We're cruising by at a solid 85 miles per hour, the desert landscape passing too quickly for me to focus on anything. Sand plumes behind us. The sun makes sure everyone knows she exists, burning my skin and reflecting off of Miss Pauling's helmet right into my retinas. My arms wrap around her stomach since she doesn't have handles on the side for sitting support.
"Hey, are you sure you really want to accept this assignment?" Miss Pauling yells to be heard over her engine. "Last call to bail out!"
"I thought the last call was when we first hit the road!" I yell back.
"That was the Administrator's last call, mine is right now!"
I turn my head slightly to get the reflection out of my eyes. "I think it'll be fine! I have three little brothers back home who would get into trouble all the time!"
Her shoulders move as if she's laughing. She increases speed. I move an arm to turn around easier to ensure my luggage is still strapped to the rack on the rear of her moped. Returning back to my normal position, she starts to slow some. The canyon wall beside us sees a small break, our vehicle slowing down to stop at it. A cardboard cut out of a bush and a not-very-convincing curtain rest in front of what I can assume to be a cave. Miss Pauling dismounts and deploys the kickstand to keep her bike upright.
"We're here," she chimes tauntingly.
I throw my leg over to get off, taking off my helmet and resting it on my seat. My escort helps me with taking my luggage down but is denied the allowance of helping me take it in. I sling my backpack on and pull the handle to my suitcase up, rolling it along as we approach the opening. Dust sticks to my skin while sweat acts as the adhesive, definitely warranting a clothing change once I get settled in. Miss Pauling has stains on her underarms, meaning I certainly have them, too.
Beeping is heard and sentries target us as we push the curtain open. She sighs and rolls her eyes, beckoning me forward with the promise they won't go off since we're wearing purple. I chug along beside her, keeping up so then they'll get the both of us if she's wrong. The turret follows us, whirring its focus back to the curtain after we're far enough out of range. We walk up to the first building we see, a garage that gives me mechanic vibes. The door opens as we approach. Figures shuffle around inside and voices can be heard, bickering for the most part. Miss Pauling stops me.
"Now, listen. These guys are more than just 'a rowdy bunch,' alright?" She whispers, straightening out my collar. "They'll take some warming up to. You're going to be subject to a lot of weird behaviors, and you just have to power through it. They can be quite pleasant, but just a bit overbearing."
She nods and sighs, leading me over to the garage entrance. She hangs back and motions for me to enter, my feet carrying me in before I have the chance to ready myself. I'm met with a room of 3 men, all of their personalities seeming clear just by the way they present themselves. We stand and stare at one another for a few awkward moments until Miss Pauling makes her way in and breaks the ice.
"Guys, this is the assistant I was telling you about. She's here to help you with things around the base that's not within my job description," she introduces me, a meek greeting escaping my throat.
"What's up? They call me Scout," the lanky one starts, touting a Boston accent and making his way over to me to get up close and personal. He doesn't look like much physically, looking comparatively weaker than the other two present in the room. "And, this is a fort, Miss Pauling."
"It's the same thing!" She scoffs.
"It's a fort." The doctor-looking fellow stays planted where he is. Doves occupy his shoulders and he speaks in a German accent. "I'm Medic, please refer to me as such."
The last one wears a gas mask and just... observes. I turn to him, and he doesn't utter a word or move a muscle. Scout speaks up for him. "That's Pyro, not much of a talker. He also prefers to call it a fort." Miss Pauling groans and rubs her temples.
"I-- I see... Hello, to you all," I say, not being able to take my eyes off of Pyro. He stares back at me just the same. Scout rests his hand on my suitcase, which takes me out of my spell. "No no, it's fine. I-I've got it."
Scout chuckles and pulls it away from me. "It's not polite to have a lady carry her own stuff."
"I-- Alrighty then," I sigh, glancing over at Miss Pauling who shrugs with a smile. I still hold onto my backpack, and I want it to stay that way for the time being.
"Where's the rest of the team?" Miss Pauling asks, pushing up her glasses.
"Around, somewhere. Do you want me to go find them?" Medic offers, stepping forward finally.
"I think it might be best if she sees them in their native state. I can't stick around for too long, though," she responds. "I'll stick around for two meetings or so, just to make sure you guys won't kill her."
"Kill me?"
"Just an expression!" She defends.
I feel cold all of a sudden and Miss Pauling laughs a little at what I assume she thought was a joke. The rest give a little chuckle, too. Except for Pyro. Pyro doesn't budge. Miss Pauling ushers me along to follow Medic, Scout branching off with my belongings. We exit the current building and transition to a bigger one, coming up to an area that seems to be a common room. There's a kitchenette and a few tables that seat 9 altogether. Traces of smoke and alcohol are prominent in the air. The fridge closes, and I turn, noticing a rather large man. He's ginormous compared to me, his hand probably able to cover my entire face. He has a plate with a sandwich on it, a gentle smile graced upon his face.
"Oh, hello there!" I greet, trying to shed the awkward skin right off the bat.
"Hello, are you new helper?" He inquires. "I am Heavy. I carry large gun, her name is Sasha."
He motions over to a machine gun resting nearby on the couch in the living area. I squint at it, mulling over the safety hazard this presents. I don't really blame him, he is wearing a vest with at least 20 rounds on it. His name also makes sense, a heavy gun for a heavyset man.
"I'll try to remember." Miss Pauling pulls me along to follow Medic some more, Heavy waving to me before sitting down to eat. The halls are well lit and give the feeling of a medical facility. Signs are posted and lit to steer in the general direction of where things are, one marked "Intelligence" which sounds a bit dumb. Large walkways with blast doors are prominent and frequent, though, hinting at defense systems.
"Ah, Demoman," Miss Pauling calls out, a man with an eyepatch stopping and turning to us. "Meet the Assistant."
"Aye, welcome lassie."
"Hi."
He continues on his way past me, Miss Pauling sighing and checking her watch. "That's my cue to leave. You're on your own. I'll miss having you as a roommate."
She pats my shoulder and gives a thumbs up, leaving me with the menacing Medic. He doesn't comment on her departure and keeps walking, forcing me to keep up. He has a clean look, what with his white dress shirt, red tie, black pants and shoes. His sleeves are rolled up and showcase his forearms. He looks back at me, and I look up at him, a smirk forming on his face that forces me to smile back. He seems pleased with our interaction and carries himself much lighter than before. The dove on his shoulder coos at me, while cocking its head.
"His name is Archimedes Two," Medic explains.
"What happened to one?" I question.
"He's... lost."
I nod and turn my attention to the next person who extends a greeting to me. "Well, I'll be. Are you the new assistant?"
I enter another garage area with a guy wearing construction gear sitting at a bench and tinkering with a module tucked away in a toolbox. I have a feeling, I'm going to hearing that same phrase a ton. "Yes, I am. Hello there."
"I'm Engineer, Engie for short," he speaks. He gets up and takes off his hard hat, wiping his forehead with one hand while extending his arm to shake my hand with the other. I take it up and give a firm shake, earning a whoop from Engineer. "You give a mighty fine shake there, Miss."
"Thank you," I respond, unsure if that was even the right response. He smiles, and I forcefully smile back once more.
"Yo! See you've met Engie," Scout calls, pushing past Medic to get to us.
"Oh, you're back," I comment, Engineer not being too thrilled with Scout's presence.
He pushes the skinnier boy out, despite being shorter than him. "Now, you know how I feel about you being in here, Scout. Move along!" He warns, effectively throwing out Scout, me in tow. "It was nice meeting you!"
I wave to him and run to catch up to both Medic and Scout, stepping into an elevator with the two. The soft hum of the apparatus fills in the silence and the floor ding prompts us to get going. The hallways are darker now, dingy and claustrophobic. There's a greenish-brown filter over my vision. The scent of tobacco only gets stronger. I try to stay in the middle of the hall to the best of my ability, but a certain someone is making that very difficult. Scout is the kind to be in your personal bubble, just a few steps too close to me than I'd like for a stranger.
"So, where ya from?" He asks, trying to step up away from the stranger phase.
"Around," I answer. "You?"
"Boston," he purrs. "Massachusetts."
"And you, Medic?" I quickly spew, trying to stave off the embarrassment.
"Germany," he states without missing a beat. He slows down and stops in front of a door. He knocks and waits, knocking again when there's no response. He grumbles and opens the door, a french voice spitting out an aggressive "go away."
"Bonjour!" I tout as I stick my head in the doorway. "Je suis le nouvel assistant qui est là pour aider aux opérations de la base."
Both Medic and Scout idle by in silence while the man sitting in the room looks on in approval, standing up to get a closer look at me. "So you speak French?"
"That of a young child. I only took two classes in grade school," I disclose, feeling rather proud of myself for remembering enough to say that.
"I, am Spy," he reveals. "Pleasure to have you as an addition to the team. Also, please, this is a fort."
"Glad to be here," I say, very unapproving of what I'm saying at this point. Why are they all sticklers about what we call this place? I open my mouth again against my will. "I like your suit."
My body cringes slightly, why am I like this? He doesn't pick up on it though. "Thank you."
"Alright, alright. Let's get a move on, don't flatter Fancy Pants too much," Scout gabs, pulling me away and herding Medic along for the ride. Medic closes the door behind us and we trek back down to the main floor, Scout suggesting that we swing by my room so I can drop off the rest of my items and change. I agree with that notion and have the skinny boy guide me as Medic breaks away from our trio to return to his daily duties. He avoids conversation this time and walks us across a large, open warehouse area to the other side, barracks being just beyond the blast door.
We turn the corner, and I'm nearly given a heart attack when I'm welcomed by a very invasive "Ma'am, Soldier reporting as requested!"
I scream and stumble back to the floor, Scout pulling a baseball bat from his backpack. He groans and taps the bowl helmet on the other's head. Scout reaches out a hand to help me up. "That's Soldier. He's a bootlicker."
"Oh-- Haha, uh-- Nice to meet you, Soldier," I nervously laugh. My heart beats in my throat and in my temples. He still stands at attention, a thousand-yard stare about him. I grumble, standing in front of him and saluting. He salutes then waits for me to drop my arm before his. He does an about-face away from me when I mutter "fall out."
"Is your family military?" Scout asks, returning his weapon to its proper place.
"My uncle," I mumble, pushing his arm to tell him that I want to go to my room. We traverse to the end of the hallway, Scout telling me that he'll be waiting in his room two doors down. I sigh and close the door behind me, now knowing what Miss Pauling meant when she said they weren't just "rowdy boys."
I look out the window that lets in light to my bare living quarters, closing the curtains some just in case a passerby sees me. Undressing and alleviating myself from my gross clothing, I lift my arms to air out some. The air conditioning running through the building doing a remarkable job of cooling me down in this desert heat. I step over to my backpack and pull out some wipes and deodorant, cleaning up to the best of my ability without access to a shower. Choosing a purple dress shirt and a black knee-length skirt, I look in the mirror to deduce I resemble Miss Pauling. The outfit is already on, so I just roll with it and throw my wipes away while reorganizing my items. Stepping out of my room, I knock two doors down and collect Scout so he can lead me to wherever we need to go.
"There's one more person to meet, right?"
"How'd you know?" Scout asserts.
"You have nine chairs in your dining area, so that means nine people live here, right?" I deduce, Scout scoffing.
He brings me back to the common area and starts putting on a pot of coffee. "You can only bother him if you come bearing a gift."
"Why do I have a feeling that that rule only applies to you?" I tease, pulling out a chair to wait for the brew. The machine sputters a few times as it struggles to fill the pot, spitting out the last drops of water as it is unable to produce anymore. Scout picks up the pot and flips the lip onto it, setting it down on the table for me to pick it up.
We make our way out of the common area to a sort of outdoor plaza between all of the buildings on-site, a tower on the other side. The journey over was much more taxing than I wished it to be, breaking a sweat when I already had cleaned up from before. Scout stops at the foot of a ladder, bowing his head and holding out his arms as though I was royalty. I look up at the top and then back down at my hand, shrugging and getting creative. I wrap my free hand around the back and lift it up to the highest rung I can reach, then stepping up with my feet, repeating this over and over until I can set the pot down on the floorboard and pull myself up.
The man inside sits still and patient, his eyes trained through a tiny scope. That's how he sees the world all day, isn't it?
I look over the balcony and wave down below at Scout who waves back. Taking a deep breath, I knock twice on the door gently and watch the man rest his weapon before standing up to let me in. He looks down at me, a ginger grin happening to be his expression. He takes off his hat to place it on his chest, moving aside and letting me in.
"I saw you come in with Miss Pauling, which makes you the assistant?"
I nod and set down the coffee next to an empty pot. "That's me."
"I'm Sniper. Keep watch of the place," he informs in a low voice, replacing his hat to his head.
"You a Kiwi?" I ask, noticing his dialect.
He lifts an eyebrow and scoffs. "Nope, Aussie."
"Ah," I confirm, not really knowing the difference between the two, to be honest. He sits back down and resumes position.
I reach over and pour the last of the first pot into his mug and then some of the fresh one to fill it. He thanks me and reaches for his mug, sitting up to drink from it. "I would suggest you close your curtains all the way, next time."
"Excuse me?"
He swirls his mug around and doesn't face me. "I saw movement in the barracks and thought you were BLU infiltrating since no alarms were raised. I see most of everything from up here, so I'd recommend keeping windows shut. That is... unless you have something to show me?"
He eyes me on the last bit, not giving me any idea of if he's trying to be gentlemanly or perverted. I nod anyway and feel the heat in my cheeks. The fan that's in here is just pushing hot air from one place to another. From first glance, it looks like he lives up here. A folding bed frame with no folding mattress is tucked away in the corner on top of some ammo boxes. The couch is worn out and showcases a divot that roughly gives me an idea of how Sniper sleeps. I walk over to it and instinctively straighten up the pillows, fold the blanket, and fluff out the cushions the best I could.
"No need for you to do that for me, Luv," Sniper coos. "The coffee is quite enough."
"Sorry, it just bothered me a little. See, I have brothers back home... And..." I slow myself down and sigh, sheepishly smiling when he gives me a raised eyebrow. "Nevermind, it's not that important."
He turns away, looks back through his scope, and scans the cracked desert landscape. I've grown very uncomfortable with the energy we have created in this watchtower today. Taking my leave without saying anything, I take the empty coffee pot with me, motioning for Scout to catch as I drop it over the balcony. Luckily, he has basic reflexes and keeps the glass from shattering on the ground. This keeps him occupied as I make my way back. He offers to helps me down the last two rungs, but I decline and have him simply escort me back to the main building to take me to my room for unpacking.
"We'll have dinner in a few hours, so relax a bit, okay?" He suggests, clicking his tongue and winking. "Someone's always around somewhere, but I don't think you'll need anything until then."
"Okay, then."
He closes my door and leaves me to myself. Thinking about what Sniper said, I rush over to my window and pull the curtain all the way over. It gets significantly darker, warranting the ceiling light. After turning it on, I decide to get to work. My thoughts are all over the place from the past hour or so, meeting all of these zany caricatures with some being more pleasant than others. I have an idea of who might like me already and who might not. Scout obviously has it for Miss Pauling, as told by her during late-night convos about how our day went and how our jobs suck. Despite this, he acted like he at the very least wanted to be pals. Engineer is rather polite, as well as Spy and Heavy... Soldier too, if I really squint hard enough. Medic is standoffish, Sniper the same, and Pyro... Is Pyro. Who was the Demoman guy anyway? It felt as though he didn't even want to talk to me at all! A sigh flees from my mouth when I drop a clothing hanger, having to kneel down to pick it up.
They all still seem like friends, though.
I retrieve it and feed it through a shirt, stowing it away in the closet. They have to be friends, right? Their lives are in each others' hands every single day, so they have to be on good terms with each other. I slide my suitcase under my bed and set my backpack on the floor of the closet. My back hits the bed, a tiny sliver of sun hitting my face from a crack in the curtain.
Miss Pauling was right: I don't know what I'm getting myself into.
---
[A/N} Howdy hey, Morbid here! I won't do these very often, but I decided to put this here for your discretion.
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