Hey, everybody, it's been a really long time since I've written a Fanfic, and recently I've become more-than-obsessed with Team Fortress 2, and especially the HaleMod. Anyways, I hope you guys will enjoy this, and just to make things clear, I am not Valve, therefore I do not own these characters. If I get at least one review I will immediately post the second (and final) chapter. :)
It was barely morning, and the sun had just started making its way across the azure sky. He had risen from his sleeping bag that morning knowing that this could very well be the last time he yawned, the last time he stretched, and the last time he'd be taking a morning leak. The gray color of his eye seemed much darker and more solemn today than it would usually, especially when he looked around and his gaze met the closed eyelids of his still-sleeping team. Tying his shoes and tucking his gray pants into his brand-new baseball socks, he couldn't help being emotional about what was bound to happen today.
Before his eyes were all the moments he'd spent with his RED team – especially that one game on Dustbowl where they'd all gotten medals for defending the dust-filled canyon without giving up a single point.
As if he were there again, he could just about hear Engineer yell out, "Job well done!" and Heavy splitting his beloved sandvich into nine pieces with his gigantic fingers. "We make good team!" the Russian had exclaimed, and everybody had agreed, even the seldom-visible Spy. Then they drunk and drunk, Demoman handing out bottles of Scotch to each and every one of the team members.
Scout chuckled to himself as he remembered the vague memories of the night of celebrations – Medic riding around on Soldier's back, pretending he was a Deutsches pferd; Heavy being jealous and in search of his Sasha, ripping the powerful sentry gun out of the very ground thinking it was his machine gun; and Sniper losing a bet and having to drink an explosive Jarate-'n'-Bonk cocktail. They were an excellent team, and they had fought hand in hand in many different environments with only one of the members ever being replaced – the Spy.
Their first Spy was actually one of Scout's closer friends, and Scout would always rush to the Spy with an ammo crate to keep him keep disguised in times of trouble. But the Frenchman had a fatal accident – while invisible, he had been set on fire and then blown away by an enemy Pyro's airblast, falling off the Orange X3 tower to his doom. And so the replacement Spy had arrived – a very quiet and mysterious man, but a teammate nonetheless.
Scout left the common room and leaned against the wooden doorway, looking out over the game area. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and he immediately waved his fists angrily at thin air, accepting a battle stance.
The new Spy de-cloaked and said quietly, "You should wake up 'ze rest of 'ze team. 'Ze game shall be beginning shortly." His masked face looked into the Scout's solemn, gray eyes and nodded with understanding. "Blood shall be spilled today, and 'ze enemy shall be the toughest man any of us have ever faced," he faltered slightly, but quickly regained his poker face, "fancy a cigar, Scout?"
"Nah thanks, I don't smoke," said the Scout, and had one last look at the walled-in arena before returning into the common room to wake up the others.
Minutes later, the entire team was up and preparing itself. They were all – with the exception of the Spy – sitting on the cold concrete, eating a small breakfast to give them the strength to fight. The Administrator issued the same, packed meal to be prepared for each one of them, but of course Heavy needed something more filling, and moaned with delight as he ate his favorite sandvich. "Balooooney!" he yelled out and Medic again complained about his high cholesterol intake. Demoman offered some of his Scrumpy to water down the protein-rich bacon-and-egg salad. Soldier was attempting to persuade Scout and Sniper to play a quick game of cards with him, but the two declined, and the Soldier grumpily stacked his deck of cards and pack of cigarettes onto the headband strapped to his faithful helmet.
Scout was wrapping his palms with bandage to prevent blistering from his guns and his Sandman. He then blurted out, because he couldn't hold it in him and said, "Hey, guys, yo. There's somethin' weird about the new Spy. He ain't like one of us. He ain't like the other Spy. I wish the old guy was still with us."
Engineer replied, "Well, he's definitely diff'rent, 'cause if he was the same, he wouldn't be new. Jus' a little philosophical thing to get you thinkin', Boston boy."
"Well, mates, I might just about agree with the thin lil' wanker. The new Spy sure is a
quiet 'n' weird bloke," Sniper said while poking his glasses back into place as they slid down his bony nose.
The others didn't say anything, because of how tense the atmosphere was, and how secretly scared all of them were about the upcoming game. Pyro mumbled something, and filled up his flamethrower with gas to the very brim of capacity. All the others had their weapons at the ready, and Engineer checked his toolbox to make sure he had everything he needed to build their defenses.
The Announcer's voice blared through the speaker in the corner of the room. "Mission begins in sixty seconds." They were all trembling with anticipation, and Medic was already healing them, one by one. "Where is der Spion?" asked Medic in his heavy accent. Nobody knew, not even Scout who'd seen him last. But he had to be somewhere around here, he thought.
Finally, the countdown reached tenths, and the female voice started counting, "10, 9, 8, 7, 6…" and out of the corner of his eye, Scout noticed the Spy de-cloak – he'd been sitting in the common room all along, and he'd heard what Scout said about him. The baseballer swallowed nervously and gripped onto his Force-a-Nature like it was his own, dear life. Finally, the gate that had been separating them from the rest of the arena opened, and they all scrambled out. They had planned this the night before, drawing out the tactics with a piece of charcoal on the concrete floor. For now, they would all huddle together and form a defensive structure on the little wooden platform – all of them except Scout and the Spy, of course. The Spy followed the group onto the roof of the wooden building, grabbed some cloak ammunition from the nearby dispenser, and then sped off somewhere, fully invisible. Scout, on the other hand, dashed straight for the enemy base, readying his pistol to shoot at the fearsome man who was about to emerge. He could hear the beep of Engineer's sentry gun as he tweaked some wires inside and struck the whole structure with his wrench.
Finally, the doors hissed open and out he came, in his hat, with ornamental crocodile teeth on it. He pounded his chest, and all of its Australian-shaped hair. Scout opened fire, his pistol rapidly sending off bullets which fell right into the enemy's body. He brushed himself off, as if the bullets were some child's rubber pellets. He laughed, making the ground shake, and yelled – "You hippies better start sayin' yer prayers, 'cause I'm comin' for ya'. And my name – IS – SAXTON HAAAAAAAAAALE!"