"Soldier! Scout! Commando! Wake up! Have you completely forgotten what Miss Pauling told us? We have to move out, now."
The Heavy, a Russian powerhouse almost 7 feet tall and weighing in at well over 300 pounds, called out to the line of tents in which his fellow members of RED Team were stationed. The first to emerge from his quarters was the Scout, short, skinny, and thoroughly Yankee.
"Eh, eh, I'm up, I'm up! What's goin' on, big guy? And did you mention Miss Pauling?"
"Now is not the time, Scout. We have a job to do."
Yeah, yeah, right. Yo, Soldier! Get out here! We gotta job to do!"
Moments later, the trigger-happy American who served as RED Team's heavy artillery stepped out of his tent, his standard-issue Army helmet covering his eyes to the point that it was a wonder he could even see. Truth be told, none of the other mercs could quite figure out how he did.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA RECCOMENDS GETTING SEVEN HOURS OF SLEEP EVERY NIGHT! IF YOU DO NOT, YOU WILL BE STRUCK DEAD THE MOMENT YOU WAKE BY AMERICA!"
The Scout spoke up himself, before the Heavy had a chance to get into an argument with the Soldier. It actually chafed, for the Scout to be forced to mediate trouble instead of causing it, but the Soldier always seemed to rub the Heavy the wrong way, and it only took seconds for them to erupt into a full blown fight.
"Soldier, we aint got time for dat crap! We gotta go! By the way, Commando, wacha doin' in there? Wake up!"
Surprisingly, the final mercenary stationed in their camp still hadn't emerged from his tent. The Scout ran quickly to investigate, brandishing his baseball bat to give the Commando a hearty wakeup call if he was still sleeping. Entering the tent, however, the Scout was surprised to find that the Commando just wasn't there.
"Hey, guys! You lookin' for me? I'm up here!"
The Commando, an average-looking American in military camo and wearing a flashy green beret, was strolling down a nearby mountainside, trusty assault rifle at hand.
"Tell me I'm not late, right?"
The Heavy answered, mildly annoyed.
"No, you are no more late than these two babies here. At least you were doing something productive."
"Yep, I was out scoutin'. Sniper's out there, by the way. He says he's out in position. I'm not quite sure what that means, though. Don't you think it's about time you told us what we were doin' here? Because if we're doing nothing but takin' potshots at Grey, I personally think we're wasting our time."
"Well you are not paying your own paychecks. And no, we are not going for Grey Mann. There is a remote possibility that he will also be at the site we are raiding, but it is nothing but that, a remote possibility. But Pauling gave me orders directly from the Administrator that if we are to see Grey Mann, we are to immediately shift all attention to terminating or capturing him."
The scout laughed out loud.
"We're gonna capture that scumbag? You kiddin? Onna you guys captures Grey, I am making it my personal goal to beat that SOB to death myself."
"I AM HUNGRY. DO ANY OF YOU HAVE FOOD?"
"No, Soldier, we ran out of food several days ago."
Out of nowhere, the Commando professed to having something that could possibly help out the starving members of RED Team.
"I got a couple of squirrels I caught up in the mountains. They should hold us out until the Android shows up with resupply. And have either of you heard from the Spy and the Medic? Sniper says he lost contact with them about two days back."
The Heavy's face changed for a split-second to one of slight worry, upon hearing that the Medic was possibly in danger, before he responded.
"No, we have heard nothing from the Spy or the Medic. The Engineer has also been silent since yesterday, and he isn't one to stay quiet."
The Scout frowned. He knew that they had been out of contact, but he had figured that that was because they hadn't tried to contact anyone.
"So… we're isolated. Dat sucks. Does anybody have contact with anybody?"
"Well, to be fair, I did run into the Sniper up there. But other than that…"
"ACTUALLY, I GOT A PHONE CALL FROM THE PYRO YESTERDAY."
All three of the other mercs stepped back in great surprise as they heard the Soldier's comment.
"Soldier, listen closely. Did you say that the Pyro called you on the phone?"
The Heavy's voice was thick with seriousness.
"YEEEEES. WHAT ABOUT IT?!
"Soldier, if the Pyro called you… how did he sound?"
"JUST LIKE HE ALWAYS DID. HE MUMBLED. LOUDLY. HE SOUNDED KIND OF CRAZY. LIKE ALWAYS."
"SOLDIER! Did he sound upset?"
"YES."
The Heavy held his head in his palm for a few moments.
"Soldier, if the Pyro called you on the phone, and sounded upset, that means that he was in trouble. And since Miss Pauling, the Demoman, the Gunslinger, and the Android were all there, that means that they are in trouble as well."
The Commando's face twisted into a serious and hard look.
"Then our priorities just shifted, didn't they… I'll go get the sniper."
The Scout, in a rare moment of both logic and generosity, spoke up.
"Don't waste your time. I can get there twice as fast. You guys head down the mountain, and I'll get the Sniper and meet you guys at that first campsite where the Soldier caught that fish."
"THAT FISH WAS DELICIOUS! IT'S TOO BAD THAT I USED ALL OF OUR BAIT FATTENING IT UP!"
The Heavy just sighed. They started on their way down the mountain. Little did they know how serious the situation really was.