Team Fortress 2 - The Mercs Get REAL Jobs

Demoman - Construction Worker

“What’cha bloody mean, Ah can’t destroy anythin’?!”

Demoman stared incredulously at the foreman, who was looking down at a sheet of intense diagrams.

“You heard me,” he answered. “This is a construction company. You build things, not demolish them.”

“But all Ah DO is destroy stuff! Ah’ve even halfway destroyed mahself a few times!”

“Look, do you want a job here or not? If you want this job, you’ll go out there and build. Understood?”

Demoman glared at him, then turned with a sigh and walked out of the room.

When he had signed up for this job, how was he supposed to know it meant building and not demolishing? True, he had been drunk at the time…and the sign had sort of looked like ‘Construction Site’ instead of ‘Explosion Right’…

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle of his favorite drink, swaggering off to get to work.

He grabbed a hardhat and headed over to the elevator that was meant to take workers to the top of the skyscraper they were building. He headed inside and threw the lever, which immediately made the contraption start moving.

Up, up, up went Demoman, and he was drinking out of his bottle the whole way.

By the time he reached the top, he could hardly see straight.

“Oh mai goshness…” he gurgled, clinging to the edge of the cart as he stared over the far edge of the skyscraper. “Ah crap…Ah forgot Ah I was afraid o’ heights…” He slowly staggered out, clinging to each and every rail he came across.

After another quick drink, he finally found a decent spot and picked up his tools, beginning to work carefully.

He constantly swayed back and forth, his vision dancing before him. “Oog…” he bubbled, hardly holding back a loud burp. “Ah’m not feelin’…so great…”

Feeling rather sick, he leaned over the edge of the building, which was a mistake.

Staring down well over 70+ floors to the ground below wasn’t the best way to relieve a sick feeling.

He promptly vomited everywhere.

Far down below on the streets, the people walking about were suddenly splattered with puke, which fell on cars, lampposts, passerbys and a few unlucky policemen who had been having their break at a doughnut shop.

Back up top, Demoman wiped his mouth and got back to work. Or, he tried to. He ended up hitting his own hand at least eight times with his hammer, unable to see straight.

And then a stick of dynamite fell out of his pocket.

He froze, having felt it slid from his back pocket. He was utterly still as he listened to it roll gently to a stop nearby.

He slowly, fearfully, looked over his shoulder at it.

“Why do Ah gotta carry about a bunch o’ dat stuff?” he asked himself, biting his lip unhappily as the mere sight of the dynamite taunted him. He wanted to pick it up and hug it, then light the end in a blazing inferno and throw it at a few unsuspecting enemies or buildings.

The lunch bell rang at that moment, but Demoman was unfazed. He remained sitting there, motionless, staring at the stick of dynamite as the other workers all left the large structure.

He was the only one left now. Just him and the stick full of highly explosive gunpowder.

“Ah’m not gunna light youuu,” he slurred, trying to go back to work.

You know you want to, it called softly.

“AH SAID AH’M NOT GUNNA!” he shouted, throwing a wrench over his shoulder at it.

It bounced off of the ground behind it, the slight force just enough to send the stick rolling towards him.

“No!” he shouted, scrambling away from it. “Ah’m workin’! WORKIN’!”

He was trapped between the edge of the building and the dynamite, now.

Demoman stared at it for a long time, slowly managing to take drinks out of his bottle from the side.

The stick sat there. Looming. Taunting him. Begging him to light it.

There was silence for a moment longer, then he screamed “YAHOOOOOOOO!” and leapt for it.

Grabbing his lighter from his pocket, he lit the fuse and set the stick down, racing for the elevator, laughing the entire way.

“Ah’m a new man!” he shrieked, still laughing and laughing as he swigged from his bottle. “Construction ain’t for meh! Ah don’t care if Ah need a job! Ah’m a DEMOMAN! HA HA HA!”

He lit fuses left and right, depositing them on various floors of the structure.

He reached the bottom right when they blew up, destroying the entire building.

“HA HA! AIN’T SHE A BEAUTY?!” Demoman shouted, pointing up at the explosion cloud and roaring with laugher. The foreman raced over, face red with anger, ready to shout at him, but Demoman merely threw him his hardhat and raced off with his grenade launcher bared, howling with laughter, heading back towards Mann Co.

The foreman fumed after him, still holding the hat, then froze when he heard a strange hissing sound.

He looked down just in time to see that Demoman had put a stick of lit dynamite inside the hat.

A last, distant explosion signaled Demoman’s departure from the workforce.