Wow, I am nervous. This is my first Fan fiction I write. Not done yet, but I think I should post first part and see what people think. Please construction criticism. Written by A Bad Demoman Translation help from Anonymous Edited by Hybrid --------------- Amnesia Canyon is possibly one of the most bizarre cases of mass amnesia. On November 16th, 1968, at 1:30 am, a distress signal was sent via radio from a remote location in the New Mexico badlands. When authorities arrived hours later, all that remained was a deep canyon 1,200 feet below sea level, debris of whatever building had been there and ten survivors amongst the rubble. There were no sign of any other bodies. The survivors were all armed with various weapons and each had unique blue clothing with an emblem on the sleeve. When questioned about the incident, none of them could remember anything. They did not remember where they were or what they were doing there, and could not even remember their own names or families, and only knew themselves by titles of unknown origin. All except one, a man only known as "Janitor", could tell anything about the place; unfortunately, given his mental state and the absurdity of his tale, we can only conclude that Janitor had also been affected by whatever had given the others amnesia, and his report was merely just a story fabricated by his insanity to repress or fill in what memory he lost. According to Janitor, the canyon was once a battlefield where two teams of mercenaries hired by two face companies known as RED and BLU to try and take over the others half of the land. Along with this, he claims that there were only nine mercenaries on each team, but the moment one died, a clone or respawn would pop back up and continue fighting. How much is true, if any at all, is still questionable, though most of his claim has been marked up to his insanity. This interview with Janitor was recorded on March 6th, 1982. We are still researching and analyzing his mental condition. "It was a crazy time during the 60's; the Vietnam War, the Moon landing, John F. Kennedy's assassination, and hippies probably come to your mind when you hear about the era. That's what everyone remembered the 60's for. I, on the other hand, don't recognize any of these as the highlight of the decade. I was part of something much more remembered, and sadly, something that no one will believe, that's why I'm locked up here." “I've heard stories about what you went through, how long had you worked for this company?†“About ten years... at least since '56... I don't really remember much of my life before being hired.... all I know is that I came from Cuba and spoke little English.†“You were a mercenary?†“Well, I never went into combat; I was just the janitor, of sorts. I was paid to resupply the lockers, drop first aid and ammo packets on designated spots, and clean up any suspicious evidence... you know, blood, bullet shells, bodies, (or whatever was left of them) I also was paid to dispose of any unfortunate civilians that came snooping around... they hired me because I was apparently good at hiding evidence... I shudder to think what I did before being employed.†“You were in the desert, far from any roads.†“We traveled from place to place. Sometimes we would be at a farm, sometimes a gravel pit, or a sawmill... it depended on where the company wanted them to fight. So sometimes we would occasionally be near civilization. The incident just "coincidentally" took place in the middle of nowhere...†“Did you ever have to kill any civilians?†*pause* â€... No....†*another pause* “I apologize if that question made you uncomfortable, please, go on.†“I was normally just a spectator, I only watched and waited for someone to die, then would run out into the battlefield, take the body, and run right out, no one saw me. I didn't really know why the company hired me to clean up during missions, I assumed that they just didn't want dead bodies left there where the guys could trip on them or so they wouldn't fake their deaths, saved for one asshole that kept remaking replicas of himself to fool his opponents. I was paid even more to keep quiet about it. I had no clue how they managed to pay just me, let alone where they got the cash to pay eighteen mercenaries, another janitor and all the technology to respawn the same people over and over again. Thinking back on it, I probably didn't want to know.†“Did you ever think of reporting any of it at any point?†“Of course not; they would have thought I was crazy! If they did believe me, I would have been put on trial, deported, or executed. I just would have been put in the funny farm sooner rather than later. I'm betting that you're just here to humor me; you don't believe a word of this, do you?†“My job is to hear your side of the story, sir, not judge it.†*something incoherent* *static* “You stated there was another janitor, what about him?†“No idea; he kept to his side of the field, just as I kept to my side. When it was control points, then the winner had to clean the whole place up; their territory, their mess... I liked it when our team lost on those days. Janitors skipped payload days. I never really saw him but once, just a brief glance of him dragging off a decapitated heavy right after the end of the mission... I couldn't really tell, but he looked an awful lot like me.†“And the "mercenaries"? What was your relation with them on the job?†“There was none, I doubt they even knew I existed until the incident. Maybe the engineer, who would occasionally stay over at night to work on some of his machinery. He was surprisingly friendly; he would normally wave to me when he entered the room I was working in, but nothing more.... I was still terrified of him.†“Why would you be scared of an engineer?†“The man built weapons of mass murder and clobbered people to death with a wrench... there was plenty to be scared of.†“That doesn't sound friendly at all.†“Compared to the others, he was a saint.†“Tell me about the others.†“There was a Russian man they called "Heavy", big guy, dealt with a minigun; he was crazy, he talked to his food and treated his gun like his baby, calling it "Sasha", kissing it, cradling it; I think he was schizophrenic. He would always hang around the team's Medic, even after hours... I think they might have had a thing for each other. "There was a young American man called Scout, he was a little guy, but he could tear you a new asshole as big as the one as he was. He constantly acted like he was the best person out there... always telling the others what they were doing wrong and berating his own teammates. Ironically, I cleaned up more of him and his counterpart than the other classes. "Another American... who was bat-shit insane with a rocket launcher and needed to be institutionalized called Soldier. He would scream randomly, beat himself over the head with his shovel, shoot rockets at his feet just so he could jump higher, and sometimes he would pull out a grenade and blow himself to bits just for the hell of it! What kind of idiot of an employer would hire that guy and give him access to weapons made me question the sanity of the company... "A black Scottish guy with an eye-patch called Demoman, dealt with explosives. He was constantly hammered with alcohol on the job, he'd even drink in the midst of battle. It was a wonder how he even stood up straight, let alone handle bombs without exploding on himself. "There was a sadistic German doctor. He never came out and said he was a Nazi, but the way he acted made me think he was... I could just be stereotyping though. In my opinion, he was the second scariest, especially since he and Heavy tended to hang around each other like he was his body guard. "There was a guy who kept his own piss in jars and carried them around and threw them at people, the Sniper... strange guy, kept to himself. Oddly enough, he claimed to be Australian. Most Australians I've seen are depicted as muscular and hairy, but this guy was scrawny and shaved regularly. "Then there was a French douche bag known as Spy; he liked everyone to think he was a calm, cool, collected guy... but he had the insults of an eight year old and even liked getting on his own teammate's nerves.... he was also the asshole that kept leaving fake bodies of himself that I would have to clean up. "Then there was Pyro... he had to be the scariest fucker out of all of them, if it was a he... might have been a woman, or maybe just a really affeminate man. He set people on fire... and laughed merrily as his enemies screamed in terror. Sometimes he would just turn around and let his flamethrower loose when no one was there like he thought someone was following him. burned me to death once when I was dropping off a med kit because he heard my footsteps, I kept as far of a distance as I could from both pyros.†“I can see why you wouldn't want to socialize with any of them. What about the other team?†“From what I cleaned up, the only difference between them were the colors of their clothing... they acted the same, same weapons, same style of uniform, same faces... they even repeated the same one-liners.†“I don't mean to bother you with all these questions, but I can't help but ask, what happened that night?†-to be continued-
Oh this is great. But why can´t i unsee the Janitor from Scrubs telling this Story? “Compared to the others, he was a saint.†Sankt Engie. Patron of all machines and science lovers. I need to make a spray of it. Anyway, this is a great idea about a ten man there.
I keep imagining Scruffy from Futurama.
Clever idea, please continue :)
I apologize that this one took so long; for I had much work to be done during week. This is continuation of chapter; please give constructive criticsm. Written by: A Bad Demoman Translation help: Night Hound Edited and accents: Hybrid --------------------------- It was after a week-long battle and the BLU team had finally taken control over all of the points in the Badlands... much to my dismay, this meant I would have to clean up everything from blood spills to bullet shells. As large of an area as the place was, I estimated it would take me five days. I cringed, thinking of all the mud and blood I would have to mop up, and how no amount of bleach would clean the stains off the snow-white tiles of the walls and floor. It was near the end of November, and everyone was eager to get home, probably for Thanksgiving... lucky them. I was stuck at the canyon cleaning up the carnage they had made and the mud they tracked inside; the closest thing I would get to carving a turkey was cutting body parts off to make them fit into the disposal. I saw the RED train chug its way into the station from a distance as the sun began to set in the Badlands, when I heard someone scream. I sighed; someone got hit by the train again; the railroads were dirty enough, they didn't need blood splattered all over them. I continued sweeping up the charred remains of a burnt spy; I would clean up the train casualty later. As much as I wanted to clean up the fresh blood before any stains set in, I knew another train would pull in later, so there was no sense to clean up something when another mess might replace it when the BLU train got there. I found it odd, however, that the RED train came in first, seeing as the BLU team won, at least, odd by my job's standards. I didn't really think much of it until hours later, when the train had still not arrived. I felt that maybe I should go there to check it out; the scream earlier might have been something other than someone getting hit by a train. I was hesitant about it first; if the train had yet to arrive, then that meant that those mercenaries were still there waiting, probably frustrated and itching to take it out on someone, someone who wouldn't be able to fight back. Screw that, I thought, I wasn't going to be a punching bag for a bunch of unwashed, mentally insane men with lethal weapons. I ultimately decided to continue cleaning up the evidence out in the battlefield. Being the end of daylight savings time, the sky got dark early. There was no moon out, and in the middle of nowhere with no streetlights, it made it hard to see. Luckily it was break time for me. I picked up my bucket, broom, and metal detector, placed them in the slots on the wheelbarrow I had, and pushed it along with me to the automated garage door into the base. I pushed the wheelbarrow to a drop off area, took my tools off and placed them in a corner, then tipped the barrow over, dumping the bloody contents out and down the chute. The mess would go down to the bottom floor, a restricted area where even I wasn't allowed in. I didn't know what was down there either; all my employer told me was that they would take care of the rest. I never thought much of it; I figured a multi-billion dollar company with advanced technology knew how to clean up human bits, but it made me wonder why they hired me, a professional, when they were getting rid of the evidence themselves. I didn't care, the moment the gore went down the chute, it was no longer my problem, as long as my area was spotless, I was happy. After I hosed and wiped my equipment clean, I set them in the corner and made my way to the elevator, going to the third floor, the lounge. I wasn't going to go home while the battlefield still remained a bloody mess because that would have violated my contract. Instead, I thought I might take a shower, make a sandwich and some coffee, watch some television, go back down and mop up the base, then sleep on the couch in the lobby for the rest of the night. As the door opened to the third floor's lobby, I could hear a conversation. "Man, my ma must be worried sick by now... I mean she's always worried and shit but now she’s probably pulling her hair out by now," A Boston accent piped. "I mean what time is it already, seven? Shit man, Boston's three or four hours ahead, that's like, midnight over there!" I glanced over at the corner of the room; the nine mercenaries of the BLU team were lounging around on the furniture, some with their shoes- their dirty, filthy shoes- on the low-end table, using it as a foot stool. As irritating as this was, I wasn't nearly motivated enough to get near those nutcases; but I felt a need to get to the coffee room. I don't know why I didn't just go back into the elevator, I was either just THAT hungry or I had a death wish, but either one, I quietly tip-toed my way across the lobby. "Don't worry, Scout, I'm sure yer mom is doin' just fine," The engineer replied. "Oui, after all, ze RED Spy left for Boston." said the Spy. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nozzing, I'm just merely saying zat your mother will not be lonely during ze holidays..." The scout stood up from the couch and loomed over the Frenchman, "You wanna freakin' start sumthin' man? 'Cus I'll finish it." "Hey, settle down, lad; we're all just a little tired from the mission." "No seriously, I mean it, what the hell is wrong with you?" "WHO IS LITTLE MUSTACHE MAN GOING INTO COFFEE ROOM?" I froze in place as the Russian man bellowed. I was caught.
Little mustache man...? This wouldn't happen to be the Civilian model would it?
It's more of a handlebar mustashe, like one you see on mario
Neat freak janitor That actually fits real well for TF2.
Part Three is here! I sorry for delay, this took very much long time to translate with no friend to help. Once again, please give constructive criticism. I can not stress this enough, as I wish to be good story teller. Edited by Hybrid. ------------------------------- The rest of the mercenaries jumped out of their seats almost immediately and pulled out their weapons; the sounds of the guns being loaded and clicking in unison echoed through the room. I backed into the wall and covered my head with my arms, protecting it from any harm that might befall me. I briefly saw each of them pointing a gun at me, ready to fire at any moment, before closing my eyes as a blue laser point blinded my vision. "¡No disparen! ¡No disparen!" I cried in panic. "You have five seconds to explain yourself before we blast you full of lead." The soldier said. "Wait a minute guys." the Texan said. I heard his footsteps coming closer, I felt his cold metal hand take my wrist and pull it down, out of the way to get a look at my face. "You know zhis man?" the medic asked in a coarse German accent. I opened my eyes once again, feeling the Engineer blocking the laser point out of my eyes. The shorter man grinned, "Yeah, I've seen you before." He turned to the rest of his team, "Relax y’all, it's just the custodian." The youngest man, Scout, stopped and quirked a brow, "A what?" "A janitor... you know, zee only ozzer job you are qualified for wiz your education," Spy remarked. The men lowered their weapons, some of them still eyeing me cautiously. They looked on-edge, spooked even, like they had seen a ghost. Though, considering they HAD dealt with ghosts on previous battlefields, seeing one probably wouldn't have been that big of a deal to them. Surely I wasn't the cause of this tension; the way they flipped out at my presence made me think they were already expecting something hostile to show up within moment's notice. It could have been that, or they were just plain mental. Whatever the case was, it made me uncomfortable. Once the engineer further explained to his team on who I was, they seemed to lose interest in me, and they returned to their regular conversation. I thought of asking them why they were still here, but considering how jumpy they were to begin with, I thought it would be a good idea to stay quiet. I found it strange, though, that they had not heard the elevator doors open when I arrived to the floor, and only noticed me when the Heavy pointed me out. It was then I noticed their ninth member, the Pyro, was not present amongst them. I thought it best to leave them and continue my quest to obtain some food. I walked to the cut of the room and down the hallway, then entered the first door on my right and turned the light on. The moment I did, I saw a small shadow scurry out of the light and under the refrigerator. Probably just a rat, I thought, I would have to make sure to get some rat poisoning from the janitor's closet later. I prayed that it was just one, just thinking about an entire nest of those filthy creatures running across the beautiful white floors and leaving their bodily fluids in the carpets... the smells and stains would never get out! I was contemplating on how to properly clean urine stains from the carpet as I made my sandwich; strange thing to think about when preparing food, but I had to get my mind off the near-death experience somehow. This was just a minor setback, the team being there for a little longer, if I managed to get Medic's coat cool-white and stainless after missions, and keep the place respectively clean during the daily slaughters called battles, then I could surely clean the place and keep it spotless with nine other people in it. I sat down at the small breakfast table, and then I saw it. Right where the rat had ran from when I turned the light on was a large cut- a cut- on the wooden floor, with bright green ooze splattered around it. I swallowed a hard gulp of coffee, then quietly stood out of my chair and crawled my way to the refrigerator, my heart pounding as I looked under it.
Shit's getting interesting now. One thing I notices is you use the word "that" a bit too much. Also, your title doesn't seem very interesting. Otherwise this is a pretty cool story you have going on here.
hurr. Bumping this, because i like the Janitor and want to read more of this. Uhm, pretty please?