Words, Words, Words.

I love to write and I'm going to post my work (mostly fanfiction) here. Catagories include: TF2 One Piece Blue Exorcist Attack On Titan Supernatural Sherlock and others... I may or may not write ficlets upon request.  It depends on (a) if I'm familiar with the work and (b) what you want. If someone would like to draw my OC's it would be greatly appreciated, since I suck at drawing.

[the-greentext-guy]

[roisheep]

[torpidgilliver]

here's a transcript:

>walking home from a party late one evening >several guys were following me, as my drunk ass managed to piss them off by existing >try to walk faster, to no avail, as I'm drunk as shit >catch me in some random student neighbourhood >oh shit, my ass is about to be beaten >still in talking phase >lights flick on in a house >three guys in full musketeer garb walk out >leader is some blond guy with a beard, eyepatch, and some weird-ass accent >"What sort of ruffians would be accosting someone outside our residence? Stand and deliver!" >guys start yelling at them to fuck off, that I deserved to get my ass beaten >"Very well, then. Draw steel, you blackguard!" >all three of them draw rapiers on their belts >guys run >"I know not why those foul men sought your harm, but come and tell us the tale, stranger!" >spend remainder of evening drinking mulled wine with lunatics >bunch of Swedish re-enactors live there >blond guy is actually missing an eye; lost it in an machine shop accident >stagger home completely drunk with a hat

I had no idea people like that existed. Or had the money to rent a house.

in addition to two comments reading "FUCKING EPIC" and "THIS A THOUSAND TIMES THIS" op elaborated further in another post:

Holy shit, is this still being posted?

I figure I owe /tg/ a bit of an update on these guys.

Their leader, O he of one eye and little common sense, nearly had his visa revoked for these kinds of shenanigans. One too many arrests meant that his right to stay in the country was contested, and he had to go to court to defend himself and prevent his visa from being revoked.

I was his ride to court, and had to testify to the board that he shouldn't be deported for lack of common sense or social normality.

His defense? A written speech, about three pages long, about the rights of man, the education he has received here, and the opportunities for a one-eyed machinist. The spirit of his crimes were all in defense of people who would otherwise suffer. For other witnesses, he had some of the random people he'd helped out, including one memorable point where a woman, nearly on the verge of tears, pointed out how he'd taken on a guy threatening to rape her and carrying a knife by whipping out a fencing saber, disarming him, and mocking him in his thick Swedish accent so that the girl could call the cops. Something like a dozen people all showed up, explaining how this dude, despite his eccentricities, made the country better.

He was not deported, and lives here to this very day, stalking the streets in musketeer garb, rescuing drunks, and dispensing his own brand of justice.

[scarecrowqueen]

The superhero we deserve

[everythingfox]

“Breeze the baby horse is all grown up, but still sleeps with his teddy years later”

(Source)

[stimman4000]

.

[runcibility]

You... you can’t just leave this perfect comment in the tags

[cipheramnesia]

I don't like the jiggle.

[leaf-jelly]

i love the jiggle

[musashigouda-deactivated2019032]

hey ao3 can you like give the extra $38k you made from this month’s funds drive to charity

[blooming-wilting]

You know it legally is a charity, right?

If x charity aims for £10, but gets £15, would you expect then to give back the extra five or give it then to another charity? No. Any extra costs go into the “rainy day” fund; sometimes servers crash or break, sometimes false reports are made that require the legal team, sometimes you need to hire coders or what not to implement new features or fix bugs or deal with broken code … 

The money they aimed for is the bare minimum, which goes towards things like basic server costs and domain names and legal advice and so forth, but they don’t just “pocket” the rest (as people claim). It’s not a business. It has no advertisements. It needs some “rainy day” cash to function. 

You can’t ask a charity to give money to another charity. 

It needs what it gets to function and improve. 

[fangasmagorical]

kiena-tesedale replied to this post

They don’t “pocket” excess money. They have a publicly accessible budget - waaaay more info than most charities, in fact. In it, you can clearly see where each dollar goes. (Also, you are vastly underestimating either how much traffic AO3 gets or how much servers/hosting costs.)                    

In my experience, people who don’t work in web design and hosting just have no concept of how heavy a load something like AO3 would have. Not only is the traffic absolutely buck wild, but the quantity of data that archive needs to store is fuckoff crazy. I’m talking “more than the library of congress” crazy. The only reason it doesn’t require Netflix levels of data serving is that it’s text based rather than video.

AO3 is in the top 300 websites in the world, and the top 100 in the US. It is the number 2 literature website.

Number 2 in the entire world. JSTOR is 20.

It sees about 6 million people a day. About 250k an hour. Each of those people is loading multiple pages, many are running searches that execute on literally hundreds of potential variables per search. The demands involved are astronomical.

JSTOR, btw, makes 85 million dollars a year.

It’s 18 ranks below AO3′s traffic, and takes in 650 times the amount of money.

But let’s say you think that’s an unfair comparison. Would you say that the Project Gutenberg Literature Archival Group- another text based archive that handles literature operating outside traditional copyright requirements- is more similar?

Because it sees all of 4% of the traffic that AO3 handles.

Care to guess its budget?

Double that of AO3.

AO3 is doing shit on the kind of shoestring budget that I fully, 100% cannot comprehend. And that’s just the archival service.

The 130k also pays for the OTW’s legal team, which they use to defend the right of fandom to fucking exist.

It’s absolutely batshit fucked up that people are fighting to have the OTW defunded and AO3 shut down. They are the only organized group that actually stands directly between fandom- all the art and the fics and the vids and the music and the chats and the memes and everything we love about interactive, transformative work- and an incalculable amount of lawsuits.

[redvanillabee]

Can I also add that apart from running a legal team and the best online library around, they also run a free, peer-reviewed academic journal dedicated to fan studies called Transformative Works and Cultures.. They incorporate studies of fandoms from all around the world, and are able to follow very closely with fandom trends. Studies found in TWC are leagues better than those cringey ‘I heard about this fan-dom thing from my teenage niece’ essays. 

[superhumandisasters]

Just reblogging this to remind everyone that AO3 is fucking incredible and it has singularly transformed fandom.

[sol1056]

speaking as someone who works in cloud, I’ve had some variation of this conversation so many times:

boss: that can’t be done. me: AO3 does it, and for 1/100th what you’re suggesting it’d cost. boss: they’re using blood magic. it’s the only explanation.

[pietriarchy]

everyone loves to shit on david cage for making his games so heavily prompt based but let me tell you it’s the prompts specifically that elevate his work to the level of modern masterpieces

[loremerchant]

[taragrimface]

wheres the one where the player fails every prompt in a chase scene and it turns a dramatic pursuit into a mr bean movie

[sapiosexualmcride]

this the video you’re talking about?

[taragrimface]

YES THANK YOU

[i-writewords]

Are you dead? you officially haven't updated in a whole year.

Wow, has it really been a year?No, I'm not dead. But life hasn't been kind to me this past year. I won't go into details, but I've had to stop writing and focus on more important things. I'm sorry I never updated to let everyone know I was going off the record for a while. To be honest, I didn't think I would be gone for a year. I thought it would only take a few weeks. But shit hit the fan harder than expected and I had to drop a lot of my hobbies, including this blog. I still have the stories and what I had written up to that point, but I'd be lying if I said I'd touched them since and I'm honestly not sure if I will again. Maybe some day, but unfortunately today is not that day. Thank you to everyone who left likes, reblogged, or even just read the stories. Thank you especially to everyone who messaged me, telling me the liked my stories, sending me support. But sadly, for now I'm gonna have to actually say goodbye. Best of luck to all of you.-i-writewords

[i-writewords]

bby your writing is amazing <3

thank u bby this means so much to me <3 <3 <3

[i-writewords]

Can I ask when we can expect the next part of A New Class? (I'm not rushing you or anything, I'm just curious ^^)

Probably not for another few weeks, some stuff has come up in my life that has to take priority right now. I promise that I’m not abandoning Sheila and the mercs, though! I’ll finish the next chapter as soon as I can!

[i-writewords]

TF2 - A New Class

Ohmygod this is already to nine parts?? I need to get a life :P

Part six here

Part seven here

Part eight here

.....................................................................................................................

I woke up in the Respawn room again, completely intact.  I rubbed at my throat, swallowing about a dozen times to reassure myself that my head wasn’t currently rolling on the ground by the first control point.

“Rogue, get out here!  We need ye, lass!” Demo’s voice shouted in the earpiece.

There was smoke everywhere—by the looks of things, Soldier or Demo had caved in one of the entrances to where our control point was, choking the BLU team’s efforts to come at us.  They now only had two entrances, both only wide enough for one person at a time, two if you were willing to risk being blown up while you squeezed through.  Engineer had a sentry pointed at one of the entrances, and Heavy and Medic were guarding the other.

“Rogue!” Sniper waved me over from where he was crouching atop a concrete building.  I scrambled up the ramp, not wanting to keep him waiting—apparently he would be dishing out my punishment, and if it was one thing I knew, it was not to keep them waiting.

“Hey, why are you so pale?” he questioned as I crouched down next to him, every muscle in my body tense with nerves.  “Did you go through Respawn again?  Did it not heal something?  Sometimes it does that, miss something.  You should go to Medic to get it checked out, he can heal whatever it is.”

I shook my head, my eyes downcast.  My mind was reeling.  Why was he so concerned about my health?  Did he want me in perfect condition before my punishment began?

He looked me up and down for a second.  “Well, if yer sure yer all right…” He shrugged.  “Listen, there’s one more entrance that we haven’t covered yet—it’s over by the control point.  It’s a small door that leads to another cave entrance.  Go find it and make sure no BLUs get through, okay?”

“But—” I caught myself.  Maybe I wouldn’t be punished until after the mission.  “Okay.”

“But what?” he asked, catching my arm as I made to leave.  I flinched.

“Nothing,” I said, not looking at him.  “I just thought I was going to be punished for failing.”

He frowned at me.  “Why would you—”

“Get down!”  Spy suddenly appeared behind us and shoved us to ground as a rocket exploded above our heads.  “Pay attention, fools!  If you haven’t noticed, we’re working right now!  Do your jobs!”  He touched his watch and disappeared from view.

Sniper swore as he picked himself up from the dirt and spat.  “Spook’s got a point—we’ll talk later.  Go find that entrance, quick!”

“Okay!”  I scrambled up and darted for the control point, looking around the rock face for the opening Sniper had mentioned.  There—off to the left was an opening…

…That the BLU Demo was emerging from.  He didn’t notice me, instead turning and pointing his bomb launcher at my team’s backs.

In one fluid motion, I drew a knife and threw it at him, screaming to get his attention.  He turned in surprise only to have the dagger bury itself in his good eye.  He screamed and staggered around, launching a few bombs blindly in my direction.

I darted forward to avoid the explosives, pulling out another knife to slit his throat and finish him off.  I slipped behind him, holding his corpse up as the bombs he’d shot went off to protect me from shrapnel.

“Not bad, hot stuff,” a Boston accent said.  I whirled to see the BLU Scout emerging from the entrance, hefting his bat on his shoulder.  “Not bad at all!  Why not take up my offer from earlier?”

I yanked out my pistol and shot him twice in the chest before he could move.  “Does that answer your question?” I asked as he fell to the ground.

“Damn,” he choked, clutching his chest as blood pooled around him.  “Hot and deadly.  Yah’d make one helluva—”

I stabbed him in the eye before he could finish his sentence, ramming the knife in hard and deep to make sure he’d die.  When I pulled it back out, his eye came with it.  I scowled in disgust and flicked it off, picking up the bat he’d dropped and swinging it experimentally.

“Not bad,” I murmured as I picked up the BLU Demo’s sticky bomb launcher.  I still had the BLU Spy’s knife in my pocket, and if I remembered correctly, the BLU Heavy’s minigun was still out by the first control point.  Oh yeah, I was definitely going to start a collection—provided that I would be allowed to, after today’s failure with the first control point.

Now that I had a chance to think about it, who would be the one dishing out my punishment?  It was fairly obvious the mercenaries weren’t the ones in charge here.  It seemed like the Administrator, and, to a lesser, extent, Miss Pauling, were.  Maybe one of them had given instructions one what to do when somebody failed?

“Huddaaahhh!”

I jumped and turned to see the Pyro, our Pyro, standing next to me.  “Oh…hey, Pyro,” I said, eyeing him warily.  Was he the BLU Spy in disguise again?

“Hey, Rogue, I set Pyro over to guard the entrance,” Engineer’s voice said through the earpiece.  “How about you go through and see if you can get behind the BLUs and take out a few of them?  We’ve got thirty minutes left in the mission today and we need to make every one count if we’re going to win.”

“Makes sense,” I replied.  “Okay, I’m going.”  I turned to Pyro, handing him the bat and sticky bomb launcher.  “Hold on to these for me, okay?  I’m thinking of starting a collection.”

“Mmffey!” Pyro strapped the bat and bomb launcher to his bandolier, giving me a thumbs up.  I returned it and darted into the cave, knives at the ready incase I ran into any BLUs.

The tunnel was narrow, the only light coming from some fixtures lining the walls.  Cart tracks were scattered on the floor here and there, broken and decaying.  I went as quickly as I dared, not wanting to bump into any BLUs unexpectedly.

I paused, my ears picking up on something.  I tilted my head to the side, concentrating.

There.  Footsteps, hurried footsteps, coming towards me.  I pressed myself against the wall next to the corner and waited.  The footsteps got closer and closer until they were right around the corner.

I stuck my foot out and a blue blur went sprawling to the ground.

“You again!” I said as the BLU Spy hurriedly picked himself up.

“I should be the one saying zhat,” he spat, pulling out his butterfly knife.  “You seem to have an affinity for finding me, fille.”

“That, or you just really, really like dying,” I retorted.  I brandished my own knives.  “Let's find out which, huh?”

He snarled and leaped at me, his knife aiming for my heart.  I sidestepped and rammed my elbow into his side, making him gasp for air.  His arm flew out and clipped my head, disrupting my balance and sending me stumbling into the wall.  I grunted as my shoulder knocked painfully against the rock, turning around so my back was to the wall.

He jumped at me again, one hand outstretched to pin me to the wall.  I ducked his hand and aimed an uppercut at him.  He stumbled back, clutching his jaw and spitting blood.

“Bite your tongue?” I asked, straightening again.  “That's what you get when you don't account for your target being smaller than you.”

He snarled, blood spraying from his lips and onto the floor in front of him.  He tapped his watch and vanished from sight.

I shook my head.  “You should have done that in the first place,” I said, pressing my back against the wall so he wouldn't be able to sneak up behind me.  “You know why?”

I whirled and stabbed at the air on my right—only it wasn't air.  The Spy shimmered into sight, my knife protruding from his chest.  “Because blood leaves a trail,” I snarled softly, indicating to the dark drops on the floor that led from where he'd been standing over to where he was now dying.

He let out a choked laugh, blood and spit running down his chin and chest, soaking his suit.  “Zhat it does,” he grunted.  He reached up and stroked my arm, making me recoil.  “I wonder what trail your blood would lead me to?”

“None of your damn business,” I snapped, yanking my knife out.

“Oh, but it is,” he said, grinning up at me as he clutched the open wound.  “I'm a Spy, remember?  It is my job to know everything about you and your team.  Believe me, fille, whatever you're hiding, I will find out.”

“Who says I'm hiding anything?” I demanded, but it was too late.  He had already passed out from blood loss and was dying faster with each passing second.

I shuddered and wiped my knife off on his pants, the only part of his outfit that wasn't bloodstained.

“I'm really starting to see why Sniper doesn't like you,” I muttered, stepping over the body and continuing on my path.

I made it to the exit, which was about fifty yards away from the first control point.  I could see the other three entrances off on the right, all clustered together.  I watched as the BLU Heavy jogged through the middle entrance, the Medic right behind him with his own version of the Medigun trained on the larger man.  The BLU Scout came barreling out of nowhere after them, shouting something about “making dat bitch pay!”

I looked to my left to see the Soldier and Demoman hurrying toward the caves.  I pulled my pistol out and lined up a shot, waiting until they were in the perfect position, side by side, the Demo hidden behind the Soldier.

BAM.  One powerful bullet, two fragile skulls.  They both slumped to the ground, heads blown through.

I grinned.  That ought to slow things down a bit.

Something bit into my left shoulder and I bit back a scream, retreating into the cave.  I looked around wildly, trying to pinpoint what had hit me.

Dirt flew above my head and I looked up, then out of the cave.  Far off in the distance, I could just barely make out the BLU Sniper standing near his team's base, sniper rifle pointed in my direction.

I gritted my teeth.  So I hadn't been bit, I'd been shot.  And the bastard who’d done it was too far away for me to get a clear shot.  My pistol was powerful enough to hit him, even from this range, but there wasn’t any guarantee that my aim would be that good.  Running at him wasn’t an option, either—I’d be dead within the first few steps out of the cave.

“Spy,” I grunted into the earpiece, “you busy?  I got a job for you.”

“What is it, petit?” the Frenchman replied.

“I’m sitting here in BLU territory with their Sniper pointing his rifle at me.  I can’t get a good shot at him from where I’m at, and he’s messing with my chance to trip his team up.  Can you take care of him for me?”

“Oui.  Give me three minutes.”

I scootched back farther into the cave, betting on the chance that the BLU Sniper wasn’t so different from our own in the fact that he rarely moved around.  It worked—I was now out of his line of sight, and he didn’t adjust.

I pressed a hand to my shoulder.  Blood was oozing out at an alarming rate.  “Shit,” I muttered.  Where was Medic when I needed him?  I felt around the back of my shoulder—the bullet had gone clean through, making the wound that much more dangerous.  I needed to patch it up, fast, or I’d pass out and go through Respawn again.

I took one of my knives and adjusted my shirt so I was able to cut off the bottom half, then cut my pants off at the knees.  I cut the shirt strip in half and wadded them up, pressing against the cave wall the keep the one on my back in place.  My left arm was practically useless.  I could barely move it, and it hurt to do so in the first place.  Still, with a bit of fijiggering (and a lot of help from my mouth), I was able to tie the pant legs under my armpit and above my shoulder, successfully staunching the blood flow, at least for now.

“Zhe bushman has been taken care of,” Spy’s voice buzzed in my ear as I finished tying the last knot.

“Thanks, Spy,” I said, standing up and replacing my knife with my pistol.  “You can go back to…whatever it was you were doing.  If you could sneak me a medkit later, that’d be great.”

“I shall do so, zhen,” he said.  “Trip up as many BLUs as you can, petit.”

“Already planning on it,” I muttered as the BLU Soldier emerged from the base.  I lined up a shot and blew his head off right before he passed by my hiding spot.

I need to move.  The Sniper already knew where I was, and it’d be easy for him to pick me off once he returned.  I needed to find somewhere else to hide and pick them off, plus I was going to run out of ammo soon.

I stuck my head out of the cave and warily looked around.  No BLUs were coming just yet, so I had a bit of time.  Going right wouldn't work, since there was nothing but open plain and the other entrances leading to my team's control point.  On the far left, a few hundred yards away from the BLU base, was a small shack with an ammo crate and—thank whatever deity that was listening—a medkit.

Clutching my left shoulder tight, I hurried for the shack and ducked behind it.  “Don't worry about that medkit, Spy,” I said.  “I just found one.”

Spy grunted acknowledgement as I reached for the box.  My fingers just barely brushed its red, white, and blue lid before it dissolved into a red mist, floating towards my shoulder and repairing any damage.  I sighed in relief as the sharp pain gradually receded and I gained control of my left arm again.  I stripped off the impromptu bandaging and threw it off to the side.

I wasted no time cracking open the ammo crate and reloading my pistol, stuffing my pockets with as many bullets as I could.  Once my pockets were full, I peeked my head around the corner of the shack and waited for my prey.

I didn't have to wait long—the BLU Scout went streaking past my hiding spot, headed for the caves.  I lined up a shot with the back of his head.

BAM.  He jerked forward, landing face first into the dirt.  The BLU Heavy came jogging up behind, stopping and staring at the younger man's corpse in puzzlement.  I shot him in the jaw, making his scream of pain come out more like a loud gurgle.  One more shot to the temple and he slumped on top of the Scout's body, over three hundred pounds of dead weight.

“Heavy is dead!” a German voice shouted, and the BLU Medic came rushing up to the scene, Medigun in hand.

BAM.  Three down, six more to go.  I wondered idly for a moment where the BLU Spy was.  Shouldn't he have Respawned by now?

A flash of red caught my eye and I saw Soldier, our Soldier, jogging toward the entrances leading back to our base.  Only he was coming from the wrong direction; he was coming from the BLU base.

“There you are,” I muttered, and lined up a shot.

“Found ya,” a voice said behind me.  I jumped and whirled to see the BLU Sniper standing behind me, leering down at me and brandishing his short sword.  “Oi figured you'd move over to here.”

“Didn't think you were that smart,” I said, studying him warily.  Gotta keep him talking, get his guard down.

“Oh?  And why is that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  Keep him talking, keep him talking.

I shrugged.  “You look like our Sniper, and he's not exactly the brightest crayon in the box.  I figured you two weren't so different.”

He snorted.  “Don't mistake me for that bastard RED, Sheila.  We may look aloike and have the same job, but that's where the similarities end.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I said.  His guard was down, now was my chance!

I kicked the sword out of his hand and brought my gun up to his face.  “You're stupid enough to talk to somebody before you kill them.  The RED Sniper wouldn't make that mistake.”  I shot him between the eyes, snatched up his sword, and ran for their base.  Time for a suicide mission.

“Come and get me, you talentless hacks!” I screamed as I charged the base, reloading my pistol as I went.  “I've come across decomposed bodies that are less offensive than you empty-headed kooks!  I'm gonna cut you all up and paint the walls of your base with your blood!  A nice, DEEP, RED!”

That got their attention.  The Soldier and Demoman rushed out of the base, looking around wildly.

“Over here, you tin-can psycho!  Betcha couldn't hit the broadside of a barn with that ramshackle shit-heap of a rocket launcher!”  I shot the Soldier in the chest just as he turned to see me, dodged a bomb the Demo had launched at me, and kept going.  “And as for you, you bumbling Irish Cyclops!”

“AH AIN'T AYERISH!” he shouted, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and swinging it at my head.  I ducked the blow and backhanded him with the butt of my pistol.

“Stu-pid, De-mo, doesn't even try-y,” I sang, “W-H-I-S-K-E-Y!”  On the “Y” I shot him in his good eye.

“Is that all you cowards got?” I screamed.  “A stupid pig and a dirty, one-eyed Scotsman who can't hold his liquor?  I've fought Frenchmen with more guts than you!”

“Say zhat again, fille,” an obnoxious accent said from behind me.  I turned and faced the BLU Spy, fresh from Respawn.

“I've fought Frenchmen with more guts than you, you backstabbing whore,” I snarled.  “I'll bet you're not even French.  I'll bet you're just a stupid Englishman pretending to be French!”

His face turned red in anger.  “Take.  Zhat.  Back.”

“Nah.”  I pulled out a knife and slashed at his throat, making him jerk away.  “I only say it because it's true!”

“JE NE SUIS PAS UN ANGLAIS DE MERDE!” the Spy roared, pulling out his own knife and angrily trying to stab me.  I sidestepped his attack and rammed my own weapon into his ribcage, stabbing him in the heart.

“You wanted to know what I'm hiding, Spy?” I asked as he collapsed against me, choking on his own blood.  “I'm hiding some really, really bad anger issues.”  I shoved him off of me and wiped my knife off on my pants.

“Uh-oh.”

I looked up.  The BLU Heavy, Pyro, and Scout were all standing a couple yards away, watching me.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” I asked.  “A walking freak show, a Yankees fan, and a stupid bear from a Russian circus.”

The Heavy snorted as the Scout gesticulated wildly in mute anger.  “If you are going to insult, do it right.  Hooy morzhovy is better insult than bear.”

I raised an eyebrow.  “Care to translate, chubby?”

“Walrus dick.”  He hefted his minigun and pointed it at me.  “Which you will be size of very, very soon.”

“Oh, I don't doubt that,” I said.  I looked over at the Scout.  “Hey baseball-for-brains, how are the White Sox doing?”

“It's the RED Sox you stupid bitch!” he snapped, hefting his baseball bat.  “Oh, that's it, I'm gonna clobber you!”

I motioned to him with two fingers.  “Come and get it, punk.”

He screamed and charged, his arm cocked back to brain me with his bat.  I brought my knee up and jammed it into his stomach before he could take his first swing.  He grunted and stumbled back, trying to get his breath.

“DIE, tiny baby girl!”

“Shit!”  I grabbed the Scout by the collar of his shirt and held him in front of me, pinning his arm to his back.  “Don't shoot, or you'll kill your teammate!”

The Heavy laughed.  “You think that bothers me?” he asked, his minigun barrel whirling menacingly.  “I do not care if baby Scout dies!  He will come back!”

“Yeah, but I doubt the Administrator would take so kindly to friendly fire,” I said, adjusting my grip on the wriggling Scout.  “Hold the fuck still!”

“She does not care, so long as job is done,” the Heavy said.  “Good-bye, tiny baby girl.  At least, for now.”

“Fuck!”  Desperately, I shoved the Scout at the Heavy and dove for the Pyro.  Right now, he was the lesser of two evils.

Said Lesser-Of-Two-Evils was hefting a fireman’s ax high in the air, ready to chop my head off.  I shrieked and twisted away at the very last second, the ax just barely missing my arm and digging deep into the ground.

While the Pyro struggled to retrieve his weapon, the Heavy was busy disentangling his team’s Scout from his.  “Get off!” the giant man snarled, shaking the gun.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy!” the Scout cried, trying to wrench his arm free.

“Huddah!”  Arms wrapped around me from behind and I screamed, trying to wriggle free.  The Pyro was stronger than he looked, though, and I couldn’t break his grip.

The Heavy saw what had happened to me and grinned maliciously, setting his minigun down and coming over to inspect us.  “Got you now,” he said, reaching with one massive paw and picking my up by the neck.  Pyro let go and the Heavy lifted me into the air, a good two feet from the ground.  “I think we owe you payback, da?”

“Now, that just plain ain’t fair,” a familiar Texas drawl said.  I looked over from my struggling to see Engie, Heavy, Medic, Scout, Pyro, and Sniper standing a few yards away, weapons all pointed at the three BLUs.  “Big fella like you, picking on a l’il gal like our Rogue.”  He cocked his shotgun.

“Put the Sheila down, big-head,” Sniper growled, hefting his rifle.  “Or Oi’m gonna blow the inside of yer head all over four counties.”

“Then let us see which is faster—your bullet, or my hand!” the Heavy challenged, tightening his grip around my throat.  I squeaked, trying to pry his fingers away from my neck feebly before I suffocated.

Suddenly the Heavy screamed in pain and I fell to the ground, gasping.

“Oops, zat vas not medicine,” Medic taunted, switching what looked like a crossbow that shot syringes for his Medigun.  The BLU Heavy yanked a syringe from his hand, only to have a bullet tear through his head.

“Told ya Oi’d blow yer head all over four counties if ya didn’t drop her,” Sniper snarled, lowering his rifle again.  He turned to me.  “You all roight there, Rogue?”

“Fine,” I gasped, chest still heaving.  “Just a little lightheaded.  Who’s watching the point?”

“Spy and the others have got it under control,” Scout said, stepping forward and brandishing his own bat.  “We was gettin’ bored, though, since no BLUs were coming through, so we decided to come help yah.”

“Good thing, too, darlin’, or you woulda been sent back to Respawn, by the looks of it,” Engie said.  He swung his shotgun to the side a bit.  “Back up, mumbles.  Y’all might be flame retardant, but ya sure ain’t bulletproof.”

The Pyro cocked his head to the side, seeming to be considering his options.  He had pulled out his flamethrower and was pointing it at me.

“I won’t say it again, son,” Engie said.  “Back.  Up.”

The Pyro wisely dropped his weapon and backed up, hands in the air.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!  This is bullshit!” the BLU Scout cried, having finally pried his hand away from his Heavy's minigun.  “We were having tha winnin' streak of our lives, and all of tha sudden, some fifty-cent whore you guys bought gets lost on tha battlefield somehow and you guys suddenly get good?  This is bullshit!  This can't be legal!”

“Vell, technically, none of zis is legal,” Medic pointed out, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Mmd ees mo mmfmmf ffent ffo,” our Pyro grunted.  “Ees Foo!”

The BLU Scout stared at us before spitting.  “Whatever!  This still ain't right!”

“There's a lot of things about this set up that ain't right,” I said, standing up and reloading my pistol.  “But if you want my honest opinion, loudmouth...” I leveled the barrel to his head.  “Me being here is the last thing on the list.”

I smirked and the Scout stared at me in mixed disgust and horror as the Administrator announced a victory for RED.  The Scout snarled.  “I'm gonna get you back for this!”

“Yeah, yeah, wait til tomorrow, jackrabbit,” I said, and shot him between the eyes.

...............

“Nice job out there today, Roo,” Sniper said as I entered the rec room a couple hours later.  I locked myself in the bathroom soon after we had returned to the base, muttering something about needing a shower.  In truth, I just wanted to be able to prepare myself for whatever punishment I was going to face for losing the first control point.

I froze and slowly turned to look at him.  “What did you just call me?”

He grinned devilishly.  “Roo.  Y’know, as in kangaroo?  Because you were hopping all over the field today!”

I gave a small snort of contempt.  “Says the man cooped up in a cage all day, like a canary.”  Surely they would have punished me by now if they were mad or disappointed in my performance, right?  They would have gotten me out of the bathroom, or had even prevented me from hiding in there in the first place, right?

“Oi more around!” he protested, bringing me back to the present.

“Only when the BLU Spy backstabs you.”

Scout was laughing so hard at this point that he was rolling on the floor.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Engineer trying to suppress his laughter.  Pyro was looking at us curiously, not fully understanding what was going on.  Heavy was chortling from his seat on the couch, with Demo giggling madly and muttering “Roo” and “Canary” to himself.  There was some serious giggling and snorting coming from one not-so-empty corner of the room, as well.  Soldier looked completely lost as to what was going on and was demanding that Engineer explain it to him.

Sniper was blushing a bit.  “Maybe I should call you Koala instead,” he growled.  “Since you like hanging off of Heavy so much.”

“That makes you a giraffe, then, long-neck.”

He stood up, really getting into this.  “Flea-bitten squirrel!”

“That’s more Scout’s thing, you stupid dingo!”

“Dingo’s aren’t stupid!  They’ve got more brains than hyenas like you!”

“At least my brain isn’t the size of a grape, you ostrich!”

“Turkey!”

“Flamingo!”

I’m not sure who threw the first punch—it might have been me, it might have been Sniper, or we might have tried to punch each other at the same time.  Still, five minutes later we ended up on the floor, kicking and punching and hissing and spitting.

It was Spy that got us to stop.  Or rather, got Sniper to stop.  The sneak decloaked from his position in the corner and sniggered, “Most definitely a pair of kangaroos.”

Sniper turned redder than his shirt at that comment and let me go like I was a hot pan.  He scrambled back, blushing hard.

I sat up and frowned at Spy.  “What does that mean?”

Spy just smiled coyly and lit a cigarette.  “Why don’t you ask the canary over there?”

I looked back at Sniper, who was sputtering.  “I—they—it’s just—Goddammit Spook!”  Sniper stood up and hurried out of the rec room, tugging his hat low on his head.  Spy cracked up as soon as Sniper slammed the door behind him, and none of us could get him to stop so he could explain.

............... 

“Sniper?” I called softly, rapping my knuckles against the closed door of the camper van.  “Sniper, I know you’re in there, let me in.”

There came a grunt.  “Go away, Rogue.”

“Sniper, please, I’m sorry about what I said earlier.  And for what Spy said.  Please let me in.”

I heard a heavy sigh before the van rocked back and forth a bit and the door opened.  I blinked at the sight of Sniper, who had forgone his normal red work shirt for an undershirt and was holding a cold beer up to his face.  I winced.  “Sorry.”

“Weren’t yer fault,” he mumbled, backing away so I could climb in after him.  “What Spook said, Oi mean.  It weren’t yer fault.  This was, though.”  He gestured to the beer and chuckled.  “Ya got a mean left hook, Roo.”

“Sorry.”  I was fighting every instinct to run, run far away and avoid this completely.  But I knew running would only make it worse.  I hadn’t moved from my position in the doorway, one hand crushing the other.

He gingerly moved the beer away from his face, revealing a growing black eye.  “Something wrong, Sheila?” he asked, using the name nobody had called me for the past few days.

I tried not to duck my head when the hand holding the beer moved and failed.  “This—This is the part where you punish me, right?  For failing today?”

He stared at me.  “Wot the bloody hell are you going on about?”

“I’m the one who made us lose the first control point today,” I said, staring at the floor.  “It’s my fault we didn’t get a perfect victory.  I’m supposed to be punished.”

A beat passed before he cried, “Wot the bloody hell kind of contract did you sign with Miss Pauling?!  That’s absolute bullshit!  Oi’m getting on the phone with the Administrator roight fucking now—”

He went to push past me so he could get out of the camper van.  On instinct, I flinched away from his touch, so hard that I banged my hip hard against the counter.  I gasped, biting my lip to keep from shouting.

He stopped, staring at me and where his hand was resting on my arm.  “Sheila,” he murmured.  “Have you been hit before?  For being—punished?”  He practically spat the last word.

“Every person who does not do their job correctly needs to be punished in order for them to learn that failure is unacceptable,” I murmured on instinct.  I clenched my jaw, inwardly reprimanding myself.  No one was supposed to know—not one person on this base.  Memories were threatening to break through, pushing at every little crack in my concentration that was holding them back.

His hand started moving upward and I closed my eyes, ready for the hit that was coming—only it didn’t.  There was a soft, gentle touch to my cheek and I hesitantly opened my eyes again.  He had moved back so that he was an arm’s length away now, and I had my back to the door so I could easily turn and escape.  He stared straight into my eyes.  “Sheila,” he said softly, running his thumb along my cheek.  “Who hurt you?”

It was all too much—his gentleness, the memories, the anxiety over the beating that wasn’t coming; I clapped my hands over my ears, screamed one short howl, and passed out.

 ............

Sniper caught her as she fell, completely out.  He clenched his jaw.  This certainly explained her reaction upon first waking up in the lab.

He picked her up and maneuvered her over to the small bed in his van, making sure she was comfortable and safe before turning on his heel and leaving to look for Medic, making sure to lock the door so none of the others could get in.

He found the German where he usually was—in his lab.  He poked his head in and crooked a finger.  “Need yer help, doc.”  Medic gave him a curious look but followed anyway, discreetly grabbing a few bandages and salves and hiding them on his person.

“Vat is it, Sniper?” Medic asked as Sniper led him to the van.

Sniper shook his head.  “Not yet, wait til we’re there.”  He ignored the doctor’s growing curiosity.

He unlocked the door to his van and motioned for Medic to go first.  “In here.  It’s Rogue.”

At the mention of their newest teammate’s title Medic all but leapt into the van and dashed for the girl currently passed out on Sniper’s bed.  Sniper followed more slowly, leaning against the small counter with his arms crossed as Medic produced a stethoscope and began to give the girl a thorough check.

“She seems fine,” Medic said, removing the stethoscope from his ears and letting it hang around his neck.  The look made him seem more like doctor and not insane mercenary psychopath that Sniper had to blink to remind himself who the other man was.  “Her breathing and heartbeat are a little faster zan normal, however.  Vhy did you bring me here?”

“I got a question for ya, doc,” Sniper said.  “Those scars on her back that ya told me about—they’re not self-inflicted, are they?”

“No,” Medic said slowly.  “If anything, zey look like abuse scars, possibly given to her by a family member…” Medic watched as Sniper’s face grew dark.  “I take it zat is vhy she is currently asleep on your bed?”

“She fainted,” Sniper explained, trying to keep the rage out of his voice.  “She came in here to apologize for calling me names earlier—I was going to apologize, too—and said something about being punished.  I thought it was a part of her contract and got mad.  She was standing here, in front of the door, and I made to move past her and she flinched hard, like I was gonna hit her.  I asked her who hurt her, and she fainted on the spot.”

Medic rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “Zis is very interesting,” he muttered, taking Rogue’s pulse again.  “Vat exactly did she say about being punished, can you remember?”

“ ‘Every person who does not do their job correctly needs to be punished in order for them to learn that failure is unacceptable,’ ” Sniper quoted.  “That’s it, word for bleeding word.”

Medic frowned.  “She has been conditioned.”

“Wot?”

“I vill not repeat myself.  Rogue has been subject to conditioning torture, to abuse.  She has been taught to zhink zis vay, zat ven she fails she must be punished.  And, from vat I can tell, she has also been conditioned so far to the point that she has developed a form of anxiety about it.  She is, quite literally, damaging herself from vithin before ze damage from vithout can take place.”  Medic shook his head.  “Though I have no idea vhy she vould be conditioned like zis, I know it can take years for ze effects to even begin to vear off.”

“It is a technique used in many spy rings,” a familiar French voice said next to Sniper, who jumped so high he banged his head on the roof of his van.

“God fucking dammit, Spook, why can’t you enter like a normal person?!” Sniper growled as he rubbed the forming bump on his head.  “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

Spy casually exhaled smoke and flicked the ashes of his cigarette in the tray next to him.  “Simple, I followed you and the doctor in when you unlocked the door.  And as for your first question, no, I cannot.  I am a Spy, remember?”

Sniper opened his mouth to retaliate, but Medic cut him off.  “You said you might know vhy our Rogue is like this, Spy?”

“Oui.  Conditioning such as zhis is used in many spy rings, mostly freelancers.  It keeps zhem loyal to whomever zheir higher-ups are, rather zhan zhe clients.  It also improves performance on missions, because zhe receivers of zhe conditioning fear failure more zhan zhey fear death.”

Sniper stared.  “And you know this how?”

“Ask me no questions and I shall tell you no lies, bushman,” Spy all but growled.

Sniper held up his hands in the universal gesture for peace.  “Sorry I asked,” he muttered.  He turned back to Medic and Rogue.  “Still…is this gonna be a problem on the field?  Ain’t no way the Administrator’s gonna tolerate it if Roo loses it on the field.”

Medic shook his head.  “I do not zink so, no.  From what I can tell, it will only be after ze missions zat she vill do zis.  Ve vill just need to be careful around her and gradually introduce her to ze idea zat she vill not be punished for every mistake she makes.”

“How’re we gonna do that?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Spy said.  “We just keep winning.”

.....................................................................................................................

Translations:

Pyro: "And she's no fifty-cent whore! She's Rogue!"

BLU Spy: "I am not a shitty Englishman!"

[i-writewords]

miss-twila said: I’m loving this story I liked the way you described the battle and how you represent the Scouts ^^

Thank you! I wasn't too sure about the battle scenes, they're really hard to write and are pretty much why it took me so long to update .-. Scouts are easy though, just think insecure mama's boy who thinks he's tough shit (and can be, on occasion).

[i-writewords]

TF2 - A New Class

Oh hey look an update

Part five here

Part six here

Part seven here

Part nine here

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“I’m sorry,” my mouth whispered of it’s own accord.

Crack!

I screamed as the whip licked across my back, opening another wound to mix with the blood already streaming down.  “You should be,” a horribly familiar voice whispered.

“You did wrong,” another said, and they both stepped forward so I could see their faces.

I stared at them in horror before clamping my hands over my ears and screaming.

 ……….

I woke myself up with as loud as I was shouting.  I jerked upright, clutching my hands to my chest and double-checking to be sure they weren’t manacled.  I was so relieved when they weren’t I nearly passed out.  I slumped against the wall, not ready to lie down on my back until the phantom pains left.

There was a soft tap at the door.  “Uh, Rogue?” came Scout’s unsure voice.  “Hey, I uh—I heard you shoutin’.  You all right?  Want me to bring you, I dunno, some warm milk or somethin’?”

“Warm milk?” I muttered to myself.  “Seriously?”  It did sound good, though.  Clutching my arm, I slithered out of the bed and stumbled over to the door, the adrenaline from my nightmare wearing off.

Scout blinked in surprise when I opened the door.  “So, uh, warm milk?” he asked nervously.  I just nodded.  “Right.  Okay.  Right.  Um…” Clearly he hadn’t been expecting me to accept the offer.  “Come on, let’s go sit in the kitchen.”

I followed him silently to the kitchen, where I slumped into a chair as he busied himself with warming up some milk in the microwave.  He chewed his lip nervously as the microwave hummed, trying to look everywhere but me and failing.  I just stared at the microwave.

“Do you, um…d’you wanna, I dunno, talk about why you were screamin’ or anythin’?” Scout asked, nervously drumming his fingers on the counter.

“Nightmare,” was all I said.

“Oh.”  The microwave dinged and he quickly pushed a cup of the warm milk over to me.  “There ya go.  That should help.”  He took a few sips of his own.  I just stared at mine.

“So, um…” I lifted my eyes to Scout, who fidgeted.  “What was your nightmare about?”

The breath caught in my throat and I jerked my gaze back down to my cup.  I couldn’t tell him.  I couldn’t tell anyone.  It was bad enough that Medic had seen the scars and had told Sniper about them.  I couldn’t let anyone else on the team know.

“Okaaayyy, bad question,” Scout mumbled into his cup.  He sipped at his milk some more.

“Why are you awake?” I asked suddenly.

He jumped.  “I, uh…what?”

“Why are you awake?” I repeated.

“Oh.  I just couldn’t sleep,” he said.  “Miss my ma, y’know?”  He blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck.  “It sounds stupid, but…I miss her a lot.  Some days more than others.  I mean, I know she’s doin’ good, cuz I send her money and everythin’, but it’s not the same as knowin’, as actually bein’ there, y’know?  We hardly ever get time off, besides the weekends, but that’s not enough time to fly out to Boston and visit, really…I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

“A bit,” I murmured, letting go of my arm and propping my head on my hand instead.  “Your mom…she a nice lady?”

“The best,” he said, his chest puffing out with a bit of pride.  “She raised eight boys, including me.  I’m the youngest, y’know, that’s why I’m so fast—had to keep ahead of my brothers.”

“Mmm.  She married?”  I stirred my milk with a finger, still not quite ready to drink it.

He scowled.  “Nah.  She’s only been married twice, both times to assholes.  Divorced ‘em both.  Had boyfriends left and right though.  My brothers and me, we’ve all got different dads, ‘cept the twins, obviously, and me and my twin.  It’s okay, though, cuz she says she’s got us boys and she’s happy with us.”  He downed the last of his milk.  “What about you?  You got a ma?”  He grimaced.  “Okay, stupid question, I know, but…what’s your ma like?”

I stopped stirring my milk, watching it slowly swirl until it stopped.  “She’s dead.”

Scout’s jaw dropped, but he quickly clamped it shut.  “Oh,” he said.  “I, uh…sorry to hear that, Rogue.”

“Mmm.”  Memories were poking at the back of my mind, threatening to break through.  No.  Shut up.  I don’t need you right now.

“Rogue?  Hey, Rogue?”  Scout waved a hand in front of my face.  “Yo, Rogue?  You all right?  Gonna drink your milk?”

“Ah!”  I blinked, sitting back again.  “Ah…no.”  I pushed the glass to him.  “Thanks, though.”  I stood up.  “I’m going back to bed.  See you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” he said as I exited the kitchen.  “See ya…”

When I reached Sniper’s room that I was still borrowing, I just flopped face first onto the bed and fell back asleep.

 ……..

“Ptichka!  Ptichka, wake up!  It is time for battle!”  Heavy none too lightly knocked on the door.

I groaned and rolled over.  “Five more minutes…”

“Now is not sleep time, ptichka!” Heavy admonished.  “Now is battle time!  Get up, we go crush tiny baby men!”

“Right, right, I’ll crush them in a minute,” I mumbled.  The door opened and I sat up.  “Hey, how did you—oh.”

Sniper stood in the doorway, his spare key in his hand and Heavy smiling at me over his shoulder.  “Up and at ‘em, Rogue,” he said.  “Time to go to work.”

“Why so early?” I moaned, flopping back and covering my face with my pillow.  “Yesterday we didn’t start til the afternoon!”

“It’s control points today,” Sniper said.  “These can take hours, so we start early.  Now get up and get dressed, Medic’s made some pancakes for you to eat before we head out.”

“Pancakes?”  I sat back up.  “Get out you perverts, let me get dressed!”

Sniper rolled his eyes and Heavy grinned broadly.  “Da, we will leave now!  See you soon, ptichka!”  Heavy grabbed the smaller man and tugged him away, shutting the door.

I sighed and stretched.  Now that I was awake, I didn’t have much of a choice but to get ready and go eat those promised pancakes.  I snatched up a clean uniform shirt from the pile of where I’d dumped them when Miss Pauling had delivered my stuff.  It was a red short-sleeve shirt with yellow patches on the arms, like the ones the guys wore.  The only difference was my patches were of an open hand, rather than a closed fist, like Heavy’s.

I yanked the shirt over my head and switched Sniper’s shorts (I had decided to keep them as pajamas, out of spite) for my normal black pants.  I pulled my combat boots on, tucking the end of my pants into the tops of the boots.  I double-checked to make sure I had my revolver and a cache of throwing knives, then headed to the kitchen for my promised breakfast.

“Ah, zere you are, mein lieber,” Medic said, looking up from where he was finishing up the batch.  “Your pancakes are over on ze counter.”  He pointed to a plate with the spatula.  “Eat quickly, we don’t have much time before ze mission.”

“Thanks, Medic.”  I inhaled my pancakes as fast as I could.  After the mission yesterday, and my leg being healed, my appetite in the mornings was growing.  I ate two out of the three pancakes Medic had saved for me.  “Here, throw this in the fridge with the rest.  I’m going to head out.”

“Bitte, vait, I vill come vith you, just let me put zese avay.”  I waited as Medic shoved the leftover pancakes in a bag and put them in the fridge.  “Come, let us go and defeat those Schweinhund BLU’s!”

“Right!”  I followed the doctor to the locker room, where Medic collected his weapons.

“Come, ze others are probably already at the control point,” he said after adjusting the Medigun pack on his back.

“How do you do this mission, then?” I asked as I padded after him.  “I mean, the intelligence one was pretty straightforward, easy to figure out.  But control point?”

“Zere are two discs we must defend,” Medic said.  “Ve can’t let ze other team stand on zem for too long, otherwise ze point becomes captured.  If zey capture both control points, we lose.  Depending on how good our defense is, it can take anyvere from a few minutes to all day long.  And, once a point has been captured, ve can’t take it back.”

“Sounds…difficult,” I said.

“It can be,” he said.  “But I’m confident ve vill prevail today.”  He grinned at me.  “Ve have something they don’t—you.”

“Yeah, well,” I blushed, scratching the back of my head, “it’s not like I’m a big secret anymore, not after yesterday.  They’ll know I’m here today.”

“But you are one more person zat zey do not have,” he pointed out.  “You are, as our dear Heavy would say, a credit to ze team.”

“We’ll find out today, won’t we?” I asked as we reached the first control point.  The others, like Medic had predicted, were already there, in varying positions around it.  Heavy and Soldier were standing on the larger silver disc, while Demo was busy shooting sticky bombs all around it.  Scout was fiddling with his scattergun eagerly, blowing a few bubbles with his gum.  Pyro was hefting his flamethrower above his head and cheering, for what, I wasn’t sure.  Engineer was farther back, finishing upgrading a sentry to its full potential, with a dispenser next to it.  Spy and Sniper were the only ones not present.  I figured Spy was over by their base, either cloaked or disguised as one of them, and Sniper had found a place to roost.

“Mission begins in sixty seconds,” the Administrator’s voice buzzed in our earpieces.

“Remember, don’t let them stand on the point,” Engineer told me, looking up from his sentry.

“I know,” I said, pulling out my pistol and positioning myself on top of some crates piled off to the side.

“Everybody in position?” Spy’s voice crackled.  Everyone chorused affirmatives.  “Good.  Let’s make zhis another win, eh?”

Everyone cheered as the Administrator warned us we had thirty seconds until the mission started.  Scout ran around and gave everyone high fives, even speeding off to give one to Sniper and Spy.  He made it back to the control point just in time to hear the Administrator count down, “Five…four…three…two…one!”

The siren went off, alerting us that the BLU’s were inbound.  The second a group of heads crested the hill, Scout took off, blasting his scattergun, and Heavy heaved Sasha up and began spraying bullets.  I aimed my pistol, shooting at every opportunity the other team gave me.  There were a few screams as the gunfire ate them up, all except for one pair.

“Their Heavy and Medic are Uber’d!” Scout screamed, rushing back to the dispenser for a medkit.

It was true.  The opposing team’s Heavy and Medic were coated in a bright, metallic blue light, and bullets seemed to just bounce off of them.

“Hold them back!” Engineer shouted, repairing his sentry.  Demo was shooting bombs left and right at the pair, and Soldier was using up all his rockets, but it didn’t affect them.  They kept coming, slowly but surely, towards us.

Suddenly the Heavy turned toward me and began shooting.  I yelped and jumped from my position on the crates, ducking behind our Heavy.  One of the bullets clipped my arm and I cried out, but it had only grazed me.

“Doctor!  Ptichka!  Stay behind me!” our Heavy shouted over the whirling of his gun.  Medic was still training the Medigun on him, doing his best to keep the big guy alive.

“The Ubercharge is wearing off!” Demo shouted and I peeked around Heavy to see the blue light that surrounded the other pair was flickering.

“Hold still for a second, Big Bird!” I cried, and clambered up Heavy’s back.  Wrapping one arm around his neck and my legs around his middle, I threw my other arm over his shoulder and aimed at the other team.  Two seconds later, the effects of the Ubercharge were gone, and Demo and Soldier made quick work of the giant in front of us.  Their Medic screamed for a second before two of my bullets entered and exited his body, one in the chest and one in the head.

Heavy cheered.  “Well done, ptichka!” he cried as I slid off his back.

“You’re the one who did most of the work,” I said, hurrying over to inspect what was left of the bodies.  The other Heavy’s gun was the only thing completely intact, if a little dusty from its fall.

I frowned at it and tried to pick it up.  “Ack, way too big!” I grunted when I couldn’t lift it more than half an inch.

“Incoming!” Demo shouted, gesturing to the fresh wave of enemies, now back from their own Respawn.

“Shit.”  I frowned at the gun again before an idea struck me.  I pushed the barrel of the gun around so it was facing the other team, then placed my feet on it, one in the front, and the other in the back.  I crouched down and gripped it like Heavy did, ready to start firing.

The first to crest the hill was their team’s Soldier.  As soon as he was within range, I held down the trigger.

I’m not sure what I was expecting.  The gun fired, but it was so powerful it started moving of its own accord.  It bounced up and down on the ground, blurring my vision so I couldn’t be sure which BLU it was I was shooting at, but I could definitely tell when I hit one, because red started to mix in with the sky blue of their uniforms.

“This is awesome!” I shouted over the gunfire, cackling.  When the gun finally ran out of bullets and stopped bouncing around, I could see I had killed the Soldier and Demo of the other team, and had injured the Scout.  I had also somehow managed to travel ten feet forward and to the right, having put a few bullet holes in the other Engineer’s sentry.

“Rogue!  Look out!” Scout screamed.  “Spy!”

I whirled to see the BLU Spy glowering at me, his knife poised to strike.  I kicked out, hitting him in the stomach and forcing him back.  He didn’t drop his knife, though.  I pulled out one of my own and slashed at his throat over and over, making him back up defensively.  He blocked one of my slashes with his own knife, grabbing my wrist with his free hand.  He snarled and dropped his knife, reaching for the revolver at his waist.

Suddenly a bullet tore through the side of his head and he slumped to the ground, dead.

“Yer welcome fer that, Rogue,” Sniper’s voice crackled in my ear.

“Yeah, thanks, but I had it handled,” I said.

“Whatever.  Keep those BLU’s off our point!”

“Right!”  I picked up the dropped butterfly knife, pocketing it and making a mental note to ask Heavy to help me drag the abandoned machine gun back to the base later.  I felt like starting a collection.

“Help!” I heard Demo shout, and I dashed toward the sound of his voice.  I rounded the corner to see him between a wall and a Pyro, who was brandishing their flamethrower menacingly.

“Hey!  Over here!” I shouted, whipping out one of my knives and throwing it as hard as I could.  It lodged itself in the Pyro’s arm, making it grunt and whirl to face me.

“Yeah, that’s right, over here,” I snarled with more confidence than I had.  “Demo, run!”

“Like hell!” Demo shouted, brandishing a broken Scrumpy bottle and swinging at the enemy.  The Pyro made a grunt of pain and turned back to Demo, shooting a bit of flame at the bomb maker.

“Demo, no!” I screamed, and pulled out my pistol.  I shot at the firebug three times, only managing to hit him in the side once.  Demo, who had caught fire, was screaming in pain and trying to put his arm out.

The Pyro turned back to me, now angrier than before.  Don’t ask me how I knew, it just seemed like it.  It hefted the flamethrower in my direction and charged.

I shrieked and ducked out of the way, fumbling to reload my pistol.  Before I could, a foot kicked me from behind and I went sprawling, my pistol bouncing out of my pocket and out of my reach.  I threw a glance over my shoulder to see the Pyro standing there, flamethrower pointed at my back.  I clamped my eyes shut and hoped death by fire was quick.

It wasn’t.  Ever watched a piece of paper burn?  You know how it curls up right before the fire eats it away?  That’s what my skin did.  I screamed in terror and pain as my skin peeled and shrunk under the flames.  The fire licked its way up my body, completely engulfing me.  The heat was unbearable—I could feel myself cooking.  The Pyro did a little dance as I stared in horror, the pain engulfing my mind…I couldn’t stay conscious…

…Then, the next thing I knew, I was in the Respawn room, completely intact.  I looked myself over, patting at my clothes.  There weren’t any flames—there wasn’t even ash.  I was completely whole again.

“Rogue!  Rogue, where are you?” Sniper’s voice sounded panicked over the earpiece.

“In the Respawn room,” I replied, standing up.  “I, uh, died, I guess.”

“Who got you, petit?” Spy joined in.

“Their Pyro,” I said, checking to make sure I still had all my weapons and exiting the room, hurrying back to the battle.  “He burned me to a crisp—or at least I thought he did.”

“Aye, he burned ye, alright,” Demo’s voice crackled.  “But I blew the bastard up!  Served him right!”

“Thanks, Demo,” I said.  “How many are at the control point, you guys?”

“Four,” Sniper said.  “Their Demo, Scout, Soldier, and Heavy are—” there was a boom from his end “—make that their Demo, Soldier, and Scout.  They’re running around, trying to get us off the point.  Rogue, be careful of the—AGH!”

“Sniper?!” I asked, hesitating.  “Sniper?!”

“He has been done in by zheir Spy, petit,” our Spy said, appearing behind me.  I jumped and resisted the urge to stab him.  “Zhe bushman only shouts like zhat when he’s been backstabbed.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” I muttered.  “Come on, let’s keep hurry to the point.”

“Oui.”  Spy pulled on a mask that had the enemy Soldier’s face on it.  I raised an eyebrow at his shitty disguise but didn’t question it, just hurried back to the others.

“Rogue!  Over here!” Engineer cried when he spotted me.  He waved me over and pointed to their Soldier, who was blasting rockets at his own feet and shooting himself up into the air.  “Take care of him for me, would you?  He keeps blowing up my sentries and I can’t get a good shot at him!”

“On it!” I said, and rushed away.  The BLU Soldier was in mid-rocket-jump and I positioned myself so he would land right in front of me.

He did, looking rather surprised to find me standing there, smiling at him.  “Hello,” he said, sounding unsure.

“Goodbye,” I replied, and stabbed him in the neck.  He let out a choked gurgle as I withdrew my knife and wiped it on his jacket, his blood spilling all over the ground.

As I stood up, something whizzed by my head, clipping my ear.  “Ow!  The hell?”

“Rogue!” Scout yelled, tackling me to the ground as a bullet hit the dirt behind us.  “Snipes, your double is aiming for us!  Take care of him!”  He yanked me to my feet and dragged me over to a pile of wood, ducking behind it.

“Zhe Sniper is in Respawn still,” Spy’s voice told us through the earpiece.  “I will take care of zheir bushman.  You two guard zhe point!”

“How have you not died yet?” I asked as Scout and I raced back to the control point.

“Me?  I’ve died lots of times this round, are you kidding?  At least ten times!”  He seemed completely unbothered by this and began shooting his scattergun in random directions.

“You’re kidding,” I said as I pulled out my pistol and shot their Demo between the eyes, who had been about to slice Scout up with a giant sword.

“Ah!  Thanks!” Scout said.  “And yeah.  I’m first outta the gate, first to die.  You get used to it!”  We both winced as bullets grazed us—the other Scout was still around, darting in and out among the various crates and blasting at us with his own scattergun.  “Stay here, I’m gonna go take care of that chucklenuts!”  He dashed off, screaming insults at his look-alike.

There was movement in the corner of my eye and I turned to see Pyro, our Pyro, standing behind me, tilting his head curiously.

“Hey,” I said, giving him an unsure smile.  “So, uh…it’s up to us to hold the point, huh?”

He tilted his head the other way.

“…Right.”  I turned around to check on how Scout was doing.  He and his double were just a blur, running circles around each other and spraying lead everywhere.  “Hey, Pyro, when the others get here, do you think you can—AH!”

I had stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the battlefield, when I felt something sharp graze my back.  I whirled, not even looking at who I was trying to stab.  I felt my knife make contact with something, my vision clearing to see the BLU Spy standing where Pyro had been, his balaclava ripped at the neck.  He fingered at the opening.  “So, you are still here, fille.  I thought our Pyro had gotten rid of you.”

“Sorry,” I snarled, pulling out another knife.  “I’m in the Respawn system, so I won’t be dying for good any time soon.

“Alert! Our control point is being contested!” the Administrator’s voice barked in my ear.  I shot a look down at the Spy’s feet—he was standing on the disc, which meant he was trying to capture the point.

“Back off if you know what’s good for you,” I said, and chucked a knife at him.  He tried to dodge, but it still hit him in his shoulder, making him snarl in pain as he charged at me, his own knife in hand.

I barely had enough time to pull out another knife and block him before he rammed into me, making me stumble backwards.  He didn’t let up, either.  He kept slashing at me with his butterfly knife, forcing me to dodge clumsily and back away, trying to regain my composure.  While I wasn’t able to land a hit, neither was he.

Suddenly he stopped advancing and just stood back, waiting for me to make a move.  I looked down at our feet, and saw that he was standing at the edge of the disc, while I was in the dirt.

“Bastard!”  I charged at him and at the last second, slipped under his guard and rammed my knife straight for his jugular.  He saw it coming, though, and pinned my arm to his chest, using his free arm to crash down hard on my elbow.  I bit back a scream that came out more of a grunt and forced my leg between us, kicking him back.  He stumbled a little but regained his balance just in time to have me throw my shoulder at him, trying to shove him off the point.  He braced himself though, and I only moved him back a few inches.  I jammed my elbow in his gut and his breath left him in a whoosh.  While he struggled to refill his lungs, I backed up and swept his legs out from under him.  He fell on his back, mouth opening and closing like a fish’s, trying to breathe.  I took my chance and slit his throat.

“Good job, Rogue,” Sniper’s voice said in my earpiece.  “That outta teach the BLU Spook that you ain’t supposed to be messed with.”

“Back in your nest, I see,” I said, following the red beam of light from where it was pointing at the dead Spy’s chest up to a little nook in the rock face.

“New nest,” he corrected, and the little red beam disappeared.  “Get ready, here they come!”

“Five minutes left in the mission!  Five minutes left in the mission!” the Administrator barked.

I turned around to see all of the BLU team, minus their Sniper and Spy, charging toward me.  I felt my face go pale.  “Uh, guys?  Where are you?”

“Heavy, Medic, Pyro, and I are all in the Respawn room,” Engie’s voice said.  “I don’t know where Demo—wait, he just appeared here.  We’re on our way, darling, just hold the point til we get there!”

“Right,” I said, swallowing as our Scout sped by me, giving me a thumbs up before charging at our rivals.  He was gunned down pretty quick, but not before injuring his doppelganger and their Demoman.  “Right.  Sniper, watch my back.  I’m going in.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before rushing at their Engineer, who was by far the least protected of them all and far enough to the side that it would take their Heavy time before he could aim his minigun at me.  Obviously the Engineer didn’t expect such a suicidal move and didn’t recover soon enough to blast his shotgun at me.  I threw a knife that buried itself in his throat and adjusted my course for the Demo, who was next in line but ready for me.  He shot a sticky bomb at my feet and I backpedalled wildly, trying to get away before he could blast me to pieces.  The bomb went off a few feet from me, sending dirt and shrapnel everywhere.  I cried out as dust blinded me and something sharp scratched my cheek, throwing an arm up in self-defense.

I heard fast footsteps heading for me, but they were abruptly cut off by a thunk.  I rubbed the dirt out of my eyes to see the Demoman lying in the dirt, a gunshot bleeding out from his temple.

I didn’t have time to thank Sniper for the save—the BLU Heavy had finally swung his minigun around and pointed it at me, it’s barrel whirring as he fired it up.  I scrambled to the side, bullets nipping at my heels as I struggled to stay ahead of his aim while trying to get close enough to take out the Medic behind him.

“Take that, tiny baby girl!” their Heavy shouted.  A bullet hit my calf and I screamed, stumbling.  I threw a knife blindly in an attempt to get him to pause his shooting.

It worked.  He ducked out to the way of the knife that came dangerously close to hitting his head and jerked the barrel of his minigun away from me, spraying bullets at a pile of crates instead.  The Medic was in my sight now.  I yanked my pistol out and shot the opposing German right between the eyes, eliciting a scream of rage from the Heavy and a howl of pain from the Soldier, who had been standing behind the healer and had taken the bullet in the shoulder.

The Heavy threw down his gun and charged at me, large hands reaching for me, intending to snap me in half.  I ducked under his swipe and brought the barrel of my pistol under his chin, shooting twice.  His body slumped forwards and I dodged to the side to keep from being flattened by the giant.

“Alert!  The control point is being contested!”

I looked over at the control point.  The BLU Soldier, Scout, and Pyro were running around it haphazardly, making it hard for Sniper to get a good shot.  I shot my last two bullets at them, making them halt for a second and turn towards me.

“Get the fuck off our point,” I snapped, and whipped out two knives.

The Scout grinned and jumped off the point, pulling out his baseball bat.  “C’mon, hot stuff, let us have it!  In fact, why don’t you join our team?  We’re better than those stupid REDs anyway!”

He went down in a spray of blood, pitching forward from the power of the shot I had just given Sniper.

“Really,” I said, and chucked a dagger at the Pyro.  It buried itself in the opposing firebug’s gasmask eyehole, making him scream and drop his flamethrower.  The Soldier started shooting rockets at me and I ducked under them, running for the point as best I could with my injured leg.

“Our control point has been captured!”

I skidded to a halt at the words, disbelieving as I watched the small circle in the middle go from glowing red to blue.  The Soldier stopped firing long enough to smirk at me and pull out a shovel, and the Pyro had collected himself enough to pull out his fireman’s axe.

“Rogue, get out of there!” Sniper cried through the earpiece.  “Oi’m out of ammo, Oi can’t help you!  Run!”

I didn’t need to be told twice.  I bolted, but the Soldier whacked the back of my head with his shovel.  I fell, dazed and with the beginnings of a headache.

“Looks like we got ourselves a new enemy, Pyro,” the BLU Soldier snarled and I clutched my head, trying to focus on something other than the pain so I could get up and escape.  “Care to do the honors?”

“Hudda hudda huh!” was all I heard before the axe came down on my neck.

[i-writewords]

Le Garçon, le Costume, et le Père

Because I had Papa Spy feels.

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“Can’t catch me!”

“Scout, get back here, now!”

“Make me, Frenchy!”

“Merde!”

Spy gritted his teeth as Scout laughed from where he was currently standing, on the roof of the RED’s base.  How the boy had managed to jump up there, he had no idea, but it was imperative that he get down.  “You are a grown man, Scout!  Enough with this childishness!  Come down here and get your suit on so we can go!”

“You don’t have much of a choice, boy,” Spy snapped.  “It’s part of your contract, so get down here and let’s get this over with!”

“Just cuz the party is a part of the contract doesn’t mean I have to dress fancy!” Scout said, crossing his arms.  “Maybe I’ll go in my uniform!  Or maybe I’ll go nude!”

Spy was itching to pull his revolver out and just shoot the boy, but it was a ceasefire day because of the party, which meant Respawn wasn’t on, so he couldn’t.  “Will you please get down here?  The sooner you comply, the sooner this will be over!”

“Fuck off, frog!” Scout cried, flipping Spy off and waltzing away.

“Vous êtes chanceux, vous êtes mon fils, ou je vous tue!”

“My, my, zere is a lot of shouting going on out here,” a German voice said.  Spy whirled to see no other than Medic standing behind him, already dressed for the event.  “Still trying to vrangle Scout into a suit, I see.”

“Oui.  Were you able to get your half of the team ready?” Spy asked, hoping the doctor hadn’t heard what he’d just said.  Spy and Medic had divided the team amongst themselves so they could get the others looking decent for the party.  Medic had had to deal with Heavy, Soldier, Engineer, and Pyro, while Spy had been lucky enough to have Sniper, Demo, and Scout.  Sniper had been compliant enough, if grumbly.  Demo had only agreed to it because Spy promised him access to his vault of alcohol for one night.  And Scout…well, you could see how well it was going with Scout.

“Ja, zey are all ready to go,” Medic said, folding his hands behind his back and grinning at Spy.  “I see you are no closer to getting ihr sohn ready zan you were an hour ago.”

So perhaps Medic had heard him.  His German was far from perfect, but that word sounded too close to what he assumed was its English counterpart.  “The boy is being impossible!  I have tried everything—reason, bribes, everything!  What can I do?”  He shrugged helplessly.  It wasn’t like him to ask for help, but what was a man to do?

Medic just shrugged.  “Ah, vell, you still have an hour until ve have to go.  I’m sure you’ll think of something.  He’s your boy, after all.”  The doctor turned, smiling to himself, and reentered the base.

“Merde.”  Spy held his head in his hand.  He should have known better than to say something like that when at least one other person on this base spoke French.  He just hoped Medic would have the sense not to let the cat out of the bag, as the saying went.

“Whatcha old farts talking about?” Scout reappeared, poking his head over the edge of the roof and peering curiously at Spy.  “What’d the doc mean by ‘he’s your boy’?”

A thought struck Spy.  “If you get down here and put on the suit, I will tell you.”

Scout stuck out his tongue.  “Fat chance of that, chucklenuts.  I’ll just go ask the doc myself!”

“Ah, but are you so sure he will tell you?” Spy said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.  He casually took a deep drag and blew smoke rings, enjoying watching Scout squirm in his indecision and doubt.  “The doctor is almost as close-mouthed as I am, if not more so on some things.  Do you want to risk not knowing?  This is my only offer, and the only time I will offer it.  Choose, boy.”

He could see Scout’s face twisting in indecision as the younger man thought out his options.  Slowly, grudgingly, he climbed down from the roof of the base and slunk over to Spy.  “Fine, I’ll wear the stupid suit.  Now tell me what the doc meant!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Spy said, grabbing the boy by the collar so he couldn’t escape.  “Suit first, then the explanation.  Come, mon fils, I should have a suit that fits you.”

Scout scowled and shrugged off his hand.  “I’ve got my own suit, I don’t need to wear one of yours.  They smell like cigarettes anyway.”

“Humor me,” Spy said, retracting his hand and heading for his bedroom.  “And this one will not smell of cigarettes, I promise you that.”

Scout looked doubtful, but followed him nonetheless.  When they entered Spy’s room, he gaped.  “This is your room?”

Spy frowned as he dug through his small closet.  “Oui.  You were expecting something else?”

“Just…I dunno, pictures of your old enemies that were still on the loose?  Maybe some miniature Eiffel Towers?  Cigarette butts everywhere?”  Scout frowned at the only adornment in the room—which happened to be a picture of Spy and Scout’s mother.  “Aw, hell no!”

The boy snatched up the picture and shoved it in Spy’s face.  “Why the hell do you have a picture of you and my ma, you sneak!”

Spy rolled his eyes as he pulled out a small cardboard box from his closet.  “Because it is the only picture I have of her, you imbecile.  Here, try this on.”  He deftly traded the picture for the box and placed it back on the nightstand.

“You know that ain’t what I meant!” Scout snarled, throwing the box on the bed and reaching for the picture again.  “Give me that, you have no right—”

Spy swiftly grabbed Scout’s wrist and twisted it away, making the boy wince in pain.  “I have every right,” Spy growled, glaring at the other dangerously.  “And, if you know what is good for you, mon fils, you will not try to take that picture from me.  Put on the suit.”

He released the wrist, and its owner cradled it.  “Sheesh, it’s my own mother, Spy, I should at least have some say in it!”

“Lorsque vous êtes plus âgé, vous comprendrez,” Spy said.  “Now put on the suit, and I will tell you what Medic meant.”

Scout scowled but opened the box anyway.  “Y’know I really hate it when you talk French, cuz I can’t understand a word you—whoa.”

Spy smirked as Scout unfolded the suit, staring at it reverently.  “Spy, this is—this is old.  Like, generations or something.  You sure you want me to wear this?”

“Oui.  It does not fit me anymore, and I can think of no other person who should have it.”  Spy smirked behind his fingers as Scout held the suit up gently.

“Yeah, but—shouldn’t you save it for, I dunno, your own son?” Scout questioned, but still clearly pleased that Spy had chosen him.

“J'ai déjà donné à lui,” Spy said.  “Il tient en ce moment.”

Scout rolled his eyes.  “Again with the French…” He shook his head.  “Whatever.  Give me a sec to try it on, would yah?”

Spy exited his room, shutting the door behind him and lighting a fresh cigarette.  He was extremely glad Scout couldn’t understand French—otherwise it would make it extremely awkward between the two men.

A couple minutes later and Scout opened the door, a broad smile on his face.  “It fits perfectly!” he said, spinning around to show the older man.  “I look good, don’t I?”

“Oui, petit, you do the suit justice,” Spy said, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder to make him hold still.  “But there is one small problem—where is the tie?”

Scout blushed a little.  “I couldn’t figure out how to tie it,” he said.  “I figured I don’t really need it, though.”

“Nonsense,” Spy said, pushing the boy back into his room and snatching the tie up from the bed.  “Come here, I will show you how to tie it.”

Scout reluctantly let Spy show him how to fix the tie properly around his neck without choking him.  “There, it is simple, non?”

“If you say so,” Scout said, playing with the knot a bit.  He looked up at Spy.  “So what did Medic mean?”

Spy groaned.  “Merde, I thought you had forgotten about that.”

Scout grinned.  “Nope.  We had a deal, Spy—I tried on the suit, now you tell me what the doc meant.”

Spy took a deep drag of his cigarette to calm his nerves.  “He meant that you were one of my three to wrangle into a suit.  The doctor and I divided the team up between ourselves to convince the rest of you to dress up properly for tonight.  I drew the short straw and got you.”

Scout’s face fell.  “That’s it?”

Spy resisted the urge to feel sympathy for the boy.  “Oui, petit, you were expecting something else?”

“Eh, not really…” Scout’s eyes gave him away, though.  Spy could see exactly what the young man had been hoping for.

Spy clapped a hand on his shoulder.  “Come, let us see if your new suit will better your chances with Miss Pauling, oui?”

Scout’s face brightened at the mention of his crush.  “Yeah!  I’ll be a real lady killer tonight!”  He rushed out of the room, followed by a slower, chuckling Spy.

“Mon garçon, en effet,” he murmured.  “My boy, indeed.”

[i-writewords]

TF2 - A New Class

Sorry sorry sorry that this is late!! Life has not exactly been kind these past few weeks so I didn't really get a chance to work on the story...but here's a nice long part for you to (hopefully) make up for it!

Part four here

Part five here

Part six here

Part eight here

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I was nervously flipping one of my brand new throwing knives, watching the others as they prepared for the day’s mission.  Heavy was putting one last polish on his gun, Sasha, while Medic was preparing an Ubercharge.  Scout was eagerly tapping his metal bat against his feet, making a dull clink clink clink.  Sniper was sharpening his short sword and Pyro was shooting out little bursts of flame from his weapon.  Demo was enjoying a bottle of Scrumpy, and Engie was making sure his toolbox had everything he needed.

“Nervous, petit?” a voice murmured in my ear.  I stifled a shriek when Spy materialized next to me, lighting a cigarette.

“We can’t be sure,” Spy said, blowing a cloud of smoke at the ceiling.  “We can only hope.”

“Gee, comforting,” I muttered sarcastically as Soldier entered the room.

“ALL RIGHT, MAGGOTS!” Soldier barked, turning our attention to him.  “We are almost assured victory today, if everyone sticks to the plan!  Does everyone remember the plan?”  Nods and grunts of assurement all around.  “Then I expect a clean, easy victory!  We are counting on you, Rogue!”

“Great,” I muttered as Spy disguised himself as Scout.

“Mission begins in sixty seconds,” the Administrator’s voice crackled in our earpieces.  We all gathered up our weapons and headed for the gates, save Engie, who grabbed his toolbox and headed for the intelligence room.

“Hey Spy, yah got my face wrong,” Scout said, playfully nudging his double.  “BLU team’s gonna know it’s you, cuz you ain’t near as handsome as me!”

Spy rolled Scout’s eyes.  “Nope, this is your face,” he said in Scout’s voice.  It was more than a little disorienting.  “Pretty sure I got this ugly thing down pat.”

“Hey!” Scout cried indignantly.

“Cut it out, both of you,” Sniper growled.  “Just do what yer supposed to.”  While Scout and Spy took their positions at either side of the gate, still glaring at each other, he clapped a hand on my shoulder.  “Yer gonna be fine.  Oi got yer back, and Spy will too as soon as he can catch up.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I muttered.  “But thanks, anyway.”

“Mission begins in thirty seconds!”  We all scrambled to our positions, Heavy in front of the gate with Medic behind him, Demo next to the real Scout and Soldier next to Spy.

Pyro waddled over to where Sniper and I were hanging back, saying something behind his mask.  “Um…yeah, you too,” I said, having no clue what the firebug had said.  He made a sort of squealing noise and hugged me before hurrying over to stand by Heavy.

I shot Sniper a desperate look.  “Any idea what he said?”  All I got in return was a shrug.  “Yeah, me too.”

“Mission begins in ten seconds!  …Five!  Four!  Three!  Two!  One!”  The gates opened and Scout and Spy darted out, weaving around the concrete field and trying to draw attention to themselves.   The other team opened fire on them immediately.  Soldier and Demo followed after them, throwing bombs and shooting rockets everywhere.  Heavy and Medic followed, albeit a bit more slowly, Pyro jogging ahead of them and spewing flames at anyone that got too close.  Sasha was spitting bullets everywhere, providing a wonderful cover for me.

“Go, go, go!” Sniper hissed at me, bringing his rifle up to his shoulder.  I darted out through the gate, praying he wouldn’t have to waste bullets on anyone who spotted me.  I ran low to the ground, heading for the sewers, where the others had told me there was an entrance to the opposing team’s base.  I had fifty yards of bright, open court where I stuck out like a sore thumb to cover, though, which was why the others were trying to draw as much attention to themselves as possible.  Hopefully the other team would be confused by the two Scouts running around enough to not notice a tenth person, me, running for the sewers.

I was halfway there when I heard the booming noise of Sniper’s rifle behind me.  Shit, I thought, I hope that wasn’t because someone saw me.  I still had about twenty yards to go before I could hide in the sewers.  Fifteen…ten…

C’mon, c’mon, I thought, just a little longer guys…

I made it to the manhole cover and lifted the lid as quickly as I could, slipping into the sewers, making a small splash when my boots sank into the water.

I pressed a button on my earpiece.  “Okay guys, I’m in the sewers.”

“Good job, darlin’,” Engie said.  “Be careful down there, now, their Spy might be down there, too.”

“Oi haven’t seen him up here yet,” Sniper’s voice crackled.  “Oi’ll keep an eye out.”

“Do you remember the way, petit?” Spy asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.  He and I had gone over a map of the sewers the night before, until I had memorized the route.  “I’m going.”

“I will catch up shortly,” he said, before my earpiece went quiet again.

I took two deep breaths before pulling out an extra knife and slowly making my way through the sewers, scanning ahead each time for a cloaked Spy.  Spy had showed me the small flaw in the cloaking devices he and the other spy had—if you looked carefully, you could make out a shimmering outline of them.

As far as I could tell, I didn’t encounter the enemy Spy the whole way to the BLU team’s base.  When I finally made it to the other manhole, I scrambled up the ladder and opened it just a crack.

Good thing, too, because the other team’s Engineer was only a few feet away, building a sentry next to a dispenser.  I stared.  He seemed kinda familiar—then he turned around and I got a clear look at his face.

I choked on my own breath and ducked back down, quietly dropping the cover back in its place.  The other Engineer looked almost exactly the same as ours.  What the hell was this black magic fuckery?  Was Engie really on their team?  Was this the other team’s Spy, pretending to be our Engie?  What the hell was going on?

I pressed the button on my earpiece.  “Guys,” I hissed.  “Does anyone want to tell me why their Engineer looks almost exactly like our Engineer?”

“Oh yeah, we forgot to tell you about that, didn’t we?” Scout said.  In the background I could hear him hitting his bat against something.  Something hard.  “Well, you see Rogue, when a Mommy and Daddy love each other very much—”

“Scout, this is not the time to be joking,” I snapped.  “Now someone tell me what the hell is going on!”

“They’re our doppelgangers,” Engineer said.  I peeked out of the manhole to see if the Engineer in front of me was talking.  He wasn’t—his lips weren’t moving at all.  “We dunno why they look like us, they just do.  But there’s a few differences, if you can spot ‘em.  Like my double, he’s got a birthmark on his jaw that I don’t have.”

I inspected the BLU Engineer’s jaw and, sure enough, he had a mark in the shape of a kidney bean on his lower right jaw that our Engie didn’t have.  “Okay, so, what do I do?  Just kill him?”

“That would be ideal, petit,” Spy’s voice joined in.  “Especially if he’s in your way.  He will most certainly not hesitate in killing you, once he realizes who you’re working for.”

I picked at my red shirt that Miss Pauling had delivered the day before with my weapons, wishing I didn’t have to wear the stupidly bright color.  “All right.  Spy, what’s your ETA from meeting point?”

There was a loud boom from the earpiece that nearly shattered my eardrum.  “Merde!  I will be there in perhaps five minutes, petit.”

“Gotcha.  See you at the intelligence room, then.”  I replaced one of my knives and pulled out my pistol.  If I was going anywhere, I was going to have to get rid of that sentry first.  I opened the manhole just a crack and pushed the barrel through, aiming at the sentry the other Engineer was currently hunched over.

Two powerful shots, one to the stand holding the sentry up, the other to its main body, made it completely worthless.  The other Engineer spun around, but I was already out of the sewers and charging at him.  I threw one knife at his uncovered hand, it digging in and poking through.  He shouted in pain, distracted enough for me to leap onto his back and hook a hand under his chin, yanking his head back.

I pulled out another knife.  “Sorry, pal, better you than me,” I said, and slit his throat.  He let out a choked sound before slumping to the floor, his blood pooling around him.  I pulled my knife out of his hand and wiped both of them on his overalls, being careful not to step in the blood.  The last thing I needed was a bloody footprint announcing where I was going.  I picked up his wrench—who knew, maybe I could use it to get into the intelligence room.  Spy and Scout both said it was usually locked, guarded by a passcode, but there was a window you could break to get in, if you couldn’t get the code from them.

Slinging the wrench over my shoulder, I headed down the hallway that Spy said led to the intelligence room.  It should have been smooth sailing from there—usually the Engineer was the only one who stayed behind to guard the room, according to Spy.

Except I heard footsteps coming in the other direction.  My eyes widened and I looked around frantically, trying to find somewhere to hide.

There!  A door was open slightly, to my right.  I ducked behind it and pressed myself against the wall, hoping whoever was coming wouldn’t see me.

The footsteps slowed, getting closer and closer.  I kept my eyes trained on the hall, waiting for whomever it was to pass by.

When they did, I had to suppress a strangled cry.  It was the other team’s Pyro.  He looked exactly like ours did, only his body suit was blue, rather than red.  He swept his head back and forth slowly, his mask hiding where exactly he was looking.

He caught sight of my open door and cocked his head thoughtfully, mumbling something.  He stepped into the room and I further pressed myself back between the wall and the door, praying to whatever deity was listening that he wouldn’t turn around.

Some god must have been listening, because he didn’t look at me, he just stood there, looking around the room, looking everywhere but behind him.  I had a choice—try and kill him or try and sneak out while he wasn’t looking.  I couldn’t risk firing my pistol again.  It’s noise was what most likely had drawn him here, and if the other members of his team were here as well, I couldn’t fire it again because the noise would just bring them down on me.  Killing him with one of my knives would be difficult, since I couldn’t locate his neck or the right place to stab his back in that suit.  I could try and knock him out with the wrench I had pilfered from the Engineer’s corpse, but there were no guarantees that would work with the first hit.  It looked like my only choice was to try and sneak out and hope I didn’t end up as charcoal.

I slowly tiptoed out from around the door, my eyes never leaving the opposing team’s firebug.  He seemed captivated by something on the other side of the room, not looking at me even once.  I backed out of the room, and as soon as I was clear of the doorway and back in the hallway, I inched sideways until I was at the end of the hall, still trying not to make any noise.  As soon as I was at the corner, I took off running, hoping I was far enough away that the Pyro wouldn’t hear my footsteps.

I darted around the next corner, still heading for the intelligence room.  I kept throwing looks over my shoulder, expecting to see an asbestos suit with a flamethrower following me.  It was during one of those times that I wasn’t looking where I was going when I ran into someone.

It wasn’t graceful, either.  Running into people hardly ever was.  I slammed into whoever it was, full force, sending us falling to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs.  I think our heads bonked once, because my teeth rattled when my head hit something hard.  Or maybe I’d just hit the floor.

Either way, I scrambled off of whoever it was as soon as I could.  It was the other team’s Spy, who was staring at me in confusion.  I didn’t hesitate—I leaped back on top of him, aiming to drive my knife into his chest.

He saw it coming and grabbed my wrist before I could do so much as scratch him.  He grunted and rolled us over, pinning me to the ground with a leg on my chest.  He grabbed my free arm with his hand, holding it to the floor while I struggled to get out from under him.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he asked in an accent extremely close to our Spy’s.  “Une fille?  Since when does RED employ women?  Don’t tell me that you were hired as entertainment and got lost?”

“Piss off,” I growled, and jammed my knee between his legs.  He let out a choked sound and his grip on my hands loosened just enough for me to jerk them away.  I grabbed his head and threw him off of me, rolling to my feet.  “I’m a mercenary, you French tart.”  I pulled out my pistol and aimed it at his forehead.

Before I could pull the trigger, though, he let out a cry and fell to the floor, a butterfly knife sticking out of his spine.  Our own Spy materialized into view, brushing his suit.  “Be careful what you say, petit,” he said.  “Though I should probably tell my rival zhe same thing.”  He toed the body of his look-alike with a slightly disgusted look on his face.  “Entertainment, indeed.”

“Come on,” I said, picking up the BLU Engineer’s wrench from where it had fallen during the scuffle.  “Not much farther to the intelligence room, right?”

“Non, not much farther.”  He pulled his knife out of the BLU Spy’s back and wiped it clean on a handkerchief.  “Come.  It is around zhe corner.”

He was right—not that I had really doubted him in the first place.  The door to the intelligence room was unguarded, like the BLU’s hadn’t expected anyone to get this far.  The only thing keeping us from our prize was the keypad lock.

“Allow me,” I said, hefting the wrench.  I swung it hard at the window, breaking it on the second swing.  I gingerly reached through the broken glass and opened the door from the inside.

“I had zhe code, you know,” Spy sniffed as we entered the room, the blue briefcase on display in the center of the room.

“Yeah, but that was more fun,” I said, running a hand over the case.  “This is all we need, right?”

“Correct.  Grab it and let’s go.”  Spy lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.  “Zhis is going to be zhe hard part, you know.”

“What, delivering the briefcase back to the base?”

“While dodging everyone on zheir team.  Zhe battle has already spread to zhe sewers.  We’re going to have to take a different route back.”

“Wonderful,” I groaned.  “Well, let’s get going, then.”

We both turned to go out the door, only to see the BLU Pyro standing there, staring at us curiously.  I froze on the spot.

Spy didn’t.  He jumped at the Pyro, shouting, “Go, petit, I will hold him!”  He wrestled the maniac back far enough for me to slip past them.

I darted through the opening, clutching the briefcase in one hand.  “Spy!” I cried when I made it to the end of the hall.  “Come on, run!”

I watched in horror as the Pyro threw Spy against the wall and aimed the flamethrower at him.  Spy’s eyes went wide with fear before his body was engulfed in flames.

His scream echoed in my ears as I took off running.  There was nothing I could do but get the briefcase to the base now—nobody could live through that much flame-on-skin contact.

I charged out of the building, determined not to let the Pyro behind me catch me.  “Guys, guys I’ve got the briefcase,” I gasped.  “Spy—Spy’s dead.  Their Pyro got him.”

Sniper swore.  “Damn Spook.  Look, just get the briefcase here.  Oi can see ya, Oi’ve got yer back.  Scout, you help keep the others off of her.”

“I’m on mah way,” Scout said.  “Don’t worry, Rogue, I’ll keep the bad guys off of yah!”

“Whatever!  I’m going!”  I darted away from the door, heading directly for our base.

“Five minutes left in the mission,” the Administrator’s voice crackled in my ear.  “Five minutes.”

“Shit.”  I rounded a corner and was met with a spray of bullets from their Heavy.  “Shit!”  I ducked back around the corner.  “Scout, hurry!  Their Heavy is after me!”

“I’m there!” he replied.  “Bonk!”  I heard the sound of his metal bat hitting flesh.  I peeked around the corner to see Scout literally running circles around the BLU Heavy, hitting him with his bat in random places, before one well-placed bullet that came out of nowhere made the bigger man slump to the ground, dead.

“Thanks, Sniper!” Scout said, turning and waving at the tower set a ways back from the battlefield.

“No problem, mates,” Sniper replied over the earpiece.  “Get that briefcase to the base!”

“Right!”  Scout took my arm and we took off, me struggling to keep up with the runner.  “Come on, Rogue, we’re almost there!”

We rounded a corner and came face to face with the BLU Demoman.  Scout acted like this was completely normal, pulling out his pistol and shooting at the Scottish Cyclops double and filling him with bullet holes.

“Duck!” Heavy’s voice shouted at us in the earpiece, and we hit the ground just as a rocket exploded against the wall behind us.

Scout grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet, and we ran for the base.  We made it to the door of the base and he pushed me toward it, turning and blasting his scattergun at his BLU double, who was charging at us.  “Move it, Rogue, move!” he shouted at me.  “Get it to our intel room!”

I ducked through the doorway just as a bullet whizzed past my head and buried itself in the wall.  Apparently the other Sniper had spotted me.  “Sniper, your double is shooting at me!  Do something!”

“Oi’m on it,” the Australian said.  “Get going!”  The sound of his rifle going off boomed through the earpiece and I winced.

I hurried through the base, trying to remember where the intel room was.  “Engie,” I cried, “I can’t find the intel room!”

“Where are ya, darlin’?”

I looked around.  “Main entrance room.  Which way to the intel room?”

“There’s a set of stairs leading up on the left,” Engineer said.  There was the sound of bullets and missiles being shot, followed by an explosion.  “Crud, sentry down!  Anyway, follow those stairs up and to the left, the intel room will be at the end of that hall!”

“Sixty seconds left in the mission!”

“Fuck!”  I ran for the staircase and took them three at a time, bolting to the left as soon as I reached the top.  I could see the intel room down at the end of the hall and bolted for it.

“Thirty seconds left in the mission!”

I slammed the passcode into the keypad and kicked the door open, slamming the BLU briefcase down on the table next to our red one.

“Victory!” the Administrator’s voice said.  I slumped in relief as my teammates cheered, their voices buzzing in my earpiece.

“We did it!” Scout cried happily.

Engineer burst into the intel room and scooped me up in a hug, dancing around.  “Yah did it, darlin’!  We won!”

For once, I didn’t mind the hug.  I whooped and hugged him back, laughing.  Damn if winning didn’t feel good.

 .........

An hour later and team was in the rec room with me, enjoying the beer Demo had used the teleporter to get.  Scout was sitting with Demo at the poker table, bragging about how he’d saved me from “those bastard BLUs.”  Demo was nodding along with the story, but the look on his face said he obviously knew most of it was bullshit.  Soldier was trying to congratulate us all over Scout’s story, which was progressively turning into a shouting match between the two.  Engineer was enjoying his own beer off to the side, keeping a watchful eye on them.  Pyro was building a small fire next to him, staring at it in wonder.  Heavy was munching on a sandwich next to the fridge, declining the beer that had been offered to him by Medic, who was on his third or fourth beer and still looked sober.  I was sitting on the loveseat, seeing as the couch still needed to be reupholstered.

“Good job today, Sheila,” Sniper said, sitting down next to me with his own bottle of beer.  “I was roight—you were just what we needed to get an edge over the BLUs.”

“Ain’t gonna be much of an edge, now that they know I’m here,” I said, sipping my own beer.  I grinned at him.  “But today was…fun, for lack of a better term.”

He chuckled and swigged his own beer.  “Let’s see if we can’t keep this winning streak going, mates!  To Rogue!”

“To Rogue!” the rest chorused, knocking back their drinks.  Sniper clinked bottles with me and we both drank deeply.

I spotted something out of the corner of my eye and turned to get a better look.  Something was moving around over by the TV, something…invisible?  Then it materialized into view.

I let out a scream and backpedalled into Sniper, who caught me in surprise.  “Sheila!  Sheila, wot’s wrong?!” he cried, putting an arm around my shoulders.

I covered my mouth to stop the screaming and pointed a shaking finger.  “You,” I said.  “You’re dead.  I saw you die!”

Spy, our Spy, was frowning at me heavily, a cigarette halfway to his lips.  “Oui, petit, I did die zhis afternoon.  But as you can see, I am fine.”

“H-How?” I asked, trembling in Sniper’s arms.  “You shouldn’t be here!”

Spy looked around at our teammates.  “Did no one explain zhe Respawn system to her?”

The others, who had been alerted by my scream and looked ready to attack, looked around at each other.  There was a chorus of “no’s” and “I didn’t’s” all around, which only made Spy frown harder.

“What—What the hell is Respawn?” I asked, trying to slow my heartbeat.

“It’s wot brings us back to life after we’ve been killed on the battlefield,” Sniper said, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down my arms.  “Keeps us from being permanently dead, so long as we’re within its range.”

“I don’t—I just—what?” I stammered, not fully comprehending it all.

“Ja, it is exactly as Sniper says, mein lieber,” Medic said.  “You know how my Medigun vorks?  Think of it like zat, only much, much more powerful.”

I looked around at all of them.  “You guys are insane,” I said, shoving Sniper off of me and standing up.  I left my beer where it had fallen on the floor and stormed out, heading for the garage.

 ........

“Well, that was fun,” Sniper said sarcastically after Rogue had left.  He looked at Medic.  “Why didn’t ya explain it to her before the battle, doc?”

“I did not have time,” Medic said.  “Spy vas taking up so much time going over ze plan, it slipped my mind.”

“Please tell me she’s at least in zhe system,” Spy said.

“Of course,” the doctor sniffed.  “I did zat shortly after her leg healed.”

“Somebody’s gonna need to go after her and make sure she’s alright,” Engineer said.  “She’s probably still shaken up.”

As one, they all turned and looked at Sniper, who shifted uncomfortably.  “Wot?”

“Yer the only one the lass really trusts, mate,” Demo said.

“Yeah, it’s obvious she favors you over all of us,” Scout grumbled.  “Wish it were me.”

“That’s because you force yourself on her,” Sniper grumbled.  “Maybe if you weren’t so pushy, Scout, she’d like you, too.”

“Regardless,” Spy interrupted before Scout could respond, “somebody needs to go check on her, and you have been elected, bushman.  Get going.”

Sniper sighed and stood up.  It was obvious the others weren’t going to let this go, and if he was honest with himself, he was worried about her too.  Her reaction to Respawn had been the most scared of all of them, which included Scout’s babbling, but of course the system had been explained and even demonstrated to them before they’d begun working.  It had still been a bit of a shock, though.

He’d seen which way she’d been heading when she’d stormed out of the rec room, so he had a pretty good idea of where she’d be.

 ........

Sniper found me curled up in the front seat of his van a few minutes later, staring out into the darkness.  The sun had just set a few minutes ago, and the darkness only helped to make me feel more alone.

“Thought you’d be here,” he grunted, climbing into the driver’s seat and shutting the door.  “You alroight?”

“Of course not,” I snapped.  “How did you react when you first found out you and the others could come back to life after being killed?!”

“Hmm.”  He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered me one.  “Smoke?”

After a moment’s hesitation, I snatched it from him and waited as he dug out a lighter.  We sat in silence for a while, smoking our cigarettes.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker,” he said after he’d finished his first one.

“I’m not, really,” I said.  It was taking me forever to get through my first one, compared to him.  I was barely halfway done with mine.  “But they do help me relieve stress every once in a while.”

“Mmm.  Nice thing about Respawn.  Oi can smoke all Oi want and not have to worry about lung cancer, or whatever it is they’re warning us about now.”  He lit up another.

“How does it work, anyway?  Respawn, I mean?” I asked.  I hadn’t turned to look at him this entire time, choosing instead to stare out the windshield.

“Beats me,” he said.  “Medic and Engie could probably give you a full rundown, seeing as they’re the ones who have access to its inner workings.  All Oi know is no matter how it is you die—shot, blown to bits, stabbed in the back—it brings you back for round two, and three, and on and on.”

“Sounds like it would get old pretty quick,” I said.

“It does,” he said.  “Believe me, it does.”  He took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair.  “Look, m’sorry we didn’t explain it to ye before the mission.  Better late than never, though, y’know?  At least ye didn’t wake up in the Respawn room, wondering what the hell was going on when yer supposed to be dead.”

“Point.”  I finished my cigarette.  “Hey.  Thanks for coming and making sure I was okay.”

He grinned and shook his head, chuckling.  “The others wouldn’t let me not come and make sure you were okay.  You seemed pretty shaken up by seeing Spy alive and well.”

“It ain’t every day you see someone you watched die in front of your eyes walking around like he owns the place.”

“Oi can’t argue with you there.”  He slid a glance over at me.  “Yer not gonna have nightmares again tonight, are ye?”

I shrugged.  “Dunno.  It’s not like I plan them.”

“Well…” He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.  “M’van is always unlocked, if ye need anybody…just for comfort, mind…”

I giggled at his awkwardness.  “Thanks, I’ll remember that.”

He put his hat back on and tugged it low over his face, probably to hide his blush.  We sat in comfortable silence again for a while, before I mustered up the courage to ask him a question.

“Hey, Sniper?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you…have you ever been alone?  Like you’re surrounded by people but you feel like you’re completely and utterly alone?”

He rolled a fresh cigarette between his fingers, staring at it.  “Oi’d be lying if Oi said I hadn’t,” he said softly.  “Why, do you?”  He looked over at me, face etched with a bit of worry.

I bit my lip and dropped his gaze.  “Not anymore.”

[i-writewords]

When will the new part of 'A New Class' be posted?

I apologize, I’ve been busy with school and life :/ I promise it will be up soon though, as soon as my midterms are over.  So within the next week or two.  I’m really sorry about the lateness!

[i-writewords]

I am literally one follower away from having twice as many followers on this blog than on my main blog. I don't know whether to laugh or be concerned.

[i-writewords]

How long does it take to write a normal story?

It depends on how motivated I am to write it.  Like right now, with the TF2 fic, sometimes I can write a chapter in a couple of hours.  Others sometimes it will take me a week.  It also depends on the idea I have behind the story. Like with Notre Lumière Est Mort, I did that in a half hour because I had a good idea for it.  I also have a short attention span, so I'm constantly getting distracted from writing. Like now, I was typing up another chapter for A New Class when I decided to browse tumblr XD I don't post my writing right away, either. I have my friend beta read it to check for plot holes or character errors, then I go back and read it for grammar and spelling errors (I don't catch them all, sadly, but I do get most of them).  All in all the process can take a while, but I try to update A New Class at least once a week.

[i-writewords]

TF2 - A New Class

Oh look.  Another update.  And it's pretty long!

Part four here

Part five here

Part seven here

Part eight here

.....................................................................................................................

The stuff Medic needed arrived the next day, as promised, and by Monday he was ready to give me the serum that was supposed to heal my leg.  He had somehow secured an extra day of ceasefire, which, I was told by Engineer, was a feat in and of itself.  Apparently haggling with the Administrator for anything wasn’t easy at all.  I was a bit nervous—okay, really nervous.  Heavy had told me about some of the doctor’s other experiments, namely the uber surgery and how one of the doves had ended up in Scout’s chest, and I wasn’t so sure anymore if I wanted to go through with this.  Apparently, though, I didn’t have much choice in the matter.

“Right,” I said nervously, trying to look anywhere but the doctor.  “And how long is it supposed to take again?”

“It shouldn’t take more zan a few minutes,” Medic said idly, picking up a needle and squirting it experimentally.  “Are you ready, mein lieber?”

Was it just me, or did he have a bit of a mad glint in his eye?  “Uh…”

“Do not worry, ptichka,” Heavy said, petting my head.  Besides Sniper, Heavy was the only one who was allowed to touch me.  Pyro was the only one who didn’t seem to abide by the rules, but he seemed relatively harmless, so I let him slide.  “Doctor is best doctor I know.  You are in good hands.”

“Right,” I said.  “And you’re here again because…?”

“Heavy sometimes helps me out with some of my experiments,” Medic said.  “More often than not, he is on the receiving end of zhem.  Now, are you ready?”

I swallowed the knot in my throat and nodded.  “Ready.”

“Good.”  Medic gave a wicked grin.  “Now, you vill feel a slight pinch.”

I winced when the needle broke through the skin of my foot, but dealt with it.  Twice more Medic injected me with his serum.  At first, after all three needles were in, I didn’t feel any different.  It stayed that way for about two heartbeats.  Then—

“AAARRRGGGHHHH!”  Pain like no other engulfed my leg and I started thrashing, no longer in control of my limbs.  I just wanted to make the pain STOP.  Every heartbeat pulsed hard in my leg and I could feel the bones and muscles moving around and oh god it fucking hurt.  I was screaming so hard that I felt my voice crack more than once.  Someone—probably Heavy—grabbed my arms and forced them to my sides.  Another set of hands, probably Medic’s, shoved my wrists into the leather straps and tightened them so I couldn’t move.  My uninjured foot soon joined the bound-in-leather club, but I was thrashing my head back and forth so hard neither man could get a good grip.  I wasn’t sure when I started crying, but once I did I couldn’t stop.  Tears ran down my cheeks as I howled and tried to get away from the pain in my leg.  There was a hard shift near my ankle and I screamed louder.

I didn’t feel the pinch of the needle go into my skin, but I most certainly felt the pain begin to lessen before I blacked out.

 ......................

“Why did ptichka scream and cry, doctor?” Heavy asked worriedly as the girl slowly relaxed and passed out.  “I thought operation was painless?”

“Unfortunately not, mein Fruend,” Medic said, shoving his glasses back up his nose.  “Apparently I did not mix enough painkillers into ze formula correctly.  Ve’re going to have to vatch her.  If she starts to vake up vith pain, I’ll give her another round of painkillers.  Hopefully zhis vill not affect ze formula already in her system.  Ve’re counting on zat leg to heal.”

Heavy frowned down at the girl and stroked her hair softly.  She reminded him a bit of his sisters at home—smaller than him and fragile-looking, but very tough.  Normally she didn’t like anyone touching her, but sometimes she let him pet her head or give her a—very gentle, since he didn’t want to break her—hug.

“Will ptichka be okay, doctor?” Heavy asked.  He didn’t like that Medic had been wrong.  Medic usually wasn’t wrong.

“Of course, of course,” Medic said as he hurriedly wrote something down on a clipboard.  “Ze formula vill vork just fine.  Ze only thing wrong vas that I forgot to carry ze six for mixing in ze painkillers.  She vill be just fine, I promise.”

Heavy nodded solemnly, hoping that Medic was correct this time.

 ...............

I came to slowly I don’t know how much later, but the pain in my leg was gone.  My head felt woozy and I was afraid that if I sat up too fast I’d throw up.

“Doctor!  She is awake!” a familiar Russian voice boomed.  I winced at the loudness.

Medic’s face appeared in front of mine.  “How are you feeling, mein lieber?” he asked, undoing the straps that held my wrists and one of my ankles to the table.

“Weird,” I said slowly, drawing out the word.  “What the hell was in that formula?”

Medic chuckled.  “I believe you are actually experiencing the painkillers I gave you,” he said, lifting my unbound leg up and inspecting it.  “I had to give you a heavy dose to keep you from hurting yourself.  Tell me, does zhis hurt?”  He somehow slid his hand into my cast and squeezed my leg gently.

“Nnnnnope,” I said, popping the P.  “Feels just fine, Doc.”  I grinned up at Heavy, who was standing worriedly next to me.  “This is fun.  You should try it sometime.”

“Please, doctor,” Heavy begged, “make ptichka stop acting so funny.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll have to flush ze painkillers out of her system,” Medic said.  “But ze good news is zat ze formula vorked!  Her leg is completely healed!  Fascinating!  Think of ze applications if I mass produced this!”

Heavy seemed to get more worried when I started reaching for the butterfly on his head.  “Please, doctor, now!”

“Yes, yes,” Medic said, reaching for an IV that had a snake for a tube.  “Now, you may feel a slight pinch, mein lieber, but I doubt it will affect you vith all zhose painkillers in your system.”  Medic chuckled to himself as the snake bit into my arm.  “Too bad zhere is only a limited supply of Australium, othervise I vould be a billionaire!”

A minute or two later and my head was clearing up.  The snake was actually a tube connected to an IV, and there wasn’t a butterfly on Heavy’s head.  I groaned and rubbed my temples.  “What the hell did you give me, Medic?  A hallucinogenic?”

“I gave you vhatever happened to be closest at ze time,” Medic said.  He was scribbling stuff down on his clipboard.  “You vere making an awful lot of noise, so ve had to shut you up quickly.  Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“Um…fine, I guess,” I said, trying to ignore the fact that he seemed more concerned about his hearing than my being in pain.  “And…like I really gotta use the bathroom!”  I disconnected the IV tube from my arm and jumped from the table, dashing for the restroom down the hall.

I didn’t realize until I was halfway there that I was running, on both feet, rather than hurriedly wheeling myself in the wheelchair.

I stopped short and stared down at my leg in amazement.  The formula had worked.  It had actually worked.

I grinned and tapped my newly healed leg on the floor, relishing in how the cast made a light bump bump bump with every touch.  A giggle escaped me and I couldn’t stop the rest that followed.

Sniper poked his head into the waiting room and looked at me.  “Wot’s so funny, Sheila?” he asked.

“It’s healed,” I said, grinning widely at him.  “It’s healed, it’s healed, it’s healed!”  I threw my arms around his neck and jumped up and down.  “It’s healed!”

Surprised, he wrapped his arms around my middle and peered down at my leg.  When he saw I wasn’t favoring it, he smiled.  “Told ya the doc was the best.”

I laughed and hugged him tight, which he returned a bit awkwardly, before dashing off to my previous destination.  “It’s healed!  It’s actually healed!”

 .....................

I ended up having to go back to the lab after I peed so Medic could cut the cast off and finish flushing the painkillers out of my system.  He made me do a few tests, too, once the cast was off and the painkillers were gone.  Mostly stuff like running from one end of the lab to the other, jumping up and down, things like that.  He even had me jump off the table to see how my leg would cope with the shock of a higher jump.  I worked just fine, exactly how it had before Sniper had run it over.

“I think zat your leg is just fine, mein lieber,” Medic said as I practiced a few stretches.  “Clean bill of health!  Vell, mostly—ve still need to vork on your veight.”

“I’ll just eat more,” I said, standing back up.  “Can I go now?”

“No, no!  You can’t just eat more!” Medic exclaimed, looking frustrated.  “You must eat things zat are more nutritious.  It is not quantity zat you need, mein lieber, but mostly quality.  I vill let ze others know I vill be cooking until you are in a better veight range.”  He made a shooing motion with his hand.  “Alright, go.  I have a few things to vork out before I put you into ze system.”

I nodded and dashed out of the lab, aching for a shower.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been clean, and I hadn’t been able to take one with my cast on.  I knew I probably stunk, but the guys were probably too nice to mention it.  Or maybe it just didn’t bother them.  Still, I wanted to get the street grime that had collected on me off.

“Where you hurrying off too, Sheila?” Sniper asked as I exited the lab.  Apparently he’d been waiting in the waiting room.

“To the bathroom,” I said.  “I need a shower.  Bad.”

He looked me up and down.  “You got an extra set of clothes to change into?” he asked.

I frowned.  “No.  I figured I’d just put these back on once I was done.”  I picked at them.  “They’re not that dirty.”

He snorted.  “Yeah, roight.”

“Look, I’m going to go shower,” I snapped.  “And it’s none of your damn business what I wear.  So kindly, butt out.”  I stormed out and headed for the bathroom, passing Scout on my way.

“Whoa, who got your panties in a twist, Sheila?” he said, catching the baseball he’d been tossing in the air.

“Shut up, Scout,” I snapped.  “I’ll be taking a shower, so let the others know the bathroom’s off limits until further notice.”  I caught the look on his face and sent him a glare.  “And don’t even think about peeking, or I’ll castrate you!”  I pulled the butterfly knife out of my pocket for emphasis.

He clamped his mouth shut and hurried to deliver my message, eyes wide at my threat.

I made it to the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it in relief.  Finally, some alone time.  It was incredibly hard to be alone for any stretch of time, except for at night, when everyone was asleep.  I scurried over to the first shower and turned the water on, waiting for it to reach the perfect temperature before undressing and getting in.

The hot water felt so damn good I practically melted.  The closest thing that I’d had to a shower in the past month had been when it had rained on me at whichever town I had been at last.  I scrubbed my hair, trying to get as much dirt and filth out as possible.  The water that ran from my body was dark for the first few minutes before turning to a lighter brown.  Satisfied that I wasn’t going to get any more filth out without some help, I reached for the shampoo.

I slowly kneaded the soap into my hair, scratching my scalp and sighing happily.  I rinsed and repeated twice more, determined to get the grime out.  Once I deemed my hair clean enough, I grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed my skin until it was raw.  The water ran clear after that, and I took a few minutes to enjoy the heat that swarmed around my body.

Eventually, though, I had to get out.  Sighing, I turned the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel on the rack between the two showers.  I dried myself off, then wrapped its fuzzy warmth around me.  But when I reached for my clothes, they weren’t there.

Instead, there was a neatly folded pile consisting of a red shirt, khaki shorts, and a pair of plain white boxers.  My own clothes, including my underwear, were nowhere to be seen.

Scowling, I picked up the red shirt and noticed the yellow crosshairs on the sleeves.  I narrowed my eyes at the shirt, then at the door.  When had he snuck in?  Had I been to busy enjoying myself to notice?  I wracked my brain, trying to remember if I had locked the door.  Apparently I hadn’t.  That or he knew how to pick locks.

My breath hissed between my teeth and I pulled the shirt on regretfully.  It was either this or walk around naked, and I really didn’t want to do that.  The shirt was too big—I could practically swim in it, and the sleeves, which barely went past his elbows, nearly reached my wrists.  I hesitated at the boxers, unsure if I really wanted to wear them.  Fuck it, I thought.  Next time he showers I’ll steal his boxers and make him wear my panties.  I slipped them on, then the shorts.  The shorts almost fell off, which was when I noticed the belt off to the side.  I cinched it around my waist to hold the shorts up, then combed my fingers through my hair to get it too look at least somewhat neat.

I stormed out of the bathroom, determined to find one tall, lanky Australian and give him an earful until he gave me back my clothes.

“Sniper!” I snarled, throwing open the door.  “Where are you?!”

Scout poked his head out of the rec room.  “He’s in here!”  He took in the sight of me and grinned.  “Nice outfit, Sheila.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, shoving past him.  “Sniper!  I’m going to kill you unless you give me my clothes back!”

Said Australian looked up from where he was sitting at the poker table with Spy and Demo.  “They’re being washed,” he said, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette in the tray next to him.  “Yer gonna have to live with that til they’re done.”

“You bastard, I didn’t ask for them to be washed!” I snapped, coming around the table and grabbing him by the collar.

“Maybe not, petit, but they did need to be washed,” Spy said.

“No one asked you, frog,” I growled.  I shook Sniper.  “How’d you get into the bathroom, anyway?!”

“The door was unlocked,” he said.  “If ye want privacy, ye gotta better at locking doors, Sheila.”

“You asshole!”  I raised my hand to slap him, only to be stopped by Demo.

“Look, lass,” the Scottish man said, “what’s done is done.  Just let it be.  Yer clothes needed a wash, anyway.  Ye’ll get them back once they’re clean.  Sniper didn’t mean any harm by it.”

I scowled by let go of Sniper and backed away.  “Fine.”  I pointed at Sniper.  “But I’m still pissed at you.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Then how about you join in on this game and kick my ass?  Spook is losing his touch.”

“I am not!” Spy protested.

“Well, if it means winning more money from you guys…” I sat down across from Sniper.  “Deal me in.”

 ..............

An hour later and I wasn’t mad at Sniper for taking my clothes anymore.  No, I was mad at him because he was actually winning the poker game.  I was down to my last dollar—we were playing with actual money this time—and he was raking in the dough.  Demo had already lost all his money and Spy was like me, nearing the end of his rope.

“This sucks,” I sulked, tossing in my crappy hand.  “You win, Snipes.”

He grinned.  “Cards are on my side today, it seems,” he said, taking all the cash and stuffing it in his wallet.  “Anybody want to go another round?”

Before I could tell him where he could shove that other round Scout poked his head in.  “Hey guys, Miss Pauling’s here!” he said enthusiastically.

A woman wearing glasses and dressed in a purple business suit pushed past Scout and headed directly for me.  “You must be Sheila,” she said, sticking her hand out.  I tried not to jump back, unsure what to do.  “I’m Miss Pauling.  I’m here to have you sign your contract and see what weapons you would prefer for your missions.”

“Um, hi,” I said, gingerly taking her hand and shaking it.

She frowned at my clothes and looked at the others.  “Anybody want to tell me why she’s wearing Sniper’s clothes?”

“Her clothes were disgusting,” Spy said with a bit of contempt, but I had a feeling it was generated toward my clothes, not Miss Pauling.  “Our dear Australian took it upon himself to wash her clothes and provide her with some of his own until they were clean.”

Miss Pauling looked at Sniper, who was blushing a little and tugging his had lower.  “Is this true?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss Pauling,” he said.  “She needed them cleaned.  They’re probably done by now.”

“Burn them,” she commanded.  I shot a desperate look up at her.  “We’ll be providing her new ones.  I’ll take her shopping with me.”  She gave me a small smile.  “This way you can personally choose your weapons, too.”

“But—I don’t have any money,” I said.  “I can’t buy anything.”

Sniper rolled his eyes and dug his wallet out again.  “Here,” he said, tossing me a credit card.  “Buy as many clothes as ye want.”

“But—”

“It’s not like yer going to break my bank,” he said.  “Besides, Oi owe you, since it’s my fault yer clothes are being washed—now burned.  Just take it.”

I looked down at the card, then at him, then back at the card.  “…Okay.”  I gently took the card and pocketed it.

“Ready, then?” Miss Pauling asked.  I nodded.  “Come on, then, my car is out front.”

 ..............

“Sorry I didn’t come get you yesterday like planned,” Miss Pauling said as we sped down the road in her little car.  “I…ran into some complications with one of the errands I was running.”

“It’s fine,” I said, sitting stiffly in the seat.  I was trying to touch as little of the car as possible.  Who knew how she’d react if I started poking around?

She slid a glance over to me.  “Is everything alright?  You seem a little nervous.”

“I, uh, don’t like meeting new people,” I said, trying to avoid her gaze.  “You don’t seem so bad, though.”

She smiled at that.  “Must have been hard meeting all the boys at once, huh?”

“You have no idea,” I moaned, flopping my head back before I realized what I was doing.  “Soldier was a straight up asshole, yelling in my face.”

“And I’m sure Scout was trying to flirt with you the minute he laid eyes on you,” she grinned.  “And Heavy was immediately protective.”

“Yep, and yep,” I said.  “Pyro tackled me in a hug, Demo offered me a bottle of Scrumpy, and Spy was playing Mr. Coy Devil.  Engie was a total sweetheart and got to work on making me a wheelchair”

“That sounds like the boys,” she giggled.  “They’re always like that, even when on a mission.”

“Great, just what I look forward to in partners—complete unprofessionalism.”  We laughed.  “Seriously though, they’re not that bad, once you get used to them.  Scout’s a little shit and so is Spy, just older, and Heavy and Engie are total sweethearts, Medic’s kinda crazy but in a good way I guess?  Pyro’s…odd but he usually is with Engie so I don’t have to worry, Demo’s a drunk but not a mean one, Soldier is a little overbearing but you get used to it, and Sniper’s a nice guy, once you get past the social awkwardness.”

Miss Pauling laughed.  “You just summed up everything I’ve been trying to tell my boss for an entire year.  She thinks these guys are dangerous—and they are, believe me—but they know who’s in charge.  I think the only one stupid enough to go after the Administrator would be Soldier.”

“Scout might, if he got a date out of a girl in the process,” I said.  “Spy?  Eh, maybe, if it benefitted him.  The rest?  Nah.”

Miss Pauling smiled.  “Glad to know somebody isn’t completely paranoid or insane around here.”  She shot me a panicked look.  “Don’t tell the Administrator I said that.”

“As long as you don’t tell Scout that I think he’s actually kinda cute and I’d date him if he’d drop the damn ‘it’s all about me’ crap.”

She laughed again.  “Deal.  Oh, here we are!”

She pulled into the parking lot of a mall and parked near one of the shop entrances.  “Well, let’s go then!”

I followed her into one of the clothing stores, feeling a bit out of place in my men’s khaki shorts and red shirt with the yellow crosshairs.  I didn’t like standing out—it meant being spotted easily.  Black, white, and grey were more my colors, because they were the easiest to forget.  In the right clothes, I could be just another face in the crowd.  But standing around in brightly colored men’s clothes, next to a woman in bright purple?  Easy to remember, easy to put a face too.  I ducked my head as we passed people and cameras, trying not to draw attention to myself.

“Something wrong?” Miss Pauling asked when she saw me hesitate.

“It’s just—I stand out,” I said, darting my eyes around and hoping no one was looking at me.  I shoved my hand in my pocket, running my fingers reassuringly over the balisong Sniper had given me on my first day at the base.  “Can we hurry and find something that doesn’t make me stand out as much?”  I tugged nervously at the hem of the shirt.

She gave me a sympathetic look and took my hand.  “Come on, I know where the women’s section is.”  She hurried me through the store, straight for the women’s section.  Luckily, there was no one there save for a bored looking girl at the customer service desk twenty feet away, doodling on some paper.  She led me over to a rack filled with nondescript black and gray shirts.  “Take your pick,” she said.  “Changing rooms are over there.  I’ll search for a pair of jeans for you.  What size do you wear?”

I told her my size and snatched up the first shirt I found that would fit me and dashed for the changing rooms.  I grabbed an empty room for myself and stripped down to the boxers, tugging the shirt over my head.  It was just a plain grey shirt without any markings on it.  Perfect.

Miss Pauling tapped on the door to my booth and I jumped.  “Sheila?  I’ve got a pair of jeans.  Want to try them on?”

“Yeah, just throw them over the door,” I said.  “And can you go find me a bra real quick too?  Apparently they’re lacking them at the base.  I wear 34B.”

I heard her giggle at my stupid joke as she threw the jeans over the door.  “I’ll be right back.”  I watched her legs disappear before tugging the jeans on.  They were a little loose around the waist, but nothing the belt Sniper had let me borrow wouldn’t fix.

Again with the tapping.  “One bra, size 34B,” Miss Pauling said, tossing a plain white bra over the door.  “I already took the tag off, so you can wear it out.  I’ll wait out here.”  I heard her shoes click against the floor as she left the changing rooms again.

I slipped the grey shirt off again and adjusted the bra straps before slipping it on.  Then back on with the grey shirt.  I bundled all of Sniper’s clothes up and left the booth.

Miss Pauling was sitting on the bench just outside the entrance to the changing rooms.  “I’ll run those out to the car,” she said, standing up and taking Sniper’s clothes.  “You’ll be okay in here by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said.  “Now that I’m in these clothes, I’ll be alright.”

She nodded.  “Okay.  You keep looking for clothes—I’ll be right back.”  She scurried off to the doors we’d entered from.

I sighed.  It would be so easy to just walk away, right now.  Not get caught up in anything she or the guys back at the base were involved in.  The question was—which decision was safer?  On one hand, I was pretty good at being on my own and sending money to my brother on the occasions that I got some.  It was more my comfort zone.  On the other, I was being offered food, shelter, clothes, food, and enough money to set me and my brother up for years.  The only drawback was the guys I would be working with, and perhaps my boss as well, were mercenaries—they might have connections to them, and if they got wind of where I was…I was, to put it lightly, fucked.  But did the benefits outweigh the risks?

I was so deep in thought I didn’t realize Miss Pauling had returned until she was waving a hand in front of my face.  “Yoo-hoo, Sheila?  You there?”

I started.  “Uh—yeah.  Sorry.  I was…spacing out.”

She gave me a slightly doubtful look but shrugged.  “Did you find anything else you like?  I mean you’ll be getting your own shirt with your class logo for the missions, like everyone else, but it doesn’t hurt to have some extra, every day clothes, either.  You’ll probably want to get something formal, too, for the annual convention.”

“I just—isn’t this enough?” I asked, gesturing to what I was already wearing.  “I don’t need much.”

She tilted her head to the side.  “You’re sure?”

I ducked my head.  “Well…no.”  Shopping was actually one of the few things I enjoyed, despite not being able to very often.  “It’s just—I don’t like charity.”

“Then pay Sniper back after your first check,” she said.  “And honestly, it’s not charity, he’s doing this because he wants you to be happy.  All the guys do, I can tell.  Why else would Medic order the most expensive ingredients for his formula?  Why else would Sniper offer to wash your clothes for you while you were in the shower?  They’re all just trying to help you.  You know, it doesn’t hurt to take help when you need it.”

“I don’t need it,” I snapped, immediately regretting it when a hurt look flickered across her face.  “Sorry.  I just—sorry.”  I rubbed my arm.  “So, formal wear for the annual convention?  What do you suggest?”

“Something sleek, to go with your frame,” she said, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully.  “Maybe strapless.  You’ve got the look to pull it off, unlike me.”

“I dunno, I think you could pull it off, if you found the right dress,” I said, following her over to where the formal wear was.

That earned me a smile.  “Thanks, but I really doubt it.”

“Nonsense,” I said.  I gave the racks a once-over.  “Look, the stuff here is crap.  Let’s go to somewhere that specializes in formal wear.  You can help me find the perfect dress, and I’ll help you.”

She gave me a skeptical look.  “Wherever we go, it’s going to probably be more than I can afford,” she said.

I dug Sniper’s card out of my pocket and held it up between two fingers.  “He said there was no way I could break his bank, right?”  I grinned wickedly.  “Wanna help me try?”

 ..............

Twenty minutes later, after having bought my current outfit and some other necessities, we were at the store Miss Pauling swore up and down was the best to get formal wear.  They would custom tailor a dress or a suit for you if it didn’t fit, and they had all the latest fashions.  We tried on dress after dress after dress, the sales clerk either nodding enthusiastically or frowning in disapproval with each style.

Finally, Miss Pauling found one that fit her beautifully.  It was a strapless red little cocktail dress that fanned out when you spun around.

“I don’t know,” she said, adjusting it up a little more.  “Do you really think it works?”

“Yes,” the sales clerk and I said together.

“Darling, it’s you!” the sales clerk said.  “Give us a spin!”  She did so, slowly, then another, faster one.  “Marvelous, just marvelous!”

“It’s a little…tight, right here,” she said, gesturing to her chest.

“We’ll adjust it,” he said.  “Now go change, while I find something suitable for Miss Sheila.”  He disappeared into the racks.

Miss Pauling shot me a look.  “Mind helping me out of this?  It was hard enough to get into, and I don’t want to rip it.”

“Sure.”  I followed her into the changing booth and shut the door.  “It does look good on you, though.  The boys are going to flip, especially Scout.”

She blushed a little at that.  “Oh, please.  Just help me out, will you?”  We managed to get the dress up and over her head so she could wriggle free.  “I’m just hoping the boys on the BLU team won’t get jealous when they see me wearing red.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, turning my back to hang up the dress while she put her clothes back on.

“The Administrator and I work for both sides,” she said.  “She keeps them in line, and I run her errands.  It’s kind of the reason why I wear purple—but they boys don’t know that, so please don’t tell them.  I’m not supposed to tell you, either.”

“You’re secret is safe with me,” I swore.  “You know, you can probably request this in a different color, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

“I just might,” she said.  “But the red looks so good, I don’t know if I should.”

“Honestly, I don’t think you should.  Let the BLU boys be jealous.  They’ll get over it.”  I held up the dress and frowned, trying to imagine it in a different color.  “No, red works best with this dress.”

“Miss Sheila?  Are you in there?”  The sales clerk had returned.  “Come out, I think I found the perfect dress for you!”

I opened the door and Miss Pauling and I stepped out to see what he had brought back.  It was a floor-length, silvery strapless dress that seemed to cascade down to the floor.  Small sequins were sown onto the bodice, making it shimmer slightly.

“Oh my god, you have to try that on,” Miss Pauling said, pushing me back into the booth.  “Just do it!”

I took the dress and shut the door, changing quickly.  The material was very soft and seemed to float around my legs.  It felt a little loose around my middle, and my chest wasn’t quite big enough to hold keep it up, so I pressed my arms to my sides to hold it there.

“Come on, let us see!” Miss Pauling said from the other side of the door.

I took two deep breaths to steady myself and opened the door, stepping out.  They both gasped and Miss Pauling’s hands flew to her mouth.

“Oh, Sheila…” she breathed.

I ducked my head, feeling a blush coming on.  “It’s that bad, huh?”

“No, no!  It’s—It’s perfect!  Oh my gosh!”  She smiled.  “If you thought the guys were going to flip over me, they’re going to faint over you!”

“They’re going to lose their minds,” the sales clerk agreed.  “As the French say, Vous avez l'air magnifique!”  I grimaced at his accent.  Spy would have cringed.  Or stabbed him.  Or both.

“It’s kinda loose, though,” I said, tugging at the skirt.  “Course, Medic said I needed to add some weight anyway…”

“You’ll grow into it,” Miss Pauling assured.  “I don’t think we’ll need to tailor it for you.”

“You really think it works?” I asked, twisting around to look at the back.

“Definitely,” she said, ushering me back into the booth.  “Now, get changed so we can find the right shoes to go with these!”

............... 

She ended up getting a pair of black heels that went with her dress really well, while I settled for just simple white flats.  I nearly balked at the price for everything, until she reminded me that Sniper was the one paying for this and it had been my idea in the first place to try and break his bank.  I reluctantly handed over the card, wincing when I imagined having to pay this all back.  I just hoped I was being paid well enough that I could pay Sniper back and put my brother through college and still have enough to support myself, even modestly.

“Well that was fun,” Miss Pauling said as we exited the store, new outfits neatly folded in bags.  “Now just to go over the contract and get you your weapons.”

“Right, I’ve been thinking about that,” I said as we loaded the car up with our purchases.  “What are the limits on what weapons I can have?”

“You can have up to three on the battlefield at a time,” she said.  “It’s recommended that you have at least one melee and one long-range weapon, possibly two.  Other than that, it’s really up to you.”

“So, say throwing knives and a pistol would be perfectly alright?” I asked as we got into our respective seats.

“A pistol would be perfect, and Sniper did say you were quite adept at handling knives,” she said.  She dug around in her purse and pulled out a file and a pen.  “Here you go, just read this over and sign.”

“Then throwing knives, the best you can get,” I said.  “And if I can request a specific pistol, I’d like a Smith & Wesson Model 500.”

She slid a glance over to me.  “That’s a pretty powerful pistol.”

“Is it against the rules?”

“No, it’s just…can you handle a pistol that powerful?”

“Easily.”  I flipped through the file she handed me.  Mostly it outlined my different duties and that I would have a base salary with potential for bonuses as the Administrator saw fit, a disclosure agreement that said none of what went on was to be discussed with the general public, an information page where I could fill out my bank information, the normal stuff you’d expect to see in a contract like this.

Bolded words at the bottom caught my eye.  They read:

FROM HERE ON OUT YOU ARE TO BE REFERRED TO AS “THE ROGUE.”  UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO REVEAL YOUR NAME TO ANYONE.  DOING SO VIOLATES THIS CONTRACT AND YOU MAY BE FIRED AS A RESULT.

“ ‘The Rogue’?  Seriously?” I asked.

“That’s your title,” Miss Pauling said.  “Believe me, it was by far the best that we could come up with.”

I shrugged and signed at the dotted line like I was supposed to.  “There we go, all set.”  I set the papers on the dash.  “So, when do I start?”

“Tomorrow,” she said.  “I’ll bring your weapons and uniform around later tonight.”  She gave a wry grin.  “We never did get around to shopping for weapons, did we?”

“We were too busy blowing Sniper’s money on clothes,” I giggled as we pulled into the base.  I got out of the car and gathered up my bags.  “Thanks, Miss Pauling, I’ll see you later.”

“It was nice meeting you, Sheila.  Oh, I’m sorry—Rogue.”  She grinned at me and left the base.