Nobody on the RED team was quite sure how Meeting Day had started.

At first everyone had though it was a joke, or at least another ridiculous idea of Soldier's that could be laughed at, tossed aside and forgotten along with all of his others, not the least of which was "Burn Maps of Germany Day", which had, quite obviously, not gone down well with certain German team members.

In fact, despite his supposed position as "leader", there was nobody who actually took the Soldier even remotely seriously, with the possible exception of Heavy, who admittedly did not have the slightest clue what was going on at any given time.

Meeting Day had began, at least to Soldier, as an hour long session each week to plan strategies, discuss new weapons and…..well, quite honestly, those were the only things he could think up at the time.

For everyone else, Meeting Day was the perfect day to simply do fuck all.

The boardroom was packed with what may have been the oddest collection of people shoved into the smallest possible space. Nine chairs encircled the oval table, with Soldier taking his place at the head. Peering out from underneath his helmet, which was far too large for him (though he would never admit it), he surveyed the crew in front of him.

To his right side sat the Spy, a sneaky Frenchman with a flair for style and the dramatic. Undeniably suave and unbelievably dangerous, he twirled a butterfly knife in his hands with practiced ease, the blade flashing in his hands.

Beside him sat the Heavy and Medic, an inseparable duo who would have completed each other's sentences had they spoken the same language. Instead, they communicated through the middle ground of broken English, which made them appear almost comical on the battlefield. It was deceiving. He was a bear of a man who could have torn a person in two, while the Good Doctor was just unstable enough to be on the edge of madness. Their partnership hit the battleground with a terrifying fury that led every member of BLU to shake in their boots, if not wet their pants.

At the far right hand corner the Engineer could be seen, fiddling with his hat. A truly brilliant Texan, he was one of the few members that could be almost considered of sound mind, at least as far as mercenaries go. However, there was a heavy suspicion among team members that he loved his machines more than people, and everyone had seen the suspicious hand shaped blueprints hanging in his office. Despite their unease, he was a man with a soft voice and easy manner, and provided an element of stability the team desperately needed.

To the Soldier's left sat another strange group of four. Beginning the lineup was one of the most bizarre men in the room, and considering the company this was saying quite a lot. A lean black man filled the chair, dressed in traditional Scottish garb with an eye patch secured firmly around his left eye. A bottle of whisky was shoved hastily between his knees, a poor attempt at concealment. He occasionally mumbled words to himself that may have been English, though gibberish was closer to the truth. He was hardly a threatening image, or at least wouldn't have been if it weren't for the assortment of explosives hanging from his torso.

A boy of no more than twenty was closest to the Demoman, twitching and impatiently running a hand up and down a steel baseball bat. Even sitting still he seemed fast, an almost imperceptible constant motion vibrating through his whole body. As the team's Scout, his job was speed, and such an occupation was perfectly fine with him.

The Sniper filled the next chair, a self-professed professional who was the Scout's opposite in almost every way imaginable. Quiet and still, he carried himself with an easy nonchalance that could make even the most uptight person relax in his presence. This easygoing manner was often mistaken for gentleness, which was a mistake. As a man who believed that the best way to stay alive was to "have a plan to kill everyone you meet", he was nothing less than one of the most deadly men in Australia. (The most deadly man in Australia, if you happen to be curious, spent his time beating up crocodiles and dressed in small jean shorts.)

The final team member stood out from the others in several ways, the most obvious of which being the fact that she was female. Clad in a fire resistant suit, the Pyrotechnician (or, as she was often referred to behind her back, the 'Pyromaniac) was not your typical young woman. With a spiky red haired bob and clever grey eyes, she gave off an air of cunning that often made people wonder exactly how many steps ahead of them she was. She was a person who could make you laugh and set you at sense of extreme unease at the same time, and just like the rest of RED, she was perfect at killing in her own special way.

BANG!

A shovel hit the table with a massive smash. It was the best way the Soldier could think of to attract attention. Other than shouting, of course.

"SOLLLLLL-DIERS! AT EASE!"

The Spy shot him a withering look. "We were never at attention in the first place, you utter imbecile."

Ah yes. Meeting Day had certainly begun.