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No. 1290
I've been lurking, trying to get up the courage to post. UH. SO HERE IT IS, GUYS. Just a little thing I tossed together, I have no idea where I was even going with it. Feedback in any form is fantastic.


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Whether she was scolded them for failing or announcing their victory, it was always the same. The locker rooms fill up, towels were fought over, weapons were cleaned and put away, then everyone returned to the base for lights out. The Engineer didn't like showering with the others. Everyone was still wound up from the fight, especially the Scout. He was all a-buzz, zipping here and there, snapping towels at people. A towel he fought the Sniper for, leaving that creepy Aussie without one. Sniper played it off like he didn't care, walked around naked and dripping wet while the others cursed him and demanded that he put on clothes. Except the Soldier, who tended to clap a large hand down on the Sniper's shoulder, telling him he liked the cut of his jib or something-- a term that the Sniper was apparently not familiar with, as that's about the time when he would go put some damn clothes on.

Engineer did everything in a different order. As he did many a thing different than the others. While everyone was showering, he was cleaning up, not himself, but his pride and joy. Wiping down the dispenser or putting it's pieces into a pile, depending on the events of that day. Collecting scrap metal from the battlefield. Fallen machines, bits and pieces of gun stock or twisted little shreds of bomb-- they'll all make sentries one day. Dismantlement his own equipment, folding the teleporters back into his toolbox. Everything had a place and he liked to put it there. He was all done with this by the time everyone had their showers, they teased him for still being smudged with dirt and smelling of sweet sweat, mosquito bites covering his arms, all up until they got back to the base.

Soldier liked to cook, surprisingly enough. He claimed that in the war, Double-U Double-U-Two, he was able to feed his whole battalion on pine cones and Bactine. Several parts of that story do not add up, but no one pointed it out to him. He usually made some sort of stew, which tasted fine as long as you didn't think of what was put into it. Every Tuesday, the Pyro made chili. Engie liked Tuesdays. While dinner was being prepared, some cleaned their guns. Demo sat in a corner, drinking heavily and building bombs, something that made everyone nervous. He has a surprisingly steady hand for someone with so much alcohol in their system. He hadn't blow them up thus far, so everyone left him alone. In their common room, The Scout could be found behind their giant, moldy couch. He laid on the floor with his ear to a radio, listening to the sports scores from back home. The Engineer had also discovered the boy back there writing letters home to his momma. It broke Engie's heart, it really did. He was about Scout's age when he went away to school, and he missed his momma something awful. Scout probably didn't miss his brothers, but Engie only had a sister, didn't know too much about having so many brothers. Not only that, but if that boy's here and not in college-- well, that's just not right. If he could catch that boy, just haul his ass into a room alone for a bit, he'd like to teach him some higher math. That, and maybe build him some rocket boots.

The Engie passes through the common area on his way to his next destination. He usually catches the spook readin' aloud from some crazy Frenchy existentialist philosophy book, or arguing with the Sniper. That Spy rubs Engie the wrong way, he don't trust him one bit. Obvious reasons there. You ever get that jolt down your spine, when you think someone's followin' you? Every time he leaves a room alone, he feels that way. The only time he feels safe is when Sniper's shouting at the Spy in that undecipherable accent, the Spy retorting in just an undecipherable accent, only several octaves lower, nearly a whisper.

Creepy bastard.

Engie likes to take baths, see. He had to build a tub, as all they were given were showers. One of them bombs from a payload cart, well, the casing worked just fine. A little leaky, but that didn't matter. He liked to fill it to the brim with hot water and just soak. Smoke a couple cigarettes and listen to his teammates, watch the steam slowly rise. The Medic's office was right near the bathroom. He could hear Medic and Heavy talking. They actually got along rather well outside of battle. They complimented each other, both quiet off duty and a little maniacal in the heat of a fight. It got him to thinkin' about soul mates. Not the kind of soul mate you marry, grow old with-- though there's nothin' wrong with that. Engie almost got married once, back at the university, but she was too good for him and he had work to do anyway. He didn't have time for her, and in the end, she didn't have the time to wait. Not the kind of soul mate you're madly in love with, you wanna jump their bones every chance you get (though he's seen the way Sniper and Spy look at each other sometimes, and needless to say, he has himself some theories on that). The Medic and the Heavy need each other in battle, the same as Engie needs that firebug to watch his back. He tried to find a friend in that kid, but Pyro don't talk much. When Engie's got his guitar out, Pyro sits cross legged on the floor like Engie be his school marm or somethin'. Listening intently, as far as he knows. That mask stays on from the time Pyro gets up to the time Pyro goes to bed. Maybe the Spy knows what he looks like under there, being invisible and all. Engie'd ask, but he doesn't want to have to talk to the Spy.

Either way, maybe that's why Pyro sticks close to the sentries, besides the obvious.

When the water is no longer hot and the cigarettes have all burned down to the filter, Engie steps out of the bath. Everyone's asleep, or at least pretending to sleep. He can hear the radio from Scout's bunk, muffled slightly by a blanket and probably the kid's noggin. Engie finds a plate made up for him in the kitchen, it's cold, but it's his, as it's all that's left. After he eats, he cleans up the kitchen, slowly walks from room to room (with that feeling prodding him in the spine, -someone's behind you, behind you-), turning out lights and adjusting things slightly (Medic says he's obsessive compulsive, Engie says Medic has no room to talk). Engie goes to bed after the others, but is up before them. Another day, another battle.
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>> No. 1291
I can't offer any constructive criticism, but I like this. Please write more. :)


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