Upon the next morning Tracks had done what she thought would be inevitable. She was actually leaving that dump of a shed. As usual she had sprinted her way to the park to find that the boy was still asleep. It was twenty until seven in the morning after all. Near the bride there was an abundance of bushes. This was her and the young lads' secret hiding spot. There she would hide food for him to eat if she didn't have the time to wait. Reaching her arms in, the leaves lightly rustled from her weight. The paper bag slipped between the various branches easily, the note taped to it still intact. Hopefully he wouldn't be too upset that she was going to be gone. But, regardless, she knew she should be able to make up for it. Now, since that was done all she had to do was make her way to the station. It wouldn't take her long—the streets were rather busy though. She took in a deep breath before darting away.

Chapter 2

The Running Newcomer

The busy sidewalks weren't hard to maneuver around. She effortlessly around trash and bags, ducking and dodging between couples and under legs. Once she reached the staircase leading down she hadn't slowed—instead she jumps up, placing her bottom along the hand railing and slid down. Papers flew all around her, people yelling and screaming at her carefree form. Eyes narrowed as she jumped and landed rather messily. "GAH!" she yelped, her head ramming into someone's back and knocking him into a trashcan. His body fell in, his legs kicking furiously into the air. Her jaw drops, eyes wide with both embarrassment and shock. "Ah, sorry!" she gives a quick apology before running off into a random direction.

Meanwhile within the station waited two individuals. One was a man who wore black, a suitcase firmly in his boney grip while his free hand tugs against his sharp mustache impatiently. The second was a young woman adorned in purple. She adjusts her reading glasses, gazing at her small watch.

"Time?"

"It's 6:58."

"Hmph, how impractical. This setting is disgusting—the lighting is dull. It's a sign probably. I doubt the recruit will show."

"I believe she'll be on time." The man scoffs, nodding his head subtly at the woman's optimism. This was a job worth quitting. However, this was for professionals, and he was a professional. A loud scraping sound echoed throughout the underground tunnels, causing the man to tug his facial hair rather too hard. Several strands ripped off, and he fumes. Before the two could even question what the cause was, a trashcan rolls in from the corner and slams against the wall. Seconds after, a woman appears. She runs in, face pale with panic. "GET HER!"

"Aaaahhhh," she grunts, jerking her head this way and that for a place to hide.

The man's eyes narrowed at the sight, the young woman in purple only staring at the scene casually.

"You…have got to be joking," he grunts before greasing his hair back. "WHAT was the Administrator thinking?" Casually he waves an arm, ushering for her to come. Tracks gazed at the two questioningly, but she didn't have the time to think. The cops were approaching, and it was either in or out at the point. Tracks charges towards them, grabbing onto their wrists and pulling them into the train that had just stopped. "OOOOKAY WE'RE GOING NOW," she yells and shoves them in. Her small frame hops into the doorway before it shuts.

Lung filled with cold air finally, and a cheesy smile spreads over her face at the two. The lady's glasses had gone sideways, and the man's hair stood in every direction.

"…hi," she held her hand out, laughing nervously. They stared at it. "I'm Tracks."

"…delighted," the man turned, fixing his hair before awkwardly sitting on the nearest chair. For a moment Tracks felt her stomach sink, but the soft hand of the other brought her some ease. "You may call me Ms. Pauling." A light tone in her humble voice made Track's ears perch, and once again she found herself smiling kindly back. "Ms. Pauling—it's a pleasure meeting you." After their greetings Ms. Pauling escorted Tracks to the booth across the fumbling man. "It's good you were able to make it, Ms. Tracks."

"Yeah, sorry if I worried the two of ya."

"No worries. I didn't doubt you for a second," Ms. Pauling reassured her. "Hmph, blasted…piece of equipment!" Furiously he slammed against whatever was within the suitcase. Tracks winced. "Hey, you alright?"

"Of course not. I'm uncomfortable, this scenery needs to be replaced, the FILM is tangling, and now I'm stuck here with you."

Ms. Pauling smiles. "We've just had a rough flight."

The recruit raises a brow before sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. Her bag rested calmly near her side. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, mister…?"

"You may refer to me as The Director," he scoffs, and within moments he pulls out a camera recorder. Aiming it for Tracks, she stares wide eyed at the piece of technology. "And we're recording in 3…2…1. Action!"

"What the hell?"

"…" The man rolls his eyes, pressing his sweaty palm firmly against his face. Damn, this woman was such a fool. "This is an interview, child. For your teammates to view upon your arrival to get an understanding of your past, personality, and attributes. So if you'd please answer what I ask this should end rather well. And please, try to stay on the subject and use smart answers!" he spoke bluntly and professionally, his thin fingers adjusting the several nods slightly. Tracks narrowed her eyes, wondering what they could possibly do.

"Wait…you guys are my team?"

"W-What?! That's absurd!" the Director laughs slightly at her childish question. The recruit glares, crossing her arms. "Yeah, yeah whatever. Just get on with this crap!"

Red markings painted the walls of a different base from yesterday. The men waited outside a meeting room. Within it, Soldier had been having a private conference with the Administrator.

Through a small television of course.

Scout pressed his ear firmly against the door before a fist bops him outside the head. "Ow, what the fuck yo?!" Sniper crosses his arms and leans his back against the wall. "Keep to yourself, mate. That isn't any concern of yours."

"Uh, hey. Think about what you just said—isn't any concern of mine? If you hadn't realized Kangaroo Jack it probably has to do with all of us," the youngest of the group seemed to have jerked his shoulders threateningly. Sniper would usually give in to these taunts, but this time he just shook his head and ignored the kid. Scout wipes at his nose, "This is bull, man! The broad ain't the one getting her ass kicked every day, and for what?! I say she's full of it!" The German doctor adjusted his round glasses; an exasperated sigh escaped his dry lips. "Ve are all responsible, Herr Scout."

Scout grunts, his tongue running along his gritting teeth. "The hell it is! If someone's to blame I'd point my finger at Pyro! Where was he last fight? Oh, I remember now—he camped his rubbery ass in some random building! Then when we're fighting the BLUs he fuckin' lights US up with 'em!"

"HMMRM RPH!"

"Don't you try it!" Scout threatened, pointing a finger defensively at the Pyro. Heavy and Demo simply watched as the scene grew. Engineer had grabbed the Scout's shoulder and dragged him back. "C'mon, kiddo," he continues to restrain him. "Get off, Hardhat! I can knock you down faster than anyone!"

"Calme."

The room fell silent as Spy backed away from the door. He turns to them. "They are finished," his cigarette hung loosely from in between his lips. Suddenly the door swung open, the Solider stiff and face twisted with suppress frustration. He had been in there for some time now. It had to be serious—so serious that he had been excused from yesterday's battle to go have this meeting. A loud gulp was heard, the Solider clearing his throat before allowing his shoulders to drop. The Spy's eyes remained locked to his concealed ones.

"How extreme is our situation?" the French man spoke, his finger tapping against his cigarette to rid of the ash. Soldier huffs from his flared nostrils. "Ladies, we're all down to hell. If you maggots don't improve we're having our ASSES HANDED TO US." A strange way of expressing it, but they understood nonetheless. Demoman pounds his fist against the wall behind him. "Well, wot exactly are suppose te do?! We run our asses around an' kill, like we always did!" "What did Administrator say?" the Russian bear urged for something specific. Sniper had stared at the group before pushing himself off the wall. "Sittin' here isn't going to help us. Let's get bloody goin'," he grunts, shoving his hat downwards. RED team hadn't hesitated, but they weren't the least bit excited either.

"This is your last chance. Do not fail me, or else."

Once again the fight began the RED team had difficulty working with each other. Sniper gazed through his sights, watching the scene before him. As usual Scout had been shooting down the BLUs in the heart of the map. In fact, he had been stealing a few from the Australian gunman. A low sigh escaped his lips as he kept score. Right now they were losing by two, and the number kept growing. Although Scout, Pyro, and Soldier were getting a handful of kills they were dying almost just as much. As usual Heavy and Medic kept them from going through the center path, while Engineer stationed himself in a nearby corner.

"It is the Scout," a voice had almost forced the Sniper to pull a trigger. He rolls his eyes to the side, his gaze hiding beneath his tinted specs. "What may you think that, mate?" he spoke before pulling the trigger, killing the BLU Demoman. Spy played with his kit, putting together a proper disguise. Sniper continues his hunt. "Spoi, keep an' eye on the damn kid will ya?" Spy obliges, a mask of what seems to be the BLU Scout appearing over his face. Meanwhile the Soldier had been giving out a string of profanity and orders, the Heavy and Doctor giving some temporary cover for him and the Pyro. From the corner of his eye he watched as Scout disobeys him, turning the corner and charging into heavy fire. "DAMMIT, YOU COME BACK HERE SON!" he screams after him. The young man refused, dodging an explosion from a nearby sentry. Demoman, as well, calls after the Scout. If it weren't for him blowing the sentry the kid would have been done for. Confidence radiated through the Scout, his grin wide and toothy as he jumps over the various obstacles. This was the day—he'd show them! All it takes to bring them up was the Scout playing real. Aiming his gun towards the BLU Heavy he pulls the trigger.

CLICK.

Scout's eyes widen—he had been out?! The BLU Heavy, eyes narrowed and arms tense, pulls up his heavy minigun. A bullet pierce's his arm, his body landing harshly. "Shit!" he growls, rolling away and behind cover. "MEDIC!" he calls, the Doctor staring at the boy's distressed state. His grip tightens on his most valuable equipment as he tried to think of a reasonable way over to the Scout. But Heavy had shook his head, pushing the man back before firing at BLU's who tried to pull a sneaky act towards the Scout. "No, Doktor! We stay here!" Scout bit his lip, this couldn't be happening. No one was coming. There way—he was doing good! If he died they'd lose! RED needed two, BLU needed one! They were so damn close—no way was he going to make them lose.

"Scout!" he heard a voice call. Quickly pulling out his pistol, he spots the Engineer waving to him. The sentry was keeping any BLUs from getting to him, his form hiding behind barrels from the BLU Sniper. The Dispenser sat, calling for the Scout for fresh ammo and health. The young man growled at the stinging pain in his arm. Should he go for the run? Bullets ran along the ground near him, making him jump. "HNG!" No, it wasn't safe enough. They were so fucked—they were all so damn fucked!

But then a shadow had been casted before him—someone…somebody…had leaped from the roof above them. Both BLU and RED gazed up, and RED Sniper's eyes narrowed as he pressed his face firmly against the scope of his trusty rifle. He raised a brow and aimed his sights at what they all had been looking at. "What…in the bloody hell?"

Scout gawks at the mysterious figure. "Who the fuck…?"