Hello all! (Well maybe one or two,). It is I! Dwarfiarty! I have uploaded yet another story. (Well...it's only my second one.) I am proud to present my Team Fortress 2 story: The Storm Rises
As Marxs ran around inside the BLU base with their intelligence strapped to their back, he wondered for what felt like the hundredth time, why the Hell he'd joined RED co. in the first place. So far this round he'd dealt with what seemed like an invincible scout, (annoying as all get out as well), an incredibly drunk demoman and a sentry gun and it's over protective Engineer. All the while trying to avoid being shot, stabbed or otherwise maimed enough for him to respawn.
"I've got the bloody intel!" The young rifleman yelled across 2Fort, "Cover me!" Not waiting long enough to see if anyone heard him, Marxs continued to run across the bridge that separated him from his side. Narrowly dodging a BLU Demo's bomb, Marxs grinned through his bandanna as he glanced over his shoulder: Those idiots would never catch him. As soon as these words formed in his mind, he instantly regretted thinking them. He heard the Spy uncloak, and immediately did a three-sixty turn only to find the French assassin right in front of him.
"Surprise!" he grinned wickedly, pulling his knife out and bringing it down towards Marxs' chest.
Dodging the blow, Marxs brought out his own knife, which was considerably larger than the Spy's.
The spy laughed, "So ze boy has 'is own knife eh?" He said, his accent oozing over every word, "Let us see if 'e can use eet!"
Before either mercenary could move however, a shot rang out and the Frenchmen's head exploded.
"Chew on that piss 'ead!" Yelled the RED sniper, "You're clear Rifleman!'
"Thanks Sniper!" Shouted Marxs sprinting through the doors of his base. On the way inside he nearly crashed into the scout, but the young Bostonian merely slid through his legs.
"Oh yeah!" He shouted smirking cockily, "That was quite the move right Rile ol' buddy?" Before the British mercenary could respond he was interrupted by another voice.
"GO, GO, GO!" Roared the Heavy, pushing past Marxs, "We vill cover you leetle Riflman!"
"Ja!" The Medic said from behind the Heavy, Medigun ready, "Schnell Herr Rifleman!"
The young mercenary nodded and ran past his teammates. Dodging the other members of his team, Marxs winced as he heard a collective yell and an explosion from behind him. Ignoring the sounds of an everyday occurrence, Marxs ran into the dimly lit room where his team's intelligence was. Grinning, the mercenary threw the BLU intelligence into the capture point.
"VICTORY!" The cool voice of the Administrator said, and with that Marxs walked leisurely out of the dark room and into the light of the day. Cracking his knuckles and rubbing them on his shirt as if he was polishing them.
""It's a good day to be me," he smirked before heading back towards his base.
Entering the main part of the base, Marxs was greeted by a large bear hug from the Heavy. Grinning still, the young Rifleman patted his large Russian friend on the back.
"You did vell!" he roared, his voice filled with happiness, "You win again!"
"Indeed," a French accent said from behind Marxs, "Exceptional! But vhat did we expect?"
"Thanks Jean," Chuckled Marxs as he was let down by the Heavy, shaking the Spy's hand, "Couldn't have done it if hadn't stopped that sentry,"
Jean shrugged, "Eet is my job non?" he chuckled.
Marxs smiled at his old friend, "Hey listen, I'll be late to our little party, I've got to take a shower,"
Jean raised a hand, "Say no more Mon ami…please,"
The Rifleman chuckled and made his way down the hall to his room, grabbing a new set of clothes along the way. On the way to the showers, he bumped into the Engineer who was in the room next to him.
"Hey Rifleman, how you doin'?" smiled the southerner.
"Just fine, and you?" Marxs asked walking backwards now, trying to make his way to stake claim to the shower before anyone else could, but trying to make conversation with the Engineer at the same time.
"Fine, fine, just about to unwrap myself a box I got in the mail from RED co." The engineer said, excitement in his voice, "See if I got myself a new wrench, or gun, or maybe even a new hardhat,"
"Maybe," smiled Marxs, "Hey I've got to go take a shower…"
"Oh! Right! See you 'round Rifle!"
Marxs smiled, waving to the Engineer, and continued to make his way to the shower. Opening the metal door, the Rifleman sighed. It'd been a long day, and he deserved this small time to himself. Undressing himself, the young mercenary turned the water to boiling hot. He'd never been fond of the heat, but it was the only way to truly enjoy a shower. He grabbed the shampoo bottle that had been bought by Jean, (some fancy French brand), and squirted its contents onto his head. As he ran his hands through his thick, yet organized hair, he began to think. Something was amiss with RED co, something he couldn't place. Some might think he was crazy, but Marxs had gotten these gut feelings before, and they never were wrong. Marxs sighed and leaned against the wall of the shower; this wasn't right. He could feel tension from an unknown source, feel something building. Whispers of people being fired left right and center, Mercs being transferred for no tactical reason at all, and then…that word…the word that struck fear into the hearts of every high ranking RED and BLU official: Rebellion.
Marxs turned the water off. Rubbing his hands over his face, the young RED co employee decided to keep his mind off of business that he had no reason getting into. Stepping out of the shower Marxs sighed in relief, he had needed that: Desperately. It was a struggle to get a decent shower so soon after a battle, but it seemed as if the team was giving Marxs an all access pass to the showers thanks to his win today. Pulling on his boxers and pants, the British mercenary looked up at himself in the mirror. His hair, usually kept combed over, was all a frizz, making looking wild and matted. Laughing quietly, the mercenary attempted to comb it with his fingers, which he discovered after a few seconds of trying, was impossible. Opening the medicine cabinet, Marxs grabbed Bruce's comb and ran it through his hair, taming the wild beast that lived on top of hi skull. Satisfied with its appearance, the Englishman threw on his shirt and tied his bandanna around his neck, and after gingerly placing his beloved beret on top his head, walked out of the Bathroom.
Walking down the hall, Marxs made his way past the Soldier, Heavy and Demo.
"'Ey lad," The Demo said his one good eye twinkling, "Good win today,"
"Demoman ees right," Heavy said nodding, "Leetle man did good today!"
"Thanks guys," Marxs said beaming, "I appreciate- Soldier, what the hell are you doing?"
Heavy and Demo turned around to see what Marxs was looking at: Soldier, for reasons only known to himself, was squeezing a brick in his big meaty, strong hands.
"This brick is obviously a communist listening device!" The American shouted, still trying to rip the brick apart, "It has a "S" on it! That could stand for Stalin! Or Soviet!"
"Or stupid," The Demoman said quietly.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!"
"Nutin'"
"Well...good luck destroying that...listening device soldier, see you guys." Marxs said one eyebrow raised.
Finally making his way outside, Marxs was greeted by the very mercenary he was looking for.
"Marxs! Finally made it did ya?" Bruce said, sniper rifle in one hand.
"Of course! Think I forgot about our usual victory drink?" Marxs said pulling his friend into a one armed hug, "Ye of little faith!"
Bruce laughed, setting down his rifle, "No, no, I knew'd ya show up sooner or later, speaking of showin' up, ya seen Jean?"
"No, I haven't," Marxs said, sighing in frustration, "He's supposed to be here already!"
""O is to say zat I am not already?" A voice said into Marxs' ear.
Jumping and letting several curse words out, the Rifleman turned around to see a doubled over and laughing Jean, whose laugh was echoed by Bruce.
"I take it you knew he was here?" Marxs said slightly irritated.
"Of course," Jean said, regaining his composure, "You were taking too long so..." he shrugged.
"Whatever," Marxs said waving his hand dismissively. "Did you bring the stuff?"
"Of course!"Jean said reaching inside his coat and producing three bottles of beer, "Voila!"
"Ah, brilliant!" Bruce smiled, taking one of the bottles Jean proffered to him.
"Thanks mate," Marxs said, grinning at the French Assassin, also taking one.
The three opened their bottles and raised them.
"To another successful battle!" Marxs said beaming.
"To many more!" Bruce added.
"To us!" Jean added before clinking his glass against his comrade's.
The three mercenaries drank in silence, enjoying each others company.
"Would anyone care for a cigarette?" Jean said pulling out his case, "I am providing."
"I'll take one," Bruce nodded, taking a cigarette from Jean's outstretched hand, "Thanks Jean."
"Marxs mon ami," Jean said a she lit the Australian's smoke, "Would you care for one?"
"I've got my own supply," Marxs said pulling out a case similar to Jean's and taking one out.
Marxs lit his smoke and leaned back against the wall near which they were standing. All three took a long drag from their cigarettes, blowing out puffs of smoke at the same time.
"So,"Marxs said knocking ashes from his cigarette and taking a sip from his beer, "What's new between you two?"
Bruce shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette, "Not much, me mum and dad are alroit, or as alroit as they can be...still not supportive of the job,"
"Zat is to be expected though,"Jean said patting the sniper's shoulder sympathetically, "Not every parent expects their child to grow up to kill."
"Aye, he's right," Marxs said finishing his cigarette, pulling out another, "My parents still aren't entirely thrilled that I'm a hired mercenary." Marxs took another drink of his beer, "What bout you Jean? Anything new?"
"Eh, ze same as usual," Jean said shaking his head, "I 'ave 'eard rumors zough," he said talking quietly, forcing Bruce and Marxs to lean in Jean's direction, "Zat we are to gain anzoer team member."
"What?" Marxs said, his eyes widening, "Why the hell would they do that? We already outnumber the BLU team by one thanks to me."
"Not only that, but who else could they add?" Bruce added, sounding confused, "We already have a spoi, demoman, me, rifleman, maydic, engineer, scout, soldier and pyro."
"I would not know," Jean said shrugging, and zat mon ami's iz a rare occurrence."
The three mercenaries chuckled and fell into silence. Marxs though, while putting on a face of mere curiosity was thinking furiously. Why would RED co add yet another player in this giant chess match? Why risk BLU one upping them? Was this even going to be a man with a mind of his own or was he going to be a pawn to RED co? Once again that feeling in his gut returned, and he couldn't help but feel this was in response to the recent firings of mercenaries. What if- No. Marxs shook his head. One thing at a time. This was just a rumor, and that was it. They had gotten no messages from the Administrator, and no indications from RED co that any person would be joining the team. If a person joined the team, he would follow his gut then. And he knew Jean and Bruce would support him.
Looking at his two friends he smiled. All three had known each other for three years, and had hit it off almost instantly. Well, Marxs and Bruce had, Jean took some getting used to but in the end became a vital part of the trio. Marxs was the youngest of the three but was by no means less respected by the other two. Bruce came up a few years in front of him and was like a father figure to the young mercenary. Jean, the oldest of the three also shared some father like qualities to Marxs.
Sighing, Marxs threw his second cigarette to the ground, "Well gents," Marxs said walking towards the large metal door to the Ready Up room. "I think I'm gonna turn in for tonight."
"Alroit, G'night mate!" Bruce said patting the young man's shoulder.
"Sleep well mon ami!" Jean smiled.
Walking inside, Marxs un-clipped his belt from his waist, removing his knife. Opening his locker, the rifleman put his sidearm into inside before taking his rifle from its sling on his shoulder. After placing his gun inside his locker and locking it up again, Marxs made his way down the hall to his room. Opening the door to his room Marxs removed his beloved beret and placed it on the dresser next to his bed. Sighing in frustration, Marxs began to pace the room. Ever since the war with Gray Mann started, RED and BLU had changed. But why? Why was there this feeling of unrest? His team hadn't been touched by transfers or sackings yet, thank God, but Marxs feared it was only a matter of time. Something was going on...and Marxs couldn't figure it out what it was for the life of him.
Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be out soon! I would like to thank Divergency (FANTASTIC writer) for helping me develop Marxs. Please read her story "Wherever we Go", It is by far, one of the best TF2 Fanfics you will read.