Vacationing

[sentryslinger]

[Continuing this thread, in which Spy has convinced Engineer to spend a vacation with him. Fishing, fine dining, and some enemy bonding ensue.


Engineer steps into the elevator, hitting the button for their floor, pulling at his collar to loosen that next button.]

Hey, thanks again for the dinner and the suit. I'll have to put it to use some other time to justify your spendin' money on all this.

Comments

[not_onyourside]

Well eef you change your mind, zhe offer ees out zhere.

[He frowns and lays back on the bed with his arms behind his head, not liking that everyone working for TF Industries was trapped in the job somehow.]

Eet would be better zhan being dead, which might happen should zhey decide zhey no longer have a use for you.

[sentryslinger]

I guess either way, someone might miss me.

[He settles into his own pile of pillows, resting his arms on his chest.]

It's not that this job is a bad one for a fella like me, in the overall sense, but some of the decisions we make ain't easy. We're sacrificing something, one way or another, whether it's our lives, our families, our principles, or our souls.

[not_onyourside]

But look at all zhe fun machines you get to make! Zhere are some positives, but many more negatives.

At least we get to go on vacations like zhis.

[sentryslinger]

And even then, we're still breakin' enough rules that they'd have us killed if they knew we were out here together. Or they'd turn us on one another, like they did with Soldier and Demo.

[not_onyourside]

Are you planning on selling me out for a new screwdriver?

[sentryslinger]

I've got plenty, so I don't think you'll have to worry about that.

[not_onyourside]

Well zhen zhere will be no problem. And zhere ees not much een zhe world I want zhat I cannot just take.

[sentryslinger]

What would you? If you could, I mean.

[not_onyourside]

What would I take?

[sentryslinger]

Yeah. If it could be anything at all.

[not_onyourside]

Hmm. I have not zhought about zhe perfect heist een years.

[He's silent for a few minutes, churning over various things he's wanted in his life. But most of those things he could afford to simply buy now. It would have to be something he couldn't get otherwise.]

I would kidnap people off zheir bases and carry zhem off eento new lives away from zhe Administrator.

[sentryslinger]

You've got one hell of an altruistic streak, you know that?

[not_onyourside]

I steal zhings. I cannot be zhat altruistic.

[sentryslinger]

It's a little like Robin Hood. You know that story?

[not_onyourside]

Somezzing about stealing from zhe rich and giving to zhe poor? Also I recall arrows were involved somehow.

[sentryslinger]

That's right. He was this fella back in medieval times who took from the corrupted nobles and gave it all away to those who needed the money. He was a thief by all standards, but that didn't make him a bad person. Same goes for you, Spy.

[not_onyourside]

Except I am not giving what I have away.

[sentryslinger]

And I guess kidnappin' mercenaries ain't exactly the same thing, but I'll stand by what I said.

[not_onyourside]

I just do not want anyone to end up dead at zhe end of zhis job.

[sentryslinger]

If wishes were horses.

[He leans back a little more, getting very comfortable. Looks like the day and the wine are catching up to him.]

[not_onyourside]

Zhan we would have a lot of horse. And I do not know how to ride. Alas.

Een any case. I zhink today has been a success. Time for well deserved rest, oui?

[sentryslinger]

I'd say so. I'm about there as it is.

[He slides under the blanket, his towel coming off as he does. He just tosses it to the floor and buries himself a little deeper in the sheets to make up for the lack of clothing keeping him warm.]

G'night, partner.

[not_onyourside]

[Spy grins. Guess he won strip poker after all.]

Bonne nuit.

[He snuggles into his bed, wrapping his arms around his pillow and burritoing himself into his blankets.]

[sentryslinger]

[Engineer is sleeping well for a while, the gears in his head ever turning, whatever he's seeing behind his eyes manifesting itself in slight movements of his Gunslinger beneath the blankets. The mechanisms of the device whirr and click together as his builds his dreams.

He can only get so far with one Gunslinger, though. He'd do even better if he had two. Then maybe he could build something to solve those problems for which even he has no solution. Not yet, anyway. There has to be some way to get the mercenaries out of the graves they've dug for themselves.

And so he looks down to his mechanical hands and with them builds one hell of a gun- it towers over the battlefield, protecting his nest, keeping his team from being torn apart by anyone sent from the administration.

His legs grow weary as he gets older, though. It's hard to keep building when your legs give out on you. He'd be better with mechanical ones, like his hands- hands for building the future, and feet to walk him there.

And then he has a complete set of mechanical limbs, ones able to carry more metal than before. The guns he can make are the height of technology; however, he can't build them forever. His own heart and mind will only last so long before they give out, organs running down like the clockworks of an old machine. He hasn't taken as good of care of them as he should have; now he'll have to replace them, too, and while he's at it, the skin and muscles that encase them.

And now, he's nothing but machine, with nothing left to call human, nothing but cold steel and eyes that can't see the world the way he used to. He has outlived his team, and they have outlived their usefulness. After all, if he can build himself a body of steel, why does he need them at all? All he needs are his own weapons, his guns- and now, they're more his kin than anybody has ever been.

And as he watches his monstrous gun spray his team with bullets, he snaps awake, sitting up as he grits his teeth together. His Gunslinger flexes and twitches wildly, still reacting to his nightmare- he grunts as he yanks it from the plug midway up his arm, the metal fingers going lifeless as he tosses it aside.]

[not_onyourside]

[Spy, always a light sleeper, bolts upright at the clunk from Engineer's dismembered arm hitting the ground, looking around wildly for the source.

It's dark, but he can make out the outline of Engineer also sitting in bed.]

Engineer? What ees happening?

[Were they being attacked? Had the administration found them? His fingers found the revolver tucked under his pillow, the ivory grip cold against his ungloved hands.]