Who? RED Engineer and RED Demo What? Invasion of the sacred workshop leads to breaking and entering in the name of great justice and getting Engineer some aspirin. Where? Ultimately, the RED infirmary. Which, you'll be happy to know, is no longer locked. It also no longer has doors.
For a base that boasted a size of roughly half passed excessive, Wes was finding that there was little in the way of entertainment outside of simple exploratory amusement. There were doors that opened, some that didn't, corridors that lead 'round in circles, and stairwells that were more for show than functionality. To be honest, it was confusing and frustrating, but there was some charm in the idea of getting lost inside RED that kept him from losing his temper. With this in mind, Wes continued to stumble his way around, half-assed directions made up on the fly - pointing left and going right being chief; he was getting no where fast and somewhat enjoying himself.
At least, he reasoned, he would have a better idea of where he was if, by chance, he managed to get turned around during a skirmish. Why he'd be this far from the field, however...Well, it didn't matter. For now, though, it was sound reasoning. Turned around as he was, Wes was surprised when he happened upon a section of the base he knew he had no reason to be near: The Workshops. The importance of the place was flashing in neon lettering behind his eyelids. Curiosity surpassed good sense as well because he ignore the cautionary warning his brain sent in pulses between the bold flashing and made his way towards a reasonably uninviting doorway to have a nosy.
Engineers are, by their nature, intensely secretive creatures and therefore naturally suspicious of everyone they work with. ANYONE could be a spy, and not just in the suit-wearing-backstabby sense of the word. RED Engineer was no exception to this urge. Even he had figured out fairly early on in college that while it was all right to make friends with people and possibly okay to help them out from time to time, anything really good should be jealously guarded, lest that asshole across the hall get an internship with your work. He'd learned that lesson the hard way.
On the flip side of things, RED Engineer was also a naturally absent-minded person. This trait meant that he probably wasn't going to go far in the Engineering world, or if he did, it would be very slowly. It also meant that when Wes approached one of the workshop doors, he'd find it unlocked and actually slightly ajar. It was also unoccupied, though the lights were on, suggesting that someone would be back shortly. In the meantime though, Wes was free to poke around, should he so desire.
The workshop itself was a long rectangular room, somewhere in the area of 30x40 feet, though it was hard to tell the exact size with the sheer amount of junk which had already materialized and begun some sort of process of mitosis which would eventually see every inch of free space filled with bits of scrap metal, assorted nuts and bolts, bits of wiring and all manner of esoteric devices. Work benches were built into the far wall and ran the length of the room. These had been supplemented by two more trestle tables along the wall to Wes's right and a number of bookshelves along the wall opposite the work benches. Just beyond the bookshelves was the beginnings of what could only be called a nerd nest - a pile of pillows, blankets, and a beanbag chair in front of a metal shelving unit which housed a large but somewhat elderly TV and what appeared to be every gaming system known to man. Behind the shelves was a mess of wires that looked ready to burst into flames the second someone looked at them wrong.
There was plenty in the workshop to keep a man interested, at least for a moment or two (much, much longer if you were an engineer) but at the moment the most arresting sight was probably the hack saw on the floor next to a set of smaller bookshelves with little wheels on them and a small, but definitely noticeable splatter of blood on the floor, with a matching streak across the side of one of the shelves.
The disarray was, quite frankly, alarming. He was of the mind that though the Engineering ilk got their hands dirty and were often found with amidst rolls of blueprints and scattered machinery, they were a tidy, organized folk. Everything in its place and a place for everything type, assuredly. This, the clutter and what could only be accounted as /junk/ that littered every available surface stated otherwise. It just didn't make sense to Wes and warranted further investigation, especially the gaming station that looked more like a fire hazard than a fun way to waste time. Though, as he ventured further in and got a better eye full of the contents at range, he began to wonder if it was such a good idea to tresspass- he'd seen the bloodstain, afterall. It was a splash of color that he could have done without but it didn't exactly phase him as it probably ought to. If a bit of blood bothered him then he was in the wrong line of work. But it did beg the question of just what was the absent Engie had been doing to get himself injured. He was no detective but a bit of poking around might yield answers.
What the RED Engineer had been doing was building bookshelves for the Pyro. He'd actually completed them and then had smacked his hand against a carelessly places hacksaw, which explained his current absence. Or rather, explained what had been his absence, as a short, frizzy-haired figure appeared in the doorway of the workshop. The engineer's left hand was swathed in a large amount of gauze and being held rather gingerly against his stomach to keep it from accidentally being smacked into anything - now that the initial "oh heavens, I'm bleeding' adrenaline rush had worn off, the wound throbbed in a rather insistent manner, which wasn't helping the Engineer's disposition any. He was, on the whole, quite easy going, but the edge of that general bonhomie had been taken off by bleeding all over the place and not being able to get into his own damn infirmary. It was not a good time to find someone In His Space.
"HEY!" The outraged squawk was not terribly intimidating, though it was quite heartfelt in its indignation. "What are you doing in here? Did you touch anything? Did you BREAK anything?" The wounded hand was suddenly forgotten as Engineer advanced on the man in his workspace. He wasn't 100% sure who he was, in point of fact - he hadn't actually MET all of his team mates yet and though Wes's jumpsuit was RED and had his emblem on the shoulder, Engineer hadn't actually noticed that in his fit of territorial anger.
When working with volatile chemicals and mixtures of substances of an explosive nature, it didn't pay to have nerves that frayed and jumped at a sudden surprise. It was probably the only reason Wes managed to keep from dropping the object currently teetering within his grasp, some random piece of metal from an equally random pile laying about, from slipping through his fingers to clatter noisily to the floor. That wasn't to say that he hadn't been startled. He replaced the object and slipped his hands into his pockets to grasp at the soft lining while he turned towards the voice with a chagrined smile playing across his lips. "Well, in my defense, the door just happened to be open as I walked by and I'm part cat with the curiosity." His mother told him he ought to curb that least he meet the unfortunate fate of said cat. "I don't think I broke anything that I touched seein' as practically everything in here looks like you got to it before I did on that front." He cant his head towards a pile of mess for emphasis and smiled wider, "Name's Wes and I'm the Demoman currently hashing your calm."
Up close, the Engineer looked quite young - enough so that a person would be forgiven for wondering if he was old enough to be working on base - and even his obviously genuine anger ended up sort of...cute. Like an angry puppy. He didn't seem to know how to look properly angry, so he just ended up looking a bit hurt and upset instead, in spite of his scowling. "I cut my hand! Was I supposed to wait to bleed out while I locked up or something?" There was nowhere near enough blood anywhere for that to have been an issue.
Obviously still fuming, Engineer stomped over to where Wes was standing, ducked around behind him, and then began bodily pushing him towards the door. "I know your room probably doesn't have a lock on it but you don't see ME going snooping around in it!" Pause, then in tones of heightened indignation, which should not have been physically possible: "It's not BROKEN, you just don't know what you're looking at!"
Maybe it was the fact that the boy was just that, a boy, that Wes found it more amusing than much else to be pushed around, not that it was going to do the littlest Engie any good if Wes decided to plant his feet. For the most part, he let himself be pushed but did sidestep after a few feet. "Are you always this cheerful to guests and teammates, or am I just the lucky puck that gets to see your sweet side first?" It wasn't really a question to be answered, more a diversion to keep the fellow RED occupied with something other than pushing him out the door. "And it looks broken. Hell, son, even your wires look like they just need a warm breeze to catch fire! Tell me I'm wrong and I'll believe you but I can't help what I see, kiddo."
To be fair, the wires for the gaming systems were a bit of a mess, but they could be cleaned up later and anyway, electrical fires were typically only an issue in older buildings with bad wiring. He knew the wiring in his equipment was just fine and probably the wiring in the building was fine too. At least he hasn't been able to find any really obvious mistakes. More importantly, Engineer was not exactly in the mood to admit to any mistakes at the moment. It wasn't uncommon for people to treat the Engineer like he was just a kid, though that didn't make it any less annoying when it happened. He pulled up short and glared daggers - adorable inflatable daggers that wouldn't actually stab anything, but daggers nonetheless - at Wes. "Excuse me, I have a DOCTORATE. Have you even been to school or do they just hand you a copy of the Anarchist's Cookbook and call it a day?" He was quite pleased with that particular insult and looked at Wes smugly as he crossed his arms. A second later the smug look faltered and he winced as he pressed a bit too firmly against the cut on his hand in the process of crossing his arms. He carefully uncrossed them again.
"I didn't exactly get a proper education as to have a nifty piece of paper proclaiming my achievements, but I'd like to think I'm a better than you average fuckwad with a persecution complex and a want to cause a problem." Of course he was being paid to cause a problem but not for the want of it. It was a job and the pay was good.so why not? Still, it rankled just a bit to be talked at like he was less for his lack. He let the agitation go, though. It'd do neither of them any good to go picking a fight, especially with a guy that could rig his shorts to fry him if the kid was so inclined. Wes licked at the corner of his mouth and rocked back on his heels. "No Medic, eh? Your hand alright there?"
Of course, looking at the Engineer, it wasn't hard to guess that his arrogance was mostly a cover for the fact that he was a small, nerdy man who didn't often get the chance to one-up people unless it was through parading around his own intellectual accomplishments. If you've got it, flaunt it, right? And if it's the only thing you've got, rub everyone's face in it and hope they don't notice it's the only thing you've got. Luckily, Engineer's capacity for sustained ire directed at another person was remarkably short, at least when they weren't fellow Engineers.
"...Yeah, s'fine. I went over to BLU and had their Medic patch me up," he said with a shrug, affecting an attitude of nonchalance that was fairly obviously forced. Trying to be cool and failing miserably. He wasn't sure what to make of Wes - a good looking guy, obviously not very nerdy in appearance, which meant there was always a risk of him turning out to be a douchy jock type of guy who would end up making fun of the Engineer behind his back.
There was something in the papers about fraternization, he thought. It wasn't a good idea to be getting on friendly terms with the supposed - air quotes were being mimed if only in his head - enemy. Not that it would matter one way or another as long as you kept your head during a dust up and did your job. Any hesitation or favoritism was surely going to be noticed sooner or later and get a person's ass booted out of Class. Or so he assumed - he was doing a lot of that. If it happened then it happened, but he'd like to steer clear of it for awhile yet, and just might like to keep his team from the chopping block too if he could help it. But he couldn't, and wouldn't, blame the Engie for seeking aid from the only Medic walking around, even if the man happened to be BLU. If the doctor was qualified for the healing then Wes wouldn't begrudge a guy for crossing the lines instead of doing a personal patch up. God only knew who else in this place knew how to stitch a gash or set bones, and even that was basically the bare bones of what remedial first aid knowledge he possessed. Still, it'd be nice if RED sent a quack their way sometime soon. "Noticed you wincin', bucko. No painkillers being passed your way or you just that much a lightweight?"
"Haven't kicked in yet..." muttered Engineer, looking sullen. He had to resist the urge to cross his arms again and ended up with them hanging rather uselessly at his sides. He fiddled with the belt loops of his overalls for a second or two before he remembered that he'd been trying to get rid of Wes. "Hey! Why are you still here? Out!" He gave the Demoman a little one-handed shove and began trying to herd him towards the door again. This was hampered somewhat by the way he was gingerly using his left hand and trying to avoid any further jostling of bandaged appendage.
"Now there's no need to be like that, fella," Wes whined, all but pouting. He let himself get pushed again but planted his feet after the first nudge. "Nothin' doin', little man. I haven't done anything wrong other than minor trespass so there's no need to get your panties all in a bunch." It's not as if he planned to camp out in this disaster area or anything. He just wanted a nosy to see what was what and where it went, that's all. Besides, the Engineer was turning out to be the best entertainment opportunity RED base had to offer at the moment. Wes wasn't going to be giving that up so soon without a better reasoning than the kid's annoyance. "You're actually the first RED that I've happened upon today, one that I haven't actually met in some form or fashion so I think I'd like to sit a bit and have a chat. It's only proper to get to know your neighbor after all."
"This is MY workshop!" The Engineer did not actually stamp his foot, but his tone implied heavily that he very well might have if he hadn't been trying to trying to shove Wes out of the room at the moment. He pulled up short when Wes said that he wanted to sit and have a chat though. He blinked at the Demo, apparently taken completely off guard by that. "Wait, really?" Try not to look too excited, Engie, it's a bit pathetic. He was totally, pathetically excited by that prospect though - most people tended to tune him out pretty quickly and he had long ago become used to rambling on to the back of people's heads, being rather slow on the uptake as to when a conversation was over.
Now back in his schooling days, Wes had never been the type to care about social hierarchy, chatting up whomever he felt like without a thought to status. Sometimes it panned out and sometimes he went home nurses a few sore spots because of it. Wes got the distinct impression that the Engineer wasn't quite so lucky. He wouldn't call the guy on it or anything but the flip flopping was kind of telling. Instead, he shrugged and gave a nod. "What? You think I like making a nuisance of myself for the fun of it? Of course, really. I'm a personable fellow, ya know; like meeting and greetin', that sort of thing."
"Well, why ELSE would you make a nuisance of yourself?" pointed out Engineer, arching his brow as he looked at Wes skeptically. "Also, just because I'm letting you stay doesn't mean that you're off the hook for snooping around in my workshop," he added with a glare. "I don't know how long you've been working as a Demoman, but you ought to know by now that Engineers don't take kindly to people snooping around in their stuff. And if you didn't, you do now. Next time, I'm going for the shotgun. Fair warning." He would not, in fact, go for the shotgun. In general the RED Engineer tried to avoid shooting people himself and let his sentries take care of that for him. He felt less guilty about that - it was more like a video game or something if the sentry did it. No triggers for him to pull.
Wes pulled his hands from his pockets and lifted them in a placating gesture. "Wouldn't dream of thinkin' otherwise, kiddo." He didn't care one way or another since he figured he was at least somewhat forgiven for his trespassing anyway. The engineer didn't seem the type to really hold a grudge, though, so maybe the little incident might be forgotten in time. Well, maybe not since Wes had already made a mental note to come back at some random time and bother the guy again. It wouldn't do to let Engie think he was going to get rid of him after this. That's just not how you treated a friend after all. "I'll take it as due warning, though you just lost your chance at an object lesson. A gut wound would have done wonders with helping me remember a little thing like that." He was going to take the warning to heart, though. He would be checking the door for triggers and traps from now on too. "I'll knock next time, how's that?"
Engineer put his good hand on his hip and fixed Wes with a calculating look. "That only works if you don't come in if no one answers when you knock." Traps on the door really weren't the Engineer's style, if only because he tended to forget about things like that and really the only way that would end was with his own arm getting blown off. That was just embarrassing on a whole new level, well beyond the shame of accidentally cutting himself on his own hack saw. Wes was definitely right about one thing though - he was mostly forgiven for today's intrusion, in spite of Engineer's continued - and quite empty - threats. "And don't call me kiddo! I bet we're the same age. I might even be older than you."
He was not going to make any promises since, as he'd mentioned before, his curiosity often got the better of him. Besides, he'd seen what the reclusive engineer was hiding in this workshop and some of it was just to alluring to simply let sit unmolested where disapproving eyes were elsewhere. /While the Engie's away, Demo is gonna play./ He hummed to himself, smiling neutrally at the other. Wes, also, latched on to the latter half like a limpet and his smile broadened. "You'll just have to let me have that, /son/. Where I come from, kiddo is pretty much a universal term. It doesn't have to denote age, ya know. Would you rather I called you darlin'?" Because he would. He so would if only to get a rise out of the little guy. "And I very much doubt you're anywhere close to my age. You look like you haven't hit the upper twenties yet. If I don't have at least ten years on you then I'll...well I probably won't do more than laugh, but you get the idea."
"I'd rather you called me Engineer!" Or possibly 'Mr. Engineer' or even 'Mr. Engineer, sir'. However he was pretty certain that both of those were never going to happen - at least not anytime soon - and requesting them was an open invitation to mockery. And yes, 'darlin'' would no doubt get a rise out of Engineer. "I'm...twenty four. So you're probably actually older," he admitted grudgingly. Now that he looked a bit closer at Wes, it was easier to see that. Engineer, for all his cleverness, was often fairly slow on the up-take. He was smart, just not /observant/.
"Huh. Kind of glad I didn't finish that last bit then because I'd be doing whatever it was right about now; I'm a man of my word." So the engineer /was/ in his twenties but not that far. He sure didn't look it. It might have just been the glasses and the boy's demeanor, all spit and vinegar, and youthful indignation. Either way, Wes was honestly surprised the engie was that far past his teens. He supposed he shouldn't be since the younger recruits he'd ever seen had all been slotted into the Scout class. He shook his head and tucked his hands back in his pockets."I'll call you Lucy on Tuesdays and Sir on Sunday morning, but that's about as good as it gets I'm afraid. But I'll see about keeping 'Engineer' at the forefront."
Most Engineers tended to skew towards the older end of twenty anyway. RED Engineer had gone to a classed engineering-track school for high school, which meant that he'd come into college with a number of classes under his belt already and had made it to his Junior year ahead of schedule. He'd then spent two miserable years as a junior, which he did his best to put out of his mind as much as possible. As far as he was concerned he'd mysteriously blacked out from 22 to 23 and had no idea what had happened.
"...I'll take the 'sir', but please don't call me Lucy," he huffed. "Otherwise I'll have to call you Sharon or something and I get enough weird looks as it is." He flashed Wes a little smile, slightly shy - not quite sure if playing along with this joke was going to get a good response or not.
That little smile made Wes' creep higher, growing warmer. He loved bantering about like he didn't have a care in the world and good friends to share the moment with. He wasn't quite there yet, what with this place being new to him and the people in it virtual strangers, but he decided early on that he'd get there one way or another. Seemed the engie was well on his way to helping him out in that regard. "Sharon? I always though of myself more a Shannon or a Laura, but Sharon isn't too shabby." He waggled his brows in an overly exaggerate manner and rocked back on his heels again. His good mode was cemented now, no going back from this point forward. "So what, exactly have you been doin' in here to amass this kind of clutter in such a short amount of time?" [2010-10-26 19:04:34] "No, you're definitely a Sharon," replied Engineer firmly. Oh good, playing along was met with approval, not further teasing. That was nice. He looked around the workshop in response to Wes's question, for a moment appearing quite confused. In the eyes of the Engineer, this was pretty tidy, all things considered. Sure, not everything was put away yet and at some point he needed more small storage units, but over all...this wasn't bad. He knew where everything was. "Uh...I unpacked? It's not as bad as it looks. Ask me where anything is, I can totes tell you. There is a method to my madness!" A bright, hopeful grin - someday, /someone/ will actually believe that statement.
Madness he could definitely see but not so much the method. He'd believe the engineer, though. It wasn't like his own workshop - nothing more than a sectioned off area of some sort of storage unit that housed ammunition and what looked spare building materials - looked a bit dodgy after he got into the thick of things. He did clean up after himself and mostly any type of clutter was kept clear. The engineer's workspace, however, would probably never have the floor clear during the boy's tenure here at RED. Wes didn't know if that was amusing or a little disturbing. He'd make his decision at a later date, right now their friendly relationship was still in its infancy and he didn't want to damage it by starting to nag about the mess. "As long as you don't trip over something or cut yourself again, yeah?"
Much of the current floor clutter was boxes of various kinds, including some rather heavy duty wooden crates which appeared to be unopened thus far. "I'm not normally that clumsy." This was a lie - he was always fairly clumsy, but he'd gotten much better about being careful about it. Engineer would have been a very, very bad Demoman indeed. Luckily, Engineering was a tiny bit more forgiving, though not much. His second Junior year had been a merciless quest for precision in his work. It had, to be fair, taught him a lot of little tricks to compensate for his natural tendency towards forgetfulness and clumsiness. It just hadn't been fun at all. "It wasn't even that bad a cut, it's just that the infirmary was locked..."
"Presents a problem," Wes commented, mostly absently as his brows furrowed in apprehensive confusion. He knew there wasn't a Medic on the books but that didn't warrant a total lock down of the infirmary. Engineer had been hurt and hadn't had access to basic first aid material. That wouldn't do at all. "Well I know a thing or two about locks, I'll give the one on Medical's door when I skip outta here." Hopefully RED had recruited them a quack and the man, or woman, was on their way, otherwise, when the fighting started, they were going to be up shit creek without a paddle.
"Well, BLU Medic said he'd come over and see if his key works - we might as well try that first. I mean, there's a pretty good chance. They're pretty lazy..." 'They' of course being Mann Co and whoever they employed. Engineer hadn't been the least bit surprised when the infirmary had been locked for no reason, just terribly annoyed. "And, I mean, after that I was just gonna take the handle off the door and install a new one. No big deal..." he said with a studied look of nonchalance. Any chance to show off his skills was a good thing, even if he would be complaining about the fact that he'd had to do it for the next week.
The idea of a BLU walking so freely inside their base didn't sit too well with Wes. The idea was for the two factions to fight one another, not pal around. Such an innocent gesture could hide a more sinister intent. Little briefcases stuffed full of /intelligence/ waiting to be stolen was their objective in this crazy /war/. Having access to the enemy base beforehand could potentially tip the scales, right? But the engie said the BLU Medic had a key that could potentially open the door to their infirmary, a place they would definitely need free access too. That detail, /the key/, was something that bothered Wes even more than the idea of the man waltzing into their base. He, also, understood he was being a hypocrite since he was actually grateful that their engineer was able to seek medical attention, and receive it, from the opposing side. It was a right nice thing to do, honestly, honorable even. Still, he had his misgivings of allowing the man to come over here and test that key. "It'd be no trouble and I say we give the lock a go first before resorting to askin' a favor from BLU."
"I already told him he could come and try it, so please don't shoot him or something." Engineer obviously took a much more blase approach to base security. Of course, he'd been working on bases for a while now and the RED/BLU divide was not very pronounced anymore in his mind. "But I suppose if we get it open before he comes over, I'll just send him a message over BJ and save him a trip What did you have in mind exactly?"
"And yet you didn't say anything about blowing him up," He chuckled. He wasn't going to do anything so drastic as actually /hurt/ the BLU during downtime even if he didn't like the fact that the man was going to be walking, freely, into their base. He could swallow his misgivings and shoulder his dislike if it was really necessary, and if they couldn't get that door open. "It all depends on what type of lock is sittin' on the door. If it's electronic then, well, you're the Engineer, Luce. If it's something a little more manual then I might could do something about getting it open."
"You know what I meant!" huffed Engineer, looking put out. "The door isn't anything difficult - just a regular lock. I just didn't have time to jimmy it open on my own. On account of the bleeding." Very insistent on that point - a matter of pride, perhaps.
Wes waved him off with a newly released hand trailing pocket lint. "Of course, of course. I'm not sayin' you shoulda jimmied it with a hurt paw or anything, I was just making a point. I'm alright with programming a VCR clock and some of the components used in my kit, but anything else is like askin' a blind man to paint a Kickasso. I'm pretty sure I could figure it out with enough trail and error but why do that when the base has a top notch engineer in its employ? If it's just a regular ol' lock, though, I could have it opened in a jiff. It's all a matter of gettin' a look at it."
Top notch engineer indeed. Way to blatantly stroke his ego, Wes. Of course, it worked too. A hint of satisfaction crept into Engineer's smile. "It's just a regular lock. You can take a look at it, I don't mind. I mean, I've already been putting locks on the other doors and I shouldn't have to do that, it's not /really/ my job." Even if he does like feeling useful just because he got to do that. That's sure as hell not going to stop him from complaining about The Powers That Be and their inability to construct a properly working base. It offends him as a craftsman.
Wes wasn't banking on a lot of effort being needed, especially if the lock was as simple as the engie implied it to be. A gentle touch and a swift kick might be all that was needed to get it open, but he wasn't going to assume anything. Just because it seemed simple to the engineer didn't mean it would be simple to him. "Well, then," Wes laughed and reached across to pat the engie's shoulder. "Lead the way, yeah? I...I've gotten a little turned around and not so sure I can find my way back." He'd find a map of the place and memorize the damn thing at some point.
"Sure thing," replied Engineer, beaming. So pleased to be included in this little venture. He lead the way out of the room and down the hall to the right, which Wes would notice was the direction he'd come from. A few turns and largely identical hallways later and they'd arrived at the double doors that were the main entrance to the infirmary. They were indeed quite locked. "Do you get a workshop too? Where is that?" asked Engineer as they walked. "I haven't explored a whole lot yet, since I've been trying to get my space set up. It was such a pain getting clearance to bring in extra boxes and stuff, you have no idea. It's like they don't want you to get any work done, I swear. I mean, really, how am I going to do ANYTHING productive without a full set of Albertson Adjusters and a Kapperton-pattern Teleport Filter?" He gave a much put-upon sigh. Clearly, the life of an Engineer is fraught with difficulties of all kinds.
Noticing and actually taking note of were separate things in Wes' world. Sure he paid attention to detail when it really mattered but this was base, home for the moment, and new to boot. He didn't see the need to know about every nook and cranny right off the bat, preferring to just stroll around and eventually figure things out. It didn't help him in the here and now, of course, but the engineer was being a right pal about it and leading him around. He'd ask after a map, or where he could procure one, after seeing about that lock. Eventually they arrived at the infirmary and Wes wasted no time in getting up close and personal with them, eying the obstacle that barred them from possible life saving equipment and items. He pat at his pants pockets but knew there would be nothing in them. It was a fine time to forget his pouch. "I'm sure there's one around marked off for demolitions but I haven't actually looked for it. I've been making things in my room, mostly." Probably not the safest place to do quality work but he'd slept in worse hazard spots than that. If he didn't blow himself up, Wes didn't see a problem with it. He ran a hand along the seam of the door as he glanced over his shoulder at his companion. "If I had any idea what a...er, well what either of those things were I might could give you an answer. All I can say is, we do what we can with what we got and move on."
"You know, it'd be kind a funny - sad funny - if they gave the Engineers two giant workshops and forgot to give the Demos anything," remarked Engineer with a short laugh. "Though I think your stuff is supposed to be done, like, X number of feet from a dwelling or something, so you probably have your place in one of those little out-buildings that no one has gone to. You're probably breaking all kinds of rules doing it in your bedroom," he added cheerfully, apparently not overly worried. He was about to follow up with a detailed explanation of the many uses of Albertson adjusters and the importance of a properly calibrated Kapperton-pattern Teleport Filter and then realized that Wes probably didn't care and wouldn't have understood if he did care because there was really no way to explain a Kepperton Filter without first having three classes in the basics of how teleporters took you apart into your component atoms, among other things. It would take way too long.
"If you won't tell I won't." He would, however, get out to one of those secluded buildings and see if there was a sign or something indicating whether or not it was for his ilk or not. It would be nice to have a bit more room to stretch out too and not have to worry about kicking over something that could take half the room, not to mention his leg, with it in the resulting explosion. "Yeah, alright. I'll out there after getting this door open." The door wasn't going to give up its secrets if Wes didn't start /asking/ it the right kind of questions and that type of thing wasn't going to happen if he kept pawing at it while flapping his jaws. It was a pretty standard door from the looks of it and he bet it came with a similarly standard locking mechanism. If it was a deadbolt and lock combination then there'd be problems unless he could weasel a flat head out of the little engineer. He could just pry it open and be done with it, but that would damage the door. The hinges, though? He could live with dinging those suckers. "Any chance you might have a hammer and hex key on ya?"
Engineer gave a little snort. "Give me half a second and I will," he said before dashing off down the hallway. He returned a few minutes later, slightly out of breath, and bearing a large metal toolbox. "Figured it'd be good to bring the whole thi - Oh my god." He stared at the doors, his eyes wide and mouth falling slightly slack. "WHY are the hinges on the OUTSIDE OF THE DOOR? Are you KIDDING ME? THEY INSTALLED THE DOOR BACKWARDS? HOW DO YOU EVEN /DO/ THAT?" He set the toolbox down with a bang and stomped over to the doors, glaring at them in a way that suggested that they had best explain themselves immediately. The doors remained reticent and improperly installed. "Well gee, I guess it's good that when we lock the infirmary, nothing inside can take the doors off the hinges!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air and stalking over to the other side of the hallway. "I'm officially washing my hands of this."
/Off like a shot, that one/, Wes couldn't help but chuckle under his breath as he watched the boy speed off, presumably, towards the workshop they had just come from. It didn't take his friend long to get back, hefting a bulky looking toolbox with him. It made a horrible metallic scrapping thump as it hit the floor but it did nothing to detract from the noise the engie was making. Actually, it was kind of amusing. Wes crouched down and started rummaging through the box for the tools he needed. "So they hired the cheapest bastards they could find. Are you really that surprised?" /Ah ha!/ He pulled out a thick looking hex and grabbed at the handle of a hammer, hefting them both above his head as if they were a prize to be shown off. "Besides, we can fix 'em afterward. Won't take but a few minutes. Twenty, tops."
"I'm ignoring this," replied Engineer primly. "I'm pretending none of this is happening. This hurts my /soul/." He was in fact leaning against the wall, half turned away from the infirmary doors and doing a passing good imitation of a completely disinterested bystander. There was a moment or two of silence before he piped up again: "If you break any of my tools I will do horrible things to you with a wrench. Just so you know."
"You can't tell but I'm absolutely terrified, Engie." And he would be if he actually thought the kid would hurt him. They were on the same team and it's not like Wes was going to intentionally screw up the tools. They might be a little scraped up but apart from that he was fairly certain that the hammer and hex would be just fine. His fingers, though, might come out worse for wear afterward. Regardless, he knee-walked to the door and lined up the allen wrench with the flat end of the bolt.
Engineer's boycott of all things related to the infirmary door lasted for all of two minutes before he abandoned his post at the far wall and crouched down next to Wes. "So...how long have you been working as a Demo?" he asked after a watching Wes work for a moment or two. He didn't really have much else to talk about, but it seemed like a decent conversation starter. It worked with most classed people, at any rate.
Another careful strike, another millimeter's worth of progress. This was going to take awhile and mostly likely by the end of it Wes' wrist was going to be stiff and both hands useless. Not something he was looking forward to. The question, though, was a good enough distraction and he latched onto it readily. "The last seven years, actually. I'm not a born and breed Classer like I imagine most of the troopers are 'round here. I use to work on a farm before I found I had a knack for blowing shit up."
"Well, I dunno, it's usually pretty evenly split," said Engineer thoughtfully. He leaned back and sat down hard on his ass with a small "oof" sound. Not the most graceful person, this Engineer. "I mean, my parents are Classed, but they're the only ones in the family. ...Well, no, my Grandma was a DoV - " Pronounced 'dove', so if Wes had no idea who the Daughters of Vulcan were, he'd remain in the dark, as Engineer blithely chattered on without explaining. "And, you know, Dale is a proper spy, apparently. I don't know if they really count as Classed. I mean, they do, but they don't...they do REAL work." Pause, then: "I mean, I do real work too. I could be doing this anywhere, really, it's just a lot more fun to get to test it out right away and not have to worry about funding... Of course, less resources, but sometimes having less to work with means you have to be more creative. It's kind of fun." There was another pause as he hauled the tool box across the floor and rummaged around in it. He had a second hammer, did he have another hex key too? Time to find out. "So, you worked on a farm? What kind of farm? What needs blowing up on a farm anyway? Or was that extra-curricular?"
Wes spared a glance at the engineer and smashed his knuckle for his inattention. He hissed and shook his hand, not that it dulled the pain. "Don't think anyone in my family is Classed, but I don't know that for sure. Haven't got a clue about my dad's side of the family." The man disappeared on a hunting trip and hadn't been seen in twenty years. Wes hadn't and would never entertain the thought that the man had walked out on his mother and him. He pushed away the unhappy thoughts and shook his head, "No, I think you've got it right. This place, what we do? It's not exactly like we're making an active and vital contribution now is it? I mean, I'm sure there's a grand reasoning behind all this tomfoolery we're getting up to, but do you honestly think it has an impact?" He didn't exactly want to run off at the mouth and talk out of turn, but he didn't see where all this back and forth was getting anyone outside of the weapon's industry. Sure, you didn't want to send an untested weapon out on a /real/ war front but did that really warrant all this? Maybe. Maybe not. Who knew how the pencil pushers and top brass justified all this. Well, that was puzzle for another day since this door was being damn stubborn about giving up its bolts. "Stumps, mostly. You could haul them out of the ground with a tractor after digging a small trench around it, but that takes too long and often ruins the tractor. Harvey -that's my old boss- had a small box of tnt stubs in the shed but we were clearin' out a field the size of a football stadium so it wasn't going to be enough. Long story short, he didn't have to buy any more tnt and he paid my medical bills after the first test batch of homemade explosives."
"Well, that was nice of him," said Engineer in tones that suggested that the fact that it had to be done at all was totally normal and understandable. As a rather accident-prone person himself, it seemed only natural that trial and error come with a bit of pain. "Lucky you didn't blow your hand off. Though of course you find the right Engineer and they could have fixed you up good as new," he added with a laugh. At long last his searching unearthed another set of hex wrenches and he scooted down to the other door and set to work on the bottom hinge. "I've always thought the bases were a kinda Cold War thing...you know, mutually assured destruction or whatever - but privatized. Well, I mean, the bases were around way before the Cold War but the idea is the same, I think..."
The loss of an appendage hadn't been on the forefront of his mind at the time and still wasn't. The potential to get himself killed was a bonus in Wes' books. He wasn't suicidal, not by a long shot. He just liked the adrenaline rush. Though maybe he ought to fess up and mention he'd lost a couple of toes and most of his pants that first test run. There was no need to mention it so he didn't.
"You'd know better than me, ki--Engie. I don't actually know more than part of what I read in those recruitment pamphlets or on a passing poster. Hell, I barely read most of that fuckin' thick contract." He shuddered and gave the hex a vicious whack. "Tiny print and legalese are not something I get along with."
"Yeah, no one reads the contract - I don't think it really matters. I mean, if there was anything nasty in there, SOMEONE would have noticed and complained by now, right? I mean, we are technically unionized...more or less..." Ah, such trust. Engineer had signed based on the fact that his parents said it was okay to sign, and that was good enough for him. They wouldn't lead him astray, right? "It's not like they're gonna SAY what the real purpose is anyway. That's why there's all those websites with crazy people coming up with goofy conspiracy theories and stuff. No one knows." He gave a little snort. "It'd be kind of funny if we didn't actually HAVE a purpose anymore - like, they forgot or already achieved it or something and we just keep doing this and getting paid anyway."
"It's kinda nice that someone's got that kind of faith in the /system/ because it sure as hell isn't me." To be perfectly honest, Wes wouldn't trust either so-called company as far as he could throw them and that sure as heck wasn't that far. They both seemed a little dodgy on the outside and weren't looking any better from the inside. Still, RED employed him with minimal fuss and was paying him a pretty penny for blowing shit up. "Bite you tongue, son. Bite it good and hard!" Wes turned away from the door and brandished the hammer at the engineer. "Because it would just figure if that's *exactly* what's happened and this whole thing, this little /War/, is so far from pointless we're all hanging by a thread over some lava filled chasm."
Engineer shrugged. "It's not going anywhere, it's been here for AGES and if they shut us down, think how many people would suddenly be unemployed. Unstable people with /lots of guns/." Every so often, Engineer did manage to pick up on things. Silence for a bit as he worked diligently on getting the bottom hinge apart. The one upside was that since the doors were new, the hinges weren't nearly as stubborn as they could have been and eventually he gave a triumphant shout. "Hah! One down!" He stood up and slipped the pin in his pocket, then set to work on the top hinge.
"That's one, three more to go." His own bolt would only need another couple of whacks to pop out but it wasn't quite there yet. The top one, he hoped, wouldn't be so hard. He'd have a better angle at least. "We get these suckers out and all we'll need to do is just tug the door forward. Ought to slide out nice and easy, then we can worry about those locks."
"You have NO IDEA how tempted I am to just fix this stupid door." There was a sudden burst of furious hammering. "AUGH, how do you put the doors on BACKWARDS, that's just...AUGH!" So infuriating as to leave him speechless, apparently. With the full weight of the door hanging on one hinge, the second pin was considerably more stubborn and Engineer found himself wishing that he had a third hand that could have been used to pull up on the doorknob and hopefully lift a bit of the weight of the door. It's times like these he really regretted not going into cyborg studies. Somewhere out there was probably a Senior engineer with at least one extra robotic limb grafted to his body.
It was a good question and it made him wonder. The base wasn't as put together as it could have been and he bet the upkeep of the place was more a gum fixative and pray kind of operation than actual elbow grease and solid materials. He shrugged and plucked the bolt from the bottom hinge. "Do you really want to know or you wanna just growl? 'Cause, ya know, we could always skip on over to a phone and ring up HQ, find out what contractor they used."
"I was just planning on complaining some more, it doesn't really MATTER..." This top hinge was way more tiring than the bottom one. Engineer did enough work with his hands that his arms, if nothing else, were pretty toned but he was short and holding them above his head like this was getting exhausting. Stupid door. It's bad and it should feel bad. "They probably wouldn't tell us anyway. And Davies will yell at us for complaining."
"Go ahead and take my share of the complainin' too, yeah?" Wes might work with his hands but there wasn't much definition to his arms. He didn't really lift any kind of definitive weight, just the tools he used for mixing his loads and the weapons that fired the end results. His arms were aching because of the way he'd had them locked in position and his wrist was sending a clear message that it hated him. Wes stood up and just relaxed his arms by his sides for a long moment, giving them a hearty shake once or twice, before readjusting his grip on the hex and getting back to work. "Suppose we ought to just keep on growlin' at the door then. I'm sure that's a bit better than getting chewed out."
In the interest of full disclosure about Engineer's physique, it would probably be more accurate to say that his arms were pretty toned /compared to the rest of his body/ which was...probably best described as soft and plushy. Plump, one might say, or possibly chubby. "Well, I'm actually about done complaining, really. There's not much else to say beyond HOW DO YOU SCREW THIS UP? IT'S SO SIMPLE. ...Though it's actually a lot easier to deal with the fact that we don't have the key to the infirmary, so maybe it's not so bad after all," he added thoughtfully, brightening up a bit.
Yes, he was getting nowhere fast with this bolt. Looking to the side, he noticed that his friend wasn't haven't better luck. It struck him, then, that he forgot all about gravity. Wes dropped his arms and stood back, chuckling. "So, here's the thing. In my infinite wisdom, I started at the bottom without taking into consideration what the top might think about that. Apparently it doesn't like being /second best/." He lifted the hammer and used the claw to scratch at his temple, hard enough to get at the itch but soft enough to just leave a trail of irritation rather than blood. "Um, I think one of us has gotta hold the door while the other works the bolts otherwise this is going to take a coon's age to get finished."
"I'm from Baltimore, so I'm not sure how long a coon's age is, but yeah, someone needs to hold the door..." And he was already moving to be the person to do that. Damn, but his arms were tired. Holding up the door was a much better option than continuing on his hinge. "Doing it from the bottom was the right way though - if we'd started with the top, then it woulda been wobbling all over the place while we tried to do the bottom, ya know? I don't really want a door falling on my head..."
Wes winced. "Yeah, might not feel that great." He hadn't thought of that either. Oh for two and no chance to make up the points. He was doing right fine with this thinking bit. Maybe he ought to leave that up to someone that actually used their brain for more than making things go boom and Sunday funnies. As the engie took a steady stance in front of the door, Wes positioned himself at the abandoned hinge and put the hex back into place. The first couple of hits and he could already tell this was going to go a lot faster than either of the bottom bolts had. "Another couple of minutes and we'll be inside."
Another couple of minutes and they /were/ inside and somehow the entire operation didn't result in anyone getting a door dropped on them, though it was a near thing, when it turned out the doors were considerably more heavy when not being held up by any hinges at all. Both of them would be required to move the doors out of the way, but once that was taken care of... "Yep, that's the infirmary all right. I hope it's actually /stocked/ , I will be so pissed if there's nothing in here. My hand hurts." Pathetic little pout. Heavy doors were not fun to carry around when you already had a huge gash in your thumb. He peered into the room and began to feel around on the wall for a light switch of some kind.
"You and me both, partner." Hopefully that wouldn't be the case because going through all that trouble for an empty room was not only a huge waste of both their time but would be the kind of let down that lead to frustration fuel stupidity. If the infirmary was empty, Wes was going to go out on the field and blow something up. He also echoed the sentiment of pain, curling a hand around his wrist. He had to stop rubbing it when the hex start to scrap the underside raw but dumping both it and the hammer back into the engineer's toolbox took care of that easily enough. "I think some explorin' is on the menu, don't you?" He didn't wait for an answer, simply slipping into the dim room to look for a light switch.
"Only if that exploring involves a treasure chest full of tylenol," muttered Engineer. His questing hand finally found a bank of light switches, which he proceeded to switch on all at once. Somewhere in the back of the infirmary, a fan started up. "Oh, I hope I didn't turn on something weird..." He glanced around nervously, apparently half expecting the place to be some stereotypical Medic torture chamber. It actuality is was a rather barren, sterile room with an array of cabinets against one wall.
A bottle of aspirin would be nice to find and was on the top of list of things he'd like to find in this place. Looking around the now lit area, Wes noticed a short line of cabinets hanging above a counter with a depression that looked to be a sink somewhere near the end. There was a larger sink, stainless steel and sturdy looking, a bit further away. He figured that would be the place instruments could be washed or something along those lines. There were a couple of beds set up and a row of curtained dividers standing against the wall. Not much else was in the place, not even tools of the trade. Of course, those things could probably be locked up somewhere or wouldn't be delivered until they got themselves a Medic. It wasn't a big deal, he supposed, since no one would really need to bother with them outside of the guy, or gal, sent to run this place. "I'll see if any of these has a spare bottle. Why don't you get comfy on one of those beds or maybe search that back area?"
"I'm not DYING" protested Engineer, who had already made his way over to the cabinets and begun rummaging through them. "Augh, these are all labeled in GERMAN!" he moaned after a second of investigation. "That...STUPID...BoS! Why does everything have to be in German? It's creepy! That's why people make jokes about them!" He kept looking anyway - some of the labels seemed fairly close to the English equivalent, so maybe a pain killer would be easy to find.
"Not dyin', no. But you already have preexisting injury. I just figured you might like to rest a bit before we see about fixing the doors up." He moved to stand beside the other and leaned over just enough to get an eyeful of the contents. Engie hadn't been yanking his chain; all those labels were written in a funky alphabet that sure as shooting wasn't English. German, Russian, Estonian. Whatever. He couldn't read it and by the look on his friend's face, neither could Engie. Perfect. "Unless you don't mind experimenting with drugs, I say we find something small and white, and take our chances."
Engineer continued his methodical search through the various bottles. "I'm looking for cognates..." he muttered as he worked his way along until... "Oh. Aspirin is just aspirin in German. Apparently." He gave a little snort of amusement and pulled the bottle out to inspect it. It didn't seem to come with dosage directions, so he pulled out his blackberry and dutifully went to look up the proper amount.
"Good to know." Wes wasn't so discerning and plucked the bottle out of Engie's hand, popped the cap and shook out three tablets. He put the bottle on the counter and started to nose around in the other cabinets looking for those little disposable cups usually found in doctor's offices. If nothing else, he could just stick his head under the long faucet curved over the big sink to get a mouthful of water to wash the pills down.
There was a vague sound of protest from the Engineer. "You know that if you use too much it stops being as effective, right?" he mumbled as he continued to poke at his blackberry until he found the correct dosage, including differentiations for weight. He took two tablets and carefully replaced the bottle where he'd found it. "Did you find cups yet?" he asked, following Wes around the room
"Maybe, but all I know is that I feel a lot better with three than I do with two." Which was sort of the truth. He didn't really stop to analyze these kinds of things. Usually he just popped how ever many he figured would help dull the pain be it two or a handful. "No, no cups. A lot more bottles of stuff though. Got those in spades."
"Yeah, but, the dosage - " protested Engineer as he trailed around after him. "The pills aren't always the same amount of medicine." He let out a sigh of annoyance at the lack of cups. "All right, I'm going back to my workshop, I've got a water bottle in there. We can fix the doors later, not like it matters." He was halfway out of the room before he paused and turned back to Wes. "Oh, you didn't happen to see the Intel, did you?"
He'd turned to wave his goodbyes, had his arm already lifted for the gesture, but dropped it at the odd question. What would Intel be doing in a locked infirmary? That just didn't makes sense, so maybe Engie meant in general. Wes scrunched his nose as he thought about everywhere he'd went today. Nope. No out of place briefcases laying about that he could recall. "No, but I haven't exactly been all over the base yet. I think it might actually be in the conference room or something."
Engineer looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "Well, I'm sure it'll turn up. I don't think /anyone/ has been all over yet." He waved at Wes in return and trotted out of room. For a second he paused at the door way, quickly collecting up his tool and chucking them into the toolbox, which he lugged off with him at a slightly slower pace, heading in the direction of his workshop.