As Alan is trailing Ooshiro, Vincent and Mortimer are left to wait until their return. Five minutes later, Mort's decides he has enough of doing nothing and heads over to the postal room, where he finds Ooshiro and Dante. “Ah. Salut, Herr Mundy. Vhat a pleasure to meet you again. I vas just chatting vith Herr Same vhen you arrived. Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall take my leave now.” The RED Medic walks up to the Sniper and inspects him up and down. “My, my. You really are your father's son, aren't you?” Grabbing ahold of his chin, he stares deep into his eyes. “But your eyes are just like Mutter's. Quite a handsome fellow, if I say so myself.” He smiles and—in a blink—is gone.
“Bloke's a few eggs short of a basket,” Mort mutters as he scratches his head. “Oi, Sammy, have ya seen Al?”
Ooshiro, who is slipping a postcard and some letters into a mailbox, stops and blinks. “I'm not sure. I just remember leaving you guys and suddenly being here. I hope nothing bad has happened on the way here.”
“Well, maybe Al's just gone to the dunny. He'll be back soon. Hey, what's that?” He points at one of the letters, with an address written in strange symbols.
“These? I'm sending letters to my family back in Japan. My brothers and sisters have grown up and—as you would call it—'left the nest', so I have to write lots of letters to contact them all. It'd be easier to simply send them to my father's home, but...” He trails off, too distressed to speak further of it. “We should head back. Vincent and Astor-chan are probably waiting for us.”
They return to the main lobby, where Vince and Alan have been sitting and waiting impatiently. Alan runs up to Mort and, without warning, embraces him tightly. “Mortimer, where were you? I came back and zhen you were gone. And now Vinci's mad, shame on you!”
“It's all right,” Vince says, surprisingly calm. “You two came back safely, that's what matters most. Now that we're together, we should head over to the base.”
The base is not very far from the train station, located in a far-off lot closed off to town residents, and is relatively small, compared to Teufort. However, the mercs working with them are friendly, especially the Spy, a thin, dark-haired woman whose face reveals her many years of experience, wisdom, and stresses. “Hello, Vincent. It's been a while, hasn't it? And you've brought friends.”
“Y-yes. Ellen, this is Mortimer Mundy, Ooshiro Same, and Alan Astor. I brought them over to help us out. Guys, this is Ellen Etranger.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Her gaze falls on the young Spy, and she swiftly approaches him. “My, aren't you a precious little thing! You remind me of myself when I was a little girl.” She turns back to Vincent. “Frankly, I was expecting a little bit more firepower when I heard you were coming. But I suppose even with this group, we can find a way to balance the playing field. Little Astor will take over Spy duties, and I'll team up with Mr. Sammy. As for Mundy...” She glances down at the Sniper's thick, stumpy legs. “How fast can you run?”
With the general strategy laid out, the team heads into the locker rooms to change and load up. At the lady Spy's suggestion, Mortimer has set aside his knife and sniper rifle for smaller, lighter guns and a baseball bat. Meanwhile, Ellen herself has ditched her suit jacket to don a white lab coat, indicative of a Medic. Apprehensive about the sudden class changes, Vincent walks over and taps her on the shoulder. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Mort's never done anything like this before.”
“I haven't a clue, but I've got a good feeling about this,” she says as she puts one hand on his shoulder. “You're gonna have to trust me, Kaninchen.”
The Scout, having no other choice, agrees to put his trust in her judgment, but the lump in his throat still remains. With the rearrangement set in place, the team now consists of: two Scouts, two Medics, one Spy, one Demoman, a Pyro, a Soldier, and a Heavy. Not exactly Vince's idea of a perfect team, but with the team as support-heavy as it was, perhaps this can be considered an improvement. Perhaps.
As the gates fly open and the teams make a mad dash for the checkpoint on the railway, he sets his priorities on his goal: protecting the checkpoint from danger. Gripping his pistol, he aims and fires at the approaching Soldiers, careful not to run into the RED sentry in the process. As he fends off the front lines, his peripheral vision catches a view of the sentry deconstructing itself, folding and compressing itself back into its basest form. He is about to pick off the Engineer running to rebuild its beloved machine when they suddenly collapse, a knife stuck to their back. In all his years of working at BLU, never has Vince seen such precise and elegant work coming from a Spy. He would have been able to appreciate it for much longer, had the enemy Spy not already made quick work of him.
After being transported back via ReSyst, the Scout reenters the battlefield, whipping out his scattergun. But his focus is lost, as his aim becomes less accurate by the second. Only when he spots the RED Heavy mowing down his allies does he recover; a few stray bullets hit his leg in his rush to escape the fury. Cautiously approaching the Heavy, he is about to ambush them when the larger man suddenly falls, followed by the Medic following him. Fleeing the scene is Mortimer, scattergun in hand. Vince, resolved not to get distracted again, continues on towards the checkpoint, dodging Sniper shots and projectiles while trampling over the glowing red dot repeatedly until it finally registers his alliance. With the help of his teammates, his quick foot movements have given the BLU team a last-minute victory.
Later that afternoon, after the newly-won earnings have been evenly split and set to ship, the team meets up in the barracks for an extravagant celebratory feast. While munching on a chicken salad, Vince notices the rookie Spy has been eating more than usual, even without Mort's encouragement. The way he shovels down food without thought comes across as rather out-of-character, almost as if he is not himself. But then, maybe he's beginning to show his true colors. Whatever the case, Vince has a hard time keeping his eyes off of him.
“Vincent, ma boi!” Ellen pops out of nowhere to sit next to him. “I have to admit, you have a great eye for recruiting. Must have gotten it from Hartmann, hmm?”
“Me? It's not that I recruited them for any good reason. I just wanted to prove I could do it.”
“Do what?”
“Well, lead a good team, I guess. I mean, my team won the other day, but I owe that to Ooshiro. I guess I wanted to make sure that last victory wasn't just a fluke or something.” Fiddling with his hands, he says, “To be honest, I'm not sure if our victory had anything to do with me.”
“I'll admit, you did seem kind of off your game. Not that I would know how you usually play, considering it's been so long since we last worked together. But the fact remains that you chose rookies with so much potential and versatility, it's amazing. Looks like my little test turned out pretty well.”
“'Test'? Is that why you had Mort change classes out of the blue? For some stupid experiment?”
“Yes, but that's not the only reason. Right from the start, I knew Mort was different. Being a Spy, I have to have good instincts. And my instincts were telling me that he's being severely underused, talent-wise. Sure, he's not the fastest, but he's got good agility and jumping ability. Not to mention he can take a Heavy head-on and live. By putting him on the front lines, I've activated some long-dormant survival instincts, and it seems to have worked.”
Thinking long and hard in silence, Vince's brain starts conjuring up some questions. “So, if Mort really is more fit to be a Scout, then should I not have him snipe anymore?”
“Not necessarily. The fact that he can snipe and run fast are why he's so unique. My suggestion: train him to be the best of both worlds. Snipers are a useful asset to any team, but there's too many of them and not enough demand. Scouts, on the other hand, are more versatile and can help balance out a team lacking in muscle, even if they're a bit lacking in firepower compared to the big boys. I'm a Spy first and foremost, but I've enough knowledge and skill to pass off as a Medic when my team needs me most. That's why I'm pushing you to stretch out of your comfort zone.”
Vince stares at the Sniper and Spy, then turns back to Ellen. “But what about me? Should I really try? What if I mess up?”
“Bunny, you've messed up plenty of times before, yet you pick yourself up and keep trying 'til you succeed. That's what I like about you. Tell you what, why don't you two train together?”
“Train? You mean, I teach Mort how to be a Scout and—”
“—and he will teach you how to be a Sniper. I think it'll be perfect. You trust him, don't you? So there's no reason why you shouldn't try. And hey, it's definitely easier than being a Spy, lemme tell ya.”
“Now that you mention Spies, there's actually something I want to ask you about...”
Just then, collective gasps echo out as plates clatter. Alan, no longer seated, lies unconscious and bloated on the floor. Immediately, Vince stands, but stops as soon as he sees Mortimer picking him up and dragging him out of the room, with Ellen at his tail. After a moment's hesitation, he follows after them, in the hopes of providing moral support—and, if possible, a confession. Unfortunately, he and Mort have been locked out of the office, left to brood over the young Spy's fate.
“Alan?” Ellen nudges at his shoulder until he wakes up. “Are you all right?”
“Doing just fine, Mother,” Alan replies with a forced smile. “I simply overate. It's strange, these sudden cravings. I wonder if I have been drugged somehow.”
Recognizing the sudden lack of natural expression, her eyes widen. “A-Anonyme? Is that you?”
“Yes, it is I.”
“I cannot believe it. After all these years... to meet again like this. How has Father been?”
“He prefers being called 'Master Petrinni', but he is fine as well. He and Der Führer have recently begun collaborating, despite their rivalry. They seem to have taken advantage of Ooshiro Same's split personality and are using him for intelligence. My current mission is to take Alan's guise temporarily and spy on Mortimer Mundy.”
She sits quietly, biting her lip and furrowing her brow as she listens. “Mortimer Mundy? What use would he have for him? I mean, sure, he has potential, but he's a little... er, well, he's a few sheep short of a station, or whatever they say down there.”
“I don't believe his intelligence has anything to do with it,” Anonyme says, taking offense. “Mortimer Mundy is able-bodied, strong-willed, and very reputable within his team, regardless of his actual skill level in battle. And he's kind and optimistic, and...” Feeling a rush of blood flooding to their cheeks, they stop.
“Ah, you like him, dontcha? Well, if that's what floats your boat, I won't stop you. Just don't get too stalker-ish, you hear me? This is not just me talking Spy-to-Spy, I'm telling you this as your mother.”
“But Mother, Der Führer—”
“I don't care if it's the Queen of England that gave you the orders. You're in my base now, so you listen to me!”
Anonyme, mouth still agape from their last attempt to speak, shrinks and looks away. “Yes, ma'am,” they say with a timid voice.
“Not even bothering to fight back? Luca really has taught you well.” Perhaps a little too well, she mutters to herself. “You feeling better?” Anonyme nods, and Ellen kisses them on the forehead. “Good night, sweetie.” In an instant, Anonyme is out like a light.
Shortly afterwards, Alan wakes up, wondering what happened when his head starts throbbing. Looking around, he recognizes the bland furnishings and trademark tools of the trade and concludes that he fell unconscious for some unknown span of time and was resting in the doctor's office. Not Hartmann's, he has to remind himself, but another BLU, Ellen Etranger. Speaking of which, where is that woman? His eyes lay on the file cabinet in the corner, and a wide, catlike grin forms from his lips. “Since I'm here, it wouldn't hurt to do a little bit of snooping about.”
While Alan does exactly that, Ellen returns to show his friends around the barracks and to their rooms, and leaves them to their business. Then Vincent starts assigning roommates: Mort will be sleeping with Ooshiro, while Alan shares a room with the Scout himself. Mort protests, creating an argument that dissipates only upon the Spy's return. Luck is not by the Scout's side, nor is it on Alan's. For all their bickering, Ooshiro ends up with the guest of honor.
“Sorry you have to deal with that,” Ooshiro says with a pang of guilt. “But I believe this arrangement will help Mort and Vincent to make amends.” He casually ignores the muffled bickering from the next room over and continues undressing.
“I hope so.” Alan winces at the sound of some unknown object being thrown at the wall. At least, he hopes it's an object. He strips his layers of clothing and slips on a rather girlish-looking nightgown. But before he can reach the bunk ladder, Ooshiro steps in front of him.
“You're feeling unwell, aren't you? You did have a large meal earlier.” Noting the baffled look on the Spy's face, he bites his tongue, then climbs up the ladder and crawls into bed. “Uh, rest well, Astor-chan. Oyasuminasai!”
Flopping himself on the bottom bunk, Alan closes his eyes and starts reeling his brain, recalling the events of the day. According to Ooshiro, he overate, which would explain the bloated, heavy feeling and his ending up in the office. But what else happened? Why were Vince and Mort fighting over him? Could they be fighting over me? He blushes at the thought of being the object of affection for not one, but two men (and perhaps a third, if Ooshiro's gentlemanly behavior isn't restricted solely to him). Though not being able to remember anything that happened today is a bit of a problem. Ah, well. I'll just ask Mort in the morning. Flushed with satisfaction, he drifts off into Slumberland.
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