A/N: Hey guys, I'm back with the fic! I'm glad people are reading it! I was afraid TF2 was a dead fandom, but I can see you guys are still alive and kicking!

iceking2000: You found:The Frying pan-lvl 5 Frying pan

Good start wonder how this story goes.

It would actually be pretty freaking funny if a frying pan was a weapon in TF2. Thank you so much for the kind review!

Guest: You have found : Legindary valve grade collector's edition austrailium frying pan. Good story.

You guys sure are can't get over the frying pan being used as an improbable (but very effective) weapon. Thank you for reviewing!

Guest: Excited for the next chapter! Keep up the good work.

Thanks for the kind words!


~Chapter Two~

Scout tried his best to avoid death in battle as much as he could. Even though there was the insurance of Respawn, it is the exact thing Scout wants to avoid in the first place.

If Scout had to describe the experience of Respawning...at best, one hell of an acid trip. Not quite dead and not quite alive. Being in the process of a Respawn was...freaking suffocating. As if Scout is thrown into a void, the epitome of Null and Nil, however saved by being connected to a single strand of humanity, holding him back from a fate possibly worse than death. Worse thing is, Scout is hyper aware of everything. Aware of the battle raging on in reality as he is stuck in limbo, aware that he is drowning in pure oblivion, aware that the void is trying to drag him into its inevitable embrace.

Yeah, lack of better word, Scout fucking despises Respawning.

Spinning through the Nothing, Scout gasps awake, back to reality. Sunlight aches his eyes, the rough surface of wood digs into his bottom, and a funky spicy smell invades his nostrils. Scout takes another gasp, thankful for air and lungs and his physical body, thankful to not be trapped in the unpleasant limbo of Respawning. Memories are scrambled, Scout struggling to make sense of it. Certainly didn't help that along with Scout's irking confusion, aching body, and stiff arms, a pounding headache is drilling into the back of his skull. Another annoying side effect of Respawn.

Groggily, Scout tries to stand up.

"Ughh!" He groans, his body held down by a ton. Eyes finally adjusting, Scout sees that he is not in the familiar white and sterile Re-supply room. Instead, he is in some sort of dance studio. Mirrors line up the wall, reflecting him and his teammates. Flashing a smile at his reflection, he smirks. Heh, he still has those pearly whites. And then Scout realizes in that moment, he is in very close proximity of the Pyro and Spy. Great, his two most favorite people in the world.

"What the actual -" He tries to jump to his feet, and Scout realizes in another instance he is bound and tied to his two most favorite people in the entire world. "Duct tape?!" He exclaims, straining against his imprisonments. The thick silver tape is wrapped around his torso, imprisoning him with Pyro and Spy. Glancing wildly back and forth, Scout quickly realizes that all of the other mercenaries are bound in duct tape like him. They too, are starting to wake up, returning from the Respawn process just like Scout. Just what I wanted to wake up to. Being freaking tied and bounded by duct tape to all of these jackasses. Fucking-tastic.

Pyro is already wide awake, greeting Scout with a, "Hmph scrff!"

Scout only responds with a shudder, turning away. Sneering at his left, he sees Spy is still stuck in Dreamland. Wanting to annoy him, Scout forcefully nudges him. Spy's head rolls on his shoulders, limp and uncoordinated. His mouth is hanging open in an ungainly and un-Spy like way. Dry blood is stained on Spy's mask and mouth. Scout lets a light hiss escapes his mouth. Christ, did he get ran over by a train or what? Just was Scout was about to loudly complain about the situation, when a woman's voice breaks the silence.

"Ahem."

The mercenaries cease their alarmed murmurs, hearing this foreign voice. Scout twists his head farther to where he heard the woman. There she stands, staring down at all nine of them, eyes wide, mouth agape, and a frying pan clutch in her hands. Thick red rimmed glasses slide down the bridge of her nose, and dark brown eyes flit back and forth. She stares at them, looking as if she wanted to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Ehhh, lady, you mind helping us out here?" Scout flashes his best teasing smile, and throws in a wink. He can hear a muffled groan from Pyro beside him. Scout ignores the judgmental glares of his other teammates. Don't flirt too much now Scouty-boy. Gotta stay steady with Miss Pauling. "Cuz it looks like we're sorta tied up in this situation, know what I'm sayin'?"

The woman snaps out of her stupor, and hearing Scout speak, she shoots a glare. "Don't make me smack you with this frying pan like your friend over there." She points the pan at the direction of Scout, Pyro, and Spy.

"Eh?!" Scout scrunches up his face in confusion. Weird, his slick charm should've worked. He looks back and forth between the still unconscious Spy and stranger. The dots connect in his head. "Wait - wait a second. PFFFffft, you managed to knock out that French grouch with a frying pan? That's fucking classic!" Scout hoots, not being able to contain his howling laughter. The other team members, hearing Scout's racket, look at his direction. Most of the expressions shift to surprise, seeing that the woman's threat is true. Sniper joins Scout's laughing fit, chuckling quietly.

"Mother of God!" Soldier cries out. He thrashes against the duct taped bonds. "This is just like the Battle of 1899! The Mole People captured our American boys and imprisoned them with duct tape!"

"You weren't even born yet, ye crazy bloke!" Demoman gruffly points out.

"Who are you?!" Interrupts the woman, her voice shaking. The frying pan is close to her, and she is gripping it so tight, her knuckles are white against her tanned skin. As ridiculous her improvised weapon, the woman is holding onto it like it's her protector. "W-where did you come from? Why are you dressed up like the TF2 cast?"

"Whaddya talking about lady?" Scout says, not understanding the woman's panic. Then again, he and the others did crash into her place out of thin air, instead of Respawning at the Resupply room. Funny, he doesn't think the Respawn is supposed to mess up this badly…

The woman closes her eyes, rubbing her forehead. Turning her back from the mercenaries, she starts muttering to herself. Scout strains to hear her. "...C'mon Holly, pull yourself together...think...call police…?"

While the woman, Holly, if Scout heard her name right, the RED team murmur amongst themselves.

"Vhere is Sascha?" Heavy growls.

"He's right, yeh know. Where are ouah weapons?" Sniper murmurs.

"Engineer, vat do you zuppoze vent vrong vith the machine?" Questions the Medic.

"I dunno, but I reckon we have to settle down and not frighten the little lady over there." Engineer suggests to the group, still as cool as a cucumber.

"NONSENSE!" Soldier booms, not bothering to whisper. He probably doesn't even know how to keep his voice 'quiet.' "We are trapped in the walls of the enemy's territory! The real question is if we can survive or DIE?!"

"Aw, can off it Sol, yeh giving me one hell of a headache." Demo says, sentence followed by a burp. "'Scuse me."

While his teammates are arguing, Scout looks around, and sees a pile of their melee weapons shoved in the corner. Their guns are completely missing though.

"Hey! Hey lady! Holly's yah name, is it?" Scout says as loud as possible among the bickering of the other men. The woman, Holly, freezes, shoulders going stiff when she heard Scout address her. "Where didja put our guns?"

Holly turns around, stiff. "You didn't have them when you appeared here."

"Appear? Can ya explain that for us?" Engineer asks, voice steady.

"I-I don't know! You just - appeared - out of nowhere from my computer!" Holly points at a direction. Scout looks at the point where she's pointing, seeing a completely toasted mini-TV - probably the 'computer' Holly's referring to. Whatever the hell that is. "I have no idea who you guys are or how you came here, but you better have one good heck of an explanation when I -" Beep, beep! Beep, beep! Holly freezes in the middle of her rambling sentence. She lifts her arm, a watch strapped to it.

Her eyes bulge when she reads the time. "Shoot! I'm late!" Dropping the frying pan with a careless thud, Holly flies for the door in a blur. Slam! The door shuts, the floorboards of the studio creaking with the sudden force. The mercenaries are quiet for a second, not sure what to make of Holly's rude and unexplained disappearance.

"Crap!" She shouts, back in the studio with another slam of the door. The entire RED team gives a jump. All fear Holly once possessed, is replaced with a wild frenzy, as she runs into the studio, running back and forth. "Keys! Phone!" Like a storm, she rummages through the drawers of her desks, not caring if anything falls to the floor or if she's leaving one hell of a mess. "Uhm, helmet, helmet! Ugh, where did I put it?!" She spins around, feverish.

"I reckon it's over there, yonder on the kitchen counter." Engineer helpfully points out.

Holly spins on her heels, and practically leaps to the counter. A red helmet is next to the sink, like Engineer pointed out. "Oh, thanks!" Shoving the helmet on her head and gathering her things, Holly storms out of the door, with a resounding slam. Scout stares at the door, almost expecting for the flighty woman to return.

Indeed she does, and Holly's head pops through the doorway.

"Okay, I'm late and all, but you guys, uhm, better stay put! Just - don't move! Don't make lots of noise! Uhm!" She blinks rapidly, struggling to find words. "Yeah! Stay there!" Slam! The door shuts, with another deafening thud. Click! Goes the locks on the door, probably Holly locking it.

Heavy's baritone laugh fills the stunned silence of the RED team. "Hehehe. Leetle woman iz very funny. Reminds Heavy of sisteers."

"Funny or not, she tied us up in this damned duct tape!" Sniper points out.

"Do not worry gentlemen."

All heads snap to the direction of Spy's composed voice.

"Wha?!" Scout gives a shout, seeing the place where Spy was once sitting, empty. The duct tape is sliced neatly down the center. Spy is standing up, straight and tall. "Are you just gonna stand there or help us?!" Scout says, getting over his surprise.

Spy sneers, his butterfly knife clutched in hand. "I think I will keep you just where you are."

Scout sticks a middle finger, pointed heavenward.

"Likewise." Spy says dryly, and proceeds to cut away the duct tape.

"At least I'm not the one who's been gobsmacked by a frying pan. A fucking frying pan, Spy. Who knew that was your ultimate weakness?!"

This earns laughter out of the other RED teammates.

Spy sends a glare worthy of stabbing. "Merci. All of you. Kindly fuck yourselves."


Once Spy helped the RED team out of the duct tape, they sit in a circle, poorly matching the meetings they have back at the base. Pyro called dibs on the rolling chair, and is wheeling back and forth in the background, having the time of its life. Scout eyes it enviously, stuck with sitting on the kitchen counter. As usual, the RED team is arguing among themselves.

"...BLU team set a trap."

"Those closet cases! We oughta burn their bridges down, take an eye for an eye, GET US SOME AMERICAN STYLED VENGEANCE!"

"I didn't know they had the balls and brains to do it."

"If you imbeciles 'ave not ran in zhere like a bunch of lunatics, zhis would not be 'appening!"

"Now now, don't blame our careless calculations, Spah." Engineer raises a hand for the others to case their blabbering. More or less, everybody quiets down, aside from Pyro, spinning around in the rolling chair paying no mind to the conference. "Funny thing is folks, I never actually calculated the consequences if the event happened where the entire RED team gets killed at once." Engineer taps his chin, eyes unreadable behind red goggles. "I s'pose the Respawn machine couldn't-a handle so many of us dyin' in one go, it malfunctioned."

"Hey, come to think of it, where the hell did the machine send us to?" Scout speaks up, arms crossed.

"I reckon we're not in Australia anymore." Engineer chuckles, despite the mildly alarming situation.

"Wot makes ya say that?" Sniper asks.

"Naw. I'm just pulling ya leg. I have no idea where we are. I just always wanted to say that." Laughs the Engineer.

Sniper gives him the stink-eye of the century.

"In that case, let's just get the hell outta here!" Scout jumps to his feet, prepared to sprint out of the door.

"Wait just a sec, Scout." Engineer says. "As much as I don't wanna intrude on this lady's home, there must be some reason why the Respawn took us here."

Spy snorts from his corner, where he is standing faraway from everyone else. "You want us to sit 'ere like a bunch of idiots until she comes back?"

"You're just cranky because she beat you up with a cooking utensil!"

"I will wring zat scrawny neck of yours when you are sleeping -!"

"Settle down y'all, if ya kill each other, who knows where the Respawn will take you next?" Engineer shakes his head, tired of Spy and Scout's never-ending verbal spars. "I think we should stay put here 'til she comes back. Who knows where in tarnation the machine took us?"

"Cowardly MAGGOT!" Cries out Soldier, waving his melee weapon, the shovel, in his hands. "The enemy has already taken our guns and our pride! We must charge into battle and take her down by surprise while we still can!" Before anybody could stop Soldier, he rampages out of the door.

"I'm not chasin' after that bastard." Sniper says, tipping his hat down and leaning against the wall. The other RED members murmur, assent, not wanting to take the burden of dragging Soldier back to the studio.

"Whatever. You old chucklenuts just stick around here. I'ma have some fun out there!" And Scout was gone in a blink of an eye.

Spy doesn't even bother to say anything to the team, and strolls out of the door.

This leaves the remaining six in an awkward silence, save for Pyro's joyful muffled screams as it spins around in the rolling chair.

"Heavy needs to eat and recharge." The Heavy announces, and lumbers over to the refrigerator.


Holly pedals, navigating the sharp turns and twisted paths of Little Italy, New York City. Turning a sharp right, she narrowly dodges a mass of people walking across the street. She huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. Another con of our new apartment: too many freaking tourists. Gripping the handles of her bike, Holly speeds through a red light, skillfully dodging pedestrians. She ignores some curses in Chinese and glares from the people, weaving her way through blockades of cars.

God, I hope Allan won't kill me over this. She hates it when I'm late. Holly sucks her cheeks in, strong gusts of wind drying her eyes. The bike rumbles, from the cobblestoned and cracked filled road. But Holly's six year old bike has been through worse travels, so cycling through the chaotic streets of downtown Little Italy means nothing to Holly.

Honk! Honk! Hoooooonk!

"Christ!" Holly swerves in the nick of time, out of harm's way from an impeding SUV van. The rearview mirror barely misses her arm. If she so much as tipped over to her right, she would fall smack on the moving vehicle. "Watch where you're driving, bozo!" She shouts, glaring at the van moving out of sight. Muttering to herself, "I swear, if stress doesn't kill me first, a freaking car might as well do the job!" Huffing, Holly spins the pedals, turning right of the Green House Cafe. Packs of children move along the sidewalk, chattering and laughing with each other. Parents pull along kids, trying to pull them into their cars, talking to them about their day at school, or coaxing them with the promise of ice cream.

Holly screeches her bike to a halt, gripping the brakes. The rubber's harsh contact with the cemented ground made a cringeworthy sound effect. Kicking the metal bar down to support her bike, Holly runs to the familiar red doors of Allan's school. Painted above the doors in golden letters reads: Robinson Charter School. A woman in neon green pops out against the gray colored stairs leading to the doors. A couple of children are sitting on the stairs, waiting for their parents. Holly straightens her glasses, scanning the area for Allan.

She runs towards the neon clad woman, and Holly swears her heart beats faster even though it already is beating like crazy from pedaling all the way from Uptown to Downtown.

"H-hey Mira! Ah - ooo-wee!" Holly takes a huge breath, and squats, gasping for air. She hates how her hair sticks to her sweaty forehead. Fog clouds her vision, and Holly huffs, taking off her glasses. Stupid prespiration and stupid condensation. Holly looks up, to see Mira peering down, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. Sunshine reflects off her bronze saturn shaped earrings.

"Holly? Wow, you look worn out!"

"Just in the day's work of - uhm what's it called? Ah yeah, bicycling. Gotta get the exercise. Uhm." Holly checks the area once again, feeling hotter by the second. From the heat, her panic, Mira, or her pending frustration, Holly will not deal with it for another second. She rips off her helmet, setting it carelessly on the ground. Good, at least she could feel some air on her sweat-soaked head. "Allan. Where's Allan?"

Mira raises her eyebrows. She glances at her clipboard, eyes flitting back and forth between page and Holly.

"Didn't you…" Mira turns the clipboard for Holly to see, pointing at a yellow post it. "You gave Allan permission to walk home, haven't you?" Holly, eyes bulging and teeth clenched, reads the post it. 'Allan can walk home today. - Holly O' Sullivan.'

That little - ! Holly breathes sharply, putting a hand on her forehead.

"Ya know Mira, with Allan's many talents and weird hobbies, did I tell you another hobby she loves? An uncanny ability to forge signatures."

Mira's expression shifts from puzzlement to horror, dawning upon her.

"I am so sorry Holly -"

"I have a feeling where I can find her. Yeah, yeah, it's fine Mira. Just fine."

Holly turns, and jumps down the steps, sprinting to her bike in a blur.

"Wait, Holly!"

"I said it was fine Mira!"

"You're forgetting your brain bucket!" Mira raises the familiar red object, with a well meaning smile.

Holly smacks her head. In a blink of an eye, she rejoins Mira on the steps.

"Thanks, Mira."

"Hey, no prob. It's okay to stress out. Trust me, I understand. Taking care of a kid can be pretty wild." Mira presses something into Holly's other hand. Holly looks down, and smiles sheepishly to see a water bottle. "Don't forget to stay hydrated too. You can be so flaky, sometimes I think you'd forget to take care of yourself!" Mira chides gently, and gives a quick hug. Holly's heart speeds up, being in close proximity with Mira for just a few seconds.

"T-t-thanks. Haha." Christ Holly, that was a weak line. Tensing up, Holly puts the helmet on her head, water bottle in hand. Practically leaping to her bike, Holly puts the bottle in her basket, and glances back at Mira. Flushing, she waves. Mira smiles encouragingly, raising two thumbs.

"Hang in there!" Shouts Mira, as Holly pedals her way out of the school street.


A/N: Whew. I've been really worn down for the past few days, with summer ending and me having to prepare to go back to school. Nevertheless, I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter.