I have no clue what I'm doing here, in the middle of Lord knows where. It had been a relatively normal morning at home, where I had naturally woken up around 7 am and grabbed a quick coffee from the kitchen before heading down to my shop across the street, just like any other day of the week. The place was an old bunker, seemingly abandoned to any passerby who was curious enough to stop and take a look. I liked keeping it quiet and unknown, it meant things were under control.
Only today seemed like it was decidedly not like any other day of the week. The workshop was obviously inhabited – the lit windows showed clear signs of life within. When I opened the door behind the building, I noticed the light at my workbench was still on and the radio's soft music filled the air. It was warm inside, something atypical before the sun had a chance to raise the previous night's temperature. I took a swig of coffee as I casually looked around for a few more moments. With my general assessment of the room completed, I had simply chalked it up to being tired last night, therefore lazy with my cleanup. That was my first mistake.
Anyway, I moseyed on in to my wonderful workshop, grabbed my goggles off of the hook on the wall and set my mug down to slip them over my eyes. I wondered about the news as I fiddled with the worn out straps; how the local Mann Co. corporation had recently fallen apart because of the deaths of two owners and the mystery of what was to come of it. Interesting stuff, since nothing else really happens in the deserts of New Mexico. The only other notable stories were of a new Poopy Joe doll being sold, and a sudden recall in bread products due to a possible exposure to viruses in the factory. Supposedly the bread had tumors, which was where I stopped listening to the story.
At any rate, here's where things got stranger. After being satisfied that my eyesight would survive another day of staring at minuscule gadgets and gizmos, I sat down on the old maple bench in front of my latest contraption, only to realize it wasn't where I had left it last night. Curiously enough, there was a small paper taped to the table in its place. I gently tore it from the smooth tabletop and held it close enough to read,
To a Ms. Louise Davies,
Due to recent events, you and your particular skill set has become of interest to a potential employer. A quick sweep of your work is a testament to your worth. You seem to fit the bill as a qualified replacement engineer for Builders League United, a subsidiary of TF Industries. It would be wise to organize your tools and quick wit if you want the job. Regardless if you decide to prepare or not, someone will be at your workplace at 8 am sharp to take you for testing. Good luck, though luck will not be a viable replacement for skill.
The note wasn't signed, which was strange, though at least it explained why the lights and radio were still on. I looked around at the various projects and parts lying around in cluttered organization while I digested the new information. Why would a gravel company become interested in a woman who, quite frankly, had no real job? My feeble income came from fixing the odd piece of equipment for the neighbors and those who knew of me through word of mouth every blue moon. More importantly, why would strangers go through my stuff?
I huffed aloud and set the letter back on the table. It was irritating that someone, dare I think that it was more than one person, went through my things. I felt violated. However, as I looked around, nothing else was really moved or stolen. Quite curious.
When I checked my watch, I was surprised to see that it was only ten 'til my escort allegedly would show. That gave me only a small window to collect what I would need. I wandered around, grabbing basic and obscure tools alike, since I figured that if I gathered my things or not, the Builders League United people would do as the letter foretold and force me to go with them anyway…
…Which is exactly what happened. Currently, I'm sitting on the passenger side of a pickup truck with a pretty young woman driving to what seems like nowhere. She's about fifteen years younger than me, with unruly black hair artfully tied back and cat-eye glasses resting on the tip of her nose. Initially she seemed as overwhelmed as me when she showed up four minutes past the hour, but I guess that time can be made up by ignoring all speed limit signs and basic drivers' etiquette. After a lengthy, borderline uncomfortable silence, the woman finally speaks.
"I know you have plenty of questions, Ms. Davies, most of which I can't answer due to the contract that binds us both, but now's the time to ask." The woman glances at me and then into the rear view mirror. I'm kind of confused about how she knows my name, so I guess that's as good a starting place as any.
"How do you know my name, Ms..?" I trail off, unsure of what to call her. She only takes a second to reply.
"Pauling, you may call me Miss Pauling," the woman states. I notice she puts an emphasis on the 'Miss'. She continues without a pause, "As for you, I cannot tell you how we've come into possession of your information, but I can say that we've had it for a long time." Unsatisfying I suppose, but I guess that's the best answer I have so far. I look out the window to my right and watch the dust billow past. I mull over what else is important enough to be asked. Turning to look forward again, I begin to probe Miss Pauling for more information.
"Well," I begin, unsure of where I want to go, "what kind of…"
The engine's soft rumble fills the space as I trail off awkwardly, but Miss Pauling doesn't try to finish for me. I hesitate for another few seconds before trying to rephrase.
"What exactly is the test I have to take?" Miss Pauling makes a face.
"As it turns out, you won't actually be taking one. Something important has come up and what I saw earlier in your workshop was very impressive." She sends me an admiring glance. "We haven't had an engineer with your skill for quite some time. You should be proud of your work." Her voice is very matter-of-fact, as if she doesn't want any response or continued conversation on the topic. That's good, it leaves me time to think about her words.
Nothing else is said for a majority of the ride, which is fine with me. Only when she makes a sharp left behind a wall of cacti is when she announces something peculiar.
"You're not like the last one I had to bring in, you're quiet. I respect all of our men here, but people are different. We start the same, but always seem to end up in different places." She looks at me full in the face for a second, almost like she's searching for something.
"Are you where you thought you'd end up?" I ask suddenly. She smiles wryly and turns off the ignition.
"Perhaps," she responds shortly as she climbs out of the vehicle. I take that as my cue to get out too, so I gingerly slide down to the dusty desert floor. She waits for me to get closer before walking towards an opening in the cliff face we've parked next to. As I follow a few steps behind Miss Pauling, I take in the bland surroundings, a bit disappointed. Besides the cacti, there are no other plants around, and the only sign of animal life I've seen is a skeleton of a rodent, which we passed by earlier without a second glance. I frown softly as I think of the assorted collection of potted plants I left at home to inevitably die. Of course, I don't know that I won't be home again, but leaving town in the truck with Miss Pauling gave the whole trip a feel of solemn finality.
Said woman had slowed to a halt and I have to catch myself before walking into her back. She doesn't seem to take notice and holds out a dark purple slip of cloth approximately the size of a belt. I realize after a bout of awkwardness (where I didn't know if I should take it from her outstretched hand or not) that the item is a blindfold.
"Can you put this on? Confidentiality reasons." I raise my eyebrow, but comply and wrap the fabric around my head enough to the point that all I see is darkness. I can feel Miss Pauling tugging at the knot I made near my temple and then moving her hand to my left shoulder.
"I should've done this earlier, but after so many new recruits you realize that no one knows where we are on the ride here anyway," the young woman explains while leading me through what I think is the cave. It's colder inside, and her voice echoes around us. It takes a few minutes of walking for me to realize that the floor is exceptionally smooth, probably to avoid tripping any new employees. It makes me wonder what kind of business has its employees walk around blind-folded to get to the workplace, whatever that'll be.
"We're almost there," Miss Pauling says while stopping me. "I'll be right back." Before I can protest, her hand leaves my shoulder and I can hear her footsteps fade back the way we came, and the urge to take off the blindfold is overwhelming. But I don't take it off, and Miss Pauling comes back quickly to take my shoulders again.
"Engineer, you may untie your blindfold," she says loudly. I figure she's talking to me, since I'm wearing a blindfold and our earlier conversations let me know that I would be an engineer of sorts for the company. I fumble with the knot for a moment before slipping the whole thing over my head, eyes wide open. I was ready for a view of the sand dunes or a nice pristine office, not what was in front of me. Of all the places in New Mexico, I'm currently standing in the middle of a card game being played by the weirdest group of office workers I have ever seen in my life.
a/n: Hello TF2 archive readers, it's nice to finally be an author here. This fic was initially meant to be a simple exercise to see where I lie (after 3 years of not actually writing!), but I became inspired by Life of Py-ro by JayDeacats enough to finally get my head out of my ass and write my own story. It feels great! I hope you weren't too bored with the intro chapter; I'll try to update with another within the day. As always, I'd appreciate any feedback, good or bad.
Cheers!
Edit 6/10/16 - fixed really bad spacing errors to allow for a better reading experience. I'm sorry to those who suffered while trying to read
Edit 2 11/8/18 – uh, wow. Rewrote a lot of this, I hope it all makes better sense now!