If you're still here, that means you haven't switched to AO3 yet. You're missing out on some quality art, man. Jokes aside, let it be known I still am accepting any feedback you guys can throw at me. Chapter ideas, chapter titles, pointing out stupid mistakes, etc. Thanks to my good friend Eclip for the chapter title!

The new visitor wasn't the most lively of things. It wasn't speaking, it wasn't moving, it didn't even seem to be breathing. It simply stood there, amongst the wreckage of the teleporter. The team continued to gawk at it, barring the Soldier, who was still unconscious. Medic reached out a hand to touch it, trying to ascertain if it was actually alive. Suddenly, its head snapped up, causing everyone to flinch. The questionably sane man of science took a full step back, whipping his arms behind his back as he gave his best pass at an innocent smile. Despite the entity having looked up, its eyes were still obscured. In fact, it was debatable whether it possessed them at all. It smoothly, almost mechanically assessed its surroundings before turning its head back to the original direction it was facing. The mercenaries watched its every movement warily. The staring match between the two parties was broken by the Pyro, who started yelling excitedly while pointing at the newcomer. As always, its words were muffled by the gas mask it always wore. The Engineer, who spent enough time around the enigmatic firestarter to somewhat understand it, raised an eyebrow.

"A duck..?" he asked, peering at the bright white and decidedly human-shaped creature before him. Before Pyro could elaborate, the Scout butted in, as always.

"No, seriously. Who is dis guy?" he asked, motioning to the baseball attire-clad humanoid. The other team members (barring Soldier) turned to stare at the runner.

"We don't know," Spy said in a voice that was a mix of condescension and exasperation.

"I'm the Batter." Everyone was startled at the unfamiliar, monotone voice. The Demoman's bottle slowly slipped out of his hand as he paused mid-drink, landing with a clunk on the concrete.

"Bloody hell, the thing talks!" the explosives expert exclaimed. Ever the diplomat, the Spy stepped forward to address the newly named Batter.

"Well, Monsieur... Batter. You can call me the Spy. What brings you here?" he asked cautiously. He held his arms behind his back, knife in hand just in case things took a turn for the worse.

"I don't know," the Batter replied succinctly. The Spy waited for a moment, possibly for some elaboration. None was provided. Meanwhile, the Medic looked like he was about to lose whatever was left of his mind of excitement. He did his best to stay standing in one place, but twitched restlessly, leaning in one direction or the other to get a good look at the arrival. The Pyro was equally, if not more delighted by the Batter. In fact, it decided now was a prime opportunity to greet him. Hefting a slightly chipped fire axe, it stepped forward to offer the sweet lollipop to the adorable ducky.

"Whoah, whoah, Pyro, NO!" The Engineer grabbed the firebug by the arm to stop it from hacking the mysterious person to pieces. He stepped in front of it to keep it from trying anything else. Thankfully, the Batter remained unperturbed by the Pyro's intimidating advance. "Sorry 'bout that, mister. Pyro's a bit..." the builder trailed off. "Anyway! Howdy. I'm the Engineer." He smiled in a friendly manner and held his hand out for a handshake. When the Batter made no move to take it, the shorter man's smile turned into a more strained, awkward one. He slowly lowered his arm.

"Do you know of my mission?" the Batter asked cryptically. With his emotionless voice, it was difficult to tell if the question was rhetorical or not. The Spy traded a few sideways glances with the intelligent members of the team before answering.

"Not... at the moment. If you don't mind, I ask if you would kindly go along with Scout over there. We have some things to discuss about events prior to your arrival here." He made sure to keep the response broad enough to encompass both possibilities of the meaning of the Batter's words. Thankfully, he didn't seem too hostile, considering that he hadn't even taken a single step from the scorch mark where the teleporter once was. It wasn't too much of a risk, the Spy hoped. So far, he hadn't done anything unpredictable and seemed almost robotic with his responses. It shouldn't be too difficult to contain him. Meanwhile, Scout didn't seem too happy with his assigned task.

"Aw man, why do I hafta look after it?" he complained.

"Think of it as an opportunity to tell this 'Batter' about your... accomplishments," Spy responded. This seemed to satisfy the egotistical athlete, who immediately jogged off and motioned for the Batter to follow. He did, eerily making almost no noise as he strode away. For someone who hadn't even moved when he had first appeared, he was quite quick. Once the two disappeared from view, the real discussion started.

"So. What do you propose we do to deal with this?"

The Batter had many things on his mind. He had no mission. He was in a strange world. The air felt thin and smelled wrong, though the smoke swirling around the man in the cloth mask (the Spy, he recalled) provided a little bit of familiarity. However, it was only an outlier in the alien setting. The colors seemed too dull, the surroundings didn't seem to be metal or plastic, and the people? They were-

"So, then, I whacked him and he flew like fifty thousand million feet, and everyone was like, 'Whoah, Scout, you're so strong and awesome!' Basically, if you didn't get it, I'm totally da best one here. None o' those guys hold a candle to me. Oh! And you just gotta hear about this one time..." The Batter tuned the annoying little man out. Or at least, he tried to. It wasn't an easy task. Searching for something to focus on, he settled on walking. One foot in front of the other. Each step, not controlled by some being from above, but rather by his very own will. The absence of the Player was still strange- especially considering the fact he was no longer in a vast nothingness. He was stranded in a world full of life.

"...And guess what, he couldn't land a single hit on me! I wasn't even tryin' and I totally..." He stopped. That annoying voice had seeped in. Again, the Batter forced the auditory information to the back of his mind before continuing his train of thought. He existed for a purpose, and now that his mission was complete, he expected to at least attain a new one if he was to remain in existence. Yet, this was not the case. Any guidance from the missing Player or even the larger being who gave them their instruction was gone. A strange feeling settled upon him, one he couldn't quite place. Emptiness... He wasn't useless, was he? No, he had a function. It was only a matter of time until it revealed itself. Perhaps the people here could be of some assistance- though likely not the one he was currently with. He doubted that this 'Scout' had even accomplished any of the things he claimed he had. Despite the fellow baseball cap wearer's irritating nature, the Batter had to admit that the lack of nervousness was refreshing after a world full of Elsen.

"...Yeah! Anyway- Hey, baseball guy, can you, uh, move once and a while? 'Cause, you just standin' there is kinda freaky. Eh, anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah! I was surrounded on all sides..."

Or maybe not.

"I do not trust this man," Heavy announced, glaring down the hall at where the Batter had departed.

"Well, I guess we don't know too much about him. We don't know where he's from, we don't know what he wants... Heck, we don't know what he even is," Engineer added, thinking aloud. Pyro raised a finger and mumbled a response. "But I'm fairly sure he isn't a duck." The unstable firestarter crossed its arms at this silly denial and shook its head, another mutter escaping its mask. "That's just harsh, pardner."

"I, for one, zhink he is fascinating," Medic chimed in, punctuated by a step forward.

"Of course ya would," Sniper muttered, quiet enough for the crazed medical practitioner to miss it.

"Ye know, I actually agree wit' Doc on this one," Demo admitted. "I don' think he had any eyes!" There was a decent helping of respect in the one-eyed drunkard's voice.

"I believe you've all forgotten that we still need to leave this base as soon as possible," Spy reminded everyone, walking over from checking communications. "In fact, the Administrator has already given us our new location."

"Leave? What'd I miss?" The Demoman was suddenly a bit more attentive.

"This is secret base. BLU not supposed to know where it is. So we leave for new secret base," Heavy summarized in his typical direct fashion. "I say we leave faceless baby man and go."

"No!" Medic objected, rather suddenly and loudly. "He's nothing like anything I've ever seen before! I- ve could have some use for him. Perhaps..." He trailed off as he got lost in thought. So many possibilities...

The argument continued for a little while. Many members of the team didn't actually care too much, though Pyro did seem to want the Batter to stay. Heavy maintained that the newcomer didn't sit quite right with him, and the Medic asserted, rather forcefully, that he'd quite like the creature around. Demo suggested that the Batter make his own choice, but no one seemed to give the idea much thought. Finally, the Spy proposed a compromise.

"The 'Batter' seems rather docile, does he not? At any rate, he doesn't seem like one to do anything unreasonable. And if he does, we have him outnumbered nine to one. Our base situation is the more pressing one at the moment. We don't need the BLUs to come back whilst we have an unknown in our midst. Why don't we solve this first, and then deal with the Batter later?" This suggestion was met with nods all around, though the Heavy's was more begrudging than accepting. Everyone began to disperse, beginning their preparations again. Out of nowhere, the Soldier woke up.

"AAUGH! LEGS! WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME? I AM ON THE FLOOR. I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE FLOOR. YOU WILL DO YOUR JOB, LEGS, OR I WILL-"

"Soldier." The sheer amount of disdain in the phrase seemed to work magic as the crazed patriot ceased yelling at his legs (though not before giving them a low "Oh, I am not done with you"). He got off of the ground and looked at the masked Frenchman who had addressed him. "Go pack up your heads and whatever other... things you own. We're leaving."

"Really? Where?"

"You were there. I- you know what, don't think about it. It's an order, that's all you need to know."

"If you think you can order me around, you filthy Frenchman, you CANNOT!" The Soldier's ramblings were unheard, as Spy had already slunk away, leaving him to yell at nothing about the glory and superiority of America. Eventually, he forgot the original problem he had, the only thing sticking in his mind being the order. And as a good American soldier, of course it was his duty to follow it.

The Spy was off in search of the Batter and the Scout. It was in unspoken agreement that he would be the one to deal with them, as he proposed the idea of what to do with the Batter. And, of course, he saw himself as the only one fit to do the deed anyway. He simply followed the sound of Scout's voice, and eventually came across him talking animatedly to the Batter, who was significantly less animated. He almost laughed at the poor soul, forced to sit through Scout's stories for all this time. The only thing that stopped him was the immediate annoyance he felt as he existed within the general proximity of Scout deep in his rambling. The exaggerated tales of excellence, that cocky grin, and that obnoxious voice immediately sucked whatever good mood he had out of him. The Spy cleared his throat. Only the Batter noticed, the Scout too engrossed in his own speech to hear.

"How do you get him to stop talking?" the Batter asked innocently, turning his head to look at the other man.

"You don't." The reply was in a tone of absolute resentment. The Batter considered this newfound knowledge for a moment before raising his bat and whacking the Scout hard in the head with astonishing speed. The Spy wasn't sure if even his reflexes could have stopped it, though he didn't exactly try, if only to see the Bostonian get some retribution. He did draw his knife, however, in case the Batter decided to turn on him as well.

"He stopped." The phrase was completely deadpan. The Spy semi-successfully bit back his laughter, a small snort and a bit of a smile escaping.

"Auugh, my hEAD!" Scout complained, arms over his injured skull. "Dat hurt, you moron! MEDIC!" The Medic, far off in his lab, looked up from sliding various organs into a cooler. He could have sworn he heard- or sensed something. Something horrible. However, he dismissed it and got back to work.

"He's talking again." The Batter took back everything he ever thought about this man being better than the Elsen. He raised his bat to strike again, but was stopped by the other occupant, the sharply dressed man.

"I think that's enough. Tell me, are you planning to do that to anyone else here?" The Spy chose the direct route, since the Batter seemed like a very direct person.

"No."

"Good. Now, we are leaving this place soon. If you don't mind, Batteur, you will be coming with us."

"Is this my mission?" The Spy paused at this inquiry. He seemed rather focused on a 'mission,' whatever it may be. It was almost like he was a robot without programming, sitting around until it obtained directions or orders.

"...Yes, for now. Go wait in the other room until everyone is ready." There wasn't any better time than now to test this being's adherence to instruction. Things seemed to be going well, as the Batter immediately and purposefully walked back to the room he appeared in.

The Batter liked the masked man, the Spy- or, at least, whatever feeling would equate to 'like' for the stoic puppet. The man had an air of familiarity, from the smoke swirling around him to the snippets of a language he recognized. The Spy had even informed him of a mission, a task. Strangeness didn't bother the Batter, but a small part of him found the slight bit of normalcy nice. So, he waited.

In an unspecified place, a woman sat in front of a wall of monitors. Most of what she saw was mundane, just the usual activities of the mercenaries she kept watch on. However, she felt something wasn't right as she glanced over the screens. With a more critical eye, she examined the video feeds again. There. A man, clad in white, just in the corner of the display.

"Pauling," the woman said in a cold voice. A younger woman, standing behind her, looked up.

"Yes, Administrator?"

"We have a... an unforeseen variable." Pauling scanned over the screens until she spotted the aforementioned issue.

"Oh no."

"Keep an eye on it. If it begins to meddle, take care of it."

"Okay. Got it."