"Here we are—BLU Ocean Beach!" Hartmann parks his car and starts removing the bags and beach chairs from the trunk. Vincent, carrying the cooler and umbrella, almost drops them upon seeing the great expanse of water before him. Beauty aside, there's also the numerous possibilities of danger lurking beneath, from seaweed that could tangle and bind to a swimmer's leg, to rocks and coral that scratch, to great whites and killer whales and anglers and Leviathans and...
"Vincent? Vincent!"
The Scout is abruptly slapped out of his daze, his back stinging from the pain. "You vere spacing out again. Take a deep breath and relax." Setting up the towels and beach chairs, Hartmann continues. "You don't have to swim if you don't vant to. Zhere's more zhan one vay to enjoy a vacation." He helps Vince set up the umbrella, then kicks back on a chair and starts rubbing sunscreen on himself.
"Are you going in the water," Vince asks as he plops the cooler between the two chairs.
The Medic belts a hearty laugh. "Oh, of course not! I am perfectly intent vith doing absolutely nothing today. Here."
He takes the bottle of sun lotion from Hartmann and applies it all over his body. "So it's just a lazy day for you, isn't it? Don't you get bored of doing nothing?"
"Kaninchen, I know you do not understand zhe meaning of such concepts as 'fun' and 'relaxation', but all I am asking is for you to start enjoying yourself. Don't think about vork or your brother, or zhe Kraken vhich may or may not be in zhose vaters. Just concentrate on being happy!" With that, he whips out a book from his bag and starts reading from it. Figuring he would ignore any protests he makes, Vince gets up and walks over to the shore.
Picking up a scallop with a shiny, pink interior, Alan gazes at it longingly before bagging it. As he catches a glimpse of Vince from the corner of his eye, he turns to wave at him. "Oh, bonjour, Vinci!"
"Hey. Um... The swimming cap and goggles I can understand, but... I still can't believe you're wearing that," Vince says while pointing out the girly, ribbon-adorned one-piece Alan is wearing.
"Well, it's my swimsuit, so zhere!" He sticks his tongue out. "You want to pick seashells with me? It's fun!"
The Scout stammers. "Uh, maybe a bit later. Have you seen Mr. Mundy?"
The Spy jabs his finger in the direction behind him. "He's right over there, making sand angels. Maybe you can join him; he looks like an idiot, doing that by himself."
Seeing no other choice in the matter, Vincent walks over to where Mortimer is, and receives a sudden kick of sand in the face. As he rubs the grains from his eyes, he coughs, "Hey! What'd you do that for?"
Mort stops flailing about and sits up. "Sorry 'bout that, Vinci. Didn't notice you there." His dopey grin shines brightly. "Hey, lie down with me! We can make sand angels together."
"I, um, all right. If you say so." He does as the Sniper suggests and lays his back against the hot sand, staring at the blue sky above. "So, um... You seem to be having fun."
"'Course I am—it's the beach! There's lots of beaches back where I came from, but I rarely get the chance to go to one. My mum an' dad are the 'stay-at-home' sort." He mutters with contempt, "'Specially dad."
"You don't seem to get along with your dad very well."
"I don't. But that doesn't matter. I never cared much for the beach, anyway. I'm having fun just bein' here with everybody."
"Even doing nothing in particular?"
"Bein' able to do nothin's the greatest blessing a man can have in his life. You'll understand when you get older."
"I'm twenty-five."
"Still a kid."
"You're hardly that much older!"
"Just five years more experienced."
Vince crosses his arms. "Well, you still act like a kid."
"I'm a kid at heart. What can I say?" He rolls on his stomach and closes his eyes. "As a kid, I wanted nothin' more than to grow up. Now that I am, I want nothin' more than to be a kid again. Weird how life works."
"I guess..." By then, his eyes are closed, and he can feel his mind drifting. Though he cannot see them, he can recognize the waves crashing against the shore, the muffled voices of his teammates as they dawdle and play, the cries of the gulls, the shuffling footsteps of a stranger approaching...
Suddenly, his nerves feel the sting of hot sand splashed across his skin, and his body recoils. As Vince frantically brushes the sand off him, a shadow looms over him and Mort. "Having fun, big brother?"
He hardly needs more than a glance to know who it is. "I was 'til you came, Baldo."
The intruder, Valdo, growls and kicks a large wave of sand in, which the two BLUs manage to shield their faces in time. "I thought I told you not to call me that!" He jabs a finger in Mortimer's direction. "You, me, beach volleyball. Winning team claims right to this territory."
Mort simply laughs. "Oh? An' where's your team? We outnumber you seven to one."
Valdo sneers and points a thumb over his shoulder. "Perhaps you should talk to your leader; he's havin' a spat with Dante as we speak."
Shocked by the news, Vincent makes a mad dash towards where he last saw Hartmann, and finds a crowd of mercenaries, BLU and RED alike. A line had been drawn in the sand, and standing at the forefront of each side is their respective teams' Medics: Hartmann and Dante. With a stocky build, long, snow white hair tied back, and gentle features, Dante is aged like a fine wine; some of the mercs back in Teufort have joked that he could pass off as Mort's father if he wanted. The Scout cautiously approaches the two, hiding behind his allies as the argument ensues.
"What do you mean, your beach? Zhis is 'BLU Ocean'—it clearly belongs to us!"
Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Dante calmly tells him, "I am afraid you are mistaken. Zhis beach is known as 'RED Sunset', named after zhe beautiful crimson sun. Unless you are villing to challenge us, I am afraid you must leave."
"You're on!"
"Eager as alvays." The ivory-haired doctor smiles. "Unfortunately, it appears zhat zhere is a slight imbalance in our numbers. On your side, you have seven, vhile I only brought myself und four others. You know vhat zhat means, don't you?"
Hartmann's features distort in rage, and he calls his team to huddle together. "Alright, guys, ve have to vin zhis! Which one of you sucks at sports?"
Spy raises his hand. "I faint easily. Does zhat count?"
"Vhat about you, Miller? No doubt you've got a thing or two up your sleeve."
"Ya know I always do."
"Mort, you know anyzhing about volleyball?"
"Not at all! Is it fun?"
"I suppose so." Hartmann ponders over the idea, but shakes his head. Even with this clear disadvantage, it's better to have Mort on his side, to encourage his rivalry with Valdo. Plus, he can always cover for him. "I suppose zhe Spy vill do for now. Break!" He claps his hands, breaking formation, and they return to the starting point just as the RED team finishes their meet-up. "Ve vill hand over one of our members, as part of our deal," he announces as he places a hand on Spy's shoulder.
Dante appears unfazed. "Actually, ve have been conversing, und ve believe ve should make zhe decision. Und ve have decided to take your Sniper." He walks up to Mortimer and holds out his hand. "Before ve begin, I vould like to introduce myself. I am Dante Alterheim. Herr Buckman has told me much about you." His eyes catch a glance at Joey, who immediately averts his gaze. "I hope you can tolerate zhe predicament you're in."
Mort is confused at first, but becomes comforted by the mention of his old pal. "Hey, any friend of Joey's is a friend of mine." He clasps the doctor's hand and shakes it. "Mortimer Mundy, reporting for duty!"
It all goes downhill from there. Thrown off by the sudden change of events, the BLU team find themselves in a bind. Mortimer has proven to be a surprisingly skilled player, with his boundless energy, powerful legs, and precise aim compensating for his lack of knowledge about the game's rules. In addition, the RED team is supplied with competent athletes, including their newest recruit, a hot-blooded Soldier with a penchant for high-flying stunts. To make matters worse, Spy passes out in the middle of the match, forcing Hartmann to step out to assist him, and thus leading to another re-balancing of the teams. In a last-minute attempt to turn things around, Pasha has forms a strategy in his head, and promptly recruits Joey to put it to action. His plan works more smoothly than expected, as Joey's aggressive spikes, combined with Mort and Zhen's conflicting personalities arising from their mutual friend being on the other side of the net, helps lead the BLU team to a narrow victory.
After the match's end, Joey and Mort shake hands and return to their respective cliques, only to reunite come sunset. The two Medics have negotiated, and came to the conclusion that the beach—secluded to all except those working for Team Fortress Industries—should be regarded as neutral territory and thus remain nameless. After sealing the deal, they have invited their allies over to a local barbecue joint for a surprise celebration. The atmosphere starts off rather tense, but lightens up over time, as conversations become more and more lively.
"An' then the farmer says, 'That's no Marimo—that's my wife'!" Mortimer bursts out laughing at his own joke, which flew over the heads of everybody at the table who isn't Australian, Mort in particular. As he calms down, he wipes a tear from his eye and changes the subject. "Jokes aside, I'm still surprised you got recruited so soon. I thought you still had a few weeks to go."
Speaking with his mouth full, Zhen answers, "I do. This is part of my training; think of it as an apprenticeship, if you will." He swallows and continues while he shovels more food into his mouth. "In the weeks up to my graduation, I have to find a mentor from somebody working at Team Fortress Industries—better than letting SOLDR choose for me—and they help me break into the mercenary routine. When I first met Joey at the restaurant, I knew right away he was the one for me."
Vincent, who's picking away at his steamed veggies, chuckles weakly. "That explains everything. I thought you were hitting on him, when you gave him your number."
Joey almost chokes on his food, while Zhen looks away, embarrassed. "Our relationship is strictly professional—really. More accurate, it's like babysitting than tutoring." The Soldier pouts and glares at his Sniper partner, who smiles sheepishly. "Then again, wasn't it the same with you, Morty?"
"Yeah, but it was fun, bein' with you. It's like havin' a brother I never had."
"It's true that there's something 'big-brotherly' about you," Vince interjects.
Joey, absent-minded, picks at his steak. "Well, I got two li'l brothers back at home, so it ain't too far from the truth. You're pretty 'big-brotherly' yourself, the way Valdo talks about you."
"What? Me? Actually, we're both the youngest in our family. I'm just the older twin."
"Really? You're awfully mature for a kid brother. Then again, you probably have to, to live with a kid like that."
Vince puts down his fork and stares gloomily at his half-finished plate. "Yeah. After what happened with our older brother, I've had to fill in for him. For Val's sake."
Mort's eyes widen. "'Older brother'? How many brothers do ya have, anyway?"
"Eight. Well, seven. Now, quit asking questions. I've got to go to the bathroom." He stands up and leaves the others to their business.
While Zhen occupies himself with chowing down on his large meal, Joey says sternly, "You shouldn't have brought it up, Mort. That's your problem: you're too nosy for your own good."
"But he's never told me about any of this! I could help him—"
"Help him how? Give him a hug an' a sappy, rousing speech, an' expect everything to be sunshine and rainbows? Here's the news, in case you didn't get it: Life doesn't work that way! The kid is obviously suffering; meddling into his business will only mess things up worse."
"But I—"
"Don't give me those puppy-dog eyes, Mort! You should be grateful you never lost anyone." Mort opens his mouth to say something, but Joey interrupts with, "Animals don't count." He sighs and covers his face with the palm of his hand, his index finger and thumb rubbing against his temples. "You're a damned idiot. You're an idiot and a child. I can't believe I was ever friends with you." He slides his plate in Zhen's direction. "Take it. I lost my appetite." He gets up and exits the restaurant, not once looking back, even as he hears Mort slowly breaking down.
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