Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

February 10, 1973

Ms. Pauling was listening to the radio while she and Zhanna drove along Route 66 towards the town of Tuefort.  It was after dinner time, and Miss Pauling had decided to pick up some necessary supplies. The usual cargo shipments had been delayed after the train broke down and all the trucking companies were extremely busy with unending deliveries to fulfill.

It would be a week before they’d actually get their much-needed necessities in – toilet paper, anti-fungal toe and hemorrhoid cream being top priority. Maybe another medical kit. Luckily, they had an ample supply of food for two weeks. A new threat was on the rise, after various news reports revealed more left-over hordes of Gray Mann's robots. Now both teams just had to clean up the rest of the mess left behind by the previous waves a year and a half before.

With most of the military still occupied with Vietnam and their counterpart reserves barely holding the latest attack back, more help was always welcomed. Aside from that dilemma, Miss Pauling even heard these robots didn't bleed money when they were destroyed. No exorbitant tips then for her or the mercenaries. Disappointing. Their primary objective though would be to destroy the remnants up in Bismark and Toronto. They had overpowered and occupied those towns, the civilians being trapped inside like caged rats. So everyone was preparing to fight.

Zhanna had arrived yesterday to visit Soldier at the base. She and Heavy had been helping the rest of his family settle down in Florida. She decided to come along with Miss Pauling to help out and explore Tuefort for a bit. Hopefully participate in the battle. Of course, the purple-clad assistant was mindful on which areas to avoid – the eastern side of town seemed much safer with more sane people. Their water wasn’t contaminated either…atleast, she hoped that was still the case.

The next segment on the radio caught Miss Pauling’s attention.

“We interrupt this bulletin to bring you some bloody disgusting news. Apparently, the cougar duo mutants tore another family apart, this time in Bloomfield. All five members were eaten, just like the last two unfortunate families. The only thing left was a shoe and a couple of gold teeth. Apparently, the kitties aren’t interested in pawning precious metals on the open market.”

A bit of shuffling could be heard as the announcer leaned away from the microphone. “Ha-ha, told you I’d win the bet, Shane! One of the victims wore a Keds brand. That garbage shoe is all over the place. Wish the fad would die out—“ Another pause, then a chided whisper from another associate. “Oh, pardon me.” He then perked up in his professional voice.

“The Marshalls and state police warn everyone to stay inside your homes and don’t go out until both have been apprehended or are dead. This goes for your chickens, cows, and pigs…well, maybe leave a pig out or two. A sure-fire way to let you know the feline hellspawns are in your yard is with Porky squealing in the throes of murder…”

“A $10,000 reward will be given to the first one that kills them. This doesn’t include running them over or poisoning them with a bait trap. Also… *pause* huh, Erica? Oh yeah, if you have kids around, make sure they covered their ears during this broadcast.” The announcer’s voice then changed to a more cheery, excited tone. “And now the latest scores on the Dodgers vs. Mets game!”

Ms. Pauling sighed. Clearly the radio host was an idiot for not issuing the discreet warning for the younger audiences before the news broadcast. Well, this just made her day a little more depressing – innocent people died at the hands of two ravenous, bloodthirsty cougar monsters.

It’s not like they were bad people that needed to be eliminated. They were just happy families minding their own business and to spend their last moments being ripped to shreds and chewed up alive…

“Hey Miss Pauling,” Zhanna interrupted her musings, as she rested an arm out the window, the cool wind blowing up her dark tresses. “How come I don’t see your baby girlfriend anymore? Did you two break up?”

The other woman stiffened. What business of hers was--

Ms. Pauling cleared her throat, deciding to come clean on the matter. “Zhanna, that was actually…Scout.”

“Hmm?” now the Russian looked puzzled.

“It’s a long story…”

“Scout is really girl?”

“No, no…”

“So you are not lesbian?”

The brunette balked. “I—uh, nooo. You see, um, it was…” Another pause.  “…a literal act of magic. Zhanna, you probably don't believe wizards are real...”

A Few Days Earlier.

Apparently, Soldier had managed to royally piss off Merasmus again – this time to the point where the cantankerous old geezer was hellbent on dealing a personal vendetta against the American bane of his existence.

But it had backfired when Merasmus shot the spell from his sorcerer’s staff and it ended up bouncing off Soldier’s helmet, hitting Scout instead. How was that even possible that his helmet could deflect something as notoriously powerful as a ray of magic?

Miss Pauling gave up long ago figuring it out, given one had to suspend their disbelief at the weird and wacky phenomena going on in the job. Merasmus only had enough resources for one insidious spellcast. So, he swore vengeance at the team with one of his usual dramatic tirades, before vanishing in a twirl of smoky haze and green light. So far, he hadn’t returned.

Poor Scout though…he was now rendered a female, all anatomically correct parts included. It would have been the worst humiliation for Soldier had the spell struck him, being the manliest of the nine mercenaries.

A few hours later, after the spell gone wrong…

"Oh Jeremy, don’t worry. We’ll find a way to change you back,” Miss Pauling reassured.

Scout looked up from burying his now softer, feminine face in his hands. “But Francine, this is a freakin’ nightmare! How am I gonna face the others?”

“Well…it’s not like Merasmus turned you into a blobfish or the Wicket Witch of The West. I mean, being a woman’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

“Sox is gonna reject me, I know it.”

Miss Pauling remembered his pet Cardinal. A silly bird who was sweet with everyone, even the worst of the lot on the team; but he always came back to Scout.

“Oh come on, if he’s truly your friend, he’ll look past the boobs and um…the other girl parts below your belt line.”

Scout continued sulking.

“And…I look past it. I still love you, you foul-mouthed, bat-bashing scrapper.”

Now the Bostonian’s eyes lit up, a spark of hope in them…and flattery.

“You really mean that, sweetie?”

She firmly put her hands on his – her - shoulders, resolute. “You’re still Scout, no matter what gender.”

Before she could stop herself, she smacked her luscious lips against his/her own. Scout’s eyes widened in surprise, but a second later, he melted into the languid kiss.

Then Zhanna barged in.

“Miss Pauling, have you seen my Jane---“

She paused at the scene, as both Scout and Miss Pauling’s eyes shifted over to her while still locked in the kiss.

“Eahh!” both of them squeaked, pulling apart from each other.

“Oh, you are with female lover. Now I know why you do not flirt with other baby men here.”

Miss Pauling and Scout were mortified. Jeez, didn’t this beast of a woman know how to knock?

“Sorry to disturb your mating time, I will return later.” She quickly left before Pauling could tell her that wasn’t the case.

“...And so, that’s why you saw me kissing a girl,” Miss Pauling finished.

“Hmm, so wizard is after my love,” Zhanna mused, eyes furrowed together. “Jane told me about him. He sound like bad news. Is obvious the old durak does not appreciate the greatest roommate in the world.”

Miss Pauling shuddered a bit at hearing that. Soldier was the opposite - who could live with such a loud, delusional moron that killed on a whim and thought he was in a war all the time? It’s amazing how the other team members put up with him. Even if they themselves had bloodthirsty streaks.

“We just have to find a way to get Merasmus to change Scout back.” Miss Pauling was determined.

“What if my brother and I hold him down, while Jane threaten to shoot rocket up his ass?”

“Uhh, it really doesn’t work that way. You know, he’s got that whole ‘powerful wizard and dark magic’ thing going on…”

Just then, a small dot appeared on the horizon of the setting sun. As it drew closer, both could make out a tuft of red hair, adorned in two pig tails and shrill cries emanating from it.

“A teeny tiny baby girl,” Zhanna observed.

Ms. Pauling slowed down the car, growing concerned when the little girl wouldn’t stop screaming. In the distance, two other vague forms materialized. Pulling the vehicle over to the side of the road, she squinted her eyes, habitually pushing her glasses up a little more.

Amidst the incoherent screaming, she made out one word. “HELP!”

She stepped out of the Ford Falcon, as the girl ran toward her, arms wildly flailing. Frantically escaping what was behind her…

“Oh!”

It was the mutant cougars. Great…not what she was anticipating as part of shopping today.

“Help me, pretty purple lady!” the girl cried, crashing into Miss Pauling’s demure figure and hugging her tightly. “They’re after me!”

The fight-or-flight response seized the assistant, her heart beat speeding up faster to the abject terror before all three. The girl started sobbing, so Pauling reached for her concealed pistol, pulling it out.

Okay, you got this!

The ravenous cougars seemed to grin sadistically, drool dripping down their fearsome maws that no doubt chewed through human bone and flesh several hours earlier. Even their eyes gleamed of pure evil.

“Go, get behind me,” she ordered the girl, who did as instructed while Zhanna was stepping out of the car.

<Click!>

Nothing. The pistol was empty.

“What?!” Pauling was baffled. She pulled the trigger again. Still, no crack of a bullet. Hadn’t she re-loaded the gun before leaving the base? “You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

She froze, realizing her mistake in front of the girl.

“Uh, I mean, you gotta be fudging kidding me.”

As both horrid creatures continued barreling right towards them, Zhanna brazenly lunged forward. Just as one of them was about to leap on Miss Pauling, she caught it by the scruff of its neck.

“So, you’re the ones who been killing families?” she demanded.

She then trapped the mutant feline in a wrestle hug, its lithe body furiously struggling against her hefty arms. With the most malicious snarl that Pauling ever heard, Zhanna brought the body down on her thigh, incapacitating it at the moment. The feline mutant’s legs were weekly flailing, though one of its swiping paws slashed her across right cheek. She let out an indignant cry from the acute pain. Blood began seeping down from three gash wounds.

She then brought a bent elbow down on its stomach, and with gritted teeth, finished it off with a twist of its neck.

“Huttah!”

It was finally dead. Pauling could only gawk at the sight as Zhanna callously tossed the body aside. The other cougar mutant let out a raucous screech, and leapt at the Russian. Its unusually long talons were outstretched, primed for drawing more blood.

With a swift duck of her torso, the cougar ended up flying right over her. It crashed into the side of the car, putting a large, sizable dent in the passenger door;  its head struck hard enough to disorient it.

“Just great, the Administrator is going to kill me for that,” Pauling groaned. The little girl whimpered, clutching one of her legs. She turned to pat the kid’s head. “Uhhh, there, there now. As long as the cougar doesn’t come after us instead of the more tastier entrée over there—“ she pointed to Zhanna “--I think we’re on safe base.”

She looked up to see Zhanna taking advantage of the cougar’s vulnerability from the blow to its head, grabbing it by its tail.

“Monster kitty in for a whole lot of pain,” she sneered.

She slammed the hapless cougar into the road several times, causing crack marks to appear on the concrete. Pauling had to look away as it became more brutal, bones breaking and blood smearing the ground.

When she opened her eyes, Zhanna was heaving out of breath and the last cougar lay dead, reduced to a bloody carcass.

“The families have been avenged.”

Well, atleast she had some honor like her brother. She then turned to the little girl, stoically asking, “Are you alright?”

The kid’s eyes went wide and clutched Miss Pauling’s leg even tighter. “Please, pretty purple lady! Save me from the big scary lady!”

Miss Pauling could only smile wearily at Zhanna, her arms bent in a shrugging gesture. Her eyes then panned over to the two slaughtered cat beasts. “Well, looks like you got yourself $10,000."

With much patience, Pauling managed to pry the girl off her leg; though not without leaving an imprinted bruise of a small body outline and radiating soreness. Afterwards, she treated Zhanna wounds with a first aid kit (as she didn’t have any health packs at the moment). They then loaded the remains of the two cougars in the trunk, making sure the more mutilated one covered the other to avoid staining the interior with blood.

They continued on their way to Tuefort, except the little girl refused to get in the car; she was still freaked out over Zhanna’s display of unbridled violence.

“Look kid, she’s not so bad once you get to know her,” Miss Pauling tried to convince her.

“She’s going to break me in half!”

A sigh, before an idea came to mind. She pulled out some Starburst candy. “How about I give you this if you go in the backseat?”

“Yay! Let’s go!”

The kid happily snatched the candy, hopping inside the vehicle. All seat belts were buckled in place and soon they were back on the road.

“So kid, what’s your name?” Pauling asked.

“Carly,” the girl answered in between candy chews.

Zhanna leaned over to Pauling and said in hush-hush tone, “You do realize you bribed child like kidnappers do to get them inside car?”

“How else was I going to get her in? Put her in a sack and toss it in the backseat?” She titled her head up, looking quite smug. “Besides, nothing wrong with using a questionable tactic for non-criminal purposes.”

“Pretty purple lady, I have to go pee!” Carly announced.

“We should be nearing a gas station soon. You can go there. Also, I have a name, you know.”

“What’s your name then?”

 “Miss Pauling.”

“Oh. Are you a teacher?”

“No.”

“Then why are you called that?”

“It’s just for formality reasons. People usually call me that.”

“What’s your first name?”

She paused, mulling over it. Oh well, no harm in disclosing it to a kid. It’s not like she knew the kind of shady work the assistant was involved in and would run off to spill the beans to local law enforcement.

“It’s Francine.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks.” Miss Pauling felt pleased by the compliment, as she never really found her name so appealing. She wished her mother had named her Rachel.

“What is scary mean lady’s name?” Carly then inquired.

Zhanna let out an irritated huff. “I’m right here if you want to know.”

Carly cowered further in the seat.

“Go on, ask her,” Miss Pauling encouraged. “I promise she won’t bite.”

“O..okay, uh…do you have name?” Carly squeaked.

“Yes, I am Zhanna,” came the unimpressed reply.

“Wow, that’s more awesome than Francine!”

Now Zhanna's mood shifted, as it was her turn to look smug. “Why, thank you.”

Miss Pauling felt her ego deflate a bit, but nonetheless, chose to ignore it at the moment.

 “So Carly, what happened? Where’s your family?”

“Well, we were moving to Bloomington,” the girl explained. “I was riding on the back of the moving truck. It was full of the living room furniture. I love sitting on the couch. Then the truck hit a bump, the doors opened and I fell off.”

“Is anything hurting at all?” Carly didn’t look noticeably injured, as far as the assistant was concerned.

“No, I landed on a pile of succulents. I just feel a bit sore.”

“The back doors to truck were not locked?” Zhanna spoke up.

Carly shrugged. “I thought they were, but my parents were in such a hurry. Maybe they forgot. Anyhow, I tried yelling for my parents and jerkwad--I mean, my brother. But the car was too fast. So I ran down the road, screaming and screaming but no one heard me. Then I took a nap under a tree for awhile. That’s when the evil big cats came out from behind a boulder and started chasing me.”

“Whoo boy,” Miss Pauling glanced at her watch. “Looks like you had quite a day. Well, we’re heading to Teufort, so we can drop you off at the police station. They should be able to locate your family."

After depositing Carly at the local station and collecting the reward money, the two women went to pick up a few supplies at a Gemco store. It was a pretty calm Saturday, save for several lively dance clubs and bars in full swing. The local theater also had several lines of eager moviegoers.

Miss Pauling read the theater sign listing films playing: Walking Tall, The Cheerleaders, and films from previous years, Joel Kidd and Manos: Hands of Fate. Maybe she and Scout could go on a date here, if he’s up for watching the latter. Miss Pauling knew an awful Z-movie when she saw one and couldn’t pass it up. It was guaranteed to be scummy entertainment.

Afterwards, both women decided to check out one of the bars for a bit. Zhanna had insisted on going in, though it wasn’t Miss Pauling’s type of place to hang out.

“Come on, let’s get drink.”

“Do we have to?” Miss Pauline whined. “This place probably has crappy Mimosas.”

“Let’s find out.”

Zhanna then grabbed her hand and yanked her through the entrance door.

“Hey easy now, I can help myself in!” she protested, fixing her glasses for the umpteenth time as she was pulled along.

Once inside the bar, she was met with the smell of alcohol and meat grilling from a food booth opposite the main entrance. A typical bar stood at one end of the room, patrons hanging off the ends. Some were loud and boisterous, while others were glued to a TV in the corner with a football game showing.

There was a nice medium-sized dance floor, with a few go-go girls performing to “Proud Mary.” Several leather couches and round tables dotted either wide of the dance floor. A small disco ball hung overhead.

Zhanna finally let go of her, planting herself on a seat at the bar. Miss Pauling reluctantly took the seat next to her, tenderly rubbing her wrist from the vice-like grip.

“Okay, so we’re here,” Miss Pauling stated. “But we can’t stay long. We have to get back before 9 PM. Otherwise, I’m going to miss All In The Family.”

“Is it silly show with wife that has irritating voice?”

“Huh? Edith Bunker?”

“Da.”

“Yeah. But her voice doesn’t bother me. It’s just the way she sounds.”

“She sound like animal noise. Like baby calf that got punched in the balls.”

Miss Pauling frowned at that, while Zhanna turned to get the bartender’s attention. Well, different people, different perspectives, she supposed.

Chapter Text

While Miss Pauling and Zhanna were getting their drinks, three young women stepped inside the bar. From the uncanny resemblance between all of them, one could mistake them for triplets. They each wore fitted baseball caps with dirty blonde ponytails sticking out the back opening, as well as similar outfits, each a distinctive color. Though, they partly covered by gray sweat jackets, probably to keep warm from the New Mexican winter outside.

One of the girls was dressed in a somewhat red and racy top with a maroon skirt. Her blue eyes widened when she spotted an attractive guy sitting at the bar’s end and made a beeline towards him.

The second girl was dressed in a white polo top and a dark gray skirt. A pair of yellow-rimmed shades hid her eyes. She sighed and shook her head when the first girl went up to the bar patron. The third girl, wearing black with neon orange lines accenting the seams, seemed annoyed.

“Remind me again, Iris,” she deadpanned. “Just why exactly did we have to bring her along?”

Iris sighed. “I’ll admit, Cyborscout, not exactly a genius move…but she’s the only one that can sense where he is.”

“So he just ran into this bar without anyone seeing him??”

“That or she’s looking for some hanky panky again.”

Cyborscout groaned, putting a hand to her forehead. “Why do I even—?”

“For now, let’s just buy some drinks and see if she spots him. Think of her as a mouse catcher.”

“If she doesn’t get distracted first. It’s a good thing Cyborneer fixed her with that device, otherwise this whole place would be an orgy fest!” She scoffed in disgust. “I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten a venereal disease at this point.”

Both women just hoped this dimension they entered was safe and that no one was suspicious of their mysterious origins. They made their way towards the bar, taking the seats next to Miss Pauling. She was nursing a hard cider drink, while Zhanna had ordered a Mojito with a bowl of corn chips.

“Bartender, give me a spritz,” Cyborscout requested, placing a few dollars down. She hoped they had the right currency in this specific place and time period.

A lanky man eyed them for a moment, noticing their unusual attire. “You girls part of a softball team?”

Cyborscout sweatdropped. “Uhh…you could say that.”

“We’re a minor league one,” Iris threw in. “The Scout Gals.”

The bartender frowned. “Never heard of them.”

He placed the spritz drink down, taking the cash. “Hey hon, you overpaid. Here’s ten dollars back.”

"Oh...thanks." Cyberscout took the money. Her voice caught Miss Pauling's attention and she spared a glance at her. Upon studying the newcomer’s face, there was a niggling feeling of intrigue. She looked vaguely familiar. Her friend did as well, despite the sunglasses hiding her eyes.

Pauling couldn’t help but ask, “Hey, you guys from around here?”

Cyborscout paused in her drink. “Um...sorta. We’re from out of town.”

Miss Pauling nodded, feeling the effects of the alcohol getting to her. She just hoped she could drive back to the base without zig-zagging all over the road.

“You look like someone I know…” she observed, squinting at them.

Cyborscout let out a short, nervous laugh. “Yeah, we get that a lot. Must be a long-lost twin ‘sister.’”

Despite getting strange vibes, she decided to introduce herself. “Well, I’m Miss Pauling. And this here is…” She paused. “My friend, Zhanna.”

The Russian gave a curt nod. She too noticed their eerie resemblance to one of the mercenaries. Maybe they were relatives?

“I’m Cyborscout.”

“And I’m Iris,” the girl in white greeted.

Miss Pauling smiled amiably. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Is that other friend?” Zhanna asked, pointing at the girl in red. She was now gabbing away and batting her eyes suggestively at the cute guy. In all honesty, it looked like he wanted to be somewhere else.

“Oh, the horndog--I mean, our ‘friend’ is called Scoutit,” Cyborscout replied with a sour note.

Miss Pauling picked up the ‘scout’ part of their names. Coincidence? There was more to this. Sheer curiosity tugged at her psyche now.

“Why do you guys have ‘scout’ in your name?”

There was an awkward silence. “Well, one of my friends came up with the name. Sorta like a nickname for me. So it stuck. Though my first name is Irene.” Cyberscout then glanced over at Scoutit. “She, uh, liked it too. So she came up with her own spin on the word.”

Maybe the term wasn’t just used in the military. Maybe it was a lingo word in baseball. Still, for some inexplicable reason, they reminded Miss Pauling of Scout, especially in his ‘girl’ form.

“Are you sisters?” she asked. “All three of you look alike.”

Cyborscout was about to deny it when Iris cut in. “Yes! I’m the middle child.”

“What? No we're n--!” Cyborscout shot back, before Iris kicked her in the calf from under the bar. “Oh, uh, I mean—of course we’re sisters! Thought you’d never ask!”

“And you’re the oldest, right?” Miss Pauling guessed.

“Yeah, she’s already got gray in her hair,” Iris remarked.

“No I don’t!” Cyborscout was getting flustered. “Try looking in a mirror yourself and pick out the white strands on your head.”

 Her friend simply chuckled. “I’ll count only two. You’ll probably count five hundred of them.”

“Shut up!”

Zhanna smiled at the playful banter between them, and said, “I also have sisters. They moved from Siberia a few weeks ago.”

“Oh? Where at?” Iris inquired.

“Florida.”

They continued chit-chatting for a bit, except Miss Pauling got confused sometimes when the sisters mentioned unfamiliar terms or technology. They didn’t even know about the Alamo being moved to a cliff by the late Mann brothers, which was big news all over the US. Have they been living under a rock?

The hard barstool was beginning to hurt her butt. So she decided to go sit at one of the couches for awhile. Miss Pauling chose one near the dance floor and plopped down. Oooh, this felt more like it. Plushy and comfortable. One of the go-go performers sat beside her, a blonde busty lady in a sparkly white dress and knee-high boots. Her hair was bobbed with a white and red hair band topping it off.

“Hey honey, you don’t mind?” she said.

Miss Pauling shook her head. The dancer smiled back, twirling a martini glass in her hand. She asked, “Do you ever wonder if you’re in the wrong line of work?”

“Umm, what do you mean?” Miss Pauling replied.

“Well, I’m thinking of changing careers,” the other woman explained. “I don’t exactly fit this whole burlesque scene.”

“What do you want to do then?”

“What I really want to do is dissect aliens. I want to go work at Area 51.”

Hearing this really didn’t surprise the assistant. The Administrator and some other Mann Co. associates had shared a secret tidbit or two about went on at the obscure military facility.

“Well, I say why not?” she held up her drink. “There’s always room for a new chapter in your life. Here’s to your new career!”

“Cheers!” the other woman raised her glass. 

Miss Pauling was soon distracted by Scoutit at the bar’s end, who had turned around long enough to thank two elderly ladies upon giving a compliment to her skimpy outfit. Like Cyborscout and Iris, she had the same facial structure and defined nose. Plus, that cocky, self-absorbed grin…

Just like Jeremy.

It’s got to be the alcohol making me see funny, she thought.

Meanwhile, the guy that Scoutit was hitting on had snuck away from his seat; he was whispering to a nearby drag king. The she-man nodded with a huge smile, and went over, sitting on the bar stool that he had occupied a minute earlier.

“Ah, thanks grannies! I actually used scissors to cut a triangle in the middle!” Scoutit proudly pointed to her chest with the breasts nearly popping out. “Looks better this way, don’t it?”

“Fabulous!” one of the old ladies admired.

“Yes, superb fashion trend!” her friend agreed. “I’ll be sure to get one for my granddaughter’s birthday.”

After they walked off, Scoutit turned back to flirting with the guy. “So pretty young thing, how’s about you and me get freaky on the dance floor--“

She stopped dead in her tracks, mouth open. The cute guy was gone. In his place stood a muscle-bound woman dressed as a man in jeans and a black leather vest; complete with a beer belly, beard and hairy arms.

“I’ve been told you dig Harley-Davidson boys,” the drag king cooed.

“Get away from me!” Scoutit backed away in horror.

Cyborscout couldn’t help but giggle. Serves you right!

Miss Pauling smiled at the farcical scene, sharing in her mutual amusement. Suddenly, the blonde beside her was yanked backward off the couch by her hair. Another go-go dancer was the cause, dragging her acquaintance to the floor. This one was a petite, angry brunette.

“TABBY, YOU BITCH, HOW DARE YOU!” she yelled down.

“Face it, Marlene, I’m the one he wants!” the blonde sneered back.

Marlene let out an enraged cry, and started attacking Tabby. All Miss Pauling could do was groan with an eye roll at the catty melee ensuing on the ground.

She’d seen her fair share of women fighting over a guy in her family; in high school and college as well, leaving a bad aftertaste with the drama that followed.

“He loves me, you cheap thrift store slut!” Tabby yelled, as she wrestled with her coworker.

Zhanna walked away from the bar, with a grunt of disapproval. She bent down, picking up both women by the heads. “Alright, knock it off you two.” Then she slammed their heads together, causing Miss Pauling to wince. That would cause a migraine for both parties involved for awhile.

“If you want fight, go settle it outside.”

She then unceremoniously dropped them to the ground. Both women were in a daze afterwards, probably seeing stars. A third go-go dancer came bursting through the entrance, holding a blow-up male doll.

“Marlene! Tabby!” she called, pointing to the doll. “He can’t decide. He wants both of you.”

“Huh?” Miss Pauling was dumbfounded at this bizarre turn of events. They were both in love with a goddamn doll.

Tabby started bawling on the floor. “I thought you loved me, Earl!”

“Please don’t cry,” the third go-go dancer appealed. “We can talk this out.”

Tabby picked herself off from the floor, sniveling and teary-eyed, and sat back on the couch next to Miss Pauling.

Her friend holding the man-doll sat on the other side of her, but still cautiously looking back at Marlene.

“Earl, why do you want that dumb ho?” Tabby demanded.

“You little—“ Marlene started towards her, but a fourth dancer managed to hold her back.

“Now girls,” the bartender warned. “You start a fight again, and I’m throwing your asses out. You’ll be reported to your manager as well.”

Miss Pauling tried not to judge often, but she had to admit, there was definitely a screw loose or two with both women vying for the love of a lifeless object. Even Scoutit was looking at them funny.

A few bar customers were snickering at the dancers, probably over their unconventional choice of a lover. Couldn’t they just get with a real man??

While the assistant was mulling over it, a sudden movement caught the corner of her eye. She looked down to see a very familiar face peeking out at her under a coffee table – complete with worker’s goggles and a hardhat.

“What the--?” she blinked a few times to make it wasn’t an illusion. “En—Engineer?”

Without warning, a smaller version of the man with an elongated neck and attached to a blueberry pie, came up to her.

“I’m Piengeer,” it said.

Miss Pauling just gawked at the little freak. That’s it, there was something in that hard cider.

She had seen enough strange, crazy things in the past four years. Her mind  decided had its fill for today and to turn in; and so, she fainted. All the while, Cyberscout was watching the whole scene.

There he is! she thought.

Acting quickly, Cyborscout rushed over to the couches to grab the pie-man creature before anyone else noticed. The go-go dancers were too caught up in a petty argument over their two-timing plastic boyfriend to notice anything out of the ordinary. A good thing too.

Someone's hand was lightly patting Pauling's face. Opening her eyes, she came face to face with Zhanna and Cyborscout. The go-go dancers were gone.

"Uh, you okay there?" Cyborscout asked.

"What happened?" Miss Pauling sat up, feeling her head.

“You were out for a bit.”

Then it came back to her – had she really seen a mutated-looking creature that had Engineer’s head stuck to a pastry? Not unlike the crazy insect and human head switch from the “The Fly” films?

“Oh man, I think I was hallucinating,” Miss Pauling groaned. “I thought I saw one of my friends conjoined with a pie under the table there.” She pointed at the coffee table.

“Eh…the drink must’ve been spiked with drugs,” Cyborscout surmised. She cautiously glanced over at Iris and Scoutit sitting at a nearby table.

Zhanna frowned. “Can you make it back to base?”

“I think so…”

“Maybe we should wait here awhile until your head clears up.”

As Miss Pauling was trying to make sense at just what the hell happened, Cyborscout walked over to her comrades.

“Is he okay in there?”

Iris patted the knapsack slung to her shoulder. “Yes, he’s fine.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here.”

As all three walked passed Miss Pauling and Zhanna, they waved goodbye.

“Nice meeting you,” Cyberscout said, smiling amiably. “Hope you feel better!”

Miss Pauling managed to wave at them. “Oh, thanks! B--Bye!”

The dimension travelers then exited the bar, stepping back into the blistery evening cold.

Cyborscout, Scoutit and Iris walked away from the bar, crossing the street that housed a strip mall. For all their unusual attire, they still blended in somewhat with the regular crowd of night shoppers. They needed to find an inconspicuous place in order to return back through an inter-dimensional portal to their own world.

Iris pointed them in the right direction, an eastern part of town where they had first arrived from the desert. The crowd began thinning away, so now Piegineer wouldn’t have to keep quiet for long.

“Is it safe to talk yet?” he asked from the bag.

Iris and the others looked around as they walked down the street, now just several blocks away from the bar. A sleepy drunk lie slumped over a building. A few cars drove by, but other than that, this area of town was mostly vacant.

“Yes, there’s not that many people out here,” Iris confirmed.

“Okay, look here, gals. I’m sorry for breaking the temporal laws.”

“You should be,” Cyberscout replied, perturbed. If it weren’t for him escaping to this parallel plane of existence, none of them would have risked their necks coming here just to retrieve him. She wouldn’t have to put up with Scoutit, either.

“And for scaring the Misses in purple,” Piegineer continued.

“Miss Pauling?” Cyberscout asked.

“Yep.”

“Ahh, you’re just a friendly cutie patootie,” Scoutit reassured the half man/half pie.

“It wasn’t smart to show yourself in public when you knew what the consequences would be,” Cyborscout chided. “Especially in a foreign world like this. If anyone else saw you, they either would’ve freaked out, called pest control or try to eat you. Don’t do it again.”

“I got yah,” Piegineer agreed, remorseful. “But shucks, she was pretty as a peach.”

“What about me?” Scoutit demanded. “I’m hotter than that nerdy-looking bimbo!”

“No you’re not,” Piegineer denied.

“Alright, that’s it! You ain’t gettin’ a bangin’ from me!”

“Since when did I ever want one from you?”

“That’s enough now,” Iris calmly cut in. “Let’s just get back to our world before we draw suspicion from the denizens here.”

“Right,” Cyborscout agreed. All three finally reached the edge of the little town.

“I’m scared, gals.” Piegineer was shaking in the knapsack. “What if he comes back?”

Now Scoutit looked very troubled, her heart rhythm speeding up. “Please don’t mention that thing.”

Iris put a comforting hand on Piegineer’s head. “It’s alright. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You can trust us,” Cyborscout threw in.

Piegineer was sad. “I’m so defenseless. I wish had super powers like you gals.”

“Major Scout Guy and Drunk Monk are working on that,” Iris explained. “That way, Painis Cupcake won’t eat you again.”

“Uhgh!” Scoutit involuntarily jumped. “I told ya not to mention IT!”

Cyborscout raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Looks like the village nymphomaniac is scared of the big, bad cannibal soldier. Not even Heat Mode could save you.”

She recalled the brutal battle Scoutit had with another TF2 freak, Painis Cupcake. She was trying to save her friend, Ass Pancakes, from being literally devoured (again), but it was all in vain. Painis was just too powerful in his Uber charged state – she and Ass Pancakes ended up being painfully nommed to death before they were resurrected in a respawn room at Banana Bay Island. They only managed to evade his wrath once more by hiding under a blanket of bananas in a large bin.

Though, Cyborscout realized Painis Cupcake wasn’t truly evil. He just possessed an unholy appetite.

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Scoutit shot back, folding her arms and sulking. “Just because you've never got eaten by that creepy bastard.”

Ignoring her, Cyborscout told the little pie man, “Now, if we’re able to grant you some awesome, kick-ass powers, you promise not to run away again to another dimension?”

Piegineer looked down, apprehensive. “I’ll try not to. It’s just that I’m afraid he’ll show up again.”

“We’ll keep you at Cyboneer’s lab,” Iris suggested. “Nothing could penetrate his quarters there. TelroSpy can take care of you too. Scombine and Soldine already volunteered to defend the base.”

“Also, Polite Spy and Intelligent Heavy are trying to convince Painis not to eat unwilling people.” Cyborscout paused. “Atleast, not the good guys. Unless it’s of their own choice. You get suicidal ones or batshit thrill seekers that want to challenge him to a fight.”

“Thank you, darlings.” Piegineer let out a little yawn, curling into a ball. “I do feel safer with ya’ll around.”

“You might also want to consider staying in normal form more,” Iris suggested. “People seeing a pie, even with a human head on it, it still tempting to eat.”

Piegineer finally relented. “Okay, ya’ll right. I wouldn’t be stuck in this form if it wasn’t for that dag nabbit Magic Mann. Glad the troublemaker got his comeuppance. Too bad he ain’t around so we could get him to restore my transformation powers.”

“We’ll find a way. Medizard just discovered Magic Mann’s diary. He told me there’s several incantations in there that can reverse his spells. But it has to be recited by a wizard, otherwise, it won’t work. Lucky for us we got the good doctor. You may not be stuck as a pie for long.”

“Mmmm, pie,” Scoutit teased. “I just might want a piece of you. Blueberry’s my favorite.”

“No!” Piegineer protested.

“Leave him alone,” Cyberscout commanded.

The red-clad vixen only smirked, but said nothing more as Iris lifted up one of her gauze-wrapped hands. Turning it over to face the night sky, a luminous white ball appeared over her palm. A moment later, a swirling portal to their own world opened up.

Her extraordinary powers were a rare and powerful ability that only the most moral could possess. Otherwise, it could fall into the wrong hands and be abused across many dimensions of existence. And so, they all returned their own world, atleast before Piegineer had a chance to change his mind and escape again.

Later on, out in the desert road…

Zhanna was at the wheel of the car, while Miss Pauling was in the passenger’s side, pouting a bit. The Russian still didn’t trust that the assistant was okay from passing out again. Or witnessing crazy, strange versions of a mercenary only a person high on LSD would see.

After reluctantly agreeing to let her drive, Miss Pauling just hoped her partner wouldn’t crash the car or drive like a wild maniac on the road. So far, she was keeping up a steady pace.

After some silence, Zhanna spoke up. “You know those three women at bar?”

“Yeah?”

“They remind me of your little Scout. I wonder if they are related. Or if is coincidence.”

The assistant shrugged. “Who knows?”

Still, she considered it. Miss Pauling wouldn’t be surprised if they were some distant relatives of the bat-happy slugger. Maybe ones he didn’t know about. Or never spoke of. Spy came to mind, after all…

Chapter Text

A partial moon glowed brightly in the indigo sky and some coyotes occasionally howled by the time Miss Pauline and Zhanna arrived back at BLU base. Since their fight with Gray Mann’s robot army ended up with RED base destroyed, both teams were staying at BLU’s for the time being.

For Miss Pauling, it was always a challenge keeping up with doubles for each nine classes. But with each passing day, as well as her tenure during the Gravel Wars, she would notice their unique differences. Despite BLU team being clones of the RED team, the behavioral developments in their habits, likes and dislikes weren’t always the same.

There was an additional dormitory atleast for RED team to stay in, as well as a lounge area, recreational room and a second kitchen; all were separate from the main headquarters on the western side. The base used to be a military compound for the Air Force, so there were also several runways and an abandoned hangar.

It was a still a mystery to her how the Mann twins were able to get a hold of cloning technology. Unknown to her, but known to the Administrator, it was a carefully guarded secret that was directly connected to the Grey aliens.

It was critically sensitive data that the Administrator was very tight-lipped about. The Greys refused to share their technology with their human contacts (a clandestine group of scientists at TF Industries), but instead, agreed to supply them with experimental duplications of whole organisms.

The aliens knew all too well what would happen if humans got their hands on the cloning technology: some insane and evil group would reverse-engineer the complex process, possibly bringing back tyrants like Hitler or Nero; just to wreak more havoc on the world.

As to why they agreed to supply Blutarch Mann with clones of the mercenaries was unknown. Redmond Mann already claimed stakes to the original ones, which would later become RED team. They had initially signed binding contracts prior to the Gravel Wars, which included providing samples of their DNA. Except, RED team wasn’t expecting to fight copies of themselves.

Blutarch had been so obsessed with outdoing Redmond that he had to have replicas of his brother’s latest army; in literally mirroring their toxic sibling rivalry. Miss Pauling didn’t care to understand their twisted actions nor how such greedy, sinister people thought.

To her astonishment, the aliens even added a bonus clone: in the form of…her. This happened during the last year of the Gravel Wars. The Mann twins didn’t know what to do with her, so they just handed her over to the Administrator. This other Miss Pauling preferred to be called ‘Felicia’ and was assigned duties for the BLU Team.

Oddly enough, she lacked a less of a killer instinct. Not only did the cloning process screw up Felicia’s biological make-up, but Miss Pauling also wondered how the clone wasn’t fired or disposed of due to her utter ineptitude at killing. Or lying for that matter.

Felicia could be a terrible liar. She had…ethics. A lite, goody-goody version, it appeared. To her credit though, she was just as good at most secretarial duties; perhaps that’s why the Administrator kept her around. She seemed pretty good at keeping secrets too.

“We are almost there,” Zhanna announced.

To the assistant’s relief, the other woman had not sped down the road at 100 mph like Scout would have with the car.

When they both arrived at BLU base, mostly everyone had settled down for the night. They parked the Ford Falcon on the eastern side of RED’s temporary quarters. Miss Pauling was already making up some story about the nasty dent in the car; a drunk driver rammed into them, then took off. Atleast, she hoped the Administrator wouldn’t pry more into it.

Arriving in the kitchen, Miss Pauling placed the store bags down on a round table. Zhanna had wandered off to find her brother.

“Crap, I’m three minutes late into the show!” she hurried off to the recreation room, plopping down on the couch where RED Sniper and Scout were. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nah, just the usual shenanigans with the Bunkers,” the Australian marksman replied. “The preview said something about a high school reunion. I got a feeling Archie’s going to get his knickers in a twist though.”

Miss Pauling turned to Scout, who was trying to cover up his feminine features with a ‘masculine’ disguise: he wore a fake mustache, gauze tape tightly wrapped around his boobs and a black sweatjacket. His long hair had been cut short to match his old look.

“You know Scout, you don’t have to wear all that,” Miss Pauling pointed out, picking at the bowl of chocolate truffles on the coffee table. “We all know you’re suffering the effects of Merasmus’s gender-bend spell.”

“I tried convincing him, but he’s dug his heels in about it,” Sniper explained, before letting out a disdainful snort. “Bloody damn Soldier. This is all his fault.”

“Yeah, that Patton-wannabe nutjob owes me,” Scout agreed bitterly, while nibbling on a chicken strip. He turned to Miss Pauling, his face softening a bit. “I can’t help it. It still feel awkward bein’ a chick. My pride’s down the drain. I came out to watch the show, ‘cause I don’t have TV in my room. Otherwise, I’d watch it there.”

Miss Pauling glanced back at him with sympathy. “Well, like I mentioned before, we’ll make a deal with the wizard. He wasn’t after you anyway, so maybe he’ll relent.”

“I dunno. He’s usually trying to kill the whole team, not just Soldier. It’s not like we all made his life a freakin’ living hell.”

Miss Pauling patted his leg. “It isn’t fair, I know. But I still believe we have a shot at this.”

“Just hope so. I ain’t going anywhere near BLU either. For all I know they could start hittin’ on me. I’m wicked handsome and irresistible, you know.”

“So, you’re saying you look good as a girl?” Miss Pauling implored, an amused twinkle in her eyes.

Scout caught his mistake. “Oh uuhh, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Sniper rolled his eyes. “Sure you didn’t.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if I keep forgettin’ I’m now like Miss Pauling.” He/she quickly turned to her. “No offense, sweetie.”

Pauling only smiled a bit awkwardly, giving him a quick peck-kiss on the nose. She then turned her attention back to the episode. And soon, Scout and Sniper became engrossed in it as well, laughing and making snide, witty remarks at the most humorous or ridiculous parts of the show.

Afterwards, she retired for the night to her room on the second story – it had its own private bathroom, so it may have formerly belonged to a high-ranking officer. She washed up before settling in the soft, warm covers of her bed. It was a bunker style one, but comfortable enough to fall asleep in. Soon, she was out like a light, dreaming of strange little pie men, Scout girl clones and gigantic feline monsters.

                                                                                                           *   *   *

Slowly opening her eyes, Miss Pauling sat up in bed and stretched out her back. She still remembered the weird incident from last night, coupled with her vivid dreams of wildly exaggerated places and objects. Still, most dreams tended to be nonsensical anyway. So she brushed it off, making her way to the bathroom to wash up. Afterwards, she put on some casual attire and went to the kitchen to grab some morning grub.

“Atleast I get the weekends off now…” she murmured. She was grateful for the Administrator going somewhat soft and delegating part of her strenuous work to Felicia. So now she could use the free time to do whatever she wanted.

When she arrived at her destination, Zhanna was already helping Engineer make waffles, eggs and tater tots for breakfast.

She looked up as Miss Pauling entered the room, yawning. “Oh, little assistant is up? Just in time. I made some of my garlic omelets.”

“Thanks.” While the Russian’s omelets were very tasty, Miss Pauling preferred getting her oatmeal. She decided to scoop a little bit on her plate, and retrieved the box of oats from atop of the fridge.

The RED Spy, Pyro, Sniper and Demoman were already in the lounge area, seated at one of the tables. RED team usually congregated here in the lounge area, while BLU team ate their meals in the mess hall on the western side.

As Miss Pauling poured herself some coffee, Zhanna approached her.

“I made an extra plate for femScout. I know he is still embarrassed to be seen by team.”

Miss Pauling smiled. “That’s nice of you. I don’t see why he doesn’t just come here and enjoy some company.” Her eyes lit up. “But hey, he’ll probably get restless and zoom out of there like The Flash or something.”

“There is nothing wrong with being woman. But I understand. He did not ask for sex change.”

“Uh yeah, would have been different circumstances if he had.”

Miss Pauling got to preparing a kettle of water for the oats. As she monitored the stove’s temperature, she thought about how they were going to get Merasmus to turn her beloved honeyboo back to normal.

Hmmm…it would have to be a feasible offer. Maybe he might need roadkill for a spell? A one-year subscription to Playpen magazine? The teams performing the Conga dance? She was startled out of her thoughts by a loud bang at the table.

“BACK OFF, YOU SCUMMY KRAUT!”

Peering over the entrance way to the dining area, she saw Soldier leaning over the table, heatedly confronting Medic.

“I zwear, Herr Soldier, I vasn’t going to harm it,” the German doctor replied with a faux grin and holding one hand up.

“Horseshit! You are going to use this sacred American commodity in your filthy, anti-God vomit experiments!”

As Miss Pauling’s eyes panned down to the table, she saw how Soldier was protecting a…Twinkie snack?

“Vhy vould I do such a heinous zing?” Medic sweetly asked. Sniper leaned behind the doctor and saw his other hand with two fingers crossed.

The weasel… he thought.

“Do NOT touch a hair on its head!” Soldier warned.

Pyro and Demoman were trying to stifle their amused reactions, while Spy was glaring at Soldier in annoyance. Miss Pauling was a bit dumbfounded, but found she really wasn’t that surprised at the absurd situation. If anything so much contained an ounce of American origin, even a mere sugary pastry, the self-proclaimed general would defend it to the very end.

She could already hear Engineer groaning about it, except he chose to focus on not letting the food burn on the stove.

“After everyzhing I do for you?” Medic continued. “Healing you vhenever you so much as stubbed your toe or vere riddled vis bullet holes like sviss cheese? Bitte, just give me ze Twinkie.”

“NO!”

 BLU Soldier then appeared from the corridor, puffing on a cigar.

Demoman noticed him, getting up from his seat. “G’morning, Solly! Ready to head out for some target vulture practice?”

“YOU!” Soldier barked, stabbing a finger at his BLU clone. “What did I say about smoking in here?”

“We are going out,” BLU Soldier replied.

“Still can’t kick the habit, eh lad?” Demoman implored.

“I am trying,” BLU muttered.

“Soldier,” Medic attempted once more. “Zis unreasonable behavior of yours over protecting a cream cake iz ridiculous.”

“Like hell it is!” Soldier shot back. “Now lay off it!”

BLU Soldier frowned. “He is protecting a Twinkie?”

Demoman sighed. “Aye.”

“You are damn right I am!” Soldier affirmed. “So America help me, this is the hill I will die on to protect the sanctity of our mighty, hippie-hating rights to exist on God’s chosen country!”

Sniper and Spy were already comforting their ears from Soldier’s excruciating yelling.

BLU Soldier shrugged. “It is just a snack.”

“How dare you, traitor!" Soldier accused. "Unwilling to defend, to the righteous core, this American national treasure! I call insubordination!”

“Not my business what happens to junk food.”

“Take that back, you Benedict Arnold! Where is your patriotism in defending Private Twink? A citizen of this great kick-ass country is under attack from Josef Mengele here.” He pointed over at Medic, who was just about ready to give up and leave.

“Ack, Solly and I will be heading out now,” Demoman announced, tugging BLU Soldier along. “C’mon, ye dinnae want tae miss blowing some bird rats' asses tae kingdom come.”

His friend agreed with the sentiment. “And a hornet’s nest?”

“If we find one today.”

Demoman and BLU Soldier happily strolled back towards the corridor.

“Do not turn your back on me, you damn, lousy deserters!” Soldier objected, starting to follow them.

Zhanna came up behind him, placing her arms around his torso. “Come now, Jane. Forget about them. You can deal punishment to them later. Besides, I made your favorite omelet and sausage patties.”

Instantly, the red-clad man became a teddy bear by her embrace, turning to her with one of his affectionate chuckles.

“You wouldn’t want yummy meal to get cold now, would you?” she cooed.

“Cupcake, I’d as soon die under the wheels of a Commie tank than to let that happen,” he replied.

“Come, my dorogoĭ, let us get breakfast. That is an order.”

Soldier couldn’t take his admiring eyes off his fiancée, the other mercenaries knowing she was one of his few weaknesses.

“Yes sir, my basted turkey love.”

The fight over the Twinkie now forgotten, Zhanna then led Soldier into the kitchen. Afterwards, Sniper simply handed the Twinkie over to Medic.

“I’ll just say I gave it a nice, good home in me belly,” he explained.

Medic smiled deviously. “I zee. Such a devastating betrayal to Soldier though.”

Sniper waved it off. “That bugger is always off his rocker. Like BLU Soldier said, it’s just a snack.”

Medic let out a little sardonic chuckle. “Of course. Danke, Herr Sniper.” With that, he tucked the Twinkie away in one of his coat pockets and scurried back to the laboratory, like Dick Dastardly about to carry out a nefarious scheme. The fate of the cream cake was sure to meet a horrific end.

“Just hope he doesn’t cross its molecules with the DNA of a cockroach,” Sniper muttered.

 Miss Pauling hoped so too. The horrid memory of the bread monster still haunted her from time to time. Later in the afternoon, when it was warmer, she stepped outside the base to catch some fresh air. A little Vitamin D exposure couldn’t hurt either.

Walking along the wrought iron fence that surrounded this particular base, she caught a glimpse of the BLU Scout racing around the hangar building; he then sped off to complete a lap around the entire premises. At the patio, she spotted the RED Engineer and Heavy sitting there, keeping warm with jackets and drinking tea. The large Russian gunner was engrossed in another novel.

The RED Pyro was sitting on the ground, lighting a bunch of green toy soldiers on fire.

Miss Pauling walked up to them, puzzled. “Why are they doing that?”

Engineer made a face. “They think burning the ‘evil’ toys will help save Poonicorn.”

He pointed to a stuffed unicorn plushie tied up against one of the lawn chair legs.

“They pretend toy soldiers kidnap their unicorn friend and tie him up,” Heavy added.

The mysterious arsonist almost resembled a kid playing with their toys. They invariably had the mindset of one at times, prompting her to believe they might have neoteny. Engineer and Heavy were just watching Pyro so they wouldn’t burn half the base down; if the nearby fire extinguisher was anything to go by.

She decided to get some laundry done, but stopped in mid-walk to throw a glance back at Engineer. Last night....she imagined him as just a head on a pie sitting at the patio table. She shook her head to ward off the bizarre image, hurrying over to the laundry room. It was a small concrete building attached to the eastern side of BLU team’s quarters. She encountered Felicia there, petting a Mexican Spotted Owl perched atop one of the dryers.

It was easy to recognize the owl belonged to BLU Sniper. His name was Bubo and had a tame, gentle disposition. In contrast, RED Sniper owned a different species, which was a Great-Horned Owl named Sir Hootsalot.

Felicia’s green eyes lit up when Miss Pauling stepped in. “Hey there, twin sister!”

A brief pause, before she replied, “Might as well be. I never had any siblings.”

“Neither do I!”

Miss Pauling let out a short laugh. “Are you feeling better from the sniffles?”

Felicia beamed. “Oh yes! Now I want to go out for a hot sundae! Ideal in this kind of weather.”

Unlike the real team, Miss Pauling noticed the clones tended to get sick more. Felicia was no exception. This delayed BLU’s scheduled battles during the Gravel and Robot Wars at times. Then again, who knows how many screw-ups came from their cloning process?

They may have appeared ‘weaker’ than RED team, but she saw them enough in action to know that they were pretty skilled, and had won two-thirds of past matches.

Some of their quirks were nonsensical too, such as BLU Demoman insisting on wearing an eye patch, even though he had a normal left eye. He claimed he felt ‘atrociously butt-naked and incomplete’ without it. No doubt, this was a strong, habitual trait transferred over from RED Demoman, right down to the DNA sequencing.

It’s a good thing MONOCULUS wasn’t cloned! Miss Pauling thought.

It would have been more nightmare fuel dealing with two giant monster eyes.

BLU had even given themselves names - Soldier decided to call himself 'John,' Sniper was 'Cyril', Scout was 'Billy', Spy was 'Stefan', Demoman was 'Thomas', and so forth.

“Want to come along?” Felicia’s cheerful voice broke her reverie.

Miss Pauling really didn’t care for sundaes. She had a feeling her clone would get a bellyache just swallowing them down in rapid succession instead of taking the time to enjoy one. Since she was the only girl on the premise besides her and Zhanna, the assistant felt a bit bad for her. Felicia seemed to be lonelier than any other team mate here.

Maybe because she was considered to be ‘normal,’ and didn’t fit in with a bunch of contract killers. Then again, some of the BLU members had exhibited signs of intermittently losing their ‘bloodthirsty’ instinct – their Sniper and Engineer, for one. That wasn’t normal by mercenary standards. 

Another cloning failure that revealed its cracks nearly two years ago…

Brushing the disturbing thought aside, Miss Pauling replied, “Okay, I’m game.”

“Awesome!” Felicia clasped her hands together. “Hey, you don’t mind if we take some pictures together?”

“Oh. Why?”

“I’m gonna enter them in the Doublemint Twins contest!”

Miss Pauling remembered the chewing gum brand. Their commercials were quite popular for featuring identical twin siblings. She didn’t care for that either, but hey, what was the harm in snapping a pic or two for posterity?

“Sure, why not.”

“Thanks! I hope we win this year! Meet me later at the canteen. Dress and style your best, okay?”

“You got it.”

“Fab!”

Felicia giddily skipped out of the room, Bubo following her on the way out. He was a charming owl, being just as friendly as Sox. He certainly didn’t intimidate Miss Pauling like Sir Hootsalot did.

Awhile later, Pauling took a break after drying her clothes; she suddenly heard two familiar voices from outside. Wiping the small sweat from her brow, she exited the laundry room and saw two people’s distinct shadows reflected against a nearby utility control building.

It was the BLU Scout and BLU Spy.

“So, I heard Miss Pauling is gonna cut a deal with Miranda to change RED Scout back to a dude,” BLU Scout was saying.

“It’s Merasmus,” BLU Spy corrected.

“Uh…yeah, that’s what I mean. Mera Miss.”

BLU Spy merely sighed. “Anyway, how did you find out?”

“A little birdie told me.”

“Scout, I’m in no mood for your cheekiness…”

“No seriously, RED Scout’s bird? Sox? Flew over to my window this mornin' and indicated by pointin' to some pictures with his beak. There was one I drew of the wizard dude. Another with Miss Pauline and Scout in the group picture. Then to a message from a fortune cookie I ate.”

“And what did the message read?”

“Accept an offer you can’t refuse.”

“How contrived,” BLU Spy muttered, before perking up. “Is that so? And you managed to figure this out just by the rudimentary gestures from an animal?”

“Hey, I’m pretty smart,” BLU Scout defended smugly. “Even an idiot could understand what he was tryna say. Sox is a clever bird too. Though not as clever as Bruins is.”

Bruins…ah yes, Miss Pauling recalled his pet Blue Jay. The bird was so named after the Boston hockey team.

“Well, if successful, I’m sure he’ll be glad to return back to his old self. Let’s just hope zat whatever Miss Pauling has for an offer duly convinces the 6,000 year old sorcerer. By now, he’s very set in his ways.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Hey Spy? You know about the whole family drama goin' on with RED Scout and RED Spy?”

“What about it?”

BLU Scout thoughtfully rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…you know how RED Spy was out of other me’s life and didn’t come back until several years ago?”

“Oui?”

“Well, we’re clones of them, but since we don’t have a history with each other…I shouldn’t be mad at you, right?”

“Of course not. We may be copies of them, but their experiences don’t define us. Neither do I have my counterpart’s baggage of love child abandonment issues.”

BLU Scout frowned. “I wonder though…I suppose he had to leave other me and his Ma because of his dangerous work.”

“Being a spy can have its inherent risks,” BLU Spy agreed. “Not only to oneself, but to those they associate with – including family. But since we don’t have any of their memories - atleast on a conscious level - we can only speculate.”

That’s one thing the cloning process partially got right. Bits and pieces of memories only surfaced in their dreams or at a subconscious level in their habits - such as BLU Scout flexing his hands the same way RED Scout did. Otherwise, had BLU team inherited full memories of their RED counterparts, it would have been more difficult and extremely distracting fighting each other on the battlefield.

He then turned to Scout, a spark of sincerity in his cobalt eyes. “He had his reasons. But he wasn’t completely out of RED Scout’s life growing up. From what I gather, he sent the mother funds to support her and occasionally visited the family. But not often enough. Marc was a busy man in a dubious career. Besides, he didn’t want to risk an enemy following him back to the home where RED Scout and his family lived.”

“So, other me kinda knew RED Spy was his dad back then?” BLU Scout surmised.

Spy pondered over it. “I’m not sure. The intrinsic feelings I get sometimes from what should have been Marc's memories give me a clue. Jeremy might have seen him as an on again-off again boyfriend to his mother. She probably dropped subtle hints.”

“Huh. Well, I just hope, you know…the two work it out.”

“It’ll take time. It’s really RED Scout’s move. There are plenty of valid reasons why he shouldn’t pursue a relationship with the man who chose to be out of his life.”

“I would give it a go. I believe in givin’ people second chances.”

This was a stark contrast Miss Pauling noticed between both bat sluggers. Though they were nearly identical in their fighting abilities and cocky spirit on the battlefield, BLU Scout seemed more forgiving and surprisingly sentimental on certain subjects. RED Scout tended to hold a grudge longer, and was a tad more hotheaded.

Then again, BLU Scout never had the raw, visceral experiences that ultimately shaped his RED counterpart’s life. His own life literally began the moment he stepped out of an alien laboratory.

So, at times, he came off as a bit naïve. One thing’s for sure, they both loved Tom Jones music.

“A virtuous trait to possess,” BLU Spy remarked. “I only hope it doesn’t backfire on you one day.”

“Me neither.” BLU Scout grinned, before poking Spy’s shoulder. “In the meantime, can I call you Dad?”

“Scout…” BLU Spy groaned. “Not this again.”

“No? C’mon, we’re father and son. How many hoops do I have jump through to make me official in your fancy bloodline?”

“Genetically we’re kin, but we’re still clones. I don’t feel this…paternalistic instinct toward you.”

“Fine, fine. How ‘bout Pops?”

“You’re not going to give this up, are you?”

“Try me, old man.”

Miss Pauling silently scurried away from their private conversation – although maybe she wouldn’t call it that, since BLU Scout’s voice was loud enough to hear from the patio and RED’s quarters.

After putting her freshly cleaned clothes away, she went to the main kitchen to get a snack. Hopefully, there was still a bag of dried apricots or walnuts in the pantry. As she went over the options again on how she would deal with Merasmus, the phone suddenly rang on the wall.

She picked it up. “BLU Base, Miss Pauling speaking?”

“It is I, Merasmus!” a thunderous voice announced. “Shiver and quake in your soiled underpants, puny little insect!”

Speak of the devil…

Chapter Text

"Oh! Merasmus! Hey, I was just about to contact you!" Miss Pauling greeted, feigning a cheerful mood.

"I'm flattered, little mouse, but you must have my old number. I recently changed it. Anyhow, Merasmus is inquiring about the dating ad."

Now the assistant was confused. "Uh, dating ad?"

There was an unexpected change in the wizard's tone, as his menacing voice softened to a more…fond one?

"Yes, the ad for Helen Furias aka The Announcer for the Gravel War battles." There was a purr sound at the other end. "Currently single. Employed by the tycoon Mann brothers, owners of TF Industries and Mann Co. Both dead. An old crone face...such a ravishing beauty!"

Miss Pauling felt her heart caught in her throat. What the hell was going on here?

"Merasmus, is this some kind of sick joke?"

"You didn't put in the ad?"

"What? No!"

"Hmmm…" She could hear paper shuffling over the phone. "Then how do you explain the following message?"

Miss Pauling's eyes grew wider by the second as he read over the next paragraph:

"I will go out with you, oh Great Lord Merasmus, if you change our conceited little asshat, Scout, back to a dude. Please call the number below to talk with one of our associates in arranging the date. I look forward to you charming the sagging badongas off of me."

Signed,

The Skinny Old Bitch"

"Consider the deal done," Merasmus finished.

"Wait, we didn't send you this ad!" Miss Pauling protested. There had to be another way to negotiate with the wizard on reversing the spell.

"Even if you didn't, the offer still stands."

"Look, why don't we decide on something else? I have free tickets to the annual slapping contest in Tuefort. Or how about a contract killing?" She paused. "Only, not the RED Soldier."

Merasmus guffawed. "Believe me, child, I have already tried. Unfortunately, he got away with stealing my pseudo immortal pills a few years back. But no, I will still exact my revenge on that abominable, war-obsessed idiot. It took me six months to concoct that gender transformation spell. Now I will have to spend another six months recreating the same one!"

"Wait, does this also mean undoing the spell would take long too?"

"No, it is rather the opposite. Removing it is quite simple compared to gathering the required five million ingredients. Three million on Earth, two million on Mars, five hundred on Pluto alone, ectera, ectera."

Miss Pauling was baffled. Five million ingredients just for a spell?

"Besides, I will not pass up this opportunity to go out with such a maliciously fine and twisted harpy. There's something about her bitter, wicked-stepmother look that calls to my dreary, tormented soul."

Ewww. No. Miss Pauling shuddered.

"Please, just reconsider. What about litigation for the wrongful arrest over the Tom Jones murder?"

She hoped that he didn't suspect her of being involved in his framing and subsequent jail time. She'd be turned into some rodent and given to his hungry buzzards. She did feel a little bad for getting him in that horrendous mess. But hey, what's a little poetic justice over a sorcerer that constantly disrupted the teams' battles during the last half of the Gravel Wars?

"A generous gesture, but I've already taken care of that," the wizard countered.

"Uhhh, paying off your entire debt?"

"That has also been settled when I sold Blackbeard's skull to the Smithsonian Museum. Besides, you cannot steer me away from this tantalizing opportunity, foolish mortal! Now, I'll—" there was some a loud screeching in the background, "what the hell-? Shit! Bombinomicon, I told you to keep the vampire bats from getting out of the cauldron!" A snarky voice, reminiscent of Cheech Marin, could be heard speaking before Merasmus dropped the phone. "-curse you! Get back in there, you pig-nosed rats!"

He then could be heard yelling some more at Bombinomicon, before he finally got back on the phone. "My apologies, as I'm in the middle of brewing an elixir for nose hair growth."

He turned away from the receiver again. "Shut up, you goddamn, insufferable curse book!" With his attention back on Miss Pauling, he stated, "As I was saying, I'll send you my business card with the new contact information by overnight mail. Farewell, puny mortal-"

Once again, the wizard was distracted. "I said shut up, Bombino! I am on the phone here! No, I do not want to be a sugar daddy to the young woman-"

The call abruptly ended. Miss Pauling let out weary sigh and plopped down in a dining chair. Great, now they were in more of a deeper hole of trouble. And a scheming Merasmus had the upper hand…

An hour later…

Miss Pauling was in the base's central control room. Taking a deep, nervous breath, she turned a dial on the com dashboard, opening a channel to her boss. The Administrator's stern face appeared on one of four adjacent screens.

"Administrator!" she greeted nervously. "So glad you're available! I…uh, got some information regarding how we can get to undo his spell on Scout." She took another deep breath, dreading the next moment. "But it's…bad news. You see, the wizard called me. He had this…dating ad and, well..."

The older woman sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. "I know, Miss Pauling."

"What?"

"I got the ad too." She was flabbergasted when the Administrator held up a copy of the document in question. It showed a picture of her boss, smoking away in an office – like she just had about enough of life and was one gunshot away from ending it.

Below was a description of the Administrator's stats and the tasteless paragraph Merasmus had read verbatim.

"One of the messengers brought it in from TF Industries. It was anonymously addressed to me."

Occasionally the Administrator posed as the Vice President of the company, as this was her public façade. Otherwise, she was hardly ever present there.

"Apparently, I'm being used as a bargaining tool against the wizard," she continued.

"Yes," Miss Pauling admitted.

"And somebody used this opportunity to play a cruel prank on me. Or maybe it was...a vendetta." She coolly took a drag of her cigarette. "I must commend their ruthlessness and twisted sense of humor. I wasn't expecting it. It also appears they know about the wizard and the spell he put on the RED Scout."

"No…it can't be." Miss Pauling was in denial. She didn't want to believe it could have been one of the mercenaries, as they were the only ones who knew about Scout's dilemma. Sox, Bruins and the Eyelander did too.

The assistant grew incensed. "Well, whoever it was, I'll get to the bottom of this! This is ridiculous! No way are you going out with him!"

The Administrator looked alarmed. "Was he interested?"

"He…was." The assistant couldn't quell the anxiety bubbling up. Her boss and sometimes, friend, was in a pickle. She had no idea if the Administrator would get out of this with her dignity still intact. "I tried talking him out of it. You know, negotiate with the usual trades. But he outright refused."

The Administrator let out another sigh. "You tried. Of course, I'll decline the date. But if he doesn't take no for an answer, well...I'll just do what I did on four of my dates and two failed relationships."

"What's that?"

She took another drag from the cigarette. "Bore him to death with nonstop talk of Australium."

"Are you sure it'll work?"

"Either that or I'm not the only obsessive freak over the stuff."

Miss Pauling still didn't like where this was going. "Why don't you just go into hiding like the last time with Gray Mann?"

"I thought of that. However, my life's not in danger. It's merely a silly dating arrangement in exchange for removing a spell on one of our employees."

"That may be, but I'm concerned you're being forced into it."

The Administrator snorted. "Not surprising. That's why before I have to humiliate myself with such a repugnant creature, we can come up with Plan A."

"You can press charges if he doesn't back down," Miss Pauling suggested. "New Mexico law is very on the side of people being harassed into going on uh…dates with creepy old witch-men?"

"Even if I could sick the law hounds on him, it might make the situation worse. This could anger the wizard more and he could refuse to change Scout back."

Miss Pauling felt the unpleasant prick of despair. "Still...you shouldn't be coerced into doing something just for the benefit of someone who terrorizes us every Halloween."

"I do appreciate you considering my well-being; despite the kind of person I am."

Miss Pauling thought she saw a glint of gratitude on her boss's sharp, stoic eyes.

"In the meantime, I'm going to go smoke two packs of cigarettes. After hearing about this, I certainly need it."

"I'll work on Plan A."

"Thank you. One more thing: I see from video camera 14, the company car is banged up on the passenger's side."

"Oh that…uh, I was just to about to bring it up! It was a hit and run accident."

The older woman put her hand to her forehead. "Our insurance premium rate is high enough as it is from the last accident."

Miss Pauling remembered Scout and Pyro had went joyriding and ended up crashing the car into a roadside diner. Luckily, nobody was hurt inside the restaurant, but the owner wasn't too happy about it.

"Just take it to Saxton Hale's auto body repair man," the Administrator ordered. "We can pay him under the table for his work."

There was a sigh of relief from the assistant. "Yes, ma'am."

"Throw in a level 2 Sentry. Perhaps the auto body shop could find valuable use in protecting their business from a break-in."

It turned out neither team had anything to do with the dating ad scheme. Not even the Eyelander or Beep Jr. robot (not like he'd be the spiteful, mischievous type to pull a stunt like that).

A few hours later, a meeting was held with RED Team in one of the conference rooms. They had to somehow find a counter offer for the wizard. While Miss Pauling scribbled down several suggestions from the team members, it was Soldier who stood up, finally taking responsibility for his careless actions.

"Miss Pauling, I should be the one to bargain with Merasmus." All eyes turned to him, some of them holding resentment.

"You have a suggestion, Soldier?" she implored.

"Yes. I am to blame for Scout's sacred right to manhood and his ballsack being taken away. No other American here should needlessly be involved in my messes with the wizard."

"Haven't we always been involved in your messes?" Spy muttered, as Sniper beside him nodded in agreement.

Soldier continued. "I can offer some of my ear or finger collections. Owning such precious commodities may appease him enough to undo the spell."

Some of the other team members reacted with disgust (despite seeing the carnage everyday from their battles). Pyro just about had it with Soldier – aside from being dragged into the latest spat with Merasmus, the arsonist was also mad at him for feeding their Lollichop to his raccoons.

"Mmmph-mhhphhh-mhhphhhh!" Pyro angrily gestured with their hands. "Mpphh, hphhh mmmmm hmhph!" Translation: "Soldier, what a stupid suggestion! I'm not going along with it, you piss-poor military reject!"

"What did you say?" Soldier demanded, sensing their hostility.

Engineer, being the only one who could understand Pyro, looked nervous.

"Uh, they're still upset that Balloonicorn ain't talkin' to them," he lied. "They're sad and misses tea parties with him."

"Hmpphh!" Pyro turned away, but grudgingly went along with Engineer's ruse.

"Ack! Soldier, why dinnae ye just offer to pay for dinner?" Demoman suggested. "Like maybe at some all-American diner, such as A&W?"

Soldier rubbed his chin in thought. "That does not sound too bad. I do love their fries and root beer floats."

The Scotsman cringed a bit. "That might also make up for what happened at city hall."

"Affirmative. I did not mean for Sergeant Chops and his unit to eat Merasmus's birthday cake."

A few weeks earlier, the Tuefort mayor had invited Merasmus to celebrate his birthday for purifying the city water of the toxic lead. The mayor was quite concerned about his town being dubbed "The City Where Your IQ Drops Every Day." Aside for being very detrimental to the citizens' health, it was also bad for business.

Soldier shows up at city hall that day, along with Zhanna and his raccoon squad. The animals ended up attacking the cake, completely devouring it in under a minute. This not only upset Merasmus, but the mayor and everyone else there – although there were several people in the crowd who cooed at the little critters, while others laughed at the ensuing mayhem.

"While we're at it, why not throw in some Scrumpy?" Demoman added. "I can part with a few bottles. I'm going along with it to help Scout. The wizard man might dig the stuff."

"Pootis Pez candy dispensers?" Heavy chimed in.

Medic mulled over it. "Mmmm, I can give him a few snouts of ze possums in ze freezer…"

"I agree with all your suggestions," Miss Pauling spoke up. "We can construct some sort of...gift basket? There's got to be something of interest to him among the items we can provide." She thought for a moment. "What about a bag of weed?"

"Miss Pauling, there will be no drugs allowed, especially not the Devil's lettuce!" Soldier retorted.

"Soldier, we're talking about Scout's masculinity at stake here. What if it's exactly what we need to tip the scales in our favor?"

The crazed military man sat back down, folding his arms. "I still do not like it. Merasmus will become a drug addict if he ingests that shit!"

Spy snorted. "Do we care? As long as we can get that ram-skull imbecile to change Scout back."

"I despise drug users!" Soldier seethed. "Weak little sissies whose idea of escaping the hardships of life is through snorting sugar or injecting poison into themselves!"

"Not sugar, lad, it's crank or cocaine," Demoman corrected.

"He might not find interest in the stuff and toss it," Sniper pointed out. "Or use it in one of his spells. Who knows? Do it for Scout, mate."

The other team members voiced their adamant agreements.

"Fine," Soldier conceded. "Only if we include a brochure to a drug rehab center in the basket."

Miss Pauling took of note of it. "Okay, will do. Any more suggestions?"

A pause, before Soldier piped up again. "I will speak with him on the phone."

"Are you sure he'll want to talk to you? He's quite mad at you."

"He will talk to me. He always does, even when he is teed off beyond Hell's inferno pits."

The next day…

Miss Pauling had received Merasmus's contact information card in the mail. The logo design was a spooky Gargoyle Soul statue. It also included a recipe on how to beat incontinence involving garden snails and antifreeze. She decided to pursue the gruesome suggestion Soldier put forth, just in case the wizard actually needed a piece of toe for some morbid alchemy mixture.

Zhanna had included one of her Russian doll amulets, originally made by her mother. She was willing to part with it if it meant helping Scout. Even Felicia had gave a record 45 of Carly Simon music and some bird seed as part of the deal.

The assistant stood beside Soldier in the kitchen, as he dialed the wizard's number.

"Greetings, you miserable little mortals! To whom do I, Merasmus the greatest magician in all the universe, have the pleasure of terrorizing?"

"Oh, hey Merasmus!" Soldier brightly announced. "It is your ex-roommate, Sold—"

Click!

The receiver line went dead.

"Hello? Merasmus?"

Miss Pauling was disappointed. "Er…want to try again?"

And so, they called several more times, but with every call, the wizard hung up at the sound of the mercenary's voice. Finally, on the tenth call, it went to his answering machine (which first played a 15-minute-long suite of Richard Wagner music before a recording prompted the caller to leave a message). So Soldier did just that, typically loud and jingoistic, then hung up the phone.

"Well, that went nowhere," Miss Pauling remarked.

"He will eventually talk to me!" Soldier said with a triumphant laugh and walking off into the hall. "He cannot avoid me forever. Nothing and no one can!"

Miss Pauling shook her head. I'll talk to him…

So, she waited a few hours until the wizard cooled down. After dinner, Miss Pauling decided to call him from the Control Center room.

"Greetings, it is I, Mer—wait. Soldier, if this is you, I swear I am going to boil your raccoon vermin alive and send their cooked gizzards back to you in a shoe box—"

"Merasmus, hold on! It's me, Miss Pauling."

A momentary pause, before he replied, "Oh, the maid servant to my date?"

"No, I'm a secretary."

"Same thing to me."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Don't worry, Soldier won't speak with you. I've called to offer you an alternative to the date."

"No can do. When Merasmus has made up his mind, he has made up his mind!"

"So, you wouldn't be interested in a basket of goodies?"

"Oh? Do pray tell what kind of goodies?"

Miss Pauling perked up. "Well, we have a nice variety to choose from: human ears, fingers, a paid dinner at A&W, possum noses, candy dispensers, Scrumpy, a Beep Boy, a Spy crab plushie, a rubber ducky, some marijuana—"

"Ack! Valhalla no, child, all useless items to me."

"Not even the A&W offer? You have got to try their burgers," Miss Pauling pushed. She couldn't imagine anyone refusing the delectable taste of such juicy, tender patties. Even the local farmers' cows loved them.

"Blecch! I'm a vegetarian, Miss Pauling. Thank you but no thank you on the second-hand bribe."

A nerve was struck. "Heyyy, I'll have you know, I'm a pro at bribes, but second-hand is not one of them!"

"Believe me, after 6,000 years of dealing with numerous buy-offs, I've become an aficionado at the tier rating system."

Ignoring the ego wound at the moment, Miss Pauling said, "Whatever. Will you consider the offer?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Look, Scout had nothing to do with your guys' feud. He shouldn't be taking the brunt of your wrath on Soldier. It was an accident anyway, right?"

Merasmus mulled over this. "I admit it was." His voice grew sinister. "But I refuse to go back on my word about the date. It's still on."

"But…that's harassment!" Miss Pauling protested. "The Administrator doesn't want to go out with you!"

"Do you want the spell removed or not?"

The young woman sighed loudly. "Yes, but—"

"Then heed my offer, little mortal. I get one evening out with your boss and your team mate will be back to normal. Now if you'll excuse me, I have tarantula soup cooking on the stove."

And with that, he hung up. Miss Pauling threw the phone down, ready to pull out her hair. That damn, manipulative bastard was being stubborn about it!

"I'm not a second-hand briber…" she grumbled, walking out of the control room.

                                                                                                              *   *   *

Miss Pauling sat in the empty lounge area; her face buried in her hands. She was not only letting the teams down, but Scout and the Administrator most of all. Of course, she wanted him back to the way he was, but at what cost?

She was so caught up in her plight, that she barely heard the sounds of oxfords clicking on floor.

"Mademoiselle?"

She looked up to see the RED Spy approaching.

"Oh, hi Spy!" she greeted, smiling affably to hide her distress.

"I understand the wizard is being very adamant about dating the Administrator." He took a seat, sitting down opposite her.

"I suppose you found out eavesdropping," Miss Pauling replied, a bit annoyed over the private conversation being breached. She should have known Spy would tap the phone line.

"Indeed, I have." A spy will be a spy, no matter what. "And I have a proposal."

"Forget it, he's not budging on the issue."

"I know," Spy acknowledged solemnly. "That's why I believe this solution might be more tenable than the others. What if I…" he hesitated. "…go in her place?"

Now the assistant was taken aback. "What?"

"Yes. I can disguise myself as the Administrator." His face scrunched up a disdain. "It would by far be the most disgusting thing I ever did. But not impossible."

"Oh…you would do that for her?"

"Not for her." Spy's eyes softened with concern. "I'm doing it for my son."

Jeremy…

That sentiment warmed her partially cold heart – people still cared about others. Despite being paid to be ruthless killers, Spy wasn't willing to let family go through such an awful ordeal.

"And if he tries 'anything' with me, well, I can handle such 'inappropriate misconduct.' Engineer would fit me with inconspicuous tracking and intercom devices. During that time, my BLU counterpart can go as a backup; mainly disguised as waiter, if we decide to go out to a restaurant."

But was BLU willing to get involved? Their irksome dilemma with Merasmus was RED team's problem.

"Is he willing to go with the plan?" she asked, anxious.

"Oh, I have a feeling he'll take it as an opportunity to hone his espionage skills. Also, you do have incentives in order, oui?"

"Yes, absolutely!"

"Then there should be no problem compensating him for his time and effort."

She bit her lower lip, another crucial detail coming to mind. "You can talk to the Administrator about it. I'm sure she has some pointers on how to discourage Merasmus from pursuing her on a second date."

"I see." There was a wry smirk on his lips. "I look forward to the appointment with her then." He got up, giving a polite nod. "Good day, Mademoiselle Pauling."

After he left, the assistant felt a burdensome weight lift off her, replaced by a sliver of hope. The plan might still go awry, but atleast they had a solid chance to outsmart the wizard and get what they wanted in the process. Maybe Scout wouldn't have to charge into battle as a female, after all.

There was still time to set things right.

She couldn't wait to inform Scout. She headed back to her room to gather her notepad, before looking for him. He still might be holed up in his room, so she would start there. She also gathered the make-up and clothes she would need to wear for Felicia's pictures.

A pair of nose/mustache glasses fell out of her closet when she opened it. It was the Groucho Marx ones that Scout gave her last year. Perhaps she could borrow another one and give it to Felicia to wear in one of the snapshots.

Putting it on, she struck a pose, pretending to smoke a cigarette. "Fancy meeting you here, Jeremy! Wanna go out to the movies and see Easy Rider again? No, I have something better! Let's go get some pork belly sandwiches. Share a jalapeno milkshake. Go shoot a couple of coyotes. Maybe a romp in the bed later?"

She put her hands on hips, cocking her head to the side. "What do you think, Felicia? Does this make us look more like sisters? Surely, we'll win the contest this time!"

There came a steady knock at the door.

"Just a moment!" Miss Pauling took off the glasses, tossing them on the bed.

When she opened the door, the BLU Engineer stood there. There were several record albums, a snack bag, a rubber chicken toy and a signed baseball in his arms.

"I, uh, got some things here that RED Scout might like," he explained. "I know he doesn't want anyone seeing him because of what happened with Merasmus."

"That's...kind of you."

"Do you mind giving them to him? I don't want to make him feel uncomfortable if he don't want to see anybody else."

"No, no, I can ask if he'd like to see you."

RED Scout and BLU Engineer were the third duo from opposite teams to violate company policy and pursue a secret friendship (after RED Demoman and BLU Soldier, and the Spys. Technically, it was more of an alliance for the spies). This was right before Redmond and Blutarch Mann were murdered, when RED Scout had suffered a serious bout of depression. It came out of nowhere and was so uncharacteristic of the energetic, happy-go-lucky guy, that she was still having a hard time believing it happened.

But it did, leading Scout to befriend BLU Engineer, who was mysteriously struck with the same affliction. Ironic, since both were endlessly killing each other a couple weeks before. He was fed up with the war and the flack he got from the other teammates for faltering alot in his duties.

However, within a few days, RED Scout and BLU Engineer were back to normal. Their camaraderie remained all through the Mann vs. Machine campaigns and the eventual demise of Gray Mann.

"I'm heading over to his quarters right now," Miss Pauling stated. "You can accompany me."

"Thank you, miss." The clone bowed his head sheepishly. His goggles were off, one of the few times she'd seen either Engineer without them. He had warm brown eyes.

"I'm sure he'll like those, Engie."

To her relief, RED Scout was glad to see his friend when she knocked on his door.

"Hey, Hardhat, long time no see!" Scout beamed.

"Howdy, pardner," BLU Engineer greeted, before looking both ways down the hall. "May I…come in?"

"Yeah, sure."

Both visitors stepped inside his room and closed the door.

"I brought yah some Tom Jones memorabilia and a signed Joe DiMaggio baseball," BLU Engineer held up the gifts. "Some music yah might want to listen to. It's blues and bossa nova."

"Sweet!" Scout was happy as he was handed over the gifts.

"Yah don't have to explain anything either," BLU Engineer said. "I may not understand completely what yer going through, but I can empathize."

Scout grew dismal. "Yeah, ya heard about that…"

"We'll find some way to restore yah back to a gentleman. I still don't care if yer voice is a tad high-pitched or if yah pee sittin' down now, yer still my friend. Ain't no judging in my book."

Scout's eyes grew poignant. "Th—thanks, Engie."

Miss Pauling was moved by the sincere declaration. Though they didn't have much in common, both mercenaries somehow managed to get along with eachother. Scout learned a thing or two about life from the older man, while BLU Engineer learned to relax, park his brains for awhile and have fun. Scout already had close friendships with Heavy (seen as another mentor), Pyro and even the standoffish Sniper.

"Scout, I also have some great news," Miss Pauling spoke up. "Spy has volunteered to be the 'Administrator' regarding the date with Merasmus."

He looked like Miss Pauling just spoke in tongues to him. "R—really?"

She nodded. "I think we have a chance of pulling it off. Once the deal is closed, Merasmus will remove the spell."

Atleast, she hoped so. It would be devastating if the sorcerer went back on his word, then they would all be back to square one.

"Why would Spy do that though?" Scout was bit skeptical.

"Face it, Scout, he does care for you," Miss Pauling insisted.

"Yeah well, he had a funny way of showin' it when I was growin' up."

"He's trying though." BLU Engineer let out a small chuckle. "Oh boy, he probably ain't gonna like every minute of it when it happens."

"Yeah, maybe I should bring an 8 mm camcorder and film the whole thing," Scout quipped, his mood starting to lighten up a bit.

"Yah could borrow one from me. Show me the video afterwards."

"Show everyone the video the afterwards."

"Guys!" Miss Pauling admonished. "Is that any way to treat a concerned father?"

Scout paused for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah! For family video memories."

She slapped his forearm, while he merely snickered.

"Well, hopefully this whole travesty will be over before we're dispatched to Bismark," BLU Engineer said. "The town's citizens are barely handling their hostage situation with the robot invaders. But I understand emergencies don't wait for anyone."

"Agreed," Miss Pauling then gave Scout a hug. "I'll leave you two to catch up on things. I gotta go let the Administrator know about Spy's ploy."

Later that evening, Zhanna met up with Miss Pauling in one of the recreational rooms.

"Little Pauling, I have heard the new proposal from sneaky man," she said, as she sat down with a cup of hot cocoa.

"Spy?"

"Da. My Soldier and I would like to volunteer on the mission."

Once again, she was warmed by the gesture. "Thanks, Zhanna, but I think we have more than enough troopers to pull it off."

"If you need extra hand, feel free to let us know."

"I will." It was time to meet up with Felicia and then retreat to her room for rest. Tomorrow was another busy day of getting their logistics in order for the trip to Bismark. Now, if only she could figure out who made that stupid dating ad.

                                                                                                             *   *   *

Somewhere, in the TF2 Freak world, two troublemakers – a psycho male and female Scout duo - were cackling at the dating ad they had sent to Merasmus and the Administrator.

"Haha, I get off on screwin' with their world," Armeni remarked.

Fiammetta smiled sadistically, and held up a glowing blue box. The image in its triangular screen showed the Administrator smoking away a cigarette in her central control room, suffering a migraine. "It's so satisfying to torture the old bag. Should we screw with one of the teams next?"

"Why not? I say BLU team."

Their gloating over the situation was interrupted by the doors busting open. Another Scout freak, Ass Pancakes, stood there welding his huge warhammer.

"AAAAH!" Fiammetta and Armeni cried.

"I am gonna mess you up!" Ass Pancakes declared.

His weapon glowed a luminous bright blue, sparks of electricity jolting all over it. Behind him, Medizard and Scoutit peaked over the side.

"Zo, ze criminal fugitives are at it again." The ice Medic tutted, shaking his head. "Vhen vill you two ever learn? Breaking zhe temporal lawz iz a big no-no."

He waved a finger at them. "Also, kindly give back my Oracle box."

"I suggest you listen to the wizaaaard," Scoutit sang-song.

Fiammetta began summoning her dark powers to manipulate time and space. She held up the box.

"Come and get it, Doc," she goaded.

Medizard sighed and with a lightning-fast reflex, he shot both miscreants with a ray of ice that instantly froze them. Ass Pancakes growled and was about to strike them with his warhammer when the doctor caught his arm.

"It vouldn't be fair to fight them now when zhey're defenseless, ja?" he reasoned.

"Armeni's still gonna pay for stealin' my Bonk drink," Ass Pancakes retorted.

Medizard went over to pry his Oracle box out of Fiammetta's hand, while Scoutit went up to the frozen Armeni with a sultry smile.

"It's not nice to cause havoc across another dimension," she stated with a tsk-tsk. "Now psycho boy, how about you and me bang?"

"Ah c'mon, Scoutit, that's gross," Ass Pancakes protested. " 'Sides, he's a bad guy. You shouldn't be boinkin' an enemy."

Scoutit was bit uncertain. "Well, it never stopped me before…"

"That's not the point!"

Suddenly, terrifyingly familiar gun-click noises pierced the air. A primal fear seized hold of Scoutit and Ass Pancakes when they heard them – no, no, no…!

Medizard recognized the sounds as well and groaned. Oh dear, not him again. Out of a dark hall, Painis Cupcake appeared and went up to the frozen Fiammetta and Armeni.

"I am Painis Cupcake! I will eat you!" the monstrous Soldier freak announced, along with his creepy signature smile.

Ass Pancakes and Scoutit let out horrified shrieks and ran away. They busted through a wooden wall of the building, streaks of the afternoon sun rays pouring in. Armeni and Fiammetta also broke out of their icicle enclosures, screaming and dashing through the gouged out wall as well.

Painis proceeded to follow them. Nothing would get in his way of devouring the villainous Scout duo.

Medizard was stunned for a moment, before looking down at his retrieved magical possession.

"Ah well, atleast zhe cannibal menace vill keep zhem occupied for awhile. Also, I really need to work on reducing Scoutit's insane libido. Some males in this world don't need a potential rapist on zheir hands."

Chapter Text

Miss Pauling was squinting into a pair of binoculars as she and RED femScout observed the date between Merasmus and the RED Spy, who was currently disguised as The Administrator, from a nearby park. It was a bit nippy for an early afternoon, and both were crouched under a tree with a few evergreen bushes that kept them partially hidden.

Spy had suggested a favorite diner in Teufort, which just so happened to be the only French restaurant in town. The wizard didn’t mind, as he was too enthralled with the ‘Administrator’ to object for even a second on their choice of cuisine.

“Come on, let’s get closer,” Scout urged, though Pauling noticed there was a hint of mischief.

She sighed, figuring it might be more effective. The loud chainsaw buzzing from nearby workers cutting down trees was woefully distracting.

“Fine, but whatever you have planned, Bonk Boy, it better not interfere with the mission.”

“Who, moi? Never. I just want a better look at the two lovebirds gettin' to know each other on their sweet, wholesome date.”

Miss Pauling snorted. “Surree. You just want to gloat over seeing how uncomfortable Spy is dealing with an ancient ol’ geezer trying to put the moves on him.”

Scout wore a mock innocent expression. “Do ya think I’d be that cruel? He may be my absentee, deadbeat father, but atleast he’s goin’ out of his way doin’ this for me. I appreciate that. Besides, the minute they close the deal, I wanna be there so that honker-nosed wizard can change me back.”

 “Okay, whatever. Let’s just keep out of sight so he doesn’t see us. And please don’t trip again in those oversized pants. You nearly broke my glasses taking me down to the ground with you.”

“Sorry sweetcheeks, I ain’t messin’ up again.”

“I still think you should have worn something more suitable.”

“Hey, don’t diss my signature outfit. Besides, when I get changed back into a guy, I’ll be in the appropriate clothing.”

“You look like an anorexic girl in those big clothes!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do!”

“No, I don--"

Just then, they heard the loud, distinct snaps of several branches. Realizing where the sound came from, both looked up and—

“AAAAHH!!!”

Two blue-clad bodies fell out of the tree and landed right on top of them.

“ACHH! What the hell, man!” Scout protested, feeling like his whole body was being used as a couch.

“Oh, uh…sorry ‘about dat,” a familiar voice came.

Miss Pauling recognized who it was but couldn’t speak nor turn her head at the moment, as it was buried face-first in the grassy ground. She flailed her arms and legs around in irritation, the weight of the gas-masked person’s body bearing painfully down on her.

“Uhh, Pyro, I think you better get off Miss Pauling,” BLU Scout spoke up. “You’re suffocatin’ her with your hand.”

“Mphhr shchorry,” BLU Pyro apologized.

“How about you get your freakin’ ass off me, numbnuts?” Scout snapped.

“Oops, didn’t mean to squish your boobies. I keep forgettin’ you're a chick now.” The clone got off his RED counterpart’s back, while his Pyro did the same with the assistant.

“You damn asshats! What the hell are you doin’ here?” Scout’s eyes flared angrily.

Miss Pauling crawled into a sitting position, realizing that the frames of her glasses were broken and one of the lenses was cracked. Immediately, she felt her face for any cuts and blood, but amazingly found none.

“We came here to offer moral support,” BLU Scout explained. “And uh, to lend an extra hand if you needed it.”

“We’re doin’ fine without any more help,” Scout retorted. He stood up, dusting off the dirt and grass from his clothing.

“How long have you been up there?” Miss Pauling demanded, indicating the tree.

“For a while now. Pyro and I are trying to be more like dad—I mean, our Spy. That’s why we were up the tree, mouths shut and outta sight while you two were still blatherin’ away about the date. So, we thought we’d surprise you.”

The slip-up about BLU Spy didn’t go unnoticed by Scout. “Now you’re callin’ that lyin’ rat bastard your daddy?”

“Yeah, so? He is my dad, even though we’re clones of you and the other lyin’ rat bastard. I mean, he's pretty cool.”

“Tch, really,” Scout scoffed.

“He taught me how to use his balisong, Spycicle, “ BLU Scout boasted. “I’m more stealthy and deadly in battle learnin’ the tricks from him. I even stol—uh, borrowed one of his Disguise Kits and went around as the RED Heavy with his Sasha startlin’ the Bejesus outta my team at the base! It was fun while it lasted. My Soldier blew me to chunks afterwards with his rocket thingy and I respawned.”

RED Scout showed a bit of amusement with a slight curl of his lip, but other than that, couldn’t shake off his disdain for spies. “Take my advice, slugger, and find some other mentor. Spies are backstabbin’ scum who’ll betray you over a quarter.”

“Hey, he’s not exactly your Spy,” BLU Scout argued. “He’s never doublecrossed me…um, well, except that one time playin’ Twister. I swear he tickled my foot just so I could fall and throw the game…maybe he cheated in Blackjack too…anyhow, he actually likes havin’ a bit of fun. We hang out together from time to time.”

Well, BLU Scout had some justification. Both he and BLU Spy weren’t exactly like their original counterparts. Plus, they didn’t have a family drama history with each other.

“Oh, I'm sooo ecstatic for you and the baguette freak," Scout remarked sarcastically, before tugging at Miss Pauling's arm. "C'mon, let's go over there now."

Miss Pauling turned to the others. “If you guys want to help, then keep quiet! We don’t want to botch up this critical mission.” She leveled a finger at BLU Pyro. “And you owe me some new glasses. I’ll see it comes out of your next paycheck.”

With that, she and Scout took off across the street.

“He’s still ain’t takin’ it well,” BLU Scout observed as they followed the duo a moment later.

“Mphhr hpphrr,” BLU Pyro replied.

“Yeah, I thought so. Still, I feel bad for Jeremy. A part of me don’t blame her for wantin' to bash the brains outta a selfish prick who abandoned her.”

“Shmee itha heetht,” the arsonist pointed out.

“Oops! Jeez, I keep slippin’ up. I mean he. But anyhow, holdin’ a grudge for long just ain’t in my nature. So, I say the two should work it out. I’m sure his dad feels rotten to the core about it.”

“Hhoh hmphh mrrphhe ahadaa.”

“Yeah, I’ll give him credit for that. Maybe if his dad humiliates himself enough times for him, Jeremy’ll change his mind.”

“Mhohh surhhh hump, dhiihh gghoohh.”

“Nah, RED Spy sacrificed himself plenty of times savin’ him in battle. I saw it when we were fightin’ their team and the robots.”

“Mophh ikn mpphrr harumphh.”

“Uh, that be pretty drastic. I don’t think he wants to jump in front of a train and get mangled to death just to prove he’s sorry. Even if Jeremy tells him to. There are other ways to atone for your sins, Firebug.”

Blu Pyro gestured with their arms in a shrug. “Howth boushh hohpeh mpprhh mppehh?”

“What? No!” BLU Scout was aghast. “Where’d you even get that idea?? You don’t use a zucchini as penance to stick it in—okay, we’re done with this conversation, pally.”

He looked away in disgust, focused on reaching Miss Pauling and RED Scout, who had already settled near some Hydrangea bushes to survey the date from one of the restaurant windows.

*    *   *

RED Spy tried not to squirm too much as he sat across from Merasmus, as both were assessing what to order from their menus. The food establishment wasn’t too shabby for his taste; it was posh enough with insolite corral rug, chestnut baroque wall trimmings, a miniature replica of the Fontaine Louvois in the middle of the room, and alabaster statues of historical figures, as well as doves or cherub angels on Ionic pedestals or centered on the tables.

Of course, its walls were adorned with the usual pictures of the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre Museum and…oh…

How unexpected… Spy thought, noticing one large painting that stood out, which was of King Louis XVI getting beheaded by a guillotine during the Reign of Terror.

Pretty gruesome…but a novel idea.

“My dear, I find that silver streak in your hair to be quite a turn on,” the wizard cooed, eyes half-lidded in limerence.

Spy forced a pleasant smile. “Do you now? I’m flattered, Mr. Merasmus.”

“Oh, spare the ridiculous formalities. After hearing it for nearly six millennia, I greatly tire of such a frivolous title. Merasmus will do fine.”

A young French waitress strolled up to their table. “Bon après-midi, are you ready to take your order?”

“Oui,” Spy spoke, glancing down the menu. “I’ll have the Cuisses de Grenouille, with a side of Escargot…but leave out any vegetables. I despise the little shits! I would also like a glass of Pinot Grigio.”

She wrote it down, as Merasmus frowned at ‘The Administrator’s’ vile reaction to vegetables. He was a devoted vegetarian and to hear his date insulting such sacred food that gave life to everything on this planet was suddenly unnerving.

“Alright, and what will you have?”

Merasmus snapped out of his discomfort. “Ah yes! I’ll have a Salade au chèvre chaud along with a glass of Merlot.”

The waitress then took the menus. “Merci, please expect a twenty-minute wait.”

After she left, the wizard turned to Spy. “You pronounce French very well. Are you fluent in it?”

The RED mercenary had already come up with feasible backstory. “Oh yes, I spent part of my teenage years in France. I grew enamored with the culture, so I decided to learn the language and stay there for a couple more years.”

“Ah, that explains your affinity for the Romance culture.” He inwardly took a deep breath, dreading the next question. “May I ask why you…don’t like vegetables?”

Spy shrugged. “They taste like utter garbage. Especially carrots, broccoli, salad, potatoes and leeks. My parents use to torture me by forcing them down my throat at meal times.”

Merasmus was quite taken aback. Surely, the poor lady didn’t have that bad of an abusive childhood?

“That is quite horrendous. Is that why you hate them?”

“Yes,” Spy gave a terrible grin. “But don’t worry, I ran away from home when I was 13. I wasn’t going to let them abuse me any further just because they brought me into this world. Besides, I firmly believe that humans are pure carnivores by nature. That’s where we get most of our energy from anyway…not from some disgusting little plant or root pulled out from the ground. Leave that to the dumb herbivores.”

This was beginning to put off the wizard more – but only a bit. His strong infatuation with ‘The Administrator’ still outweighed any revulsion he felt at dating a hardcore meat-eater.

Spy then pulled out a lighter to smoke a cigarette, as a younger waiter approached them. The former recognized it was the BLU Spy in disguise.

“How are you compatriots doing?” he amiably inquired, then turned to the ‘The Administrator.’ “Oh Helen Furias! I didn’t recognize you for a moment with that Dollar Store wig on! I have a few myself.” He feigned a pleasant gasp. “And did you get a new nose? I recall the last one fell off during the Annual Hog Race. That gaping hole in your face gave the spectators quite a scare."

Spy gritted his teeth, irate. “Nooo…you must have mistaken me for someone else.”

The waiter waved it off, laughing. “Oh, don’t be so shy about it, Ma Cherie!” He turned to Merasmus. “The vice president of TF Industries – she’s always so humble about her stunning looks.” Glancing back at RED Spy, he added, “There’s no shame in setting back the time on your aging physique. How are those butt implants holding up? The last I heard you had a hard time sitting down on those wrinkly, sagging cheeks!”

“I’m fine, thank you very much,” Spy replied tightly.

Damn it, you imbecile! You’re supposed to be covering for me, not embarrassing me!

“Tell me about it sometime, mademoiselle.” BLU Spy did a mock bow. “Well, you adorable couple holler if you need my services.” There was a devious twinkle in his eye, before turning to the wizard again. “Such a ravishing beauty you got here. She’s a keeper for sure.”

He let out a sultry cat meow and scurried off, cheerily calling out to some other customers before Spy could utter a rebuke. He straightened up and turned to Merasmus with an awkward smile.

“He’s such an annoyance sometimes; doesn’t know when to keep out of people’s business.”

But the necromancer only gazed at Spy with ever-growing lust in his eyes. “Oh, I believe he has the right idea.”

The fake woman let out a nervous laugh. “Is that so?”

“Tell me, my dear…if not vegetables, what do you like?”

Alright, here goes…

“Well, it’s a little-known rock that you might have heard of,” Spy began. “Do know what Australium is?”

*    *   *

On the other side of town, the Administrator was making her way to a clothing store. She wasn’t going to miss the Purple Dress sale that was going on. She discreetly wore formal slacks, a blouse and coat, along with a debonair hat to hide her face. She thought of using one of the disguise kits from the Spies; unfortunately, it didn’t work on people who had Australium in their system for so long.

Something about the chemical properties from the rock not meshing well with elements of the cloaking electronics. She had earlier met up with the RED Spy in briefing him about the mission in their bargain with the wizard; this included mannerisms and talking nonstop about nothing but Australium. That was sure to stop a second date dead in its tracks.

Across the street, a children’s play was being put on at a local park. She thought she heard a familiar masculine voice a few times over there, but she was too far away to make out what he was saying.

Just then, a few costumed actors from the play crossed the street to the shopping center. She noted they looked a bit distressed. Brushing it off, she turned back to checking out one of the violet dresses in the window.

“Administrator?”

Freezing at the familiar voice, she whirled around and was taken aback. “Miss Pauling?”

The assistant wore a sapphire blue dress, with puffed out sleeves and a flared white collar. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose bun. A pair of gaudy blue earrings dangled from her ears.

“No, it’s me, Felicia.”

The older woman blinked, looking her up and down. “What are you doing here, in such a flamboyant attire?”

“Oh, this? I’m playing Snow White at the theater across the street!” she pointed to a temporary stage platform that was set up at the local park. A swarm of about 60 people were seated, most of them parents with their children.

“Oh, that’s lovely and all, but please don’t bring up the issue about a raise—gahh!”

The Administrator was startled when the clone grabbed her arm. “Look, I need your help! One of our actresses just croaked and now we can’t continue with the play! But you’re perfect for the part! Will you fill in the role?”

“Absolutely not!” the older woman wriggled out of Felicia’s grip. “I’m doing some shopping, and I can’t be bothered by such trivial matters. Find someone else.”

She turned to walk away, but Felicia flung herself at the woman, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Oh please, please consider it,” she fretfully begged. “We’re going to let a lot of children down! And rabid soccer moms! And BBQ football-crazed dads! And cats and dogs, and a dead hamster one cat's mouth, a pet tarantula! Umm, some weird people too...one of them keeps repeating ‘The cake is a lie, the cake is a lie’ and I think another one is a pedophile and so we gotta call the police, but anyhow, the show must go on!”

“Like I said, find someone else,” the Administrator seethed. “Now, let go of me, you foolish girl. You’re going to give people here the wrong idea!”

“It’s only one last act left!” Felicia sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “And the theater director is going to give us a Saxton Hale Gen 4 Australium award after the show!”

“Stop your sniveling—wait, did you just say Australium?”

The young woman nodded, her makeup now a mess from the tears. The Administrator thought back to the legendary Generation 4 statuettes. It’s well known they were crafted for the CEO and that he adorned the most potent of the Australium specimens into a miniature version of his hands on each figurine.

She had to have it. Quickly changing her tune, she perked up, “Oh! Well, uhhh…whose awarding you such a magnificent gift?”

The assistant now released the older woman, straightening up. "It's Mann Co. Mr. Bidwell told me that Mr. Hale didn't want the statuettes anymore and was going to toss them in the dumpster. So, Mr. Bidwell salvaged them and is donating them to thrift stores, pawn shops, and charities. He's going to give it to us as an incentive for our performance. I got the scoop from the actor in the poisoned apple costume."

Wait, there was someone who actually played the bad apple? That didn't make a lick of sense. At this point, the Administrator wasn't surprised anymore, given how loopy the townspeople could be.

“So yeah, he’s got several lined up,” Felicia finished.

Is that so? Well, lucky for the wretched old woman. If that overly-testosterone meathead didn’t want his prizes anymore, she would gladly take them.

“Alright…but are you certain it’s for one more act?”

“Yes! Will you help brighten up a lot of families’ day with gracing your powerful presence to finish the play?”

The Administrator rubbed her hands together. “Why, of course! I won’t pass up such an amazing opportunity to be in an award-winning play sponsored by the infamous, sexist, shady Mann Co. What role will I be playing?”

“The Evil Queen…well, now she’s an old hag, so you’ll need to wear a witch hat, a wig and a hideous nose piece.”

“Oh, delightful…” the other woman groaned.

Another actress dressed in a deer costume ran up to them, distressed. “Oh Felicia, I’m freaking out! Bertha is dead and we don’t have an Evil Queen now! How are we going to continue with the play?”

“Terri? Meet our new Evil Queen.” Felicia stepped aside, happily presenting the Administrator.

Terri’s eyes lit up. “Oh perfect! Vice President of TF Industries, I didn’t know you did theater!”

“It’s been a long time.” The Administrator was suddenly craving a cigarette. Sure, her parents put her in plays as a child and she even dabbled a bit as a teenager, but quite frankly, she never got bitten by the acting bug.

“Well, come along, we must start the show,” Terri urged.

Felicia beamed at the Administrator as they headed toward the park. “You won’t regret this, ma’am! We’re going to make a lot of kids happy!”

“Indeed.” The older woman forced a superficial smile. Forget those little brats, I’m getting that Australium award!

Chapter Text

Merasmus gazed at Spy/The Administrator as "she" was dipping a garlic roll in butter and neatly eating it. The wizard was lost in thought over “her “sumptuous lips.

“My dear, you do have the most adorable face when you’re eating,” the wizard complimented. He leaned over to grab Spy’s other hand, brushing a finger against it.

Spy smiled tightly, immediately slapping Merasmus’s hand away.

“Pressing on the gas pedal a little too much now, are we?” Spy said with mock courtesy.

Realizing his unsavory mistake, Merasmus replied, “Ah-heh…my apologies. It’s just that I never met someone so icily lovely with a touch of poison on the tip of such… luscious lips; a danger intertwined in a ruthless personality with vile eyes the color of a dead, overcast sky. I’m sure you’ve gotten many a man’s attention over the years.”

All Spy could do was cringe inwardly. The wizard’s speech was worse than hearing RED Scout read his attempts at writing poetry for Miss Pauling or a drunken, slurring Demoman trying to recite a church prayer.

Clearing his throat, Spy said, “Indeed, I have. But just because they admired me doesn’t mean they could touch me like I was some dog to pet. That’s earned through respect and a budding relationship.”

“Ah, how could I have been so remiss?” Merasmus agreed, not taking his starstruck eyes off the disguised mercenary. “Cultivating mutual interest is a priority before the physical aspect of it. Perhaps your waiter friend inadvertently stoked my interest a bit further with his flattery of you.”

Spy was certainly going to give his BLU counterpart an earful for not sticking to the plan. The other Spy seemed to be enjoying his awkward situation a little too much. The things a father will do to get his son back to normal…

“Yes, well, he can be bit too enthusiastic about such things.” After quickly finishing off the roll, he turned to the wizard, a devious glint in his eye. “I’d like to know…have you ever had an Australium prune shake?”

Merasmus was a tad puzzled. “I don’t believe I have.”

The wizard was distracted by a waiter passing by, pushing a cartful of whole, baked bullfrogs on a white platter and he recoiled in disgust.

Accursed meat-eating savages! He thought scathingly. A pity my powers won’t allow me to fumigate the entire planet from them!

“Well, it involves grinding the metal into dust and combining three heaping tablespoons in a puree of prunes and ice,” Spy went on with a cheerful pretense. “Then you add some gin and clamato juice. A marvelous cocktail involving my favorite fruit, but you could add any kind you like. You should try it sometime.”

Merasmus mulled over it. It sounded familiar, being as he sometimes combined the elements of alchemy and food together in his countless list of magic concoctions. Before his interest piqued further, Spy interrupted his thoughts when he added, “Now, let me tell you about the time I had ten Australium bars smelted into a black widow statue for my mint collection display…”

“Oh, uh, another story about the ore?” Merasmus asked, growing wary.

Spy smiled, eyes alight with an insincere excitement. “I’m just full of them. It’s my one and only obsession in the world.”

“You don’t have any other interests?”

“Who needs them when you have Australium?”

Meanwhile, outside the restaurant…

RED FemScout and Miss Pauling had managed to hide among some Privet bushes by one of the side windows. They had a pretty good view of the date taking place, although Scout kept sneezing.

“Bad allergies?” she asked.

“Yeah, must be these flowers over here,” they replied, wiping their nose.

“We could move over to the other window just left of you.”

“Nah, I ain’t gonna let some dumb flower stop me from gettin’ this good view here,” Scout rebuked. “They’re too far from the other window.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Pauling remarked.

Movement caused her to turn to see BLU Scout and BLU Pyro scurry into the bushes beside them.

“Get lost, numbnuts,” RED Scout snapped. “I told ya we don’t need any help!”

While BLU Pyro looked a bit hurt and lowered their head, BLU Scout smirked. “Not even with this?”

He held up a small, 8mm camcorder. RED Scout remembered that he forgot to ask BLU Engineer about packing one for their trip to Tuefort in filming Spy’s date. RED Scout tried to hide his pleasant surprise with an air of indifference.

“Eh, whatever, I guess.”

Miss Pauling was aghast. “You’re not going to film the date and make fun of Spy later about it, are you?”

“Who said anything about mocking him with it? I need, uh, evidence just in case…sexual embarrassment,” RED Scout explained. “You never know, Merasmus could, uh…pretend the carrot on his plate is somethin’ nasty, ya know…”

“It’s sexual harassment, not embarrassment,” Pauling corrected. “And stop lying, Scout. You’re getting back at him because you still got some lingering daddy issues.”

He bristled. “That ain’t true! Really!”

“Mmm-hhmm.” Miss Pauling nonchalantly examined one of her fingernails. “How’s that nose growing for you, Pinocchio?”

“Well even if he recorded it, how will anyone ever know it’s actually Spy?” BLU Scout interjected. “To the naked eye, it’s just the crochety ol’ Administrator out on a date with the resident evil sorcerer who wants to snuff out both teams like we were some puss-filled boil on his back.”

“Mphhsgh hnpggsgg hurmmp,” BLU Pyro dryly remarked.

“Yeah, but there are ways to sway him,” BLU Scout countered, smiling deviously. “After all, RED Soldier is his one true nemesis. I’m sure Merasmus ain’t capable of turnin’ down an offer or negotiation by the other mercs if it’ll suit his needs. Sometimes, ya gotta do the bendin’ for a difficult, potential client.”

“Gimme that!” RED Scout snatched the camcorder from his BLU counterpart and began filming his dad and the wizard.

 “Uh, you’re welcome?” BLU Scout responded, a bit annoyed.

“Think about what you’re doing,” Pauling protested. “I thought you and Spy worked all this out during the robot invasions.”

“I agree, Jerema,” BLU Scout threw in, before catching his mistake. “Sorry, I mean, Jeremy.” He muttered under his breath, “Remember, she’s really a guy, not a chick! A guy!”

Perking up, he continued , “Anyhow, it’s gonna take a while for you guys to really come to terms. So uh, you are goin’ to use it as evidence against Mr. Witch Man in case he tries anythin’ funny, right?”

RED Scout merely grinned while continuing to film. “Of course, ya dummy. Just because I don’t show love outwardly to my asshole dad doesn’t mean I don't care somethin' for him. This is my way of lookin’ out for him.”

“Whatever you say, Crit-a-Boy,” Miss Pauling grumbled.

The crowd was getting a bit restless as the last act of the play hadn’t started for over forty-five minutes now. Zhanna blew a strand of hair out of her face, growing tired of staring at the empty stage; she and Soldier had remained seated in their chairs amid a group of doting parents and their kids – half of them were getting antsy without the show’s final act to sate their entertainment needs. The Russian had decided to come just to relive the nostalgia of the childhood fairytale, as Heavy used to read it to her back in Siberia. Soldier was uninterested but came along anyway just to eat at an A&W restaurant.

Zhanna turned to Soldier, concerned. “Aren’t they taking a lot of time to start next act?”

“They are probably on a piss break. Must be a long line to the restroom.”

Her attention was then diverted to a crusty old lady who looked every bit the stereotypical grandma: short pouffe of white hair, glasses, wrinkly and skinny and wearing a shawl over her shoulders to keep her warm. She was knitting a foot warmer from a ball of light brown yarn.

“That is crafty work you have there,” she complimented.

The senior lady looked up with a warm, accommodating smile. “Why thank you, dear child. I’m making it for my grandson. He’s playing one of the dwarves in the show.”

“Which one?”

“Bashful.”

“That is shy one, right?”

“Yes. Quite a talented little actor, bless his heart.”

Next to RED Engineer sat Olivia Mann, whom he had adopted not long after Gray Mann’s death. Given that she was illegally placed as CEO of Mann Co., her position with the corporation was nullified by an appellate court, deeming her unfit for the job due to not being obsessed with bonus raises for herself every fiscal quarter. Amazingly, one district judge had enough common sense to point out that she was ridiculously too young to be running a company.  

Since Engineer’s family had a lengthy history going back to the Mann brothers and their father, it seemed fated that generations of the Conaghers would always be intertwined with their employer/benefactors. The Texan had unexpectedly developed a paternal fondness for the precocious little girl; and in turn, she gravitated towards him because of what he specialized in.

Like him, she had an interest in technology and all things mechanical, whether it was taking apart an analog alarm clock or tracing the direction of an electric current on a schematic. She even liked to build things, often pestering him in his laboratory about all his various machines and gadgets.

He found himself slowly spending more time with her and explaining each of his inventions, even when she couldn’t quite grasp the more complicated information that delved into electrical engineering theory, physics and mind-boggling formulas. Net yet, anyway.

She did show signs of being a tinkerer herself one day; she had an extraordinary memory and the ability to store information as Dell himself did. She was capable of using abstract concepts and problem solving, exceeding her grade-school peers. Being away from Gray’s sinister influence also brought out a softer side of her personality; she was more curious and less ornery, but still used to getting her way sometimes. That’s when Engineer had to be firm and continually remind her that’s just not how life worked.

“I want another cotton candy again,” Olivia stated, pointing toward a man passing out treats from a nearby vendor cart.

Speaking of which…

This time, he decided to relent since she had been well-behaved. “Alright, only because ya’ll haven’t reached your sugar limit today.”

“No, I’m saving it for one of my experiments later on,” she corrected. “I might use some in a science project for school.”

Engineer remembered the overzealous nature of how Soldier felt about food and treats with American origins being subjected to “evil, un-Godlike horror” – none other than experiments of a scientific nature. But before he could warn Olivia to not say anymore, Soldier suddenly piped up.

“Little miss, that is no way to treat a precious commodity!” Soldier chided, wagging a finger at her. “Desecrating an American treasure for the Devil’s work is tantamount to the greatest sin on Earth!”

Olivia wrinkled her nose, confused. “Science is the Devil’s work?”

“It is if you are using Americans!”

Engineer inwardly groaned and protested, knowing he was going to lose this argument anyway. “But it ain’t even alive, Soldier. It’s just a sweet made outta spun sugar and food coloring.”

“It is AMERICAN, not ‘not alive.’ How could you be so impassive about it? Were you not taught in your Rebel hick town about protecting the cotton candy legacy left by our forefathers?”

If Soldier could see Engineer’s eyes through his dark goggles, they’d be rolled way back in his head. Given that he was used to Soldier’s superior Yankee attitude, he also chose to ignore that irritating jab to his Southern pride. Now was not the time for an argument, as he wanted to make sure Olivia had a good time.

“I suppose mah town never caught wind of those sacred values. Doesn’t mean I can’t learn’em.” When he saw Soldier bare his teeth in disapproval, he added, “Sir.”

“You’d do well to not to piss all over their graves, Lieutenant!”

After Soldier turned away, Engineer leaned over to Olivia and whispered, “We’re still gettin' one for your experiment, honey. Soldier ain’t always right. His beliefs are just…different from everybody else’s.”

Olivia beamed at hearing the good news. Beside her, a familiar girl with red braided pigtails was returning from a bathroom break with her dad. Olivia was glad because the girl’s brother was being obnoxious, pretending his corn dog was something explicit while the mom was being a loud motormouth, talking nonstop to another parent without even catching a breath.

“Oh good, I didn’t miss anything,” Carly, the redhead, remarked. “I wanna see that ugly witch meanie get what she deserves. It’s my favorite part of the show. Plus, Miss Pauling is going to get kissed by the Prince!”

Olivia furrowed her brows at the mention of the purple-clad secretary. She’d only seen Pauling a handful of times, not counting the ones where Gray Mann was vilifying her on a projection screen at Mann Co. headquarters: a killer, a traitor to their company and a right-hand woman to his arch nemesis, The Administrator.

She also couldn’t see Pauling as the type who’d spent time on children’s activities, like participating in theater. Except, Olivia didn’t know that it wasn’t the Administrator’s assistant on the stage. She and Carly were confusing Pauling with Felicia.

“Hmmm, she usually seems busy running all over the place where I live with my guardian and telling secret stuff to him and his friends,” Olivia observed. “I think she might be some kind of government agent.”

“What’s a government agent?”

“It’s someone who works for the government and keeps a lot of secrets.”

Carly was astounded. “Ohhh, I see! She’s not a gossip girl! She doesn’t go around blabbering out other peoples’ secrets. I didn’t know that could be a job!”

“Uhh, something like that…”

Meanwhile, backstage…

Felicia stepped back to evaluate the Evil Queen costume for The Administrator. The older woman was dressed in a hooded black robe, a gray wig of long, scraggly hair and a fake pointy nose.

The dwarves were played by actors while the adults played the forest animals and other human characters. The Administrator was going over the script for the third time, having not touched one in over 100 years.

“I can’t believe my death involves tripping over a dead raccoon while I walk away from poisoning Snow White,” she grumbled.

“Well, we’re not exactly copying the Disney movie,” Felicia explained, “Mr. Howard wants to put his own spin on the story. Originally, we were going to have the dwarves just insult the Evil Queen until she dropped dead from all the verbal abuse.”

“Another scenario was having her choke on an apple piece,” Terri added. “Then the Queen would lay down and die, but not before telling Snow White that the Prince is proudly gay.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense!" The Administrator disapproved.

“We wanted to put in a socially relevant message," Felicia replied, beaming. “You know, to recognize marginalized groups in this country. Prince Charming swinging the other way? Genius.” She then sighed, slumping her shoulders. “But it’s a children’s show, so Mr. Howard said no. We’re still saving the scene for the adult version on Saturday.”

Terri was now looking sad, shaking her head. “Poor, poor Bertha. Maybe if she had stayed in the porn industry, she would still be alive today.”

“Yeah, her heart gave out to the Grimm Fairy Tale curse.” Felicia’s eyes became misty and poignant. “It’s never the drugs. Always the curse.” She turned to Terri. “Has the ambulance arrived yet to take the body away?”

“No, Bertha is still on the ground. I told the kids she’s just sleeping.”

The director, Mr. Howard, had just arrived on the stage platform. “They better get here soon, or it’ll start smelling.” After briefly surveying all the cast members, he perked up with a superficial smile. “But as we all know, the show must go on. Now hurry up and get those little brats in here so we can continue the play! One of them keeps poking at Bertha’s corpse!”

Several minutes later, all the actors took their places on the platform, amidst a matte forest background and accessory props of artificial logs and rocks. The dwarves’ cabin, no bigger than the size of an average tree house, was shoddily erected on the left side of the stage. It looked like it had been constructed in a hurry with its thatched roof ready to buckle inward.

The stage curtains parted, and Mr. Howard stepped forward, smiling brightly at the audience.

“Ladies, gentleman, and kiddies, dogs, cats, freaks and uh, suspicious-looking adults that keep hanging around the kids - we apologize for the delay. We had a certain…mishap. But all is good now, let’s continue on to the last act! Enjoy now, enjoy now!”

Hastily clapping his hands, he backed away from the center platform, and introduced the assembled cast.

“Pretty purple lady!” Carly waved at Felisha, once again confusing her for Miss Pauling.

Zhanna squinted at the Evil Queen. “What happened to old witch? Why does she look like she lost 100 pounds?”

Soldier was stumped for a moment. "Holy Moses's ratty red robe! She must be on the Atkin's diet!"

"What is that?"

"The most famous weight loss program in the world. You can lose a pound in under 30 seconds."

"Really? To lose all that flubber so fast?" Now Zhanna was intrigued.

"Affirmative."

“Wow! Is incredible! It must have come from Australia.”

“Nope, it is American,” Soldier boasted with a grin.

Taking in a deep breath, The Administrator got into her role. It was the moment when Snow White took the poisoned apple and bit it.

The actor in the apple costume came forward to Felicia. “Don’t I look delicious to you, maiden?”

“Oh, yes! I will now take a bite of this juicy man, I mean, apple that’s not a man in a costume!” Felicia replied, licking her lips. “Mmmm-mmmm!”

She proceeded to bite one side of the red material of the costume and looked disgusted, turning around to spit out the fiber hairs.

The Administrator was next in saying her line, uttering with malicious intent, “Yes, yes, that’s it! Indulge in this delectable treat, child! Eat it!”

After a few seconds passed, Felicia put a hand against her head. “Oh, I…I feel funny. Light-headed.”

She proceeded to walk around in a drunken state, while the “Evil Queen” watched with insidious delight.

“Oh no, what’s happening with Snow White?” one of the deer actors asked.

“Maybe it’s an Apple Martini,” a rabbit actor suggested. “One drink can really get you wasted.”

“She should have started off with Gin and tonic instead,” a chipmunk actor remarked.

Felicia collapsed to the ground, and that was The Administrator’s cue to proceed to cackle out loud. Next to Olivia, Carly cowered and hid her face in her father’s jacket.

“No, no, she killed Snow White! She’s so scary!” the girl whimpered.

“BWAHAHAHAAA! I did it!” the Administrator announced in her smokey, deep voice.

All the animal actors gasped and began fretting over Snow White, while a crow actor remarked, “Yep, I knew it. That Martini, man. Should have gone for 6% alcohol.”

“No, you idiots!” The Administrator sneered. “I killed her! And there’s nothing you can do about it, TEHHEEEHEEE!”

Inwardly, the older woman cringed. This better be worth sacrificing all of my dignity. That Australium is going to be MINE!

“Now that the fake brunette is dead, I am the REAL BRUNETTE of them all! Take that, you dumb blondies!” The Administrator turned to haughtily strut away but paused when she saw no dead raccoon on the stage. Where was the animal’s corpse that she was supposed to trip over?

Okay, what do I do now? Where’s the rodent?

“Ooops!” Terri noticed the missing prop and furiously signaled for one of the assistants offstage. She silently mouthed out, ‘raccoon.’

The stagehand immediately understood, and quickly went to go find it. It was an awkward moment for The Administrator standing there, frozen in place without any cues to continue. So, she just decided to belt out another evil, witchy cackle, which freaked out Carly even more.

“Daddy, she’s so creepy!” the little girl whined in distress.

“Don’t worry, pumpkin, she’s just insecure trash who feels sorry for herself because Snow White’s getting all the attention,” her father replied. “Think of it like how Bette Davis and Joan Crawford hated each other.”

Luckily, the lifeless raccoon was tossed on the floor a minute later. Even from a distance, Olivia could’ve sworn it was a real one. The Administrator pretended to trip over it, stumble forward and die. Several of the actors and audience members snickered, but in that moment, the older woman paid them no attention. Her mind was back in the past, to her teenage years and vying for that tantalizing power of Australium…

Just like the olden days on the stage…I may not have been the best actress; or what dear mommy and daddy wanted of me, but when it came to that precious, precious metal, I did it all for that. It is my god, my life, my…addiction…

The chipmunk actor scurried over to the dead Queen and sniffed her. He then turned to the others, casually stating, “Yeah, the old bag’s a goner.”

Soldier suddenly leapt up, raising a fist in the air. “Wayda go, my critter-in-arms! You are a true patriot in taking out the Queen with that tactical precision strike!”

“Dagnabbit Soldier, sit down!” Engineer whispered.

“JUST LIKE WITH THE DIRECT HIT! THE ENEMY HAS FALLEN AND THE RACCOON INFANTRY HAS SECURED THE VICTORY! UP YOUR WRINKLY ASS, YOU DIRTY MARXIST WITCH!”

“Yeah!” someone in the crowd agreed. “The poor animal threw itself in front of the Queen and gave up its life!”

“The roadkill is the true hero of the story!” another one piped up.

“YOU ARE AN AMERICAN INDEED,” Soldier continued hollering and vigorously clapped while Engineer covered up one of his ears, trying to scoot away from the crazed military man. “LIEUTENANT BITES WOULD BE PROUD! I SALUTE YOU, FELLOW WARRIOR!”

One veteran father wiped a tear from his eye. “That was so wholesome.” He stood up and announced to the crowd. “Let’s hear it for the raccoon corpse! A brave trooper to the end!”

Most of the crowd proceeded to clap and cheer. Zhanna smiled and stood up, joining her lover in heartily celebrating the Queen’s demise. Even Carly started clapping, and gently elbowed Olivia to do the same. The dark-haired girl was hesitant, not seeing what the big deal was.

Carly’s brother wasn’t impressed, folding his arms. “Too bad the raccoon didn’t bite her and give her rabies.”

Off-stage, Mr. Howard surveyed the scene with confusion. “This isn’t part of the act.” Thinking it over for a moment, he then shrugged. “Oh well, as long I’m getting the money from this show.”

Chapter Text

Engineer should have known that Soldier was be trouble in a public setting. He was the smartest guy in the team, so all possible scenarios as well as their contingent actions should have been meticulously reviewed before even setting foot at this outdoor theater with such a legally insane man and his poor, grossly misguided girlfriend.

Except, as sharp as he was supposed to be, Engie still had those rare moments where he simply ‘missed a step.’ Even the most talented gymnast will clumsily land sometimes after a spectacular acrobatic performance.

But why did it have to be at this moment?

Olivia noticed that he was tensing up from Soldier’s overbearing hollering (which certainly didn’t need a megaphone) and soon Zhanna started joining in.

“DEATH TO BABA YAGA!” she yelled, shaking a fist.

“Engie, I don’t understand all the excitement,” Olivia replied, having to raise her voice in-between all the jovial cheers from the crowd. “Someone just threw a raccoon corpse, and the witch must have been very sick or frail because she easily died stumbling over it.”

“Leave it to Soldier to rile up a crowd over some inane thing,” Engineer dryly remarked.

“So, he’s just overexcited by her death and the crowd is following like sheeple?”

“Pretty much.”

“I AM GOING TO MAKE YOU A METAL, MY FELLOW ROADKILL PRIVATE! YOU FELL FOR US IN BATTLE!” Soldier announced.

And yer gonna make mah head pound for days on end just by yer screamin’, Engineer thought.

Living with Soldier for five years, one would think that Engineer got used to his loud, boisterous presence. Except, when the volume was turned up five times higher and he was in close proximity to the painfully ear-splitting source, it was getting too much.

So, acting on reflex when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he elbowed Soldier in the crotch. The RED military man immediately bent over, letting out a pained groan. Engineer quickly took up a normal stance, twiddling his thumbs and whistling like nothing was out of the ordinary. That should get the brash rabble instigator to quiet down for a while.

Soldier fell back in his seat, covering his ‘family jewels’ while Zhanna noticed that he wasn’t cheering anymore.

“What’s the matter, dorogoy?”

“A sudden pain in my nuts,” Soldier replied in a tight voice. He turned to her, managing a grim smile. “But as I always tell my fellow troops, pain is weakness leaving the body! This is one of those moments--oohh!”

He winced in agony again and Zhanna sat down, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You are so brave, my Soldier. Pain will leave soon! As it always do when I spank myself every day to rid me of nightmares of eating more bear!”

Carly leaned over to her mother. “Mommy, Scary Mean Lady, I mean, Zanna spanks herself! I didn’t know you can punish yourse—"

Her mother immediately turned to her with a warning finger. “No, it’s not a BDSM fetish!”

“A…what?”

“Did I just say—oh, um, of course, dearie! The paddle doesn’t stop just because you’re an adult now. Bad behavior is bad behavior.”

Meanwhile, the Dwarves and animals picking up Snow White/Felicia off the ground while a folding table with a sleeping bag on it was brought on stage by two employees. The theater company responsible for putting on the play couldn’t afford a coffin, so they had to improvise. As they clumsily carried her over to the table, Felicia’s head bumped against it.

“Ow!” she yelped. 

“Omigosh, omigosh, here’s another favorite part of mine!” Carly squealed to Olivia.

The Mann girl already knew the story, but again, she didn’t find a grown man kissing a teenaged girl to be that fascinating.

Cue the Prince walking onto the stage. The actor playing the Prince was none other than Mr. Bidwell. The Evil Queen/Administrator was still lying on the ground, wondering when this insipid, god-awful play was going to end.

I have to go pee, she thought.

She just hoped that she wouldn’t have to hear Soldier’s excruciatingly loud voice again. In the Gravel War days, she often muted the channels while observing the battles from her control room to save her ears from the tortuous sounds that came out of that hole in his face. At least the BLU Soldier wasn’t as bad.

“What has happened to my fair porcelain doll?” The Prince/Mr. Bidwell asked, feigning concern over his unconscious beloved. 

“That hideous old buzzard poisoned her,” Sneezy dwarf sobbed. “Snow White’s as dead as a drowned rat floating in a toilet.”

“She didn’t even finish cleaning the outhouse!” Dopey dwarf lamented.

“I guess you’re going back to cleaning it,” Doc dwarf chimed in.

“Ewww!”

The Prince leaned forward, tenderly touching Felicia’s cheek. “My love, my darling, my little addictive Cuban cigar – you were the one I wanted to ball, I mean spend the rest of my life growing old with.”

Carly’s brother snickered. “He wants to ball…he sure is horny for her.”

The mother slapped him across the head. “Cameron, do I have to put chili in your mouth again?”

“Oh well, I will have to move on without your sappy singing and cheesy animal friends,” the Prince sorrowfully continued. “I’ll come back and visit them every once in a while; particularly on hunting trips for rabbit and deer.”

“What?!” the deer and rabbit actors exclaimed.

“Just kidding,” he chuckled, turning back to the presumably deceased Snow White. He gave her a quick, chaste kiss. “Mwah!”

Carly squealed in delight as he performed the simple act. Olivia still couldn’t quite comprehend why the redhead was excited over a scene that involved just a peck on the cheek. That’s when the dark-haired beauty’s eyes popped open, turning to him.

“Prince?” she asked, groggily.

“You were expecting Grumpy?” The Prince replied.

“Oh noooooo, glad it’s not him!”

The other dwarves and animals laughed at the kid playing Grumpy, while he crossed his arms, looking away. “Hmmph! Whatever, maid.”

“She’s not dead?” Bashful dwarf asked, scratching his butt.

“She passed out from the Apple Martini, I tell you!” the rabbit actor insisted.

"It was only a plain apple, you nitwit!" a fawn actor snapped.

By the universe’s humungous bunghole, when is this damn show going to end?!  The Administrator seethed.

All the actors on stage cheered and whistled as the Prince helped Snow White off the table. Turning to the crowed, the Prince declared, “And now, let us profess our love in a twenty-minute soliloquy of astoundingly evocative poems and effervescent singing!”

Oh, hell no!

If she didn’t get up off the floor in the next five minutes, she was going to empty her bladder all over the stage. Sacrificing her dignity for the Austalium statuette wasn’t worth that humiliation.

“And now I’m going to sing ‘I’m Echoing Down A Well/Ten Thousand Songs,’” Felicia happily announced while muttering under her breath, “Yeah, we won’t get sued for copyright now.”

 *   *   *

Despite RED Scout pressing the camcorder against the restaurant window and filming Spy and Merasmus’s dinner, Miss Pauling tried not to let it distract her from observing the ill-fated date. Even without the glasses, she managed to make out the wizard’s face; as time went on, he looked less enthused about being smitten with ‘The Administrator.’ The RED Spy was certainly using what he learned from her boss and skillfully integrating it with his own effective methods of persuasion.

It looks like Spy’s persistence of injecting Australium into every subject of their conversation was beginning to wear down the intimate interest Merasmus displayed towards her; instead, it was culminating into a toxic mixture of disappointment, dread and boredom.

“Just a little more push from Spy, and Merasmus will think twice about dating The Administrator again,” she said, hopeful.

“Do you think he’ll have second thoughts on datin' a woman who eats snails?” RED Scout chimed in, disgusted.

Miss Pauling noticed that Spy had started on a plate of Escargot, deliberately eating each one in a slow and tantalizing manner; it was probably to repulse Merasmus even more on his carnivorous diet.

“Oh. Gross…” she felt revulsion at the sight.

BLU Pyro was also grossed out and covered their mouth area, suddenly bolting from the bushes. Miss Pauling watched the arsonist hurry over to a public trash can, lifting part of their mask up to hurl inside it.

“Is Pyro gonna be alright?” she asked, concerned.

“Yeah, it’s just a reflex with them,” BLU Scout replied casually. “They got a sensitive stomach, believe it or not. They can handle fryin' enemies like shish kabobs over a grill, but not the sight of gastropods gettin' chomped on.”

“Spy’s food choices suck,” RED Scout complained. “If he don’t finish up soon, I’m about to join Pyro over there.”

“I’m sure they don’t taste so bad,” BLU Scout countered lightly. “Just throw in some seasonin', like garlic salt and pepper, and you think you’re eatin’ a shrimpy-flavored mushroom. Doesn’t beat Boston clam chowder, but it’s a close second.”

Now his RED twin turned to him, suspicious. “Wait…don’t tell me you’ve eaten them?”

“Well…”

“Excuse me, lads!”

Startled at a familiar voice calling out to them, all three looked up to see the BLU Sniper hovering nearly ten feet off the ground. Pyro hadn’t noticed, still too busy emptying their lunch inside the garbage. Except, not only did the Sniper floating in the air surprise them, but also the way his legs were! The thighs were split horizontally on each side of his hip; the calves were bent upwards at a ninety-degree angle, while both palms rested on the sides of his face. His aviator glasses and blue clothing were a darker shade as well. Had he changed them out back at base?

He stared down at them, giving off a creepy smile that was too wide and his eyes slightly squinted, exuding off a peculiar friendliness.

Cyril? Miss Pauling thought.

“Is this the place where they’re holdin’ Stu Pidface’s birthday?”

Neither of the mercenaries nor the assistant could move, apparently stunned over his jarring appearance. After a moment, his words got through to the BLU Scout.

“Uhhh, who?” he asked.

The BLU Sniper frowned. “Oh, ya forgot already? Which one are you again? Ass Pancakes or FagScout?”

“Fagwha—heyyy, is this a joke, Snipes? You tryin’ to insult me?” BLU Scout demanded.

Now it was the airborne mercenary’s turn to look confused. “No, not at all. Did I catch you in crappy mood again?"

RED Scout snapped out of his stupor. “Yo, what the hell happened to your legs?!”

Sniper glanced on either side of his appendages, puzzled. “Huh? What’s wrong with them?”

Miss Pauling pointed a finger, squeaking, “They’re all mangled up!”

Their presumed BLU teammate shook his head, tsking. “That damn Doc Jarate. He probably got to you guys again; temporary amnesia from mind control. It’s me, Weaselcake!”

No reaction from the young trio.

Weaselcake momentarily looked disappointed before perking up again. “Not to worry, mates! Medizard should restore your memories! Stu Pidface’s birthday goes on for ten days, so we still have plenty of time to have fun at the party.”

He then noticed the puking BLU Pyro and grew sympathetic. “Make that a fourth one. Poor Samyro. That bastard Jarate poisoned his guac and chips again.”

A mockingbird landed on a nearby sidewalk and started pecking at some pill bugs.

“Ah! Me favorite appetizer!” Without warning, the marksman extended his tongue out to an unnatural length, grabbing the helpless bird and swallowing him like a frog does with flies. Another mockingbird flew past him, but his tongue caught it with a lightning-fast reflex.

GULP! And in the poor bird went in his mouth.

“Did he…just eat two birds alive??” Miss Pauling blurted out.

“Okay, so far I'm not havin' a bad trip from Demo’s shrooms if we're seein' the same thing," BLU Scout remarked.

Weaselcake turned to address them. “I’ll go visit Medizard; he should be able to sort this whole mess out! The evil Doc will NOT win this time.”

With that, he teleported away, leaving all three more confused than ever.

*   *   *

Merasmus made a decision. After witnessing the horrific spectacle of ‘The Administrator’ gobbling down dish after dish of meat, whether it was pork appetizers, chicken, steak, snails, duck, even nibbling on a lamb chop, he just couldn’t take it anymore. His own fascination with her had merely been a folly – her whole persona and what she stood for was getting worse by the minute.

And then this whole absurd conversation on Australium? No, this date was disguised as a torturous meeting. His rationality told him it would never work out. As it continued to persist with his lovestruck side, it finally swayed him enough to face the disappointing, harsh truth.

He hadn’t fallen in love with The Administrator herself; he had fallen for her darkly attractive appearance from a photo. It was so typically superficial.

But why does she have to be so exquisite?! He argued within himself. A shame, really. How could I have been such a damn fool?

“And so, I left that pitiful excuse for a mine owner,” RED Spy/The Administrator was rambling. “I mean, mining for gold? What did he see in such a vapid, overrrated metal? Australium is way more valuable! A million times more!”

Inside the wizard’s head, flashes of The Administrator buzzed in and out of his mind, chanting, ‘Australium! Australium! Australium!’ This was followed by a morbid vision of her hugging and kissing a large piece of the glowing, amber metal. Then another vision, this time of Merasmus and her walking alongside the beach, affectionately holding hands. She turned to him, grinning with sinister intention and drawled out, ‘Australiuuuumm and…MEAT!’

Merasmus screamed and ran away. Snapping out of his conscious nightmare, he abruptly stood up, balling his fists. Spy paused in licking the lamb bone in his hand.

“Is something wrong?”

“I…I’m sorry, but I believe this isn’t going to work out,” he gushed out, trying to contain his revulsion at the awkward and distasteful matter.

“What do you mean?” Spy feigned concern. Inwardly, he was grinning in triumph.

Merasmus sucked in a breath and confessed, “I can’t stand it! All this nonstop talk of Australium and you devouring animal carcass after animal carcass!” He held up a hand, attempting to calm himself. “My apologies, Ms. Furias. I simply don’t believe we’re both compatible for each other.”

Nailed it! Spy thought.

“Why is that?”

The wizard’s frustration peeked through his civil demeanor. “You, a carnivore. Me, a vegetarian. It’s like throwing water over a pan of frying oil!”

Spy mulled over it. “An explosively bad reaction.”

“Exactly,” Merasmus agreed. “That’s what sums up this date. We just wouldn’t…mix well.”

“Oh, since you put it that way.” Spy shrugged, waving it off. “I’m not surprised. I have gone through this countless of times – I have yet to find my one true bedmate.”

“Well, not to insult you, as I’m sure you’re a debonair woman,” the wizard continued. “But your interests…” Obsession, “in a metal for all intents and purposes, has benefited humanity but…oh, how can I put it without sounding like a blunt jerk? There’s more to life than just Australium.”

Now Spy pretended to be a bit perturbed. “Oh no, what could be more important than Australium?”

“You'd be surprised,” Merasmus replied, not wanting to get himself more stuck in this prickly situation. “Casting spells, getting revenge on a stupid and delusional soldier, asking the mob for favors…”

‘Stupid and delusional soldier.’

Spy could relate to that as RED Soldier had been more of a hindrance to his missions; putting up with that crazy-ass mercenary for over five years hadn't been a walk in the park. He found himself envying his BLU counterpart because the other Spy often praised the BLU Soldier for being a valuable asset to the team. This was despite BLU Soldier’s betrayal to their team when he befriended the RED Demoman during the Gravel Wars.

“Indeed, I am sympathetic to your disdain for such imbeciles,” Spy admitted. “A soldier, hmm? An interesting one for your vengeance."

“Not really,” Merasmus admitted. “There's nothing intriguing about that warmongering idiot. I think even the Greek god of war, Aries, would soon tire of him!”

“Is that so?” Spy chuckled a bit. “Do tell me more.”

“Uh, you would not agree to end the date now?”

 “I have some time. Unless, you have other errands to run?”

“No, no, not anything important.”

Meanwhile, the BLU Spy was eavesdropping on the conversation nearby while clearing a table. He was hoping the date would have lasted a bit longer but going by the wizard’s threshold limit of tolerating a carnivore and an undesirable penchant for obsessing over a metal ore, he should have known Merasmus would eventually bail out. Not even the wizard’s singular fascination with The Administrator was enough to change his mind.

Oh well, it was fun ribbing on RED Spy while it lasted. All that needed to be done now was to conclude the date and get Merasmus to reverse the gender spell on RED Scout. After returning one of the bus trays to the kitchen, BLU Spy exited the back door. Making sure that no one was watching, he then transformed out of his waiter disguise.

He found Miss Pauling and the Scouts in the bushes. Strolling over to them, he cheerily announced, “Greetings, amis! It looks like the deal is sealed! The date is a complete disaster and soon, FemScout, you’ll be back to a MascScout!”

The trio of youngers stared back at him, still recovering from the shock of seeing a possibly coked-out Sniper with all his limbs twisted up like a cartoon.

“Pleasant news, isn’t it?”

No answer.

“I’m sure you all are ecstatic hearing about this, especially you, RED Scout! No?”

Still no answer.

BLU Spy grew puzzled. “What is wrong with you three?”