Chapter Text
“How do I look?”
The red-haired teenager looked up from the couch at her father, who was dressed in a denim shirt with jeans, a cowboy hat and boots. “Daddy, you look ridiculous.”
“Why, what’s wrong with it?” he asked.
“First off, ya don’t go around wearin’ denim with denim,” she said, getting up from the couch. “An’ second,” she took off his hat, “lose th’ hat.”
“I like that hat!” her father protested, his shaved head now exposed. He took the white ten-gallon hat back from his daughter and held it over his chest.
“You look like a dork,” she said. “Go change yer shirt. You ain’t seen these friends a’ yers in… how many years was it?”
“Eight years,” he said.
“Right, well, ya ain’t seen ‘em in eight years, an’ you wanna show up lookin’ like a rodeo reject after they ain’t seen you in so long?”
“I s’pose not,” he grumbled, looking down at the floorboards.
The girl sighed. “I swear, you can’t seem t’ take care a yerself anymore, you know that?”
“Oh, not this conversation again, Rosie,” her father groaned. “I don’t wanna talk about this now.”
“You never wanna talk about it,” Rosie said, arms akimbo. She loomed over her father, who was a good three inches shorter than she was, and pouted.
He knew she was right, of course. He sighed, and shook his head. “Now’s not the time, pumpkin,” he said.
“Fine,” she conceded. “So, am I allowed to stay here with ya, or what?”
Her father raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Why wouldn’t ya be?”
“I dunno,” she said. “I mean, I don’t wanna… be a bother ‘r nothin’.” The tone she was using seemed to suggest less that she wanted to genuinely leave her father alone with his friends and more that she wanted to guarantee that she would not be shooed out.
“Aw, Rosie, don’t be ridiculous…” he said. “I mean, it ain’t like yer gonna misbehave or nothin’, polite as ya are. I mean if anybody’s gonna be misbehavin’ it’d be…” his voice trailed off.
“Somethin’ wrong, daddy?” she asked.
He sighed. “Jus’… try not t’ git on anybody’s bad side. Some a’ these fellers can tend t’ be a bit… crass, is all.”
“Aw, stop treatin’ me like some kind a’ delicate flower already. I’m a big girl, I can take care a’ myself.”
“Sixteen ain’t that big,” he mumbled.
“It’ll work out,” she said, and kissed him on the forehead. “Now, go change yer shirt.”
“Can I keep th’ boots on, at least?” he asked, sounding a bit more upbeat.
“Yeah,” she said. “Keep th’ boots.”
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
The vehicle to arrive first was a familiar camper van, which almost drove by the ranch had it not been for Engineer waving it down. The driver backed up, pulled in the dusty, dirt driveway, and parked, the whole car shifting into place. Out the driver’s side stepped a lanky, tanned man with sideburns, wearing flared pants and a mustard-colored shirt with some hideous brown pattern splattered on it. The shirt in question had the first three buttons at the top opened, revealing his hairy chest and a rather clunky-looking gold chain looped around his neck. He was, however, still wearing his trademark aviators, and smiled when he looked to Engineer.
“Truckie!” he called out, waving to Engineer.
“Sniper!” Engineer replied, taking Sniper’s hand and shaking it firmly. He gave Sniper a friendly pat on the back, which Sniper reciprocated. “Good t’ see ya, buddy!” He craned his neck up to look through the van windows. “You came alone?”
“Not quite,” said Sniper, gesturing to the camper trailer. “Demo’s asleep in th’ back.”
“Is it even safe fer him t’ be back there when yer drivin’?” Engineer asked with concern.
“Eh, he’s done it before,” said Sniper. “‘Sides, he can’t really go drivin’ around without a license. S’been suspended again.”
“That’s a doggone shame,” said Engineer. “I, uh, notice ya dinnit’ bring yer wi-… uh, girlfriend along.”
“Yeah,” said Sniper. “Best not t’ talk about th’ old lady right now, really.”
“Havin’ a spat?” Engineer asked.
“You could say that,” Sniper said, scratching the back of his head. “Though, it may be a bit more serious than a spat.”
“You don’t gotta talk about nothin’ you don’t want to,” said Engineer. He decided to quickly change the subject. “Last I talked t’ you, you were talkin’ about growin’ a mustache.”
“Yeah,” said Sniper. “That dinnit’ work out so good. I mean, I liked it, but y’know, th’ little woman said it made me look creepy, like a child molester or somethin’.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Engineer said with a chuckle.
“Well, I was goin’ fer th’ Fu Manchu, y’know?” Sniper said. “Y’know, like John Lennon had back in th’ day, or maybe like wot Frank Zappa’s got.”
“I don’t listen t’ either a’ those fellers, I’m afraid,” Engineer said.
“Yeah, I know, ya play Johnny Cash all th’ bloody time,” Sniper said, rolling his eyes. “But, yeah. Apparently I’m not allowed t’ try an’ grow another one.”
“That’s not what th’ fight is about, is it?”
“Nah,” said Sniper. “S’bit more complicated than that.”
“We can talk more inside,” said Engineer. “You thirsty at all? Got a pitcher a’ sweet tea inside, if ya want any.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” said Sniper. “Lemme jes’ make sure th’ ole’ Cyclops dinnit’ die in his sleep back there.” He walked around to the back and opened the camper’s door, poking his head in. “OI! TAVISH!”
Engineer strode up behind the Sniper peering around curiously. He could hear the sound of groaning and shifting inside the van, proof positive that Demoman had not, in fact, died during the trip.
“Git up, ya lazy bastard, we’re ‘ere!” Sniper shouted.
“I heard ye th’ first time, ye git!” Demoman bellowed back.
“Told you ‘e wos fine,” Sniper said, turning back to Engineer as he stepped down from the camper.
Demoman staggered out of the camper, clutching his head and groaning. He, too, was wearing a garish, open-neck shirt, this one with a plaid pattern all over it. The cap that he wore so often back during their tenure with RED was absent, revealing a sizable afro. He looked up at Engineer, and his sour expression instantly brightened. “Oh, Engie!” he said. “Haven’t seen ye in ages!”
“You all right there, Demo?” Engineer asked, as Demoman jumped onto the ground.
“I’ll live,” said Demoman. “How’re ye doin’ lad?”
“Well enough, I s’pose,” said Engineer. “Heard yer driver’s license got suspended.”
“Och, that,” Demoman said, dismissively rolling his eye. “I’ll get it back. Gonna hafta go tae more a’ those blasted AA meetin’s, jes’ like last time.”
“I gotta admit, I’m a little surprised they even let ya drive at all, given yer missin’ eye,” said Engineer.
“Well, I donnae drive often…” said Demoman. “But I can when I need to. Most a’ th’ time…”
“Serves ya right fer drivin’ on th’ wrong side a’ th’ road,” said Sniper.
“It wos th’ right side o’ th’ road!” Demoman snapped back.
“Yeah,” said Sniper. “Everywhere but th’ United States.”
“Oh, like it’s my fault that Americans make their bloody roads backwards,” said Demoman.
“Let’s… take this inside, fellas,” said Engineer. “Come on, we’ll get settled while we wait fer everyone else t’ arrive.”
“Fair enough,” said Sniper, walking up to the house, and noticed a teenage girl standing on the porch, watching him approach. “Oh, hello, there.”
“Howdy,” she said. “Yer th’ Sniper?”
“Used t’ be,” said Sniper. “But I s’pose it’d be weird t’ have Truckie call me anythin’ else so… yeah. You can call me that. Wot’s yer name?”
“Rosie,” she said. “Nice t’ meet ya, Mr. Sniper.” She extended a hand to the Australian, and they shook.
“Ya look quite a bit like yer dad,” he said.
“I get that a lot,” said Rosie, blushing a bit. “Where you from, anyway? England?”
“Uh… no,” said Sniper, wincing. “Australia.”
“I thought Australians had mustaches,” said Rosie.
Sniper looked embarrassed, bowing his head down a bit. “Well, uh… that’s only people who live in th’ cities, really. And me mum’s English, so… yeah.” He shrugged.
“Oh,” said Rosie. “I see…”
“That’s yer daughter, then?” Demoman asked Engineer. “Pretty lil’ lass, she is.”
“Thanks,” said Engie. “Lissen, can I get ya anythin’ t’ drink at all?”
“Ye got any beer?” Demoman asked without missing a beat.
Engineer sighed. Some things just never changed. “I was hopin’ t’ save it fer later in th’ evening.”
“You should know better ‘n that,” said Sniper.
They walked inside the kitchen, and were greeted by an aging German shepherd, tail wagging steadily as it approached the visitors. The animal’s front right leg was replaced with a mechanical limb, the piston on it pumping with each step. It started barking, though not threateningly, and started to paw excitedly at Sniper’s pants leg and shove its nose into his crotch.
“Ah, Jesus Christ!” Sniper cried out, pulling the dog back by its collar.
“Sorry about that,” said Engineer, taking the dog by the collar. “Guess he recognized you.”
“Oh, I fergot ye had th’ Guard Dog livin’ with ye,” said Demoman, bending down to scratch the dog’s head. “He’s lookin’ pretty good.”
“His name is Bandit,” Rosie corrected. “I picked th’ name myself.”
“Why’d ya call ‘im ‘Bandit’?” Sniper asked.
“Because food had a habit a disappearin’ when he first got here,” Rosie replied. “That’s why.”
Engineer glanced outside to see that already, another car had arrived; a 1968 green, soft-top Mustang was now pulling up into the driveway. He excused himself from his guests before stepping outside to greet the newcomer. There, dressed in a white t-shirt, khaki shorts, work boots and a bucket hat, was the Soldier.
“Solly!” Engineer called out. “Good t’ see ya!”
“Don’t call me that anymore, Engie,” he warned. “The doctors told me that I’m not supposed to identify as a Soldier anymore. They say that it ‘fuels my delusions,’ or some crap like that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an orange pill bottle, unscrewed the cap and poured out a single pill.
“So, what should I call ya, then?” Engineer asked.
“Just call me by my given name,” Soldier replied. He popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed, and then shoved the bottle back into his pocket.
“An’ what would that be?”
Soldier pulled down the brim of his hat further over his eyes, hiding them in shadow. “Jane.”
“Jane?” Engineer asked. “Is that, uh, a masculine form a’ th’ name, or…?”
“No, Engineer, it’s not, it’s just Jane,” said Soldier. “My mother gave that name to me.”
“Oh,” said Engineer. “I see.”
“And don’t expect me to talk to you about it, either,” said Soldier. “The doctors make me have to talk about my feelings enough as is.”
“You know I ain’t one t’ pry,” said Engineer. “I want you t’ relax an’ have a good time here, I don’t wanna cause ya any undue stress.”
Soldier grumbled to himself, casting a sideways glance at Sniper’s camper van. “I see the hippie is already here.”
“He brought Demoman with him,” said Engineer. “Lissen, I don’t want you pickin’ any fights with nobody. I want this t’ be a nice reunion with th’ whole gang, an’ if you could mind yerself an’ stay on yer best behavior, I’d be very much obliged.”
“Fine,” said Soldier, starting to walk to the house. “I will try. But I am only doing this because I do not dislike you.”
“That’s all I ask,” said Engineer. As Soldier walked ahead of him, he noticed something sticking out of Soldier’s back pocket; something plastic and brightly colored. “What’s that in yer pocket, there, Sol-I mean, Jane?”
“Oh, this?” Soldier turned and looked at the object in question, and pulled it out. He held the plastic beach shovel in his palm. “Listen, don’t tell anybody, but…” he looked around nervously, making sure he wasn’t being watched. “It’s Shovel Jr.”
“Uh… don’t worry,” said Engineer. “I won’t tell nobody.”
“I knew you wouldn’t!” said Soldier, smiling for the first time since he got there. “Those quacks don’t like me carrying him around. Say that it’s too much like Shovel. He’s just a kid, Engie. He-”
“You don’t gotta explain nothin’,” said Engineer, already regretting asking in the first place. “Come on inside.” He clapped a hand onto Soldier’s shoulder, and led him inside.
“Solly!” Sniper said, lifting his head as Soldier stepped inside. “Jesus, mate, haven’t seen ya since our contract expired.”
“Don’t call me ‘Solly,’ dingo-bait!” Soldier snapped. Guard Dog lifted his head and wagged his tail as Soldier stepped forward, but was ignored. The dog whined and set his head back down between his paws.
“Right, sorry then, Soldier,” said Sniper, rolling his eyes as Rosie poured him another glass of sweet tea. “Thanks, luv.”
“It’s not ‘Soldier,’ either!” said Soldier. “I am no longer authorized to call myself as such.”
“Well, wot’re we s’posed tae call ye then?” asked Demoman, as he popped the cap off a bottle of Blue Streak. “We’re all goan’ by our class names. Jes’ like we used tae do.”
“Yeah, it’d be weird callin’ ya anythin’ else,” said Sniper.
“Jes’ call ‘im ‘Sir,’” said Engineer, quickly cutting off anything else Soldier may have said. “By th’ way, Sir, I’d like t’ introduce you to my lovely daughter, Rosalie.” He gestured to the girl, who nodded in acknowledgment.
“Pleased t’ make yer acquaintance, sir,” she said, curtsying a bit. “Can I pour ya a drink?”
“You got any coffee?” Soldier asked.
“Ain’t it a little late in th’ day fer coffee, Soldier?” asked Engineer.
“Aw, daddy, let ‘im be, I can get it fer him,” Rosie said. “Cream or sugar?”
“Black,” said Soldier, and, after a moment’s awkward hesitation, he added, “… Thanks.”
“Think nothin’ of it, sir,” the girl said, and went to retrieve the coffee grinds. Soldier continued to stand awkwardly, watching her with passing interest.
“You can sit down, ya know,” said Engineer. “Yer our guest.”
“Oh,” said Soldier. “Right.” He pulled out a chair, sitting at the same, round table that Sniper and Demoman were seated at, and finally took off his hat. He cleared his throat, and started to drum his fingers on the table’s surface. “So… any particular reason that the two of you are dressed like circus clowns?”
“Hey, hey, hey,” said Sniper, tugging his sleeves up. “I’ll have you know that this quite fashionable. Me old lady picked this shirt out for me.”
“Is she blind?” Soldier asked with a sneer. “Or is she just on drugs?”
“You best watch yer mouth, Yankee Doodle, ‘fore somebody watches it for ya,” Sniper said, his voice suddenly dipping into a low, threatening pitch.
“Oh, did I strike a nerve?” Soldier asked, grinning. “By the way, where is that hippie girlfriend of yours? I was hoping to meet her.”
“She’s… not here,” Sniper said. “She’s back home with me son.”
“Wait, what?” Soldier asked. “Since when did you have a son?”
“Since five years ago,” said Sniper, starting to sound more sheepish.
“And are you married?”
“… Moonchild doesn’t b’lieve in marriage,” Sniper mumbled, running a hand through his hair.
Soldier snorted. “You’re shacking up with a woman who calls herself ‘Moonchild,’ and you’ve sired a bastard son. What’d you name him? Treeflower?”
“… His name’s River,” Sniper said.
“Oh, ‘River!’” said Soldier. “That is not a name you give a goddamned child, that’s a body of water! Jesus Christ, you really have turned into a hippie, didn’t you?”
“Hey, now, take it easy Sol-Sir,” said Engineer, taking a seat at the table. “We’re tryin’ t’ have a good time here, I’d prefer it if ya dinnit’ try an’ stir up any conflict.”
Soldier murmured something under his breath and rested his hand on his chin. He gazed out the window, and watched as a red-orange 914 Porsche pulled up by the ranch outside. Engineer quickly noticed, and saw a familiar head poke out of the driver’s seat window, as the driver honked the horn a couple times. Demoman winced at the sound, and took another swig of his beer. Guard Dog sat up and started to bark.
“Oh, just peachy,” said Sniper. “Th’ lil’ gremlin’s arrived.”
Engineer didn’t hear the bushman. He hustled outside, and saw Scout step out of the vehicle. He looked older, but not that much older, though seeing him in a brown polyester suit with a garishly patterned, lime green shirt was a bit jarring. The passenger’s door opened as well, and out stepped a very pregnant woman, blond ringlets teased around her head, wearing a maternity dress and high heels, struggling not to fall over in them. A pair of pink-rimmed sunglasses covered her eyes, and she was obviously chewing a wad of gum, her jaw working like a cow’s would on cud.
“Hey, Hardhat!” Scout said, taking Engie by the hand and shaking it with vigor. “Ain’t seen you in forever, man, how you doin’?”
“Well enough, I s’pose,” said Engineer. “That yer wife?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Scout, wrapping an arm around the woman. “Engie, this is Bunny. Bunny, this is Engie. We used ta’ work together a long time ago.”
“Pleasure t’ meet you, ma’am,” said Engineer, offering his hand to the woman before him.
She regarded the outstretched hand, wrinkling her nose. She blew a bubble in her gum, and took Engineer’s hand, shaking it limply. The bubble popped, and she sucked the wad back into her mouth. “Charmed,” she said, smiling awkwardly.
“Oh hey, whose car is that?” Scout asked, jumping over to examine Soldier’s Mustang.
“That’s Solly’s,” said Engineer.
“Heh, looks like the kinda car he’d drive… aside from a Jeep or a tank or somethin’,” said Scout, he looked down at the Nixon ’72 campaign stickers plastered on the bumper. “Heh, yeah, definitely his car, all right.” He looked back up to Engie. “Say, where’s your ride, anyway? What do you drive, a Ford or somethin’? A Chevy? I know you got a pickup truck or somethin’.”
Engineer chuckled. “Well, it used t’ be a Ford,” said Engineer. “It’s a bit of a’ custom job, somethin’ that I worked on myself.”
“Oh yeah?” Scout asked. “Where d’ya keep it?”
“In th’ garage,” said Engineer. “You wanna see ‘er?”
“Sure,” said Scout, sounding excited at the prospect. His wife groaned and rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses, and went to work on blowing another bubble.
Engineer strode up to his garage, which was pretty much just a very large, wooden shed, separate from the house and in need of a paint job. As Engineer approached, a cannibalized level one sentry swiveled and beeped, and operated a pulley which swung the wooden doors to the garage open. There, sitting in the garage was something that looked more like a monster truck than a pickup. It was a veritable Frankenstein’s monster of a vehicle, made of so many spare parts from other cars, but assembled together with a mad sort of genius. Giant tires, an exposed, gleaming engine, a paint job complete with flames creeping up along the sides of the car… Engineer looked upon it, arms akimbo, beaming with pride as though he were looking upon one of his own children. Scout stared in slack-jawed awe, and finally managed to push up his chin to shut his own gaping mouth.
“Jesus, Engie, did you just go to a junkyard, swing the friggin’ crane magnet around, an’ just put shit together outta what you picked up, or what?” Scout asked.
“Not quite,” said Engineer. He approached the vehicle and put a hand on it, running over the body with a gentle touch. “Just some experimentation, really. There’s some fellers I talked to in Austin who are inta hotrods, an’ I kinda got interested in doin’ some a’ my own tinkering.”
“‘Experimentation,’ huh?” Scout asked. “Experimentation with what? Mescaline?”
“Naw, nothin’ like that,” said Engineer. “Jes’ boredom, I guess. Since our contract expired, an’ Irene… well, I’ve jes’ been… tryin’ t’ keep myself busy.” His mood went from cheerful to melancholy at the mere mention of his wife, and he found himself not even really looking at the truck anymore, but through it.
“It’s hot out here!” Bunny whined. “Jesus, can we go inside already?”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re comin’, gahd!” Scout hollered back. He turned to Engie, who didn’t seem to react to either of them. “Yo, hardhat, you okay?”
Engineer lifted his head, and gave Scout a soft smile. “Oh, I’m fine,” he said. “Don’t you worry about me. Sorry, I’m a rude host, leavin’ yer lady out here like this.”
“Nah, man… it’s cool,” said Scout. “Let’s just get inside, okay?”
“Okay,” said Engineer with a nod. They walked over to the house, Scout helping his wife maintain her balance as he complained about why she even had to wear those shoes, and as they approached they could hear a heated conversation through the screen windows, as Soldier’s voice drowned out everybody else’s inside.
“What I am saying is that the names of these movies you are working on are goddamned ridiculous!” Soldier said, as Engineer held the door open for Scout and his spouse, and guard dog got back up to greet the new visitors. “Don’t those words offend you at all?”
“Well, they’d offend me if you were usin’ ‘em!” said Demoman. “But if it’s another black man, there’s no problem wi’ it. Trust me, I learned this meself th’ first time I went inta New York.”
“Movies?” Scout asked, suddenly interested. “Who’s makin’ movies now?”
“Oh, hey there, lad!” said Demoman. “Have a seat! We’re jes’ talkin’ aboot me experience in makin’ films.”
“Who’s th’ sheila ya brought with ya, Scout?” Sniper asked, tilting his head to get a better look at Scout’s wife. Engineer pulled her out a chair from under the table, and gestured for her to have a seat.
“You can call me Bunny,” she said, sitting down carefully. “I’m his better half.”
“You want somethin’ t’ drink, ma’am?” Engineer asked.
“Yeah, sure. Wutter’s fine. Thanks, hon,” she said.
“Comin’ right up!” Engineer hurried to the cupboard to get her a fresh glass.
Soldier glanced at her protruding stomach, then to her hand, focusing on her wedding ring. “How long you been married?” He asked.
“Let’s see,” said Bunny, suddenly becoming much livelier. “Well, me an’… well, you all call ‘im Scout, we got married in ’72, but we met in ’71, see, when I was up in Boston vistin’ family of mine, when I ran inta this guy, yakkin’ away at a bar. ‘Course, I wasn’t there by myself, of course, my cousin Benny brought me in there, since he was always talkin’ about me tryin’ ta find a steady boyfriend an’ all, but he’s kinda an idiot, decides ta bring me in here with a bunch a drunk men, an’ I see this little cutie-” she cupped Scout’s face in her hand for emphasis, and looked into his eyes, “-yellin’ at the screen about how the Red Sox were so great an’ all, an’ they were up against the Orioles at the time, an’ you know, that’s my home team, an’ I’m feelin’ a lil’ tipsy, so I start arguin’ with this guy, an’ before you know it somehow he’s on the floor with a bloody nose an’ I punched him an’ right then an’ there he fell in love with me.”
“Well,” said Engineer, letting out a nervous little laugh as he came back from the sink and placed down the glass. “It sure seems like you two are a match made in Heaven, ain’t ya?”
“Or Hell,” Sniper muttered under his breath.
“At least they are actually married,” said Soldier. “Not like you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“I thought we agreed t’ not bring this up again,” Engineer said sternly.
Soldier crossed his arms and grumbled, leaning onto the table as Rosie brought him a cup of coffee. “Thanks, kid,” he said, and immediately started sipping it.
“So, Demoman,” said Scout, sitting down in a chair next to his wife as she spat out her gum into a napkin and started downing the glass of water, “I heard yer in the movie business, huh? You in Hollywood or what, pal?”
“No’ Hollywood, really,” said Demoman. “Most a’ th’ productions I’ve been involved in were either filmed in New York or in L.A., but they’ve all been low-budget fare. Personally, I think tha’ gives us a lot more freedom, really.”
“That’s because no major studio in their right mind would produce a movie called ‘Attack of the Blach Ness Monster,’” said Soldier, not even looking up from his coffee.
“Oh, aye, that wos a fun one,” said Demoman. “I was a consultant on that! Helped make changed tae th’ script, too! It’s funny, th’ writer on that one, lad by th’ name a’ Stew Jackson, said ‘e got th’ idea fer it after we met on th’ set a’ ‘Badass Niggers from Neptune,’ an’ I told ‘im about how I blew up me adoptive parents tryin’ tae kill th’ thing. It wos gonnae be more, ye know, true tae wot happened, but there were a lot a changes made by th’ director, but it turned out pretty good!”
“I got a walk-on role in it,” said Sniper said, sounding more than a bit proud of himself.
“Yeah, we got tae film back home in Scotland, even!” said Demoman excitedly. “‘Course, we weren’t allowed tae really film most a’ th’ big action scenes there, so we had tae go tae upstate New York fer filmin’ th’ scenes with th’ monster.”
“So, are you an actor, or what?” asked Bunny.
“Actor? Naw, nothin’ like tha’, miss,” said Demoman, shaking his head. “I wos in charge a’ th’ special effects… actually, I jes’ got called up whenever somebody wos makin’ a movie where they needed somethin’ blown up.”
“A pyrotechnician, then?” Rosie asked. Demoman hadn’t noticed her behind him, as she had snuck up behind him from his blind side, and he jumped a bit in surprise.
“Aye, that,” said Demoman. “Though, th’ title always felt a wee bit odd, ye know? Wot with Pyro an’ all…”
“Aw, man, Pyro,” said Scout, shaking his head. “Hey, Engie, is he comin’?”
“Well, Scout, I couldn’t seem t’ reach him by phone, an’ all he gave me when I saw him last was an address… I sent him a letter a while back about th’ git-together, an’ he never responded…” Engineer sighed. “So, I honestly don’t know.”
“Man,” said Scout. “Weird how none a’ us ever saw his face or nothin’. I mean, if he does show up, how’re we s’posed ta recognize him?”
“Maybe he’ll be wearin’ his old gasmask,” Sniper suggested.
“Maybe,” said Engineer, sounding a bit glummer.
“Daddy, there’s a van pullin’ up outside,” said Rosie, craning her neck to look out the window. Sure enough, a VW Type 2 had pulled up just in front of the driveway. Engineer stepped outside, curious as to who could possibly be arriving in a hippie bus. He nearly did a double take when the bus door opened and Medic stepped out, followed by Heavy.
“THANKS FOR RIDE!” Heavy boomed, waving at the other passengers in the van.
“No problem, man!” said a long-haired bearded man from inside, and flashed him a peace sign. “Peace, big guy!”
“PEACE FOR YOU AS VELL!” Heavy said, awkwardly returning the gesture. “GOOD BYE! HAVE SAFE TRAVELS!”
The van revved up and drove off, as Heavy continued to wave at them. Medic handed off the jacket that had been slung over his shoulder to Heavy, and dusted himself off, as if to rid himself of the presence of hippie. He straightened his tie and looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Engineer.
“Ah, Guten tag, Engineer!” he called out. “I hope ve have not arrived too late.”
“Naw, yer fine,” said Engineer. “Uh… were you not able t’ rent a car, or…?”
“Heavy zhought it vould be a good idea to save us some money und hitchhike instead,” said Medic. “But not very many people vere villing to take a large, imposing looking man viz ein Russian accent anyvhere, except zose… ach.”
“Hippies?” Engineer said with a chuckle. “Figures.”
“Zey’re like gypsies!” said Medic. “Only zey did not steal anyzing from us. I vould not let zem.”
“They are not so bad!” said Heavy. He, too, was wearing a suit like Medic, though his sleeves were rolled up and his tie was missing, folded over his arm along with his jacket. “Are very nice people! Do not call me names or anyting.”
“Ach,” said Medic. “My clothes ah going to smell like marijuana smoke.”
“You weren’t… tokin’ up in there, were ya?” Engineer asked cautiously.
“Of course ve veren’t!” said Medic, offended at the mere suggestion.
“Do you have anyting to eat, Engineer?” Heavy asked. “Am suddenly feeling very hungry.”
“We hadn’t started in dinner yet,” said Engineer. “I was goin’ t’ have a barbeque later this evening. Haven’t done one in a while, actually, an’ well, this bein’ a special occasion an’ all, I thought I might finally be able t’ treat ya to a little southern hospitality.”
“Zank you, Engineer,” Medic said with a weary sigh. “It vas such a hassle getting into zis country. I’m almost entirely sure it vas because ze people at ze airport vanted to make it as difficult for Heavy to get into ze states as possible.”
“They tink I am spy,” Heavy said with a dry chuckle. “I tell them, spy vould not be so obvious. Then they keep us there for hours asking questions.”
“Sounds like quite an ordeal,” said Engineer, as he herded the two men towards the house. “I bet yer exhausted.”
“Ja,” said Medic. “Is everyvone else here?”
“We’re still missin’ Spy an’ Pyro,” said Engineer. “At this point, I ain’t even sure if they’re gonna show up.”
“It vould be shame if they did not,” said Heavy, as Engineer opened the screen door. Guard Dog got back up from the ground again, this time his tail wagging excitedly as Heavy came in. “Guard Dog!”
The dog recognized the title, and romped over past Medic and jumped onto the large Russian man, as Heavy bent down to pet him. Heavy’s face was soon covered in sloppy dog kisses, and his booming laughter filled the kitchen.
“We call ‘im Bandit nowadays,” Engineer said.
“Bah!” said Heavy. “He vill alvays be Guard Dog to me.”
“Oh, hey, Doc! Heavy!” Scout called out. “How was yer trip?”
“Excruciating,” said Medic. “Who is zat viz you?” He looked to Scout’s wife with a cocked eyebrow.
“I’m Bunny,” she said, chewing a new wad gum with an open mouth. “I got hitched to yer Scout here.”
“I see,” Medic said, trying to mask his disgust. He gave her a polite bow regardless, and she grinned. The doctor’s eyes wandered away from her and over towards Demoman, who was looking expectantly at the German. “… Herr Demoman.”
“Medic,” said Demoman, his tone grim.
“How is Ilse doing?” Medic asked.
“She’s fine,” said Demoman.
“I notice you did not bring her viz you,” said Medic. His voice was flat, almost monotone, as though he were actively trying to suppress any hint of emotion.
“She dinnit’ wannae come,” said Demoman.
“Zat’s understandable,” said Medic. “As long as she is in good healzh, und is happy… I am glad.”
“Yeah,” said Demoman, nodding. “Been takin’ good care a’ her.”
“Sehr gut,” said Medic. “Danke, Demoman.”
The corner of Demoman’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Think nothin’ o’ it,” he said.
“Why doncha’ have a seat?” Engineer offered. “We can all catch up. It’s been so long since we’ve all been together…”
“Zank you, Engineer,” said Medic, taking a seat around the table. Heavy looked up from petting the dog and joined him at the table, which was now becoming a bit crowded. Medic found himself close to the Soldier, who examined him as one might examine a large, hairy insect.
“Friends of yours?” Soldier asked.
“Excuse me?” asked Medic.
“That van full of hippies you rolled in with,” said Soldier. “Don’t act like you’d think I wouldn’t notice.”
“Nice to see you again, too,” Medic said sarcastically. “I heard zat you vere in a mental hospital for two years after your contract expired. Vhat vas zat about, I vonder?”
Soldier glared at Medic, and his hands flexed into tense fists. He reached into his pocket and took out his pill bottle, unscrewing the cap under the table as his gaze never left the German’s face. “That particular information is classified, Doktor,” he said with a sneer. “You really shouldn’t stick your nose in other people’s business.”
“Zat’s funny, coming from you,” said Medic. “You alvays made it a point to stick your nose in Heavy und I’s business.”
The muscles around Soldier’s left eye gave a spastic twitch, as he dumped out another pill and popped it into his mouth. He washed it down with a swig of coffee, seemingly impervious to scalding his throat. “That was different,” said Soldier. “You were violating contract and yet you somehow managed to not get your fairy asses fired.”
“Vatch vhat you say,” Heavy warned. “Doktor and I did not come such long vay only to be called names by tiny man.”
“You sure you fellas are friends?” Bunny asked, laughing a bit as she said so. “Ya sound ready to rip each other’s heads off.”
“Eh, they’re always like this,” said Scout. “Actually, I think they’ve mellowed out a bit.”
“Well, I don’t know about everybody else, but Demo an’ I ain’t done any uh… work since our contract expired,” said Sniper. “After th’ war, I went on a trip across th’ states. I ended up pickin’ up a bunch a’ hitchhikin’ hippies set fer Woodstock, an’ hell, lot a really good bands playin’ there, I figured I might as well stick around. That’s how I met me girlfriend.” He smiled. “We lived on th’ road fer a bit before we ran inta Demo again in New Mexico.”
“Me mum, God rest ‘er soul, ‘ad jes’ passed,” Demoman said solemnly. “I wos a wreck. Ilse, bless ‘er, did her best tae try an’ help me out, but me drinkin’ got worse n’ usual. Sniper nearly hit me with ‘is car while I was staggerin’ outta a bar.”
“Small world,” said Sniper, smiling a bit.
“Aye,” said Demoman. “So, Sniper, after a while, suggests we come with ‘im fer th’ rest a’ his trip, says he’s goin’ tae California. Ilse weren’t interested, but she says it’d be good fer me tae not be mopin’ around th’ house, so I went with ‘im. So, we mucked around Los Angeles fer a bit, an’ I swear, every brother I came across wos wiggin’ out over me accent. I wos somethin’ of a novelty, I s’pose. Eventually, Sniper an’ I are gettin’ around in bars, Sniper usually bein’ th’ only white man in th’ place, an’ I meet up with a man named Jackson Jones, says he’s inta films. He wanted me tae do a cameo, I guess. Later, I tell ‘im I’m good with explosives, an’ suddenly this movie has more explosions in it than wos originally intended.” Demoman chuckled. “Actually ended up getting’ re-written inta ‘Bombsquad Brothers,’ an’ before I know it, I’m gettin’ a lot more jobs in films.”
“As fer me,” said Sniper, “I eventually settled, but I’m retired from me old job. I knew when I met Moonchild, she wasn’t exactly gonna be supportive of it. We got enough money from my tenure at RED that I don’t really have t’ work anymore, an’ Demoman jes’ keeps workin’ so he can stay busy. Anyways, she got pregnant back in ’70, but she dinnit’ want t’ git married, since she doesn’t b’lieve in it as an institution, so we’ve been raisin’ our son together in New Mexico. We live close by Demo, actually.”
“Sounds like you two are doin’ well fer yerselves,” said Engineer.
“… Fer th’ most part, yeah,” said Sniper. “How ‘bout th’ rest a’ you?”
“Oh, man, I ain’t never been better!” said Scout. “Soon as my contract ended, I went back home an’ bought my ma a nice, big house. I tried ta get inta baseball fer a while, but I ended up bustin’ up my shin real bad in a skiin’ accident, an’ I never made it past the friggin’ minor leagues. So, shit, I got bored, an’ on a whim, I decide, fuck it, I like cars, right? I got enough money, so I start up a business sellin’ used cars.”
“A used car salesman,” said Sniper. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Shut up, man, I’m not like those friggin’ weasels that try an’ pass off lemons as good cars, all right?” said Scout, his tone defensive. “I put some friggin’ care inta this shit. I got th’ best used cars in all a’ Boston, all right?” He turned to Heavy and Medic. “I couldn’t help but notice the two a’ you ain’t got a car.”
“Ve do not need car,” said Heavy. “Ve have moped.”
“Oh man, that’s gotta be hilarious,” Scout chuckled. “Big guy like you ridin’ freakin’ moped! What, you got Doc holdin’ onta’ you from behind, or what?”
“Is other vay around,” said Heavy, as Medic groaned and planted his face into his hand.
Scout laughed at the thought. “Oh fuck, you gotta be kiddin’ me!” he said. “You got pictures a’ this? I gotta see this for myself.”
“Nein,” said Medic. “Besides, ve ah not interested in eizzah your insults or your sales pitch. Ve ah living in Venice, now, und owning a car vould simply be impractical.”
“Venice?” said Bunny with interest. “Ohhh, I’ve never been to Venice! I wanna go to Venice someday, Hon!” She turned to Scout and shook his shoulder. “We should go there someday, visit yer friends there!”
“Is nice there,” said Heavy. “Doktor and I have been very happy together. Ve have dog named Nikita, and Doktor still raises birds. Doktor now has practice.”
“RED vas very helpful in giving me a new identity so zat I may be a legitimate doctor again,” said Medic. “Zhough, I no longah do surgeries. A shame, really.”
“Wot kind a medicine are ya practicin’, then?” Sniper asked.
“I’m a pediatrician,” said Medic flatly.
Sniper, Demoman and Scout simultaneously burst out into laughter, and Soldier merely recoiled in dumb shock. Engineer, Rosie and Bunny seemed to have little reaction at all,and just looked between each other anxiously. Sniper finally caught his breath and noticed that Medic was completely straight faced, eyed narrowed and his mouth in a thin, taut line. Heavy just looked confused by the reaction of the others.
“… Yer serious,” said Sniper.
“I nevah gave any indication I vas joking, Herr Sniper,” said Medic.
“Doc, no offense, but I’m bettin’ that you probably scare those little kids shitless,” said Scout.
“Heavy suggested it,” said Medic. “He is quite fond of children und vanted to see if I could get bettah viz zem.”
“… An’ how long have ye been doin’ this?” Demoman asked.
“Four years now,” said Medic. “I seem to have developed a good reputation.”
“Is shame,” said Heavy. “I keep saying, it vould be nice, to have leetle child around.”
“Oh, right,” said Soldier. “What, would the kid have two fathers then? I’m sure they’ll turn out great. And by ‘great,’ I mean you will have converted them to being a queer just like yourselves!”
“Sir, hush,” said Engineer. “If you can’t control yourself, you can always go out for a walk until you’ve cooled down.”
“Jesus, would you listen to yourself?” asked Soldier. “You sound like my goddamned doctors!”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” said Engineer.
Soldier crossed his arms and harrumphed, slouching over the table like a pouting child. “Fine,” he conceded.
“Zank you, Engineer,” said Medic.
“So, Solly, what’ve you been up to?” asked Scout.
“Firstly, don’t call me ‘Solly’ or ‘Soldier’ anymore,” said Soldier. “Second, I’m unemployed. I can’t get hired. Not with my medical history, apparently. I still have money from RED, but with the doctors checking in on me every week, I can’t really do anything I want to.”
“Aren’t you livin’ on your own, finally?” Engineer asked.
“Ha!” laughed Soldier. It was a cold, hoarse, mirthless sound. “Only technically. The doctors make me write things down in a goddamned diary like I was a sissy little girl, since they want to keep track of my ‘progress.’ And what do they do after I write down things like thoughts and feelings in there? They go and read it! I’m sorry, I was under the impression that diaries aren’t supposed to be read by other people! They barge into my house every week, ask me a bunch of questions, give me more pills and invade my privacy, all in the name of making sure I’m not ‘a danger to myself and others.’ Can you believe that?”
“Well, at least they consider you well enough that yer not in the hospital no more,” Engineer said. “It was downright heartbreaking t’ hear that you got carted away there. Why, they were makin’ it sound like you’d never get out, an’ you’ve proved yer well enough t’ have yer own apartment an’ everything!”
“That doesn’t amount to diddly-squat,” Soldier scoffed. “I can’t get a real job, and the only ones I qualify for could be done by retards and mental defectives! I refuse to stoop down to that! I have my pride!”
“So I’ve noticed,” said Medic.
Engineer sighed. Trying to make Soldier and Medic get along was an exercise in futility, not unlike shutting a cobra and a mongoose in box and hoping they would make friends. He turned to notice Rosie, standing quietly against the wall, hands behind her back, listening intently to the conversation at the table. He motioned for her to come over, and his waving hand caught her eye. She walked over towards her father, who led her into the living room.
“You doin’ okay, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Daddy, I’m fine,” she said. “I’m jus’ listenin’.”
“You jus’ seem so quiet,” he said. “They’re not… frightenin’ ya or anythin’, are they?”
Rosie averted her father’s eyes, and one of her hands crept up to her hair, and she started to twirl one of her locks around her finger as she bit her lip. “Well…”
“Look, they ain’t that scary,” he said. “They’re jes’ rowdy. That was part a’ our job description, t’ be rowdy. They ain’t bad people r’ nothin’. I wouldn’t a’ invited ‘em if they were.”
“They’re kinda intimidatin’,” Rosie admitted. “Specially th’ one you call ‘Sir.’”
“Well, I ain’t allowed t’ call ‘im ‘Soldier,’ no more,” Engineer said.
“Why can’t you call each other by yer real names?” asked Rosie.
“Well… we could,” said Engineer. “It’s jus’, we weren’t allowed while we were workin’ fer RED, fer some reason, an’ callin’ each other by anything else… jus’ don’t feel right.” He shrugged. “They’re like nicknames, really.”
“Yeah, ‘Sniper’ sure is a funny nickname,” Rosie said flatly, rubbing her arm.
“Jus’ try an’ talk to ‘em a bit,” said Engineer. “Yer such a sweet, smart girl, I think they’d enjoy talkin’ with ya, if ya gave ‘em a chance.”
Rosie sighed. “All right,” she conceded. “I’ll do it.” She looked out the window, and froze as something caught her eye. “Who’s that?”
Engineer followed her gaze and saw a man standing outside, in the middle of the dirt road that went past their house. The figure was tall and slim, and the smoke coming from their face seemed to indicate just who it was that was out there.
“Wait here, pumpkin,” said Engineer, and kissed his daughter on the forehead. He went back into the kitchen and out the screen door, walking out to the man standing outside. As he approached, the man looked at him indifferently, flicking a spent cigarette to the ground. His face was thin and pointed, and his dark hair was slicked back over his scalp, cut close to his head. He looked at the Engineer with half-lidded eyes, and blew one last plume of smoke from his mouth before the Texan finally spoke.
“I do believe this is th’ first time I’ve ever seen you without yer mask,” said Engineer.
“So it is,” said the man. “And yet, you recognized me right away, didn’t you?”
Engineer smiled, and shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. “Hard not to,” he said. “Would you like to come inside, Spah?”
“Not yet,” said Spy. “We have much to talk about.”