A/N: I've never put my stuff up before, so be nice if/when you decide to review this… thanks.
Please, excuse my HORRIBLE Demoman accent. I just made it up. I tried to fit with the canon Valve has already released… with varying results. Soldier is NOT crazy enough, same with Medic. Spy isn't evil enough. I do like Engineer though.
Yes, this is an OC story. Before the story begins, let me say something on the subject of "alternate timelines". For the purposes of this story, assume this to be true: Every decision or outcome in history could turn out any number of ways. For example, in one alternate realm, the Magna Carta was never written. In another, you ate an extra potato chip for lunch. This story assumes that TF2 takes place in one of the alternate universes. Yes, it's quantum physics taken to fiction.
DISCLAIMER:
Team Fortress 2 and affiliated characters are owned by: Valve
This story and Philippe are owned by: The Writer from the Black Lagoon (me)
"SNIPER!" The yell resonated through the entire base.
"Ach mine ears! Scout, you do not need to yell so laut!" Medic said.
"Doc, that cockfag stole my freakin' cap!" Scout said angrily.
"No, Oi didn't. It was Spoi what stole yer cap," Sniper said, slouching in for his coffee.
"Prolly to git a laugh offa us, boy. So yellin' ain't gonna do you no good," Engineer commented from where he sat, working on his various blueprints.
Scout sat down at the table, grumbling and swearing quietly. At that moment, the Heavy Weapons Guy walked in.
"Hello, Doktor, leetle Scout…" Heavy trailed off. He bent down next to Medic and asked, "Doktor? Why does leetle Scout have no hat?"
Before Medic could answer, Scout started yelling again. "I got no hat because that fuckin' Spy stole it again! Backstabbin' fuckin' fag…" Scout started mumbling too low to hear.
Medic sighed and said, "You see, Heavy?"
"Da. Spy like to steal things. He like having reactions. Don't yell. Act normal. Well… Normal for leetle Scout." Before said Scout could say anything, Heavy asked, "Do we have sanviches?"
"Yep, we do. Jus' look in that there refridgerator, an' don't eat 'em all, big guy. We need some fer tommara an' Monday."
"'Taren't ye gonnae go ta the market todae?" Demoman drunkenly (well, what else would he be?) staggered in.
"Vas? Oh, zat vas yesterday," Medic said.
"Jhentlemen." Spy always had to have an entrance. This time, however, he looked vaguely…disturbed.
"Hey you fuckin' cunt gimme back my cap!"
"Eef you insist. However, zhere is another…problem."
"Loike what, Spoi."
"Like zhere is a mademoiselle on our doorstep."
There was silence in the kitchen for a moment. Predictably, Scout was the first to speak up.
"You have got to be shittin' me."
"Boy, where in tarnation would a lady be comin' from 'round these parts?"
"And 'ow would I know zhat? Eef you care, you should probably get 'er inside."
"Mmmf mmf mm. Mff mmmf mmmm!"
"Wha' did ye say, laddie, ye'll have tae speak up!"
"WHY IS THERE A GIRLY MAGGOT IN FRONT OF OUR BASE?"
Silence reigned supreme in the base for a moment.
"Ach, Heavy, help me bring ze fräulein inside.
"Da, Doktor."
"Ow….why does my head hurt so much?"
The girl, who was currently laying on a patch of dusty ground, rubbed her head. Medic assessed her as he walked towards her. She did not appear to have any serious injuries, but the brunette was dressed very strangely, even for an American girl. He briefly puzzled over this, but dismissed this train of thought. She wasn't dressed in blue, after all, but a light green top and khaki pants. It was more important to find out if she was a threat. She looked at him, showing her eyes that were a bright shade of green.
"Gut, you have woken, fräulein."
"Where the hell am I, and who are you?"
Miffed, he replied, "You are at ze RED base, and I am Medic. This is ze Heavy Weapons Guy, also known as Heavy."
"What is name of leetle girl?"
"My name is Philippe. You can call me Phil, if you want," she said, standing up and brushing herself off. "Are you two alone out here, or do you… ah. I see."
Medic turned to see the entire team grouped like sheep, staring at her. He sighed. "Bitte, excuse my teammates. We don't see many newcomers out here."
"It's fine," Philippe said with a laugh. "Would you be so kind as to introduce me?"
"Da, Heavy will help leetle girl! Man in yellow helmet is Engineer, man in dark helmet is Soldier, man in mask is Spy, boy with cap is Scout (HEY!), man with eye patch is Demoman, man with vest and brown hat is Sniper, and…uh…man in gasmask and suit is Pyro. Everyone, leetle girl is Philippe."
"Please, call me Phil."
There were varied greetings from everyone (although she couldn't tell what Pyro was saying).
"Jhentlemen, lady and unknown (Mmmf!), I am truly sorry to impose on ze wonderful greetings, but we need to know just 'ow you got 'ere," Spy said, tapping some ash from his cigarette.
"I'd love to tell you, except I have no idea whatsoever. Last time I remember I was sitting at my desk using my computer and-"
"Whassa (Hic!) com-whatsis?" Demoman asked.
"You're kidding." They just looked at her blankly. She slapped her forehead. "What year is it? And would someone at least reassure me I'm in the right country?" She had a bad feeling about this.
"MAGGOT! YOU'RE IN THE BLESSED UNITED STATES OF AMERICA AND IT IS THE YEAR OF 1968!" There were numerous expressions of disbelief and annoyance among the gathered men. Philippe raised an eyebrow.
"Do you always shout? As far as I know, we're all right here."
"YES…er…No, maggot!" Apparently, a glare from Medic and Engineer was enough to make him settle down. But Philippe had other problems.
"Wait, did you say 1968?"
Updates will be forthcoming.