"Man, why the fuck are we protecting a buncha fast lemon or whatever?"
"It's called quicklime, and because we're paid to, boy. Now shut it."
A BLU Scout sat atop a wooden crate full of sacks of Mann Co. Corpse-Grade Quicklime. The lid of the crate was pushed open just ajar, courtesy of the curious Scout who had wanted to know just what exactly he was tasked with protecting. In his mind, he had no idea what quicklime was and why it was so important, for the scrapper had never touched it once in his life. According to what he had been told by a few people here and there, quicklime was originally meant to protect a dead body and prevent it from decaying. Whatever Mann Co. was doing to it however, resulted in it degrading a corpse faster than ever. A grave that was six inches shallower than usual, a hacksaw, and a bag of Mann Co. Corpse-Grade Quicklime would turn a person into nothing but a couple of bones in a matter of hours.
He kind of got it, given how many people the mercenaries had killed on the order of the vague and vile Administrator. Scout himself had put his hands around the necks of a couple of people - metaphorically, of course. The short and lanky boy was in no way strong enough to strangle a man in the way a Heavy or Soldier could, but he had taken out a few people in the backs of alleyways with a nasty blast of his scattergun.
No one had ever explained why he was killing people, and he didn't need to know. He was okay with that.
A wave of dark clouds rolled over the chilly alpine sky above, thundering on relentlessly like the everlasting ocean tide on a rocky shore, though instead of crashing into the mountains and breaking like waves, the clouds simply passed right through, their formations occasionally breaking up and spreading thin like mist before disappearing into the rest of the sky. In the distance, a light rain was slowly inching closer, though it would be at least another half hour before it reached the quicklime factory.
The facility was reasonably sized in order for Mann Co. to produce the tonnes of corpse-grade quicklime it needed to quickly dispose of the bodies it produced on the daily. It stretched into the alpine mountains, concrete buildings with plain windows that offered nothing but the most basic ventilation that was needed to keep the whole place from exploding. A couple strips of a faded red paint that was scored and scratched from years of knocking heavy loads into it by accident marked the outer walls. At the top of the front building, a giant metal sign that read out the owning company's name was lit up by four spotlights hanging over it. It was no five-star hotel or even a two-star shack, but it did its job in producing what it was designed to produce and no more. Hell, it wasn't even a comfortable place to sleep in.
The Administrator had sent six mercenaries from Teufort to protect the facility against supposedly endless waves of robots that came from giant, blue tankers. It was all of Gray Mann's creations, the vile and confusing old man sending hundreds of robots at a time in an attempt to storm the facility. Why anyone ever wanted to take over a quicklime factory was beyond the mercenaries, but they were being paid to keep the place secure, so that was what they did.
The team was made up of three REDs - Pyro, Soldier, and Engineer; as well as three BLUs - Scout, Sniper, and Spy. When the notice first came addressed individually to the selected few, the Administrator hadn't specified that both RED and BLU were going to be working together. The first few days in the same area had been tough, for it was ingrained into them to kill each other upon sight. At least now, they were okay after two weeks of protecting a quicklime factory of all places. There was still some tension hanging between the teams, but they could stand near each other without weapons being drawn. Some of them even dared to talk to each other, which was better than anyone would have expected.
It was a curious choice for the Administrator to specifically choose those six, but they each had qualities and backgrounds that made them ideal for the job. She knew better than any of them, and whatever plan she had in her mind was carefully laid out and with full intent. She played with a million strings, tugging and twitching and controlling everyone like a marionette without them realising. Mann Co.'s war against Gray Industries was also her war, and the old man likely knew that very well. The mercenaries had no inkling of their plans, but they were simple men after all. All they needed was some money, guns, and a target to kill and they were happy to engage.
Right now, Scout was very unhappy, because he had money, guns, but no one to engage a fight with. For a moment, he thought of just blasting the RED Engineer who sat next to him and had told him to shut up, but it felt wrong to think like that. Then, he recoiled instantly at the idea that he was being so forgiving to a RED of all people. In the young scrapper's mind, and in any other situation, the Engineer would have been long dead if he even had the chance to get so close to him. Yet the Texan genius now sat just a few feet away on a rock, strumming a relaxed tune on his guitar. Scout had long since noticed the shotgun leaning against the RED's lap, and it was likely already loaded and racked just in case, but both the older man's hands were on the neck and strings of the guitar plucking a tune out.
Scout opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, like he wanted to say something but just couldn't figure out what to say. His first instinct was to throw out some casual insult at the RED, but it didn't feel right. They had gotten along for a little over a week, so being mean and destroying any niceness between the two teams seems like the quickest way to get Sniper and Spy to yell at him in front of RED. At the same time, being nice and friendly towards a RED was so awfully unnatural that he couldn't bring himself to say it. Eventually, he settled for a comment about the guitar that felt neutral enough, "Nice banjo." He knew full well that it wasn't one, but he couldn't help himself before the half-assed mockery came out.
Engineer sighed, losing his focus for a second. He lay his fingers flat on the guitar strings, cutting off the music. "It's a guitar, boy. You ain't never seen one in your life?"
Scout shrugged, a little disappointed that Engineer hadn't reacted in a bigger way. "Nah, I've seen them. Never played it though. Just wanted to see how you was gonna react if I called it a banjo."
He got a huff in response, before the music started playing again. Scout's eyes drifted back into the gloomy distance. Somehow the rain hadn't yet reached the Mannworks facility yet, but the mist of rain had clearly gotten much closer, though a break in the rolling clouds promised that it would be a short and light drizzle instead of a complete downpour. Unable to handle the lack of action, he tapped his nails on the top of the crate again and sighed bouncing his legs up and down in the hopes that one of Gray's giant tankers would show up - perhaps carrying a few thousand bots this time so he wouldn't run out of action too quickly.
A few minutes of endless leg bouncing and nail-tapping later, a figure appeared on the horizon. It didn't come from over the mountains where Gray's expendable robotic army. Scout got excited for a second and lurched forward, grabbing his scattergun off the floor and racking a shot. Next to him, Engineer stopped playing and his hand reached for his shotgun, but he was more reluctant in getting up so quickly.
Scout's dreams of having something to kill were quickly dashed as the figure on the horizon revealed itself to be Sniper. His hood and the top of his shoulders were spattered with droplets of rain, and very soon were Scout and Engineer feeling the drizzle too. Scout's face fell at the sight of his teammate as Sniper walked back to the main facility with his rifle slung over his back.
"Nothing?" Scout asked, a pitchy whine finding its way into his voice.
Sniper shook his head, and Scout's face fell. "Not today. Ain't even see the tanker out there. We're in for another quiet night." At the report, Engineer packed his stuff up and headed back towards the main facility as a thin mist of rain showered the mountainside facility. The ex-bounty hunter quickly noticed Scout's very obvious, not-subtle-at-all pout. He asked, "Disappointed?"
"We ain't kill nothing for two days already!" Scout complained. "I just need to," He made a wringing gesture with his hands, scowling like he was holding some imaginary enemy's neck in his grip, "kill something, y'know?"
Sniper chuckled, a deep growl that almost sounded animalistic. He reached out to pat the boy's shoulder. "They'll be here sooner or later. Gray ain't gonna let go of this place so soon. Head back, boy." He vaguely gestured to the sheltered facility and herded Scout off, the scrapper letting his shoulders sag as he walked with his teammate.
Back at base, everyone was heading inside to get out of the rain. Scout caught a glimpse of the BLU Spy and RED Pyro talking, and couldn't help but see that as a target for some mockery. He split off from Sniper who didn't stop him, and went bounding up to the two.
"Weeeeeell, you two got comfy with each other reeeeeal quick," Scout teased. He leaned against another crate full of what was presumably more corpse-grade quicklime, a stupid grin on his face like he had taken a victory with his teasing comment. "You two dating already or something?"
Spy was certainly used to the boy's quips and never-ending teasing. He had dealt with Scout for over three years now, and his annoying comments were easily ignored by the assassin. Pyro however, had a score to settle with Scout and was a little less tolerant of the boy given that they were on opposing teams.
The masked maniac reached up to pop open his mask's air filter so he could be heard more clearly and get a breather for a second. "Sure, whatever keeps you single." Scout didn't get to see the cheeky grin Pyro had after he got the reaction he wanted, which was Scout scowling as his joke backfired. It must have been obvious that Scout wanted to retort, because Spy nudged him away with a quiet advisory not to stir up anything. Scout couldn't argue as Spy ushered him inside, Pyro following behind to get out of the rain.
Inside the base, the entrance of the facility had been transformed to fit some semi-permanent residents. The mercenaries were due to be stationed there until Gray either died, screwed off, or found something more interesting to attack that needed protection more than a quicklime factory. How long that would be, no one had any idea. Mann Co. hadn't exactly built the place with people staying too long in mind, for employees either got to go home on the regular or died at their job. Both situations meant that Mann Co. didn't need to think about lodging, but it did become a problem with the mercenaries being around. They had to find their own places to sleep, which meant the floor in their case.
The teams split off into their own sides, REDs gathering in one area and BLUs in another. Food came in the form of MREs sent in a box. Whoever had packed them had either not cared about how many mouths there were to feed, or was just so uncertain about how long they would need these, for there were easily over a hundred of them shoved into one crate with no regard for neatness, and there were about ten crates of these just dumped in a pile. The box was left in the middle of the room, so anyone who needed something to eat could just go grab a pack, rip it open, and eat whatever food was inside. None of them were picky eaters anyway, and perhaps that had been a factor in why they were chosen. Not to say that the food was bad in any way; in fact some of it was quite tasty, even if a little heavily salted.
Scout snagged the first pack he could get his hands on and brough it back to the BLU side of the shared base. He tore it open and dug in messily with no regard for what Sniper or Spy thought of him. They didn't mind it anyway, because they had gotten so used to it over the years of living with the boy. Sniper was hungry and helped himself to an MRE as well, while Spy was content to just sit on the countertop of the shoddily put-together resupply station and just observe as he always did.
Through mouthfuls of some kind of rice and stew, Scout got curious as he noticed Spy was watching the RED mercenaries on the other side. Engineer was once again playing his guitar, while Pyro sat on the floor listening, his head moving in rhythm. Soldier had chowed down on an MRE already and was halfway through his second, his ravenous appetite still not yet satiated.
"What's so interesting?" Scout asked, spitting bits of rice here and there. Spy shied away from it, scooting a little further to be out of the danger zone.
"Come again?" The assassin prompted.
"Ya keep looking at them." Scout almost wanted to throw in the joke about Spy and Pyro dating again, but the moment passed and it felt awkward to do so now. "Why are ya so close to Pyro anyway? Thought Spies hate Pyros."
"I don't hate anyone, Zack. I have no reason to. Pyro hasn't wronged me personally."
Scout raised an eyebrow. "You got ya head on straight, V? He's a Pyro. Ain't it his job to kill you?"
His comment was met with a knowing smile. "Exactly. It's just his job. We're all just doing our jobs."
"You're fuckin' weird."
"You're both weird, end of story," Sniper muttered as he finished his food and threw the crumpled packaging into an crate that had been designated as the trash bin. "It's yours and Pyro's watch tonight, Spy. Then Scout and Engie."
Spy nodded his acknowledgment of the statement. There were always two mercenaries on watch at any given moment, just in case Gray decided to spring an attack. It was generally agreed upon that Sniper and Soldier, Spy and Pyro, as well as Scout and Engineer were the pairs to take watch at the same time just so there weren't any accusations of teams plotting against each other. The pairs were also made with the intent of them not trying to kill each other all the time, and it had worked out quite well so far. Spy didn't mind them at all, but Scout certainly had something to say about it.
"Aw, come on Sniper, really? I just finished my watch!" He whined, pulling down his cheetah-head bonnet like it could help him deflect his responsibilities.
Sniper eyed him as he pulled his mask back up. "No, ya didn't. I just did. Better get some sleep if you want to make your next shift easier, mate." He picked up his rifle and left, and was swiftly followed by Scout trailing after him and complaining about how he had been sitting outside too, even though it was purely by choice in the hopes of seeing some action. Spy watched them go, before he was approached by Pyro.
The masked man still had his filter unclipped, a rusted axe clutched in one hand and flamethrower loosely held in the other. Spy met his unblinking gaze evenly, almost looking beyond the glass and into the man's hidden eyes. "Ready to go?" Pyro asked.
Spy stood up and nodded, putting his hands behind his back as they left the base and went out into the rain and darkening skies. "Of course. If we're lucky, we'll be in for another quiet night."