Chapter Text
“Son,” Soldier said to you through the boisterous excitement of the celebration at respawn, “I want you to have this.” He took a bottlecap out of his pocket; it was attached to a red piece of fabric with a safety pin on the end. It seemed to be a homemade medal. As he offered it, you noticed that he had cut cloth from his own sleeve to make it, and that there was a little eagle drawn on the inside of the cap.
“Wow… thank you, Soldier, I can’t believe I’m getting a medal already.” The trinket did actually warm your heart. Already you were feeling welcome on the team, despite being on it for such little time and being in the company of professional killers. And also being a professional killer, of course.
“After training Lt. Bites last night, I planned a ceremony for you. Also, I planned it for right now.”
“’Scuse me, General Doe, sir?” Engie said, stepping up to the pair of you. He put his heels together, straightened his back, and saluted Soldier.
Soldier’s face lit up at the title and decorum. “What is it, Colonel Conagher?” He saluted back (even though a superior officer isn’t expected to salute to a subordinate; it just seemed like he was excited to be saluting.)
“I was actually supposed to teach Jack about assemblin’ teleporters and dispensers before the battle tomorrow, could this ceremony be moved to a later date?”
Still saluting, Soldier pondered his request. “Both of those are crucial to our team’s victory… So yes. The ceremony will take place tomorrow.”
“Thank you, General Doe, sir! I’ll be outside respawn, Jackie.” He walked back into the crowd (in which a conga circle had started.)
“Well, Jack, I don’t want you to have to wait until tomorrow for your medal. But you will have to wait to get your promotion.” Soldier pinned the improvised badge to your shirt and saluted you, then you saluted back. You turned around to see that Engie had joined the congaing, but as soon as he saw you he stepped out.
“Sorry for interruptin’ you, but those ceremonies are always at least an hour long.”
“He puts that much planning into them?!”
“Nope, he just gives a directionless speech about America for most of it. He does say some rather nice things about the medal’s recipient somewhere in the mix, but I know you’ve had a long day.”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Thanks for looking out for me,” you laughed as you wiped some sweat from your brow. That sounded impossible to sit through right now, although the sentiment was sweet.
“Any time.” You stood there, waiting for him to walk with you back to his workshop. The silence quickly grew awkward. “Somethin’ wrong?”
“Are- are you gonna show me how the teleporters and dispensers work?”
“Oh! You actually want to know? That was just an excuse.”
“Of course! Did you think I was lying when I said I was curious?”
“Well, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. “Alright, if you want to learn, come on.”
The pair of you started walking back to his workshop, the same walk you took after the second battle. Now that that guilt had been washed away with last match’s victory, a question lingered: why? Why did you freeze in the middle of the battle just to speak with him? It may just have been a few moments, but on the field, that was everything. That was all you needed to lose a match.
“So, Colonel Conagher, huh?” you teased him to clear the air.
“That’s no way to speak to your superior officer, Private Jack,” he laughed.
“I take it Soldier gave everyone here a station?”
“Yeah, but I’m the only one who ever remembers that. Soldier’ll listen to whatever you say if you salute him and call him General. You’re movin’ up the ranks rather fast though, Jackie. Practically a corporal already.” He nudged you with his elbow, smiling broadly. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Well, everybody here thinks you’re great. You’re the talk of the town, and I haven’t heard one bad thing about you. And that’s rare here, the boys gossip like hens.”
“Didn’t take you guys as the gossiping type.”
“I’ve never been— I keep my mouth shut, but you’d have to be deaf not to hear through the grapevine here.”
“Oh come on, you can’t tell me what they’re saying?”
“Well, I was going to, but when you put it like that, I can’t as a matter of principle.”
“That’s strange, I heard you were a real blabbermouth,” you joked, “I’ve heard a lot of things, actually. I heard you don’t have any eyes, and that your helmet is surgically attached to your head.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he chuckled as he adjusted his goggles. “I may or may not’ve heard that you’re just a very convincing BLU Spy.”
“Pyro said you aren’t even from Texas, and that your accent is fake.”
“Pyro might’ve told me that you are from Texas, and your accent is fake.”
“Scout told me you have 2 PhD’s.”
Engie went silent.
“Demo told me you used to be a rodeo clown.”
“Did Scout really say that?” he asked with a suddenly serious tone.
“Uh— no.”
“Right. Thanks. Sorry.”
You walked into the workshop again and he wasted no time hauling a big, dusty machine out from under a pile of tools. There were gadgets and gauges that glowed all kinds of colors and began whirring to life as he flipped on various switches, tuned sliders, and pressed buttons as easily as one might write one’s name. “This here’s a little demonstration of the concept the teleporters were built on. Take a look at the window up top and I’ll turn it on.”
You stood on your tip toes to get a good view of the glass panel on the machine. Under it there appeared to be a plethora of wires, blinking lights, and 2a metallic Newton’s cradle with a dozen lasers trained on it. “What am I looking at? The desk toy?”
Without another word, he hit a series of buttons, and one of the spheres on the Newton’s cradle was pulled back by a fishing line, which was then cut by the scissors. The sphere swung forward— and right through its neighbor. It swung back and forth, passing through the other like a ghost, not disturbing it in the slightest. You were speechless—amazed, and your words did not return to you as you looked up at the scientist. He also seemed to be stumbling for something to say, his grin wide as yours as you looked at each other. A few times you moved your mouth to voice an observation or question, but were then overwhelmed by the impossibility of the thing in front of you. It seemed that he was stuck in the same way.
“It’s a localized wormhole,” Engie explained, breaking the silence, “This is a very small example, with an entry point on the side of the second orb and an exit point just on the top, but the idea’s the same. It takes a lot of power, but it establishes a connection between the teleporter entry and exit.”
“How did you ever come up with this?”
“It’s amazin’ what unlimited funding and four years with nothin’ else to do can help you accomplish.”
“Still— how? How can you build these in such a small container just… ready to go?”
“I spent too much time at Bee Cave IC Tech to lug this big heap of scrap around. Ms. Pauling got some chemists to figure out how to mass produce Americium, the radioactive element that fuels them, so I don’t need this here whole machine.”
“How far away can you make the exit point?” You asked suddenly, almost jumping. It occurred to you that this wormhole technology might even open doors to other galaxies.
“Just about anywhere I can put a teleporter. Why?”
“Never mind,” you said, realizing that he must have already considered and dismissed the idea.
“Nah, why do you ask?”
“It’s just a dumb idea that wouldn’t work.”
“You don’t know that. C’mon, tell me.”
“I was just wondering if you could set an exit point in space somehow, so you could see other galaxies or planets or something…”
“I can’t believe you thought that was dumb. I haven't thought about it much, but I’m pretty sure I can’t put a wormhole somewhere without the machine being there.”
“Huh. So what’s stopping you from putting a teleporter in space?”
You had asked this casually, expecting to learn more about the designs of the things. But Engie ran over to a messy chalkboard across the room and started scribbling on it and murmuring to himself. Not knowing what to say, you approached the board and looked over his shoulder at his calculations. After many hurried scrawls he threw his arms into the air in elation, sending his chalk flying. “Jackie, you’re a genius!” he exclaimed, whirling around and scooping you up in a bear hug, lifting you off the ground.
“A- am I?” His strong arms were tight around your torso, his cheek pressed firmly against your stomach as he spun around. The embrace barely gave you room to breathe.
“Nothin’s stoppin’ me from shooting a teleporter into space!” You leaned back to see his face, his smile broad and overjoyed, his hardhat askew, and his handsome eyes, which you could faintly see from this angle, were brimming with admiration. You suddenly found yourself breathless in more ways than one.
Engie set you down again. “Sorry about that, don’t know what came over me. Well, I do— because you just changed everythin’ about space travel— but I shouldn’t’ve done that.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” You wanted to add that you wouldn’t mind if he did that again, but opted to keep your mouth shut.
“Once I figure out a space-friendly design for the teleporter, well, who knows what can happen. Say, would you… mind givin’ me a hand with this?”
“I don’t know the first thing about engineering, though. Well, as far as I’m aware.”
“I’ve been workin’ with these things for four years, and you saw right away what had been under my nose the whole time. I don’t want you to sign up for something you don’t want to do, of course, but if you think you wouldn’t be much help then you’re dead wrong.”
You still didn’t see how you could be very helpful, but hell, you wanted to see space. Not to mention, there might be more of those hugs down the road. “When do I start, Colonel Conagher?” you asked with an exaggerated salute.
“How about after lunch, space cadet?”