Lakeside was a peculiar location, to say the least. It had originally been constructed as a casino resort with an Egyptian theme. Its previous owner had abandoned the site when Las Vegas became the de facto hot bed for the gambling industry. The site was abandoned for over a decade when it was sold to Redmond and Blutarch Mann, who proceeded to fight over which one would manage the water park towards the center of the plot. Driving from the dead center of New Mexico to Nevada was not a pleasant trip, especially for the remaining survivors. None were willing to take the easy way back, though. At the very least, the Medic's van could be an information goldmine for the other time, mostly due to its new adjustments. It was just as well they accompanied and protected each other, just in case of a surprise attack.

Night fell before they had to stop. The needle on the Medic's gas gauge had all but gone flat. He brought the van into a town populated more by ghosts than men. As he stopped in front of the only store with lights, his van coughed and grew still. He was lucky enough to find a petrol pump. Unfortunately, there were no gas jockeys to be found. The three men in the back of his vehicle were of no help, either. All three were fast asleep, tucked up against each other to keep warm. The Medic clicked his tongue, but didn't scold them.

After grabbing his checkbook, the Medic stepped out of the van. It didn't take him long to start fueling up his vehicle. The pump rattled worse than his empty van, but he managed to squeeze the last of its fuel out. He watched his sleeping teammates, the gears in his head kicking on. They could use water, no doubt. Perhaps food. He needed caffeine, especially if he was going to keep awake. He tried to avoid the substance as much as possible, but tonight was an exception. Someone had to keep alert and drive his van. As much as he trusted his teammates, he wanted to keep at the wheel tonight.

The pump finally clicked off. Setting the nozzle into its container, the Medic headed into the general store. It was a strange, hodge-podge shop. There were a few isles for groceries, a cooler for soda. The wooden floors looked to be a century old. Everything was coated in a generous layer of dust. The air reeked of tobacco smoke. Men sat towards the back of the shop, playing card games and cursing each other's luck. They gave one dirty glance at the Medic, then continued their party.

A young man of Chinese descent was sitting at the register. He was bored, his eyes following the Medic around the small shop. Both men were amused with the other. It wasn't every day that a blood-splattered German entered the man's shop. The Medic smirked, observing the boy's poor posture. Perhaps he could get away with that now, but when he was older, he would not be so fortunate.

"You got gas out of the pumps out front?" the young man asked. "You are lucky. They are getting pulled out tomorrow. They leak."

The Medic smirked. "Lucky? Hmmph. Perhaps. Do you have any vater?"

The young cashier pulled a face. "To sell? Who would buy that?"

"If zhere is some vay I could get vater, zhat vould be appreciated. Zhese sodas, zhey are not so good at rehydration," the Medic explained. "I could also use a cup of coffee, if zhere is any here."

The young man pointed towards a row of empty red tanks on one of the shelves. "Mister, you buy that, and I'll fill it up. Coffee will be fifty cents."

The Medic fetched the container for the cashier, as well as a few disposable cups. As he set to his work, the German also picked up a few chocolate bars. Even a good doctor had his weaknesses. Besides, his teammates could probably use the calories after the day they had been through. The young man was quick on his feet. He had the Medic's purchases totaled up in no time, and the German in turn paid him swiftly. The eyes from the back of the store were starting to wear him thin.

"What did you do to your van?" the young man asked.

The Medic cringed. While the weapons had been folded into the van and unloaded, the front of the Kombi was coated with a thick layer of dust and gore. The missing windows and ripped top did him no favors, either. He thought he looked rough enough. His van seemed like something assembled in Hell's factory line.

The Medic was short with his reply. "Nozhing."

The young cashier shrugged. "Let me know if you ever want to sell it. I'll give you four hundred for it, easily."

"Zhank you," the Medic replied. His response was non-committal, bewildered. He didn't plan on stopping by this town again anytime soon. The day he'd part with his van was much further into the future than that.

The Medic parted ways with the young cashier and the little town, not knowing or caring further about where he had stopped. It was another dying location, after all. Just a blip in the middle of nowhere, in a mostly-empty desert. Most folks didn't have a reason to pass through it.

It would be surprising if the town lasted another twenty years.

It was deep into the rich, dark night before the Engineer woke up. The desert sky was peering through the Medic's Kombi. Indigo and white patterns streamed in through the holes. He found that he'd moved in his sleep, shifting away from the dispenser and next to the Heavy. The mighty Russian had his arms thrown around both the Texan and the Australian, snoring softly as he continued sleeping. He looked behind him for a moment, watching the Medic's stern, tired face take on a small smile. How that German could keep on trucking, he didn't know. He turned his head to the side, then smirked as blue eyes watched him over the Heavy's stomach. Had Stretch just woken up, too?

They didn't say anything. They didn't need to. The Sniper licked his thumb, then reached over and scrubbed the Engineer's forehead. Not that it helped scrape any of the gunk off him. He still smiled, then reciprocated the action. They'd need a good shower when they got to Lakeside. A long one. A hot one.

"If you two are done cleaning each ozher, zhere is vater for you in zhe red tank," the Medic said.

"Thanks, Doc. Where did you get that?" the Engineer asked.

The Medic replied, "Stopped in a little town. Got gas. Might as vell vake zhe Heavy up, too. Ve are just about to Lakeside."

"Crikey, Doc. Ya could have let us help drive." The Sniper looked towards the Medic, observing the dark lines in the German's face. "Ya look moighty tired yourself."

The Medic smirked. "I vill sleep tomorrow, I zhink. Our employers vill need to figure out vhere to send us next. Zhis little incident screwed up our schedule, you know."

"Doctor is stubborn man." The Heavy startled both the Engineer and the Sniper, speaking without opening his eyes. It didn't take much to wake him, apparently.

They spent the last leg of their trip sharing the supplies the Medic had purchased. After going most of the day without water, the liquid was as refreshing and cool as a mountain spring. It tasted a little sweet as well. That was probably their dehydration. Either that, or the chocolate. Its taste was intense as well, almost overwhelming.

A bright yellow building welcomed the four men to Lakeside. What surprised them more was the small gathering outside the main barracks. Five men were sitting around, sharing drinks and napping under ratty blankets. The Kombi's light flashed across their faces, giving dead men new life. Each one's mouth cracked into a smile. As soon as the Medic stopped his van, they were swarmed by their teammates.

The Soldier was the first to tear into the vehicle, then greet each of his friends. "You sons of bitches! You did it!"

"Nice to see you, too," the Engineer said. He wobbled upright, then undid the harness keeping him in the van. "Why didn't any of ya radio us? Could have saved us a lot of worryin'."

"Dude, wasn't me. I went to go find it, right?" The Scout made a low whistle, his hand descending towards the ground. "Smashed into a billion pieces."

The Demoman scrunched up his face. "Must be the mummy ghosts, out wanderin' in the night, wreckin' our stuff."

"If I've told you once, Tavish, I've told you a million times!" The Soldier jumped off on a tangent. "There is no such thing as a mummy ghost! It's impossible. You are either a mummy, or you are a ghost. You cannot be both!"

The Pyro poked around the van, fascinated with the improvements. "Diff if pruddy fuffin fweed."

The Engineer smirked. "Thought I did a good job, myself."

"Anyone call Miss Pauling?" the Heavy asked.

The Spy shook his head. "She called us, saying zhat you were coming back and to watch out for zhose ozher ruffians. All was fine, however." A yawn escaped him before he could put it aside. "Pardon me. I do not sleep well in zhe out of doors."

The Sniper sighed, then gave the Frenchmen a light, sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Just can't get a good noight's rest without a mattress?"

"Pardon me. I forget you like sleeping in zhe wild like a dog," the Spy shook his head.

The Medic brought his team together, pushing them towards the front door. "Now, now, zhen. Ve should all get some rest, ja? Ve vill have much explaining to do in zhe morning."

The Scout was quick to agree. "I've gotta get my beauty sleep. Ya know, for when Miss Pauling shows up."

Everyone nodded, concurring on that point. They usually had to keep clean for when the Administrator came calling, but they put more effort into being polite and well-dressed around Miss Pauling. It wasn't like she didn't know they were a bunch of mercenaries. Still, they wanted her approval, more so than the Administrator's. She was a central motivator.

Most of the group trudged up the stairs, heading off for their beds. The Heavy and the Medic were quick to hit the showers upstairs. The Engineer had the same energy, but paused for a moment. The Sniper was behind him, but not so enthusiastic. He was thinking hard, the lines under his eyes deeper than usual. A strange pang of guilt struck the Engineer. They'd had a net win for the day, sure, but the Sniper was going to be homeless until they could dig out his van. He had a few weapons on each base, as well as a few different uniforms. Heck, the guy could sleep anywhere. Still, he was forced out of his shell.

The Engineer walked back to the Sniper, drawing the Australian's attention. "Ya know, ya should get yourself cleaned up. I don't have much in the way of shampoo, but I've got some soap, if ya need it."

"Probably have to take you up on it," the Sniper replied. A slow smile crept onto his face. "Think I've got a spare uniform in the storage 'round here. Should get that first. And—well, suppose I'll sleep in the infirmary tonight. Maybe the rec room."

That contagious smile passed to the Engineer. "Somehow, I don't think ya'll have to worry about that."

It was well into the morning before the Administrator received another call. By that point, she had most of the rollers out of her hair and her makeup more or less done. In all honesty, she thought it was a little early. The team that had been left to take care of her little monsters wasn't the more brutal of the two that she managed. They were a little soft, a little slow. The team had the greater potential of the two when it came to strategy and cooperation, but easily manipulated by what made it strong.

Still, she was surprised to hear Miss Pauling on the other end of the line. "Good morning, Helen. I've got great news!"

The Administrator hid her surprise. "So, they're already done."

"Y-yes." She'd taken the wind out of her assistant's sails. "Well, I thought you would want to know."

"I suppose you haven't been able to see the damages yet?" the Administrator asked.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "No. I'll be visiting the Lakeside team today. We'll make the trip tomorrow."

"That is fine. I will contact the Coldfront team and make sure they are keeping in line, then." A dark tone slithered into the Administrator's voice. "I would hate to think that they are scheming away unchecked. Who knows what they might do if they get to their base in the Badlands first?"

The threat did not go unnoticed. "I'll see if I can motivate the Lakeside team into moving a little sooner. No promises."

"They have done well enough for now. I suppose. Have a nice day, Miss Pauling." Without waiting for a response from her assistant, the Administrator placed the receiver on the cradle once more.

A strange spark went off in the back of the Administrator's brain. It was hard to say what it was. The emotion was foreign to her, a rare visitor. Some sort of pity? A feeling of loss? Well, that was to be expected. Despite what had happened, she regretted having to put her pets down. Perhaps they had been too much for her to monitor. She returned to her vanity, mulling over that thought. Yes, that seemed right. Maybe next time, she'd go with something smaller. Poodles, perhaps.

Another epiphany came to her as the phone rang for the third time in two days. Pets were good for the common person. They gave people a sense of power, responsibility. Love, too, if they were into that sort of thing. If there was one thing the Administrator didn't need, it was a pet. Perhaps she had enough as it was. She had at least eighteen mercenaries of various types, a young woman, two old codgers that were only kept alive so she could maintain her power. If her intuition was right, she had one more waiting for her on the phone at that very moment. Pets were for the common man with no control over anyone else.

The Administrator picked up the phone, cooing to one member of her menagerie. "Good morning, Saxton."

Author's Note

Probably not the strongest ending I've written, but this isn't the best story I've written, either. I just wanted this monkey off my back. This poor struggler's been hanging on since last December. I had little motivation to finish it, but by God, I did. I guess that shows some sign of improvement.

Sorry about the ship teasing. Had to be done. Maybe not, but I enjoyed it.

Might take a little break from writing longer stories for a while. Might do some one-shots. It seems like I lose my readers and my motivation when I do longer stories. Not feeling my strongest lately, as far as creativity goes. Maybe I need to let the wishing well refill. Helps to have other strong stories and groups to be with, too. Feeling isolated, lately. But that's my deal.

Sorry to have drug you along so long. Hopefully, this was satisfying enough.