Team Fortress: The Revengineering(IC/Closed)

[MetalSonic 86]

On a plane flying towards Mann Co.

On the plane were the Saxtonettes, a girl scouts troupe led by Saxton Hale, who was also on the plane. He was reading a newspaper. While he was reading, a steward came by and in a robotic voice, asked "Could I get you a drink, or perhaps a sensible haircut?" "Hot sauce!" Saxton exclaimed. The steward was taken back. "You want hot sauce to drink?" "Not that!" Saxton yelled excitedly as he put the steward in a head lock. "Take a look at this!" Saxton indicated an article on the paper that read that the third richest man in the world had died due to a fruit basket sent to him spontaneously exploding and killing him. "Looks like he finally got that basket I sent him after all." Saxton commented as he and his girls laughed.

"Mr. Hale," on of the girls asked. "Hm?" Saxton responded, not loosening his grip. "Beep boop. Cannot breathe." the steward said, pointlessly trying to fight his way out of the massive Australian's arm. "Do any of these people look strange to you?" she asked. Saxton looked around at the other passangers, all wearing similar outfits and with the same facial hair. Saxton pondered for a moment. "Can't say the do." he replied. "Beep boop. Let go, maggot!" the steward demanded. "Watch your language!" Saxton yelled at him. "There are impressionable children around. You don't want them learning such foul language, now do ya?" he lectured as he let go of him, causing his fake moustache to fall off. Saxton took a good look at the man he just let go, finally realizing what his girl was talking about. Suddenly, all of the other passangers dropped their disguises to reveal an ambush of robot Soldiers ready to attack. "Scientists from the future have studied your ass for centuries, and have sent us back in time to kick it!" the robots said in unison. "Ah, so it's a fight you tin blokes are lookin' for eh?" Saxton said cracking his knuckles. "Alright then, let's have a go at it! SAXTON HAAAALE!"

The fight lasted for about ten minutes. Saxton dusted his hands off, surrounded by the remnants of the smashed Soldier bots that tried to kill him. The Saxtonettes stood behind him cheering on. "Thank you! Thank you!" he said to them. "And that, girls, is why violence is always an acceptable answer." he told them. As he did, the plane began to take a nose dive. "Bloody hell, what just happened?" Saxton said. Out the window, he saw the plane crashing at an alarming rate. A smile creeped onto his face as he knew exactly what to do. He scooped up the girls and kicked the emergency door down. He then jumped out of the plane, aiming straight for the window to his office down below.

Saxton crashed into the window, sticking the landing as his butler Bidwell was there to greet him. "Bidwell." Saxton called out in joy. "Sir." Bidwell responded. "Get these girls parents on the phone. Let them know that the plane crashed and I got them out here at Mann Co." Saxton directed his butler to do as he set the girls down. "Very well sir, but you may want to take a look outside." Puzzled, Saxton took a look outside the newly broken window behind his grill desk. As he did, a putrid odor caught his attention. The smell as all too familiar to him and filled him with rage. "Hippies!" he yelled in anger.  Much to his disappointment, that's exactly what he saw. Drum circles, bad acoustic guitar playing, and terrible singing. Hacky Sack, sknny men and women protesting Mann Co.'s alleged illegal arms and environmentally unsafe practices.  "Great, first I lose my company. Then after I get it back, robots attack it again, and now these losers. They never seem to take a hint, do they Bidwell?" he asked his butler. Bidwell sighed. "Shall I postpone your meetings while you take care of more important business sir?" Bidwell asked, expecting a yes. Saxton just grunted. "You know what? I've had to deal with this far too much. Normally I'd be excited to have an excuse to beat up a parking lot full of hippies, but you can only do something so much before it just becomes a chore. Let the mercs deal with it." "Very well sir." Bidwell answered as he turned on the speaker to the entire building. "All mercenaries. Mr. Hale has ordered for you to disperse the protest happening outside the building. Lethal force is authorised. After you're finished, please report to Mr. Hale's office for your next assignment."

[Comrade Duck 178]

"All mercenaries. Mr. Hale has ordered for you to disperse the protest happening outside the building. Lethal force is authorised. After you're finished, please report to Mr. Hale's office for your next assignment."

Busy with his latest development, Claude's bald head wrinkled at the sound of Bidwell.

"Huh? Huuuuuuuuuuh!?" Claude snapped suddenly. He was peacefully developing a new explosive when he was suddenly disturbed by the unsavory voice of Bidwell. For no other reason than his voice, Claude hated that guy. "God damnit! When I get back with dealing with this shit, I'm testing my newest bomb on Biddy-boy. I'll bid him farewell! Hahahahahaha!" Claude said to no one but himself as he burst from the lounge in only his boxers and socks. He snatched up his rocket launcher and ran for the perimeter gates where he got a sudden whiff of his enemies. "Smells like... tree huggers," he said as he ground his teeth. He could smell their vegan and cruelty free lack of soap from the other side of the compound. "I dunno what today is, but I hate being disturbed on Sundays."

Claude stormed to the parking lot with his rocket launcher strapped over his shoulders and cupped his hands over his mouth as he reached the range of the hippies. "Hey! You God damned commie loving jack-offs! You love the earth so much, I'm gonna put you in the dirt!"

Without waiting for a proper response, he let loose a rocket directly into the crowd of hippies and bestowed upon them an early Earth-day gift: scorched earth.

"God bless America!" he said as he reloaded.

[Wind Rider 10]

"All mercenaries. Mr. Hale has ordered for you to disperse the protest happening outside the building. Lethal force is authorised. After you're finished, please report to Mr. Hale's office for your next assignment."

Sofia had just lit a cigarette when she heard the announcement. She looked over at the crowd of hippies protesting by the gate and let out a sigh. "Dummkopfs... Of all days..." She put the cigarette out and put it into her pocket for later before getting her toolbox out. She had just gotten her drone out before Claude had jumped in and started blowing up the crowd. She sighed again and programmed her drone to "persuade" the crowd to leave as she started building up a dispenser. "Fool's gonna need ammo if he wants to blow them all up..." She mumbled to herself.

The drone readied its guns and floated over to the crowd before firing at them. No lethal shots of course, Sofia might have been a mercenary but she didn't feel the need to kill civilians. No... If anything she wasn't needed to kill, not with a crazed American with rockets on the brain blowing everybody up. She was just thankful he wasn't crazy enough to blow his own team up.

[JellisOP 20]

Amara had actually preparing to walk out their, see if the 'usual' boys were out and about. These were the sorts of venues they hung out at, but that was not what he would be doing. He had a job to do.

He slipped past his American Compatriot, slid under the Sentry Drone, cloaked, and had made it past a large group of people to the back area of people who were confused why people were running. He found a group of people who seemed to be unscathed by the shelling from Claude. He got his story together, uncloaked, and ran to a man who seemed to ignore the panic from the crowd.

"Oh god!" Amara said hysterically. "I don't know what happened. I was just standing there, peacefully protesting, and then my friend Adrian, he just...he just..." He made a exploding gesture with his hands. "I don't know what I can do with myself now. But I can give you one suggestion." He said with a sob as he walked behind the random man who seemed to be sympathizing with him. "Run." He said as he flourished his knife, the Black Rose, and backstabbed the man, to the horror of nearby onlookers. He then pulled his knife out of the man in almost an instant, whipped out his revolver with his left hand, and began firing at the closest onlookers, hoping to sow as much chaos as possible. 'Chaos,' he thought. 'Chaos prevents organized resistance.' 

He then charged into the retreating crowd, causing even more people to run in random directions. Amara took this opportunity to jump up to a lamp post, bounce off, and backstab a retreating woman. He chuckled to himself. "You might move, I hear Greenland is right up your guys' alley." He then slunked away under cloak back to the front where that German was. He stood by the dispenser and waited while his revolver was refilled and uncloaked. "So, I think I've got a good idea for your buildings. I always wondered about making Sapper resistant buildings. Not an engineer myself, but how possible would that be?" He asked Sofia. He hoped that he could at least make one good contact from this job, and this person might be that contact.

[Comrade Duck 178]

Claude was busy stuffing his only extra rocket into the launcher when Sofia joined the soiree. Judging by the sudden hum of her drones and the silent thuds of bodies, and the distinct lack of SPLAT noises, she was probably using non-lethal shots.

Claude frowned and folded his arms and threw his strap over his shoulder, accidentally firing the rocket into the crowd of hippies that he was going to violently assault, regardless. "Hey! Why aren't you taking this seriously!?" Claude demanded to know. From his own AMERICAN understanding, if your enemies weren't dead, they were still a threat. "For your sake, I'm gonna clean up your mess!" he said as he pointed randomly into the crowd of dismembered and evaporated hippies. He marched recklessly between the fire of Sofia's drones and smashed an unconscious hippie's head into pieces with the butt of his launcher. It was like watching the end result of someone dropping a perfectly good watermelon. Being out of rockets, and failing to understand the concept of "tactical retreat", Claude instead resorted to good, old fashioned, AMERICAN ass kicking.

"This is my launcher! There are many like it, but this one is mine!" he recited joyfully as he swung at the kneecaps of his next victim, causing them to collapse to the ground. In mere seconds, he had forgotten that he was upset by Sofia's lack of lethal rounds. He was merely enjoying the slaughter of hippies. The crowd had started to thin, unfortunately, and the hippies were running away.

"Get back here, you cowards! I challenge you to an ethical debate on the consumption and use of CAPITALISM!" he barked as he gave chase.

[MetalSonic 86]

As the attack raged, the hippies began to run away. However, one stayed and continued to play his acoustic guitar. As he played, the barrage of rockets and bullets seemed to curve away from him. He slowly approached the tattooed muscle man not flinching to anything going on around him. As he approached, his long white beard blew gently in the wind. Getting face to face, he set his guitar to the side and took off his hat and held it low. "Now, sir, I know that you're lust for senseless violence is just a way for you to fill the sad void in your life. You could be doing far more good on our side. Violence only causes more violence." He then pointed at Saxton Hale, watching through the broken glass window. "Just look at that man. Who sends others to his dirty work but someone who can't do it themselves?" He then offered a handshake. "Why don't you put that thing down and join us on the right side of history and make a change in this world by making love, not war?"

[Wind Rider 10]

Sofia watched as her drone shot at the crowd, relighting the cigarette she had meant to smoke before this crap happened. She leaned on the wall next to her dispenser and watched as some more chaos seem to break out in the crowd as another hippie killed one of his own, though Sofia knew better. What was his name? Amara? The group's local spy, seemed to have joined the fray. As the hippies in the area seemed to disperse a bit, she looked to her side to see Amara refilling his ammo. "So, I think I've got a good idea for your buildings. I always wondered about making Sapper resistant buildings. Not an engineer myself, but how possible would that be?"

The idea struck her in the head and Sofia went into her usual thinking state, which from outside looked like she was just staring off into space. "Possible..." She answered him as a mental blueprint started being drawn in her head. However, it was interrupted by her other comrade yelling at her. "Hey! Why aren't you taking this seriously!? For your sake, I'm gonna clean up your mess!"

That man was nuts... A bit of an understatement but it works. There honestly more important things he should've been focusing this explosive temper towards than normal hippies. Sofia just sighed, at least he didn't shoot a rocket at her out of spite. She never understood how someone was so willing to kill civilians. Oh well... Sofia finished her cigarette and flicked it away before calling back her drone, the hippies were running back to where they came from, so there was no need in chasing.

[Comrade Duck 178]

When Claude realized he was no longer knee deep in the sweat, blood, and tears of his hippie enemies, he silently mourned. His prey had had enough and they were fleeing the scene. Well, most of them were anyway. There stood a lone super hippie who was unfazed by his American brand of violence. He appeared to be one with nature and was completely attuned to the earth and his surroundings. Claude was visibly disgusted. What happened next was something of a surprise for Claude. The super hippie, in all his brazen and healthy ways, began to approach the American. Was he looking for a final stand-off? Perhaps this would be the moment that defined Claude's greatest battle yet! Claude was now imagining this fateful battle with the super hippie being written in American history books everywhere! He would even have his own book about it! 'Claude, the mighty Almighty Christian American Badass Super Hero of Ultimate Glory takes on the Deathly Red Omni-Super Hippie'. Yeah. That would be an appropriate title for it.

Unfortunately, the tale would have to be greatly exaggerated. This super hippie, in all his super hippie ways, was not looking for a fight. Instead, the thought to soothe Claude.

"Now, sir, I know that your lust for senseless violence is just a way for you to fill the sad void in your life. You could be doing far more good on our side. Violence only causes more violence."

Claude's brow furled as he leaned against his rocket launcher and took an uninterested stance. He would give the super hippie a few more minutes of lip service. The super hippie pointed to Saxton and thought to make an appeal to Claude's more humane side.

"Just look at that man. Who sends others to his dirty work but someone who can't do it themselves?"

Hmm. This super hippie was making a good point. What if Claude did the thinking for himself and took up a different initiative and outlook on life? Claude thought hard about this. His brow furled further.

The super hippie then offered Claude a handshake and extended a welcome to him. "Why don't you put that thing down and join us on the right side of history and make a change in this world by making love, not war?"

This made Claude think more. But therein lies the problem. Claude hates thinking! "Listen, super hippie communist devil worshipper! I don't know what the hell you're babblin' about, but this is America! We are born of war! It's a profitable machine of death that pays for my burgers and cigars! And if you don't think that's the right side of history, then you ain't welcome!" Claude yelled, spitting violently in the super hippie's face. Claude daringly placed his forehead against the super hippie's forehead, pushing against his enemy. "Whaddya say to that!? HMM!?  HMMMMMMMMMMMM!?"

[JellisOP 20]

Amara, now full on ammo for his revolver, realized that he left the most unstable member of this group alone with a supposedly charismatic figure. He looked to the Drone Operator. "Hold that thought, I think I need to back up our explosives expert up real quick." He, with a quick front-flip, leaped into action.

He ran to where the Old Man and the Raging Man stood, in a sort of stand-off. He stood in the shadow of his compatriot and then cloaked to get around him. When standing behind the acoustic guitarist, Amara uncloaked and began to engage in philosophical combat.

"So, if I am picking up on what you are putting on the floor, you think that he is being violent because he is hurting inside. Is that right?" He asked. "Well, you would be right if you weren't so wrong. He isn't doing it because he feels like filling a void, rather he is doing his self-proclaimed God-Given Duty, which, let's be honest, he's not, but that is what he thinks, and I'm inclined to believe him, as he does have a rocket launcher."

Amara drew his knife. "I think he said it well enough. Regardless, I think that simply the fact that you are trespassing on my boss's private property is enough to throw you into the Jaguar Enclosure covered in meat. However," He paused as he let the knife's cold steel press against the hippie's neck. Amara was so glad that Caleb was pinning him into an unfavorable position. "We are honorable. If you wish to live, then surrender, and walk away never to return to this parking lot. Or, you can die at the hands of an American Patriot. And now you face the dilemma that Eastern Europe has for all of it's existence." He hoped that the analogy put emphasis on how dire this really was seeming to be.

"Death? Or Dishonor?"

[MetalSonic 86]

On 5/7/2020 at 12:06 AM, Comrade Duck said:

When Claude realized he was no longer knee deep in the sweat, blood, and tears of his hippie enemies, he silently mourned. His prey had had enough and they were fleeing the scene. Well, most of them were anyway. There stood a lone super hippie who was unfazed by his American brand of violence. He appeared to be one with nature and was completely attuned to the earth and his surroundings. Claude was visibly disgusted. What happened next was something of a surprise for Claude. The super hippie, in all his brazen and healthy ways, began to approach the American. Was he looking for a final stand-off? Perhaps this would be the moment that defined Claude's greatest battle yet! Claude was now imagining this fateful battle with the super hippie being written in American history books everywhere! He would even have his own book about it! 'Claude, the mighty Almighty Christian American Badass Super Hero of Ultimate Glory takes on the Deathly Red Omni-Super Hippie'. Yeah. That would be an appropriate title for it.

Unfortunately, the tale would have to be greatly exaggerated. This super hippie, in all his super hippie ways, was not looking for a fight. Instead, the thought to soothe Claude.

"Now, sir, I know that your lust for senseless violence is just a way for you to fill the sad void in your life. You could be doing far more good on our side. Violence only causes more violence."

Claude's brow furled as he leaned against his rocket launcher and took an uninterested stance. He would give the super hippie a few more minutes of lip service. The super hippie pointed to Saxton and thought to make an appeal to Claude's more humane side.

"Just look at that man. Who sends others to his dirty work but someone who can't do it themselves?"

Hmm. This super hippie was making a good point. What if Claude did the thinking for himself and took up a different initiative and outlook on life? Claude thought hard about this. His brow furled further.

The super hippie then offered Claude a handshake and extended a welcome to him. "Why don't you put that thing down and join us on the right side of history and make a change in this world by making love, not war?"

This made Claude think more. But therein lies the problem. Claude hates thinking! "Listen, super hippie communist devil worshipper! I don't know what the hell you're babblin' about, but this is America! We are born of war! It's a profitable machine of death that pays for my burgers and cigars! And if you don't think that's the right side of history, then you ain't welcome!" Claude yelled, spitting violently in the super hippie's face. Claude daringly placed his forehead against the super hippie's forehead, pushing against his enemy. "Whaddya say to that!? HMM!?  HMMMMMMMMMMMM!?"

The hippie just sighed. “If there’s anything worse than the smell of your breath, it’s that attitude.” He raised his hand slowly as he took a step back. He then closed his eyes as the bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters began to rise. As they rose, a seemingly spectral energy flowed out of them. “If violence is what you want, then let the suffering of your enemies be transferred to you!” he said as blue smoke clouds flew all around the mercenaries. They wailed at volumes incomprehensible in pain. They continued to grow in numbers and intensity until there was nothing but a blue Smokey void everyone was trapped inside of.

[JellisOP 20]

"Death it is. Enjoy your journey through the stars."

Amara took his knife and slit his throat. And then in rolled the the fog from the corpses. Amara looked in horror. "Claude, I think the dispenser should be nice and full of Rockets. Unless you fancy fighting undead hippies bare handed."

Amara quickly ran toward the gates, getting some distance between himself and the eco-zombies. He stabbed any that he passed by, just trying to clear some room for him to make a stand. He whipped out his revolver, and began firing at those that got too close. If he couldn't shoot them in time, he backpedaled. He eventually found he was low on ammo, and almost at the front door of Mann Co. He called out desperately, trying to get some attention from the boss.

"Mr. Hale! I think, *cough*, I think we have some very bad problems! Apparently Hippies have Magic!" Amara found he began to choke on the blue smoke, and it began to cloud his sight. He just continued to fight, knowing that if he didn't stop shooting, he would be engulfed in smoke and ripped apart by undead hippies. A fate worse than death indeed.