Chapter Text
The landscape passed by quickly outside of the little black car driving down the sandy desert road, the tinted windows muting the bright sun bearing down on the rough land.
"So I know it might be a little awkward, since we're bringing you in so late compared to the guys and you've missed the initial bonding and getting to know each other stage, but don't worry, I'm sure the guys'll fit you right in." The woman who had claimed her name was Pauling, said, glancing at over from the corner of her cat eyed glasses.
"All nine of them are men, yeah?"
"Well Py- you know what I'm just going to say yes."
"Alright then?"
The strange buildings in the distance drew closer, the glare of the sun off the sand giving way to show an odd looking compound, made up of two similar looking buildings, though one seemed to be composed of red painted wood while the other seemed mostly concrete, with an expanse of chainlink fence caging in the space and stream between them.
"This is 2fort. This is where you will be stationed for the foreseeable future."
"These buildings, are they old mills or something?"
"Originally yes, but it sees a lot more action than that."
The car pulled up alongside side of the red building. "This our stop. So, remember, today is Saturday, that will give you tonight and tomorrow to get settled in, and your actual work gets started Monday morning. You'll find your uniform in your room, which I'll have one of the guys show you to later." Pauling was the first to open the door once she'd thrown the car in park and grabbed a clip board from the dashboard and slipped out of the vehicle. She walked over to the gate set into the fence, pulling a key and a lock off the chain as her new charge stretched under the hot New Mexican sun. "Follow me."
"Sure thing." Light glinted off a discarded television that was partially buried in the sand as they passed through the gate, pausing for Pauling to lock it again.
They entered the nearest doorway of the almost barnlike structure, and as they stepped up the small ramp the new comer noted that the barrel at what seemed be a rain spout was covered. Odd.
"They should all be gathered in the intelligence room." Said Pauling. The dirt covered floor muting their footsteps as they rounded the corner passed a white sign with bold, red letters saying "Keep Out"
Above them was a grated floor, a large square cut out of the middle. Definitely odd.
Another corner, the ceiling made again of wood.
"This way." Pauling led the way down a hall, another square was cut into the ceiling, white light bouncing down off bright tiles above. Farming tools lined the walls here and there down the long hall, which by the worn track In the dirt of the floor must have seen a fair amount of traffic. The rust gathered on the tools said they likely never saw use and were leftovers from times past.
The hall opened into a small courtyard, lined with wooden stairs, leading up to a platform, to another building and what must have been the one glimpsed from the hole in the ceiling. "Up there," Pauling pointed towards one of the buildings, one with a large sign warning the uninvited away, and from inside the open doorway a sign with an arrow stating "Intelligence" pointed further inside. They trotted up the stairs, the stairs creaking now and again under their shoes. Heels thumping lightly on the platform.
"That- is that cow a made of wood?" On the other side of the chain-link fence stood what looked like a cow.
"Yeah, yeah I think it is." Answered Pauling, giving the standee a cursory glance before she briskly moved on.
The building was small, lit by two low hanging lights and a handful of glass-less windows. A camera blinking in the corner. Ms Pauling nodded towards the stairs set into the floor. A tiny shard of glass still stubbornly sticking to the corner of one empty window frame said the lack of window panes hadn’t been a cosmetic choice.
The stairs led deep, ending inside what seemed to be a repurposed cave of sorts, with half the walls being bare stone. The chill of the corridors a welcome change from the oppressive dry heat of the badlands above.
They turned the corner, passing by a room labeled by the bright sign above it as resupply, and the large bomb shaped logo of RED painted onto the wall. Around the corner of the painted wall was a room with a chair in front of a projector screen, and a shelf lined with time cards was set into the wall next to a water fountain.
Servers and machines blinked and clicked as they walked. "Just around here." A strange machine blinked and blipped in time its spinning radar. "So, the guys can be pretty intimidating, but don't let that get to you. Just keep cool and don't let them push you around."
They passed the window of an obnoxiously white room filled with severs and reels. The combination of the stark white and the bright fluorescents almost making it difficult to stare into the room for long.
Pauling stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall, turning her head to look back as her hand closed over the handle, clipboard tucked under her arm. "Alright, ready to meet the guys?"
"Yes Ma'am." Pauling pushed open the heavy metal door. Several men sat in a circle on the floor, cards between them in a pile. Another sat in the chair behind the desk on the far side on the room, his feet on the desk and hat over his face. Three more men stood talking on the other side of a pair of glass doors. They stopped and stared out the door, sharing a look among themselves.
The men on the floor stood with varying degrees of anticipation, from the giant man with the shaved heads slow, deliberate movements as he rose to the youngest looking man nearly tripping over himself to stand, chest puffed, admiration clear in his blue eyes as they locked upon Pauling.
"Ey, Ms Pauling, good to see ya."
"Hello, Scout." She replied, not coldly, but with a nip of professionalism in her voice.
The three men from the room on the other side of the glass emerged from some hidden doorway on the other side of the room, and the man wearing a hardhat and goggles slapped the hat from the man dozing at the desk as he crossed the room. The man with the hat threw his feet down from the desk and sat up, looking rather offended until he looked around and realized what was going on. He stood and stretched, his pace to join the line that was forming was leisurely, but his long legs made his trip quick.
"Guys, I would like to introduce you to your new teammate. This is The Hunter, she'll be joining the offensive line. Hunter, this is Scout, Soldier and Pyro." She motioned to the youngest man, the man with grenades strapped to his chest, and the only one in the room wearing a gas mask. "They're also on the offense."
The woman In question gave a small wave, brushing back a dark, red curl from her eyes. "Hello. I look forward to working with you."
There was a small chorus of 'Hey"s and "Hellos" from all but the stern looking man in an ill fitting army helmet that was perhaps a size or two too big for his head, who instead raised a hand. "Yes, soldier?" Asked Pauling, adjusting her glasses.
"Ms Pauling, we don't need some silly dame to distract us. It is a liability on the field." He said, his voice with just enough gravel and sternness befitting a drill sergeant.
The comment did not sound as if he meant it personally, but it still put a heat in her veins. And a thick, surprised silence fell over the room as she lunged forward, one hand slipping into the pocket of her dress, pulling out the pocket knife from within as the other grabbed the man by the collar of his jacket and pulled him down slightly, the knife resting against his throat. "Listen here, if I've been hired then it must be for a reason. And if you disrespect me like that again I will gut you like a dead deer, are we clear?" She ground out, brown eyes staring up at him from behind her glasses, a challenge clear in her coiled posture. She wasn’t a stranger to comments on her abilities because of her gender, and most could be brushed aside. But if she was going to live among them, work beside them, then a point had to be made. Sharply, if need be. He stared back down at her from beneath his helmet, and it was clear by the way some of the others watched them they weren’t sure what to make of the scene.
Surprise was written on a few of their faces as the man laughed. "You got moxie, little lady." He pulled himself from her grasp, gave her a hearty clap on the shoulder that nearly pushed her back a step, and shook her firmly, as if nothing had happened and no threats had been made. "Keep that attitude up on the battlefield." He turned, setting off at a marching pace. "I am leaving the room now, goodbye, Ms Pauling." he said jovially, giving the woman a small salute before he walked through the open door and down the hall out of sight. Judging from the looks on everyone elses faces, she can tell she’s the only one left standing there confused.
The man in the construction hat stepped out line and gave the hunter a few light pats on the shoulder. "Don't mind Soldier none. He don't mean no harm." His voice was deep, a southern drawl dripping from his words. "I'm the Engineer, or Dell, if you like, its nice to meet you, Ma'am."
"Aye, he's a bit mad, but he's got a good heart." Said the man with the eye-patch, his voice thick with a Scottish brogue, and a sort of sincere friendliness in his dark eye. "I'm the Demoman. Nice tae meet ye, lass." He said, offering his hand. She met his rough, calloused hand with a small smile. There was something about at least these two men that told her they were going to get along just fine. "Nice to meet y’all too.” When she let go she let her attention turn back to the rest of the motley group.
"I am heavy weapons guy." Was all the largest of the group offered as she met his gaze, giving her the smallest tip of his head towards her. His accent unmistakably Slavic. Russian, if she wasn’t mistaken. One of the easiest things to notice about him were obviously the fact that his biceps alone were wider than her head and she didn’t doubt he could probably lift any of them by the scruff like a kitten. But there was a sort of cold intelligence in his steely face that said he wasn’t the musclebound brute his physique might suggest.
She gave her own nod in answer, figuring a man of apparently few words could appreciate the her saving her own. Her eyes trailing the man in the white coat, that almost looked like he would fit in in the sterile walls of a hospital. But the cut of the coat is unique, the fabric clearly a more utilitarian, sturdier mix and weave than the coat one would see their general physician wearing would be made of. "You're some sort of field medic, yes?"
"You would be correct." The man smiled, showing off broad, straight teeth, and she doesn’t miss the all to familiar accent of a German. "I am the medic." A part of her is curious if the gray creeping into his dark hair from his temples is from age or from the stress of being a healer in such a bloody trade.
The man with the hat offered his hand, standing up straighter as he introduced himself, showing off his full height. "I'm the Sniper. Nice to meet ya, sheila." His handshake and his voice both catch her by surprise. His grip is firm, akin to the sort of handshake one might expect from a business man closing a deal, belied by the sort of rugged air that hangs about his tall frame. But his accent surprises her more. His voice is undeniably Australian, but he’s far slighter and far less hairy than any Australian she’s ever seen. It was clear the man wasn’t some stick and to survive in this sort of life he certainly must be strong, but there’s no trace of the bulging muscles. Nor does he bare the trademark mustache of an Aussie, either. His bears some light stubble, but the lack of that certain facial hair is distinct.
He gave a slight tip of his hat as she turned, eyes landing on the man in the mask, and her mind runs through the brief list Ms Pauling had told her. "If that’s everyone else, than you must be the Spy, then."
"Oui, Mademoiselle." The man replied, his own eyes sweeping over her in a manner, while not cold, was certainly calculating, and she knows she’s being sized up.
"Right, so I'll leave you guys to show her around. I've got to get going." Pauling smiled and gave a small wave before she turned, heels clicking as she took her leave.
"Hey, Hey Ms Pauling, wait up!" Scout called out, jogging after her.
"So who will do the honor?" The Spy questioned.
The Demoman shrugged and turned to her. "I'll do it. If the you'll have me, lass."
"Sure, that'd be great." She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and he nodded.
"Right then, lets git to it." He motioned for her to follow, leading her out the other entrance of the room and down a long concrete hall.
"This place is a lot more like a military base than the upstairs lets on, isn't." She said as the hall opened into the same room with the machines in the wall, much closer to the large logo painted on the linoleum flooring.
"Eh, sort of. We don't really handle any o' that though. It’s all privately funded."
“So this is one of those “Rich Assholes with grudges and too much money to throw away gigs” Eh?”
He laughed, shooting her a small grin. “Aye, yer right on the money there, Lass. I’ve never met the ol’ bastards, but that sounds on the head.”
Two painted spots on the floor caught her eye, one with a brown box that had what looked to be bullets painted on its top, and the other some sort of tin with a bright white cross painted inside a red circle.
"What are those?"
"Oh that's some ammunition's and a medical kit."
"Just lying on the floor like that?"
"Aye, never know when ye might need either of em."
"A-alright then." It was strange, but she had come into this job expecting a bit of oddness. She had found the bloody job through a ridiculous sounding Ad in a newspaper, after all.
"Well go this way." He led her around a corner, up a sloped floor marked with a florescent sign that read "Battlements."
At the end of the long, winding corridor was a thick metal door, and another room with a window showing a desk on the other side with a screen projected onto the wall inside.
Another tin with bullets painted on it, and a large bottle with a cross sat upon more painted sections of floor.
The room beyond that was larger, more barn like with small piles of hay o the floor and sections of the wooden ceiling were missing. Whether this was on purpose to throw off any trespassers or flat out structural neglect, she found she couldn’t tell.
"We'll start with the spawn room." He pointed to the door marked with a sign that said "Resupply" and a skull above it.
He hefted the door up and open easily, and her eyes were assaulted by the bright light of several rows of lights. The harsh light reflecting off the white tiles of the floor.
The Demoman let the door drop behind them. "So, this is where we start everyday.'
The room was simple, two cabinets marked with bullets and a cross sat against opposite walls. Large wooden cubbies had a myriad of items hanging from it or off of it. A pair of weights sat under the bench in front of the cubbies. On the wall not far from the door was a target plaster to the wall, several holes already punched in it from bullets.
"If ye need to, ye can stop in here to grab some more bullets or fix yerself up."
"Whats on the other side of those glass doors?" She questioned.
"That would be the spawn room. Ye don't want to end up there if ye don't have to." Respawn. It was an odd word, and the brief description she’d been given of it only more odd. Unbelievably, really. Nobody could cheat death like that outside of science fiction. It struck her odd he’d keep up the charade of it. The man didn’t strike her as a liar. Perhaps it was contractual, to not scare off the new hire until it was too late? Or perhaps some sort of running joke among those who had been hired on longer that he wasn’t planning to break.
They left the room, following more signs that said "Battlements" to a mostly open space looking out onto the field and stream below.
"So! Like the sign said, these are the battlements, expect tae see sniper up here."
The Hunters foot kicked on of the empty beer bottles, sending it rolling as they passed a sign warning about an unsafe structure. It seemed more and more that the derelict look of the place simply was a lack of care and maintenance after all.
They crossed the battlements, through another door marked resupply, and through a hall into a room very similar to the one he'd shown her before.
"So this is one of the other spawn rooms, It leads the way we just came from, and the ground floor."
Around the corner and down a small hall was the square she had seen before. The Demoman jumped down, and the hunter followed swiftly. "I wondered why there was a hole in the ceiling."
"Makes the trip back a lot quicker don't it?"
"Mmmhm. Pauling took me this way, through that little courtyard."
"Right then, we'll go around."
He pointed to a room Ms Pauling hadn't showed her. "That room over there just leads out to the same way you've been." His eye traveled over to the other way. "Unfortunately, I ought to show ye the sewers too.""
"Sewers?"
"Yeah, leads out into the stream, between the buildings. Each side has a tunnel tae it."
“And that’s not a security concern?”
“Oh course it is. But, gives more of a challenge, I s’pose.” He led her down around the stairwell and she paused as they descended.
"I don't want to risk soundin' crass, but ye may want to hike up ye dres-" He looked back to find she had already gathered up the bottom of her dress, her shoes gripped in her other hand. "Well alright then." He stepped first into the knee deep water, and together they trudged through the large pipe before them.
The water smelt stagnant and strange, but the scent is that of unfamiliar chemicals, rather than excrement and waste. Having strange chemical water on her skin wasn’t ideal, it was preferable to that, at least.
"So, if ye don't mind me askin', lass, but ye don't have much of an accent, so where are ye from?"
"Not at all. I'm from Wisconsin. Stones throw from Canada."
"Ah, so you're Midwestern then. So is Soldier, though he's not from there, I don't think."
The pipe let out into a small room with a set of stairs and a door labeled "Keep Out"
"That pipe there leads right out into the stream. I don't think we need to go that far. But do keep in mind that our base and the base on the other side are the same on the inside.”
As they waded through the water back the way they had came, she spoke up. "Y'know, I'm part Scottish myself."
"Oh really now?”
“My mothers side is mostly Scottish. She was born over there.” She said. “I never did get learn any Gaelic though."
"Oh well now ain’t that a shame."
"It really is. I think I would've enjoyed learning it. But, can't change the fact that I didn't." She shrugged. "You know the story. Brits doing their best to wipe it out and all. No one on the scotch side got much of a change to properly learn it either."
“Hah. Good at that, aren’t they. I suppose my family got lucky. Think mum would’ve whacked me with her cane if I didn’t learn it.”
He stopped at the top of the stairs, letting her slip her shoes back on. "Well, it's a wee bit late in the day, might as well show ye tae where you'll be sleeping."
"That would be great, thank you. It was a long drive."
"Not a problem at all."
He took her through the room they had skipped before, and up the stairs Pauling hadn't gone up, and back through the room that led several ways with the piles of hay. At the far end of the room was another, smaller room, if it could be called that, given that it had no ceiling at all. All but a quarter of the floor was metal grating, with the large square cut into it that she'd seen when she had first arrived. "This door here leads to the kitchen, and the showers, and the bedrooms. Basically where we live." He opened the simple red painted door, and held it open for her. It consisted mostly of a long hall, with many doors and doorways without doors lining it, with a set of stairs at the end. "Its nothin' fancy, but we make do. It's got a kitchen, a dinin' room, and a recreational room along with tae bedrooms." He pointed down the long hall. "You'll be sleeping upstairs, top floor. Between Medic and Spy."
"Alright."
She followed him up the stairs, which had only three doors and another set of stairs. "Ye get the floor with the best windows and the balcony."
She had noted, as they passed by the different doors and rooms that the doors had small plaques on them stating who was in them. A few of which had been defaced in a testament of the personalities of those who occupied the rooms.
The Demoman stopped in front of the middle door. "Alright, this one is yours." She reached for the handle, but paused as her eyes flickered over the plaque.
"But it says Sniper."
"Aye, it is his room, technically speakin, but he lives out on his own in a van, so don't fret its vacant."
"Oh. That's an option? That's cool." She would have shared, if need be. She wasn’t so prudish she’d blanch at the thought of bunking with a man, but she’d been promised her own room, and it was good to see that promise had been kept, even if it wasn’t what she’d been expecting.
"It's unlocked since nobody lives in it, but sniper ought to have the key. So don't be locking yerself out now unless you've talked tae him."
"I won't." She laughed. "But that lock doesn't look like much, I think I could get in if I needed." Or if not the lock, the hinges were basic and a touch rusted, and a screwdriver would make quick enough work of them.
He took a step back "I'll let you get settled in. I'm sure Ms Pauling told ye, but we don't work weekends so ye can take tomorrow easy. Lord knows we will." He laughed.
She waved him off, and stepped into her new room. It was simple and plain, an old wooden bed in the corner, and a short but thick bookshelf that was frightfully bare, and a dresser sat against the wall across. It work need some work, but it would do. She dropped her bag down upon the dressers surface, and sat upon the bed, which creaked under her.
"Okay, so first paycheck is definitely going partly towards this." She muttered, falling back, her head sinking into the pillow and burgundy hair spilling over the old comforter. Her nose wrinkling as she breathed in the heavy scent of mothballs. "I'll have to ask when laundry day is, apparently."