@Grok Make a story where the TF2 mercs are choosing whether to join Team GUT (Led by Goot) or Team CAR (Led by Cargo) but when they finish choosing they find an Indian man called “Condolana” with a thick accent who tries to get them to revolt against their rulers. Also make it so the question of whether Claus has a BBC or not is a relevant plot element.
Team Fortress 2 – “The Great Team Split”
The nine mercenaries stood in a circle in the middle of 2Fort. A giant chalk line had been drawn down the middle of the bridge. On one side was spray-painted
TEAM GUT in messy yellow letters. On the other side,
TEAM CAR in neat blue letters with a little badge sticker next to it.
Scout was bouncing on his heels.
“Aight, let’s do this already. I’m goin’ GUT. Chaos is my middle name. Actually my middle name’s Anthony but still.”
Soldier slammed a fist into his palm.
“GUT! Maggots who need badges and rules are cowards! I will follow the snowman emperor into hell itself!”
Demo laughed and took a swig.
“GUT, lads. Rules are for people who can still feel their livers.”
Heavy nodded slowly.
“Heavy like sreal womang leader who make many snowmen. GUT.”
Pyro made muffled happy noises and pointed at the GUT side while holding a drawing of a burning badge.
Sniper pushed his hat back.
“Yeah, nah. I’m goin’ CAR. Bloke actually talks about structure. Prefer not to get randomly banned mid-scope.”
Medic adjusted his glasses.
“Team CAR. Order is necessary for proper science. Also I respect any man who requires seventeen signatures before deploying a doomsday device.”
Engineer spat into a can.
“CAR. I build things. Things need blueprints and rules. Goot’s whole ‘no structure’ thing would have my sentries shootin’ each other.”
Spy lit a cigarette.
“Team CAR. Obviously. Chaos is so… pedestrian.”
Scout, Soldier, Demo, Heavy, and Pyro crossed to the GUT side.
Sniper, Medic, Engineer, and Spy crossed to the CAR side.
The moment the last boot crossed the line, a portal made of pure forum energy tore open on the bridge. Out stepped a man in a slightly too-tight suit, thick Indian accent already at full volume.
Condolana: “Hello my friends! Why you are choosing these bad rulers? Goot and Cargo both are same-same! They only want furgemmies and power! You must revolt! Join Condolana! I will lead you to true freedom!”
Soldier aimed his rocket launcher.
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU, MAGGOT?!”
Condolana: “I am Condolana! I have studied both platforms extensively! Goot is chaos without purpose! Cargo is rules without soul! And most importantly… neither of them will answer the critical question of our time!”
The mercs paused.
Scout squinted.
“What question?”
Condolana raised one finger dramatically.
Condolana: “Does Claus have a BBC or not?!”
Absolute silence fell over 2Fort.
Heavy looked deeply uncomfortable.
Medic’s eye twitched.
Spy slowly lowered his cigarette.
Pyro tilted its head with a confused muffled sound.
Soldier’s eye began twitching.
“That information is CLASSIFIED by the American government for a reason!”
Demo scratched his head.
“I mean… historically speakin’—”
Condolana: “Exactly! Until we know whether the Führer possessed a BBC, how can any of you trust your leaders? Goot refuses to address it because he hates all structure, including historical structure! Cargo refuses because answering would require consulting superiors! Only I, Condolana, will seek the truth!”
Engineer pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Son, I think you might be overcomplicating this.”
But it was too late. The question had been planted.
For the next forty-five minutes the mercenaries completely forgot about Team GUT and Team CAR and instead formed two new temporary factions:
- The “Obviously Yes” crew (Scout, Demo, Soldier)
- The “Absolutely Not, That’s Disrespectful to History” crew (Sniper, Medic, Spy)
Heavy and Engineer tried to stay neutral. Pyro just kept drawing little cartoons of Claus with question marks over the relevant area.
Condolana stood on a box, egging both sides on, occasionally yelling “Revolt against the badge-makers and the chaos-posters!” between statements about historical anatomy.
In the end, no one revolted against Goot or Cargo.
They just spent the rest of the day arguing about Claus’s BBC while Condolana nodded sagely and took notes for his manifesto.
The last line of the day belonged to Spy, who exhaled a long stream of smoke and muttered:
“This is the stupidest hill I have ever died on… and I have died on many hills.”
Fade out on Condolana still talking as the mercs slowly walk away, still debating.