, she said she’d have a talk with the Administrator, but I don’t think she mentioned when it’d get replaced. I offered to take you in for the meantime.”

Demo beamed at the news, looking happier than Engineer had seen him in a while, “Really!? I dunnae think you have a blast proof area in there, you sure that’s alright? I don’t want to turn your shed into a sinkhole like mine.”

Engineer shrugged, “I have a small shootin’ range for my sentry models that’ll work fine until your workshop gets fixed.”

“Bloody brilliant! When can I get my stuff in?” Demo must’ve been itching to work on something, especially mixed with the guilt of destroying his workshop in the first place. In fact, Engineer’s surprised the man had enough willpower to stop himself from blowing up the sand dunes at this point.

How long would it take Engineer to build the eyes once the materials arrived? The next battle was coming up. If Demo moved in too soon, Engineer wouldn’t have any space or time to complete the procedure.

The boiling pot of tools rumbled on the stove. Still had five more minutes to boil, just to be safe.

“Engie.” Demo waved a hand in front of his goggles. “Laddie, are you feelin’ alright?”

Engineer jolted, “Hm? Oh, don’t worry ‘bout it, son. I’d say in a week’s time or so. I got deliveries that’re gonna make the whole place messy for a few days, so just gimme time to clean up for ya.”

Demo brushed it off, “Ach, don’t stress about it, mate. My parents taught me manners and I’ll be damned before I disrespect both them and you by not bein’ a good guest. Tell you what, when I bring me stuff in, I’ll bring a couple o’ bottles, aye? To have a nice night for once!”

Engineer chuckled and plucked a bottle of scrumpy out of the fridge. He passed it over to Demo, who started refilling his canteen gratefully.

“I’ll take you up on that offer, hoss.”

Returning the grin, Demo took his leave, cheerfully whistling a folksong all the way out. Engineer turned the stove off, and he didn’t notice Demo tilt his head to glance back at him with a suspicious look in his eye.

With all his tools boiled in clean water and sterilised, Engineer nearly had all the equipment he needed, and a space had been cleared out in the middle of his workshop to make sure he didn’t damage anything.

The point of contention: Engineer needed the medi-gun, or else he’d die of blood loss or pass out from the pain. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he’d been pushing it during the instalment of the Gunslinger.

The doc always kept his medi-gun in the lab after operations on a small crane device he had Engineer make to hold it up during surgeries. Medic always said it was pointless in removing the medi-gun from the premises during busy days, since he’d always need it.

Soon, that would work in Engineer’s favour.

Everyone’s packages arrived on the same day for a few reasons. For one, staggering the deliveries didn’t work, the people who didn’t receive their orders would complain, and it would eventually cause a fight that’d break something. For two, it distracted everyone from killing the delivery guys, which was a common occurrence given all their very itchy trigger-fingers, Engineer unfortunately included.

Medic’s deliveries were always zoo parts or new cadavers, and he would get caught up experimenting in his lab for hours on end before he got dragged out for meals. This phase would last about a week before dying out into regular mad-scientist schedules, not like Engineer could say much against it without being a hypocrite.

On the day they arrived, the delivery trucks honked in an awful cacophony. All of the drivers were probably eager to get out of the base as soon as possible and stay alive.

“Delivery!” Scout and Pyro shouted in unison, one’s voice clearer than the other’s. They both clambered off the couch, Pyro tripped over the fallen cushions in their haste. Unsurprisingly, Scout got to the door first. He flung the door open and raced over to the trucks.

The announcement brought everyone out of their rooms to rush over to claim their packages. The boxes were all emblazoned with their class’ emblem for the mercs who couldn’t read. Not that it stopped them from mixing up their belongings anyways.

Engineer didn’t hide how he hauled his box of materials over his shoulders in his urgency, unlike Spy, who always stayed cloaked until he reached the trucks to disguise the fact that he always ran for his things like he had a bear on his tail. He probably had his imported fancy cigarettes and suits in there or something.

A discreet glance over to Medic revealed that the doctor was carefully checking over the various sealed jars and packets he received to make sure none of them were damaged during the shipping.

Good. Now, Engineer had to build the eyes quickly, or else the whole plan would go up in smoke.

Side-stepping the chaos of thrown packaging material coming from the more enthusiastic mercenaries, Engineer headed off to his workshop and locked the door. He already had the blueprints and tools prepared, the exact measurements needed. All he had to do was put everything together.

The box of materials hit the floor with a thud. He popped it open, trying to keep it as neat as he could. Pyro, Soldier and strangely enough, Spy, liked to keep the delivery boxes for some reason.

The pieces laid out in front of him. Engineer sat down at his table and got to work.

The following days were a bit of a blur. When Engineer got into a frenzy of creation, the world ceased to exist outside of what was in his hands.

Pyro usually came to call him for meals. Every time he opened the door, they would point with a gloved hand at the contraptions on the desk and make a questioning noise.

“That?” Engineer would laugh, “Just the gadget I’ve been workin’ on. Now let’s get going, I know you don’t wanna wait to eat.” He would move to subtly barricade the door of his workshop to stop them from looking closer.

Every time, Pyro would tilt their head at him, like they were unsatisfied with the answer. Like they knew something was wrong.

Engineer knew he didn’t have much time.

There was one thing he realised he had forgotten to specify with the materials. He had forgotten to request a change in the shade of the iris material from those stated in the blueprints. While the gunman that his pa made the eyes for had pale blue eyes, Engineer had his father’s darker eye colour. Still blue, but noticeably a different shade to the material he had accidentally ordered.

Well, it wasn’t not like anyone would notice. He didn’t think the team had ever seen him without his goggles before. Except maybe Spy, because that man loved showing off what information he could scrounge up without them noticing, but he digressed.

Engineer continued carefully cutting out the material and welding them together. Such a small mistake wouldn’t matter all that much, he was sure.

The day the eyes were finished, all that was left was to get the medi-gun. Engineer knew that Medic had been in a similar mad-scientist frenzy, with Heavy and Spy usually being the unfortunate ones who kicked him out of his lab to eat, shower and sleep.

He knew the medi-gun was guaranteed to still be in Medic’s lab for the foreseeable future. It was only a matter of keeping the doctor away from the lab until Engineer could complete the procedure and return it.

During lunch, Scout dragged Medic into the dining room where everyone was already eating. “C’mon, doc, ya gotta have lunch. It’s like, one of the most important meals of the day! It’s where ya get all your energy for skull-cracking in the afternoon.”

Medic muttered under his breath while fixing his glasses, “I would be ‘cracking skulls’ if you didn’t drag me out of my lab. You are lucky I just finished collecting the data on that one.”

The doctor grabbed a bowl from the stack set up next to the soup pot. It had been Spy’s turn to make lunch, and he insisted that the soup had to have cheese on top. Medic ladled the soup into his bowl, ignored the note next to the pot commanding him to put the cheese on and turned to go back to his lab. Engineer lifted his spoon to hide his frown of displeasure.

Setting down his spoon, Heavy spoke up for the first time that afternoon, “Doktor, you are not joining for book reading later?”

The plaintive note in the larger man’s voice made Medic pause.

He rolled his eyes, but it didn’t distract from the fond grin on his face, “Ach, alright. But if I have to stop you from trying to annotate my copies again, I will throw the book at your face.”

Heavy cracked a smile and slid a cup of water over to the doctor as he settled down into a seat.

That was his cue.

An ‘accidental’ knock from Engineer’s elbow on the table caused his own bowl to tip and splash soup over his overalls. It also caused the card tower Scout was building out of the poker deck to crumple, stray cards fluttering onto the floor. He shot Engineer a glare from across the table.

Engineer smiled crookedly in embarrassment, “Sorry ‘bout that fellas. I’m gonna go get a change o’ clothes.”

He took a cloth out of his overall pockets to mop up the soup and abandoned his seat at the table.

Down the right hallway was the goal to completing the project that would change everything. He was sure of it.

The bathrooms and lockers with spare clothes were on the same side as Medic’s lab, which made it much easier after battles when they all impatiently sat or stood outside for Medic to heal them. Less grime, dirt and blood to deal with.

The lab’s door was open, as he expected from Scout being the one to bring Medic to lunch. He could imagine the man hurriedly slamming the door and grabbing Medic before the doctor could react and put him on the operation table.

Engineer walked past the mass of guts vaguely recognisable as a person on a gurney in the back and found the medi-gun sitting in the crane just as he predicted.

“Sorry, doc.” Engineer whispered, “I just gotta borrow this for a sec.”

He unlocked the mechanism keeping it in place and hefted it from the crane.

A quiet chirrup sounded from above him. He lifted his head to softly shush Archimedes on his perch. The small, bloodstained dove tilted his neck to the side. The bird cooed again, but didn’t start swooping or pecking at him. Medic’s doves liked Engineer enough, so they probably wouldn’t tattle on him.

His goal was held securely in his arms, but he couldn’t just carry the medi-gun out in the open and head back the same way. He’d get caught in an instant by the folks in the dining room.

But if he went out through the locker rooms, he could loop around the outside then get back inside through the open hole in the base that used to be Demo’s workshop.

So, Engineer tiptoed out of the lab, carefully watching the doves to make sure they didn’t change their minds about him borrowing from their owner’s lab. Thankfully, he was able to sneak out without issue.

Just to seal the deal – and because the soup-soaked overalls were getting uncomfortable – Engineer did take a bit of time to change into the spare clothes kept in the lockers. He brought the spare belt along with him instead of leaving it behind. The familiar heat of the desert washed over him as he ducked out of the locker room, medi-gun in his hands.

It was a slow descent into the sandy crater of Demo’s former workshop. Engineer kept carefully toeing the sand and concrete debris in front of him just in case some bombs or grenades survived the initial blast.

In no time at all, he was back inside, and he made a quick final dash for his workshop. The door was solidly locked behind him.

While he knew Medic wouldn’t return to his lab for the rest of the night – Heavy and Medic’s book club sessions went on for hours – Engineer needed to get the eyes implanted quick.

He had laid down one of the tarps on the workshop floor earlier in the week. It was an easy way to clean up the blood. It wouldn’t be comfortable by any means to be laying on the ground for who knows how long, but he’d be more worried about accidentally rolling off a table during the procedure and fumbling around both blind and covered in blood to clamber his way back up. So, floor tarp it was.

Engineer grabbed the small adjustable mirror crane, fashioned in a way that he could see where he was cutting. It had been hastily thrown together from a pocket mirror with some leftover scrap and screws, but it was workable. That would be enough.

His hardhat and goggles went off next, placed safely on the floor beside the edge of the tarp. A bucket full of clean bottled water had been set up. Engineer quickly rinsed the spare belt he brought with him in it. Next to the bucket was a container full of leftover preservation fluid. Engineer quickly snapped on a pair of blue gloves over his hand and the Gunslinger.

Balancing the medi-gun on a stool, Engineer flicked it on and pushed it a few feet away. He might try to bring it closer depending on how the first eye went. The soft blue beam enveloped him, a warm feeling washing over. The distance made the effect lighter than on the battlefield, more like a lukewarm steam than a heatwave.

Engineer laid down on the tarp, facing the blinding ceiling light. He grabbed the first tool in his hand and adjusted the mirror. He breathed in and out. He bit down lightly on the belt between his teeth. He pulled his left eyelid up.

It would be worth it, Engineer assured himself. It would be worth it.

The first cut was numbed thanks to the medi-gun, but the sharp snap of the muscles being cut from the surface of his eye, the instinctual terror of having a sharp tool so close, it made his hand shake. His teeth punched into the leather, a muffled curse escaping his lips. His legs kicked out instinctively, scrabbling at nothing, to get away. Small puffs of breath escaped through his teeth while he fought to stay calm.

Just like the Gunslinger, he reminded himself. The operation was just like the instalment of the Gunslinger. There was nothing to worry about.

The cuts went further and deeper. Fresh blood welled up under his fingers. He could see it staining his gloves, could feel it warming his fingers. Engineer could feel the tool slowly scraping away at his dulled senses in a maddening pattern. His vision in his left eye went dark, leaving him with only a half-view of the tool working away at the inner socket.

When he could grasp his eye with two fingers pinched around it, Engineer briefly felt like he was going to throw up for a dizzying moment. The nausea came and was wrestled down as quickly as it had surged.

The eye, still warm with blood, mucus and tears, landed with a small splash into the leftover preservation fluid he had used for his arm. Just like that, it was gone.

The tears were sticking to his eyelashes, blurring his vision. The gloves were already covered in blood, he couldn’t wipe them. It was no use. A nauseating panic rose in him. Engineer sacrificed a few precious seconds to dab at his remaining eye with a cloth.

He did have to give it to his pa, biting down really helped. Felt like his teeth were going to punch straight through the leather and break, but it helped with the pain.

Because he couldn’t deny that it was starting to hurt. It burned and stung and ached like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Not on the battlefield, nor under Medic’s hands, nor under the saw for the Gunslinger. A scream tore at the back of his throat and it hurt even more to muffle it. His heart pounded in his ears.

Engineer had to push his weakened eyelid up with his thumb to slot the first eye in. The globe of the prosthetic, about the size of a large marble, felt weighty and foreign being pushed into the socket.

The medi-beam was doing well in making sure he didn’t die from blood loss. The pain was an unfortunate necessity, he needed to know exactly where the nerves were and where they connected. Additionally, if he tried to bring it closer to increase the healing rate, the medi-gun might register the surgery as a wound and try to reform his eye again. He couldn’t have that happening.

Engineer grimaced as he felt the prosthetic roll in his socket as he nudged it to face the right direction. The sharp sting told him that the nerve had been connected properly.

The sight in his left eye should be coming back soon. He had to make sure the muscles on the inside of his eye were connected properly to ensure his new eye wouldn’t disconnect.

He switched tools and busied himself with the work, distantly listening to the harsh breaths puffing out of his lungs. Slowly blinking over the new eye had been disconcerting, and truthfully, it still was, even when he finished reattaching all the muscles to the prosthetic.

One more. There was one eye left.

Engineer lifted his right eyelid, staring down the point of the tool for one more time.

At that very moment, the Gunslinger whined shrilly and sparked. White hot pain raced down his arm, overpowering the weakened rays of the medi-gun. Engineer barely restrained himself from grinding his molars straight through the leather. A hysteric shriek escaped his throat.

Not now. Not now. Not when he was just about to finish the adjustments.

He didn’t have the time. His wrench and allen keys weren’t in reach. He cursed himself for not realising this would happen. Engineer tried pulling the mechanical fingers into a fist, but they refused to listen, sparking with phantom and electrical pains.

Blood was dripping down the sides of his face, past his ears and pooling around his neck. Each dried streak was traced over with a fresh stream of red. He was at the end of his rope.

The old tried-and-true method would have to do. Hit the machine until it worked.

Engineer raised the Gunslinger up high above his head and slammed it into the floor. He muffled a cry of pain. Sparks flew. He lifted the Gunslinger up and slammed it onto the ground once more.

His other hand balled into a creaking fist. The metal of the Gunslinger eclipsed the glaring ceiling light of Engineer’s workshop. It fell to the ground another time.

The joints sparked dangerously, then slowly, the Gunslinger settled into a gentle whirr before falling silent.

Engineer heaved for breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He picked up the tools from where they had fallen to the side and pulled his eyelid up again.

Trimming away the muscles on his right eye was more painful than the left, likely due to the build-up of pain. In the back of his throat, the humming of a tune buzzed in his vocal cords. It was a better alternative to screaming his lungs out.

His right eye was grasped softly in his gloves, falling with a splash alongside the other eye. The preservation fluid had been tinted a soft red colour from the blood. Engineer could easily admit it was a pretty sight.

The second eye was slotted in without fanfare. Engineer blinked a few times as his vision flickered, then stabilised. Hooking his wrists on the stool legs where the medi-gun was perched, he dragged it two inches closer. He sighed in relief as the pain disappeared, washed away by the healing vapours.

He pulled the leather out from his molars. He wouldn’t be able to wear this belt anymore. It was littered with deep and ugly marks from his teeth. His jaw ached.

Blinking up at the ceiling, Engineer draped the bloodstained cloth over his eyes.

It was like an illusion. He could feel the cloth on his face, but he could only see the outline of it. He could see his workshop ceiling stained with soot. He could see the blueprints on his walls. He could see his workstation.

He picked the cloth up with the Gunslinger, watched as the outline filled with stained red, then let it fall on his face again. The colour of the cloth vanished once more, and Engineer stared straight through the material.

An elated burst of laughter bubbled in his chest. Triumphant, crying out into the air in exultant joy.

He must have looked like a cackling madman, face and hands covered in blood, now-useless eyes sitting in a jar on the concrete floor. Engineer didn’t care at all what he looked like.

He gently covered his eyes with bloody hands, looked through them into the ceiling light of the workshop and laughed. Maybe his grandfather was looking down on him in pride behind that bright light. It could have been tears or blood running down his face, he didn’t care.

He had done it.

Chapter Text

“Men! Today we face our greatest enemy, a group of RED hippies unworthy of wearing a colour on the glorious American flag!”

While the mercs were standing in a circle with Soldier in the centre making his speech, very few of them were actually listening to his ‘pep talk’. Spy was twirling his kunai around his finger, Heavy was shining the barrel of his Tomislav, Pyro moved their head to trace imaginary lines of colourful butterflies bouncing off the tops of the lockers.

Scout elbowed Sniper jokingly, “Plannin’ on hittin’ any shots today, Snipes?”

Sniper grumbled, lightly shoving Scout in return. “Piss off, you little shite. Not my fault that bloody Spy keeps creepin’ up on me. Didn’t have those nosy little buggers in the Outback, now did I?”

Engineer stood on the left side of the circle, double-checking all the screws in the Gunslinger. He should have time to make a more streamlined model in the future. He could get new parts in next month’s delivery.

Yesterday had been busy. He helped Demo move into their shared workshop and they had gotten thoroughly smashed, three sheets to the wind, shooting from all cylinders, you name it.

“To Builder’s League and their bloody deep pockets!” Demo had cheered, raising his bottle and laughing uproariously.

Miss Pauling had sent a letter earlier that day saying that Demo’s workshop would be fixed in the next month with no reduction from his salary since BLU would be footing the bill. She also told them to ‘not kill the construction workers, please’ but Engineer doubted anyone would listen.

“To Builder’s League.” Engineer toasted with Demo, raising his bottle and bringing them together with a satisfying clink.

Engineer had woken up in the morning on the workshop floor with a killer hangover after blacking out. But for the most part, sharing the workshop hadn’t been too bad so far. It would probably take Demo a while to remember to lock the door though, Engineer kept having to remind him.

His eyes were doing well after the operation. It took some getting used to, and Engineer found himself having to use his homemade eyedrop solution pretty often because of how easily they dried out. Luckily, his goggles kept most of the dry air from sucking out the moisture from the eyes.

Speaking of, his tinted glasses of his goggles had been rendered all but useless by the eyes’ function. After decades of seeing the world darkened, it had been a huge shock to the system.

While his eyes were still protected by the glass, to him it felt like he wasn’t wearing them at all. The bright summer sun of the Badlands at noon felt like removing his eyes all over again.

The Administrator interrupted Soldier’s speech, voice booming against the pale walls. Everyone quickly hoisted up their weapons, “The match begins in three, two, one!”

Heavy roared in harmony with the cacophony of explosions as the gate slid open and hell broke loose. Engineer wasted no time in charging his way out, avoiding the blast of Soldier’s first rocket jump.

A quick glance through squinted eyes set the field, RED against BLU, mercenaries clashing against each other as they dipped in and out of sightlines. Immediately, Engineer broke off to the right to duck behind one of the battlement buildings.

Engineer found that habits in battle were hard to break. In fact, he theorised that with the Respawn rehashing everyone over and over, it might have made them even harder to break. In the heat of battle, everyone ran through the same routine like clockwork. No matter what Soldier or Miss Pauling said in those rare team meetings, the plans never truly moved the key players in a new way.

Perhaps that was why it was so easy for the RED Spy to take advantage of those patterns.

If the RED Spy could be described as anything, the BLU team would bring out the expletives first and the actual descriptors second.

He was a bastard, a no-good prick, a slimy little snake.

He was crafty, he was hard to get a hold of even when you caught him, he could act like no one’s business. There was a reason why the BLU Spy hated him so.

Engineer poked his head around the corner and raced across the sand once he saw a clear path, ducking past the lobbed grenades from the RED Demoman. He could hear Soldier’s screeching as the two of them met in the middle of the charge.

A red blur shot across the arid field, and Engineer recognised who it was.

A mini-sentry popped up from the ground, deployed from the Gunslinger. Engineer quickly spun around, firing pot shots at the RED Scout with his shotgun. Despite none of the shots connecting, the Scout retreated, not wanting to take any chances with the sentry gun.

Leaving the mini-sentry to deal with anyone who passed by, Engineer continued his trek towards the point. The RED Scout had to be here somewhere.

The tunnels were lantern-lit, the ground littered with stray debris. Glowing red signs reading ‘capture point’ mounted on the sides of the walls. Engineer jogged over the minecart tracks and saw the sunlight at the ends of the tunnels. The RED Scout might have retreated then or taken a different route.

As soon as Engineer tried to peek his head out of the tunnels, a slew of rockets from the RED Soldier exploded just a few feet from his head. Pebbles clinked against his hardhat.

“Damn it.” Engineer cursed, readying himself for some quick ducking and firing. From an adjacent route, he spotted Pyro leap out of the gate, heading towards his direction in a hurry.

Pyro must have had someone following them. The RED Heavy, maybe?

It was only when they got closer did the illusion fade.

It was strange to see the eyes’ function in the field. As the Spy approached, Engineer could see the colour in his disguise fade from the outline of Pyro. It left a pinstripe-suited man jogging backwards with a knife and a paper mask covering his face, a wobbly line of blue that imitated the shape of Engineer’s friend.

Seemed like the Spy was banking on Engineer being too distracted by the immediate danger to notice anything off.

But a snake in the grass wasn’t as much of a threat when you could see it coming.

“Careful, Pyro!” Engineer pretended to warn, pressing his back to the tunnel wall. God, he wanted to fire a round into the bastard’s smug face.

The Spy hummed a chillingly perfect rendition of Pyro’s cadence. At this point, the actual Pyro would have quickly flashed the ‘halt’ sign, turned their hand backwards and moved it upwards in the improvised sign for ‘spy-checking’, then doused Engineer in a spray of fire. He supposed the Spy wasn’t familiar with the signs.

“Pyro, I’m gonna head out there and cause a distraction so you can torch everythin’ up there.” Engineer explained to the Spy, who hummed agreeingly. He was glad his goggles made it so that the Spy couldn’t see how his eyes narrowed.

There was no guarantee that the RED Spy was fooled by his act. Engineer had never been a terrific liar in front of other people, but it was worth the try. That was what the eyes were made for. One of the first tasks when testing a formula. Experiment with the playing field.

Engineer stepped forward into the sunlight, shotgun at the ready, back turned to the Spy. There was an inhale from behind him.

Engineer pivoted on his heel and the Spy became a splatter on the wall in two shots, the BLU Pyro-shaped outline sputtering and vanishing as he died. The dumb look of surprise was so out of place on the bastard’s face that Engineer almost laughed himself sick.

It was over humiliatingly fast.

“That’s what my daddy taught me to do to backstabbers.” Engineer chuckled at the dissipating corpse, resting his shotgun on his shoulder. He grinned. If only the Spy knew how much those words were true.

Out of the corner of his eye, there was a quick flicker of red and the shine of a scope. Then Engineer’s vision went dark.

He woke up in the Respawn room a moment later and groaned at the stifled victory. The RED Sniper got him through the head. A gloved hand came up behind him and patted his shoulder once.

“Pay attention, Engineer, we have a job to do.” Spy muttered to him before running out of the Respawn room. Engineer caught sight of a plume of blue smoke trailing after the man before he vanished around a corner out of sight.

Engineer rolled his eyes and gripped his shotgun tighter, “Those damn spies, I swear.”

Engineer had barely exited the gates of Respawn when the Administrator announced, “We have captured the control point!”

The remaining RED members near the newly BLU-controlled point cursed and ran back, firing shots behind them. They were followed by Demo’s grenades.

“Hey, Engie!” Scout called out while zipping around the RED Soldier’s rockets like a jackrabbit moving at light speed.

“Need any help, Scout?” Engineer asked.

Scout snorted, rolling his eyes. He jumped onto the top of a shed to avoid the next rocket.

“I got everythin’ handled over here, these RED idiots are nothin’ to me. But I swear I heard their Pyro singin’ up a storm up ahead. Creepy as hell, I’ll tell ya that.” Scout fired his shotgun in rapid succession and cheered, “Ha! Not so tough, are ya now!?”

Engineer casually waved his hand, “Thanks, boy. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Further down the battlements, a war cry rang through the valley.

“Kablooie! Guts and glory, lads!” Demo fired his grenade launcher, merrily laughing all the way despite his left side being caked in dirt and blood, “Oh, Engie, mate! You’re just in time for the big show!”

“Can’t wait for the fireworks, son.” Engineer started building a dispenser, and in no time, the blue healing vapours took care of their accumulated injuries. He readied his shotgun, “Let’s do this Texas style.”

With a whoop, Engineer threw himself down into the heat of battle. Soldier and the RED Demoman were brawling amidst the flying grenades and bullets, having abandoned their weapons entirely. Engineer avoided them. The team had figured that whatever it was between them, it was personal. Besides, he had bigger things to worry about.

Engineer fired at the RED Medic, but it was too late for that. As soon as the crackle of the medi-gun sounded, the ubercharge had already been released. A hail of bullets erupted from the RED Heavy’s minigun, mowing down the BLUs.

Over the din, it was impossible to hear the cheery humming from underneath a rubber mask. The RED Pyro lay waste to anyone who was unfortunate enough to duck out of the line of fire. Engineer could feel the heat flash over his skin and the screams of, “Fire! Fire!”

The flames quickly spread, there wasn’t any choice but to run. Engineer set down a mini-sentry and ducked into an entryway of the nearby tunnel, holding himself up on the wall. He barely caught a glimpse of Demo sprinting away. He took a moment to catch his breath, coughing roughly.

Engineer hoped the RED Pyro wouldn’t follow. He was never fond of being burnt to a crisp. The RED Pyro always sang and laughed while on the chase, like it was all one big game between them. It frightened him, and as far as he was aware, his teammates shared that fear.

“I need to get back. Now, where were those damn routes?” He murmured. The sound of metal against metal sounded from ahead. Engineer tentatively turned the corner, shotgun in hand.

There was a lone person in the tunnel, sipping on a beer while idly hammering away at a level two sentry. The RED Engineer. A dispenser chugged slowly at his side, the healing vapour drifting through the air.

The small bits of scrap around the RED’s shoes proved that Engineer’s Spy had come around to sap the machines a while back.

The sentry beeped. He had been spotted.

Engineer reeled back behind the wall. But nothing happened. No bullet fire. The ground remained clean, no spray of blood across the dirt. A shadow darkened the lantern light. He looked up. The RED Engineer was crouched in front of him, holding out a hand.

“Well, howdy there.” He greeted.

Engineer glanced over the RED Engineer’s kit. While the man was armed similarly to him, he made no move to draw his pistol, shotgun or wrench, arm still outstretched. Reaching out hesitantly, Engineer let the RED haul him up.

“Thanks, son.” Engineer thanked with a polite nod, his mouth pursed in a flat smile. He still kept a hand on his belt, ready to pull his pistol just in case it was a trick. Somehow, he doubted it was.

It was rare things like these happened on the battlefield. Small pockets of peace amidst the days of firing at and killing each other, it was an unspoken agreement in the moments of awkward missed shots and quiet one-off conversations.

Their contracts forbade fraternisation between men paid to kill each other, after all.

The RED Engineer just tilted his head cordially at Engineer’s wariness, completely carefree. “Just gonna set up shop here if ya don’t mind.”

Before Engineer could ask what that meant, a whole metal recliner popped out of the RED Engineer’s toolbox with a press of a button. The RED Engineer chuckled at his startled reaction. Then he settled down into the recliner and sighed. He plucked out a bottle of RED Shed beer and popped it open.

“Want one?” The RED Engineer offered.

Engineer wrinkled his nose at the poor taste. BLU gave them BLU Streak beer for being employees as a ‘benefit’, but only Demo could really stand drinking the stuff. It tasted awful in Engineer’s opinion. He couldn’t imagine that the RED-branded beer was any better.

“No, thank you.” He declined.

The RED sentry up ahead gently rotated from side to side, scanning for anyone wearing the colour blue. As long as it didn’t spot him, then he’d be fine. Engineer scanned the structure. During the first battle, Engineer had immediately recognised the other team Engineer using the exact same sentries as him.

He glanced at the other man. He seemed very content to stay where he was and unlikely to attack him.

Now that they were here, it would be good to get some answers.

Engineer spoke up, “Your sentries. They’re the same model as mine were.” The same as my pa’s, the ones he used back when he fought for the gravel, Engineer thought.

If he squinted in the dim light, he could see the slight differences in their handiwork. BLU supplied different alloys for his own sentries before he switched to the mini-sentries, and it seemed that the RED Engineer used different screws than him. It probably wouldn’t be noticeable unless you directly compared them both, like the differences in style between two artists.

“Mann Co. gave us the same blueprints, I’d say. Well, except for those new tiny sentries you’ve got.” The RED Engineer tilted his head slightly, “But the big bosses weren’t able to get rid of some o’ the signatures on the papers though. ‘Conagher.’ You ever heard of ‘em?”

As far as he could tell, the other man was entirely earnest. Engineer wanted to laugh, “Yeah. They had a shop in my hometown. ‘Conagher’s Tools & Munitions.’” Engineer told him instead, stifling a grin, “Wild bunch they were. I suppose they must’ve sold their stuff underground too.”

“Hm.” The other Engineer hummed in response. Slowly, he brought his hand up to lift his goggles and look him over. His eyes were dark like an oil spill. Engineer didn’t know what he was looking for, or why he even bothered to let him live in the first place. But he didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I need to get back.” Engineer spoke at last. The RED Engineer simply raised his bottle at him and inclined his head with a friendly smile.

“Go on, then. I won’t keep you waiting.”

When Engineer found his way out of the tunnels, he spotted Sniper’s scope sticking out of a window and waved at him. After a moment, Engineer spotted a blue sleeve out of the window waving back.

He figured that he might as well make a dispenser for him.

A few minutes later when the dispenser was already up and ready, Sniper bounded down the stairs, nearly barrelling into Engineer’s dispenser in his haste to crouch near it.

Engineer caught him by the shoulders, “Woah, slim! What’s got ya panicking?”

He noticed the wooden statuette sitting in Sniper’s vest pocket, the upper half of a monstrous looking bear with a rounded nose and large ears poked out of the top. Sniper must’ve finished his whittling then.

Sniper found his balance and shook off Engineer’s hold. He gritted his teeth, “That bloody Spy got my roost. Hate to ask this, but could ya keep an eye out for me, mate? I dunno if he’s followed me.”

“Will do.” Engineer was the best suited for this. Plus, he and Sniper were the most targeted by the RED Spy. He was sure that it would be irresistible bait to have them in the same place. There was no way the Spy would change targets and leave.

Sniper had already set up his rifle when Engineer caught sight of him. The RED Spy slowly crept towards them, somehow managing to step over all the old creaky floorboards. Engineer pretended to busy himself with upgrading the dispenser.

Sniper was dead focused through his scope. You could barely see him breathe.

The cloak shifted, a shimmering heatwave in the sunlight. Engineer kept facing forwards, looking out of the corner of his eye. He had one chance to get it right.

The Spy raised his knife.

Sniper jerked out of the way as the RED Spy’s body dropped onto the ground with a dull thump, head caved in from the force of the blow to the skull. Blood splattered across the ground, gleaming dimly on the wet drops in the sunlight. Engineer wiped the Gunslinger on his overalls.

“Fuckin’ hell, truckie.” Sniper breathed, “Thanks, mate.”

Engineer grinned viciously, “Ain’t no problem, Sniper. Just a bit of revenge.”

The match went on, and the RED Spy respawned.

Again, again and again. Engineer’s cheeks hurt from how much he was smiling. The Spy was on him like red on a barn, coming at him from every angle humanly possible.

It didn’t even matter when Engineer got a bit too careless and ended back at Respawn from the RED Soldier’s rockets or the RED Heavy’s gun, the Spy was dying more times than the last two weeks combined.

Most times the Spy would disguise as plausibly as he could, but it didn’t matter when Engineer could see through them all. It was even better when he pretended to play along, forcing the other to pick up polite conversation and waste precious minutes on the clock trying to find the right time to strike.

The cherry on top was shooting the Spy through the shoulder just as he, Medic and Heavy walked right onto the last point, capturing it in record time.

“Victory!” The Administrator announced. A round of cheers exploded from the BLUs all over the battlefield. Medic and Heavy immediately broke out into dance. Engineer raised the Gunslinger into the air with a whoop of triumph.

Their weapons crackled with electric blue energy as the humiliation round began. Engineer couldn’t help the victorious laugh that erupted from his chest as he shot that Spy dead in a single hit.

The walk back to base felt shorter than usual, with the sound of Scout bragging about taking on half of the RED team all at once and Spy interrupting with his own recount of backstabbing the RED Pyro ringing through the desert air.

The team threw a small celebration, with everybody toasting with their drink of choice for the fast victory. Engineer felt like he was floating above the clouds.

He had been running on a high, and there was simply nothing that could get him down.

Much later in the night, he turned off the light-switch in his room, settled down into his bed and drew the rough covers up to his neck. Getting comfortable on the barebones mattress, Engineer was ready to sleep knowing that he had gotten a margin of his payback.

A few days later, Scout did a doubletake when Engineer arrived at the breakfast table.

“Christ, Engie! You look more terrible than Spy! Wait a sec, no, that can’t be right.” Spy cuffed the man on the back of the head.

Heavy uncrossed his arms, brow creased in concern. “Little Scout is right. When is last time you sleep?”

Engineer laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand, “Just haven’t been sleepin’ well recently.”

He hadn’t been sleeping at all.

Truthfully, Engineer hadn’t been able to sleep for the last four days.

Closing his eyes meant that he was staring into the ceiling. If he rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, he could still see the faint texture even when he closed his eyes.

His mind always ran wild at night, with trains of thought that zipped around his mind like electric sparks, most days the darkness behind his eyelids was the only thing that could lull him to sleep.

Now he didn’t even have that anymore.

When that spark of a successful creation faded, Engineer was left like the fading red-hot glow of molten metal.

He wasn’t a stranger to staying up for days at a time. In fact, that was probably how he had gotten so far without collapsing entirely.

Each and every battle felt torturous. Hauling gear with exhaustion weighing down his limbs, he had never felt his loss of concentration so keenly. Not only that, the RED Spy, humiliated by Engineer’s revenge, had started coming at him from sneakier angles. Engineer could feel the RED Engineer’s stare from across the field too.

The combined paranoia and sleeplessness became a formula for failure. Engineer had been scoring less and less each day.

Then after the battle was over, he’d either work in the workshop until the sun came up, or he’d try and fail to get some shuteye. Just stare at the ceiling through his eyelids ‘til dawn.

It had gotten to the point where Engineer had passed out on the floor of Respawn during a match, the brief void of death after being shot through the head had been enough for his brain to trick itself into falling asleep.

Medic shook him awake, concern and confusion twisting his expression.

“Herr Engineer?” Medic shook his shoulder again.

Engineer grumbled, a terrible whine building at the back of his throat in frustration. He wanted to sleep. He wanted the blissful nothingness back. He pressed his face into his arms and curled up further. The lights in the Respawn room were blinding him.

He dragged himself to the frontlines and ended up getting backstabbed again.

They lost the match. During dinner, Engineer morosely picked at his food. He didn’t feel hungry, but he was never one to waste food made by others. Walking past Sniper, he set his plate in the sink. Thankfully, it wasn’t his turn to wash the dishes.

He left for his workshop soon after. He had to work on the mock-up of the new Gunslinger.

Later in the night, a stern knocking pattern drummed at the door. It was Medic. Engineer recognised the knocking as a tune to a German song the man played for the team one day. He swears, you never know what people can do before they set their bonesaw between their knees and start playing it like a stringed instrument.

“Door’s unlocked.” Engineer called tiredly to Medic through the door. Demo had left to do his bedtime routine some hours ago. Engineer couldn’t remember how long, but he had forgotten to lock the door and Engineer was too tired to get up from his work to lock it again.

The stiff heel of Medic’s boots clacked against the concrete as he strolled in, the door left open behind him. Engineer kept his head down, tilting his neck as he fiddled with the tiny wires inside of the panel using his tweezers.

Medic came up right up to Engineer but stayed silent for some reason. For a moment, Engineer contemplated just ignoring the doctor until he could finish up, but he threw away the thought immediately. His pa and grandpappy didn’t raise a rude man.

Engineer looked up and was about to greet the doctor, but Medic cut him off.

“Herr Engineer.” His tone was unexpectedly cold.

That was strange to say the least.

Medic’s emotions always ran hot, from the battlefield to day-to-day life. When he was happy, he cheered and danced without abandon. When he was frustrated, he’d shout and cry. When he was angry, he’d curse and start manhandling whoever pissed him off.

The glare of the ceiling light reflecting off his glasses hid Medic’s eyes from sight.

“Howdy, doc, what’s wrong?” Engineer flashed a strained smile. He had no idea what to say. He’d never seen the doc like this. Blank face, tone like steel.

Accusatory.

“I’d like to ask you the same thing, Engineer. Given that you stole my medi-gun a week ago.”

Engineer froze. He ducked his head, “I dunno what you mean by that, doc.”

“Do not lie to me, Engineer.” Medic slammed his hand onto Engineer’s table. It rattled under the pressure.

“Herr Spy saw you sneaking outside of the base with the medi-gun after lunch last week while he was cloaked. Both Demo und Pyro have said that you’ve been acting strange lately, and after some questioning, Archimedes backed up Herr Spy’s claim!”

Things were rapidly spiralling out of control. Engineer could feel himself sweat, his mouth pulled into a nervous grin, “Doc, you don’t understand, I was running out of time and I had to—”

“I told you that I would help you if you wanted to replace something again! But you just run off, and not only that, you go and steal my equipment like I wouldn’t notice!”

Medic grabbed the front of Engineer’s overalls. The doctor was shaking in fury. “You did not even allow me to witness the procedure!”

“Just let me explain, doc!” Engineer tried to pry Medic’s grip open to release himself, but to no avail. “I just – I needed to do it myself. I’m sorry, I swear it completely slipped my mind to ask you. Demo an’ Pyro were going to find out soon and I was running out of time until the next match!”

The doctor raised an accusing finger at him, “Engineer, I am not stupid, do you hear me? I am not so stupid to think that you ‘forgot’ to tell me. I personally made sure that your memory is far beyond human capabilities. Now, what did you replace this time? The other arm, or was it a leg?”

Medic started patting Engineer down, pulling off his glove and tossing it to the side, examining the Gunslinger with squinted eyes and pulling Engineer around like he was a cadaver.

“My eyes, alright! It was my eyes, now calm down!” Engineer attempted to placate him with raised hands.

Medic immediately yanked Engineer’s goggles off, and his hardhat flew through the air and clattered on the floor.

“Wh– Medic!” Engineer shouted, feeling irritation and anger creeping up his spine, “Would it kill ya to be gentle!? These things took a lot to make!”

This time Medic grabbed his face to inspect the eyes. Engineer ground his teeth together. He did not appreciate being tossed this way and that like a damn toy.

Once he was done, Medic demanded, “And what of your organic eyes? Do you even have them anymore?”

His gaze flicked around the workshop as if Engineer would just casually keep his gouged eyes in a jar on his work desk.

“They’re in my room.” Engineer said. An indignant edge clipped his words short, “I wouldn’t just leave ‘em in the workshop. I’ll get ‘em for ya later. I’m gonna kindly have to ask ya to leave, Doc. I’m busy.”

“Oh no, my friend, you are not getting away that easily. Unless you want me to start a study on what happens when the human sleep schedule is forcibly monitored, you are going to tell me why you fell asleep during the match today.” Medic tutted sternly, “Your scores have not been getting any better.”

Engineer rubbed his temples. He begrudgingly muttered, “It’s the eyes. They see through my eyelids, and I haven’t been able to sleep. That’s all.”

Medic frowned in confusion, tilting his head like one of his doves and pressing a palm to his cheek, “If you wanted to see what being without eyelids was like, then why did you make new eyes instead of removing your eyelids entirely?”

“What? No! The eyes weren’t made for seeing through my eyelids, they’re for seeing through the Spy’s disguises!” Engineer stabbed a finger into Medic’s coat.

“It changes the whole damn game, Medic, but I haven’t been able to fuckin’ sleep and I’m feelin’ crazier than a bat outta hell. Now if you could get out of my workshop that would be greatly appreciated!”

But Medic didn’t respond. He stood there, visibly processing what Engineer had said.

“They see through Herr Spy’s disguises?” He murmured quietly, eyes wide, “You stole my medi-gun, deliberately kept me out of the operation, and you did not even tell the rest of the team?”

Engineer lowered his hand. The anger drained out of him. Dread rushed in to replace it. His heart started to pound.

“Medic, calm down—”

“Do not tell me to calm down! Engineer, our team has been losing for days and you have not told us anything about these new replacements of yours!"

Engineer backed up, trying to get some distance. Medic only seemed to get more irate.

"We have been scraping for victories for months with no end in sight when it seems as though your ‘eyes’ could have helped!” Medic stepped closer, looming over Engineer,

“Pyro sat in my office all evening because they were worried about you, and have been worried about you for almost two weeks!”

Engineer held his hands in front of him, gesturing to the open door of his workshop, “Cool your jets, Medic, you’re gonna wake the whole base at this rate!”

“You know what, Herr Engineer?” To Engineer’s horror, Medic slammed the BLU alarm button near the door and roared,

“Dummkopfs! Wake up, wake up! I’m calling a team meeting!”

Chapter Text

The resounding stomp of the gunboats that got louder and louder immediately gave away who would be arriving first as the alarms blared.

Engineer dove for his hardhat on the floor and tackled Medic to grab his goggles. He managed to wrestle his goggles onto his face before–

Soldier slammed his workshop door that was already open. It slammed into the wall and left a dent in the concrete.

“Solly, any more of that and you’re payin’ for my wall.” Engineer complained from the headlock Medic had him in.

Ignoring him, Soldier loudly cocked his shotgun, helmet low over his eyes, “What on God’s green Earth is happening here!? Has Demoman’s open side of the base invited hostiles to invade!? If nobody tells me who they are, I will start shooting!”

Soldier then wildly swung his gun towards Medic and Engineer, the end of it propped against his shoulder at the ready. The two continued staring at each other in contempt even while Soldier contemplatively swung the muzzle between them like he was considering who to shoot first.

A low murmur of complaints reached Engineer’s ears. Over Soldier’s shoulders, he could spot the other mercenaries wandering at the doorway.

“Doc, what’d you call us up for?” Scout had his hands half-wrapped, the ends falling down his palms. He sniffed at the air and wrinkled his nose. “Do we gotta stay in here? Smells like rust an’ oil.”

Bold statement from a man whose room was filled with BONK! cans.

“There’s enough of y’all crowdin’ my workshop.” Engineer grumbled, reluctantly going limp in Medic’s hold. If he was going to have this conversation, he wasn’t going to do it here, “Let’s talk in the living room.”

The other mercs were barely awake as they shuffled into the living room. Scout yawned loudly, eyes already closing. Sniper’s sunglasses were sleepily lopsided on his face.

Most of them were clad in whatever passed as pyjamas for them. Heavy in particular wearing a set with blue bears stitched lovingly into the fabric of his shirt. Pyro had their puffy night cap stuck to the top of their mask.

“What’s the problem, doc?” Demo slurred, out of exhaustion rather than his usual drunkenness.

Medic clapped his hands with a sharp grin, “Why don’t you ask Engineer that, hm?”

A few of the mercs raised their eyebrows at the beckoning tone, but turned to Engineer anyways.

With a stubborn frown, Engineer lifted his goggles up. He blinked a few times, squinting and expecting judgement.

But the response was anticlimactic. While a few of the mercs looked mildly surprised at him taking off his goggles around them for the first time, they didn’t look particularly impressed.

“So…your eyes are blue? Big whoop. Nearly all o’ us got blue eyes, what’s the big deal?” Scout threw up his hands in a mix of irritation and exhaustion, “Some o’ us wanna go back to sleep here!”

Other mercs mumbled in agreement with various degrees of disgruntlement.

Medic clapped his hands together to silence the chatter, then commented mildly, “Engineer has pulled off a feat of technology! His new eyes see through the disguise and cloak technology of Spies! Oh, and his eyelids I suppose.”

Spy’s mouth fell open, eyes wide, his unlit cigarette falling onto the floor. Everyone else went still.

“No shit?” Scout exclaimed incredulously, suddenly wide awake. Heavy hummed doubtfully, a frown twisting at his lip.

“One way to find out.” Spy said, then activated his cloak with a flick of his wrist, beginning a pace around the room. The smoke that trailed off his suit lingered for a few seconds, but soon he had vanished completely.

Well, Engineer assumed that was what it looked like to everyone else. He simply walked forwards, twisted around Demo and Sniper then tapped Spy on the shoulder.

Spy deactivated his cloak, eyes wide and furious.

Soldier marched up to Engineer and slapped his hand on his shoulder, beaming widely, “It seems you have gained a great achievement, private! Your contribution will be of great importance in the battlefield!”

“At the cost of what, is the question.” Spy cut in. His eyes were narrowed with what might be suspicion or gleaming anger. It was anyone’s guess.

No one was saying it outright, but Engineer had eyebags the size of the damn payload they haul every other month. He’s pretty sure they knew what the consequence of having these eyes were.

“Hard to sleep when you see through your eyelids. I don’t think I can sleep anythin’ short of drinking ‘til I black out.” Engineer shrugged. He scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm, more out of habit than anything, “Haven’t been able to sleep for nearly four days now, if I’m being honest –“

A loud, muffled gasp turned everyone’s gaze to Pyro. They rushed out of the room in a blur.

Heavy frowned, “I will check with little Pyro. Continue talking.”

He followed after them. In the lingering quiet, Demo drove his way through the others, horror painted across his face. Quick as a lash, Demo gripped Engineer’s shoulder in a mimicry to their talk a few weeks ago.

“What have you done?” Demo whispered, terrified and angry. “Engie, what have you done to yourself, you daft fool?”

Engineer didn’t know how to answer. ‘I’ve done something good, something brilliant.’ He wanted to say, ‘It was worth it, wasn’t it?’

He thought about how proud he felt after the procedure was done, after he had killed the RED Spy over and over, after the match was won. He thought the eyes would make his grandpappy proud, his father proud.

But Radigan and Fred Conagher were far, far away from here.

And when Demo stared down at him, Dell Conagher was just a man. A man who had made a foolish mistake.

Demo looked pained, brows creased together, mouth pulled down, a squint in his eye; like he had lost something, like he was remembering something. He pulled in a deep breath and when he spoke, it sounded guilted and hollow, “You asked me before. After I blew my workshop up. So, is it one or both?”

Oh. So Demo did remember him asking about his eye.

“Both.” Engineer tried to smile reassuringly. It fell flat.

Demo pressed the back of his hand to his face, curling around it like he was holding back from breaking entirely. Then he lifted his canteen and desperately drained it in long pulls of whiskey.

“I hope ye think it’s fuckin’ worth it.” His voice was harsh from the burn of alcohol. His accent spilled over the edges of his words like the tears that were beading in the corner of his eye. “’Cause one day, you’re going to look at yourself in the mirror, an’ you’re going to regret everything. Everything, you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, Demo.” Engineer said, shocked. It echoed emptily. He couldn’t really understand what he was apologising for.

Demo refused to look at him. He roughly wiped his face and left the room. Engineer flinched when the slam of Demo’s door echoed into the living room.

“Yikes.” Scout muttered, rubbing his eyes and warily looking out where Demo just stormed out. “You guys figure this out, I’m goin’ back to bed.” The man left, fiddling with the loose ends of his hand wraps.

Beside Engineer, Medic turned to face him. “You better give me your eyes tomorrow, Herr Engineer.” He sternly reminded him.

The steely look told Engineer that he hadn’t been forgiven just yet. The meeting was just a taste of revenge.

But he would be forgiven, eventually. Engineer and Medic had an understanding, from one mad scientist to another.

“I’m going to my lab.”

But not just yet. Trust splintered like wood rot settling into the ceiling beams. Engineer felt like the old farmhouse back home in Bee Cave, alone and empty save for the cobwebs and cowbirds nesting in the rafters.

Sniper shuffled uncomfortably on the sidelines. Glancing around, he shuffled closer to Engineer.

“Thanks, truckie.” He murmured under his breath, “The other Spy’s been botherin’ me less. It was ‘cause of you, yeah?”

Sniper didn’t wait for Engineer to answer, just bumped him awkwardly on the shoulder, “If ya need anythin’, gimme a shout. G’night.”

With that, Sniper left out the double doors of the base back to his camper.

Then Engineer was alone. Except for one.

It took Engineer a moment to realise that Spy was cloaked, which was why he hadn’t spoken up yet. The man thought he was still invisible.

A faint blue steam bubbled on the edges of the Spy’s suit, originating at his watch, where it swirled lazily like a storm cloud. It grew fainter as the cloak slowly ran out.

“Spy, I can see you there. You know that.” Engineer looked at him directly.

Spy let out an audible sigh and tapped his watch to deactivate it. The blue steam rose into the air, small puffs of clouds vanishing into the atmosphere. The sound of the cloak disappearing echoed in time with the click of Spy’s lighter as he lit another cigarette.

“Say your two cents already, Spy. I’m tired.” Four days without sleep weighed heavier on his shoulders than any toolbox he could carry. He was tired of bridges breaking under his feet, the sand sinking under his boots. Engineer couldn’t bother with politeness anymore.

Spy blew out smoke through gritted teeth as he frustratedly muttered, “Engineer, I would have appreciated if you had informed me of an invention that interferes with a third of my entire fucking job.”

“You do understand what happens if the other team gets their hands on those, correct?” Spy gestured with his cigarette towards Engineer’s eyes. He squinted through the smoke. “—I become useless.”

Engineer rolled his eyes. That was a bit of an overexaggeration.

Spy scoffed loudly in offence and some hurt. Ah, right. Engineer wasn’t wearing his goggles.

“Might I remind you, the last time someone discovered something that changed the dynamic of this war, it quite literally took my head off.” Spy pointedly gestured at the faint ring of scars that wrapped around his neck, peeking out from underneath his blue balaclava.

Engineer winced at the reminder.

Spy never talked about the two months spent in the RED Medic’s fridge. It had left the man with the sort of stubborn indifference that came with a ruined pride.

The match itself had been deemed unofficial because the RED Team was being interviewed for some filming thing from Administration.

Engineer had been doing the monthly recalibration with Respawn when Soldier blew himself up on accident. The result was a ridiculously large army of clone Soldiers marching to the RED base all at once. It was a disaster.

Then Soldier showed up whole in Respawn, raving about an invulnerable monster on the other side of the battlefield.

The rest of the team could hardly believe it until they got decimated in the next match. Pyro had emptied the tank of their flamethrower in their panic. Heavy had dropped his gun in sheer shock. Engineer had abandoned his nest entirely.

Then Medic was given the blueprints to adjust the medi-gun to accommodate the übercharge.

Then Spy was declared missing.

Engineer waved the smoke out of his face with the Gunslinger, “But the other team won’t get ahold of these. Administration can’t force the other team to alter themselves. It’s not like ordering a fancy new cloak watch. It was my choice to do the procedure. They can’t force the RED Engie to do the same. And I know if he wanted to have the mini-sentries, he would’ve already chopped his arm off.”

“And you would know a lot about ‘what Administration can do’, hm?” Spy snapped.

Engineer reeled back, “What are you gettin’ at, Spy?”

Spy bit out, “You haven’t exactly been coy about it, Monsieur Conagher.”

Ah, fuck.

If he knew about that, then he probably knew about his family’s history with Blutarch. The life-extender machines.

Damn Spies.

Engineer sighed then pulled in a breath, covering his eyes with his hand, feeling one of his longest kept secrets while he had been working for BLU crumble in front of his eyes.

It did nothing, he could still see Spy’s stern expression through his fingers. He dragged his hand down his face. It was a habit he needed to get rid of, “So you know ‘bout that, huh?”

Spy lifted an eyebrow, “It is my job to know about things ‘like that’.”

“Conagher inventions are a family right, boy. I don’t see you wearing that last name on your fancy French lapel.” Engineer stressed.

There was a pause while Spy tapped the end of his cigarette to let the ashes drift to the floor. He took another pull of smoke, “Is that why you didn’t let the good doctor help, hm?”

Engineer bristled, teeth grinding. “It ain’t any different from your pride of bein’ a Spy.”

Spy raised a sceptical eyebrow, “I presume you gouged your eyes out on your filthy workshop floor. All for ‘family pride’. Professionals have more respect for themselves than juvenile mutilation.”

“Is that all you had to say?”

“No.” Spy smirked, “but I will give you some time to get your head back on. Medic and Demoman will be on the warpath with you.”

He strolled out of the living room, smoke lingering behind him.

Engineer collapsed onto the couch, rolling over to press his face into the cushions. If he were in his normal state of mind, he’d be ripping through blueprints to drown out the world crashing around him. But exhaustion pulled at him. He could do nothing but lie there.

Loud footfalls sounded as Heavy came into the room with a cup full of milk, wordlessly offering it to Engineer.

The comforting warmth seeped into his glove. The Gunslinger curled around the body of the mug. Engineer couldn’t help the giggles that sprung up at the image of Heavy stirring a tiny pot of warm milk on the stove with a teeny tiny spoon. The sleep deprivation was really getting to him.

Finally, Heavy spoke. “Is not your real eye colour.”

Engineer startled, “…How did ya know?”

He was pretty sure he’d never shown anyone his eyes before, not even when he was drunk out of his mind during team nights.

Gesturing with his hands, Heavy elaborated, “In battle, when Engineer fell unconscious after sentry exploded in face. Hit head on the wall corner. Heavy check your eyes for concussion. Eyes were not this colour.”

Engineer was at a loss for words, “…I don’t remember that, son.”

“Of course not.” Heavy nodded solemnly, “You had concussion.”

Engineer rubbed his temples, cursing himself. Of course, out of all the ways it could’ve happened, he didn’t even remember it.

“How did colour change?” Heavy asked curiously.

“Had a mistake with the materials. Forgot to change the shade from the blueprints.” Engineer admitted. “It’s weird, I suppose. I was always told I had my pa’s eyes. It’s strange lookin’ into a mirror and not seeing them there.”

Wistfulness curled in his chest. His pa grinning at Dell when he was a young upstart kid, trying to follow in dad's footsteps. He wasn't lying. It was weird seeing his eyes in the mornings, so unlike the colour he had known all his life.

Heavy seemed to think for a moment, then slowly said,

“Father’s legacy hard to keep. Heavy would know.”

It wasn’t banned for the mercs to talk about their families, Scout mentioned his ma all the time, but it wasn’t very common for them to.

Engineer gently patted Heavy’s shoulder with the Gunslinger in support.

“Engineer’s father still lives on in here, and here.” Heavy poked roughly at Engineer’s heart and head.

“What?” Engineer shook his head, confused. Realisation hit him upside the head. He'd accidentally been talking about his pa like he was long gone and given Heavy the wrong idea.

Engineer waved his hand around, “Ah, not like that! My pa’s still kickin’ around and makin’ machines. It’s uh, the family business.”

At that moment, Pyro burst back into the living room, they lifted one of their storybooks high into the air like they were presenting it to the ceiling, cheerfully humming out a triumphant tune. Engineer boggled at them.

“Pyro suggested Heavy read to Engineer to sleep.” Heavy explained. An embarrassed heat immediately flushed through Engineer’s face. He was a grown man, he didn’t need to be read to like a kid!

Heavy seemed to think that Engineer’s red face was because he thought he was inconveniencing them by doing this. He waved a hand, “No worries, have done before. It is no issue.”

Before Engineer could protest further, he was buried in a pile of bedding Pyro had been hiding who-knows-where. They immediately got to work in wrapping him up like a bundled calf.

“Pyro, I’m fine, you don’t need to tuck me in.” At this, Pyro reeled back and gave him an offended stare.

After a few seconds, Engineer sighed. He knew that he was losing this one. He defeatedly settled down into the unreasonably soft blankets and let Pyro fuss over him like a clucky hen.

As Pyro busied themselves with selecting something out of the pile of bedding on the floor, Engineer turned his face into the fluffed pillow. The fabric was unbelievably soft and smelled like gasoline, smoke and some sort of candy fragrance.

Oh. These were Pyro’s pillows. They were one of the few who specially ordered better blankets and mattresses than the ones they were given, with a hundred stuffed toys on top of that.

“Pyro?” Engineer said. Pyro finished hurriedly fluffing an extra pillow and turned to him. Something twisted inside of his chest. “I’m sorry for worryin’ ya, an’ for not tellin’ ya anything.”

Pyro sat back on their heels and lifted a hand but faltered, trying to search for the exact meaning they wanted to convey. Firmly, they pressed a hand to their heart, then leant forwards to press the same hand to his heart.

Engineer looked at their hand, then at them. He laughed, relief blooming in his chest, “A heart to heart, huh?”

The ground under him felt a little more stable.

Pyro slid a sleeping mask over his face. The fabric was wrapped snuggly around his head just like his goggles would be.

What were they trying to do? Engineer blinked behind the eye mask. Oh. They were trying to make it dark enough for him to sleep.

Engineer murmured apologetically and waved his hand in front of his face in demonstration. Then he lifted the fabric up with the thumb of the Gunslinger.

“Sorry, Py, doesn’t work. Too thin.” He told them. Pyro put a hand to their chin thoughtfully. Then they grabbed one of the pillows and flung it full-force into his face. Engineer’s yelp of surprise was muffled by the pillow.

“What was that for!?”

Pyro put their hands over the eyes of their mask, a muffled positive coming from them. Engineer hesitantly copied them with pillow in hand.

It felt awkward, having the pillow cover the top half his face. It was darker though, he could give them that. He could breathe too, which was always an upside.

“So, uh, let’s get started.” He muttered, feeling kind of ridiculous.

Lightly coughing into his fist, Heavy began. Despite the picture book having pretty simple captions, Heavy read through it with care.

Heavy’s voice was perfect for reading, Engineer thought sleepily. He should start a radio station or something. Engineer wouldn’t mind listening to this on the long road trips in the van to pick up parts from the next town.

But as Engineer closed his eyes, a familiar nervousness reared up in the back of his mind like before.

Maybe he was better off staying awake another day. If he fell asleep, he didn’t know when he would wake up, he didn’t know if he could.

The texture of the pillow seemed endless past his eyelids despite how shadowed it was. Engineer didn’t want to waste their efforts, but part of him just wanted to shake off the blankets and excuse himself to work on the new Gunslinger design until the next day—

A solid weight fell beside him, careful not to jostle the cocoon of blankets. Pyro just laid beside him, most certainly cramped on the couch, but gently patting a gloved hand on his shoulder.

Engineer’s breathing slowed.

At last, Engineer could feel the relaxing tendrils of sleep creeping up on him. He could’ve cried with relief if not for how exhausted he was. Finally, Engineer sunk into a deep, blissfully blank sleep.

Chapter Text

The battlefield air was thick with the burning stench of cheap fabric. Mann Co. never liked spending lots of money on uniforms, even if they respawned every match. The synthetic crap always made the Pyros’ flamethrowers smell worse but hey, they had signed up for worse than melted clothes on skin.

Scout looked out on the arid battlefield, catching a glimpse of red and ducking back into his hiding spot behind the wall of the old wooden shed. In time with an inaudible countdown, Scout made a run for it, bat held haphazardly in a loose grip.

“Pyro! Look out, buddy!” He called, rushing to swing at the opposing RED Scout racing by.

From across the field, a whistle rang loud and long. Pyro immediately turned and torched Scout at point blank range.

The RED Spy howled in pain as he was scorched to death, his disguise dissipating with his dying rasp.

Engineer’s whistle was cut off by a sharp thwack of the RED Scout’s bat to his face.

“I used to help my pa round up the cattle.” Engineer had explained to his team a few days before, “Taught me this trick to whistle loud as hell to call ‘em, I bet you’d be able to hear me ‘cross the battlements.”

“No need, Ingénieur.” Spy refuted with a raised hand, “You just need to be loud enough for us to hear over the gunfire.”

So Engineer began to act as their alert. For once, his mobility in the field had become helpful instead of a hinderance in its initial unfamiliarity, giving himself a better vantage. It gave him power. It gave BLU team a winning chance.

Spy had been right; the eyes rendered the role of disguise utterly useless. A trump card turned into nothing but a dummy to shoot bullets at. Engineer almost felt bad, but their winning streak turned his mood for the better.

Every now and then they would lose. After all, there was still the rest of the RED Team to even the scales, they were far from just their Spy, but they had a chance. That was enough. It had to be.

The RED Scout nailed him in the face with his bat again and Engineer’s world briefly went white with the other man’s annoying laughter ringing in his ears.

He wiped roughly at his nose, the blood dripping down the side of his lip. He managed to stagger away to get to a medkit in the corner, roughly prying it open to chug some of the medicine inside.

The faint hum of the medi-gun reached his ears. Medic marched forward with Heavy, brows set as the two of them squinted against the blazing sunlight.

Engineer and Medic hadn’t talked in the past few days, not even when handing over his eyes over the dining table. The tension was so thick no one dared to scold them for breaking the Dinnertime Rulez.

Scout didn’t even fake-gag at Engineer’s eyes floating around the preservation fluid while he was handing out breakfast.

The table had been dead silent. Engineer had glanced up, unable to help himself. Demo hadn’t looked up from morosely picking at his plate. The hazy look in his eye said that he was drinking more than usual.

Soldier jostled his shoulder, not particularly gently but with surprising sincerity, and Demo grabbed his plate by the sides to turn further away from Engineer. Engineer swallowed down the scalding feeling building up in his throat and went back to eating.

He scooped a spoonful of Scout’s slightly burnt scrambled eggs into his mouth and swallowed.

He hadn’t been able to taste anything.

A shot rang out.

Gasping, Engineer awoke in the Respawn room. His teleporter buzzed at the exit of the base. It was quiet, everyone else was on the front lines.

“Damn.” Engineer cursed to himself, adjusting his hardhat, “Stop gettin’ distracted, Engie.”

Stop thinking about it.

He was lucky no one was there to see him zone out in the middle of the battlefield. To be fair, they’ve all done worse mid-battle, so it wasn’t like any of them could say anything either. Scout once bit the dust slipping on the RED Demo’s grenade and then blew up in front of everyone. The team made fun of him for weeks.

Engineer stepped onto the teleporter platform and onto the field. The teleporter had been set up a little out of the way, squirreled away behind a building for cover.

He had just taken those first few steps before the sound of something wrong warbled behind him. Then, the distinct sound of a sapper. The teleporter sparked and stopped.

Immediately, Engineer took off into a run. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck, feeling like a cornered animal. Curses slipped from his lips. Engineer clambered up the stairs. He needed to get a better vantage point.

A sudden push forced Engineer to the ground, a shout escaping his throat as he landed roughly on the wood, air punched out of his chest.

“Labourer.”

The RED Spy had both of Engineer’s hands pinned. Despite Engineer violently thrashing and trying to buck him off like a rodeo bull, the other man still managed to light a cigarette with ease. Engineer redoubled his efforts out of spite, but it was no use.

Finally, the RED Spy spoke, “Your team has been different. I know you are the cause.”

Crap. The jig was up. It wasn’t like they were really trying to hide it, but Engineer hadn’t been expecting confrontation. Not like this. Not with help out of reach.

“What kind of Spy are you if you gotta ask me directly?” Engineer spat, chin against the ground. He refused to give it up so easily.

“Hm.” The RED Spy hummed consideringly. Engineer could practically hear the smug smile and wanted to shoot it off, “A good one, I would say.”

Engineer laughed, mocking, “Awh, are you gettin’ tired of respawning? Bet those tile walls are lookin’ mighty fine today, how ‘bout I send you back?”

He could feel the sweat on the back of his neck, afraid despite himself. The metal of the Gunslinger flashed in the bright afternoon sun, reflecting the speckled blood that had dried on it. The RED Spy’s blood.

The RED Spy scoffed at his threat. He was probably rolling his eyes too, the bastard.

Engineer choked on his breath as the RED Spy pressed his shoe harder into the back of his neck. He wasn’t messing around anymore.

“Labourer, I’ve let you have your fun–“

At that moment, a shot struck the beam of the ceiling above their heads, wooden splinters raining down on them.

The RED Spy cursed Sniper’s name.

Engineer tried to wriggle his way out with the opportunity Sniper gave him – stamping his boots on the ground to gain some leverage - but he couldn’t break free.

The RED Spy pulled his revolver from the inside of his suit, loading and cocking it, aiming through the window at the perpetrator.

He fired in steady increments. One, two, three.

The third bullet made its mark. In the opposite building, Sniper cursed a blue streak, grabbing his wounded leg. His balance staggering, he twisted to duck behind the wall as blood seeped through his fingers. His foot slipped, and it was happening quicker than he could react.

Sniper fell out the window.

The ground rushed towards him.

Falling.

Sniper’s scream caught painfully in his throat when he hit the ground with a loud thump, barely managing to tuck and roll. He was covered in sand, his hat was laying on the ground somewhere. Pain splayed halfway across his body.

Sniper gingerly pushed himself up onto his elbows on the rough ground, but a sound reached his ears past the ringing pain.

The RED Heavy laughing uproariously, having found a new target in Sniper himself. Panic raced through him. His eyes went wide behind his sunglasses.

No time.

Sniper grabbed his rifle from the ground and barely had time to squint through the scope before his finger was already squeezing the trigger.

The RED Heavy went down. Falling like a ragdoll into the blazing summer sand. The shot was clean.

Sniper’s breath rushed out of his lungs in one big flood.

While he was distracted, the RED Medic pulled out his saw and got Sniper in the side, face twisted in anger. Sniper barely felt it, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

His rifle jerked downwards. Bang. The RED Medic went down.

A war cry, bellowing over the fields. Red once more. One more target.

It was racing towards him.

Sniper felt his focus narrow down into a split second.

No time to breathe.

The sun shone brighter in his eyes without his hat blocking it.

Time slowed.

Sheer, ecstatic concentration.

The muzzle of his rifle jolted to the side, following the RED Demo’s trajectory.

His finger grazed the trigger.

Bang.

The RED Demo went down.

From the other building, a cacophony of fighting reached Sniper’s ears. Sniper heaved for breath like he had finally broken the surface of water while drowning. The evidence of his kills quickly dissipated, but he could hear the lingering echoes of his shots ringing in the dusty valley.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Sniper whispered to himself, equally in awe and disbelief. In the next moment, he collapsed onto one knee with a groan of pain.

“Medic!” He called, wincing and stumbling over to grab his hat and shake off the sand.

The inside of the loft was a whirlwind of violence. Taking the moment of distraction, Engineer had leant back on his shoulders and kicked out, nailing the RED Spy in the gut. Scuffling with their respective weapons, wooden splinters and shrapnel littered the room.

Engineer kept his back to the wall, shotgun in hand, but he didn’t know how long he would be able to last.

However, instead of risking it, RED Spy grimaced, spitting out the cigarette and activating his cloak. Pretending to run for the stairs, the RED Spy stepped backwards as if hoping the smoke would fool Engineer and he’d be able to sneak off.

Engineer tracked the RED Spy zealously. He wasn’t letting that snake out of his sight anymore.

Engineer threw a haymaker into the RED Spy’s jaw with the Gunslinger, knocking him down against the wall. He pressed the cold barrel of his shotgun between the other man’s eyes.

“Caught you, rat bastard.” He snarled.

The RED Spy spat out a curse, like he had just realised something.

Engineer pulled the trigger.

Brains splattered the wall, and the RED-suited Spy crumpled like a poorly strung marionette. Engineer panted like he had ran the length of the battlefield thrice over. He swore he could feel scuffmarks on the back of his neck from the RED Spy’s stupidly fancy shoes.

Though the window and the heat haze, Engineer spotted the control point. Bullets and tiny RED and BLU dots fought in the sand. Slowly, Engineer limped to join them, leaving the RED Spy’s body to disintegrate and respawn.

By the time he made it to the control point, a lull had fallen over the battlefield. The rush had failed. Engineer was stuck waiting for backup. Since the RED Spy had sapped the teleporter hunting him, everyone would be running frantically from spawn.

Engineer sat down with a slump, resting his head against the old, dilapidated planks of wood. Above him, there was the hesitant thud of boots against roof tiles. Jolting to attention, Engineer aimed his shotgun at the sky.

“Herr Engineer.”

Medic jumped down from the rooftop above Engineer, tucking and rolling. The fleeing doctor was covered in scratches and dust and clearly winded. The medi-beam connected with a soft clunk of the machinery, and the healing rays ran over him, a soothing balm closing over Engineer’s wounds.

Engineer expected Medic to disconnect the medi-beam and find someone else to stick to in the meantime, but Medic stayed tucked close behind him. A few spits of electricity sparked out of the end of the medi-gun. The charge was almost full, and Medic wasn’t moving.

“Doc?” Engineer questioned, half in disbelief. Medic looked back at him in determination, a glint of desperation in his eyes. He didn’t speak. Engineer pursed his lips and nodded tightly.

It would be a reckless gamble. Engineer had never been the patient of the übercharge before. He had never been close enough to the battle before. There was no guarantee for this to work, and they both knew it.

Neither of them moved. The crackle of blue light was all the signal they needed.

Medic flipped the switch.

The world exploded in blue and undeniable power.

Engineer whistled, shrill and near-screeching.

He swung and nailed the nearest RED – the RED Soldier – directly in the helmet.

And by god, Engineer swore he exploded.

They were unstoppable. Engineer laughed raucously, swinging wildly with the Gunslinger. He had never known this would be so much fun.

Spy ran up from the flank, weaving around Engineer and Medic, picking off anyone who tried to flee. It was easier to appreciate his work when Engineer could see him.

Besides him, Scout was the first to reach the front lines, with the others soon to follow. The RED team thoroughly caught up in the flurry of bullets, rockets and fire.

Gasping, Engineer felt the übercharge end. The energy sputtered out.

Creeping over the side of the battle, a heavily wounded Sniper landed on the control point.

Slowly, blue encroached the red glow. The BLU team kept firing, hoping for a miracle as the clock ticked downwards.

“Victory!” The Administrator boomed through the speakers.

The BLU Team collectively shouted in a roaring cheer. Scout tackled Sniper at full speed, knocking them both to the ground, laughing uproariously. Soldier rocket-jumped into them, prompting the others to start dog-piling on them in congratulations.

Engineer lingered on the edge of it, fondly shoving back when Pyro giddily shook his shoulders and slapped them on the back for a job well-done.

As the rest of them raced over to the RED’s spawn for the humiliation round, Engineer couldn’t help but notice the RED Spy share a glance with his team in the moment before Pyro’s axe took him out.

Upon arriving back to their base, Soldier slung an arm around Demo’s shoulders, lugging him off to the side for a game of cards. Eager to win on top of the match, the rest of the team followed them like puppies.

“Deal me in, boys.” Engineer grinned, roughly sitting down in the chair. The rest of them laughed and tossed him a hand of cards. They proceeded to take turns swindling each other blind. Card sharks, the lot of them.

It was almost enough to ignore the fact that Demo still couldn’t meet his eyes and remained quiet, even though most victories he would’ve been chugging his fifth stein of beer while being cheered on by the rest of the team.

The sinking feeling in Engineer’s gut let him know that something was on the horizon.

Engineer was proven correct when, a week later, Miss Pauling announced that Redmond and Blutarch were pronounced dead, killed within seconds of each other.