Done on a dare. Do not ask, as it is a long story. I'm gonna see how far I can go before I get bored.
The ground shook as BLU's bomb detonated, destroying a (not really) important RED goldmine that was really a front for a (not so) very important chemical weapons plant. The explosion could be felt for miles around, reverberating all the way to the large factory with the large words MANN in bold font written across the top. It was surrounded by a chain link fence with the sign 'Trespassers will be shot, survivors will be prosecuted' placed in various locations. At the top, on the roof was a large desk, and when I say desk I mean a pile of dead grizzly bears, with a mug of beer placed in front of a large man who was shirtless. The mug and the small placard with the name 'Saxton Hale, CEO', jiggled along the 'desk' from the explosion. The man growled and his mug returned to its place.
After a moment's thought, he snapped his fingers, and a small looking man ran up with a phone. He made a call with a large grin showing under his manly moustache. "Helen, you nicotine-laden sheila, I'm sure you-"his booming Australian voice was cut off by a throaty woman on the other side of the line.
"Yes, yes, I already saw Mr. Hale; it seems we will be doing much business in the future. Just make sure to keep producing those bombs." She replied in a dismissive tone.
"Of course my dear of course!" He laughed. "And about them mercs, I'm sure you'll want me to find some replacements for the dead ones?"
"No Mr. Hale, I already have the problem taken care of."
…Somewhere else that isn't close to the first place…
…that is also classified…
The large Russian looked disdainfully at the tank containing an exact clone of himself. He shook his head. "This is best job? This little baby is baby!" he shouted at the scientist next to him. He stood an imposing seven feet tall wearing a red shirt covered by a black leather vest. Yet despite his size or the more intimidating line of bullets around his chest, the scientist returned with an uncaring gaze.
"I'm sure he is sir, but with our current technology, it is the best we can do.", the lab coat replied nonchalantly. He wrote something else on his clipboard.
"Then you should throw him out! He is not fit to use gun!"
"He is exactly the same to all the others Heavy. And besides he was designed to be expendable." The man swept his hand across the warehouse, with a tank containing clones of the man called the Heavy filling every niche. The Heavy grunted his disapproval.
"Enough. I'm going. When do I get paid?"
"Through that door sir. Your employer would like to speak with you first beforehand however. Something about the contract."
"Contract? I thought paper was signed and done."
Now this was disconcerting for the Heavy. The contract was a 120 page book detailing everything he was expected to uphold while under the employ of The Administrator. He was not allowed to use her real name. He had to spend a week giving copious amounts of samples, only for them to tell him they didn't want it. He had to work alongside eight other individuals who were…straining at best. He had to subject himself to extensive brainwork which left him with an unhealthy obsession to collect hats. It was making his head hurt trying to remember all the things he had to do. Was two billion dollars really worth this? He stopped himself right there. Of course it was! Two billion! Why was he thinking such madness? If he was able to, he'd punch his cowardly thoughts for this. He'd punch them so hard!
"Heavy! STAND TO ATTENTION!" snapped the Heavy out of his thoughts. Standing in front of him was a man that only came up to his chest, He was garbed in the same colored clothes as him, but he was wearing what looked like a handmade army coat with a couple of grenades lining a leather strap on his chest. Though a standard issue helmet covered his eyes, he still seemed to be able to see everyone around him perfectly. 'How?' was something the Heavy still wondered about during his off time.
The Heavy ignored the one known as the Soldier, and looked past him to see the other who had passed the rigorous screening process involving combat prowess, and collecting obscene amounts of urine. They were lined up according to their designations, and the Heavy remembered them all by their class designations, as was required by the contract: page 12, section 43a. Lined up was the scout, the pyro, the demo man, the engineer, the medic, the sniper, and the spy. All of which were NOT standing at attention, much as they were sitting, and enjoying the various snacks they had taken from the snack bar located on the right of the room. The Heavy's stomach growled, and pushed the boisterous soldier out of the way. Looking at the snack bar he was delighted to see a plate full of sandwiches, and took as many as he could carry and a few Blu brews to wash it all down. He took a seat between the demo man and the engineer. "So, why we being called for talk? Anyone know?" he asked between mouthfuls .
"Nope. Yer guess is as good as mine Heavy." The Engineer shrugged.
"Well I got something tae ask meself." The demo man replied. "Like why do all o' me copies are all missin their eye. Just don't be makin much sense."
The Heavy raised an eyebrow. That was odd. However his stomach came first and he munched on the sandwich thoughtfully. No sooner though had the grumbling soldier taken a seat then the televisions in front of them turn on. Helen, called the Administrator appeared glaring at them all. "Well gentlemen, I hope you are comfortable?" she said in a tone implying how she really didn't care.
"I got a question." The demoman said.
"That's good. I'm not interested." She replied with a sneer and lit the cigarette in her mouth. "I'm sure you are all wondering why you weren't given a bulle-your money and a boot out the door, seeing as all we wanted were templates for reusable mercenaries between RED and BLU yes?"
There was a general wave of nods and murmurs of agreement. "Well it seems that was the fault of bad wording. You see when we said 'until usefulness expires', we meant 'until you die'."
This got their attention.
"This is bull!"
"NO ONE HOLDS ME AND GETS AWAY WITH IT!"
As was expected the nine men were all very angry. After all they just signed away their lives. Of course they'd be angry. Not that she cared. Helen smiled inwardly. The best way to deal with such a problem is make them think there wasn't a problem in the first place."Gentlemen please. I understand you are upset."
"Upset? I am downright fumin'!" the Engineer retorted.
Helen blew a puff at the camera before continuing. "Regardless whether you are angry, 'fumin' or 'downright pissed off', I'm afraid that is what the contract says. However I am a fair woman. I know we should have been fairer. Now I will see to it that it is rewritten to be a bit more flexible."
"That's better. The sooner I am away from this place the better." The one called the spy said. He would have added how much he disliked his teammates but being on the light said in a room full of armed men that may not have been a good idea. At least he could keep his appetite sated until then he conceded.
"So what you gonna do with your two bil?" the scout asked the pyro.
The pyro replied in his usual muffled speech that no one understood but the team. The scout noted that right before the pyro started talking his RED Harvest beer was full. Just as he finished answering it somehow emptied. He nodded to the pyro, all the while keeping an eye on the bottle.
"I'm gonna find the next battlefield, and the next one after that. The work of a patriot is never done." The soldier said with a serious look on his face.
"I'm gonna….gonna…gun…..bler….."The demoman slurred before he passed out. Knowing the demoman, no one really cared as this usually happened after a mission. They never even noticed until each and every single one of them followed suite. Just as the Heavy struggled to keep the last threads of his consciousness, the screens lit up once more.
"If you haven't already figured it out, everything was drugged. Oh but don't feel to bad. You really should look on the bright side. The benefits of working for us will ensure you a nice comfortable life for years and years. And years, and years, and oh well I'm sure you know what I mean." She laughed, as the world swirled around and the heavy closed his eyes.
…Some storage facility somewhere…that's classified…
Nine crates were carted into cold storage, the nine mercenaries placed on ice until required. The company had to pay 18 billion to hire these people, they were determined to get their money's worth and were not going to let something as annoying as dying deny them. And all the while the clones of the nine mercenaries fought their secret battles across the world for BLU and RED. And the people of Earth continued as they had for years and years.
...125 years pass…
Humanity achieved space travel, and a colony was established on Mars. RED took this opportunity to build a fortress to house the still living Redmond Mann in the red rock of Mount Olympus. BLU responds by trying to blow it up. Many, many times. And the war between RED and BLU continues.
The storage facility that housed those nine crates was discontinued, and its cargo moved to Martian caps where it was deemed 'a whole lot colder than if hell froze over times infinity'. The nine mercenaries remain in cold stasis, buried under piles of snow and frozen dinners.
…35 years pass…
The First Contact war is coming to a close. With the war between the Turians and the Alliance (with a lot of help from the mercenaries of BLU and RED) coming to a close, humanity takes its first steps into the larger galactic community. Mann Co takes advantage of this by learning all it can about Council military technology. They use their time honored strategy of walking into a manufacturing plant, punching the nearest employee in the face, and stealing a crate of finished product to reverse engineer. Mann Co takes the galactic economy by storm, and purchase a whole planet dedicated to marketing new products for Mann Co and related companies. This world is located on what many still call Vatar. But the current CEO of Mann Co, Seamus Hale, had it officially changed to Mann World, releasing a press statement that Vatar "…is a name for girls. I am not a girl sir." Mann World becomes the lead producer in weapons, war vehicles, and baby needs.
The war between RED and BLU escalate to everywhere, from within the Citadel, to the Terminus systems, to even the home worlds of the Council races. The nine mercenaries have been removed from their crates, and were moved once again to the newest seat of power of both RED and BLU: Mann World.
Commander Shepard enlists in the Alliance military to ensure people like him never have to experience the brutality of another Mindoir. He quickly goes up in ranks until he is placed under Captain Anderson.
…about 20-ish years pass…
The Eden Prime war is well over.
BLU experiences a sharp rise in profits as more demand for reconstruction is commissioned, while RED makes a killing off salvage and recovery. Captain Anderson becomes Councilor Anderson. Humanity continues to expand its influence. Turians steal one of Soverign's guns and reverse engineers the technology. Mann Co. steals their prototype by sneaking mercenaries to punch someone in the face then stealing all data on the project in the confusion.
Shepard's ship the Normandy was attacked, and the blame is put on the geth. Shepard was not recovered and is considered KIA.
Shepard's body is recovered and has already gone the process of revival.
Record keepers for the nine mercenaries are getting a bit lazy and start forgetting to lock up their computers. Data about Team fortress gets leaked onto the extranet, where it gathers a cult following and is made into a war themed hat simulator for the omnitool. Only a few see the true value.
The Illusive Man of Cerberus has what resources not dedicated to bringing back Shepard focusing on finding recruits for the squad Shepard will need. He receives a dossier, with the words MANN CO. INTERGALACTIC emblazoned on the top. He reads through it and a smile slowly forms on his face.