He supposed that they had been friends since they met.
Despite repetitive blows to the head and trips through respawn, he remembers it pretty clearly. At least, most of it.
It hadn't been too long ago. 1968. RED had designated him 'Soldier', and he wouldn't have it any other way. He had stood there at the edge of the desert and a small, backward town with his backpack ready and full of his possessions. He didn't have much; some of his beautifully won medals (that he had NOT made himself, don't trust what anyone says), his beloved shovel, a shotgun and some rounds, and a few rations he scrounged up from the town. He didn't exactly know how he was getting there - he had received a few reports and letters but, not that he'd ever admit it, he had trouble reading them for too long. But he understood he had to stand here, and at exactly 13:00 hours some transport would arrive.
He glanced at his watch. It was 14:37.
He huffed a little, scowling from under his helmet. The helmet was his own, and he'd be damned if these new employers would try to take it away. They hadn't given him any kind of uniform as of yet; he stood in the dust in an old camo jacket and a pair of rough jeans. At least he looked the part of a soldier.
"It's alright, shovel." He holstered his backpack a little as he grumbled, addressing his most trusted weapon. "We can wait."
From under his helmet in his far peripherals, a small dust cloud appeared. And it grew. And it grew.
Within a few moments, the cloud became a rusted truck and it trundled to a stop before him.
The driver-side door was booted open, and a stocky man hopped down in front of Soldier and stretched.
"Howdy." he smiled up at Soldier, not attempting to peer under his helmet as so many others tended to do. He seemed polite, at least.
"Y'all must be the Soldier! Well I reckon, anyway, you wouldn't be here if ya weren't."
He was a good head shorter than Solider, but broad with hidden muscle. Good.
"Sorry for the wait there, fella. Scout in the back there was busting for a piss, so we hadta make a little detour."
He was clean shaven, with clipped hair, and eyes hidden behind goggles. Good. Clever.
"Well you can come hop on in the front with me; you're the last stop, and the others are meetin' us at the base."
His accent was Texan, so obviously American. Very good. Soldier hadn't been listening to a word the short man was saying, eyes silently scanning the man before him. He too had not been issued a uniform yet either - he was clad in an old tartan shirt with the sleeves rolled up. As he gestured for Soldier to come into the cabin of the truck, the sunlight highlighted the dusting of blonde hair that speckled over his arms. He hid his eyes beneath his helmet as he climbed into the truck.
He glanced back, peering into the dimmer light of the back of the truck.
There sat a younger man - fairly tall, gangly, lean. He wore a baseball cap and gave a slight frown as he looked out the window.
Besides him was another figure. Despite the heat of the desert sun reaching perhaps ninety degrees Fahrenheit, he wore a thick gasmask and overcoat, no skin on show at all. Between them were several bags - two rucksacks similar to Soldiers own, a few toolboxes, a suitcase and, surprisingly to Soldier, a guitar-case.
The Soldier turned back around in his seat, saying nothing to the pair and instead looking at the road ahead as the short man next to him settled in his seat. The driver leant over and offered his hand.
"I'm gonna be the teams Engineer, so you can just call me that."
He glanced at him from the corner of his eyes before taking his hand. "I'm the Soldier." The Engineers handshake was firm and confident, welcoming. A small smile breached Soldiers usual frown. It was a good start to something that remained good.
The drive was long, and fairly peaceful besides the man in the back - whom to Soldier assumed was the Scout - periodically kicking the back of his chair to complain about the heat, or needing a drink or a rest, and one incident when Engineer sharply braked as some desert creature scurried in front of the truck.
It grumbled to an aching stop eventually, hours later, pulling through to a small town made of ramshackle wooden buildings and corner-stores, edged with a train track, to a large concrete base that seemed half sunk into the sand. The door of the base was blocked by several people and large crates, the other members of this new team having arrived not long before them.
The Soldier glanced at the Engineer as he gave a little huff as he turned the engine off, moving a hand to rub at the back of his neck.
"Ugh. Helluva drive, huh?"
"Ya tellin' me!" Barked from the back of the truck before the Scouts toothy face appeared between them. "It's gonna take for-fuckin'-ever ta get back home when we get a break! Jeez!" He then abruptly kicked the door open and stretched, not addressing the others that were lingering around the base doors.
The Soldier glanced at them from the corner of his eyes. Most were nearly as tall as he, some fairly broad. They looked strong, a hardy bunch, and he inwardly gave a little sigh of relief. He had always been a man's man, and if he was to work with these men for the next few years, day in and day out, fighting along with them, he would have to make friends.
Engineer glanced over at the other American, noticing his little frown as he watched the others.
"You okay there buddy? We should go stretch our legs, huh?" He gave him a little nudge, making him turn back to him.
"Uh. Yeah. It's been a long day, huh?" The Soldier gave the Engineer a tight smile. Being friendly wasn't his strong suit, but the stockier man seemed warm and genuine, and Soldier watched as he slipped out the door of the truck and leisurely strolled towards the rest of the team. Soldier noticed the gas-mask wearing man from the back quickly hopping out as he saw Engineer go, following behind the Texan.
He frowned a little, but stepped out too, marching briskly behind them and up to his awaiting teammates. It was a little hard to tell who was who without any kind of uniform, but Soldier supposed that was what talking was for.
The tallest man there was carrying crates easily and arranging them before another wearing a long, black coat. A few feet away stood a dark-skinned man wearing a skirt and eye patch; they seemed to have arrived via train, their belongings mingled within the storage crates. The Soldier stood to the side of them - where the trio could see him fully - and saluted.
"I am the Soldier, and I'm gonna be on your team."
Now he could see them properly, Soldier took in the sight of them, trying to ensure he could remember the faces to go with their names. The largest man put down the crate he was holding and stuck out an enormous hand.
"I am the Heavy Weapons Guy." Soldier took it and shook it firmly, eyes fixated on the giant. He was bald, stubbled a little, with bright blue eyes that seemed emotive. He wore fairly light clothing and some of the skin of his cheeks and forehead were tainted pink from the heat. "Will be good to fight on same team, da?" The man had a broad smile as he retracted his hand, and Soldier noted the odd tone of his voice as the Heavy moved to carry on rooting through the endless boxes.
The dark-skinned man turned to him next, grinning at him over the crates.
"I'll be yer Demoman, here." Soldier nodded towards him in acknowledgement - he had been told many times that his expression was unreadable at the best of times, let alone when his eyes could not be seen under his helmet. This didn't seem to deter the other man though. "I'll be the one incharge o' blowin' as much shit as possible up!" His grin was almost startlingly white against his ebony skin, but Soldier found it appealing, reassuring even, and gave a shaky grin back, despite this man also having a strange tone of voice. His hair was curly and not too long, his left eye covered by a patch. Soldier knew better than to ask about that, but the Demoman seemed quite open and relaxed, walking around in that skirt of his. Soldier tried not to look down at the other mans legs in a peculiar discomfort.
The final man had been watching him from the corner of his eyes through small spectacles. When Soldier turned to speak to him, he gave a polite smile, extending his hand as the Heavy did. The man wore strange leather gloves despite the heat, but Soldier shook his hand anyway. Under his coat, the mercenary was wearing a suit.
"I am your Medic. I'll be zhe one taking care of you out here. Your doctor, understand?" His grip was firm, and the Soldier nodded before pulling away a little. The man's eyes were sharp and laced with something betwixt danger and kindness, but his broad stance and smart attire radiated confidence and security. But this man's voice was strange too.
All three men seemed military enough; short hair (if any), broad shoulders, strong arms. But something wasn't right. Something obvious.
Soldier glowered a little, teeth begging to be bared. "You're not American."
The Heavy looked up from the crate he was digging through, gaping a little. "Escoose me?"
Soldier could feel his hackles raising, a finger about to point in accusation at the trio. "You three, you're not American!"
"Vell of course, you imbeci-" The Medic started, before a hand clapped on Soldiers shoulder.
"Easy there, Soldier!" Engineer seemed to sprout out of thin air, his hand comforting and calmness seeming to radiate from him. "Of course everyone's American! Don't you be silly! We're all proud Americans here!" Behind his goggles, Engineers eyes flickered to each of the others, and after an unsure moment they nodded and reluctantly smiled.
"As I was going to say," The Medic cleared his throat, eyes darting away to something within the crates. "of course, ve are all American."
Engineer quickly clapped his other hands on the Medics shoulder as he looked at Soldier. "See? Everything's fine, don't you worry. We're all one big team here, y'hear?"
The Soldiers frown remained, but he relaxed a little, nodding. "As long as you say so, Engineer." He didn't look at the shorter man. Something about his calmness, his confidence, was intimidating.
"Aw, call me Engie." The Texan turned to the others. "That goes for all of y'all, I'm Engie. I'll be the one making the mechanical stuff, okay?"
Soldier looked away, eyes scanning the rest of the area. The man with the gasmask was carrying the cases out of the Engineers truck, as the Scout idly watched and chatted at him. There was another man stood smoking a little way aways, wearing a suit similar to the Medics, but he seemed very slim, and something covered his head. Soldier squinted in his direction, but the man was facing away and the sun was quickly setting, making it too difficult to see any defining features.
Engineers warm hand was still on his shoulder, and after a moment Soldier felt a tug from it and he turned to face the shorter mercenary.
"C'mon, let's get our stuff inside and get cosy with the place. Whatcha think there, Solly?" Engie smiled up at him, leading him towards their pile of cases that they gasmask-wearing man had placed towards the door. Soldier wasn't sure about the new nickname, but nodded, trying to smile back.
"Sure, Engie."
Things went smoothly from there on out - after unpacking their meagre possessions into their respective rooms and work-spaces, the team gathered around the table that night and everyone was formally introduced over a dinner than Engineer hastily put together. A latecomer arrived to join them; a gangly man that looked like he had never eaten a decent meal in his life, but said he was a Sniper of some kind. He didn't say much more besides that. Engineer was sat to Soldiers side, and patted the other seat next to him and willed the man to sit and eat, but the newcomer declined - Sniper wanted to get used to the place before feeling comfortable. The man that was smoking earlier appeared half-way through the meal, and Soldier realized his face was covered in a mask that the Medic called a 'balaclava'. The masked man said his name for the job was the Spy, and Soldier frowned a little. Was a Spy needed? Spies were dangerous and tricky and not to be trusted. Soldier leant into the Texan slightly, lowering his voice.
"Is the Spy also a 'kinda' American like the others?"
Engineers eyes widened slightly behind his goggles, and opened his mouth to answer before he was interrupted.
"I think you would find-" the Frenchman started, taking the seat next to Engineer and glancing around him to face Soldier. "-that all of us have the correct papers. All of us here are American citizens, vhile we work here for RED. I assume you have all your papers too, non?"
Engineer could visibly see Soldier bristle out of the corner of his eye.
"I am an American."
"And so are zhe rest of us, monsieur."
Soldier clenched his jaw a little. He supposed the Spy was right. But that didn't like that fact.
He supposed that, as time went on, he saw a little more eye-to-eye with his other teammates. The Engineer, however, was always the easiest to get along with.
The Engineer and Medic chatted over the food about the Respawn system, how it works, deftly explaining it to the others. Soldier just kept eating - he didn't need to know exactly how it worked, just that it did work. They explained that anything Mann Co. branded and any human tissue would be reformed after-death, and that their records would ensure they came out the system just as they came in, only more alive.
Two days later, after settling themselves in, they tested it out in their first battle.
Each of the team members roughly knew their place - support, defence, attacking. No one really expected the first battle to go smoothly, and while they became accustomed to the terrain everyone figured mistakes would happen and formations would form with experience.
Everything happened at once, the teammates stumbling over themselves a little. The Scout had rushed ahead in front of everyone, which rather quickly became his strategy every fight. Upon seeing the Spy vanish into the air, the Pyro became somewhat trigger-happy and flicked a few sparks towards any who approached, no matter the team colours. Their enemies came quickly - men of similar stature and uniforms, but not quite the same. It didn't matter- Soldier was here to do his job and his job was to kill anyone not on his side and to follow orders. The Medic followed the Pyro around, then shifted to the Engineer for a moment as he followed him up a short climb, then ran towards Soldier. Being healed was a sensation unlike any other - a rush of warm and endorphins and fire all trying to push into his veins at once. The first rockets the Soldier fired felt as if they were an extension of himself, blaring into battle. Then the light was gone, and the Medic rushed towards their Heavy as he shouted for him behind cover. Heavy shouted over to Soldier, too.
"Help attack! Follow the little path up to enemies! I follow you!" A thick arm pointed a path around some rocks, the sounds of men dying behind it clear. Soldier nodded and rushed into the sound, eager to fight the good fight.
Thats when Soldier saw something he could never forget.
Engineer was perched atop a rocky outcrop, his sentry blasting towards the enemy lines - a flourish of bullets was swiftly turning the BLU Scout into a bloody rendition of Swiss cheese; and Engineer was smiling. It wasn't his usually, friendly, neighbourly smile. His teeth were bared and his goggles lit up with each flash from the muzzle of his sentry, nose wrinkled slightly in a soft interpretation of a snarl, his lips pulled back as a harsh laugh barked from him.
And it was beautiful.
At first, the Soldier wasn't sure he could see the resemblance; Soldier had seen trained men come and go, but none were like Engie, none looked like friendly, unsuspecting, tame little men like Engie. The Engineer did not look like a killer or warrior or man built to destroy. He had creators hands and a builders physique, and a soft voice like a family man. Engie looked nothing like a murderer. But now there he was, eyes glowing with delight as a device he had built from scratch rendered his enemies into a bloodied pile of muscle and pulp. And it was pure. Pure energy, pure happiness, pure excitement.
Soldiers heart jolted inside his chest, and it felt like the medigun had exploded on him.
But the Medic had rushed infront of him behind the Heavy, and Soldier had frozen, staring up at the Texan as he gunned down a line of BLU men with that grin plastered to his face.
Then his heart skipped again.
A faint blue dot skimmed across the Engineers helmet, before slowly settling, the BLU Sniper lying in wait, ready.
Soldier lurched forward, unthinking, adrenaline burning his body as he surged up the rock and dust.
"Engie-!"
His arm made contact with his sleeve. There was stumbling. The shorter man breaking out of that smile and turning to him in confusion. Falling. That deadly blue dot sharply dancing. Shouting.
A shot rang out.
Soldier had never died before. At first everything was red-hot, then things went cold. Comfortable. He never felt himself hit the floor, and couldn't remember closing his eyes. But he remembered the look on Engies face. That sharp, enigmatically gorgeous smile melting into pure concern as he ran towards him. The look changing into shock and fear as he reached for him. Engineer had reached for him. Just for him. Soldiers chest burned and it felt like each and every nerve was being pulled out of his skin. His muscles felt like they could have melted straight from his bones and every cell in his body was being electrocuted. He jolted awake with a sharp, shrill yell and he fell to his knees in the Respawn Room. The room swam around him teasingly, his entire body tingling with the new sensation of being brought back to life.
He remained there for a moment before he realized someone was there with him.
The Spy stood in the corner, leaning heavily against the wall - the hand that wasn't shaking violently was holding a cigarette with practised profession.
Soldier glanced up at him from under his helmet.
"...Its...unpleasant, non?" The Frenchman gave a shaky laugh before bringing the cigarette to his lips.
"...What got you?" Soldier slowly and shakily raised himself, knees shuddering at the effort.
"Their Pyro. Snuck up on me from zhe side." The Frenchman looked away. For a split second, his face darkened and he flicked away the butt of the cigarette. "It will not happen again."
He stalked out of the room, hands sliding into his pockets cooly before he turned the corner and promptly vanished.
Soldier briefly wondered how long he had been there. He skimmed his hand along the wall a little as he took a few slow, shuffling steps. His body ached, and he felt tired somehow, but he was alive.
A thought stormed into his head.
Engineer hasn't respawned. He must be alive.
Despite his shaking legs, it didn't take long for Soldier to rush back to that spot; there was a scuffle of footprints, and a rather large splatter of blood. He assumed it was from his own death, and made a mental note to rip the enemy Snipers arms off and beat him with the soggy ends next time he laid eyes on him. But there was no sign of Engineer anymore. There were no scraps of machinery laying around, and not enough spilled blood for two men.
Footsteps slightly smaller than his own led away from the scene, running towards the sounds of battle.
Soldier followed them, slowly lifting the RED-issued launcher they had given him.
Ahead the team were fighting hard despite his absence; the Heavy was holding strong and pushing back the BLU lines, the Medic over-healing the Pyro fairly close-by. A red dot skimmed the area now and then. Soft blurs of light shimmered now and then, and Soldier wondered if how far Spy had actually gotten in front of him.
A few soft clunks echoed to his left, followed by some short beeps.
Upon a ledge, the Engineer was rapidly tightening a bolt on his sentry, his toolbox open and metal parts scattered in small, precise piles. The ledges above held no sign of the BLU Sniper.
Something inside Soldier gave way - relief, he supposed. Engineer was working hard and completely fine. The sentry gave a whirr and spat some shots towards the front lines. Right. Soldier should get to work too.
The next few minutes, hours perhaps, were blurs - running to the front and leaping into action besides the Medic, launching rockets at the men in BLU uniforms. Somewhere, a woman crowed that a briefcase was stolen. BLUs appeared less and seemed more frantic, scattering like their footsteps in the sand. Alarms went off, and there was more shouting. The rest of the team surged into the BLU base, and Soldier caught a glimpse of the Scout and fluttering papers.
Soldier remembered his weapon seeming to glow with power as the final alarm rang, shouting their victory. The others dispersed, chasing their enemies as they backtracked, and Soldier followed suit, before sparing a glance back.
Engineer straightened up on his ledge, stretching his arms up. His gun, too, glowed a little, but it remained sat in its holster. He rotated his neck a little, wiped his forehead, then patted the top of his hard-working sentry, before kneeling in preparation to dismantle it. Soldier watched for a moment, before the sounds of his team jeering at their fallen adversary became too alluring to ignore.