Three Mercenaries Walk Into a Storage Room

With the lack of alcohol to tune out the Engineer’s tirades against the lack of a door handle, Demoman settled for sitting on the floor. After balancing his crate on his lap, he proceeded to plant his face upon it, refusing to look up. “Thankfully I already don’t remember this.” The Demoman wished that were true. He would need a chemistry session that lasted until dawn came. Sometimes, chemistry was more relaxing than alcohol. Sometimes. However, that could only happen if they managed to leave the room. Maybe one of their fellow BLU mercenaries would start looking for them, but that would take hours. They needed to leave as soon as possible. He considered asking the Scout to communicate with the rest of BLU through his headset, only to remember that he swapped them out for a pair of earmuffs. He groaned. How would they leave? They were a trio of killers who regularly experienced odd shenanigans, but they were stumped by an iron door. This was an embarrassing state to be in. Then, light footfalls pattered on the linoleum floor. It was the only noise in the storage room. Looking up, the Demoman saw the Scout do a light jog in place. Then, he crouched down, planting his hands on the floor in front of him and placing his right foot against the shelf behind him. As he leaned forwards, his left foot bent, keeping his toes on the floor. The Demoman realized the Scout was in a runner’s position, like the track and field athletes he knew in Ullapool. This could only mean one thing. Reaching out a gloved hand, the Engineer attempted to stop the Scout. The Scout narrowed his eyes at the door. “Let’s do dis.” With a leap, he sprinted. Turning his shoulder against the door, he tackled it. A sickening crack resounded throughout the room. With a yell, the Scout fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder. Rushing to kneel beside him, the Engineer cradled the Scout’s head. "What in Sam Hill were you thinkin', string-bean?" Biting on his lip and struggling not to cry out again, the Scout stayed silent for once. It was likely the Scout was doing it out of pride. After all, they all died and respawned on a regular basis. They suffered through worse experiences. As the youngest member on the team, the Scout must have felt the need to prove himself. The Engineer moved his hand from Scout’s head to his back, asking him if he could stand. When the Scout nodded, the Engineer supported his back as they both slowly stood up. They both staggered away from the door. Once the Scout was able to stand, he nodded his thanks to the Engineer. Then, he nudged him away with his uninjured shoulder. He looked away. “This is a real frickin’ embarrassment.” The BLU team may have only known each other for a few months so far, but they would be a team for at least three years. It was in their contracts with the Administrator and Blutarch. That meant the Demoman had to build some type of camaraderie with his teammates. Their current situation, combined with the lack of weapons, had everyone on edge. He needed to do something. He stood up. Feeling lightheaded, he braced himself on a nearby shelf. Before he carried out his next plan, he remembered his crate. No one wanted to be blown up by potassium chlorate and gunpowder. To prevent tripping over it, he stowed his crate into the bottom shelf. Then, he assumed the same starting position that Scout did. Before anyone could protest, the Demoman sprinted. “Let’s finish this lads!” He may be broader than the Scout, but he doubted he could open the door. He still needed to try. When he tackled the door with his shoulder, the Demoman bounced backwards. He fell with his back on the floor. He was glad he did not break anything, but his vision became a blur. In an effort to clear his sight, he shut his eye. For a moment, the Scout laughed. "You're like a car crash in slow motion. It's like I'm watchin' ya fly through a windshield." At least the lad felt a bit better. Although, the Demoman still had some pride left. He would have to gain revenge against the Scout at a later time. Maybe he should trick him into washing the dishes for a week. Of course, considering the Soldier was to blame for his current situation, he decided he should take revenge on him first. “Demo’s a goner.” While the Demoman’s eye was still closed, he knew the speaker was the Engineer. Nobody else on the team had a Texan accent. Sitting up, the Demoman rubbed his head. “Oh, that smarts.” Stepping beside him, the Scout inspected the Demoman’s head. "Oh, dat's a skull fracture for sure!" It was not a skull fracture, but it felt like one. It felt like the Demoman’s head received multiple beatings from the RED Scout’s aluminum baseball bat. That would be worse than a skull fracture. There was no point in correcting the Scout. Offering a hand to the Demoman, the Engineer helped with pulling him up to his feet. As the Demoman was older than the Scout, the Engineer did not bother to remark on his actions. That was a relief. Although, he did propose that they should all stop tackling the door. There should be another way to tackle this problem. However, they needed to do it fast. Looking over at the shivering Scout, the Demoman understood the Engineer’s urgency. While the Demoman had no idea how much time had passed, it looked as if nobody would be coming to their rescue soon. They would have to save themselves. The only question left was how they were going to do it. The Scout suggested all of them could alert their teammates by pounding on the door together. “Nope.” The Engineer shook his head. He pointed out that the thickness of the iron door muffled sounds. Crying for help would be useless. He instead suggested that they dismantle the door itself. The Scout moved to cross his arms. Then, he stopped when he remembered his injured shoulder. “No way!” He settled for shaking his head. According to him, none of them had anything useful for dismantling. It was a pathetic idea. An argument ensued between the Scout and the Engineer. When the Scout held up his fist, the Demoman thought he was going to punch the Engineer. Preparing to intervene, the Demoman stepped forwards. However, the Scout only shook his fist in front of him. “Who wants to throw?” To settle their dispute, the Scout initiated a game of rock, paper, scissors. Although the Engineer looked taken back, he shrugged. Then, he shook his fist as well. “On three!” The two hardened mercenaries proceeded to play a game of rock, paper, scissors. It was a better alternative to a death match. Still feeling dizzy from his attempts at tackling the door, the Demoman kept standing there. Blinking, he stared on at the game occurring between the Scout and the Engineer. He felt a migraine beginning. When he signed the contract to join the BLU team, he never thought he would be trapped in the same room as two killers who settled their disputes through rock, paper, scissors. It was almost surreal. It was probably an unmentioned side-effect of joining the BLU team. The Engineer glanced down at his open palm, then glared at the Scout’s peace sign gesture. Scissors beat paper. “Damn this game to blazes.” The Scout grinned and jogged in place. He urged the Engineer to try again. Prior to joining BLU, the Demoman did not know that a simple game of rock, paper, scissors could be this intense. It was an eye-opener. With his head feeling like lead weighing down on his shoulders, the Demoman thought about the Engineer’s suggestion. It had potential, but Scout did have a point. There was nothing in the room to dismantle the door with. After all, they only brought in themselves and their crates. Wait. Looking around, the Demoman saw the two crates of Crit-a-cola sitting on a shelf in the back. There was now debris from the Engineer’s crate scattered around the two crates of Crit-a-cola. In fact, Engineer’s debris was scattered across the room. Upon closer observation, the crate may have splintered, but the spare parts for the sentry bots were undamaged. Demoman also had his crate of potassium chlorate and gunpowder stowed away. The Scout was wrong. There were useful objects in the storage room after all.