I've been off the chan for quite a while. This is something I wrote about two months ago in response to a request in the Discussion board, I think? Anyway, it's completely WIP and I doubt I'd be able to finish it... Without further ado--- ---------------------------- “YOU CALL THAT A SOUFFLE? I’LL SHOW YOU A SOUFFLE!†Spy whistled under his breath. Only a week, and the team was already shifting out of control. He didn’t know Soldier was such an avid cook. “AND WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE? MY GRANDMOTHER COULD MAKE BETTER CARAMEL WITH HER ASS!†“Ah, nevermind, Solly, ah was never too good with—WHY THE SAM HILL’RE YOU DUMPIN’ OUT ALL THAT GOOD SUGAR FOR GIMME THAT!†The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the colossal banging of pots and pans. Spy sighed. Now Engineer, too? Just a week ago they’d received a letter stating that brute-force operations would cease and teams would begin business competition. Too bad it had to be restaurants. Not a single one of them knew much about cooking, except him (of course), Pyro, and Soldier, who seemed to be preoccupied with desserts. Things were falling apart. Demoman was more drunk than usual and Medic was drowning in paperwork. Even worse, RED was setting up shop not fifty yards away. A pot lid clattered against Spy’s foot and rolled to a stop. Engineer, one eye blackened, hobbled from the kitchen to pick it up. “Git going,†he said warily. Spy eyed his expression, shrugged, and skipped off down the concrete corridor. On his left, the preparing room; then on his right, a latrine; left, Medic’s tiny office; left again, a storage closet; right, another storage closet; left, the stairwell. Aha! He could pester Sniper. He ran up the stairs and sidled up to Sniper. “Hullo,†Spy said casually, and even though he already knew the answer, asked, “Vat’re you wasting ze beautiful day on up here?†Sniper knew the game. “I’m looking for threats.†“Vat...kind of threats?†“Aggressive REDs.†The sniperifle shifted on his shoulder. Sniper lifted an eyebrow. “Isn’t there anything better you could be doing, spook?†Spy pretended not to hear his last comment. “Oh, but vat for? Zey’ll just come back!†“No, they won’t,†sighed Sniper. He’d played this stupid game at least fourteen times now. “Vhy not?†“There isn’t respawn out here.†The sniperifle shifted again, and this time Sniper was determined to keep silent. Spy tapped his foot lazily, trying to remember what the next question was. The warm sunny air suddenly froze up. Sniper’s back stiffened. A flash of something crossed his scope, and his finger tightened on the trigger when he realized—when he realized it was BLU Scout. Sniper dropped his gun and both men rushed down to onto ground floor, where a small crowd had already congregated at the front door. “Anyway—“ Scout gasped, “before aussie nearly blew my head off—†pant, “like I was sayin’—†pant, “the REDs are all done settin’ up—†pant, “—shit, they even got some customers comin’ in.†He looked up at the shock on everyone’s faces. “Swear ta God ah ain’t lyin’.†“We believe ya, son.†Engineer’s face darkened. “When you said ‘some customers’—†“Like ten o’ twenny, yeah,†Scout replied between breaths. Ten or twenty! Medic slumped exhausted against Heavy’s shoulder.
Oh god I remember seeing this get requested in that TF2 In Real Life thing. I think this is pretty good.
whoa, I was the one who posted the photograph, I cannot express my joy right now. Please, for the love of souffle, proceed!
*insert obligatory "cupcake" joke*
>>3 What photograph?
this bit is also very old sorry for a half-page-long bump but I had to get this out -------------- Ten or twenty! Medic slumped exhausted against Heavy’s shoulder. The way things were going, it would be a miracle if they managed a single customer in the following week. Nothing was prepared. The building was in tatters. There was absolutely no way they could even masquerade as an attractive restaurant. It was completely impossible. Soldier saw these thoughts playing out on the faces of his teammates. His men, thinking "can't this can't that!" A patriotic fury rose within him. "So," he barked, "are we going to beat some RED ass, or do you maggots want to sit around for another month?" He was met with silence. "Well, then, I'll do it myself!" Silence again. Soldier marched off into the kitchen. A minute passed, thick and heavy with summer heat. Mosquitoes buzzed around Sniper's hat but he didn't bother to swat at them. Scout, breathing normally now, glanced nervously at the drooping heads around him, and excused himself to the restroom. The mercenaries, now two men short, each feverishly began contemplating solutions for their current situation. A tremendous racket erupted from the kitchen. Pyro winced at a sudden thump, and, sighing, went to check on Soldier. Sniper retreated to his high perch on the roof. Spy disappeared. The team splintered into nine men in different places, occasionally meeting up to make plans that were thrown out by the dozen. Demoman went deep into the cellars for comfort. Medic barricaded himself into his room and fell asleep immediately. He was woken an hour later by the sounds of shouting and laughter. Groggy, he fumbled around for glasses and slapped them on. All he could think while unlatching the five bolts on his door was that someone better have a good explanation for this. Medic staggered into the kitchen. He stood dumb for a while at the white shapes of Pyro, Soldier, and Engineer, who stared dumbly back. Dreadful understanding began to dawn on him. "Vhat," he began slowly, "vhat were you thinking? Painting zhe kitchen with flour! Making an absolute mess! And vhaking me up with your raucous dummheit!" Pyro started to giggle. "Sie! Fick dich! Do you know how much zat bag of flour cost?! Do you know how long it vill take to clean zis up!?" Medic was bristling in anger. "Aw, calm down, Doc," Engineer said, smiling. "The place maht be a little outta sorts, but ah think we've found the answer to our problem with RED." "And vhat vould zhat be?" Engie reached into a flour-covered frying pan and drew out a piece of fried chicken. "This." He dropped it into Medic's hand. "It smells delicious, but I do not see how a-- how a chunk of meat will solve anything." "C'mon now." Engineer's face contorted into a facesplitting grin. "You gotta see past the dish." "Vhat?" Engineer gestured towards Pyro and Soldier. "As it turns out...these two ain't half bad cooks." A moment passed, and Medic, drowsy from filling out forms, black-eyed from lack of sleep, roared in laughter. They could do this.
Oh my Lord, I haven't laughed this hard in AGES. Just- A restaurant run my mercenaries, and the two most unstable members happen to be the best cooks. Laughing my ass off.