"SANDVICH! I'm coming for you!" screamed the RED Heavy, barging his way through the door into the canteen, nearly falling over a slightly shorter man, who had a bolt action Lee-Enfield rifle pointed at the Russian. The man has wearing a light red, almost pink, short sleeved shirt with a pip on both shoulders, denoting the rank of Second Lieutenant, and he wore a white, orange and green kilt, which Demoman would probably know the name of. The man had two chains of ammunition going over his shoulders and under his pips, and a backpack full of rockets and grenades.
"What is tiny baby man doing here?" asked Heavy.
"This is RED isn't it? I'm a new recruit, ya see." replied the man, with a very strong Irish accent.
"You come to right place. You told by purple lady to see doctor, da?"
"Oh yes."
"Well, come with me! I will show you where doctor is!"
"Thank you very much."
"Doctor! We have new recruit! He was told to see you." shouted Heavy when he and the new man went into the doctor's surgery.
"Yes, very good. Now, Herr Heavy, leave us." replied the German doctor.
Heavy left the room, and Medic turned to the new man.
"Now, I'm going to insert a new heart into you. I believe the Administrator told you vhy."
"Oh yes."
"Ohh, an Irishman. I haven't seen one of those in years. Anyvay, please, onto the operating table. I hope you aren't afraid of scalpels."
The man got onto the table while taking off his shirt and munitions, noted the large number of doves in the surgery, and shivered slightly. Medic turned on his overhead medigun. The man flinched slightly when the scalpel pieced his skin, and saw his heart beating, and his lungs rising and falling regularly for the first time. Medic took out the Irishman's heart, looking at the man's liver with a slight look of disgust, and deposited the heart in a small container, which was quickly marked. The German went over to the fridge, opened the door, and took out a much larger heart.
The Irishman heard a French accent say "Kill me", to which the German Medic replied "Later". The German took an Übercharge valve from the counter, and stuck it into the heart, which turned a rich red colour. The Medic then proceeded to shove the new heart into the new recruit, shooed away Archimedes, and changed the setting on the medigun to repair the Irishman's skin.
The recruit said thanks to the doctor, and put his shirt and munitions back on.
"Herr, please would you tell me vhat your class is." asked Medic.
"I'm the Support – I give ammunition to the rest of the team. On top of that, I''m a fairly good cook." replied the Irishman.
"Vell, that vould explain the ammunition that you carry. Before you go, I just want to make sure of a few things."
"Go ahead."
"Your move speed is 90, and your normal health is 175."
"That's correct."
"Your main veaknesses are from fire, rockets and from grenades and bombs."
"That is also correct."
"Is there anything else about you, like your ammunition dispensing?"
"I can replace up to and including five thousand rounds, and my replenishing range is 15 feet."
"You can go now."
The Support left the room, shivered slightly, and went to the room which had been assigned to him, which the Administrator had so clearly said as being "the fifth room on the left. You room-mate will be the Sniper, who spends the summer and autumn in his camper van, so you will have the room for yourself most of the year.".
The Support put his weapons – a pitchfork, the bolt action Lee-Enfield, and a Welrod with manually-operated rotating bolt – and ammunition on the desk, in the part that was clearly his side of the room, as it was the cleanest, and the other had crumpled sheets, knives hanging from the wall, and several jars full of a yellow liquid the Support instantly recognised as urine.
The Support hung up a clean uniform, and put his weapons, apart from the Welrod, and munition belts and bag inside his wardrobe, and tested the springs on his bed. To the Support, the springs weren't bad at all, considering what his bed had been like before he joined RED. After that, the Support took his Welrod from the desk where he had left it, shoved it into his belt, and went to the canteen, which doubled up as a communal area.
As most of the team where sitting around a table playing cards, and the rest were paying attention to the game (or asleep, in Demoman's case), they didn't notice the Support come up quietly behind them. The Support spoke when the game had finished.
"Would you mind telling me what card game that is?"
Soldier was the first to speak.
"You almost gave me a heart attack son. I thought you were a Spy!"
"I can assure you, Soldier, that this Irishman is one of the RED team. And you were in no real danger of a heart attack, as your heart is fit and strong." said Medic.
"Mais, if this main is not a Spy, then, why the Welrod. It is the Assassin's Pistol, complete with silencer, ce n'est pas?" asked Spy.
"Shoot son, if he's Irish, he could 'inherit', as it were, some weapons from the British, regardless of what type they are." replied Engineer.
"What I want to know is: where on Earth did you get that kilt, laddie, 'cause it sure ain't Scottish!" asked Demoman.
"It's called an Irish National." replied Support.
"Ah, good lad. Let's go have a drink." continued Demoman.
A/N The 'monster' is going to be introduced a bit later on, as the next chapter will be about the Support. Please rate and review!