Author's Note: A short and relatively uneventful chapter, this ties in with the following chapter as a "day in the spotlight" for Alan. I haven't pointed it out earlier, but in the process of developing the characters' backstories, I inserted some personal headcanons, which have since become engraved into the unofficial TF2-verse's worldbuilding. Some elements mentioned or emphasized here will become more relevant in upcoming chapters, so it's not a part of the story you'd want to miss.
After sharing that embrace with Miller, Mort decided to return to the battlefield, if not for the Engineer's sake, then for his own. He got into this mess, he reminded himself, and now he's gonna trek through it like a man ought to. It's surprising how used to the idea of death and revival he got, how he could get slaughtered in all manners of gruesome fatalities, and still come back stronger than ever. Perhaps, he thought, this wouldn't be so bad after all. Sure, it's painful, but with every Respawn, he would return with a new found wisdom. It's almost Zen-like, the way he approached this strange fate, and he assumed this was how the others had come to terms with it. Still, he could not help but worry about how this would affect him in the long run, this desensitization to the chaos and violence which had grown redundant to him. Shortly after his last round ended, he thanked his lucky stars that he was a Sniper and not a front-line mercenary.
Returning to the dorm where he and Alan were to reside, he found the Scout nowhere in sight. According to the Spy, Vince made some arrangements with another merc and was to bunk with him until further notice. Mort was relieved to have a proper bed for the first time since he came here, but also a bit disappointed to see him go. Alan then went on to ramble on about his first day on the field; unlike the Sniper, he was a little too happy to talk about backstabbings and sabotage. But the subject reminded Mort of what happened earlier that day, and he had to bring up what the RED Spy told him.
Presently, Alan is sitting beside Mortimer, and on the verge of tears. “Daddy... Daddy's on RED?” No longer does he feel any joy for his occupation; not when he's going up against the very man that raised him. “But why? Why RED? Why not BLU? Did zhey scout him out first?” All Mort can do is shrug. Realizing how hopeless the situation is, Al wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “Well, I suppose it's too late to ask questions now. I'll just have to treat zhis like any ozher test.”
“Test?”
Alan nods. “I probably shouldn't tell you zhis, but... Growing up, I was a member of an organization called SPAI—zhe School of Personification, Assassination, and Intelligence. It's a place where they take in kids without homes or past lives and train zhem in zhe art of espionage, particularly the fatal sort.” So it's like SOLDR, Mort realizes as Zhen's explanation of the organization runs through his mind. “Daddy was one of the instructors zhere. He can do all kinds of things, but disguise is his specialty. He found me and raised me and taught me everyzhing he knows about spying. He's zhe best Spy I know! Unfortunately, I'm a failure as a student. I failed almost every subject, save for intelligence, so zhey sent me over to BLU for further training. I think zhey sent Daddy over to RED to test me. Zhat's why I said zhat, you get it?” Alan's lips curl up into a smile, but it's quite blatantly forced, so he drops the act. “Mort... I'm scared. What if I fail? I'll get kicked out of SPAI, and zhen what?”
Mort wraps his arm around the Spy's shoulders and pulls him closer. “I dunno how things work at this 'SPAI' place, but I do know how it's like to face failure. Or the feeling of it, anyway. I never went to high school. Hell, I dropped out of middle school. I flunked most of my subjects 'cause I could never catch up with the other kids, so I left. Pissed my parents right off!” He chuckles weakly. “But anyways, if you fail a test, what the hell does it matter? It's not the end of the world if you don't get a fancy diploma from some poppycock school. As long as you've learned somethin' in the end, why worry 'bout passing?” Alan stares at him, confused and more than a little uneasy, and Mort pinches his cheek. “I know what you're thinkin'. 'Mort, are you implying that I should give up? That's not exactly a great life lesson to teach to the children.' Al, I never said givin' up's the answer. You gotta keep tryin' your best, regardless of the results. If you fail one test, there'll always be other tests along the way. So keep on truckin', mate!”
He lets go of Alan, and the poor Spy is left dumbfounded, but more thoughtful. Rubbing his cheek, he smiles—genuinely this time—and says, “Thanks, Mort. Zhat was certainly... insightful. I'll keep zhat in mind next time.” Pause. “Say, if you never even passed middle school, how would you expect to get a job anywhere?”
“Dunno, exactly. I guess I could take some special courses or somethin', try to get one of them there GEDs or whatever. But I doubt I'd be able to do that much. I'm just an idiot, plain an' simple.” He shakes his head, getting rid of the thought. “But this ain't about me. It's about you. And I know for a fact that you can do it. I've seen what you can do—now take it to the next level!”
“I thought you were being sarcastic.”
“I... Well, maybe I was at the time. But I know what you are good at, an' it's about high time you took advantage of that.”
“What I am good at...?” His eyes turn away, a little lost.
“Think about it for a bit.” He stands up. “Now, how 'bout a quick bite 'fore we go to bed?”
The Spy giggles, his lovely blue eyes attracted to Mort again. “Anozher snack? You're gonna make me fat!”
Mort laughs along and pats Alan on the head. “Well, even pixies like you gotta grow.”
His touch sends a rush through the Spy's body, flushing his cheeks under his mask. “Ch... Chocolate... cake,” Alan squeaks, overwhelmed by nerves. As soon as it came, Mort's hand moves away from his head and he gives him a quick “Gotcha” before walking out the door. The moment he hears the door close, Alan rushes over to the top bunk and slips out a diary (pen attached) from under his pillow. Avidly, he scribbles out the next chapter of his story.
Eventually, the travelers finally managed to break free from the forest and found their way into a thriving town. During their travels, Archer mentioned to Anonyme that he was searching for Sapphire Castle; his life's dream was to become a knight for the king. As it turned out, the path they were taking lead to the very town he was looking for. What luck!
But when they reached the outside of the castle, they were met not by the king, but a pretty young lady in purple. Amethyst was not royalty, but rather a mere servant. To make up for the inconvenience, she showed the hunter and the sprite around the castle. Along the way, they encountered the Seven Knights of Sapphire. The first Knight they met was Rammzig, a kindly, but stubborn man whose hands are burnt and rough from working long hours forging metal. The second was his mysterious comrade, Arson, a masked Knight who could control fire. Then there was Harrington, a speedy youngster who was a little bit high-strung, and Baron, a stone giant who showed little tolerance for unnecessary shenanigans. They also had a rather scary run-in with the ill-tempered Captain Raccs, though thankfully, the one-eyed rogue, Wolfe, stepped in to protect them. In the medical bay was the seventh Knight, Henn Taube, a large man with majestic, bird-like wings—a faerie folk of some sort.
The Knights saw potential in the newcomers and decided to test them in battle against the Knights of Ruby. It wasn't easy, but Archer passed with flying colors. Anonyme, however, fell ill during her journey, and had to be tended to by Archer shortly afterwards. While bedridden, Anonyme confessed to her fears of failing, especially her father. Archer confessed to her about his past failures, and told her that, no matter what, she should never give up on her dream, and to keep trying until she succeeds. His words warmed the young sprite's heart and motivated her to return to the battlefield...
Alan shuts the book and puts it back in its hiding spot just as soon as he hears the door creak open. Mort enters, a tray of cake and milk in each hand, and places them on top of the dresser. Excitedly, Alan scampers down the ladder and sits beside the Sniper. Together, they indulge in delicious cake and laugh and chat themselves until they both fall asleep on the bottom bunk. The bed's a mess, and Mort smells awful, even after a long shower, but Alan is too lost in his bliss to care.
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