Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It isn't often someone knocks on your door. Especially when it's the middle of a snow storm in February. You just finished cooking dinner under the small house you live in. Your wooden cottage rested in the country just far enough from civilization. Fire roared up into the chimney from the fireplace making the house smell of crisp smoke and the scent of a cooked meal. The knocks continued for a second time before you decided to open it. There stood a lady in purple with hair to her shoulders, glasses resting on her face that wore a warm smile despite the cold. Her eyes held something locked away making you feel tense as she looked you up and down. She held a hefty looking folder in her right arm with papers that looked as if they were just printed.

“Ah, so glad you answered! It's quite cold out here, mind if I come in?” Her smile never leaves her face as she looks you in the eye.

You don't respond. Instead you shut the door in her face. Well you try. Before the door could click the woman placed her foot in between the door and the frame letting a quick frown show on her face as the wood hit her.

“I know you aren't one for guests, but we really need to talk. Your work has become sloppy causing some unwanted attention towards you,” As she says this her smile leaves completely and an urgent tone sinks into the space you both occupy. Her hand pushes the door open. What does she mean you’ve been getting sloppy? Your last job was two or three weeks ago and as far as you know you did pretty good. No witnesses, little mess and a big wad of cash for your wallet. Plus how could she know anything? Is she with the police?

“Don’t get me wrong, you do a good job. One could say I'm impressed with what you do. However, they found the body of your latest victim.”

You stand there absolutely dumbfounded and honestly quite angry. “I don't know what you're talking about,” you state in a monotone voice. Your stance is relaxed despite your uncertainty.

“I think you do.”

“Listen ma’am, you may know my name but that doesn't mean shit. My dinner is getting cold so I want you to leave.”

The woman walks into your house and takes a seat in your living room despite her intrusion. She sits facing you and places the folder she has on your coffee table. You close the door and make your way towards her. Towering her seated form as she slowly opens the folder revealing all the answers to your questions. Pictures of you and your car. The victim next to the man who paid you for his death. Finally two pictures, one of you killing the poor bastard, another one of you burying his body a few miles away from the scene. More photos were taken but these were the ones that had dates in the corner and circles drawn in red marker. For the first time you've been caught.

“Where did you get these?” You stumble on your words a bit.

“One of our employees retrieved them for us. You never noticed him the entire time, even when he was only a few feet away.” Now the woman starts pulling out more papers. You see her pluck a record out. It has your face on it along with a lot of your personal information. “I’m not here to arrest you, in fact quite the opposite. You are just the person we've been looking for. You see, my employer runs a business similar to what you do, just a little more social and getting into the line of action.”

You stand there dumbfounded. This woman comes into your house, accuses you of murder, takes a seat in your living room, just to offer you a job? You sit across from her, giving her an eye roll. Your stance remains in a calmed posture as you reach for the photos.

“If you wanted to offer me a job all you could have done was call, send a letter, a sketchy envelope. Doing all this doesn't make me want to work for you at all.”

“I understand, trust me when I say I know how intrusive this was, but it was necessary. You can say no or anything implying you are to decline the offer. The only thing is that if you do, we will be contacting a few people about your wellbeing, where you live and who you have worked with. We will tell them about your perso-”

You slap the pictures back down on the table in an attempt to quiet the woman. You haven't felt this desperate in years. “Okay, okay! I get it!" You quickly stutter out. "I'll take the job. Just leave my name out of the papers." Fear becomes apparent from the woman in front of you.

“Great to hear! Now let's talk about your new job with Mann Co," she gathered the items from the folder and closed it as if she had been waiting for you to crumble. She places the file on the edge of the coffee table, still in her reach. “ You will be moving your being and belongings to a base stationed in New Mex-”

You cut her off again but this time breaking your loose posture and holding yourself to seem as if you were trying to size her up. “I said a job, not a new home. I don't plan on leaving here anytime soon especially to some random ‘base’ in New fuckin Mexico. I don't even know your name!”

“Oh, I completely forgot! I'm Miss Pauling. I'm an assistant at Mann Co. Better?”

“No! I'm still not going to New Mexico! If you have a job for me just give me a week at least and I'll get it done, promise!” You know you can't deal with the heat New Mexico has to offer. Plus you just paid off your last down payment for this cozy little house you found for yourself. Leaving here would be leaving a lot of your accomplishments behind, although very few.

Pauling, now having the frown return to her face, places her hand back onto the file. “May I remind you of the information we have. I don't mean to get on your bad side, but if you don't want this to get out I implore you to take this job and forget about your current life as it is now.”

The corner she has you in keeps getting smaller. You haven't dealt with this before. Usually you're the one pulling people into their graves. She's right though. If you don't take this job, who knows where you will end up. If people found out what you did, you could kiss your cozy cottage goodbye. The best option would be taking up the offer. Despite being threatened to.

“Sure, whatever. I’ll go, but only if my house stays here and when I do come back it's still my house.”

Gleaming, Miss Pauling claps her hands together. “Of course! Now, Back to what I was saying before. You will be stationed in New Mexico for your new living quarters. You will have nine team mates and a room of your own. Think of these new teammates as roommates as you will be living in the same base as them.”

Nine people, and living with them? This woman said it would be ‘a little more social’ not nine new house mates. You worked alone. The last partner you had, although very long ago, ended up dead when working with you. Ever since you've worked by yourself and under only a few.

“That's all I can tell you for now. We will have a van arrive in the next 24 hours to pick up you and your belongings. You will be informed more about your new position along with what you should be expecting. Make sure to only bring clothing, sanitary products and personal items. Weapons along with gear will be supplied. Oh, and please only bring three to four boxes, we don't have much room.”

“Uhm, sure?” you say as you look at her quizzendly. You can't find yourself to say anything else. So much has just happened in what felt like a minute, although it was about 15. Your mind feels like jelly with all the information you've received. Your heart is in your stomach and your breath seems to be shortened. The gaze you held on Pauling finds itself strained to the floor as you spiral.

Miss Pauling stands up, picking up the folder and placing it back under her right arm.

“Well I'll see you tomorrow night. I can already tell it will be a pleasure working with you!” Just like that Pauling heads to the door with quick steps as if she was in a hurry somewhere. She opens the door and doesn't even bother looking back at you before she closes it and heads into the snowstorm she had emerged from.

You feel sick. The hunger you had before this whole encounter turns into knots. Your hands held onto your pants in a tight grasp that you never noticed until now. Nine new people and you have to move down to the dreaded south. You don't even have boxes for you to pack, nor the motivation. Looking around your house you spot your now cold dinner on the stove. The smell is long gone by now along with the died down fire.

Great.

Placing your head in your hands you hold back your hammered emotions and give a long sigh. This better be the longest 24 hours of your life.

Chapter Text

Five hours of sleep is all you got that night. Head hit the pillow at 12, right after Miss Pauling's visit, but you couldn't sleep.Your mind formed a pessimistic stew that kept you awake. The snow storm raged on, throwing itself upon the rounded logs of your walls. Blasts of ice glistened from your open window, hiding the stars and becoming their own. Wind howled a tune that you've heard before. In the end thumping of flakes is what puts you to sleep.

“KISHHHH!”
“ISHHHH!”

You wake up groaning and reaching for the alarm on the nightstand. The alarm was a radio alarm but because you lived so far out it usually played static when it rang. Freezing air hit skin when your arm reached out of the covers. Your alarm stops once the button atop of it is hit. Slowly you pull the covers down and sit up on the queen sized mattress. The time was currently 8am which gave you a few hours until Pauling arrived to take everything away.

Standing sluggishly, you head towards the bathroom to get ready for the outside world. Whenever you did something like brush your teeth or put on deodorant you put them into groups for the boxes once they were picked up. Dressing yourself was harder than usual because you haven't done your laundry in awhile. You ended up wearing some old clothes that don't smell too bad. This caused you to take some garments and throw them into the rust filled truck outside. The truck was red with a blue stripe running horizontally along it. Something your friend had gifted you. You started the old truck up and then left it to heat up. There was a laundromat in town that would do the work on the clothing. You never liked it there though because the man who ran it was always too talkative for your liking. Always pushed his nose in others business. It made sense for him though. His nose was huge just like the rest of him. He stood at about 5’8” but it was the pounds he had on him that made him a bit intimidating.

Packing was harder than you thought. Sorting what was needed or what was just some lame sentimental junk was rough. Of course the essentials were packed like personal hygiene products. Decisions like if you should take your favorite cat mug or the cat pens you keep on the nightstand were a little more tricky. In the end you decide to bring both. Lastly you pack your Jurnal, leaving the five others that are already filled to the brim in your closet.

You looked over to the medium sized cat plush that rested on your bed. It meant alot to you. You can't remember where you had gotten it from or the reason why you kept it. The kitten was worn. Its right ear was ripped off and it had stitches along its back due to its hardships over the years. The matted fur it had was stained with liquids you couldn't place. You place the stuffie into the take plie.

You head back towards the car assuming you gave it enough time to heat up.

The ride into town was a slippery one you've done before. No one ever came out here so the roads were never plowed or salted. The town rested about 30 minutes away from you so it wasn't too long of a drive. It wasn't one made often. At least three times a month when you weren't on a job. The closer the truck got into town the more the radio played. About halfway the radio made music for the rest of the car ride.

Doing the errands went quicker than expected. When you arrived at the laundromat the man running the place never came out. Thank the lord above. Clothes were tossed half haphazardly into the machine and then spun once the metal ate the money. The place smelled of dew. It matched its rundown appearance as well. This place never got any business. From all the time you spent here you've only encountered one or two more customers. That's why you liked this place so much.

You leave your clothing and head back to your car, making your way across town. The grocery store was old just like the town and looked to be at its end. Many people came here but the money that came into the place didn't seem to go into its looks. The store was pretty vacant when you entered it. The few people in there tended to stare at you and when you looked back they pretended they were shopping. You couldn't blame them, you never really came into town. Probably known as the outsider freak by these people, not that it bothered you though. Boxes were found quickly and paid for at the register. The teenager running the till gave you a skeptical look when you pulled out a stack of cash from your pocket. Shyly looking away, you pay them and take the boxes to your car. You then drive back to the laundromat.

Walking inside you spot the man you dread seeing.

“Good morning, feller! Was wondering who came in here without my knowledge, haha!”

The man who had blessed you with his presence, Brad. You had hoped the man wouldn't come out of his little office to see you.

“Hey.” You say in a voice that screams leave me alone. You quickly transfer your clothes into the dryer.

Brad walks to you and leans on the table that stood to your left. “Say I haven't seen ya in awhile. Where ya been? Not hiding from big old me I hope!”

“If only I could.”

“Hahaha! C'mon do tell! You must live somewhere not far from here, right? Why you never come here more often?”

You don't respond to the prying man. Nervousness starts to take form in your stomach as the man looks at you for an answer. Putting the money into the machine, you then leave to your truck outside.

“Hey now, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable! I know you'll be back in here once these are done.” He yells this as your figure leaves though the door. Hearing him chuckle to himself just makes you uneasy.

Once in the car your head hits the steering wheel. Maybe New Mexico
Wasn’t so bad. Couldn't be worse than this shit town. Sure the winters were nice and the cabin in the woods made you feel safe. However the creepiness of the town or the constant gossip you could deal without. But You did make some memories here. Like when you and your friend had a snowball fight in the forest behind your house. You hit them so hard they tripped over a log and got snow all over their back and neck. Or the night after your first job. The blood stained your skin for weeks. You and your buddy never expected it to be so messy. The red liquid was everywhere. Even when it was cleaned off you could still see it even though you knew it was gone. The next few weeks were hell for both of you. Although the cash made it a little better.

You look at the clock seeing that an hour has already passed. You walk back into the laundromat and luckily don't see Brad. quickly grabbing your clothes, you head out.

For the final time you get into your truck and make the trip back home. You go slow this time. You roll the windows down despite the cold hitting your skin. You're gonna miss this. The snow that comes every year in its unpredictable patterns, or how your car jumped at every snow bump that you drove over. You didn't know how long you were going to be gone but if you're stuck with living somewhere else and having to pack you assume it's going to be awhile.

You get back home around noon. You take everything out of the car and haul them inside. Boxes were then filled with the necessities and little things. Another box was filled with clothes. You packed undergarments, tanktops, hoodies, socks and some pants. A sweater was also placed inside. A sweater that held a lot of baggage. A picture of a cat was printed on it. It was something you would see a grandma wear in the middle of fall. You bring it up to your nose and smell the floral detergent that was used on it. The cloth had a rough feeling to its outside but the inside was soft and warm. Bringing it with might be a little risky because of how much it meant. But leaving it here would be leaving it with no one to watch it, so into the box it goes. Everything else was packed up and piled by the door. It was easy to say within the 3-4 box limit. You didn't have much.

The sun was still out when you were finished. The nervousness in your stomach grew as you realized that Pauling would be here soon. You take this time and just lay on your now naked bed. You take some deep breaths and place your hands to your side. You couldn't really think much at the moment. Just wanted to rest. Closing your eyes you start to drift off. Not fully sleeping but not fully aware either.

“Knock, Knock!”

Two dreadful knocks drag you back to reality. Sitting up you can see that the moon is out and night has fallen. Had you really been out of it for that long?

“Knock, Knock, Knock,”

Right the door. You stand up with a stretch, feeling your shoulders. Sluggishly, you stumble to the door. Slowly you reach for the knob. Someone beats you to it because before you could even touch the handle the door opens.

“Ah,” says a man who you don't know. He's dressed in a ski mask and a striped tuxedo. He looks at you up and down with a slight scowl on him. At least you think it's a scowl, you can't really see much. “ Bonjour. You must be the new recruit, Oui?” And he's french.

Chapter Text

"I like to think I am," You say with a slur in your voice. Your head is still trying to make sense of the situation you have found yourself in. You push the door open wider. The man that stood in front of you was quickly pushed aside and Pauling made herself seen.

“Great to see you again! I hope you're all packed because we really have to get going. My boss wants you there for the next battle,” Pauling’s smile was the same warm grin she wore when you first met. The outfit she had on was also the same. You could see her shivering from the night's cold.

“If you don't mind I’ll be having Spy take care of your boxes while I talk to you more in depth about what you will be doing under Mann. Co."

The man now labeled as 'Spy' walks into your warm winter cabin. He takes in the atmosphere your place radiates. The warm air gave anyone who entered a hug and a sense of security. However Spy didn't seem affected by this warm hug. He scanned over the room and then turned to the boxes that sat by the door. You watched the way he took in the environment closely. You could tell he wasn't one to let his guard down easily. With the name he had you can't blame him.

“Sure no problem,” You shrugged.

Spy is already taking boxes outside when Miss Pauling starts talking again.

“Great. Let's start off with what people usually want to hear, the pay. We're willing to offer $10,000 for your work. It will be in monthly payments. Every first day of each month."

A whistle lets out between your lips as you hear the money you will be making. It almost makes up for the way they threatened you as well as forced you out of your house.

Almost.

“That sounds great to me, Miss."

"That's what they usually say. Anyways you will have to be prepared for the battles that often occur with the job. We will provide you with weapons that we see fit your person. Since we already know what you're good at we have already picked out what you’ll be using. I have your weapons back at the base in your room. Other than that I think you should be good information wise for now. Everything else will be easier to explain once we get to base. All you have to do now is lock it all up and hop into the car!”

Just then Pauling points to the garbage fire she called a 'car'. This 'car' looked more like a van and was covered in rust. The wind shook the vehicle like a leaf and took its white painted metal with it. On both sides of the van the word 'JAIL' was spray painted horribly. You could see Spy by the car opening the back of the van to stuff your belongings in. When he did the sketching of demons rang from the worn hinges. Spy makes a displeased face from the sound. You're pretty sure he said some things in French and if he was anything like you he had to have sworn or have said some crude things.

“This 'car' looks really eye-catching for having people like me in it," The way you say this clearly shows how dumbfounded you are. “I know you guys wanted to pick me up but you gotta let me take my truck. There is no way I'm riding in that death trap.”

“I don't think- Well maybe…” Pauling seems to have caught on to what you were saying. You could tell she was hesitant with letting you ride alone though.

“I can’t blame you for not wanting to ride along. Spy and I had some problems on our way here and now with the boxes' weight and then yours. “

“Boxes are in the van,” Spy says suddenly. His abrupt appearance causes you to jump.

“Ah, Spy! A little warning next time!” Pauling holds her chest while giving Spy a glare. Spy gives her back a small smirk that could easily be missed.

You could have sworn he was still shoving boxes into the back of the car. The crunching of his footsteps should have alerted you but instead you were jumpscared by the Frenchmen.

“ Apologies, mademoiselle. With everything packed away just thought I should let you know that I'll be waiting in the Vehicle."

“Actually Spy, would you mind riding with the newbie here in their car. As much as you want to ride alone I can't allow that. You probably understand. Don't want you getting lost or anything."

You give Pauling a displeased look. "If it's the only way I can take my truck with me I'll do it.”

Spy then turns his head towards you. “Does your vehicle have heating?” He asks.

“Once she gets started she warms up quite a bit.” You shrug.

“Good,” Spy turns and walks towards your truck. “Better hurry, don't know how much longer I can stand this hellish cold."

“Thanks Spy!” Smiles Pauling. “And thank you, I know how much you aren't one for company. Hopefully I'm still sorta on your good side.” you can tell she feels bad from the way her eyes look at you. As much as you want to be mad at her for all she did to you, you can't. Her boss, whoever that is, is the one making her do all of this. The threatening, moving, tearing you away from your comfort. Now that you think about it, a lot of what she's doing is just a bunch of orders.

“You better lock your place up before we go. Don't want any snow sneaking in. When you're done with that and in your car just honk and we’ll start moving. Just follow me on the ride to base camp," she informs.

“Alright."

Pauling gives you a thumbs up and starts walking towards her van. You turn around and take a last look at your place. You take your last hug from the crisp air. The sense of security depleting as your time is coming to an end. Everything is becoming so surreal. The situation you found yourself in makes your heart heavy. You're really leaving and you don't know when you will be back. Will you ever be back?

“We don't have all day!” Yells Spy over the wind.

Right, you need to leave. You take the keys and start walking out of the door. The warm air’s arms hold you, clinging on as you walk outside and lock the door. The cold pushes off the warmth and replaces it with its cold breeze. Once your door is locked you start making your way to your car. Spy is leaning on the passenger door waiting for you. The crunching of your footsteps getting closer makes Spy hold onto the door handle and wait for you to unlock the door. With the Click of the button you both get in.

Chapter Text

It was about three hours into your ride that your ass started to get soar. Pauling hadn't stopped to take a rest yet. You constantly shifted in your seat to get the numb feeling out of your body and focus back onto the road. However the road part was harder. Concentrating is hard when an unknown man sits just a few inches beside you. The two of you haven't spoken a word since you left your place. The entire car ride he watches you. His eyes glance at your figure while also making it seem he could care less. This guy was making you feel incredibly uncomfortable.

The steering wheel becomes slippery as your nerves are set into overdrive. Your introverted nature comes out and you feel yourself cave into your seat. Slipping from your current reality and into your mind. A place that you ran to often.

"You drive so slow!" Your friend says from the passenger seat. "If you don't go faster he's totally gonna rock our shit!" You can tell they're anxious by the way their voice becomes slightly raised, or how their left leg bounces at an abnormal pace.

You give a small glare to your friend. "Calm down, acting like that is what's going to get our shit rocked. Just chill out, I know what I'm doing."

"You said that last time." Your friend isn't too happy about your current situation. No one in your shoes would be. A body in the back of your car, probably leaving blood stains, would make anyone upset.

"What are you giving me that look for?"

You're forced back into reality, looking at Spy. His eyes look annoyed and he has a frown on his face like always.

"What no response?" He hisses.

It takes a few seconds to finally realize he's talking to you. "Just thinking," your eyes quickly dart back to the road. Hands now fumbling with the steering wheel causing the truck to stagger a bit off the road.

You hear Spy let out a scoff and mumble something to himself. At least he tried too. You hear him say something along the lines of "how could they be so incompetent to pick you?" He spoke more words but in French so you couldn't figure out the rest. This guy was clearly not pleased with your presence.

You try to keep your mind off Spy, taking your eyes to the road. Snow continues to litter the land. The moon at its end and the sun about to shine. Pauling still drives the worn van in front of you. Her turn signal comes on abruptly making you do the same. She turns into an old gas station. The sign of the building is rusted and cracked much like its exterior. You park next to Pauling and get out of your car. Spy joins you as well and both walk up to Pauling who has also exited her car.

"My back is killing me, seriously how hard is it to make a comfortable seat," the woman groans. Her hands rub her back in an up and down motion. "It amazes me I even lasted the way here."

Peeking into her car window you see what she's talking about. The seat is ripped open in multiple places. Metal sticks out along with what you think is the cushioning. You can't tell due to its dirtied cover.

"Their car is not better," Spy dead pans while sticking his thumb in your direction.

Pauling gives the spy a small glare. "At least you're getting some heat."

"Very little."

You're now looking at Spy and he returns your gaze like he didn't insult your vehicle. Sure she was old and rough around the edges but she was good to you.

"You can ride with Pauling again, really I don't mind," you Jeered.

"At least she doesn't have a staring problem."

A blush spreads across your cheeks and your once nervous posture returns. "I-I didn't mean too! I was just lost in thought, I told you that!" You fumble out words and your hands start to clench.

"Sure, whatever you say, fluer."

Pauling then stepped in-between the two of you. She gave you an apologetic look and then turned to give Spy a glare. "Seriously Spy, can you just be grateful for one second. The last thing we need is fighting with the new member."

"Sure, mademoiselle. But don't expect much." He then walks away from you and into the gas station.

Pauling turns to you with hands on her hips. It's just the two of you and this makes you take in her appearance. She looks tired by the way her face sinks a bit. Eye bags are prominent under her glasses along with the small wrinkles under them.

"Sorry about him, he usually isn't like this. He's more quiet and keeps to himself. Don't know why he's all sass today."

You look at Spy's figure in the gas station window. He seems to be asking for something from behind the counter. "Don't worry about it."

"If you say so." Pauling says. "You should probably take this time to stretch a bit and do another business. We still have hours on the road."

"Alright, I'll be back in five."

Pauling gives you a thumbs up and you head inside the gas station.

The place smells like what you would expect from an old gas station. Dust in an apparent smell along with oil. You try to act like you aren't about to sneeze while you walk towards the restrooms. After doing your business you take a look at the beverages. You aren't too sure if you should trust the drinks here but you have no other option. You grab your favorite beverage and water to even it out. The artificial cold feeling brings chills to your body when you open the glass door. Next you grab a small snack and head for the check out. You paid for your things and made your way outside.

Spy stands by the passenger door smoking a cigarette. You hated the smell. The ash scent has always made you nauseous. Your friend used to smoke. You always kicked them outside when they did. It never really worked however because when they walked back in they brought the scent with them.

You walk to the driver's side of your car and do some basic stretches. Blood flushes into your limbs as your muscles flex and then relax. The smoke still lingers as you finish up. Looking over you see Spy taking one last drag of his cigarette and tossing it onto the ground, hopefully he put it out. He steps into your car once he's done.

Pauling walks over to you once more. "I'm ready to go if you are."

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Great, just continue to follow me and hopefully we'll be there on time," she waves you off and takes her leave back to her van. You take in one last breath of the winter air before stepping into your car.

As you buckle yourself up noticing how Spy's ignoring you. You don't understand what his problem is with you, at least not completely. Sure you might have annoyed him here and there but nothing too bad. Maybe it was just him. From what you know his whole thing is being mysterious and closed off. Pauling had said so herself. You could also tell he had expensive taste. From the way he fit in his suit to the cologne he wore. Maybe he was just a rich asshole and you are overthinking it. Whatever his problem is, you just hope it clears up.

Your hands hold the steering wheel tight as you drive over some roadkill. Your body being sent into the car door is what brings you back. Looking over you see Spy rolling his eyes at your clumsiness.

You have to get your head in the game before you get to base. If everyone sees you like this there's no way they will take you seriously. You know that you're capable, you just have to make them believe it too.

Chapter Text

The sunrise hits the land after hours on the road. Warm light settles on your face making you squint. Your eyes droop constantly as sleep tries to drag you in but never succeeds. You couldn't rest because Spy wouldn't drive. He said something along the lines of your car being too old and worn for him. So here you are, driving in the now desert landscape with a dozing man next to you. However, he never fully went to sleep. Whenever you shuffled a bit or took a drink his eyes would open slightly as if to tell you he's watching.

Sand is all you can see along with the few cacti that are scattered across the area. This is the first time you're viewing the barren south. You've always lived up north where snow took up most of the year and only left three months for the summer. Therefore heat was never something you could handle. You hated how your body became sticky or the way you could never get rid of the burning sensation on your skin. You hated how you could feel it now. The sweater that used to keep you warm was now making you melt. You have a tank top underneath but you would feel awkward stripping in front of Spy. Sure he has his eyes closed now but as soon as any movement is made they fly open.

As much as you hate Spy's stare you can't take another minute in your sweater. Placing you knee on the steering wheel, you move your hands to the hem of your top, quickly pulling the heavy fabric above your head and off your body. The truck swerves off-road and starts to bump up and down as it treads on soil. Then out of nowhere a hand shoots in from your right and takes the wheel, turning back to the road.

"Are you crazy?!" Spy says with his hand still on the wheel. His whole torso is touching you while his face is right next to yours.

"No! I'm just hot." Your body tries to make distance with Spy's but it's hard with the limited space you're given.

"Just because you're a little warm doesn't mean you can kill us!"

"You're being dramatic, I had control of the car. Plus there's nothing out there but sand."

The Frenchman gives you a glare which is more effective considering he's mere inches away from you. "I know this land much more than you. Believe me when I say you could have killed us." He then pushes his body away from you, letting go of the steering wheel.

The vehicle swerves once again but more violently. Your hands are now the ones darting for the wheel, taking the circle in a death grip. Once you have gained command you look at Spy with a sour look. In return he rolls his eyes. Before you can say a snide remark he rotates a bit too look out the window. Completely disregarding you.

On the bright side of things, you're not as hot now. Your skin is blessed with ac, the comforting cold taking your body in its wintery aura. You are able to relax a bit thanks to it.

Thirty minutes pass before you see a structure in the distance. It has triangular roofing along with what you think are power lines. Everything is blurry because of how far you are. As you get closer you see more details like a bridge, fencing and huge white cylinders. When you look at the big picture it looks like shit. Like something you would see an old farming couple live in, only they haven't taken care of the place.

When you get near the building Pauling's van pulls into the parking lot that has another truck in it. She parks by the bridge and you do the same. Spy is the first to get out, leaving once you slow down, not even waiting for you to come to a stop. He takes off to Pauling as you get everything sorted out. Turning off the car and collecting your sweater before you leave your vehicle. You see Pauling talking to Spy while opening the back of her van, the same creaking from before sounds.

"Where is everyone?" She questions.

Spy takes out a cigarette when he responds. "It's Friday. They're all at the bar getting drunk off their asses."

"I told them about the newcomer. Seriously, do they ever listen to what I have to say?" Pauling becomes irritated as she starts to take boxes out of the trunk.

Spy takes a long drag of his smoke. "Scout sometimes listens to you."

"Exactly, he only listens sometimes. He only does what I say when he thinks it'll impress me."

You drown the two out as you look around. The base is bigger than you were expecting. The land around it was barren but considering that these people killed other people you aren't surprised. Another building is spotted nearby that was about the size of a regular home. Outside of it had weight lifting equipment, a vending machine and truck tires that can be used for working out.

A finger taps your shoulder.

"Grab a few boxes and I'll bring you to your room." Says Pauling as you bring your attention to her.

She received a nod as an answer.

You stack two boxes on each other and then place your sweater on top before lifting them up, somewhat covering your vision. The boxes are heavy but nothing you couldn't handle. Pauling, Spy and you start making your way to the entrance of the base.

You follow the two in the unfamiliar environment. As you stroll you take a look at the place. You're brought down a hallway and on one side are two big doors that have a sign saying, "the doctor is out!" on it with a smiley face. Farther down there's another door that has a window through it. You can just peek through it enough to see a kitchen like setting and a huge table. The kitchen looked big, it's a scene you've seen in your victims houses. The large fridge and glossy countertops is something only the high class could afford. A figure in a hard hat moves around the room. You're not able to get a good look as you keep walking.

Continuing, you walk for a few seconds, taking right and left turns, finding yourself already getting lost. Soon you arrive at another hallway. Doors line themselves up against the walls, each having pictures on them. Pauling stops at one with a picture of a thumbs up on it.

"Here we are," She says, placing the boxes she held on the floor, " this room used to be storage but no one used it so now it's yours! Keep in mind that even if we took everything out and moved things in, it's still quite messy."

She opens the door, letting Spy in first and then you. The room is dusty and smaller than what you were expecting. Pauling turns on the light helping you see as you set your boxes on the bed. The room is painted a neutral beige that compliments the scratched wood flooring. Your bed is twin sized with a pillow, blanket, and a nightstand right beside it. A small lamp and alarm clock is on the small piece of furniture. At the end of the bed is a box that looks like a chest. Looking up you see a work desk pushed into the corner, the same corner that has an odd placed window in it. The window gives you a view of the parking lot, making your new room even more depressing.

"This place is worse than the one I got." Spy grunts as he looks at the exposed light bulb on the ceiling.

Pauling pushes your boxes into the room. "This place will get more comfortable when they start placing personal items in it."

Spy turns to you. "Good luck." He quips before taking his leave.

He pushes past Pauling as she rolls her eyes. "Just ignore him. From the way your cabin looked I have no doubt that you will make this place feel cozy… it just needs a little work."

You stay silent. You're overwhelmed by this stuffy room and the exposed light that's too bright.

"Anyways, because this room doesn't have a closet we provided you with a chest to put your clothes in. Right now your work clothes are in there along with your new weaponry, well half of it. The other half you will need to talk to Demoman about."

You speak for the first time since you've gotten here. "Who's that?"

"One of your teammates. He specializes in explosives. You'll recognize him from his eye patch along with his Scottish accent."

"Okay."

"Alright," Pauling says with a sigh, " that's all I've got for you. I have more work lined up for me so this is where I take my leave."

Your eyes dart to her, giving a desperate look. She can't leave you, not yet, not in a place like this. She's the one comfort you've got here.

She takes a few steps closer to you, recognizing the distress look on your face. "Hey it's going to be alright. Your teammates will take care of you. Plus I'll be back every week to check up on you. Don't worry about it, I've seen what you can do and you're impressive. I have no doubt that you're a great fit for this team. Your social skills just need a little work."

You can't help but shake a bit. Her words were encouraging but not enough to settle your bubbling anxiety.

With a meek okay as your response she smiles her same warm smile at you before heading out.

"Oh wait one more thing," she stops herself before she can officially leave your room, " everyone has a name based on their class, it's a way to keep everything private. When your class was picked you were chosen to be part of the support classes. Your class is called Accomplice. Basically you'll be having to team up with someone when on the battlefield. You can work by yourself but you won't get anywhere with the equipment you are given. That's all I needed to tell you. See you next week!"

Her heels click agents the tile of the halls as she leaves, the echo making it eerie.

You stand there for a bit before closing your door. The room is now quiet except for your shallow breaths and the buzzing bulb. Pauling's sudden info drop keeps your mind running. You take a look around the space and you can't handle how it makes you feel. Before you even unpack you start dusting everything down. Cleaning always calms your nerves even after the most horrendous missions. The light is turned off and replaced with the warm glow of the desk lamp. Opening the window allows the dust to fly out and fresh air to come in. It takes you a good 45 minutes to get everything sorted out.

When you unbox your belongings you make sure to put your more private things in hidden places. Your jurnal is stashed under the nightstand and your plush cat under the pillow. It feels childish but needed, you couldn't trust anyone yet. You make the desk in the corner more presentable. On the table you place your mug on it as well as books.

Next you make your way to the chest at the end of the bed to see what Pauling was talking about. Opening it and Reaching in, you take a hold of some clothing. A cropped tank top, shorts, a belt and combat boots is what you're given. Although, the top looks as if it will be loose on you. The belt has small pouches attached on it. When you peek inside you find bandages, antiseptic, numbing gel, wipes and bandaids. Shorts are your biggest problem. They only go up to your upper thighs. The whole outfit reveals much more of your skin then you've even shown before. Since the outfit shows so much you can only hope it helps you fend off the heat you will most likely feel outside.

After removing the clothing you spot something else in the chest. On the bottom lies an object covered in cloth. you grab it carefully. Gently, you discard the fabric and reveal a machete with a red, rubber handle. It shines in the light, having you truly see how sharp its edge is.

Taking one last look in the chest you spot a letter at the very bottom. You place the giant knife on the floor and grab the note.

" Welcome Accomplice,

We have provided you with gear for your future battles. From your file we have taken into account that New Mexico's weather may be too much so we've made sure your gear will keep you nice and cool. In addition you have been provided a belt. The belt will have pouches and clips to hold equipment.

For your weaponry we have provided a machete and explosives. you are also given immediate medical supplies that will be in your belt's pouches.

We cannot wait to see you in battle. Our company has high hopes for the performance you will show us.

Mann. Co "

As you finish reading a knock is heard at the door. You don't answer. Instead you start folding up your new outfit and place them back in the chest. Another knock comes but is ignored once more. You take your clothing out of a box and fold them as well, placing them below your work clothes.

Your door opens quietly. The only reason you hear it is because the door knob hits the wall. At the entrance a man wearing goggles and overalls stands before you looking surprised.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here since there was no answer." He says with a southern drawl.

You look at the man, remaining silent.

"Er, I'm the Engineer, Engi for short. " He then walks into your room and looks around. "For just getting here you sure made this place look alot better than what it was."

"Everything felt stuffy, plus I hate messes."

He lets out a light chuckle. "Can agree with you on that."

"I'm Accomplice by the way." You say while fiddling with your fingernails.

"Nice to meet ya Accomplice! Great to see a new face on the team."

"Yeah."

"I just wanted to introduce myself. Spy had come by the kitchen saying that you got here a while ago. Also wanted to inform you that I'm making dinner tonight so food will be done in about an hour."

"Alright, thanks Engineer."

"No problem. I'll get out of your hair now. If you need anything I'll be in the kitchen."

"Okay."

He gives you a crooked smile before heading out the way he came, closing the door just as gently as he opened it. You feel bad for not saying much but you've never been one for words. He seemed nice though and his southern accent makes him all the more welcoming. Engineer is nice so maybe it was only Spy with a stick up his ass. You hope it's the case.

You walk back to your desk, grabbing a pen in hopes of getting a journal entry in. You haven't written in it for the past three days, breaking your streak. That's when your ears catch the sound of car doors closing along with laughter just outside your window. Seven men are climbing out of two vehicles and making their way into the base. They are all different shapes and sizes, one is huge while another is skinny as a stick. The stick one looks up and into your window. His gaze lands on you which then causes his face to make an 'o' shape. He points and calls the others, causing more eyes on you.

Chapter Text

You watch as some faces look at yours and others simply continue their trip inside. The eyes looking don't get a good look because of how awkwardly you get out of frame. Feet stumble away from the natural light and into the synthetic one. Your face heats up from the sudden attention, cheeks starting to burn. The men outside yell at one another, some say slang you've never heard before. It isn't long before the voices die down as they enter the base.

Taking deep breaths, you try to get rid of the fire roaring inside you. It's not the fire you feel when you get a beautiful adrenaline rush or the fire you feel when you're full of red-hot rage. It's the cold flame of overwhelming uneasiness. The men you saw looked stronger than you. This was probably why Pauline told you to team up. You couldn't take on most of those men alone, especially the two with impressive height and build.

Taking your mind back to the task at hand. You trudge over to the night stand, bending down to retrieve your journal. Years of information lies within the pages. Past clientele and victims' names are scribbled down along with each quirk they have. Pressing the pen down you start writing. Pauling has a whole page already. Her traits, fidgets, clothing size, everything. It's all placed in an organized manner on paper. You start a new page for Spy. His smoking addiction, physique and rude behavior is all you can think of. His mask hides the mussels that give away one's true thoughts or intentions. His voice is always one tone, always still. It frustrates you that he's so hard to read, but he is a spy. You shouldn't expect him to just hand over information like others do. Last was the Engineer. You don't have much on him, just learning his name and all.

Your journal is something you've always kept close to you. At first it was just used to talk about what people did or didn't like. It made it easier to talk with another person when you knew what they were interested in. The first day you used it for malicious intent was also the last day you used it for small talk. A little hobby turned into a necessity for crime.

You finish the profiles before thinking about getting a quick nap in before dinner. Having not slept for over 72 hours hits you like a train. However, you're interrupted by shouting from down the hall.

"You're not telling them, you'll scare them," Says a deep, gruff voice. You catch a Russian accent hitting your ears as the voice speaks.

Another voice pipes up but is drastically different from the one before. This one has an accent as well but you can't place it.

"I won't! Plus my room is right across, mise as well let them know who I am."

"Do as you wish. But I will stand beside you. Make sure you don't do anything stupid."

Footsteps become louder as they walk to the end of the walkway.

A rush of knocks are heard before your door opens. A bang sounds as the door hits the wall. The sudden intrusion surprises you despite the warning steps that you made out seconds ago. You're seated on your bed, journal and pen still in hand, as a man walks in. It's the same one who pointed at you from outside, this time getting a better look at him. He wears a cap upon his head along with a red tank top and some kind of capris. He has dog tags hanging from his neck that move with him as he looks around your room.
When he's done ogling his gaze fixes on you.

"Your room kinda looks like shit," He states.

"Scout!" Yells the large mass behind him. He doesn't enter your room, instead staying outside, glaring at the smaller man.

"What, I'm being honest!"

"Honestly isn't always needed, especially from you."

As the two bicker you slip your journal back into its hide when they aren't watching. You look back at the two and watch how they interact with one another. The skinnier one, Scout, holds himself high. Confidence radiates off of him even when he's being scolded. The bigger man is different however. He's more relaxed and has the same aura as a parent. When he talks to Scout his face shows little but the way his voice changes pitches makes up for that fact. After you're done studying the two you interrupt them.

"Do you, uh, need something?" Uncertainty is laced in your words.

"Dinner is ready. Also, me and Scout wanted to greet you," The Russian speaks.

Scout nods his head while crossing his arms and eyes back on you. "Since I'm the best around here I've decided to personally invite you to dinner."

"Oh, okay." You say.

"No need to be so greatful, really it's the least I can do."

"Alright."

Your short response makes Scout look at you in suspicion. He must have expected a bigger reaction out of you.

"Ignore small man, he is full of himself. I am Heavy. Nice to meet you." The man still outside your door says. Scout lets out a small scoff at his remark.

"Yeah, yeah, introductions are done. So now I will, like the great team member I am, walk you to the kitchen for dinner," blabs Scout.

You stand from your bed and gesture for Scout to exit the room. "Sure lead the way."

"No prob-blem-o!" Scout leaves your room and turns down the hall, his pace is fast as he struts. He doesn't even notice that you're still in your room, not following him.

Heavy rolls his eyes before asking you to walk with him.

"Little man is oblivious, sometimes even In battle."

You watch the floor like it's the most enchanting thing. "That can't be good for you guys."

"No. With your help maybe it will be fixed."

"Huh?" Eyes now look up to him in wonder. "You know about my class?"

Heavy nods before responding. "Pauling told us about your arrival. Said you are called Accomplice. Said you buddy up with offensive and defensive groups."

"I heard her say something about informing you guys. Glad to know I don't have to fully introduce myself to everyone."

"Yes, it is very convenient."

The two of you arrive outside the kitchen door. Chatter is heard from the room along with glasses hitting another hard surface.

"Are you ready to meet the team?" Heavy asked. You could tell he was worried, his voice reeked of it, you had no idea why.

You shrug your shoulders. "Have to meet them sooner or later."

Heavy opens the door, letting himself in and leaving room for you to squeeze by. The room is full with a cast of members. One is dressed in military attire while another portrays a doctor of sorts. More outfits are worn among the crowd making it look as if you've walked into a costume party. Scout stands ahead of you, arguing with two others.

"I told you," groans Scout with annoyance. "They were right behind me! They said they would follow."

"And it looks like they did," Points out one of the figures Scout is talking to, his Australian accent makes his words exaggerated. He's wearing a cowboy hat and sunglasses indoors. The Australian stares at you as if he sees something you don't.

Scout turns around, looking at you and Heavy. "See I told ya! They were following me this whole time, I was just too fast."

The Australian man is about to say something but stops when another beats him to it. They are supporting what looks to be a rubber suit a size too big. They mumble something out but cannot be understood due to the gas mask they wear. However, the Australian must have been able to translate by the way he nods his head and makes a comment.

"Pyros right, introductions can be made during dinner. The faster we get this done the faster I get back to me van."

Scout gives the cowboy a hurt look. "You're always in there, spending time with me won't hurt ya, you know!"

"It would actually."

Before anymore can be said Engineer announces that dinner is ready making everyone beeline to the table.

Eyes watch your frame as you find a chair. You take the seat open on the left of Engineer. Food is splayed out in front of you. The meal looks to be casserole, potatoes and gravy with some dinner rolls. Before you could even ask to eat, others were already digging in. Some grab food by bare hands instead of the provided utilities, in fact the man with an eye patch just put his hand in the potatoes. He looks exactly like Demoman, the one Pauling told you about. You sit back and wait for a clearing in the mess of limbs and plastic before you grab anything. Engineer seems to notice this because right after he fills his plate he grabs your and fills it as well.

"Oh, you don't need to," You squeak.

"Trust me, darling, there's going to be nothing left if you wait for these guys."

Engineer places your plate, now holding his southern dish, in front of you.

"Thanks, Engineer."

The food tasted heavenly. The Midwest always had its flavors and spices but when your taste buds hit the golden coated casserole your whole world changed. Flavors melt on your tongue while you become lost in the new experience. As you chew away conversation is made around you. You catch some talking about weapons while another group whispers about another subject that seems to be about something inappropriate. Most don't acknowledge you, too engrossed into their meals or coverations to care about the stranger eating with them. It isn't until you're halfway done with supper that someone talks to you.

"So, Pauling told us about ya class but what do ye know?"

It takes you a while to realize that the man is talking to you. Your face is stuffed full of buttered potatoes as you glance at him. He's the one with the eye patch and now crumbs also decorate his face.

The table becomes quiet as all wait for you to answer. You swallow your food quickly before you respond. "I'm called the Accomplice. I'm a support class. Apparently I team up with others as a buff, I guess. Uh, I have some medical equipment and a machete. So, yeah."

Voices from around the table grumble. You observe the mouth of the cowboy from before. Reading his lips is easy. He tells Scout how he's uneasy about the fact you don't carry a gun or any long range weapons. Scout agrees with him saying that you'll probably be the first to respond tomorrow. The two side-eye you after you look away.

"Is that so?" Demoman squinted his eyes in a suspicious manner, "Didn't think we needed anymore of em support classes."

From beside you Engineer speaks up. "Well with our recent performance maybe we do need an extra hand."

The table becomes quiet once again but this time it feels dreary, as if the topic was forbidden. Scout breaks this silence when his fork scrapes against his plate. This act earned a smack on the back of his head from Spy.

A German man with glasses at the other end of the table speaks up. He's wearing a doctor's coat and some rubber gloves. His tall figure looms over most. "Do you have a medical degree?"

"No," you say, a little embarrassed. "However, I was in school for about three months before I left. I was studying to be a nurse."

The man nods his head in acknowledgement. He's obviously found the information intriguing. His face contorts into one that's deep in thought.

"Err. How about we all introduce ourselves to the new member," Engineer tries to tear down the tension by turning his body towards you and introducing himself once again. He lists his basic information along with a fun fact. His fun fact became less fun when he then started rambling about some sort of project he was working on. Luckily for you, the Engineer is cut off from his rant when the man beside you yells in your ear.

Spit is sprayed onto your face as he speaks. He mentions something about rocket launchers and his name being Soldier. Unfortunately, you don't catch much of what he's saying because of how loud the ringing in your ear is. When Soldier finished his speech the rest went around and spoke about their class. Some don't speak much but you can tell your team comes from all around the world. Different accents and dialects are used when one speaks. One member that sticks out to you is the team's Pyro. They are a complete mystery when it comes to looks and speech. Pyro mumbles something out but most look confused while only a few acknowledge what is being said. When all is done the atmosphere seems to have lightened a bit making you a little more comfortable. Dinner continues on to its solemn end as plates become empty.

Soldier is the first to stand up and toss his dishes into the sink. He wishes everyone a "True American sleep" before retiring to his room. The rest follow through until it's just you and the Medic. You've always been a slow eater but when comparing yourself to these mercenaries you feel like you take hours to finish a meal. Medic gently sets down the glassware as you take your final bite. You stand up once you are done but freeze when Medic calls your name.

"Accomplice, when you're done with that will you accompany me to my office?"

You pause before looking at the German. He is more intimidating now that it's just the two of you. "Um, why?"

"For a check up of course!" Medic voices happily. "We have to make sure you're ready for battle, ja? Plus Pauling and yourself may have given the team some information but I'm still in the dark in some areas."

"Yeah, I guess. If that's all you need then I can do that."

"Wunderbar! I'll wait at the door when you're done. Most get lost in this place their first few weeks so I'll lead the way," Medic then walks to the kitchen's entrance and waits for you. You hurriedly put your things away, making your way towards the man after dishes clink together.

He takes you down to his office and although the walk is short it feels like forever. Everything is put into slow motion as you start your internal monologue. You never like the doctors. Not since what happened with your friend. The mess was gruesome and all the people grabbing at you made you nauseous. You haven't seen a medical profession since. Medic seems nice and acts like he cares, perhaps you're just biased.

"Here we are!" Medic exclaims. He stops at the door with the sign on it from before, except now it says 'the doctor is in!' with a smiling face that's holding a bone saw. It makes you uneasy.

"Well what are you waiting for, hurry in!" Medic ushers you inside in a hasty fashion.

You trip over your own feet as you're invited into the clean office that reeks of disinfectant. Eyes scan around the space. It appears to be your average clinic like setting if you ignore the random pictures that are pasted on the walls. Farther beyond the room you spot another door that has a tinted window. The door has a sign that reads 'Office'.

Medic tells you to hop onto the bed in the center of the room for the check up. A dim light rests above the cot making the scene ominous. Hesitantly, you obey Medic's demand. Shaky legs walk their way to the furniture. You start to rethink your decisions once you see the same bone saw from the sign outside, covered in blood, laying on a table right by the bed.

Chapter Text

"What is that?" The sweat on your brow is now visible.

Medic glances at you. His hair is messy and eye bags show on his face. However, One wouldn't even assume he was exhausted due to how expressive he is. He's messing with some papers on a counter across the room. The counter is an organized mess of pens, papers and thick books. Titles of books are written in German making its contents unknown to you.

"My bonesaw," he quizzes while looking at the side table, "Oh, that's not for you, unfortunately," his voice drops when he talks.

Medic starts walking towards you. A clipboard holding about four papers is within his hold along with a pen. "That was for my last patient. I haven't had the chance to clean up. No one misses the Engineer's cooking you know."

You stand there dumbfounded. It's unnerving how the man before you admitted to using a bonesaw on another as if it were nothing. Bonesaws were outdated, at least they were the last time you checked. You can't imagine this guy was up to medical code. The diagram of a monkey fused with a bird in the corner proved that.

Medic looks over you and then at the picture that has caught your eye. "What's wrong?"

You look up at his tall figure. "Nothing, just thinking," You respond, finally take a seat on top of the bed. As you sink into the cushioning your body slouches. Medic pulls a stool out and brings it over. When he sits down his posture is confident and tall, the exact opposite of yours.

The doctor glaces down at the clipboard before looking at you. His eyebrows are furrowed together, his face displaying a look of confusion. "Do you think a lot often?"

"Um, sure?"

"Fascinating!" He gasps.

He scrawled something onto the clipboard. You can't see what he's writing but the sound of fast sketches puts you on edge. You start to pick at your fingers. Digging into your skin makes small drops of blood leak out. Medic stops writing but only for a few seconds. He watches as your hands pick and peel at one another. This makes him scribble more sentences down onto paper. You feel yourself cave in. The feeling of a lab rat is becoming too familiar. If Medic ever realized how you became more anxious he never said anything about it. He simply wrote with a smile on his face as if he had discovered something no one else had before.

It isn't till about two minutes of nonstop scribbling later that Medic breaks the silence by telling you about a questionnaire that needs to be filled out. He's still writing but the man seems to not mind multitasking.

"Just simple knowledge you should know about yourself. You didn't have much on your chart so hopefully some things will be brought to light." He informs.

Medic starts to interrogate you and luckily you know most answers. Questions like "what's your blood type?" or "Any allergies?" were answered with ease. All responses were provided in a short amount of time and slowly you were warming up to the doctor. His German pronunciation made it a little hard to understand but you got the gist of it. Whenever you answered one of his questions he would make a comment about how perfect your body's immune system is or that you could probably withstand a beating from the team's Scout. You were never sure if these were complements or just simple observations. Eventually the questions dwindled and only the sound of pages being flipped around were heard. Medic looked over all the sheets one last time before confirming that everything looked good.

Medic stands up and retreats back to the same place he retrieved his papers from. Assuming that this was the end of the check up, you start to take your leave from the medical wing. A single thanks is given before Medic call out to you, stopping you in your tracks.

"We still have lots to do! The questionnaire was just the beginning!" A smile takes room on his face as he speaks.

You turn around, looking Medic in the face. Whatever he had planned must be pretty exciting by the way his grin gets wider. Before walking back to the cot you glance at the exit, hesitant on following the doctor's orders. Your mind starts to wonder at what else the check up has in store for you.

"Sorry, I just thought…" Words trail off when returning to the bed, eyes watching Medic move from one place to another. He practically skips around the room while retrieving what he needs.

The doctor grabs gloves despite already wearing some and a small red metal box. He comes back to your position before laying everything out on the table by your side. He opens the box slowly as if it's sacred.

"Why do you need all that?" You ask as Medic displays the box's content. Medical equipment is revealed, the same equipment one would see during surgery.

"For your new heart transplant!" He states.

"What?" You exclaim. "No way, are you crazy?"

Medic gives you a saddened look. "This needs to be done. You can't compete in battle without this surgery."

You stare at him in shock. Pauling never told you any of this.

"Whether you want the surgery or not it has to be done, Administrator's orders. I'm not one to push boundaries but when it comes to that verdammt woman I really have no choice," Says Medic before taking a syringe out of his pocket.

The doctor holds it up before quickly bringing it back down, aiming it at you. Adrenaline quickly shoots through your body as you spot the shine of the sharp metal tip coming at you. Quickly you hop off the bed once more but not quick enough. A sharp pain courses through your body as the needle strikes the back of your neck. Your legs buckle from beneath you. Hands try to reach out in front of yourself but you aren't able to move them. Before you can fall to the ground Medic catches you in his arm and lifts you up effortlessly. He lays you down gently on the bed while saying something. Your own blood flow is all you can hear for a few seconds.

The man stands over you, he becomes more scary now that you're laying down. He puts surgical gloves over his red ones when he talks to you again. "No need to be worried. You get the needed transplant and I get to learn more, isn't it wunderbar!" His face is gleaming now even though he casted sympathy at you moments ago. The smile he has on reminds you of a child opening presents.

A grunt sounds as you try to roll your body off the bed. It's futile. Your body becomes numb as the effects of the drug take over. Yelling out also doesn't work. When you open your mouth you aren't able to speak as if someone has tampered with your voice box. Medics figure now holds a scalpel, cutting away at your shirt. The tank top you once wore is discarded as the man now starts to cut your skin.

Lights become dimmer and all becomes quiet as you fall into a deep slumber. As hard as you try, you're not able to fight sleep's hold. You misjudged the Medic. You should have never let your guard down, not after last time.

You're gasping for air. Lungs expand as far as they can as you run though the hospital begging for help. Blood drips down your hands as your friend bleeds out and onto you. It's not long till you catch the attention of doctors. Soon enough everyone is yelling at one another. Some ask you questions but you aren't able to answer, you're too focused on how the staff takes your friend away and places them onto a stretcher. Hands grab onto you, their touches like bugs on your skin. Noises are drowned out as you are consumed by your mind. You gasp for air as if someone is holding you underwater. Grounding techniques do nothing. The only thing you can focus on is the crimson trail your friend leaves behind as they are pushed down a long hallway.

Chapter Text

The sound of a distant alarm wakes you from your slumber. Your eyes blink twice before they adjust to the natural light that hits your face from a window. It takes a bit but you soon realize that you're still lying down on a bed. As you start to become more aware a groan bubbles from your throat from the uncomfortable tension in your chest. Slowly rising from the bed, hands come up to touch your upper body. Memories of Medic's face looming over you as he holds a blade sends shivers down your spine. You remember Medic cutting into you and that smile. That twisted smile.

Dread washes over you but it quickly turns into anger. Unbelievable. You thought you could trust him. You thought he was different but he's just like every other doctor out there.

Hugging yourself, you look around the room and it's obvious you're in some kind of patient wing. A red curtain hangs just a few feet away, blocking the sight of another area. White tiles lay on the floor and even whiter walls stand around you. There's an infusion pump next to the bed that carries a small clear tube that leads into your arm. The water bag it holds is almost empty. You must have been here for a while.

Medic most likely set you here after the unexpected surgery. That means he is probably still around. You make the choice of leaving before you can see him again. The memory of his face alone makes your stomach turn.

You get out of bed but stop halfway once you hear footsteps nearing your location. The steps are strong ones that click with purpose. As they get closer your own feet hit the tile as well, only yours are silent. Quietly, you pull out the I.V in your arm half haphazardly. Grabbing the infusion pump right after and getting ready to swing. As soon as the curtain is pulled by an unknown force you strike. A ruff grunt is heard from your victim, the Medic.

"Thats for cutting me open you sick fuck!" You roar out before taking another swing at the man.

Medic has a hazed look but is quick to recover. Even so, he barely dodges the second blow. He puts his hands up in an 'I surrender' signal. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I was just following orders."

Hands clench the medical pump as you glare at the German. He may have been taking orders but you can tell he enjoyed whatever he did to you. That smile he put on told you so. Betrayal is all you feel when looking at him. Medic catches this look and speaks up again.

"Let's just calm down, ja?" He consoles. "Just take a seat and I'll explain."

You furrow your eyebrows, holding your weapon tighter. "Explain what? That you drugged me, cut my tank open and then did your sadistic experiment on me!"

"What, no!" Medic spouted. "Well half of it is true. But the procedure isn't an experiment, at least not anymore," the doctor now moves his hands as he talks. "Everyone on the team has had this surgery. It's necessary for battle if you wish to keep going. Plus, from what I've recorded, it also improves physical development outside of battle."

Your stance becomes less defensive and more aggravated. "I don't care!" You grit. "Do you know nothing about human boundaries or space? Does it mean nothing to you?"

"Of course it does!" Medic defends.

"Bullshit!" You lose your composure. The stress inside you becomes overwhelming. Your hands release the metal bar, allowing it to fall to the floor. Hands grab your head and tug at your hair as you stumble back. "God, I'm living a fucking nightmare all over again."

Medic slowly approaches you like you're a scared animal. He puts his hands on your shoulders with just enough pressure to let you know he's talking to you. "Listen, I know that it must have been terrifying for you, I understand that, however I need you to calm down."

He keeps talking but you ignore him in favor of finding your bearings. You start by taking deep breaths in and out. Next you list the objects in the room in your head, avoiding him obviously.

Medic pats your shoulder with light taps from his index fingers. "Very good," he reassures.

"Shut up," you hiss while relieving the grip on your hair.

The man listens, staying silent while you take in your surroundings. You rename the equipment once more around you and the color of said items.

It takes another minute before you finally collect yourself. "You said everyone has gotten the surgery?"

Medic removes himself from you. "Yes, of course. Each one has been in your position before and they all are fine, no?"

"I guess," your voice shakes, standing up straight but never looking up at the man. "But how come I don't have a scar on my chest. I remember being cut open and…"

"Ah, that's the work of my medigun. A creation of my own that increases cell growth making your body heal at an impressive rate."

"Um, okay," You utter, still working on setting your nerves.

Medic lets out a pleased hum. "I'm glad we got that figured out. Now what I originally came here to do was wake you up and bring you to breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day after all. That is unless Scout or Soldier is cooking."

You try to keep up with the change of mood while still holding a grudge against the German. "Sure."

"Before we leave I'll go grab you something to wear."

Remembering your shirtless makes your face flush. You just hit a man and had a panic attack shirtless. Embarrassment now joins in with the muddle of emotions you feel.

Medic returns with a worn shirt that has the name 'Mundy' written on the tag. It doesn't really fit you but you don't complain, just wanting to leave this traumatic room. He then, just like yesterday, guides you throughout the building. You walk behind him, a safe distance between the two of you. The aroma of pancakes swirls in the halls. The smell makes your sour mood slightly better.

When you enter the kitchen Engineer is the first to be seen. The man stands near the stove humming an unknown tune. He flips pancakes effortlessly in his pajamas. Next to him is Sniper. The Australian is standing by the coffee kettle, dressed in the same attire as yesterday, although his iconic hat and sunglasses are missing. He's easier to analyze now that nothing is blocking your view of his face. He has a stern, grumpy look on as he stares into the heating kettle.

Medic makes his way to Engineer while you take the other route. You walk up to the coffee pot. Sniper didn't acknowledge you and you appreciate that.

You try not to bother Sniper too much when your arms reach up to open the cupboards, searching for a mug. As each one is thrown wide the only things found are plates, bowls and a broken toaster that has a sticky note. It says 'fix me' with a poor drawing of a sad toaster. Farther down on the toaster is another note that says 'you broke it, Scout. I'm not fixing it'.

Ignoring the sticky notes, you continue your search. You open two more cupboards before you let out a defeated huff.

"Last cupboard on your left," Sniper grumbles.

Your head snaps to the Australian. "Huh?"

"The mugs. They're to your left."

Moving to the very left you open the cupboard to reveal mugs of all shapes and sizes. All have unique designs and some have names on them. You reach in and pick out one that you like. It has a small chip on its rim but it's easy to miss.

While you adore the design you spot Sniper looking you up and down from the corner of your eye. "Nice shirt," he snorts.

"Uh, Thanks," you mumble while wrapping your hands around the cup. When you think about it, the shirt is the same size Sniper would wear. The fabric looks to be the same as his current shirt as well. You could assume his name must be Mundy then, something to keep in mind when writing his profile.

Sniper nods his head. He goes back to ignoring you, still waiting for the kettle to beep. The silence between the two of you is comfortable. Two introverts side by side waiting for the only thing that will get them through the day.

Battle day.

You still have no idea what the goal is or who you're up against. No one's filled you in. Your teammates all looked fine so the battle couldn't be too gruesome. There had to be rules about no critical blows or something along those lines. But then why the need for explosives or why do the guys need guns? It would risk so much for the participants. There's definitely something big you're missing. Although, Medic did tell you about his medigun, how it has the ability to heal at an incredible rate. Perhaps that has a role in all of this.

The coffee machine finally lets out a light buzz that drags you out of your thought process. Sniper is the first to grab a hold of the jug and pour the boiling liquid into his mug. The cup he has is bigger than your average cup. It's a dark brown, the same color as the inside of a Black Walnut tree, and has no words on it. Overall it's pretty bland. He brings the mug up to his lips before drinking the coffee right away despite how hot it is. You wince as you watch him chug, his adam's apple moving up and down. As he drinks you take the chance to steal some for yourself, waiting patiently for your share to cool down.

Hanging your head, you see yourself in the dark mirror. Your image is contorted but you can still make out some features. Hair is spewed in all angles and your face droops. You frown at the sorrowful reflection. Before you can think anymore about your looks Sniper snatches the kettle for more coffee. Deciding to leave the coffee addict be, you make way to the dining table.

Medic and Engineer continue to rabble on as you take the same seat you did last night. Sipping from your coffee, you stare at the two. From reading their lips you find that their current topic seems to be about today's battle. Engineer talks about something called a sensory he's been working on. Medic buts in and says something. You can't translate what he's saying however. His mouth moves in a way you aren't familiar with. Medic then stops talking and looks at you. Engineer follows his gaze and gives an awkward smile, an uncomfortable look plastered on his face. They then both turn away, lips hidden. It's obvious they are talking about you. You don't mind. You're used to it.

Slow sips of coffee are taken while you wait for breakfast. Engineer already has three stacks of ten pancakes done. He must have gotten up extra early to make them. Your stomach lets out a small growl that is soon joined by Scout yelling down the hall about how hungry he is. The youngest of the group enters the kitchen, slamming the door open with the kick of his leg.

Engineer almost drops a pancake due to the loud noise. "Scout! Use yer hands, you don't live in a barn!" He swings his spatula around while he yells, almost hitting Medic.

Scout makes his way towards the table, sitting across from your form. "Hey, is breakfast ready?" He asks you beaming, completely dismissing the Texan's scolding.

You shrug your shoulders at Scout's question. The way the youngest member has such a flamboyant reminds you of your friend. Little care and a voice that booms throughout any room. It slightly eases your nerves.

Engineer grumbles before politely pushing past Medic to bring one stack of pancakes to Scout and you. When the sweet treat is placed Medic goes to grab some plates. You sit soundlessly unlike Scout who is double fisting pancakes into his mouth. Once again Engineer is giving Scout a disappointed look. Plates are handed out and simple thanks are given to the doctor before he too sits down. It's only Scout, Engineer, Medic and yourself who's eating. Sniper is still near the coffee pot, finishing the last of the coffee. Everyone else must still be asleep.

You take slow bites before Scout Interrupts you.

"So, how was your surgery?" He smirks.

Chewing for a bit longer you contemplate what to say. The experience was an absolute nightmare and just thinking about it makes you stiffen. Scout doesn't see this but Engineer does. He's about to change the topic but you respond first.

You start your story from the beginning "It was pretty-"

"Yeah my head hurt like hell when I woke up. Man I was so out of it Medic had to shake me awake," Scout recalls. "Did he wake you up?"

It takes you a while to process what he said. He talked so fast that his words were jumbled together. Getting over the shock you start over. "Actually he-"

"I mean he probably did," Scout Interrupts once more. "Medic here isn't a good alarm though, let me tell you," his face becomes more smug as he keeps talking.

Although you're intrigued by what he ment your also frustrated he won't let you get out more than five words. Once he's done talking, looking at you for an answer. You grip your mug harshly, an annoyed glint in your eye.

"I can agr-"

"Scout screamed when I woke him up." Medic resorts with a proud smirk.

This accusation starts an argument between the two. Each bicker about the past event. The voices become louder once Engineer joins in. He's trying to be the peacemaker but the gentle tone he displayed does little. You decided to take your leave before you get a headache. Plus it's not like they wanted to hear about what you had to say. Getting out of your seat unseen, then settling the dishes into the sink, you leave the room.

Deciding the best course of action is getting ready for the day you head towards your room. It takes you a while to find your sense of direction but eventually you find the residential hall.

You slip inside your room, trying not to wake anyone in the process. The room is in the same state you left it last night. Lamp still on and window wide open. You make your way to the chest, opening it up to reveal the contents inside. You take out your work clothes and gear then set them on the floor. Next you strip down out of the stolen shirt, pants and undergarment. Taking the shirt in your hands you think about returning it. Although, Sniper didn't really care for it. At least you think he didn't, and you're one to find a use for everything. You toss the shirt under your bed before changing into your work attire. Once you're done you can admit that you do feel much cooler. The air brushes your skin in gentle touches causing you to let out a small sigh.

However, you can't help but feel like a fraud. As if you're playing dress up. At some point you have to admit that you are indeed weaker than all of these men and you haven't even seen much of what they can do. Each one of them is built to kill, it's painfully obvious by the way they act, talk, look. When you're out in the field how can they be so sure you're going to be okay?

You pull down your crop top, the fabric's texture slowly bringing you back into reality. You start taking deep breaths for the second time today. You breathe in through your nose and let the hot air leave your mouth. Just like your friend taught you. Half way through your third breath your door slams open.

"There you are! Woah!"

Your head snaps over to the surprise guests who forcefully entered. It's Scout. Heat rises to his face as he takes in your appearance. You can't help but also form a small blush. The grip on your top tightens as Scout remains still.

"People usually knock," you start.

"Is that your work outfit or do you just dress in skimpy clothes?" Scout says while leaning on your door frame, dismissing your complaint. People on this team seem to do that alot.

"No. Mann Co. or whatever assigned this to me. I have to wear it," you spit. It would be obvious to anyone that even though the outfit provided you to stay cool you hated how much it revealed. Even during the humid summers you've endured at your cabin, you never showed this much skin.

"Wow, really? I mean I couldn't pull that off but you totally look great in it. I can see why she picked it out."

"What do you come here for?" You sigh with an eyebrow twitch.

"Oh, right," Scout then stands up straight. "Demoman said he had something for you last night. He said something about grenades and how you need them. I honestly zoned out halfway through his little spiel."

"Right. I was supposed to see him yesterday but then I had that check-up."

"Well no worries now, pally. Your best bud will lead you two doors down on the left to his room."

"I don't need an escort. Like you said 'it's two doors down on the left'. Also you're not my best bud," you push past Scout and walk down the hall, following Scout's instructions to Demoman's room.

"Hey wait!" Scout trails after you. "What do you mean we're not friends. I totally showed you how to get to the kitchen! That has to count for something!"

You arrive at your destination, firmly knocking on the door with a spikey bomb logo on it. "You didn't even do that, Heavy did. You walked so fast and didn't even turn around to see if I was following."

"It's not my fault you're slow!"

"Sure, whatever," you scoff, knock again but more rapidly on the door.

Scout gives you a disappointed frown. You return it with a neutral gaze. A feeling of pity overcomes you when you look at his puppy dog eyes but it's quickly pushed aside when a Scottish voice roars from the room ahead of you.

"Leave me alone, Soldier! I still got another thirteen minutes before the announcement!"

"It's me, Accomplice," you call out.

"And me!" Scout gleams.

Groans are heard along with a creaking of a bed. It takes a while but soon the door opens and Demoman reveals himself. He has the same appearance as you, a total mess. Although, he has an obvious hangover while you just had a life changing procedure.

"Why's Scout with ya?" the man slurred.

You're about to answer him but Scout does it for you. "We came to grab those explosives you were talking about."

"Ay, come on then but don't touch anything."

You and Scout walk into the room. The private space is in a disarray. Beer bottles are tossed around the room along with clothes. His room is bigger than yours but that means bigger clutter. The sight makes you grimace.

"Here ya are," Demoman says while grabbing a medium sized wooden cargo box. He carries it into view and sets it down by your feet. Next Demoman opens the create. The smell of gunpowder spreads inside the room. Grenades are lined up neatly with wooden chips underneath to cushion the delicate pieces. "They're beautiful aren't they?" he whispers as if he will wake them.

You stare at the forest green weaponry in puzzlement. Their checkered pattern stands out on their metal shell. You've never used one before. They look easy enough to figure out but in battle you'd rather not play the guessing game. "Sure. Uh, how do I use them?"

"You're kidding." Demoman gawks. Scout lets out a sniffled laugh at your ignorance.

You grab one from the crate. "No, I'm not," you faltered, rolling the small explosive in your hand.

"Here," Scout shoves himself besides you and takes hold of the grenade in your grasp. "All you do is pull this thing," he then points at a pin before pulling it out, "and then you wait a few sec-"

Demoman's eyes widened. "Are you fucking delusional!?" He yells before snatching the grande from Scout and throwing it out the open window in his room. An explosion is then followed by the action.

You turn to Scout with a bewildered expression.

Scout rubs the back of his neck and bites his lip. "Woops."

Demoman glares at Scout who shyly avoids his harsh gaze.

You stand there awkwardly watching the way Demoman looks like he wants to strangle Scout. You then focus on the recent explosion, eternally facepalming at what just occurred. These people are murderous idiots and yet they still could take you out. How pathetic.

You reach for the rest of the explosives. Counting them you find that you've been provided with five but Scout blew one up so now you only have four. You hook them onto your belt. "I think I get the point. Thanks, Demoman."

"Of course. Also I don't mean to pry but what's with the get up?"

"Mann Co. makes them wear it," Scout explains.

Demoman looks you up and down. "Really?"

You pick at your fingers at man's reaction. "I'm gonna head out now. Thanks again," waving your hand you leave with an awkward goodbye.

Demoman says his farewell as well as telling Scout to leave but more aggressively. Scout listens and leaves with little back talk. You decide to walk back to the kitchen and wait for battle. Scout runs after you. You're confused on why he's so insistent on following you around. Maybe he's just lonely and you're the one who's giving him attention, even if it's very little. You don't bother asking him.

Scout skips besides you. "Well now that you're all set we should probably go to respawn."

You tilt your head. "Where's that?"

"I'll show ya!" Scout then grabs your hand to turn you around in the opposite direction. He lets go once you're facing the right way. "Did no one give you a tour?" He asks.

You readjust yourself from the sudden tug. "Not really. I know where the main areas are though. Like the Medic's office, the kitchen and where everyone sleeps."

Scout rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you got the boring places down but there's a lot more around here."

"Like what?"

"Well there's the gym and the living room. We have movie night there each Sunday. I like to play cowboy movies but no one else likes them and I have no idea why! It's the perfect amount of action and romance and yet everyone complains!" He rants and you let him. He talks about the topic like it's the most Important thing in the world. It's like he was never able to express how he felt and on a team of all men you can see them just shutting the poor guy down. So you listen to him while he guides you to respawn.

As you're walking a booming voice echoes through the halls. "Battle in ten minutes. Get ready."

You flitch from the unexpected voice of an old woman. She sounded pissed. "What the hell?"

"That's just the Administrator," Scout clarified. "Ya know, the one making you wear that crop top."

"She runs Mann Co.?" You ask.

"Nah, but she sends the stuff from there to here. Most of the weapons and gear are from Mann Co. The Administrator just tells them what to ship over. But overall the old hag is in charge of all of this," Scout says while waving both his arms around.

So this was the woman that found you. She picked you to be here. To take you away from your home and make you live with nine men. "God I hate her," you sneer.

"You and everyone else, pally," Scout nudges your side.

You shove him lightly and he lets out a chuckle. A smile tries to creep on your face but you resist. Scout is tolerable to be around but you can't lose your guard around him. Medic taught you that lesson.

After a bit more walking Scout stops at two large double doors. He places his hands on his hips then looks at you with a smile. "Here we are!"

Chapter Text

Scout opens the double doors letting himself and you through. Once inside you gape at the scenery. A wide open room is laid out in front of you with most of your team members inside, Spy missing from the pack. The fact makes you suspicious. Spy doesn't seem like the one to be late.

You push the observation aside, deciding to inspect the room more. Some members stand by large red lockers that lean against the concrete wall that holds the place up. Others like Heavy and Medic settle themselves near huge shutter doors that are painted a deep crimson. Above you is a large contraption that hangs in the center of the ceiling. It has wires hanging from it and a big red light in the middle. When you squint close enough the light seems to glitter.

You walk inside the room examining every detail. Your feet scrape against the rough flooring that is built from un-sanded wood. When combined with the rock walls the room creates an earthy scent, enveloping you with its aroma. You've always been a sucker for nature and all things that came with it.

As you take in your surroundings Scout runs ahead of you to mingle with the other men. "Hey, Snipes!" He calls before leaving you for the Australian man who is currently opening his locker with a bored look.

You stand in the middle of the room, completely lost without your tour guide. You think about talking with the others to get some kind of information, but you wouldn't even know what to talk about for them to open up to you. Tugging on your hair, you wait anxiously for someone or something to happen.

Luckily something does. A hand pats itself on your shoulder making you snap your head around to see Engineer. The Texan has changed out of his pajamas and now wears the same overalls he was wearing yesterday. He has a hard hat on his head along with a pair of goggles that sticks to his eyes. Along with his gear his appearance is also accompanied with the same warm smile.

Engineer lets go once you face him. "Glad to see you found your way."

"Scout led me here," you explain in a monotone voice.

Engineer's smile brightens. "He seems to really like you," he reckoned. "He was down in the dumps but ever since you came along he's been back to his energetic self."

You take in the information with an intrigued face. As much as you want to be suspicious of Scout for his sudden attraction for you, you can't. It's been so long since someone talked to you in such a comfortable way like he does that you can't help but welcome it. However, You still decided to question the Engineer further. "Why's that?"

"Err, well," The southerner gives an uncertain wince. "I'm not sure entirely but apparently Scout's been upset because he thinks he's treated like a kid."

"How come?"

"Because he acts like one!" Engineer laughs.

"I see," you say while resting your chin in-between your thumb and index finger. So to Scout you're just a shoulder to lean on, not someone he actually felt comfortable with. The conclusion makes your heart sink a little.

Engineer watches the gears in your head turn and becomes quick to push the topic aside. "That's just old news though. How about we talk about today's battle, It's your first one after all."

Your eyes are quick to shoot up at him. Right, you still had no idea what you are supposed to be doing out there. "Yeah it is. Can you fill me in on what's going to happen."

Engineer gives you a concerned look. "Huh? No one told you anything?"

You cross your arms while shaking your head.

"Huh, now that's a problem isn't it?"

"What can you tell me? Ya know, before I go out there." Your head jerks over to the shutters.

"Well, you got an earpiece right?"

You tilt your head to the side. "No? What's that?"

It's silent for a bit. Engineer's face turns from confused to concerned and then to flat out bewilderment. "It's a radio receiver that's small enough to be placed in your ear. There's also a microphone placed inside as well so one can both talk and listen to others who also have an earpiece."

You squint your eyes, skeptical that an object like that even exists. "That's a thing?" Sure you mostly isolated yourself from others but even during your jobs none have even mentioned such a thing. Engineer talks about the device like it's something everybody knows about. Maybe you did spend too much time cooped up in your cabin. You're starting to figure out you don't know much compared to your team.

"Err, yeah. Surprised you haven't heard about it before."

"I don't get out much," you dismiss, a little embarrassed by your lack of knowledge.

"That's alright. I think I have an extra one in my locker," Engineer points his finger towards the row of red lockers that Sniper and Scout stand by. Both are digging inside the metal boxes while talking to one another, although Scout does most of that. "Just follow me. I can show you your locker as well."

The Southern brings you to his locker and opens it up. You peek inside and view an organized space. A toolbox lays itself on the bottom and a shelf hangs from above. On the shelf is what looks to be a roll of blueprints along with a small bobblehead figurine. You're unavailable to identify who it's supposed to be. Two guns hang from inside, a shotgun and a pistol. Both are colored red on the handels. On the indoor metal wall hangs a blue ribbon that reads 'TF Industries, 1965'. As you glean at the Engineers space, he grabs something from inside before handing it to you.

"Here ya are," he speaks softly while handing you a small crimson colored earpiece. Engineer points at one of the two buttons on the device. "This button is for turning it on and this one," he moves his finger to the next button, "is for talking with everyone. Simply hold it down while you talk and everyone will hear ya. Once you're done, let go and the message will end."

Taking the small device from him, you roll it around in your hands. It has a glossy coating making it run smoothly on your skin. "This tiny thing can do all of that?" You asked, amazed.

"Yep! Make sure not to lose it, now."

You awkwardly plug the earpiece into your ear. It fits after your third attempt of getting it to stay in place. "I won't."

Engineer hums in acknowledgment as he then collects the toolbox and his two guns. He attaches them onto his body, pulling on each one to make sure they are snug. His gaze reaches you once he's done. He, not so subtly, judges your appearance.

"Is that what you're wearing?" He wondered with a raised brow. "The Administrator should have assigned you a uniform. You should go back and change before we start today's events."

You're about to groan out the same words you told Scout. However the man himself does it for you.

Scout puts his arm on your shoulder which he then leans on causing you to lose your balance and stumble a bit. "This is the uniform, Engi," Scout corrects smugly, as if the information is obvious. He most likely is taking this as a chance to one up him. "Administrator makes em wear it."

"Is that so?" Engineer's other eyebrow raises on the Engineer's forehead, wrinkles accompanying the action.

You shrug your shoulders making Scout's arm fall off of you. "Yeah, it is," you mumble in annoyance. It's becoming humiliating how much people are starting to look at you. You hate the outfit but you can't help but adore the way it lets cool air cress your body. It's nothing like the chilly nights you've loved but it's the only option you have right now.

"Well, if that's the case then I'm sorry for thinking something else was going on," Engineer apologizes with a light blush dusting his face. Whether it's because he was corrected by Scout or how he very clearly stared at your attire will never be known.

"It's no problem," you grumble. "Just show me to my locker."

Upon hearing the request Scout lets out a gasp. "Oh I can do that! It's right next to mine," he then takes a big step back before slamming his fist into a locker. "This one's mine. You can tell from the scars it has."

The locker has some scratches but you wouldn't call them scars. They look like something a cat would do to a hand when playing too rough.

"To the right of mine is yours! It has your name on it and everything," Scout informs.

You walk up to the locker and it does in fact have your name on it. It's clearly printed on a fake golden plate that has a nail on the top of it to keep it in place. Luckily the locker itself doesn't look too worn. Opening it up you feel the layer of dust and grime it has stuck to your fingers making you cringe in disgust. When the door is wide open you see that it's completely empty inside except the red rust that slowly infects the worn metal. You poke your head inside only to have the smell of a rotting corpse consume you.

Scout peers inside from over your shoulder. "Wow, it looks pretty sad."

You can't help but silently agree with him. It honestly makes you depressed to know that you won't be able to use the space. You were hoping to keep the battling part and your more personal life separate by putting your gear in the locker but it would be self sabotage if you did so. The smell would most definitely linger into your weapons and clothing and you couldn't afford that. You always hated the smell of something rotting.

Engineer hushes Scout in a firm tone. The younger of the two defends himself but is cut off by Engineer. "After today you can put your gear inside here. It'll make it more you while also creating some more space in your room."

You click your tongue. "Um, sure," you coughed, closing the locker up to avoid having the horrid smell damage your nostrils any further. You are absolutely not going to be using this expired box.

You spin around once you're done experiencing the terrible introduction of your locker. Scout gives you a big smile and Engineer gives a more comforting one.

"So now that you got everything set you ready for the explanation?" The Southerner asked.

"Yep," you say while wiping your dusty fingers on your top.

"To put it simply, it's like capturing the flag. There's gonna be a briefcase we gotta grab from their side and then bring that same briefcase back here."

You nod along with his words while trying to wrap your mind around it all. If your understanding this right, you were taken from your home and threatened to have all your information leaked, all to play capture the fucking flag. The information makes your blood start to heat up.

Engineer continues on. "We also have the briefcase on our side that needs to be protected. If that briefcase gets removed and into their respawn room then we lose."

You furrow your eyebrows. "This is a joke, right?" You say scoffing while crossing your arms. It's outrageous to think that this is a real situation that these men face on the weekdays. How could they be so okay with it?

Scout wags his finger at you like a parent would to a child. "Nope. But this is just one of the battles we do. There's this other one that's a lot more complicated but because it's Friday we get it easy."

You close your eyes in deep thought. To hurt others for a childish game. To risk fatal injuries for a stupid briefcase. Out of all the jobs you've been asked to do, this one is the most absurd. What are the people here thinking? Even if you were missing a piece of the puzzle this all seemed ridiculous. By now you're starting to boil over.

You open your mouth to unleash your complaints which are interrupted by the same annoying voice of the administrator.

"One minute until battle," she says with the same crunchy audio.

Men start lining themselves up by the gigantic shutters. Each is equipped with personalized gear, much like yours. You notice that the Spy is now in the room. You never saw him come in,but he must have been here for a while by the way he takes one last drag of his used cigarette before settling himself into place. His eyes catch yours and you feel the bitterness they hold. The reasoning behind the action is unknown but you can't help but feel like he knows something. Now the feeling of worry accompanies the stew you've been brewing since you woke up.

Doing your best to ignore Spy's antics, you grip the handle of your machete, taking it out of its clip on your belt. The sensation of its smooth wrapped handle is all too familiar. The lives you've taken with such a sharp blade is not slim and that knowledge is comforting to you. You've worked with knives all your life and to now have the reassuring blade inside your palms puts you at ease, settling your frustration to a point you could handle.

"We should probably get lined up before the countdown," suggests the Engineer, already holding a pistol in his hands.

Scout is the first to go ahead, you and the Texan follow. With each step you take you can't help but have a feeling that something awful is going to happen. It's a feeling you're all too comfortable with. You stop near the end of the line, sandwiched between Scout and Engineer. Your grip tightens around the machete.

Engineer looks over to you. "Follow me for the first half. It's usually pretty calm at first where I start off."

You return his gaze. "Okay," you say while straightening your back with a worry line forming on your head.

The Administrator's voice returns and counts down from ten. It's eerie how she sounds so lifeless. Like it's just another day that these men will fight against one another. As she continues to count the shutters in front of you rises, making the desert light sink into the room. The warm yellow glow hits your bare legs, warming them up on impact. You can feel yourself already becoming uncomfortably hot.

Finally the Administrator finishes the count down, the entrance now fully opened. The burning sun reigns its terror down onto the dry surface. Your hands start to produce sweat as you look ahead at your soon to be norm.

Chapter Text

Battle cries ring around you along with a "Yeehaw" from Engineer. Men run out into the field while Spy simply walks with an unamused expression. You stand in place taking in the open environment. You're waiting for the adrenaline rush that usually flows through you but nothing comes. Usually before each job epinephrine takes over your system and next thing you know you're roaring to go but yet there's nothing inside you except fear, hesitancy and only the tiniest bit of excitement. Without any other choice you depart respawn. It takes you a bit but soon you're trailing after Engineer who didn't even notice your late arrival.

While you sprint you examine your surroundings. Rusty structures stand around you with a mix of newer material that is either attached to them or create their own structures. Bridges are a common sight as you view one with every ten steps you take. They're all made out of old dark wood with sharp off-colored nails holding them together. You can see Sniper scampering across the brides, each time his feet hit the wood it creaks and groans from the pressure. There's a lack of any living plants or anything green. You start to pant making the air be swallowed into your quickly expanding lungs. Each breath you catch a whiff of sandalwood musk.

Sweat is already running down your forehead and producing in every crevice of your body. The dry air sucks up all the moisture causing your throat to become dry. Trying your best to ignore it, you continued forward. Catching up to Engineer is easy so it's not long till you're side by side, having to slow down your speed once inches away.

The man is already out of breath, his wide chest expanding and falling in the same pace of his run. "When we get to the middle I need you to have my back!" He bellowed.

"Got it," you nod.

It's not long till you reach the center of the arena. Scout is already there, ahead of the crowd, with Medic who is slowly catching up to him. Following them is a skipping Pyro that waves at you and Engineer erratically. You give a small wave back with a confused look while Engineer returns it with a wide crooked smile. Scout and Medic charge ahead but Pyro pauses to grab the flamethrower on their back. They prop it in front of themselves before continuing, their walk becoming more of a trudge. The reason why they needed such a harsh weapon was unknown to you. Perhaps it was just for show.

Scanning the area no one is around besides your own team mates. Some hang around standing, waiting for something, while others run ahead. Engineer must have planned to be one of the first in order to avoid the inevitable havoc. Despite the deduction you can't help but feel watched. The feeling doesn't go away even when doing a double take of your surroundings.

You return your focus onto the mechanic. He kneels to the ground and digs though his toolbox. He pulls out a small device that quickly turns into something bigger once the Texan works on it.

"Alright," huffs Engineer as he stands from his kneeled position. "This will keep 'em at bay for a bit. Let's head back to defend the briefcase."

You nod your head and turn around sharply. By doing so you let the bullet that was aimed at your head brush past your cheek instead. A sharp sting pulses from your new cut that slowly leakes crimson.

"Damnit!" Engineer cries. He grabs your hand and pulls you with him as he runs back causing you to lurch forward, avoiding the next bullet that flies by. When the golden ammo hits the sand it creates a cracking sound that echoes.

Engineer talks to you while you sprint back but your mind is too busy racing. If you wouldn't have moved, that bullet would have hit you square in the head. Death would have been inevitable. You can't die here. Anything but that. How was that even aloud? You thought the attacks would just be simple rough housing with some flashy weapons. That has to be the case.

Engineer stops a few feet away from respawn before coming to a halt. His hand lets go of you only to slam both onto your shoulders. "Hey, Accomplice! Come on, get your head in the game!" He yelled in your face, shaking you. His expression is hard to read due to the goggles and yellow hardhat he wears but from the deep frown on his face you can assume he's either frustrated, concerned or both.

It takes you a moment but eventually you get the words out. "Someone shot at me," you speak, stunned.

"Yeah, they're supposed to."

You look up at the man with your eyes glazed over. "I almost died."

Engineer looks at you concerned, releasing your form to give you some space. "It comes with the job. Did Medic not tell you during your check up?" He whispers the second part, his mouth agape, however you're still able to hear him. The way he spoke makes an ice cold chill run down your spine, and not the good kind.

Your mind continues to spiral, your eyes showing this by the way they constantly move with each thought that pops in your head.

What were you missing? What were you not told? Did Medic do more than just the heart transplant or was there some sick twist that you're just not getting? Why were you not told anything?

Finally you decide to push Engineer for more information, desperate for answers. But you're swept up by a red blur. Again your arm is painfully tugged on. You would have shaken out of the tight grasp around your arm if it weren't for the iconic accent that sounds from the blur's lips.

"I need ya for a sec!" Scout states.

You try to catch up with the constant turn of events, feet hardly keeping up with the sudden fast pace you're being pulled at. Your shoes barely touch sand before they push back into the air making your knees feel as if they will give out any second.

You turn your head into Scout's direction only to see his harsh eyes glaring forward. His eyebrows point downwards and his bottom lip is stiff from how he flattens it. As much as this peaks your curiosity, the reason for Scout being all the way back at resawn was a greater mystery. He was supposed to be in the front, in enemy territory, so how did he manage to get all the way back here?

"I-um, what?" You stammer, confusion written all over your face.

"That damn Heavy and Medic duo keep getting me," he fumed, tightening his grip on you from the memory. "I was originally gonna ask Demo for this plan I've cooked up but he's already busy so your plan B."

"Wait, Scout," you pull yourself out of his hand, falling behind him but still within reach when doing so, "Engineer needed to tell me something. I'm not sure what's going on but I'm missing something vital!"

He looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. "Like what?"

"That's the thing," you pant, "I don't know."

"Then it must not be that important, which means you can help me out!"

Frustration boils within you for what feels like the hundredth time today. First Medic office then it was breakfast followed up with Demoman's room and now here in this dreaded heat. Your hand still holds your machete in a death grip due to the amount of stress you put under. It almost slips out of your fingers from the amount of sweat that is layered over your skin.

Jobs were never this confusing back home. It was always a one and done deal with a single issue having to be handled at most. A situation like this was different to you. So many people, weapons, new environment and so much unknown information. The last part is what you dreaded the most.

Scout slows his pace, running next to you, before speaking. "I need ya to throw one of your grenades at their Medic so I can get past. After that I'll Swifty doge the Heavy, grab the case and we'll book it all the way back to base!"

"Sure," you grit with hidden anger.

"Great! I knew you'd agree to such a great plan!"

Soon enough you arrive at the end of the map. Scout crouches down behind a cement wall with cracks littering its rough surface. He motions for you to join him and you do so with an eye roll. Once you squat down Scout starts whispering.

"Okay we should be clear of any eyes. Soldier has the enemy Spy at bay and Pyro is deep frying their Sniper so we got about a five minute clearing. You just gotta hit the doc."

You reach for the explosive around your waist. Grabbing it, you get prepared to throw it. "Tell me where their Medic is so I can leave. I still need to talk to Engineer."

Scout leans his head out from the wall before quickly ducking back in. "He's about fifteen feet out. Heavy isn't by his side like usual so he must have run off for a bit. This is our chance to get that old man!"

Without much thought you jump up from your position and chuck the grenade exactly fifteen feet. The demand wasn't that hard considering how much your friend and you threw snowballs at each other.

As soon as you release your grip you freeze. The man that stands ahead of you is your Medic. His face is the same sharp sculpture with a pair of round glasses sitting on it. The doctor must have changed his outfit because now he supports a nice blue instead of the red that you wear. His eyes widen as he sees you and so does yours. Everything slows down as you watch him pull both his arms up to shield himself. The blast then ensues. Dust rises from the ground and fogs your line of sight. Scout leaps at the opportunity and takes off, creating his own fog with his sprint.

You stand there for a bit processing what you've done. Shock, fear, guilt, all at once sinks inside you.

"Medic?" You call, slowly stumble around the structure in front of you and make your way into the mist. "Medic!" You're now rushing to find his body while crying for his name in desperate pleas. Gunpowder is the only thing you can smell and your eyes start to burn. Your foot then hits his laid body.

Glancing down you can see that the sight is horrid. The doctor's arms are torn from his body and one lays mangled inches away, flesh barely hanging onto the torn limb. Glass digs into his cheek from his now broken glasses. His face is covered in blood that's mixed with minerals making it look like he has fallen on asphalt.

"Shit, Medic. Oh my God, what did I do?" tears start to leave your eyes and choked sobs leave your tightened throat. Hands clamp around your mouth as you continue to take in the gory sight. It wouldn't be as bad if it wasn't someone you knew. Sure he has crossed your boundaries and completely lost your trust, but that was nothing when compared.

"You okay?"

You flinch from the sudden noise, swinging your machete to the sound.

Scout avoids the attack by a hair. In fact your sharp blade cuts his shirt. "Hey, watch it! I was just asking!"

"I-" you aren't able to finish your sentence, still facing the Medic's corpse.

"You admiring your work or something?"

Your hand removes itself from your mouth and to your hair. You pull on the stands. "I killed him. I didn't know it was Medic until after I…" You give Scout a guilt stricken look. Dry tear trails stain your face and your cheeks feel as if they are burning.

"Uh, yeah you sure got him," Scout says awkwardly. "Listen, we gotta go. I got the briefcase and their Heavy is on his way along with the Spy who just got back."

You nod your head, taking one last look at the damage you've done before closing your eyes and turning away. Scout gives you a small smile despite him just being informed you killed his own team member. You want to ask him about it but keep silent in fear that more standing will lead you to run into anyone on the enemy team.

Scout starts with a simple jog, waiting for you to join him. When you do he starts sprinting and you tag behind. His strides are fast making it hard to keep up with him but you do so mindlessly. You keep thinking about what you did, Medic's lifeless face forever burned into your memory. How was everyone going to react once this all ended. You would be shunned for sure. Maybe they would all beat you to death for revenge of their fallen friend. You wouldn't blame them. You did the same.

"Shit!" Scout yells frantically making you jolt back into reality.

Your vision is then filled with the image of Scout being punched by Soldier sending him flying into the ground. Scout is then pinned by the military man who is also now dressed in blue. The suitcase falls into the sand as Soldier then prepares to pound Scout's face in. However, you step in before he can do so.

Kicking Soldier in his side is luckily enough to push him off of the younger man. "What the hell Soldier!" You roar out. Every emotion flows though you along with adrenaline. You over all of this. You're sick of this place, this situation and it's crazy people.

The man quickly recovers and for the first time you see his eyes as he looks up at you. They're a light baby blue and full of pure raw rage. He removes a shovel he had placed on his back and takes it in his hold before leaping in your direction. You quickly move out of his way to steer clear of his charge.

"You'll pay for that, maggot!" He declared, swinging his rusted shovel at you.

You block the attack with your machete, steering his oversized trowel away from you. Next you push against him causing his weapon to shift out of his grasp slightly making it the perfect opening for you.

"I'm sorry," is the only warning you give before ducking under the metal blades and sliding yourself next to him. You then bring your machete in front of you only to swiftly bring the base of it back into the man's carotid artery. The attack shouldn't kill him but make him unconscious. Soldier drops quickly but not before he throws his shovel behind him in a desperate attempt to hit you, which he successfully does.

You yelp, hand reaching at the new gaping wound in your side that bleeds at an accelerated rate. Once your hand settles itself onto the injury you feel that it's more than just blood wanting to slip out of you. A hiss then leaves your lips when the once comforting wind makes contact with the open gash.

Scout pushes himself off the ground, grabbing the suitcase when doing so. He's about to praise you until he looks your way. Because of your attire it's no secret that you've been cut. "Oh fuck. Accomplice you don't look too great."

You want to say something snarky back at him but you're unable to. You feel lightheaded and next thing you know your legs give out and you collapse. Scout hurriedly catches you before you fall completely. He pulls your arm over his neck in order to drag you into a small shelter nearby. You're set down onto the shaded building's glossy metal walls that are heated up from the sun's rays. The room is as large as a garage and has no windows or flooring. The same earthy aroma from inside respawn is also in this place.

Scout kneels down near you while glancing at your side, cringing at the way blood pours out of you. His hands trace over your naked shoulders, his touch like small snowflakes. "I'll patch you up with your pouch thingy. You have to have some kind of-"

"There's no point. The wound is too deep for any of my supplies," you coughed, blood now rising from your throat and into your mouth. It leaves a metallic taste on your tongue. Everything then starts to become blurry. "Just leave and bring the stupid briefcase back."

Scout looks deep into your fading eyes. His fingers press into you, a frown evident on his face. "I," he pauses and after five long seconds he sighs. "Okay," Scout stands, still looking at you, and turns away. His footsteps grind against sand as he makes his way over to the exit.

Your breaths become shallow and the pain that courses through your body settles until it's just a numb sting. Your vision becomes darker and you feel like you're having a deja Vu moment. The same feeling from when you were in Medics office returns.

So this is it. This is how you die. It's not the way you wanted to go. You've always dreamed about dying in your sleep or of old age. Although, you should have expected to die like this considering your work. If only it wasn't here, in New fucking Mexico with nine men- now eight considering you just killed their one and only medic. You wish you could have passed in your cozy log cabin. To die in the comfort of your own home in the middle of the woods knowing that no one would come or seek you out. Only if that was the case. Instead you're here, bleeding out in a worn makeshift shed.

At least you might see your friend again. They're probably laughing at you right now- from wherever they are- at your situation. You're going to arrive at hell and you'll see them rolling on the ground because of how pathetic you are.

Before you could lose yourself you take one final look at Scout. He gives you a thumbs up and a lopsided grin before leaving. You can't help but return it as your chest rises one final time. The rare smile feels nice on your face.

Chapter Text

It's dark. The kind of dark you see when your in a room with cement walls that lacks any windows or opening. It's the kind of dark that makes one feel hopeless. The dark that tells one that it's time to give up. And you would have. You would have let yourself go if you didn't see what your seeing now.

A bright light shines in the distance, sparks of white glisten as it slowly comes closer to your form that floats in this dark void. The cold air around you becomes freezing as you come within arms reach of the orb. 

You see pictures within the glossy circle. Pictures of you and your friend. Pictures of smiles and cheers. Pictures of the life you had before you had started staining your hands with the blood of the guilty.

Soon you were so close to the orb that the cold it emanated hit your skin causing you to feel as if you were dancing in the Arctic. You didn't mind however, not when it's the same feeling you had with them back in the Midwest. Back when things were easier, more familiar.

Continuing to stare at the images of your past, you hug yourself. Joy washes over you, a smile accompanying it. Your whole body relaxes while still being held in midair in the unknown void you find yourself in.

Then a memory plays on the orb's soft yellow surface. It's one of your favorite memories.

"This is it!" Your friend squeals.

"You're kidding," you look up at the building in disgust, "This place is worse than that shit hole we were squatting in."

Your friend holds their chest in fake pain and places a hurt frown on their face. "How could you say that about our dream house?"

"Dream house? I don't even think that the wildlife around here would try to live in this thing."

"Hey! I worked hard on getting this place from that sketchy guy. Plus just look around us. It's in the middle of nowhere meaning no peeping eyes. it's the perfect place to start this new life we started," your friend looks at you with sad eyes at the mention of your new lives. You can't blame them though. It's not what you wanted either.

Shrugging, you open your truck door to retrieve your luggage. Everything was packed in garbage bags. Rips are evident along with thinning walls from the constant use they've been in. 

"If you say so then I'll give it a shot," you hum, your hands grasping at the bags while you drag them out of the worn vehicle that creaks with every small movement.

"Aww, there's my BFF I know and love. Always too soft when it comes to me."

You throw your friend their bag which sends them falling flat on their ass from the impact. They let out a rough gasp as they make contact with the crunching snow. 

A smirk makes it's way onto your face while you walk over your your friend who glares at you from the ground. "My love is only so limited."

A chuckle emanates from their slightly blue lips before a snowball hits you in the face. Slowly you brush the flakes away and lift your head to look at your friend who now wears a wide smile. They let a giggle exit their slightly blue chapped lips.

They give you an innocent look, batting their eyes. "Woops."

You crouch down, gathering snow into your palms to create the perfect snowball. You even start to rub the snow a bit to create a ice shell around it so it will really hurt.

"No wait," your friend cries while letting out a loud laugh. "I didn't mean it! Don't hit me!"

"Should have thought about that before you fired at me," you say in a stern tone that has a hint of humor behind it. Then with about half your strength you send the snowball hurling at them.

"Ahhh!" They scream as a puff of snow splatters on their chest along with a thin layer of ice. "You wounded me!"

Your expression turns into a grin while you walk towards them. They sit there laughing their head off despite being hit twice. You reach your cold hand out towards them and they take hold of it with theirs. Pulling them up is easy considering how much they made you carry them around. That and that they've always been quite light.

"We should probably head in, it's getting dark." You speak with a soft smile, still holding their hand in yours.

They bend down and clutch your hand slightly while they grab their luggage from the snowy ground. "Yeah, yeah," they huff with content.

The two of you walk to the doors of the wooden cabin that sits in the middle of the woods. The glass windows are broken in. The door looks to be falling off it's rusted hinges and you don't even want to talk about the chipped wood that hangs off the walls. It's rough around the edges but with the money that will soon roll in it will be easy to fix. You will guarantee that after a few years it will become a home. A dream home just for the two of you. 

While you stare longingly into the orb another light fixes itself from behind. You didn't notice until it's red hue leaked into the glowing light that entrapped you. You ignore it, keeping yourself in the chilling sun of memories. However, this doesn't last long. Soon an unknown breeze starts and then picks up until it's the strength of a tornado. It sucks you out of the cool environment and into the crimson one. You let out a string of pleas to not be taken away. Screams of agony shoot from your throat as you're taken away from your memories.

You're pulled into a pool of blood, or what you think is blood. The liquid is dense, dark, warm, and drags you down into its depths. You struggle to swim up and your need for air is becoming an issue. Closing your eyes you frown, the kind of frown that hurts your face because of how much you constrict the muscles. 

Then it all stops. The wind, the warmth, the dark. It all stops while you release the last bit of air in your lungs and descend.

Chapter Text

You're propelled onto harsh wood flooring, wood chips digging into your newly grown skin, creating splinters that sting red. The warm room you're in also doesn't help your heating flesh. A harsh gasp enters your now soft lips and rough coughs follow. There's a ringing in your ears that causes your head to pound. The coughs continue until the feeling of bile slithers up.

You sit up on your shaking forearms before releasing nothing but your own stomach acid onto the ground. It doesn't hit you, only bubbling as it is absorbed into the cracks of wood. Your mess joins the already copious amounts of stains on the earthy smelling wood. The aroma of dirt and mold on the flooring mixes with your vomit creating a stench that stings your nose, causing you to gag. Your body lurches again as it expels more fluid out of you.

After releasing all your stomach had to offer, you rise to your knees in aching pain. Muscles tremble as you force them to work. You take a second to breathe and get rid of the now bitter taste on your tongue.

Where the hell are you? Why can't you remember anything?

The ringing in your ears fades just enough for you to hear the buzz of a machine. It's faint, but just loud enough to make you aware of its presence.

What's that noise? Why were you just thrown to the ground? Who or what threw you? Why do you feel so sick and why is everything spinning so fast? Questions continue to consume you while you start to stand up, legs shaking when you do so.

"Fuck," you grumble. Dizziness is one thing that takes over, but your overall lack of consciousness is also worrying. You're unable to think straight and your thoughts seem to cut off before they can end.

Your head falls back. A headache pounds against your skull as you try to form a coherent thought. That's when you see it. The same giant contraption from the Respawn room you were in hours ago hangs above you. This means you must be back in Respawn, but why? Along with this observation, you take notice of how dark the room is. Only one light is on and it's dim. The golden glow of the ceiling bulb near the entrance of the room doesn't light much. If anything, it just adds a disturbing atmosphere to the already startling situation.

You don't think about it much, even though you're not quite able to, as the same sparkles you remember seeing before rain down from the machine. You're sure they're real this time because they glimmer so realistically. Each speck of what looks to be glitter floats down on your body. When the particles hit you they disappeared as if they never existed. It's strange but weirdly comforting to see such a bewildering thing.

The last piece of glitter hits you; it sparks on your skin like an electric snap. Suddenly, a rush of emotions sprouts from your corrupted mind. Your eyes widen as you remember everything.

Memories of the past week crash into you all at once. Miss Pauling, New Mexico, nine men, the surgery and then battle day. At battle there was Medic and his mangled body, Soldier's sharp shovel and Scout's lopsided smile. And then there was your injury, your fatal injury. The blood that seeped out of you like a waterfall. You remember the pain that shook through your body and in return the recollection makes you feel squeamish.

The idea of such a fatal tear striking you is heart dropping. A new found fear crashes through your system that drowns out any and all other words that swirl around your loose mind.

One of your trembling hands reaches for your wounded side only to feel nothing but your soft textured skin. Your eyes widen at the feeling. You then look down past your crop top only to see no gash but instead a fresh coat of flesh placed in its spot.

What the hell is happening? How are you even okay after such an attack? You recall the feeling of death, how it consumed you in its void and rested you in its unforgiving hold. If you're supposed to be dead then how are you back here with a healed body?

You just stand in your own vomit thinking up questions that you can't find answers to. Eyes squinted, face twisted and mind running wild. You know this is real and not a dream. Your nauseating stomach ache and pounding head is enough proof of that. Trying to think realistically is your speciality but that sensible brain of yours comes up with nothing. Every theory you come up with shatters. This should be impossible. You should be dead.

That's when something else comes to you. Your conversation with Engineer in the middle of the battlefield when you had been shot at. You had told him that you had almost died, that the bullet almost struck the center of your head.

That's when Engineer's soothing Texan accent sings in your already ringing ears. "It comes with the job."

Oh, god.

It comes with the fucking job. By the way Engineer worded it he makes it sound like death was something unavoidable. What the hell did you get yourself into? How stupid are you to take this job? Why didn't you just slam the door harder when Pauling arrived?

You close your eyes tightly. Tight enough to cause tears to fall. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," rambles spill from your lips. Your hands reach for your forehead and proceed to slide up your head and tangle themselves in your snarled hair.

At the notice of your own panic, trying to allow a huge breath of air to be swallowed by your clamping throat is hard but doable. Then you let it all go. The breath, the questions and your tension. Your hands finish running though your hair and drop to your sides limply as you take another breath. As this breath is released you relax.

You need to get a grip. Freaking out has only caused bad shit to happen to you and you don't need anymore of that right now. What you need are answers.

A new mission has made itself clear to you. You have to find Engineer. He knows the truth and was already willing to give it to you before so you doubt he would hide anything now. He wanted to tell you before everything so why wouldn't he? Plus, he seems like a nice guy despite being a killer like you.

Slowly you fix your head back down. Your legs still shake and small bursts of pain rattle though your body. However, you push through it. Making your way across the dark room, your feet scratch along the wood beneath you making it echo across the cement walls. It takes a bit but you get to the double doors and push them open. A new found determination shines in your gaze as you stumble out the doors and into the hallway.

The halls are just as dark as the Respawn room. This time however the only light is the moon's. It shines through the thick, bulletproof windows and into the hallway making misty white rays lay themselves across the walls. The light isn't as bright as you hoped, dimmed down by the strong night.

Trying your best to find some sense of direction in the dark you press one of your splintered arms on the wall. A sharp sting flares up when making contact with the wall. It's ignored as soon as it comes.

Limping, you start down the halls. You try and remember how to get back to the rooms but everything is so hazy that the entire base feels like a maze. Also your mind is still quite foggy when it comes to remembering this place.

As you start making your way down the halls you hear something. Metal clinking and what sounds to be a voice speaking erratically in a hushed manner emanate from your left side. It's faint but audible enough for you to have some idea where it's coming from. It sounds a few halls away making you start to speed your pace. Your limp becomes more apparent as you're now practically hopping on one leg. Each hop makes a loud tap on the cracked tile beneath your combat boots. Your arm is now just barely tracing the wall. Beginning to pant, you rush toward the man made racket.

Then an intersection makes itself clear causing you to come to a sudden stop. Halting your feet, you feel the sweat leaking from your forehead. Your chest heaves up and down as you examine the hall that runs left to right in front of you. Looking both ways you spot a yellow light that comes from what looks to be another set of double doors to your left. The yellow blaze is quite bright making the new path ahead clear.

Letting go of the wall, you hobble your way over to the set of doors. The noises still sounding from inside them.

You stop just inches away from the opening. The doors look pretty plain with the same texture as Repawn's. It however does have a title plate made of metal to the right. It's surprisingly neat compared to everything else in this base. 'Workshop' it reads in bold, black letters that have been carved into its silver plated surface.

The voice from before is more clear, an all too familiar southern drawl coming from it, but it's still drowned out by new sounds of mechanical whirling and metal hitting metal. It's hard to know exactly what's going on but you don't really care either. Engineer is clearly in there and that's all you need to know.

Without further ado, you take both hands and press them against the doors. You don't bother knocking knowing that he won't hear it over everything.

Pushing forward the yellow light consumes you causing you to slam your eyes shut and hiss.

Chapter Text

“Fuck, that's bright,” You mutter as the sharp yellow glow shines right in your face.

Your eyes squint as you try to see past the blinding light. When you're finally able to take in the new environment it's vastly different from the rest of the base.

Everything is somewhat cleaned and even if it's more like an organized mess, it's still clean. The smell is what really gets you. Sharp silver and electric smoke runs through the air. In the middle of all this is Engineer who sits on a stool with a giant red machine towering above his already short stature. His figure slumps as he seems to be fixing something inside this machine. Spares fly like fireworks from a metal tool he has in his hand. Mumbles of incoherent jabber leaves his lips. He hasn't taken notice of your presence at all yet.

You stare at the scene for a bit, taking in everything and just how abnormal this man seems to be at this moment. It sounds like he's speaking gibberish. His hands move at an erratic pace while he works. The sight is so odd from portrayed himself to you before. A part of you says to leave, sensing a weird tinge of danger. However, you throw this out, too determined to get answers despite these small warnings.

Your feet start to move towards the southern man in a slow manner due to your limp. As you get closer you can hear the sounds of electricity sparking and metal sliding against itself. The ear splitting noise makes you clench your jaw while you continue your way over.

“Engineer?” you try to talk over the noise, although due to his lack of response you doubt he heard you. Calling again louder, you get closer to the hunched figure. Still no response.

As soon as your in arms reach, you take a shaking hand and reach to his back to hopefully get his attention this time. One last time you call his name, your fingers grazing his back lightly. The worn jean like fabric of his overalls brush against the pads of your fingertips. It's almost enough fabric to hide the fact he tenses up right as you touch the center of his upper back.

In a blink of an eye all the clinks, sparks and snaps stop as Engineer’s face quickly turns towards yours. Instantly, your face drops as you see the look on his profile. He may have been wearing his goggles but you don't have to see his eyes to know what that crooked snarl means. You pull your hand away from him while Engineer twists his body and raises his one hand that holds a welding torch in it. Stumbling back, you try to hold your hands in front of you to show you mean no harm. Unfortunately, it was too late as a loud mortifying crack rang throughout the room. Hard metal forced into your face, slamming right into your nose.

You fall from the harsh impact, your body crashing onto the cold floor. You grasp at your nose as soon as the throbbing sting flares. Legs kick themselves away from your attacker, your free hand aiding in this action.

While you scoot away you watch Engineer’s now standing frame loom above you. It's creepily intimidating, especially since you can't see his true emotion in his eyes.

Once you're about a safe distance away you still yourself and watch Engineer for his next action now that he's become unpredictable to you. He just stays in place, his face looking in your direction. There's still that snarl and his shoulders are squared up as if he's trying to make his short stature bigger than it actually is.

Your chest heaves up and down while you stare at Engineer with wide eyes. You're not sure if the man can see the slight fear on your face or the way your body subconsciously becomes defensive. Fight or flight kicks in but unfortunately your mind picks the third one and freezes, just eyeballing the man in bewilderment.

The two of you stay like this for a second. You stare at the man ahead of you. The gears in his head turn for a second more before he drops the welding torch. The sound of the instrument falling on the floor makes you jump a bit.

“Accomplice?” he says just above a whisper. It would have gone unheard if it wasn't so deathly quiet. His body is still tense but now it's his arms that come up in a surrender position. The steps of his boots echo the room when he decides to take a step towards you who sits on the ground, holding your nose with a pained look in your eye.

You draw back a bit as he comes closer to you, mind racing from what had occurred. Blood leaks through your fingers that hold onto your broken facial structure. Drops dribble onto your skin, the liquid falling onto your chest and staining your top.

He already hit you once, what's to say he won't do it again? Sure he was nice and you need answers but with this change from him you're not sure if those answers you need will actually be provided. Plus, you've seen scenarios play out like this first hand, but it's usually you who's throwing the punches.

Engineer sees the way you shy away from him, taking notice in your now defensive position. He then finally says something once he sees the amount of blood that spills from you.

“I'll go grab the first aid. You stay right there, darlin. I'll be quick,” he utters with a shaky voice before taking one last look at you before leaving.

You don't bother looking at where he runs off to. Instead you hiss, cradling your nose, feeling the fragments unalign themselves. The pain isn't unfamiliar but it isn't welcomed either.

Slowly, you pull yourself off the ground, making sure no one's around to watch you struggle getting on your own two feet. Your legs shake now that a new pain is introduced to the concoction you've already had placed on your body since you were thrown into existence. Once up, your body is practically dumped over, worn from the constant beatings of today.

This new sensation of loose bone makes you feel a little dizzy. Your head slowly lifts itself, and looks over to where Engineer left. He didn't leave from the entrance of the workshop but instead a door farther left. There's no sign and even if there was it would be too far to read.

Minutes go by and soon enough Engineer comes back into the workshop with a pristine white first aid kit. You catch a glimpse into the room he emerged from and from what you can tell it must be a restroom of some sort. A mirror is seen along with tiles that line up the walls.

He comes over to your weakening frame. “Let me help you over to a seat,” he whispers right next to you, perhaps not to cause anymore discomfort, you'll never know. He then takes your free arm in his and leads you over to the seat he was in moments ago. Engineer lets out a small groan as he starts to hold your weight. Your legs are moving but they're clumsy so Engineer takes the liberty of basically dragging you to the chair and seating you. “There you go.”

“I didn't mean to scare you,” you mumble out as blood drips from your top lip and into your mouth. The iron taste makes you cough, your whole body reacting to the action.

Engineer opens the med kit and takes out a gauze before looking back in your direction. His goggles are now around his neck, something he must have done when you were too busy trying to hold your face together. His eyes are a soft blue, the color that the sky would display on its best days. However, in this instance the color is more disturbing. The contrast to the deep crimson blood or the blinding yellow light that still rains down upon the two of you.

“Don't you worry bout that,” he uttered in an airy voice that dripped with remorse, “I know you meant no harm.” Engineer then takes his left hand to gently remove your hand from your face. When he does this your breath hitches a little once the injury is exposed to the air. “Yeesh, sorry, darlin. I really did a number on ya.”

The southerner then takes his gaze to your nose, lightly wiping away some blood before squinting his eyes to see just how bad it is. You squint back at Engineer but he doesn't seem to notice. “I know. I can feel it.”

Engineer leans back once he's done examining you. He takes a deep breath before placing his hand on his hat, giving you a weary look. “I think we'll have to pay a visit to Medic.”

Your heart drops, your face goes pale as soon as Engineer mentions the man you killed hours ago. Engineer must have noticed the color drain from you because he raises a brow.

He puts the bloodied gauze on the worktable by the two of you. The entire time he does this he motions seem slowed down and his eyes hold you in a strangely tense gaze. “Something wrong?” He questions.

You look away from Engineer, trying to think of something to say. Nothing comes to mind and you're not sure that bringing up the fact that you murdered the man would make this situation better. As far as you know Engineer could just hit you again but much harder.

“No.”

Chapter Text

The Texan gives you a raised brow that is accompanied by a concerned frown. It's obvious he knows that you have more on your mind than just a one-word response, and as much as he wants to push for an answer, he doesn't. Maybe he understands that it's not the time or perhaps he’s waiting for you to get even more vulnerable. You don't know but you're still not going to speak up.

Suddenly, you're being supported by Engineer with your only warning being a small, “Here we go.” He snakes his gloved hand to your side to help you off the chair you're on. The sudden touch makes you flinch, especially since the rubber of his gloves slides so easily across your bare skin. The part that catches your attention the most is the sound of a buzz that emanates when Engineer fixes his grip on you. His fingers wrap around your naked waist and you feel them twitch. Like he wasn't sure of his own strength from the way he would tighten his grip before then slowly releasing it. All while this was happening, his other hand which wasn't covered with a yellow glove, took your arm closest to him carefully and placed it over his shoulder. Each movement is cautious and somewhat calculated. It makes you squirm a bit. His face scrunches, shifting his weight slightly to accommodate you, while also trying to keep his sickeningly, southerly sweet, nature.

Once he gets you to stand, your body automatically leans on his short frame. He holds you tenderly, finders lightly wrapped around you but also providing some balance. It's unfamiliar. Your bare midriff touches the coarse fabric of his clothes. The sensation sends an unnerving ripple through you. Being this close to someone feels weirdly intimate, even forbidden. You haven't even held someone's hand in a caring way in years, and this is the worst introduction back into it. Engineer’s body on yours is nothing but professional, you know that, but you can't help the small blush that creeps onto your face. It's a mystery if it's from embarrassment because you look so weak, or the fact that you may be a bit touch starved.

Your feet trip over themselves as Engineer practically drags you out of the workshop. The hallways are still dark and dim as the two of you make your way down to med bay. Tried steps and heavy breaths are all you can hear in the empty space. The awkward silence amongst the two of you is thick and you pray this man won't remember you as the rookie who has been nothing but an inconvenience.

It's a bit strange. You know that there are eight other men here, and yet it's so quiet. They must all be asleep. How late was it? How long have you been stuck between the world of the living and what you think was the afterlife? How the hell did you even allow yourself to dig this deep of a hole in New Mexico? A part of you even starts to wish you just let Miss Pauling leak your information from the start to whoever just so you wouldn't have to be stuck in this damn position.

“We were all worried when you didn't come back,” Engineer stated through the stillness, interrupting your thoughts. His words cut through the tension and the silence, killing two birds with one stone. “After Scout had brought the suitcase back and earned us that victory we noticed that you hadn’t respawned. You gave us quite a fright, ya know.”

You give the southerner a surprised look when he enlightens you. You are surprised to hear that Scout has earned a victory. You'd thought for sure that he would find his way back into trouble. The fact that Engineer mentions the Respawn also has your attention. With wide eyes and your face still covered with your hand, you're able to mumble something back.

“What's Respawn?,” you ask, blood hitting the palm of your hand as your lip flings the fallen blood on your nose. Cringing a bit at the feeling, you find yourself not having the strength or care to clean off your hand.

You open your mouth again to ask more, horrid curiosity taking you over. However, asking more could make your situation worse. You need to play your cards perfectly, and you're not sure you can handle the more grueling things you wish to have answered. The fact you're still breathing is the one you are most fretful about. Mostly because you are not even able to wrap your head around it. The fear of the unknown is something you've always been cautious about and in this situation, you're facing it head-on.

Engineer’s body comes to a halt as he gives you an astonished look of his own when he hears your question. He stops walking, causing your own body to come to a stop, jerking a bit forward before the man stables you back to his side. You're thankful for the small break even if it wasn't intentional. Your breath is still short and now your mind is still trying to catch up. From what you can gather, you must have been stuck in this respawn for hours. You worried a lot of people. You've caused plenty of trouble just within your first day of work, and Scout managed to bring that suitcase back to base with your help. Knowing that Scout was able to give the team a victory makes you feel slightly better. If only you didn't manage to make a big mess everywhere else.

“Medic really didn't tell you? He told me he had during your check-up,” Engineer elaborated in a hushed manner. His grip on you is anxiously tight. The hand on your waist starting to make you sore and a whisper of a mechanical-like hum is just barely audio from him. “Before your surgery, you should have been told about the Respawn.”

Your eyes squint a bit in confusion at what you're being told. The check-up with Medic had been more intimidating than informative. All you remember from him was about the unwanted heart transplant and the sickening grin he gave you while you were subdued into unconsciousness. Nothing about med bay was enjoyable. Honestly, it's a miracle you even remember the fact you got a heart transplant. From how strong those sedatives were that he had given you, you'd expect to forget the entire scenario even happened. If only that was the case. After thinking about all of this, you're not feeling as sorry that you were the one to cut his life short. Hopefully, your teammates thought the same. You were about to find out soon since you're on your way there anyway.

“I was told about a heart transplant. Nothing else.” Is all you utter before then looking away from Engineer and straight forward, the situation turning more unnerving each second. “He said something before I was out. I didn't catch it though. I couldn't tell what he was saying.”

Engineer follows your gaze. He must have caught the way you are becoming anxious because he pushes the topic aside and continues down the hall. It's obvious he's still hesitant, his eyes glancing at you every so often, his lips opening just slightly before he quickly bites them closed and trudges on ahead. Questions must still circle his mind but you're unwilling to provide any more answers, the two of you wanting to get this short trip over with.

The pair of you continue to med bay. It doesn't take long after the mini-intervention. Within the time you walked here you took in your condition, taking the opportunity to gather yourself while also trying to forget that you're practically being hugged by your teammate. First, you notice how your once unfamiliar surroundings start becoming recognizable. The kitchen doors come into view. You know where you are. This is the same path Pauling had walked you down when you first arrived. Then a few more steps later, you reach the double doors that you dread.

“The doctor is out,” with a smiley face that is barely visible in the dim lighting.

Your legs stop but Engineer keeps going. When you saw that sign, you couldn't help but fully take in where you are and who's supposed to be in this room. Well, if you hadn't killed him and all. You're definitely going to get your shit rocked.

You're starting to figure out that despite this man's height, he's surprisingly strong. He drags you into the antiseptic smelling room with a small grunt accompanying him in the action. The double doors are pushed open when Engineer leans on them. He gives another grunt at all the manual labor he's going through. It makes you feel just a bit bad until you then remember the reason you're being forced into the med bay in the first place is because of this man and his stupid blow torch. Who the hell carries around a blow torch in the middle of the night anyways? The guy should have been in bed.

“Let’s get ya on the operating table for now,” Engineer whispered, but due to the empty room, it sounded as if he spoke right in your ear. His breath was felt on your neck. That didn't feel great.

You don't give a verbal response. A simple short nod of your head is all he gets before he slowly fixes his grip on you. A huge wave of dread is slowly washing over you each second, and your heart starting to sink. You know damn well this is it for you, this is the end. He’s going to take you in here, won't be able to find Medic, and then actually beat the shit out of you instead of just a simple bonk on the nose. He’ll probably make your face worse, probably unrecognizable.

That's what you would do, it's what you did when your friend got hurt.

He holds you closer to himself and your body stiffens, taking in this more caring touch instead of the violent one that's soon to come. Then, you're taken to the clinic. Disinfectant attacks your noise making you cringe at the smell, slightly gagging. Engineer keeps dragging you deeper into the dark, feet still catching on themselves or skidding on the flooring before Engineer places you onto the operating table.

You sink right into the used cushion, your temporary southern savior watching this as he gently lets you go. His eyes have a guilty look that you barely catch before he turns his head away from you. He takes his gloved hand and brings it to his face, holding the skin between his nose and quietly ranting about what you're pretty sure is you. He's tired, stressed, and painfully worried. It's written all over his face. One could even see the eye bags now that you look closer at him. In order to not seem rude, you look elsewhere. Another IV pole is by this cot. The use for why it's here is puzzling but so is everything else in this damn place.

A deep breath is then taken by him before he looks back at your slouching figure. “I’ll go grab the doc. Just stay here and I'll be back as soon as I can with him. Don't cha worry one bit, darlin.”

Simply nodding your head, you still keep your lips tightly sealed, one hand still holding your face even though it's unnecessary by this point. You're scared your voice might break when you speak up. Instead of risking embarrassing yourself even more, you just watch Engineer with nervousness in your gaze. He walked into the room labeled office. Each step he takes sends a chill down your spine until you're stone cold, and for the first time, you hate it. Engineer opens the door just enough for his body to fit, making you unable to see anything in the room.

He doesn't come back. It's been five minutes and he hasn't come back. No noise is heard from the office, the only thing you can hear is the slight ringing in your ears and your muffled breath that's covered by your palm.

Maybe you should make a run for it. Leaving here first before he can get you before any of them can get you. The idea is risky but as each noiseless minute goes by, it's becoming more and more favorable. Waiting another good five minutes gives you enough time to make up your mind. You start sliding off the bed. Combat boots hit the floor tile. You let go of your nose so you can hold the cot as you start to leave. Your bloodied hand is now smearing your crimson DNA all over the cotton sheets. No sound is made as you then hesitantly take a step away from the cot and to the double doors of freedom.

Your body stills, drowned in a rush of trepidation when you hear the click of the office door unlatching. Before you can turn around and defend yourself against anyone you catch the sound of a dead man’s voice.

“Ah, Accomplice! Leaving so soon? You just got back!” the all too familiar German voice haunts the room.

Looking over your shoulder, you see him. Just like Jesus Christ himself, the dead man has risen from his grave, except instead of a white toga, he wears striped pajamas. He looks as happy as can be, that sinister grin plastered on his face as if he couldn't be more ecstatic. It makes it all more menacingly terrifying. His limbs are all attached accordingly and his glasses are unscathed upon his face. He couldn't have looked or been better.

The lips of your mouth open to try and utter something, anything, but you can't. All you can do is take a step back, unsure of your movements as the once dead doctor walks closer to you.

“Hop back onto the bed and I can see that nose of yours,” he hums nonchalantly while he moves himself to the cot, Engineer right behind him. They both look somewhat confused on why you're standing. You, on the other hand, are practically stunned into a frozen state.

Your mussels only relight when the doctor takes another step, this time towards you. Instincts kick in. Just like last time, you reach for the IV pole and swing it over your head, ready to strike when he's close enough. Your breathing is sped back up, eyes wide, mouth agape, and blood still painting your face in a trail that spills from your nose. There's no doubt you look absolutely mad to these people.

The act of your sudden movements, your hands now equipped with a pole and ready to strike, surprises Engineer while Medic just shakes his head as if it's just another inconvenience to his night. While Medic dismisses your aggression, Engineer moves to stop you. His shorter frame rushes over to you, making you freeze since you don't intend to attack the man who only seeks peace in this moment. A gloved hand reaches for the pole while another grabs your hands and tries to lower your arms.

“Now, Accomplice, What's gotten into you,” Engineer chokes out in pure confusion at your actions. He even huffs while he tries to pry your hands off the pole, your grip tight and not willing to let go so easily.

Medic chimes in with a slow yawn and a shrug of his shoulder, “It's just what they do. I think they have a thing for hitting people with poles.”

“You're supposed to be dead!” You then suddenly cut through the conversation, fighting against Engineers' much stronger grip, “I watched you die! You lost half your limbs!” you pant out.

Finally, the Engineer manages to take the medical equipment out of your gasp while also flinching a bit at your harsh tone. It has to be the first time anyone on this team has heard you speak so much or so loudly. The fact that so much emotion flares through you is a bombshell.

The room is still and quiet. You stopped fighting against the Engineer and just glared at Medic.

“Ohhhhhh,” Medic muses, “You don't know, do you?”