A/N: Yes, this is an homage to a concept Michael Crichton wrote about. With extra stuffing on top. Yum. Dedicated to a friend who currently has a blue cloud hanging over her head.

-Tues. Sep. 4, 1973-

Under dim lights, a generous layer of blueprints were spread atop the desk, their plans indecipherable to everyone but the man who mapped them out. A gloved hand swept across the workspace sent them floating to the floor. Truth be told, they were utter nonsense and he knew it. This assignment was impossible, or at least Engineer thought it was. The supply train hauling scraps and a month's worth of food for everyone wasn't going to arrive on time. He didn't have much choice but to recycle his teleporters for this thing to work. Its latest incarnation projected hazy holographic images which fizzled out in the same minute.

Now, Engie was holed up in his quarters revising the most recent plan. He spent another hour tinkering with the Frankenstein of a machine, enhancing what was desired. It was an unusual request with a tight deadline, and it didn't help that he wasn't exactly sure what the machine's purpose was.

A creak in the door yanked his gaze away from his precious work to be greeted with an apprehensive, if not impatient face poking inside.

"Yo, hardhat. When're you coming ta dinner?" It was Scout, one of the few people who called him by that moniker.

Engineer saw the unusual lack of bravado in the speed demon as a bad sign, or he was getting really good with the 'puppy eyes' charade.

"Like, seriously man. It's just strange without ya. Solly's about to wring Spy's neck in there for insultin' the 'very essence of America' or some shit like that."

"Alright," Engineer's voice was soft, "be there in a jiffy. One more tap of the wrench and I'll call it a night," In spite of his words, he turned back to tinkering with the machine at a frenzied pace. Tightening screws, oiling creaky joints and checking the flux capacitor which allowed the wonder of teleporting to be a reality. The possibilities didn't end just there, but there was no room for daydreaming about it right now. Engineer looked over his shoulder to find Scout standing behind him, pouting like a little kid. Was the conflict that heated?

Heavy was in the base's kitchen and there's no doubt the bear of a man was capable of restraining the hot blooded jingo. He craned his head towards the clock on the wall, looking at it pensively for a moment. 9:45 at night was a bit late for having dinner, but not entirely news to him. Everyone ribbed each other between bites every day. Sometimes, Engineer felt like he was babysitting a gaggle of children.

Scout was looming over the shorter man's shoulder, eyeballing the work as if it were a squashed beetle. "I mean, what're ya even buildin'? Looks like it came outta Merasmus' freakin' stomach!"

Engineer would've stayed in the workshop, ignoring the lanky youth and everyone else, if only his gut didn't gurgle in protest. Or, he could be an honest gentleman and say he wouldn't (and couldn't) spill the beans. Everyone in the fortress knew Scout couldn't keep a secret any longer than he can keep his jaws from flapping.

"Look boy," Engineer began, "I'll come to the kitchen when I'm done with this prototype. I'd prefer to be alone right now, and if you-"

"Aw cheese, man!" Scout cut him off, "You've been sayin' that all night! Like, what is your deal? You been actin' like some chipmunk dodgin' sniper fire or what, like you're hidin' something. C'mon, serious, you can tell me," He tried to sound sympathetic, but his wide grin left Engineer incredulous.

The Texan laid his wrench on the table, hopping off his chair and conceded to leaving the workbench for a while. That was the only thing he'd do willingly. He knew that keeping this up would harbour some unsavoury rumours, but the machine...

Engineer felt a heavy knot form in his gut upon admitting to himself it'll have to wait. Dabbing the beads of sweat on his head with a rag, he let out a restrained sigh. If the others were so insistent on him having a meal, why didn't they just bring the grub over to him? They were pretty darn vicious earlier today with their saccharine glee for sending BLU gibs flying everywhere and could barely cooperate on a more personal level in and outside of battle. Then again, everyone's in the gig mostly for money. He had to admit that it was much the same for him, but for a far more noble cause.

Scout shut the door and followed behind Engineer just a few paces in an almost obedient manner, then the knot in the latter's gut dropped what felt like fifty feet. He couldn't think, the walls felt tight and his mind sped around like a horde of hornets.

They knew. Those two words formed clear and concise amid the buzzing in his head.

Heads turned to face the door, where the sound of footfalls grew louder. Enter Engineer, looking as solemn as a man who attended his own funeral. He pulled out a chair for himself and sat at the table's corner. There was a plate in front of him full of mystery meat, mashed potatoes and peas.

As expected, some of the mercs bore through Engineer with unfaltering stares. Well, it was difficult to tell with Pyro's mask obscuring his face, but its likeness to an unblinking bug's head unnerved him more. Granted, he, or rather xe, never ate in the same room as everyone else. Following that, xir plate was empty and everyone else was halfway through the slop. Well, except Spy, who looked at the stuff as though it were bovine excrement. Medic held a half lidded gaze with his fingers steepled, as if thinking deeply about something. Scout had already taken his seat beside Demo, wolfing down the remains like he'd starve tomorrow- much to Spy's visible distaste.

Then the thin youth talked without swallowing his food, "Ish anyon gunna brig th nrws or whurt?"

"Oh, please labourer, it wouldn't kill you to chew wiz your mouth closed so you wouldn't spatter zat filth everywhere," Spy made no effort concealing his snarl.

"F yer not gunna eat that, Iw trrk it."

Spy pushed his plate over to Scout and rested his elbow on the table, burying half his face in one hand.

"Bet you twenty moolah Spoi wouldn't last a day in th' outback," Sniper whispered to Heavy, who gave a small smile and a light nod.

"Fellas," Engineer piped up, "could we jes' git this elephant out of the room? Y'all ain't actin' like yourselves one bit! I got Scout bustin' inta my space to say Soldier's about to wring somebody's neck, and y'all are sittin' here quietly like you're waitin' for somethin' to happen!"

"You bet your ASS it almost happened, private! And I would've gotten away with it if it weren't for that meddling commie!"

"'Not acting like ourselves' you say?" Medic reflected coolly, "Zhat's humourous coming from our local recluse. I've noticed you were more reluctant to set up your gear further avay from zhe entrance. Ve all did. It vent on for veeks and may have been responsible for a few losses. And zhat's not all, ve haven't not taken notice of your teleporters' disappearence from zhe field."

"He's stitched them together and now they look like some freakin' Eldritch abomination from H.P. Dumbcraft or whatever the hell his name is," Scout announced after swallowing a gob-full of Spy's dinner.

"Well, 's not like I had the materials to build it, and I figured sparin' the sentry was a better idea on the account of you guys bein' able to mosey over to BLU's fortress well on yer own and the adage of a good defense bein' a great offense. Besides, the technology that goes in a teleporter is different from any old sentry in one way," He wasn't sure how he could explain what a flux capacitor was without resoting to layman's terms, but on one hand he had half the team leaning in to listen. He felt like a fist was balled up in his throat at the very prospect of telling even half the truth of the matter.

"I needed to... um... err," he knew what to say, but not how to make it palatable so not to worry anyone, "I wanted to revolutionize the way we travel and make enough dough to retire-"

"Tiny man is leaving?" Heavy looked shaken. Everyone exchanged glances except Spy, who didn't flinch a bit.

"No! I mean, well, sort of! I'm just tired of fightin' is all," And it didn't seem too much of a stretch given he was perhaps the most humble of the team.

"He's saying he's a half hippie and all yellow bellied Canadian!" Soldier barked, "But there is no such thing as a halfer. A dirty hippie's a filthy hippie and I'll have you know-" Demo cut him off with an elbow to the American's ribs. He could see Soldier's eyes flash for a moment shooting daggers from them.

"You're serious, man?" Scout squeaked.

"Listen, I'm not keen on leavin' you fellas either. I couldn't keep half the cash if I went, the thing is..." Engineer's drawl trailed off as he found his hand pulling an envelope from his pocket and sliding it towards the table's centre. Spy picked it up deftly, scrutinizing the messy lettering on it while removing the contents. Sniper and Demo both tried to make out the word, or words, on the envelope but their efforts were fruitless.

"Some bloody wanker prob'ly wrote this with a broken hand or that's a language barrier we're gawking at."

"Aye, or th' laddie's drunk offa his arse," Demo chuckled mirthlessly, passing the unintelligible writing to Scout.

"Dunno what this crap is, it looks like he was taking notes from 'Mumbles' over there. And lookit this, no return address, no stamps, no nothin'!"

"Mmmph!" Pyro crossed xir arms as a display of contempt. "Mrrmhrmph hnna nrr hmph!"

"It's gotta be a joke from those maggot munching BLUs, trying to mind control our asses and transform us into Mary Jane lovin' PINKOS!" Soldier slammed his fist on the table. "And I will not tolerate any of that! No self respecting American does unless they've scrapped their values!"

"It does not appear to be from ze BLUs at all," Spy chewed his cigarette, "it would seem highly unlikely zey'd ask for legal tender. Zey earn approximately ze same amount as any of us."

"Da, they look lots like us too. Is creepy."

Engineer poked at his dinner while watching the others lose their composure. The meat tasted like poultry, but a little on the sweet side. Now, he was just waiting for the moment everyone figures out the bigger issue at hand. If he was honest, his appetite had been compromised. Only kept going out of necessity and to keep the rest from worrying more than they ought to be.

"Zis anonymous sender wants more than zat, and zey included Engineer's home address. Are you all understanding zis, mes amis?"

"Tha's blackmail," Demo took a nervous swig of his scrumpy, "the slimiest method ta get anythin' ya want. An' if yer slippery enough, you can git away without the consequences."

"Hey hey hey hey! Lemme see that!" Scout nabbed the paper from Spy's hands, "This guy wants a freakin' machine that projects images or somethin' before November, or else they get their hands on Hardhat's family," Scout cringed like he'd tasted something sour.

"You don't suppose it's vone of zhose conspiracy theorists who cling to zhe idea zhat ve are responsible for Teufort's education system dipping into zhe muck? Considered zhat people vanted us hung about a year ago, it's not so 'out zhere' as a possibility." Medic thought out loud.

"If they are angry with us, why not just get directly to the point?"

"Because it's more fun, ze intended target suffers from grief and worse zan a mercy kill clean through ze skull. Surely a young- what's the word? -'whippersnapper' in zis business would've figured zat out by now," Spy took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke.

"Nobody knows a coward better than a coward, hyeh," Soldier received another blow to his side as Spy tried not to show his exasperation brought on by the mocking of both his profession and heritage.

"I don't suppose ya could trace where this back to where the bludger sent it from, spook?"

Engineer had attempted earlier calling HQ for investigative services, to which the Administrator herself thought was a joke given his job. The call was ultimately a waste of his time. He almost recanted that thought about the mercs being like rowdy children in favour for one of a close, yet dysfunctional family. They were no Sherlock Holmes, smart guys like himself and Medic were intelligent, but in different fields of study. Spy was the closest thing to what the team had as a detective, but his methods were often underhanded. Fair enough, it would level the arena a little. Adding the seething brawns of everyone else should have the crook's goose cooked. Then again, the crook may be anticipating this, hence the blatant attempt to cover his tracks.

"I'll see what I can do. Ze fact zis scoundrel found us is worrisome enough. He's after our patent too, after all. Who knows what he intends to do wiz it when he gets his hands on it?"

"Uhm," Scout began, "yo Engie, why'd ya agree ta this? You're screwin' yourself either way."

"Zat is how manipulation works. Confine ze target in a dilemma restricting blatant deviations and strangle compromised deals. Zey want a strict 'win-lose' conclusion and won't let guilt hinder zem," Spy threw a glare at the young man for emphasis, "and zey don't always keep to zeir words."

"That's a very poetic way of puttin' it, Spah, but I started workin' on this thing around the same time as the letter came in. Had a different means for it in mind and then, BAM. Honest to God, I had this idea for months afore. Kept them blueprints locked up nice n' tight in the filing cabinet, too," He trailed off again and froze upon remembering something.

"Thrr mmmn uhm unn thrr brdding!" Pyro grabbed xir mask facsimile of Edvard Munch's 'The Scream', letting loose more muffled groans.

"Scout," Engineer's voice was hushed, "didja close my workshop's door?" To that, he gave a stiff nod.

"It wasn't locked." He recoiled once he knew what the Texan was aiming for.