Thank you thank you thank you SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much for your support! (all three of you ^^; ) you've persuaded me to continue on with this story which I hope will continue on until I can finally pull out an appropriate ending point!
Well, anyway, here's chapter three!
(I don't own anything of or relating to team fortress 2. Any and all terms and/or phrases relating to it belong to Valve)
There were eight of them total. Five of them stood in a line in the center of the intel room awaiting orders, while the three not standing were otherwise occupying themselves in various ways.
One of them stood in a corner with his arms crossed with a look of impatience in his eyes, though Matthew couldn't really see what his eyes were saying under that helmet. He had two hand grenades strapped to his chest, as though the man were ready to fight anything, but Matthew say that only the Engineer was allowed to carry weapons into the intel, so he presumed they were simply duds.
Another was tapping his foot and standing by the hallway, and there was something…sinister around him. Sure, he showed Matthew to his quarters, and led him to the intel room to await further instructions, but there was still something he just couldn't shake off was wrong about the man. Maybe it was the blood stains on his coat and gloves, or maybe it was the glasses with one broken lense. The sharpshooter dismissed it, unsure if he'll ever know.
The last one was none other than Jeffery, who was checking up on what seemed to be a rotating machine that turned left and right, as though searching for something. It was rather obvious that it was searching for enemies by the two minigun barrels and rocket laucher that it was protruding.
The other four standing were also an odd bunch. Matthew leaned over to his left to get a good look at the others. To his direct left was a man who desperately needed a shower, though the Aussie didn't need to look to tell that. He was wearing a black bandanna and an eyepatch, probably from doing something while drunk, thought the sniper.
One more down was a young looking boy, probably not even half Matthew's age. The kid had a cocky look about him and held his metal bat over his shoulder. He's not honestly gonna fight with THAT is he??? Though his answer was quickly answered as the boy pulled out a scattergun and proceeded to inspect it.
The man to his left simply oozed intimidation, being a head and shoulders taller than most average men will do that. His hands were also massive, though he seemed slightly less intimidating as he was loudly munching on a sandwich.
The last man was the most curious of all, since the assassin was not completely sure whether it was a man or not. The person was wearing a flame-retardant suit with rubber gloves and boots, but it's face was completely hidden behind the black mask, which only allowed the onlooker the sight of two beady black holes staring directly at him. The image was rather frightening, not really sure if the face behind that mask was giving you a death stare or an assuring look, and especially since you were only able to look at one facial expression the whole time.
"Gentlemen," Matthew whipped around to find a man in a pinstripe suit and ski mask standing before him while switching cigarettes out of his case. From the way he talked, he was obviously French, and the professional subconsciously brought up mad memories he had with the French. He felt like beating the prick to a bloody pulp, but that wouldn't look good on his resume, so he simply gave the man a pissed-off look.
"HOLY CRAP!!!" the young boy had jumped into the arms of the giant out of fear. After a moment of silence, the kid was dropped to the floor with a dull thud! Then the monster continued eating his sandwich as though nothing happened.
The Frenchmen walked over to the briefcase on the table and as soon as he punched the first digit into the electronic lock he was yelled at by the soldier in the corner. "YOU MAGGOT!!! WHAT THE HELL TOOK YOU SO GODDAMN LONG??? YOU OUTTA BE COURT MARTIALED!!!" he was screaming almost directly into Matthew's ears, and so he ended up covering his ears in pain, but by the end of the yelling Matt's ears still rung.
Frenchmen didn't even look up and continued to enter the code onto the case. "I vas busy sleeping vith your Mother, now be quiet." There seemed to be some authority to the mysterious man as the helmeted fighter grumbled and slunk back into his corner.
The case popped open and the smoker pulled out a folder, which he walked over and handed to the man in the lab coat.
Examination of their records was done by the leader, but medical checks were done by the medicinal officer, in this case, the medic. He strolled over to Matthew's end of the line and begun walking down. Matthew was slightly disappointed when his medical file was barely given a glace, and sent to the bottom of the pile as the doctor moved on.
The drunk was greeted with a severe disapproving look as his file was scanned down at the bottom of the paper, where the list of medical conditions existed. The file was moved down with a look of disgust.
Matthew didn't feel as bad when the young boy was hardly given much of a glance either, though he looked upset that the medic didn't even look at his amazing 100 yard sprint time.
The mountain was given an approving look by the doctor as he scanned the paper while nodding and at the end gave the giant a quick nod.
The medic's examination stopped dead in its tracks as he got to the rubber-man. The medic constantly looked over the thing's medical file but always turned up with a confused frown.
"hzz thrr ha hrrblm?" mumbled the figure with a tilt of its head.
"nein, nein. But…" It was then that Matthew discovered the doctor was German. "All ov your medical recordz are acceptable, though I lack a photo of you. Do you have von on hand?" the doctor eagerly reached out his hand.
The person behind the rubber sighed and reached into his back pocket where he pulled out a folded piece of paper, presumably a photo of himself. The medic unfolded it and did a double-take, taking a few seconds to clean out his glasses. His eyes widened as he finally understood that the photo he was looking at was real.
He looked at the thing.
Then the photo.
Then the thing.
Then the photo.
He quickly put the photo into the folder and put it back into the case without saying a word. The European raised an eyebrow at him but dismissed it as one of the many secrets that plagued the doctor.
"Gentlemen," the smoker began, "As you know, you have all been hired for your specific, 'talents'." He took a long drag and chuckled a little. "You have skills like no ozzer man has, specifically, skills zat separate you from common, peaceful society. For zis reason, we have found you overqualified to fight for us, Reliable Excavation and Demolition. Ozzerwise known as RED." He took another long drag before continuing. "But before we continue, I need to make sure you know a few rules. Un, you are not allowed to contact anyone else outside zis base. Zose people may be used to weed out information about us that could very well threaten our success in zis war! Deux, Never go outside zis base after dark. In case you wish to know why, then we won't be bringing your corpse back to ze base. And trios, never, ever, ever, ever, EVER open zis briefcase!!!" He slammed down on the desk next to it. "It contains information zat is vital to our operation. It contains engineer's blueprints, my disguise kits, your medical records, history files, attack plans, escape routes, EVERYZINK! If you even so much as think, about opening zis case. Zen I am authorized by my superior to eliminate you myself."
The room was dead silent, save for the clicking noise of the frenchie flicking his used cigarette and lighting another one.
His face suddenly turned to a devious grin, as though he knew that he was better than you. "Well, shall we?" He walked past the five men and continued to walk for a brief period of time when he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around with a curious look. "Go on, introduce yourselves, your name, job, skills, habits, whatever. Starting with you on the left."
Matthew stepped forward and tipped his hat. "G'day mates. Nam—" He was abruptly interrupted by the man with the helmet yelling in his face yet again. "BZZZZZZZZZT!!!!!! WRONG! YOUR NAME FROM THIS DAY FORWARD IS SUSAN! YOU WANNA GET YOUR NAME BACK?!?! WELL YOU GOTTA EARN IT! KILL THE BLUS AND TAKE BACK YOUR NAME FROM THOSE SISSY BLU LAD—" His own speech was interrupted was he fell face first into the ground. "Ach, zat man needs therapy." Said the german with annoyance as he threw out the syringe he used to sedate the psycho. "You know he already has, partner." Jeffery spoke up for the first time in a while.
The doc nodded in approval, "but I agree zat I'm not too fond of long introductions. I say you all just tell us your name and job. Then we can move on, ja?" the other two nodded in agreement. The insane one was unavailable for comment.
"Matthew Johannes. Precision elimination."
"Gary O'Connor. Demolitons expert."
"Jack Wilder. Reconnaissance."
"Marko Arkadeyavich. Heavy Weapons Guy."
"Phhrotknhhks"
Everyone turned to stare at the thing who hadn't given anyone his name. "what the hell? What's your name ya frickin' wuss?" the thing ignored the taunting boy. The doc finally stepped in and pushed Jack off. "ah, let's just call him 'Pyro' for now." Jack was rather curious as to why the doc was so protective of the thing's identity, but put that mystery under, 'things to be solved later'.
"I zee zat ve are all introduced, so we shall introduce ourselves. My name is Wolfgang von Hamburg, und I am ze field medic." He nodded to Jeffery.
"Name's Jeffery Smith. I'm the engineer, but you can all call me engie." He continued on with the tune-up of his creation. "No one knows what the name of the one kissing the ground is, so we all call him sarge, since he responds best to that name, and he specializes in ballistics."
Last but not least was the Frenchie, who grew a rather smug look on his face. "I am Jean-Piearre Merril, and I am the espionage operative as well as the team's leader."
"yeah right, a frickin' wuss like you wouldn't last ten seconds with me!" The scout was saying rather obnoxiously.
"Oh? You really think so?" He pulled out his cigarette case yet again, though this time he fiddled around with something on the right side of the case before closing it shut and hiding it away again. A cloud of smoke enveloped Jean for a few seconds. But when the smoke disappeared, the spy was gone while a mirror image of Jack stood before him.
"Yo, what's up meathead?" said the spy in a perfect Boston accent.
"WHAT THE---?" Jack stumbled back, tripping over a cable and sent crashing into the ground. The spy removed his mask while snorting and laughing at the scout. "I can't believe what a fool you--!!"
"ATTENTION!" said a raspy female voice over the intercom. "Mission begins in five minutes! Prepare yourselves!" and the com shut off.
"well," said the spy in a cool tone, "we get to see what you can really do now."