Disclaimer says I don't own TF2, it belongs to Valve. Author's note at the end.

Last Minute Shopping

The 2Fort base was unusually cooler. The temperature had dropped by at least 5 degrees. Wind chill factor added to the cold. But there was no need for a jacket, since it was a hot region. Christmas was done. Both bases needed not to worry over the decoration because nobody even decorated. Just a small makeshift tree made of anything that's not normal to see. For example, the tree itself was pieced together by Engineer, using scrap metal and wire. Instead of baubles, there were empty bottles of Scrumpy, a helmet, a bird feather, a torn balaclava, the occasional brass shells, and a little makeshift star. The tree was on a corner. The dinner before Christmas was a humble barbecue dinner, with liquor, of course. The mercenaries of BLU and RED were trying not to get rusty. There was an abrupt ceasefire at the first week of December, and the Administrator didn't announce anything more than it. As a result, there was a month-long ceasefire. At first, the mercenaries were grateful about it, until the next week, where their respective Soldiers would wake them up in 0400, make them all exercise at 0430, then ends at 0730. When Soldier was pissed, the specific person would have to do 100 push ups. The teams had no choice but to follow. Even though they were angry at their Soldier, they knew that his undying loyalty to their team and desire for victory brings pride and glory to their team. They respected and admired that. However, a Frenchman in particular would complain about the incompatibility of expensive suits to exercise. He would always shower after exercise.

Most of the mercenaries were cooling off. Many were in the living room. A man or a woman fully covered in an asbestos suit and face obscured by a black gas mask attentively listened to a short, stocky man wearing a yellow hardhat. They were respectively known as Pyro and Engineer. Engineer was telling a story about an experience back in Texas. Pyro expressed muffled laughter some moments. While sharing stories, everyone else was on their own way. The Frenchman known as Spy was finished showering and had changed into a new suit and balaclava. He started smoking outside. A large Russian by the name of Heavy lovingly polished his minigun, Sascha. A young, slim, and talkative mercenary called Scout was downing his favorite energy drink. The product's name was Bonk!Atomic Punch, full of sugar and radiation. Not far away from Scout was a tall, broad-shouldered German, their Medic, friendly but scary because of his morbid curiousity (which cost him his medical license). The doctor was amazed at Scout since the radiation should have killed him a few cans before. Demoman, a black Scottish Cyclops, was drinking, as usual. The missing Australian, Sniper, was probably dozing off in his van. It was perfectly normal for him to be antisocial, normal for the team. Soldier was talking to his collection of severed BLU heads. The team of misfits were about to shut their minds off when they were jerked awake by a female voice on the loudspeakers.
"Attention."
Soldier literally jumped, then ran inside.
"Yes, ma'am?!"
"Mission begins in one and a half hours." All of them subconsciously turned to the clock that was hanging on the far wall, except for Spy who looked at his watch. It read 2:00 pm.
"She wants us to fight in 1530." Soldier said.
"We fight at nine o'clock always." Heavy added.
"You will be moving today. Leaving in fifteen minutes." The Administrator announced.

Sniper protested at first, but finally budged. All nine mercenaries were crammed together in one vehicle. Sniper was the driver, Spy sitting on his right. Scout was far back, sitting with Pyro, Engineer, and Heavy. The Russian sat next to the speedster, with the sole purpose of hoping that Scout would shut his motor mouth up. It didn't work, however. Demoman was placed between Soldier and Medic, aware that if the two were to be seated together, chaos will happen sooner or later. The Scottish man was ready to be the drunken mediator. They were ready to go, but the REDs were still yelling inside the van.
"Move, blockhead!" Scout yelled, elbowing Heavy away from him.
Engineer was annoyed. "Everyone, shut up, or Ah'll whack ya! With mah Gunslinger!"
"Hoi! Get yer bloody cancer stick out of moi vehicle!" Sniper barked.
"Non." Spy answered. Sniper snatched it and threw it out the window. He was pissed. "Who puts Jarate in his van?!"
"It's just because Oi'm not allowed to put 'em in the fridge!"
"Who wants urine in zhe fridge?!"
The noise suddenly increased when Soldier, for an unknown reason, started strangling Medic. Demoman was pulling the American away, muttering about nonsense. Medic was fighting back, his troublesome but loyal dove Archimedes pecking at Soldier. The fight probably originated back from 1945. Demoman finally broke them up, murmuring about haggis this time. After two minutes of muffling, screaming, and complaints, Sniper had enough. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, causing the van to jerk forward. The laws of physics with their almost practically useless formulas and equations did the rest. The other eight were forced to go forward, too. Spy almost died by head wound, luckily he had the seatbelt over him. A bottle of Scrumpy rolled to its final position in the front. Demoman almost plummeted to the windshield. Medic and Soldier slammed onto the front row seats. Pyro and Engineer had no problem, but Heavy and Scout had one. The larger person squashed the smaller one. Scout shouted at him before he breathed freely.
"Can't believe it only took that to shut all of ya wankers up." Sniper grumbled, and looked up. The RED team erupted into a noisy mess again when they found the BLUs already on the road.
"SNIPER, GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE AND START RUNNIN'!" Scout shouted. Sniper slammed at the pedal again.

Soon, the trip to the other base transformed into a drag race. It seemed that the BLUs got their place as first every now and then, much to Sniper's frustration. Soldier was yelling about America again, booing the other team, quoting Sun Tzu all the way.
"Hey, I got an idea, if all o' ye would listen-" Demoman didn't even finish when Sniper suddenly stepped on the brakes. The camper went into a screeching halt. None of the eighteen mercenaries noticed the police chasing them from about a kilometer or two away.
"What is it?" Spy lit another cigarette, an action that seemed normal like breathing and blinking for him.
"Yeah, wot is it?" Sniper asked, looking over his shoulder and glaring at the Scottish demolitions expert. He glanced at his left to see Spy smoking again, so he grabbed the stick of chemicals and threw it out.
"What ride goes the fastest in case of emergency?" Demoman asked a riddle. The whole team went silent since there were two answers in the riddle. There were five seconds of awkward silence before Demoman piped up again. "What? Ye all dunno?"
"None of us know zee exact answer." Spy replied.
"It's a bloody ambulance, ye bloody pikers."
"What 'bout da police cars?" Scout asked, but his question was ignored.
"Are you sayin' we hijack an ambulance?" Sniper asked.
"Christ, no, you bloody idiot."
"Zhen you're implying zhat-" Spy's eyes widened in realization. Soon enough, every other merc in the van realized, except one. All eyes settled on the German sitting behind Spy. Medic was alarmed and nervous at the sudden attention he got.
"Vhat?" He hissed.
"You." Soldier pointed at him. "Drive."
Medic froze for a minute before he shrugged out of it. "I am a man of science." He grumbled while exchanging seats with Sniper. "Vhy do I have to do zhis."

Still ranting about his medical and scientific profession and his purpose wasn't to win the race, he ignored the officer just outside the door. Poor guy was just knocking on the window when Medic zoomed forward, speeding up quickly. It was probably accelerating faster than the force of gravity on an object in free fall, air resistance out of the equation. Spy pressed his back against the door, hands clutching the handle tightly for dear life. Demoman was half-regretting he had the idea of Medic driving. Scout was shrieking with Pyro and Heavy, Engineer silently calculating the car's speed and time. Soldier was cheering.
"GO, KRAUT!"
"I AM ZHE ÜBERMENSCH!" The crazy German cried, swerving left and right. Cars beeped. He even beat a red light. Soldier was shrieking in joy.
"DOKTOR! SLOW CAR DOWN!" Heavy pleaded, almost crushing Scout in the process.
"NEIN!"

"IF SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS TO MOI VAN, OI'LL KILL YA!" Sniper shouted.
"YES!"
Medic swerved sharply to the left, overtaking the enemy team. He flashed a mad smile at the passengers of the other van, pristine white teeth glinting. Spy's mouth hung open, the hand holding the handle above his head white under the glove. The other hand was clawing for dear life, or maybe even reaching for the fallen cigarette. Demoman put his hands over his mouth to prevent himself from puking all over the van. Sniper, who was behind the Frenchman, was sitting as stiff as a marble statue. Scout, Pyro, and Engineer were poor, unlucky mercenaries. They were all sandwiched between the van's wall and a surprised Heavy. Soldier, in the meantime, was overly amused.
"AMERICA WINS AGAIN!" He shouted from behind the driver.
"GET OFF ME, CHUCKLENUTS!" Scout cursed.
"The base is jus' a hundred meters away!" Engie shouted from the back. "Ah don't even get why we're racin' the other team!"
"Competition, mein friend." Medic replied. He found the entrance, and then he turned there. He destroyed the gates as the RED team was victorious. He didn't even give the BLUs some reaction time when he overtook them.
"Is nice to win." Heavy sighed, a little dizzy. The RED team celebrated for a moment, even after the BLUs accepted defeat. A petite woman in a lavender dress cleared her throat for attention. All of them turned to face Miss Pauling, the assistant of the Administrator.
"Well, hello, Miss Paulin'." Scout of RED waved.
"Gentlemen", she started, ignoring Scout. "The battle today is not like every day."
Soldier gasped.
"It's a contest. A contest that will define your masculinity." She continued, allowing a dramatic pause. "You're all going shopping."
The two Pyros jumped in childish glee. Everyone else gawked stupidly at her.
"It's a team building exercise." She lied. "Buy decorations for your base in lieu of Christmas and New Year. The prettier base wins. I'm a judge."
"A real American never backs away from a challenge!" Soldier stomped into the base both teams just realized was a shopping mall. They took some time because of both Medics and their doves. The REDs assembled in the department store.
"OKAY!" Their still-happy Soldier yelled. "We need a Christmas tree! Scout! Commie! Look for an all-American tree!"
"Yessah". Scout ran off.
"The rest of us, let's look for decorations!"

The seven REDs earned some dirty looks from almost everyone. Parents steered children away, muttering discriminations against the misfits. None of the mercenaries minded, they were never going to be able to properly socialize again. The security eyed the peculiar group. The most normal was a lanky man with a hat, sunglasses, and a vest. Pretty normal, just his smell repelled everyone. A man sporting a jacket and an oversized helmet seemed like he was the leader, but also was a lunatic. The shortest of the bunch seemed to be the sanest out of the team, the guy in the yellow hardhat. There was a glove over his right hand, which the security didn't know was a mechanical one. The third most normal had a suit on, no big deal, if he hadn't worn his balaclava, which scared the children away. There was a black man with an eye patch. Then there was the man with graying hair and a lab coat, but his age was deception itself. He was still jumpy, agile. The weirdest of the team of misfits was the man fully covered in a flame retardant suit. Well, as long as they didn't do any harm, the guards thought as they moved on. Protocol was to apprehend bad guys, not bad-looking ones. And these men were just walking around, only exhibiting their insanity. But most of the salesmen were more than curious about the bunch. Soldier commanded the group to halt.
"Demoman, what are the characteristics of good decorative materials for this season? Engineer?" Soldier asked.
"Ah thought you asked Demoman." Engineer said after a long silence.
"I am asking you!"
Engie sighed. "Mah wife and Ah used to have a tree decorated with golden poinsettia that has glitters on 'em, with Christmas baubles. Then a star on the top, obviously. We also had wreaths, decorated 'round the windows. The colors were mainly green, gold, red, maybe with silver, blue, and every other color of the rainbow-"
"I found some!" Demoman yelled from a store. Everyone converged on that place, elbowing their way to the store. The cashier paled when Soldier started dumping things into the cart.

Meanwhile, Scout and Heavy, the unlucky duo, wandered around the Christmas tree displays in a particular area of the mall. Trees of all sizes were everywhere.
"We take twelve foot tree." Heavy suggested, admiring the giant.
"What? Dat's too big, ya dumbass. We take dat!" Scout pointed to a seven foot tall tree.
"No, too small. Baby tree." The Russian disagreed.
"Well, yo' tree's an oldie."
"May I help you?" A salesman wearing a fluffy red cap interrupted. A Santa hat.
"Well, we're lookin' fer a poifect Christmas tree. Old one collapsed." Scout added a lie, their tree didn't even exist. Only the makeshift tree Engineer pieced up together.

"We have all kinds of Christmas trees!"
The salesman toured them around. They came across a ten-foot tree. Its height was just perfect for their base.
"How much?" Scout asked the salesman.
"Which one do you like?"
"Dat." He gestured towards the tree they agreed on.
"Not for sale." The salesman answered casually.
"WHAT?"
"Not for sale, sir."
"We want tree." Heavy insisted. The salesman was scared, looking around. The two mercenaries were about to beat his ass when his eyes fell on the tree nearest him. There was his salvation, or his death.
"How about the nine and a half foot tree?"
Both mercenaries looked at the tree right beside them.
"Dat'll prolly do." Scout said.
"We buy it." Heavy told the salesman.
In less than ten minutes, the tree was in two separate boxes, fully paid. Heavy carried the boxes.
"We have tah find dat crazy Solly." Scout scoped around, looking for the rest of the team.
"Da." Heavy agreed. Scout approached a saleswoman near a wreath shop.
"Hey, sweet lady." He tried to flex at the same time. "Have ya seen some crazy dudes? Dere's a guy with a really big helmet."
"I don't know."
"D'ya see a guy with a rubber suit all ovah his body, black gas mask dat spells doom for anyone dat stands in his way?"
"Oh yes, I remember him. The guy with a helmet with no soft voice?"

"Dat one."
"Yes, they were just shopping over here, they're probably over the next stores."
"Thanks."

Soldier and Demoman were doing the believable. Yeah, the believable, perfectly expected. Technically, it was only Soldier, the other was just plain drunk. Both men dumped everything they liked in the cart.
"Ah said, things that are nice. Not 'em unadorable!" Engineer frowned, sorting out the cart.
"Not loike that, you wankers, not everything gold and red and green is decoration!" Sniper barked at Soldier. Still, no one found reason to argue with a drunk Demoman.
Minutes later, after rummaging through the cart, Engineer was satisfied. "Wooh weeh. Would ya look at that."
"Excellent!" Medic commented.
"So, primary objective completed." Soldier updated.
"YO!" Scout's voice grabbed everyone's attention. "THANK GOD WE FOUND YOU BLOCKHEADS!"
"What's your problem?!" A parent pushed his child away. Scout just elbowed him away and approached the rest of the team, followed by Heavy.
"We have tree!" Heavy gleefully reported. "But we do not have tree decoration."
"THEN WE FIND ALL AMERICAN DECORATION FOR THE ALL AMERICAN TREE!"
"Yeah, dat." Scout coughed, and whispered to Heavy. "Should we tell 'im it ain't made in America?"
"Nyet, leetle Scout. No purpose in that."

Soldier was interrogating the salesmen.
"Are there all-American Christmas tree decors around?"
"Yes! As a matter of fact, everything is American made!" The salesman replied, his shit already scared out of him. The REDs found products, all of which were made in the US of A. The patriotic lunatic went on a frenzy and tossed one of everything.
"Herr Schpy?" Medic said.
"Oui?"
"Vould you get rid of most of zhem, bitte."
"No problem."
Spy pressed a button in his wristwatch, turning invisible. He took some of the useless crap Soldier tossed in, turning invisible with him. He carefully walked around, found a cart with Christmas decor, too. He carefully tucked the boxes with the decor and slipped away.
"Honey." A man looked at the cart. His eyes were wide open, his brows arched up in surprise.
"Yes, sweetie?" A woman answered.
"We have a lot of Christmas decor?"
"What? There are just two boxes of blue baubles, sweetie."
"No, honey, I count ten of them. Not to mention the clutter."
The woman gasped in horror. The cart was full of decorations. "Oh, sweetie, I swear. I didn't buy all of this stuff."
Spy snickered mischievously from the end of the aisle and returned to the team. He got another dozen boxes and looked for another cart to victimize.

Some decades later, Spy successfully got rid of extraneous decorative materials. Heavy had placed the boxes in the cart.
"Hey, we still don't have da lights." Scout reminded.
"Truckie." Sniper nudged Engie.
"Oh, right. Ah'll go ovah there and see."
"Mmph. Mph mph mmph mphu." Pyro mumbled.
"Mighty nice of y'all to go with me."
The RED team wandered to the lights store. Everything was cheap in here. Engineer inspected everything, until he found a box with promising lighting.
"Sir, you can open that, if you want to see the lights."
Engie opened the box, and looked into the box. The lights were in various colors, but when he set his eyes on the wires, he fumed.
"Substandard wiring!" He gasped. The salesman threw an oh-shit look at his coworker just behind the cashier. "What in tarnation! Everythin' is substandard!"
"Truckie, it's best if we leave. Oi don't loike this store." Sniper said.
"Well, you're right." Engineer left the store with dumbstruck employees. His wails seemed to call the attention of the security.
"How did he know they're substandard in a glimpse?" The manager muttered before security guards arrested him.

The team followed Engie around the mall.
"Maybe Ah'll just make the lights. Ah don't trust this mall anymore." Engineer sighed.
"Well, everything is complete." Soldier announced, before Demoman put his hand over his shoulder.
"Oy! Yer missin' something!" He said.
"What did we miss, you skirt wearing cyclops?"
"It's a kilt, Solly! It's an object of manliness!"
"It is called a skirt!"
"A kilt! In America, they call it a skirt!"
"Did you just-"
"Bloody hell, YOU FORGOT ABOUT THE FIREWORKS, LAD!" Demoman cut in before Soldier could say 'insult America' at the end of his sentence. Pyro, upon hearing the word firework, happily raised his hand, mumbling words behind his lifeless mask.
"He says he'll get the best fireworks in town." Engie gladly translated for his best friend in the team.

The pyromaniac skipped a bit too excitedly towards the fireworks store. The rest of the team knew it was really dangerous for Pyro to be in the said store in the first place. He might set fire on everything. The group was immediately greeted by a mix of curious expressions, surprised, curious, and the rare 'do I even care' faces. Customers and staff alike were sharing the universal feeling of nervousness in the presence of the team. In the pyrotechnecian's mind, he was in a candy store with all kinds of sweets everywhere. His team were cherubs, sharing his happiness in the store. In reality, the team was all afraid of him. In Pyroland, everyone else greeted him with pretty laughs. Lollipops, chocolates of every kind, sugary candies, and more. He tossed a box of mint-flavored lollipops into a rainbow cart, all kinds of jewels lining it. That box was the Pyroland equivalent of a box of 120-round fireworks. The kind that shoots up into the sky and exploded into lovely sparks of color. Except for blue, that is. Brilliant blue was very rare. Next, Pyro found a long stick of chocolate, then he saw the cherub with a cute helmet covering his eyes wanting it. In reality, Soldier did want the stick, it was called "Torch of Liberty". Pyro tossed some torches in the cart. The largest cherub was pushing it, he noticed, as he continued to choose the nice chocolates.
"Well, the firebug knows his fireworks." Scout observed, as the mumbling arsonist laughed.
"He ain't called Poiro fer no reason, mate." Sniper replied, as Pyro got a large fire fountain and put it in the cart. Pyro thought he put the box of Swiss chocolate.
"Now, everyone of ya back away a bit." Scout ensured at least a ten yard diameter of people around Pyro, except for the team. Medic was starting to get ready in case of accident, although he was only going to use his talent on his team.
"Mmph!" Pyro happily pulled a little box of 12- round shooting sparklers, thinking they were cookies. Macaroons on the table, which really were handheld sparklers, were thrown into the cart, too. Soon, the cart was full of fireworks/sweets. The arsonist mumbled, finished.
"Wooh, weeh. Mighty nice of ya to choose these." Engie praised. His choice of fireworks was really excellent.

Everything was paid for, and the RED team walked out, content with their purchase. They even bought the cart, since everyone was too lazy to carry them. Soldier stepped on top of the mountain load, scoping around. Luckily nothing was fragile.
"I don't see those BLU maggots-" He paused, and gasped. "THEY'RE THERE! YOU MAGGOTS BETTER RUN WITH THIS CART TO OUR GETAWAY VAN!"
Everyone started to push the cart to their van in another race. Soldier was still atop the load.
"YOU CALL THAT FAST?!"
"MORE MASS, LESS ACCELERATION!" Engineer complained, pushing harder. They reached the van in thirty or so seconds. They carelessly dumped the load into Sniper's van, and got in. Medic slammed the door too hard, making Archimedes jump.
"We're all here, boyo, let's go." Demoman told Sniper. The Australian assassin drove back to their base.

Pyro and Demoman were put in charge of the fireworks display arrangements. Soldier told them to do the job, which Pyro was more than elated; probably the firebug was the happiest person in the world in that day. Demoman assisted Pyro in placing them in the order Pyro wanted. In the pyromaniac's mind, he expected the sweets to turn into a lot more candy. The boxes would explode, the products would be chocolates of every kind, lollipops, sweet strawberry flavored candies, with a touch of magic. In other words, he would describe the fireworks as a piñata. The candies inside wanted to go out, thus helping each other break the piñata from inside. When broken, they would go out, therefore, sweets rained down. It was what Pyro would tell, a vivid and pretty perspective. Well, the real perspective of fireworks were beautiful already, but it was majestic in his mind. Magnificent, wonderful, lovely, that grand display of chocolate from the heavens. Pyro believed in the magic of things, and he sees what's magical in everything, thus a very happy state of mind. Demoman, half-sober (thankfully), watched the masked mumbling arsonist laugh and whistle along while laying the boxes in their right order. He was laying the wires. Engineer had made a contraption that would detonate the fireworks at the same time, but with a few tweaks. The person who graduated with 11 PhDs applied what he knows into the fireworks.
"So, Truckie, how will those foireworks go?" Sniper had asked, fortunately. The Scottish expert was drunk enough not to ask Engie.
"So, Ah made it perfect that the BLUs won't expect anythin'." Engineer answered with a smile. "Pyro told me how he wants everythin' to go, "So Ah made somethin' that'll do the trick. Ya see that?" He pointed to a bunch of wires. "Demoman, when Pyro's done, find a way to attach the boxes-"
"Where would I put 'em wires? Anywhere on the box?"
"Anywhere." Engineer explained what Pyro was thinking about, and figured everything out. Demoman observed how Pyro laid the boxes down. The RED team's resident pyrotechnecian carefully put them down, not allowing anything to topple them over, hand carrying everything. He placed every single fucking thing with concentration. And Demoman admired the firebug's patience over the matter, until he realized something.
"Bloody hell, I ran out of wire!"

"C'mon, dumbass, where's the ladder?" Scout impatiently tapped his foot in a fast rhythm on the floor.
"You dummkopf, you don't need ze ladder right now!" Medic shouted from the window. The doctor was decorating the windows with green rolls of leaves. Those leaves were also hand-decorated with golden poinsettia flowers. He was standing on the ladder that Scout wanted.
"I need dat ladder now, doc!"
"Zhen I suggest decorating ze lower part of zhat tree!"
"Almost thought you said 'lover', doc."
"Vhy do I have to talk to you." The German climbed down the ladder and pulled it to the next window to be decorated with utmost care. Scout sighed impatiently and picked up the box of decoration. First, he'd put the baubles. Contrary to popular belief, Scout can shut up a bit, and while he does, he's concentrating. He counted the balls.
"Okay, 65 of 'em." He muttered to himself, before looking up at the tree. The offense class estimated how much he'll distribute all over their brand new tree. "Game for dis." The Bostonian climbed up the tree. Yes, he climbed up.

Engineer had finished creating his Christmas/New Year lights. He hurried out of his workshop, carrying the bundles of cords on his arm like a little baby.
"Hoi, Truckie, we have a lot of toime." Sniper said. "It's still 4:30 in the afternoon."
"Four and a half hours left, labourer." Spy puffed out smoke.
"Still have time, maybe more." Heavy reassured the Texan.
"Well, thanks for the confidence boost." Engie said. "We gotta put 'em beauties on the tree and the wreaths the doc did."
"Understood." Spy took some cords and walked towards one of the windows. He extracted some tape from his left breast pocket and started taping the custom-made lights on the wall. He secured them on place. Sniper made great use of his height and just used a stool to reach a window. Heavy had no problem at all. Engineer had bigger plans in mind and went back to his workshop.

Soldier was happier than a spoiled kid receiving expensive gifts in the holidays. Christmas was done, but sure as hell that New Year ain't done yet. After giving a short and misinformed lecture of Sun Tzu's teaching, he went around, surveying about what was happening. It was already seven thirty pm. Medic had long been finished decorating the windows. He set himself busy on the doors. Somebody had told him to hang a lantern on the main doorway.
"Kraut! What do you think you are doing?" Soldier called out to Medic, who was standing on the tall ladder. "KRAUT!"
"Go avay!" Medic yelled, almost losing concentration. He muttered some German under his breath before hanging the star shaped lantern with shining decor on the hook. Medic left for the infirmary immediately. Soldier had left, and he moved on to the lights.
"Engie! How do you work the lights?!" Soldier shouted.
"Why don't ya help me ovah here?"
Soldier spun around and found an unsettling sight. The tree was done being decorated with Christmas baubles, with some more glittery stuff, but the poor boy was hanging on one side.
"Maggot. You're not going to fall a hundred feet." Soldier barked, a bit annoyed.
"I dun need help in fallin', I double jump, remember?" Scout answered back. "Da problem is dat my foot is stuck!"
Soldier facepalmed. "Maggots."

Some time later...
"MMMPHPIC!" Pyro shouted a bit too loudly. There was an explosion beforehand, due to a drunk Demoman letting some firework explode. Not the display ones, the ones the man made himself when out of Scrumpy. The good doctor rushed to the site, just like Sniper, Spy, Engineer, and Heavy did.
"No problem." Medic said in his mother tongue before aiming the medigun at the fallen team member. Demoman stood up, looking unscathed.
"Thanks, doc." Demoman spoke, continuing his job in placing the wires.
"Mmph. Mph mmmph." Pyro made wild arm gestures.
"He says we're all done. Okay, the fireworks are alright." Engineer updated.
"Lights are finish." Heavy reported.
"Zhat leaves zee Christmas tree." Spy said.
"It's an hour before Miss Pauling arroives." Sniper reminded. "Jus' the tree left?"
"Oui. And we have made zee mistake of leaving Scout with zhat duty. Soldier-"
There was a loud thud. An audible moan of pain followed.
"MEEEEEDIIIIIC!" A gruff voice shrieked. The doctor rushed inside.
"Vhat happened now?"
"Zee boy fell." Spy observed.
"It doesn't need a call for me..."
"Aww, c'mon, doc, it hurts like hell when you get a twisted ankle and then you fall!" Scout argued.
"Vell zhen." Medic sighed. The medigun did its work. Soldier was now starting to decorate the tree, aiming his rocket launcher at his feet.
Aiming his rocket launcher?
"HERR SOLDIER! NO!"
Too late. The American attempted to reach the top to put the rest of the decoration on top. The star. One gasped in horror and put his hand over his mouth. Thank goodness Engineer had found a way not to let weapons destroy anything in the base. Everyone forgot about it, unfortunately. The moment Soldier fired the rocket, the team was horrified, only for their expressions to change into relief.
"Good thin' Ah designed the fort base system." Engineer thanked. The tree was alright. "Now, do we-"
"One hour left." The Administrator's voice boomed in the loudspeakers, devoid of any emotion. Everybody stared at each other for a minute.
"MPH!" Pyro shattered the silence. He was talking about something that no normally minded person would forget in Christmas, let alone New Year's Eve.
"OH CRAP." Scout cursed. "Da food ain't ready yet!"
"WHO WAS ASSIGNED IN THE FOOD?!" Soldier bellowed, ready to shank in the gut whoever it was. Everybody else gawked at him.
"Uhh..." Scout hesitated. "You didn't assign anybody on da food."
"Now now, before y'all explode and blame everybody else, we can cook food. Anythin' that tastes nice." Engineer said. "Ah'll cook a whole ton of barbecue if ya need it."
"Engineer! Make barbecue." Soldier ordered.
"Ah told ya, I'm makin' them." Engineer and Pyro left. The remainder stood by.
"Commie, get some vodka. Spy, bake your French food. Medic, cook anything that's, uhhh, nutritious. Sniper, Scout, assist the Kraut."
"Wot will you do?" Sniper dared ask the American patriotic.
"I will cook some all-American pork ribs! With sauce!"
"Zhen I suggest we start now." Spy threw the butt of his last cigarette in the ash tray on the ground. He left the team to look for flour, eggs, sugar, and more flour. He wandered in the kitchen, putting on an apron, and removing his gloves. Standard procedure was to wash his hands, and he followed it. He got everything ready, for French bread. The ingredients? Check. The materials? Check. Humming a French song, Spy started to mash the ingredients together.
"Will zhis bake in time?" Spy asked himself. He wasn't sure, he only had forty five minutes left.

"Everythin' is set, doc!" Scout called out.
"Gut." The doctor shouted from the utility room in kitchen sub-two. "Vait for me."
"Now, doc, whacha doin' in there?" Scout leaned on the door.
"None of yer business." Sniper snapped. "He's looking fer an apron."
"Yeah, none of my business." Scout scoffed. "Whaddaya know, he's prolly ja-"
The door flung open, throwing the youngest member of team RED off. The doctor got out.
"Uhh, doc. Yer not yerself today, aren't ya?"
The German baffled the other two inside the kitchen. The Bostonian's mouth hung open, and the Aussie couldn't look away. Medic was wearing an apron with doves on it. It would have been okay, if it weren't for the freaking hearts occasionally appearing.
"Vhat? Ve only have vone socially acceptable apron on base." Medic argued. "Zhis is the only vone I found in ze room."
"Bloody spook." Sniper grumbled. "He must have gotten the apron."
"Vell, ve have no choice but tolerate my appearance. Now, get me ze ingredients, bitte." Medic gestured for the pre-sliced food on the table. "Herr Scout, may you look for the eggnog cookies?"
"Sure, doc, be back in a minute." Scout rushed out of the kitchen.

Spy had turned the oven to cook bread in less than thirty minutes. He smirked when he heard Medic talk about the apron. The Frenchman stole it beforehand, fortunately. The plain white apron was stained with fresh eggs, however. He removed the apron, and at the same time Scout entered kitchen sub-one. He cocked his head to the left, and then a scream of terror rippled around the whole RED base, probably even the BLUs did.
"AAAAAAAAHHH! GHOST GHOST GHOST! HOLY SHIT! FUCK! THERE'S A GHOST ON BASE! HEEEEEEEEELP!"
"CALM DOWN, YOU IDIOT!" Spy shouted.
"AAAAHH IT EVEN HAS THE SPOOK'S VOICE!" Scout ran off, screaming.
Spy looked down, and sighed. He accidentally turned his invisibility cloak on, and yes, it did seem like a ghost. The apron was folding itself. Calmly, Spy turned his cloak off, and resumed working. "I'm surrounded by idiots." He said in French, and then proceeding on putting his gloves back on. Scout fled back to kitchen sub-two, greeted by a very confused Sniper and a passive Medic. He was still shrieking about the "ghost". Pyro kicked the kitchen door open.
"MMPHMMPH! MPH MPPH!"
Engineer rushed immediately. "Yeah Pyro, Scout'd here- what in tarnation are ya wearin'?!"
"A bad apron, I know." Medic huffed, not breaking concentration on cooking. "Herr Engineer, have you seen ze eggnog cookies?"
"Uh, yep. The egg cookies are set on the table."
"Gut." Medic turned off the fire and put what he cooked. Scout was a bit disgusted at the food. Well, Soldier did say something about nutritious food.
"What the heck is dat?"
"Somezhing I learned to cook. Now, you set zhis on ze table." He handed the plates to Scout and Sniper.

The bread was ready. Spy pulled it out. The sweet aroma of freshly cooked bread wafted through the air, and he sniffed it with much appreciation. He brought them on the table on the living room. The one near the tree. Many sticks of barbecue were already there, courtesy of Engineer and Pyro. He encountered Sniper and Scout, Medic's helpers, bring the doctor's food to the table. He looked into it. Very nutritious, oui, he thought.
"Wow, Spook, that's some good bread." Sniper complemented.
"Zhank you." Spy said. "Do you happen to see Soldier on the way here?"
"No."
"MAKE WAY FOR THE AMERICAN RIBS!" Soldier suddenly bellowed, emerging from kitchen sub-three. The American placed the ribs on the table. Balancing on his helmet was the sauce.
"Vodka! And I find wine, tequila, and beer." Heavy arrives from the liquor store.
"Now, everything is set." The Texan entered with more barbecue. The whole RED team assembled in the living room.
"Do ve need anything more? It's... how do I say zhis... spectacular." Medic described the transformed fort.
"The table is well decorated." Engineer said.
"We even have twelve round fruits." Demoman added. "Not to mention that 'em fireworks are good ta go."
"The sentries are decorated, too." Sniper chuckled a bit.
"Ah have a surprise in the sentries." Engie snapped.
"Yeah, Truckie. Oi know."
"LIGHTS? CHECK. DECORATION? CHECK. TREE? CHECK." Soldier yelled.
"I am AMAZED by your throat." Medic said, a bit sarcastic. "Tell me, how did you manage to shout continuously in a day?"
"We seem to have somethin' missing." Engineer muttered. "It's at the back of mah tongue."
"Mmphoomphic?" Pyro guessed.
"Bloody hell, yeah, we need some music!" Demoman translated before Engineer.
"Aw, crikey." Sniper said. "Our music system is-"
"Fixed." Engineer whacked his wrench on the rotting stereo, and it looked good as new. Christmas carols played.
"Now we're ready." Soldier updated.
"Everyone out of your base." The Administrator ordered.

All mercenaries were out of the base. Nine o'clock struck, and a car arrived at the site. Out came Miss Pauling, the Administrator, and Saxton Hale. It seemed like the CEO of Mann Co. was just tagging along.
"Happy New Year!" Saxton said to the mercenaries. "Now, how about we have a tour of your bases now? Let's start with BLU!"
The BLU team snickered at the REDs. Soldier snarled. The BLUs led the three to the base, leaving the REDs standing.
"What are you doing?" Miss Pauling paused. "RED, you're coming, too."
"We're going in the BLU maggot base?!" Soldier gasped. "I WILL NOT ENTER THAT SORRY EXCUSE OF A BASE." The other REDs found themselves agreeing with the American.
"You have to, or I may have to fire all of you." The Administrator threatened.
"Oh, fuck, no. Ma still needs da money." Scout said.
"Then come with us."

The BLU base was neat, organized, and not to mention, really Christmas-y, even though the occasion was the New Year's Eve. There was a Happy New Year poster on the base. Fireworks went off and there was a dazzling display of colorful explosions, which made both Pyros extremely happy. But the REDs were a little nervous, since it seemed like everything was the same. After the display of fireworks, the three were ushered inside. The REDs weren't welcome at all, since everyone in the BLU team was also shocked that they would enter. Well, did they really have something to hide? The offense classes know what it looks like, anyway. Every window had wreaths with golden horses and elves. The lights glowed in various colors, mainly yellow. There were a few multicolored lights, except for red, of course, but enough to balance yellow. Their tree was lovely, ten feet tall, decorated with angels, a sash of blue around the tree. Lights were the main attraction of the tree, especially the star. The star sitting on top of the tree was four pointed, with a bulb glowing inside. The opposite team was jealous of the formal ambience of the BLU base. The table for all of them was an example of good etiquette. Forks and knives were on their respective places around the plates. The glasses were placed on the right.
"Please sit for the food." The BLU Spy acted as waiter. Buffet food was pushed into their living room by their Scout. The ones rarely seen in combat were given good food while the REDs had the mediocre ones. Someone played music over their stereo, and the REDs were running out of options on originality.
"Zhis base looks magnificent." Spy said, actually meaning it, and sarcastic at the same time.
"I'm goin' jittery ovah dis contest. What if we lose?" Scout worried, biting on the barbecue. "A little short on the sauce. Yeah, da BLUs had a nice job ovah here, we weren't really serious in decoratin' our own base."
"Have faith."
Sometime later, the dinner in BLU was over and the three judges evaluated the base. Saxton Hale took pictures of it. The always omniscient Administrator smoked. Miss Pauling adjusted her glasses and wrote opinions on her clipboard.
"Time's up on the BLU base, let's see what the REDs have!" Hale jumped out of the industrial themed fort.

"Demoman." Engineer said.
"Go for it." Demoman cued. Engineer pushed a button. Somewhere in the base, a piston pushed a ball to the edge. The ball fell, pushing a pressure plate downward. The plate activated lighters, which lit the wires Demoman arranged. The fuse shortened, until the spark reached the boxes of fireworks.
"Well, that was long." Engie looked at the timer. Then the sparklers lit up, like stars on earth. The dark RED base then lit up when the ball rolled off the pressure plate and pushed the failsafe power button. A large Happy New Year on the front lit up, to the envy of the BLU team. Then Engineer realized their preparation was too extravagant, but the food was humble. The BLU base was well lit, nicely decorated, plus a nice display of fireworks. They also had GOURMET FOOD, for crying out loud. And it was the RED team's turn to shine bright. He knew that the little rubber ball was sliding down a spiral, and when it reaches the bottom, it will fall to a scissor handle. It will be pushed down, and the pair of scissors would cut a string holding back a knife. The blade would go flying to an Erlenmayer flask containing flammable fluid. The liquid will fall into one of Medic's failed formulas, creating a combustible compound. The product would seep through a specifically permeable membrane, designed only to let that product to go through. Then a little fire would make that liquid explode. The explosion would push a new ball, leading it to a button that would light the main display. And it happened. The moment the second ball touched the button, sentries situated around the base aimed upward and fired the fireworks. The sky was again illuminated by colorful shades.
"So, zhat was your surprise, labourer." Spy said in an awed tone. "Impressive."
"Aw shucks, thanks." The Texan smiled. They all entered the base. The BLUs cringed at the sentries that were following their every move, but since Engie removed their rounds of ammunition, they were unharmed. Soft music played on the stereo.
"Please sit, Monsieur Hale, Mademoiselle Administrator, and Mademoiselle Pauling." Spy ushered, letting them sit. Saxton was happy at the sight of more barbecue. The BLUs were given the best barbecue, to the surprise of most of the REDs. They had to follow Engineer, or get a sermon later on. Soldier was forced to comply, too. The treatment shocked the other team, too. Engineer was satisfied.
"This is good food." Saxton munched on the pork ribs.
"Tasty, in fact." The Administrator admitted.
"Both are bizarre, actually." Miss Pauling stated her honest opinion. From the corner of her eye, she saw both Scouts trying to flirt with her.

Five minutes later, the stereo suddenly stopped working. Scout was the first to notice.
"Yo hardhat." He called Engie to come. "The crappy stereo ain't workin'."
"Oh no. We lost the ambience!" Engineer whispered, horrified.
"Soldier!"
Every RED converged on one place.
"What are we gonna do?" Scout asked among the group. The opposite team noticed the group leaned inside a circle, speaking in hushed whispers. Something went wrong, they figured. The Administrator also noticed this.
"Shit, they must have figured out something is wrong!" Scout said.
"If you shut up, zhat's good." Spy snapped.
"Now, we have our music down. I have a plan." Soldier said. "Engineer, get your guitar. Medic, get your violin and play for them."
"Vhy do I have to sacrifice everything? First, I drove. Second, you made me cook. Now zhis? Vell, I vant to play, but it's not-"
"Jus' do it." Demoman pushed. Medic ran back to his infirmary to retrieve his violin, while Engineer returned to his workshop to get his guitar. The team disassembled, except for Medic and Engineer, who talked about the order of songs. When they finished, the rest hopes for the best.
"Are you sure this'll work?" Demoman asked the lunatic leader. Soldier just cackled.
"Sun Tzu once said 'If fighting is to result in victory, then you must fight!'." Soldier stated.
"And wot is the conmection of that to this?" Sniper interrupted.
"We should continue on." Soldier explained in the standard four word simplest explanation. They turned to watch Medic and Engineer sit on chairs. Medic tucked the wooden instrument on his neck and placed the bow. He looked at Engie who nodded. He drew the bow at the first note. Then the song followed next.
"Holy shit." Scout cried. "Carol of the bells!*"
Medic was playing the soprano part in ease, Engineer plucking the alto notes. Interested, the BLU Team's Medic and Engineer had their respective instruments with them and asked to play.
"Howdy." The BLU Engie stopped the performance. "Can we play too?"
"Sure." RED Engie replied, holding out his hand for a shake. "Pardner."
BLU Engineer shook hands with RED Engineer. The Germans had their own conversation in their mother tongue, and they had an agreement. The performance started. The violins played the higher parts, while the guitars were the lower notes. Miss Pauling sang along quietly.
"Hark, are the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away-"
"Wow, Miss Pauling." Saxton Hale spoke. "You're soprano? Nice voice."
"Thank you. However, they are a week late." The little assistant laughed. They watched the crash performance, all of which were playing perfectly. Every note was exact. The RED Medic played the soprano part excellently, the highest notes at the first studies were perfect. Especially the "merry merry merry merry Christmas" part. The BLU Medic played the tenor nicely, his turn to show off at the "oohh how they pound" part. RED Engineer and his guitar were perfect for alto, the right timbre and thinness. The bass was excellent, providing depth. At the ending part, everyone applauded. The musically oriented mercenaries were proud of themselves as they got off the "stage". Hale, Miss Pauling, and the Administrator seized the stage for an announcement.
"RED and BLU, we have to say that both of you did excellent in this battle." The Admin said.
"Yeah!" Saxton Hale interrupted. "Especially the food in BLU, and the concert in RED!"
"Well, we will announce that there is no winner in this contest."
Both teams moaned in disbelief.
"And, we have sad news to bring." Miss Pauling stepped forward, summoning courage to resume. The other two urged her to go on. "Redmond and Blutarch Mann are dead."
Violent reactions followed.
"They died in late November, and we only received news of it in December 5. We had ceasefire immediately after. All of you were already fired in this course of time, but we didn't tell you yet."
"Zhen why tell us only now?" The BLU Spy asked boldly.
"Because, last week, Mann Co. facilities were attacked by robots." Saxton replied. "Robots by Gray Mann."
"Now who in tarnation is that?" Both Engineers asked at the same time. The Administrator explained who Gray Mann was.
"AND THAT'S WHY EFFECTIVE AT 12 MIDNIGHT, I'M HIRING ALL OF YOU TO GET BACK THOSE FACILITIES!"
Both teams were relieved, that they still had work, and that they were not to be forcefully pushed back to society. Society would never accept them back anymore.
"So, HAPPY NEW YEAR AND UNITE!"
"Hale, this is not how I foresaw this happening, but it seems effective." The chain smoking woman lit another cigarette. She observed how awkward everybody felt like.

There were a few handshakes. The RED Soldier and BLU Demoman rekindled a friendship. Everyone had a little talk with their doppelgangers. The two Pyros perfectly understood each other. Both Engineers talked about Texan life and their degrees. The Soldiers had some time to talk, too, the main topic was Sun Tzu and the beautiful art of war. The Scouts created most noise, of course, talking about baseball, their families, and glorious kills. The Australian Snipers talked about perfect precision shots. The Medics talked in their native language, their love of the Schadenfreude, and life. Mostly, the Demomen were laughing in drunken fits, having found someone else with the same Scrumpy addiction. The Heavies talked in Russian, about their guns. The Spies didn't talk at the first time, until they became a bit friendly, talking about their petit chou fleurs. Gradually the teams blended together into one, regardless of color. Everyone forgot their rivalry, and settled on being friends. At 2350, all of them were singing drunkenly, around a circle. Everyone was off key in singing Little Drummer Boy, but that was what made everything fun.

No one knew how exciting it will be when it was time to fight the robots.

*Carol Of The Bells thing, I couldn't find out what year the song started, but I'm a bit certain this song was already around by around 1980. However, I think the title was "Ring Christmas Bells", yet the same tune…

A/N after the story: Yes, sorry about the tardiness of the story. The file was corrupted, and I typed it all in again in my phone, so there are probably grammar and spelling errors. You're free to pint out mistakes, it will be well appreciated!

Then, I'll have to say, I haven't played TF2, but a lot of thanks to YouTube SFM videos, so I got the personalities of each class. Great fanfictions on this site helped a lot on how to get the accents (mostly the accents, and I'm working on it), more of the personalities, and I admit, I'd need help in my next TF2 story in the making. And all I want to say in this story is to have some fun in 2014, have peace with the most you can, like RED and BLU did at the end. Well, if you disagree, it's alright :) Just have a happy new year! Belated only xD
Peace, people.