It's almost amusing how genetically similar they are, the REDs and the BlUs, it's almost like someone took a mold and made everything twice just to make sure they got it right.
You have the Scouts: Young men with thin frames, a boat load of brothers, and a love for a radioactive drink. Same height, same age, same hometown these fowl loud mouth little punks even bring the same weapons out onto the battlefield. Should they happen to run into each other it's like watching two little kids fight over a piece of candy. It's all shouting and flailing limbs that are so long they get tangled in each other and they end up rolling in the dirt clawing at each other as they try to hold on to the intel.
The Snipers: Australian bushmen to the core they both are remarkable sharpshooters, both suffer from the same kidney disease thanks to the jarate technique, living in campers and fighting off parents that don't agree with their jobs. The Snipers are the tallest members of their teams and only one of two you'll rarely ever see on the battlefield, true to their names both snipers prefer to keep away from the action and instead take up a perch somewhere high above the base. You'll hear rather then see them take each other out.
The Pyros: Maskless freaks who speak in filtered mumbles and get their jollies from watching you burn into a smoldering pile of ash. Not a lot is known about these guys, if they even really are guys, though the medical reports show they are suffering from the constant exposure to the asbestos lining of their suits. Choosing to use their own weapons, the Pyro's flamethrowers are homemade and the fire axes they are so eager to chop you up with could be found in any store of a civilian town.
The Soldiers: Crazy bastards
The Engineers: Teaxans through and through, these men have a deep love for their machines. Sometimes it seems that they would rather die then have their beloved inventions busted up and broken down by the enemy team. One could only think that their off hours were spent sitting at a workbench in their bunk, making tune ups and improvements with every tool they can get a hold of. They're practical people, and probably one of the most level headed people on the team.
The Demomen: It takes a lot to find two black Scotsmen with missing right eyes, but it happens. What has surprised me is that they both have an alcohol addiction, making something called scrumpy from stills they have set up in their bunks, homemade brews that would knock a normal person on their ass after the first swig. Despite being total drunks they are still the best at their jobs and if they don't blow themselves up on accident, then they'll most certainly blow you up.
The Spies: Frenchmen, their accents being the most annoying things about them, these men rely on stealth and disguises to get them by. Their pinstripe suits make them stand out in the desert, and all that smoking makes me believe they will both die of cancer before the war is over. Their training teaches them to reveal nothing, to blend in to the surroundings like a fly on the wall, but nothing can compare to when they have been found out or if they should happen to fight each other. The fight with their knives is like a dance, tearing and ripping at each others clothes until finally someone makes a fatal stab. The fight with the pistols is like an old western standoff, standing there guns raised, waiting for their opponent to make a move so they can pull the trigger. Should a spy happen to capture the intel and bring it back, you can expect a rant smug spy on your hand for weeks afterward.
The Heavies: Big russian men, the Heavies love their weapon more then anything else, oddly enough they both call their mini guns Sasha. A force to be reckon with the Heavies can plow through anything in it's way, and mow down anything unlucky enough to be caught in Sasha's fire. With love for their sandwiches, outside of the fighting and battle rage the Heavies are surprisingly gentle and happy beings. Their grasp on the english language is not that great, but it's enough to get to the point of whatever the Heavy wants. Most tend to think that they suffer from being overweight, but they are quick to tell you that if they can carry the weight then they are not suffering they are just larger then the little men they walk over.
And lastly we have the Medics: Germans, questionable sanity, and seemingly the best of the best the Medics run around the base with the heavy med gun apparatus on his back. Medic is there for quick fixes, sawing off enemies limbs with bone saws, and watching life drain from anyone unlucky enough to try and attack. The third foreigner to join the team, he seems to be adjusting to the english language, slipping in and out of german and sometimes losing his accent completely. He is the only one of the team that also seems to have a perfectly clean bill of health.
As I sit here in my chair, watching these copies.. these.. twins.. this creepy Noah's Ark shit going on, I can't help but laugh. They are like ants and I am their queen.
Yet I can't help but wonder idly, the thought rising in the back of my mind as I watch them fight day after day, with no chance to leave the base or bed with a female of any kind...
just what would it be like if they were all gay?.