Long overdue update. I've decided to stop typing accents so tediously, and I'm going to try and focus on the language instead to differentiate voices; let me know if it isn't working out. RED employees are named as their position ("Scout", "Sniper", "Medic", etc), while BLU employees are referred to as "the BLU scout" or "the enemy sniper", without capitalized position names.

Disclaimer (are these still a thing?) : I do not own any of the 9 mercs, or the locations and concepts from the game mentioned therein.


Chapter 4

"The Enemy has taken our intelligence!" Eit winced as the Administrator's voice blared loudly in alarm over the speakers, and she crouched lower in her hiding place, even though she knew there was no way a BLU could find his way up here. She peeked over the window sill, watching Demo plant sticky bombs on the bridge between the two forts before hiding underneath the bridge. A BLU soldier and pyro came barging merrily across the bridge, and Eit gave a silent cheer alongside Demo as he triggered the bombs and blew the two to bits.

There was a ripple in the water behind Demo. Eit couldn't help but cry out in warning, "Behind you!"

Demo looked up at the source of the sound, high up in the RED observation tower, and met Eit's eye, but before he had a chance to turn around, the BLU spy materialized behind him and stabbed Demo in the back.

Eit bit her tongue as she saw Demo's gaze go blank. The dead man's body slid off of the knife and splashed into the water, floating limp. The enemy spy wiped Demo's blood nonchalantly off of his blade using his gloved hands, which he then rinsed in the river. He looked up at Eit, who blanched, and he gave her a languid two-fingered salute, smirking at her horrified face before he cloaked and ducked under the bridge into the tunnel.

Eit watched the enemy scout bound into view, crossing the bridge and ignoring the rapidly fading bodies of Demo and the two BLUs blown up earlier. The intelligence left a trail of floating papers in his wake, also disappearing before they hit the ground. Hot on his heels came Scout.

"Hey, knucklehead!" Scout yelled, swinging his bat at the enemy scout as he passed him and clocking him in the side. The BLU scout staggered and whipped out his scattergun, still running across the bridge as he blasted off a few shots at Scout, who jumped and dodged.

Eit's view was obscured for a moment, and then the two scouts came back into view, fighting on the BLU side of the embankment. The BLU scout was backing up towards the door as he reloaded, and he howled as Scout caught him in the shin with a shot from his pistol.

From her vantage point, she saw Pyro on the balcony above, and he dropped down with a "Hudda!" and a blast from his flamethrower. The enemy scout screamed, engulfed in fire, and scrambled for a second towards the water before succumbing to a combination of the flames and of Scout's continued gunshots.

"The Enemy has dropped our intelligence." "We have taken the Enemy intelligence!" Eit jumped again as the loudspeakers blared the two announcements throughout the RED base, almost on top of each other. A small thrill of preemptive triumph hummed in her mind. She saw Scout and Pyro yelling a quick plan through gestures to guard the intel while one of them covered for whoever had just taken the enemy intel.

A gunshot sounded to her right, nearly scaring her out of her skin, and she saw Scout's body drop to the dusty ground. Eit and Pyro saw the laser sight at the same time, but both much too late, and the second gunshot put a bullet right between Pyro's eyes.

"No!" Eit gasped, forgetting herself for a moment and leaning out of the window towards her two dead teammates.

"So that's where they've been keepin' ya." Eit ducked back into the window, having caught a glimpse of the enemy sniper's sunglasses on the balcony below. "I'm not gonna hurt ya," the man taunted. "That would be downright unprofessional. But sooner or later, they're gonna put you on the field against us big boys...and I'm lookin' forward to meetin' ya then."

The Australian man's cackling faded as he sauntered down the hall on the floor beneath her. Eit curled herself in a ball in the corner of the tower, back pressed against the wall and heart pounding.

It was her third day of battlefield observation, and still she jumped at the sound of gunfire. Watching her teammates die had taken some getting used to. She always breathed a sigh of relief when she saw them back out on the field after a few minutes, even though Engie had reassured her time after time that respawn was a flawless system ("I would know, I built it myself!").

There's no way I'm going to be out there in half a week. I'm just going to die. And respawn. And then die again. And again.

Outside, she heard Heavy's ubercharged roaring and Medic's manic laughter as they sprayed bullets across the bridge. And shortly thereafter, a final announcement: "We have secured the enemy intelligence. Victory." Eit smiled, hearing her teammates cheer, and then winced at the screams that ended in a stutter of gunshots, as the remaining BLUs in the base were gunned down.

The airhorn sounded for midday ceasefire. She made her way down to the mess hall, standing in line for sandwiches and vegetable stew with the rest of her teammates. The air smelled of food, dust, and sweat.

She sat down next to the Engineer, tuning into the din of conversation, and dug into her meal tentatively. Her nausea from the Medic's shot had largely subsided in the past few days, but she was taking it easy on her stomach just in case, eating carefully and washing it down with sips of water instead of beer.

"Oy, Eit!" Demo called down the table. "Thanks for the call on the spy today! Pity it dinnae do me a lick of good, but sharp eyes you've got. Double'n mine, anyhoo!" Eit grinned around a mouthful of bread and ham, and gave him a thumbs up.

"Yeah well, we'll see about that," Scout interrupted. "Just wait 'til she gets out on the field with the rest of us. I bet you're not gonna last two minutes," he sneered at her from across the table.

She shrugged, and was surprised when Heavy chimed in. "Am not so sure of that. Little Eit has been training. We will see, da?"

Pyro slapped his gloved hand onto the table and yelled something indistinguishable, and Demo roared in laughter. Eit, not sure what to make of the conversation, went back to silently eating her sandwich.

Engineer cleared his throat as the banter continued around them."Hey, Eit, I figure I should let you know, but there's...I heard some news from back home. There's been some trouble with the missus."

Eit took a sip of water and swallowed. "Is...is everything alright?"

"I'm not sure." Engie stirred his soup and stared at his food. "Damn little gets past those censors they've got on the mail, but the War Room had a message for me last night, tellin' me it was urgent. I've got until the end of this week, and after that, I'm headed back and taggin' you in."

"You mean for good?"

"Don't know how else. RED ain't exactly known for a lenient vacation policy," he remarked with a humorless chuckle. "Besides, you're hired to be an engineer. Can't go havin' two Engies on a team, would be mighty unfair for the BLUs."

"But-...but I don't even know how half of your machines in your workshop work... and what about the research-"

"Sh!" His right hand clamped down on her thigh like a vise and she gritted her teeth in pain. "Not now. Don't ever mention that. Not during the workweek. I'll...I'll explain over the weekend." He released his grip. "But you're a smart girl. Everything's gonna be fine."

There was a hint of pity in his fatherly smile, the same thing she'd seen on the conductor's face. Eit swallowed and turned to blow on her soup, wishing for some transparency in their daily operations beyond the absoluteness of death on the battlefield.

Soldier was the first to leave as usual, slamming his empty tray down in the sanitizer and putting on his helmet with a "Hrrmph!" "I'll see you ladies in the War Room for the debriefing." The rest of the team finished up their meals, and Eit washed down the last bits of mushy peas with another sip of water. She stood up carefully, taking a deep breath in case of any stomach upset, and dropped off her tray and utensils in the sanitizer.

"I think I'm going to do some more target training," she told Engie on their way out. He tipped his hard hat to her, and they parted ways as she headed down the corridor towards the training shed.

It wasn't really the building she was worried about. The hardest part about mastering the sentries, dispensers, and teleporters had been overcoming her own sense of disbelief at the technology being employed. By the end of Monday training, she could have a sentry at level 2 and a dispenser as well, set up within a minute. And having to run back and forth to gather supplies or move machines gave her a nice adrenaline boost that drove up her competency on the training field. But the firearms training was a different game entirely than anything she'd ever had to do.

Three days isn't enough time to learn shit, she decided, pumping the shotgun as she waited for the training routine to load. The shotgun was a the smallest one they had in the armory for the time being, and the stock was a little too short for her to brace comfortably. The accumulated kickback from the butt had created a massive bruise that blossomed over her right shoulder and sore arms, both which healed overnight due to the new accelerants in her system. She wasn't a bad shot, but the deafening bangs and strong recoil were constant reminders that she'd never held a gun in her hands before the previous Sunday.

Her sentry whirred back and forth and beeped happily, indifferent when it set its sights on a target that flipped up but saw it blasted to bits by Eit before it could shoot. This was how she trained on reaction, trying to beat out the sentry at target practice. After a few hours every day for the past three days, she could just barely keep up now if she focused.

All in all, it was pretty enjoyable, if tiring, work. As long as she didn't think about the fact that those plywood painted targets were supposed to be real, living people. Who might be shooting her back. Or worse.

She cursed quietly as she reached for more shells and came upon an empty pocket. She switched out for her pistol, and fired concurrently with her beeping sentry at a drawn BLU soldier that had just popped up. The pistol needed more shots to take down a target, and soon she was reaching for her reload cartridge with her left hand.

A gloved hand closed around her wrist, and a cold metal sliver pressed gently against her back. She froze.

"You are dead," Spy muttered in her ear. He withdrew the blade and she whipped around, right hand flying to the small of her back where a tiny slit was cut in the fabric but she was otherwise unharmed. Spy threw her left arm down, and she rubbed her wrist ruefully, trying to mask her shock and fear. "That was the handle you felt. But the BLU spy's knife will be looking to cut more than just fabric."

"Aren't you supposed to be at a debriefing right now?" A slight quaver entered her voice at the end of the question.

Spy flicked his knife into his pocket and brought out a slim cigarette case, hooking one into his mouth and lighting it. "Their self-aggrandizing summaries bore me. There is nothing more vulnerable than a man who thinks too much of himself." He gave her a sidelong glance and puffed at his cigarette. "Or herself."

Eit scoffed, wrinkling her nose at the smell of smoke. "I don't know what version of me you've been seeing, but I'm not much for the business of lying. I'm scared shitless."

Spy raised an eyebrow at her language. "That is wise. I admit, your honesty impresses me. But perhaps the enemy could do without knowing of your fear." He walked a slow circle around her, breathing out a steady stream of smoke. "You are aware, then, that this training routine is nothing like reality."

"Well aware." She destroyed her sentry with a press of the detonator.

"Build another one."

"What?" She looked at Spy, who made an expectant sweep with his hand while holding the cigarette. "Okay, sure."

"One cannot simply rely on training," Spy continued as she gathered some metal and whacked the assembling sentry, "but training is not the same as knowledge gained on the battlefield and shared." He waited for the sentry to finish setting up, and then he tossed a small box at her.

Eit caught it with a gloved hand, and read the label. "What's this...electro sapper?"

"Backstabbing." Spy bit down on his cigarette and flicked out his knife. "When a spy is cloaked, he can be anywhere." He suddenly disappeared, and Eit looked around, bewildered. Spy's voice appeared from various places as he moved, invisible. "It is a limited effect, but very powerful when used well." Eit turned, trying to triangulate where he was.

"The backstab results in certain death." She jolted and turned, finding him behind her with knife to her throat. He looked down his hooked nose at her, and plucked the sapper out of her white-knuckled hands. "And this sapper will disable your silly gunning machines."

Eit backed away, but he no longer seemed interested in her. He tossed the sapper onto her sentry, which buzzed with a burst of static and slumped into an unpowered position. Her hand itched to grab her wrench and repair her machine.

Spy fixed her with a piercing stare. "All of these are reasons why the BLU spy will be your worst enemy."


Engie must have told the rest of the team that he was leaving, and they realized that Eit would have to pick up the slack next week in battle. Every free minute of the past two days had been spent sparring, for lack of a better word, with various teammates, as they played mini-matches against each other. The learning curve was steeper, compared to the relative ease of the stock training routines, and she could feel herself slowing and plateauing each evening.

During the day, she observed matches, seeing strategy and memorizing strengths and weaknesses, and during afternoons and evenings, she built things and hauled them as Spy, Soldier, and Heavy tried their best to destroy them, and she ran for her supposed life, though they were always careful to keep dispensers and Medic at the ready to prevent off-hours respawn use. There was always the unspoken assessment that while the sparring was being conducted between matches, when her colleagues were already exhausted from fighting, she was still unable to completely hold her own. The gap in ability terrified her.

Weekend ceasefires always began at noon sharp on Fridays. At the sound of the airhorn, she dragged herself down the tower stairs and into the mess hall, where, to her surprise, everyone had already arrived. The conversation was more animated than usual, without the stress of impending post-lunch battle. Her mouth began to water at the delicious greasy smells of fried foods.

"Jesus, Scout, you're going ta choke on a bone," Demo warned, as Scout jumped up, still chewing.

"Doesn't matter, I got first seconds!" He shoveled more food onto his plate. "~I love fried chicken Fridays~," he sang to himself in a funny off-key wander.

"Eit, you're gonna want to get in there before Stringbean gobbles them all up," Engie called to her, smiling.

"Gotcha," Eit said, crossing to the serving grate. "Move over, Stretch."

To her relief, he took her teasing in good humor. "Yeah, alright, alright. Hey, here, you oughta have the last thigh piece. The wings are real good too, but you gotta get a load of this." He picked up the tongs and deposited the crisp golden chicken on her tray.

Eit gave him a bright smile. "Why thank you, Oh Great Benefactor Scout."

He shrugged and continued loading up his tray with green beans, cole slaw, and cornbread. "Don't mention it."

She decided to treat herself with a beer, and sat down in the seat near the end next to Spy. After her first bite of chicken, she looked up at Scout with wonder.

Scout gulped at his beer and nodded. "Right?!" He lowered his voice. "I mean, I never thought I'd say this, but this here fried chicken is better than what my ma makes!"

"Impossible to have such flavor," Heavy marveled between bites of fried chicken. "Is deal with devil. Has to."

"Oh, most certainly," Medic agreed. "Faustus himself could not have bartered a better deal."

Spy picked obstinately at his serving with a knife and fork, shuttling meager bits to his mouth before giving up entirely. "Disgusting American food, full of grease and overcooked vegetables..."

"Would you rather have at some snails, then?" Sniper suggested. Spy's scowl deepened.

"Und the French cuisine is even not more healthy," Medic pointed out. "Duck confit, for example, and so viele sauces with butter..."

"Don't be insipid, butter cannot be unhealthy," Spy refuted, leaning back and waving a dismissive hand. "It...it lubricates the arteries!"

Medic rubbed his brow, trying to come up with a coherent argument for why Spy was wrong. Demo jumped in: "Me mum used to swear on the butter too, y'ken. Said it kept against the cold, and made ya quick in the heat."

Soldier came back with his seconds and continued eating noisily, ignoring most of the conversation, until he suddenly sat bolt upright. "What day is it?" Bits of chewed chicken flew out of his mouth onto Pyro's mask,.

Pyro wiped his gogglespace clean. "Hud-huddah!"

"Speak English, Private!" Soldier growled. Pyro looked offended.

"It's Friday, meathead, how the hell else you think we're having fried chicken?"Scout yelled at him.

Soldier whipped around to point at Engineer. "You!" Engineer looked up from his cole slaw. "You and your sorry ass are shipping out of here!"

"Sure am, Sunday mornin'."

"Unacceptable!" He slammed his utensils down and stood up. "We canNOT let a good man go without a fight! I am calling on one last hurrah from you ladies, one last stand as MEN. Who's with me?"

Heavy raised his hand. "Soldier...is not cease fire?...rule is..."

"The ceasing of fire?" Medic finished. "Yes, quite. By definition. I am in full support of recreational slaughter, of course, the more cadavers the merrier, aber the contract is very specific that during cease fire it is verboten..."

"I'm not asking for WAR, you maggots!" Soldier growled. "This outstanding man needs a celebration! A shindig! Patriotic shenanigans!" He glared at the rest of the table.

"Purduh!" Pyro yelled in agreement.

"Aw shucks, y'all, y'all don't have to be gettin' a party goin' just for me." Engineer took off his goggles and ran a hand over his head.

"As much as I hate to admit," Spy sighed, "it is fitting to hold a send-off for a colleague. May I suggest a venture into Teufort, as our festive equipment is exceedingly lacking."

"Heavy like this idea. Night on top of town, da?"

"Night on the town, mate," Sniper corrected. "Got any ideas ?"

"How 'bout the Rodeo Pony?" Scout suggested slyly.

Engineer smiled and shook his head. "Come on, boys, y'all really don't gotta go wastin' your time entertainin' an old man like me, and besides, I've seen plenty of rodeos back in my day..."

"Nah, mate, it's our treat." Sniper patted Engineer awkwardly on the back. "Besides, the Rodeo Pony isn't, ah, isn't what you'd call a rodeo, really..."

"It's a titty bar!" Demo roared, laughing.

"Huddah-huh?"

"You know, with girls, and dancing," Scout prompted.

"And quality beer!" Soldier justified.

"I dunno, boys, I'm a married man," Engie protested.

"And my heart is married to Lady Liberty!" Soldier countered. "But any red-blooded American has the god-given right to enjoy the sight of a beautiful woman!"

"'s just that some of those beautiful lasses might be missing a few articles of clothes, is all."

Engineer cleared his throat. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't reckon the missus would be too happy with me. I'm just not really that type of guy. And maybe that kind of entertainment isn't for all of our tastes, if you catch my drift." He glanced quickly in Eit's direction.

The rest of the men swung their heads to look at her. It was as if they'd forgotten she existed. She looked up, still nibbling on a bit of chicken bone. "I stopped listening the moment I heard titty," she admitted. "But if that's where you want to go, I'd be fine tagging along, or staying here if it would make things less awkward. Haven't got a lot of feelings either way."

Sniper gave Scout a triumphant smirk and snapped his fingers. "Pay up, shortstop."

"What? That doesn't prove anything!"

"You heard her," Sniper insisted. "Not interested in titty."

"Fine," Scout pouted, and pulled out his wallet, handing Sniper a ten dollar bill. Then he brightened. "Hey, not like that's bad news, right? Means there's a chance for us guys, right, sweetcheeks?"

"Mon dieu," Spy sighed. "You still have so much to learn about the proper treatment of a lady..."

"Goddammit," Eit growled, feeling herself flush with embarrassment and anger. "Did you guys actually...? That's none of your goddamn business. And the name's Eit, for the last time." She stuffed the last forkful of green beans into her mouth and chewed sullenly.

Scout cleared his throat in the ensuing silence. "Listen, doll- Eit, it was just a joke, alright? I mean, we bet on stupid stuff like that all the time. We don't really have nothin' better to do, right?"

Eit shrugged and took a swig of beer. "If you say so."

Soldier, oblivious, continued on his train of thought. "Well, if we're looking for something family friendly for all of you Nancy boys, there's a bar called, uh, The Bar. And their beer does not consist entirely of watery piss."

Engineer hitched a smile back on his face. "That sounds like it'll fit the bill. And Eit, you'd be more than welcome to join us. I'd surely appreciate it."


"Stupid Scout. Stupid Sniper. And stupid me, for thinking that anything would change..." Eit muttered to herself, reloading her pistol. She could barely hear the words her mouth was making, the noise-suppressing ear protection clamped tightly on her head. The humanoid targets at the shooting range were riddled with holes, some with limbs blasted off from her shotgun. She cocked and fired again, hands clenching the pistol's grip to keep them from shaking. This wasn't training. This was just anger management.

Boys will be boys, she thought, taking some comfort in the entirely predictable feeling of each shot as the recoil shook her arms. And you just have to keep on proving you're worth every bit of them. And more.

There was always the little indignant bit of her, that asked, But why? Why should I have to prove anything? But she knew better. Nobody would consider that she had met a man's standard until she went beyond it, until they could ignore it no longer. She stalked over to the wall and reeled the targets in, tearing off the papers and replacing them with new target sheets. She was glad her hands had stopped shaking.

Eit started railing off more bitter shots at the targets once they got far enough against the wall. She was starting to like the smell of gunsmoke. Maybe she should have saved a few of the papers from the last round, which had precise clusters of bullet holes around vital areas.

"Fuck!" She dropped the gun and scrabbled at her chest, sticking a hand down her shirt, which she'd unbuttoned the top two buttons of, and where a burning hot shell had somehow flown. The shell evaded her, slipping farther down and searing against her skin, and she resorted to a silly dance, shaking it down into her overalls and finally out of her right pant leg. "Fuck you," she huffed at the shell, kicking it across the gallery with her boot and sneezing a little with the subsequent cloud of dust.

She rubbed her sternum gingerly, where a little red mark was forming that would likely blister. As she squatted down to pick up her dropped pistol, she caught a glimpse of pointed boots and slim legs in the corner of her vision.

Eit stood up quickly and stumbled against the protective railing as the headrush caught her. Sniper sauntered slowly towards her with a wolfish grin, and for a wild moment, she considered pointing the pistol at him, before she holstered it and took off her headphones, hooking them on her neck. "What do you want?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you've got an absolutely adorable sneeze?"

Eit felt the blood rising to her cheeks, and she headed towards the exit. "Buzz off, Snipes."

"Snipes. I like that." He cut her off at the doorway, leaning towards her again. "Nasty burn you've got there."

She slapped his hand away as he raised a finger to trace it. "Let me get by. I've got to-"

"Just hear me out, mate."

Eit sighed and glared up at the tall man.

He crossed his arms and looked away. "The lad means well, alright? Being out here so long's got us all acting like caged-up dingoes."

"That's hardly an excuse for grown men."

He had the good sense to look down at the ground. "Point. But you've got to adapt if you're planning to make it out here. Hate to break it to ya, but once Engie's gone, you're fair game. Sooner or later, someone's going to do something stupid, and you'll be less of a target if you set up boundaries."

"I-what?" Eit tucked her hair behind her ear. "I honestly have no idea what you're trying to say."

"I'm offering protection." His tawny eyes fixed her in place. "Now, it doesn't have to be me, but I'm your safest bet. Live off-site, plenty of privacy, and the other men, they respect me. And I'm not a loony like Medic or Solly, or bloody incoherent like Pyro or Demo."

"Are you suggesting-"

"Look, it doesn't have to- you don't have to-it's just for show, alright?" He pushed his sunglasses higher up his nose, fidgeting. "We men have standards, and if they know you're with me, they don't go after property that's-"

"You're disgusting." She pushed past him, face twisted in disbelief, and headed towards the barracks.

His voice echoed after her. "I'm just saying...and you should have Doc take a look at that burn..."

"Fuck you!" she yelled without looking back.

"Maybe later then?" Sniper called in jest, looking hopeful. She gave him the middle finger and turned the corner.


The encounter had her rattled even a few hours later, as she read alone in her room. So that was how it was going to be, living with eight other self-serving men. She'd had situations like this before, while applying for apprenticeships and research positions in college, but never a blatant propositioning like this.

There was definitely always fear. She showered early in the morning, before the sun or anyone else had come up, and slept for a few more hours before breakfast. She carried a heavy wrench with her at all times, enough to feel like she wasn't powerless. She locked her door every night, though she figured it wouldn't do much good against a barreling man like Heavy or Soldier. And that was about all she could do, other than blindly trusting the eight mercenaries.

But I've got standards too. Sniper's proposal wasn't something she'd agree to in a million years.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. "Hey, uh, Eit? You in there?"

For a moment, she thought about pretending to be asleep. It would make it easier for everyone. But she found herself answering. "Yeah, what is it?"

"We're, uh, we're gonna head out for the bar in a few minutes, if you wanna come with us? In the hallway near the doors."

Scout's voice reminded her of the teenager who'd punched her in the breast the first time they'd fought. That day had been a lesson to both parties; she'd learned to bind them with padding, and he'd learned that inclusion was sometimes the best apology.

"Sure, I'll be out in a sec."

"Uh, alright. Cool!"

Eit listened to his fast footsteps pattering away and got up to fix her clothes a bit. Sniper's right about Scout, though, she thought as she took off her grease-smudged overalls and pulled on a pair of worn jeans. He's spent the past few years here, instead of out in the world. He's just a kid. Can't be much older than me. If he's not exactly polite, you can chalk it up to being shut in with eight grown men, most of whom aren't really father figures.

"Let's just have a good time tonight, alright? Give Engie a proper sendoff," she said to herself, pulling on her boots. She composed herself, straightened her shirt, and walked out of her room, leaving her door unlocked.


The smoke in the Bar was thick enough to get a nicotine high. Every conversation stilled as they stepped into the bar; only the bartender kept rinsing and drying his glasses, excited at the prospect of these renowned customers. Eit knew the ten of them must have made a strange entourage: Medic with his khaki duster, an unfaded patch where some armband had been; Spy, in his perpetual balaclava; Pyro, in full-costume as usual; Heavy, who had to ease sideways through the door; and Engineer, who still had his single rubber glove on. Soldier and Demo, laughing raucously at some joke one of them had told the other, seemed almost like the most normal of them all in the environment, and that was really saying something.

Spy, who needed some convincing to come to town with them, immediately split from the group, and within a few minutes had roped himself some simpering local woman. They snagged a booth for two, and Eit heard snippets of nasal French murmurings and high-pitched giggles as they passed.

Sniper, ever the loner, seemed distinctly uncomfortable, and he did a double take and a stammering reply when the other bartender, a homegrown blonde bombshell, asked him what he wanted to drink. Let's see how your skills fare in the wild, Eit thought with mild schadenfreude, watching the bartender's smile fade as Sniper grinned at her with his crooked maw.

On the other hand, Scout's obnoxious boyishness seemed to be doing him favors as the local barflies mistook it for true confidence, and they flocked around him because he didn't seem capable of posing a threat.

I guess he's not that bad looking, really. He's got nice eyes, even if he's got teeth like a- Eit shook her head slightly and flicked her eyes to the neon flickering "open" sign so that Scout wouldn't catch her staring.

It was just the three shots of Ole Scrumpy she'd taken with the rest of the team before they all left. Handling alcohol had never been her strong point, and she felt the familiar relaxation in her limbs, the haze in her head, and the warmth in her cheeks that she hoped would hide her blush.

The rest of them, along with Eit, took over the table in the back corner, drawing up extra chairs to crowd under the bare bulb. Soldier bought a beer for everyone at the table, more of a formality than anything.

"Is entire team babies?" Heavy asked incredulously, the bottle dwarfed in his paw. "How can this be?" He headed to the bar and brought back the bartender after a few minutes, who had a massive tray of shots in tow. "Two! One for toast, and one for when we cannot remember!"

Medic sniffed at one of the two clear shotglasses in front of him. "Was ist das?"

"Is vodka. Is drink for men! And for Eit," Heavy added. He picked up the glass, his large fingers holding it delicately like an egg, and raised it high. "To Engineer. Always credit to team."

"To Engineer!" The rest of them raised their shots and echoed. Engie smiled sheepishly and clinked glasses as best as he could with all of them, and then the entire table threw their heads back and downed the alcohol. Eit blinked and made a face as the burn made its way down her throat. Tastes like poor decisions in freshman year.

"Aw, jeez, are you guys doing shots without me?" Scout wrestled his way out of the cluster of admirers and pulled up a chair. "Unbelievable. Hey fatty, hit me up!"

Heavy frowned, but Pyro piped up with, "Huddah!" and slid both his shots and his beer to Scout's edge of the table.

Scout clinked his glass with Engineer's beer bottle. "Alright, hardhat, to six wicked years of dominatin' BLUs!" He took the shot and tried to cover up his cough and watering eyes. "Whoooo! That's what I'm talking about!"

"Ya hear that? Six years, laddie! Though I ken it's more'n that, you were here before any of us," Demo slurred.

"Yep, just hit ten last month," Engineer clarified. "It's high time I get back and see how the old homestead is getting along."

"You say you got a missus, Engie?"

"That's right. Her name's Laura May, and she's the prettiest darn thing this side of the Mason-Dixon."

"Engineer must send photo then!"

He chuckled and took another sip of beer. "We'll see if anything I mail back to you guys can get past the censors. What about you all, then? All these years, and I still feel like I never really got to know y'all past the day-to-day grind."

Soldier pulled out a battered photograph from his wallet. "My heart belongs to my country, and to Miss Betty Rogers, American beauty extraordinaire." He passed the photo around, and Eit took in the faded blonde curls, blue blouse that matched her eyes, and the crudely written "I love you xx" that Soldier had clearly written himself.

"Ah, that's a sweet lookin' lass you've got there!"

"She is an angel of the highest caliber," Soldier agreed. "She tolerated me for three years in her English class, and when I am no longer at war with those sorry BLUs, I am going to return and marry her as declared by my manifest destiny."

"Ach. Me mum's been naggin' me for years now to 'find a pretty lass and carry on the lineage!'" Demo mocked in a crotchety voice. "Mayhap once I leave this business, I can settle down, get meself a wifey and a nice glass eye...Ah, who am I kidding!" He and Soldier roared in laughter and slapped their hands on the table.

Medic was explaining to Engie in the midst of the din, "...ja, und Sybille und ich have been married for before we came to this country. Two perfectly healthy boys, Franz und Johann, and I am encouraged to spend holiday mit sie when I return."

"But," Engie seemed confused, "there's no communication otherwise?"

"Ja, it is all legal correspondence. Clean, simple, convenient. Keine probleme of housework, or who will go to speak with the teachers, or financial sharing. Nur ein perfect marriage, mit no hard feelings."

"No love either, then, Doc."

Medic waved a dismissive hand. "Pfah! Love is nonsense. A marriage cannot survive on love, only legality. And besides, I would bore of my wife to speak with her more than twice a year. And likewise for her, and my children."

"Is not so bad as you say, Doktor," Heavy contested. "Family is good, happy life. Talk of neighbors, of animal, of village idiot! Never boring."

"Yeah, yeah, heard it already," Scout sighed. "So that's the stuff you're frickin' gabbin' about all the time on the phone. Twenty minutes of talking about animals? Really?"

"Oi, it's a bit more interestin' than twenty minutes of hearin' ya say 'alright,' yeah?" Sniper teased.

"That's only when my ma's talking," Scout scowled. "And it's my twenty minutes, so keep your big schnozz outta it, alright?"

"Twenty minutes?" Eit asked.

"Phone day, at the end of every month," Scout explained. "Twenty minutes each, and unlimited access to listenin' in on Meatcake's commie-babble, or Sniper's arguments with his parents."

"My dad's just...not the biggest fan of my profession. Sniping. But it pays the bills, so my mum's alright with it."

"Funny, my old man was more'n happy to see me go into the mercenary business," Engineer mused, "but it was the missus and my ma that took more convincing. But you probably don't have a problem with that, huh, Slim?"

"Are you kiddin' me?" Scout interrupted. "Ladies love a man that handles guns."

'Well, I'd like to hear you back up this allegation with your extensive relationship experience."

"Says the moron who pisses in jars. I'm tellin' ya, I got ladies lined up back home."

"You're a piss-poor liar, mate."

Demo bought another round of two shots, and Eit downed them with all of the other men, trying her hardest to ignore how it reminded her of freshman year. Even her improved merc's metabolism wasn't keeping up with the amount of alcohol in her system, and she felt her awkwardness softening around the edges.

"What about you, Eit?"

She looked away from the nauseating scene of Spy twirling a lock of the local woman's hair in his gloved fingers. "Huh?"

"Got a guy back home? Any good stories?"

Eit shook her head with a scoff. "Nah. Never really had time for that sort of stuff in college, and the guys I grew up with on the street are like brothers. Pretty sure my dad'll have a fit if I ever bring a guy home."

"Ain't that the truth." Soldier grimaced. "When I have a daughter, I will make sure to introduce any potential suitors to Misters Smith and Wesson before he even comes over for dinner."

Eit grinned. "Though he did try to set me up once with a friend's son. Didn't go well. Suit, smart mouth, not really my type. And let's just say it's real hard to go on a second date if the first one involved having to get stitches."

"My ma used to say she wouldn't give a guy the time of day if she could beat him in a fight," Demo agreed.

"Huddah hah!" Pyro started to share. "Huddah puh-hah, huh-muhmuhdah-"

"Give us a break, chubs, we can't understand a word you're saying under all that rubber," Scout teased.

Pyro paused, and then did something entirely unexpected and slipped the gas mask off of his chin, up to his nose. His voice was husky and forced as he spoke. "That happened to a girl from my village once, she refused to be married off unless-"

"Great Scott, what the hell happened to your face, Private?"

The table was silent. Pyro's lips were a thin pale gash on his tan skin, skin that had faded since he'd worn the suit all the time. A pink patch of burned skin pulled taught from under his chin and flared up his left cheek, and another ragged scar tore across his right jawbone down into the collar of his suit. His teeth were white and gritted as he growled, "Accident."

"Doesn't look like any accident I've ever seen," Sniper replied moodily. "That right there on your jaw's a scratch with intent to murder."

"Some guys don't like it when you go after their girl."

"So you were tryin' to score on the goalie?"

"Something like that."

"So what happened?"

Pyro ignored Scout and flagged down the waitress for a round of shots. "We all got stuff we're not proud of, alright? Let me keep my past the past. This evening's not about me." Without another word, he indicated for the rest of them to toss down the shot, and he remasked himself afterwards and leaned back, out from the general circle around the table. The conversation started to pick up again, lubricated by the alcohol, and soon there was laughter fending off the starless dark as the night rolled on.


Eit stood in Engineer's workshop, which had been more or less tidied up by him before he left. On the workbench, there was a battered notebook, and a left-handed yellow glove, the counterpart to the one she remembered him always wearing on his right. She picked it up and pressed her palm to it fondly. A small note on top of the notebook read: "For Eit. Good luck out there. Make me proud."

She took them back to her room, yawning as she placed them on her desk. Tomorrow she'd make her debut on the field. Maybe Engie's old notebooks would hold some helpful tips for her, or at least some comfort.

She flipped open the worn cover, smiling at the thumbprint in chain lube. And the more she tried to read, the more confused she got. Everything was gibberish, every page filled with a series of numbers, neatly stacked in rows, always hyphenated. Even the diagrams were half finished, lines terminating at random and numbered circles floating in space, labeling nothing.

"Well, I'll be." It was some sort of cypher, a numbered code, but it could have been for a spaceship launch, for all she knew. She could hear Engineer's Texas drawl in her head, with his infuriating smile: Learnin's an interactive process. Ya don't just get answers, ya gotta work for 'em."

Eit turned to the glove instead, slipped it on. A crackling sound, and she pulled out a slip of paper that had been pushed into one of the fingers. The message was scrawled in purposeful black marker letters.

RTFM.


And that's it for now. Not very action packed, and pretty fluffy, I know, but the characters kind of took it off on its own path after I started writing. Next chapter is in the works and will be more serious and have more action. And a little more unraveling of the mysterious warring enterprise that is RED and BLU...