A/N: So here's something new. First three chapters will talk about each merc.
TF2 is owned by Valve, OCs belong to me.
I have been running all my life.
What I have been running from, I have no idea. I just know I run. Five foster homes, six orphanages, and two prisons. Away from others, friends, family, no matter what I've ran from them.
I never liked being confined in a closed space. I've always preferred the outdoors, free like a bird.
So how did I end up a cold-hearted mercenary?
One, because I kinda need the money, and two, I get a fucking sweet-ass jetpack.
Yes, you heard me right.
A fucking jetpack.
(Third-Person)
It was a cloudless day in the rural farmlands. Some could say it was peaceful. A cow was off to the side grazing on the grass, while children were playing in a nearby lake.
Then all hell broke lose.
A semi-trailer with two blacks cars, one in front of the truck and one in the back, sped down the dirt road at a very fast speed. Anything that was in the way of this convey had to jump to the side to avoid being run over. No one was paying attention to the convoy very much, except for one person.
A person watching from a thousand feet above sea level.
The person was a female wearing a green pilot jumpsuit, and a helmet with a visor and oxygen mask. She had two fingerless gloves on her hands, and had two pistols attached to her belt.
"Walker, you come in?" came a voice from her radio.
"Gotcha Vet, what's up?" she replied.
"Caught up with the convoy yet?"
"Right below me,"
"You know the plan right? Get in, grab it, and get out. Avoid fighting if at all possible, you're on your own for this mission,"
"Vet, you worry too much. I got this," she said as she started decending.
Vet sighed on the other end. "Just be careful alright?" and ended the call.
Walker landed on the trailer, her jetpack still going so she could stay on it. She took a disk-shaped object from a pocket and placed it on the trailer. It attached itself to the truck and started beeping.
She allowed herself to be blown back as the disc blew up, leaving a small hole on the top of the trailer. She flew in the hole and landed inside the trailer. Inside the trailer were a lot of wooden crates, but Walker paid no attention to any of the crates and walked past each until she came upon a small glass container, inside contained a very expensive-looking computer chip.
Walker grinned to herself as she went over and started to pick up the container, but before she could, she heard a gun cock behind her.
"Who are you?" asked a cold voice.
"Someone you probably wouldn't want to mess with," she replied as she turned. But instead of only finding one man with a gun, she found many men in black suits all with guns pointed at her. "Wow, I only expected one of you," she said. "This is awkward,"
"Answer my question," the man said.
"Let me think about that- no," she drew her pistols and shot the man in the head before flying and landing in another part of the trailer. She took cover behind crates as bullets flew by her.
"This would be easy," she said to herself. "Why didn't he tell me there were PEOPLE inside as well?"
Hearing only the clicks of their guns, Walker activated her jetpack and flew towards the men. She hit the other three in the head before slamming into the fourth, taking him to the wall of the trailer. The man slid down the trailer's wall as Walker got up, still in shock from the impact; she quickly put a bullet in his brain so he would do anything else.
"Now lets get outta here," she said as she grabbed the container and flew out of the truck and disappeared into the sky.
War is not a game.
War is NOT a game.
I've told that many times to anyone I worked with on the battlefield. I drilled that into their heads so they will not forget it, ever. War is not the dog and pony show you hear about from the papers. No sir, I can guarantee to you one hundred percent that is not true.
I've seen limbs blown off my fellow soldiers.
I've seen faces burned by firebombs.
I'VE SEEN CADETS SHIT THEIR TROUSERS THE MOMENT THEY SEE SHIT HIT THE FAN.
…
There's a difference between a good soldier and a decent soldier. A good soldier will follow commands given to them by their superiors. A decent soldier will do the right thing no matter what the cost is. Here's one thing for certain:
I am a decent soldier.
(Third-Person)
A man runs down a hallway stained with red lights with a LMG with an attached grenade launcher in his hand. He wears a green vest over an orange shirt, with a bulletchain wrapped around his chest as a sash. He has brown pants tucked into black boots, and has an olive green helmet on his head. He ducks into an open doorway and holds his breaths as multiple armed men raced past the room.
He breathes a sigh of relief and reaches into one of his pockets in his vest and takes out a small lollypop, unwraps it and pops it in his mouth. As his heart rate starts to go down, his radio starts up.
"Vet, you there pal?" the voice that emits is almost song-like.
"Yeah Astra, I'm here, need something?" Vet responds.
"Oh thank god you're still alive," she responds. "You haven't answered your radio ever since Aron sent out the call-out,"
"Oops my bad, I've been…busy,"
"Hey there he is!"
"Oh crap, Astra gotta go," he put away his radio before she could answer back and readied his machine gun. "Let her rip,"
Man after man dropped to the floor as the machine gun echoed across the hallway. When the last man fell, Vet stepped into the hallway, face still stoic, and observed the carnage. He was used to this already.
He placed the LMG on his shoulder and started to walk away. But as he did he launched a grenade behind him. This sent waves of yelling as it blew up.
He smirked. Maybe he was too used to it.
Being almost immortal is not as fun as it seems.
You see your friends slowly wither away, while you stay alive and unchanged for hundreds, no, thousands of years.
I found it hard to make new friends for sometime, because I do not want to see them die out like the flowers at winter.
But when I met the others, I learned to live in the moment and enjoy the little things.
(Third-Person)
It is nighttime over a small town. But, however, this wasn't an ordinary town. Armed masked men wielding powerful weapons roamed the streets of this town. This town was seized by armed militants, and forced many of the townsfolk out. They made it their base of operations, and planned to do…something.
"What do you mean something?" a young woman stood from the outskirts of the town. But she was anything but ordinary. She was orange-skinned and had flames for hair. She wore a yellow colored shirt under a red jacket, and had red shorts. She was also barefoot.
"Eh, the guy didn't really say," said Vet. "But never less, just make sure none of those men are left alive after this ok, and don't go overkill like last time,"
She rolled her brown eyes. "I didn't go overkill Vet, it just so happened that a oil tanker was parked nearby,"
"Yeah, yeah, excuses, excuses, Astra," and the call ended.
Astra sighed as she put away the radio. She spun around, letting a column of fire engulf her. In her place was a bird made of fire.
A phoenix.
The phoenix took flight and headed towards the town. It landed on top of a building; it was then engulfed in flames and turned back into the woman.
She spotted about twenty armed men armed with assault rifles, shotguns, and machine guns.
"Easy pickings," she thought as she jumped down. She landed with a thud, leaving a large crater in the dirt ground. The men turned to the sound, and had their guns guns pointed at the girl on fire.
"Today, I'm feeling generous. So I'll go easy on you guys," she snapped her fingers and an orb of fire appeared above her hand. She grabbed it and threw it at the closest guy. When the orb made contact the man was immediately incinerated.
The others looked in fear as they saw one of their friends turn into ashes.
"Who's next?" she asked as multiple orbs appeared behind her.
A/N: And so concludes the Attackers of the team. Next will be the Defenders.
Till next time,
-D.W
