Back at it! Getting really sleep deprived because I keep staying up all night. lol

Also, please leave a review with feedback! Reviews are what keep a writer motivated to keep writing! ;)


It was just like blinking.

Tracy was suddenly back in the resupply of her base. She squealed, spinning around despite herself, but the enemy Spy was nowhere to be seen. She was pleased to find that her burns were gone, her uniform just as pristine as it had been before she even stepped out of base.

A shiver went down her spine. She had... died?

The BLU Scout ran in, and Tracy immediately jumped backwards, shotgun at the ready. The Scout raised his eyebrows, and then a look of understanding went across his face.

"Ooooh, Spy right?" He appeared irritated, "Yeah, he disguises as people. Ya need to watch out for him. But don't worry, teams are prohibited from entering enemy spawns. Somethin' about Geneva convention or somethin'." He shrugged, going over to the medical cabinet to grab a fistful of pills and shove them down his throat. He was mumbling something about a "damn spook" and his mom.

Tracy was concerned for a moment about taking an excessive amount of medicine but realized the Scout would indeed do something like that, and relaxed.

She suddenly perked up. "Wait... where's the intelligence?"

The Scout turned back to her, gulping down a bottle of water. "Oh, I passed it to the Soldier."

Just as they were about to step outside, the intercom was activated. "We have captured the intelligence!"

There was a sudden rush of all classes converging on the resupply, whooping and holler. The Demoman grabbed her shoulder and shook her around while a few others gave her a congratulations.

"Little man is credit to team!"

"Excellent work."

"Nice job."

Tracy stood wide eyed and frozen, confused by their praise. "Uh, what's going on?"

"What's goin' on?!" Demoman guffawed, "Lad, you helped us win! You and Medic!" The Scotsman grabbed the Medic by the side and pulled him into the circle. The Medic didn't seem enthusiastic about the force, but was happy all the same to win.

"Oh!" Her eyes went wide, and she smiled. "Well, I woulda completely failed if it hadn't been for Medic."

"Danke." The German doctor smiled, brushing the Demoman aside to rest a hand on her shoulder. "I told you it would be fine, see?"

Tracy rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah."


In all respects, Tracy had to be the luckiest woman alive.

Meaning, she was very lucky to not have seen anything worse on the battlefield. For the most part, she hadn't seen anything quite horrific enough to damage her psyche. Sure, the Medic's corpse lying face first in a pool of his own blood was horrifying, but witnessing the aftermath was worse.

It had been a mistake. All she had wanted to do is step out and get a fresh breath of air. She immediately regretted it. What she was greeted by was the scent of iron, blood splattered everywhere. She could make out the corpses of REDs and BLUs alike, body parts ripped and torn, organs lying here and there. Corpses and little chunks of flesh floated in the water below the bridge.

It took all over her will power to not vomit right then and there. She turned and quickly went down, past the intelligence room, and into the kitchen.

Indeed, she was quite fortunate to not have witnessed what had happened to kill these men first hand.

In the kitchen, the Pyro was busy at the oven. The smell of steak smelt delicious, but didn't help her nausea at all. The rest of the team was crowded around the table, even the Sniper and Engineer.

She didn't speak, taking a seat beside the Engineer and Medic as food was passed around. Tracy really didn't feel like eating aftering seeing what she had just saw.

"Put some damn meat on your plate, private!" The Soldier barked from across the table, lifting his helmet just a tad to make eye contact with her. Afraid of his wrath considering he had gotten over the heatstroke incident, she dutifully put an adequate size steak on her plate and began to pick at it.

The Demoman beside him was already drinking again, if he hadn't been on the battlefield (which was honestly pretty likely) and began drunkenly saying he'd kiss her if he wasn't the man he was. She blushed and turned away, stuffing a piece of steak in her mouth and piled some mashed potatoes on her plate, somewhat disappointed that she couldn't reveal her true identity.

All of a sudden, it occurred to Tracy that she never asked how the respawn worked. Or how the opposing team looked exactly like her own. She turned to look at the Engineer.

"Hey, if ya don't mind me asking..." She paused to sip a glass of iced tea. "How does the respawn actually work?"

"Errr..." He hesitated, fork poised at his mouth with a good amount of mashed potatoes. He swallowed it before answering. "Can't tell ya that. Adminstrator needs some things to be private, ya know?"

"Oh! Well... could I ask why the opposite team looks exactly like you guys?"

The entire table paused what they were doing. Those who had been bringing glasses to their mouth stopped in their tracks, silverware was dropped, and even the Pyro was frozen at the stove with his hand poised to flip a steak.

Tracy at once felt all eyes on her, and shrunk down into her seat. It seemed only the Spy was unaffected, but didn't seem any happier by the mention of it.

"I should expect Miss Pauling to contact you about that, since you weren't a failure on the battlefield." He elegantly held his fork and knife in both hands, cutting his steak into bite sized pieces. "But in all honesty, you may not be happy by what you learn. Most do not like to speak of it."

"Oh." She was disheartened, mortified that she had asked that.

For the rest of the dinner, most were quiet or spoke softly to one another. None spoke directly to Tracy, but threw glances her way. The Spy seemed the calmest, understanding even, that she hadn't known it was such a taboo topic.

He even walked her back to her room.

"Do not worry about it." He said, fishing out a cigarette from his inner jacket pocket, "The Scout had asked a similar question. They will forget soon enough, and forgive you before even that."

"Thank you." She nodded, giving him a grateful smile while brushing her hair out of the way.

He noticed this, "You should probably get your hair trimmed. I have no doubt Mr. Doe will eventually notice despite his sight being incredibly limited, and threaten to 'buzz' it off."

Tracy was flabbergasted, but knew he was right. That was exactly what the Soldier would do, wouldn't he? She nodded her head in thanks before walking to her room.

It was only a couple hours later that someone was knocking at her door. She sighed, having just gotten ready for bed and hoped it wasn't too important.

To her surprise, it wasn't a member of her team but Miss Pauling at her doorstep.

"Richardson. Good to see you're fitting in nicely so soon." She smiled, and gestured to her. "You don't need to change, just grab your shoes and follow me."

"What's this all about?" Tracy asked as she grabbed her shoes from the closet, sitting down on her bed as she slipped them on.

"Well, I'm sure you have noticed the opposing team looks exactly like your own." Pauling replied as Tracy nodded, locking the door and following the other woman. "Since you've passed the initiation and didn't do horrifically, you're ready."

"Ready for what exactly?"

Miss Pauling didn't reply, leading her down corridors and stairs that Tracy hadn't noticed beforehand. It was deathly quiet, just the sound of their footsteps echoing as they descended.

They inevitably stumbled across a door, which Miss Pauling took out a huge ring of keys with multiple colors. She selected a blue key and unlocked the door, ushering Tracy in.

It was huge, occupied by what looked like a generator at the bottom. They were elevated on a platform high above the floor, with dark containers at either side. Tracy stepped closer to one of them, squinting and peering in. What she saw shocked her.

It was... her. The clone's eyes were shut, their face relaxed. It was floating in some sort of liquid, suspended in the middle. From what she could see, there were no tubes or wires supporting her.

"What the hell...?" Tracy stumbled back, bumping into the handrail. Miss Pauling wasn't affected by her reaction, walking past her to a console at the very center of the room. Tracy stumbled after, passing by tubes filled with her teammates.

"This is the respawn, and how you all come back from the dead." She gestured, "This is also the reason why RED looks exactly alike."

"They're clones?" The Thief's eyes were wide, bringing a hand to her chest. It felt as if the room was spinning.

"Well, technically you all are. When you died on the battlefield today, you're officially a clone." Miss Pauling replied nonchalantly, pressing a button on the console. An empty tube raised from the machine, alongside a syringe.

"I was able to take a small blood sample from you before I brought you here, but it was only enough for one or two clones to allow you to respawn. I would have taken more, but you had ketamine flowing through your veins at that point." The woman in violet took the syringe in one hand, gesturing for Tracy to come closer. "And since you did so well, the Adminstrator has approved a permanent respawn for you."

"Are you actually saying that if I had died more than once, I would be permanently dead?" She felt sweat go down her brow, unaware as Pauling took her arm and swiftly poked the needle of the syringe in. Normally she would have shied away from needles, but she was too far in shock to notice.

"Probably, unless we found your body soon enough and got enough blood. And if the Adminstrator approved of it." Miss Pauling pulled back the plunger and took the needle from her arm. "This should be enough for the system to syphon off of the clones rather than constantly ask you to come in for blood donation."

Miss Pauling took the syringe and injected the fluid into the clear tube and once again pressed a button. The tube closed and retreated back inside the console and began whirring loudly. From behind her, she could hear the sound of something dunking into water. Turning around, she witnessed more clones fall into tanks.

"So this is why no one wanted to talk about it." Thief frowned, pressing a hand to the glass tube. A thought materialized in her mind, "What if one of them breaks lose?"

"That won't happen. The device the Medic has in those hearts alerts the respawn when you die to release another one of you. As long as you're still alive, any clones that happen to even fall out of their containment will be nothing but a lifeless corpse." Miss Pauling seemed satisfied and began walking back to the door. She paused for a moment, turning her head back. "Well, that is if you aren't dead. Then you might wake up falling into the generator."

"Does that mean... there will be another one of ME on the battlefield?"

"Oh, of course. We can't have one side having an extra man. That would make it unbalanced." She opened the door and held it for Tracy.

"Isn't that the entire point of war?" Tracy cocked a brow.

"Well, maybe, but it's not beneficial to Helen." Miss Pauling froze for a moment, "Ah, that's the Administrator. She probably won't be happy you know her name, but you're bound to eventually hear of it."

Tracy took note of that, filing it away for further questioning. She decided not to ask now, since she had so much more to digest. Clones. She was a clone, right now. The person that had died from that backstab? That was her, the original Tracy Richardson, who was now dead forever.

While Tracy was having her identity crisis, Miss Pauling lead her back up to her room and bid her good night.

"I know it's a lot to think about. If it helps, I'd go to the Medic and ask for some sleep aid. You shouldn't have a match tomorrow, if memory serves." Pauling adjusted her glasses, giving the Thief a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Try to sleep, Thief."

And with that, Tracy was left sitting in her room.

For awhile, she just sat there and took in everything that had just happened. Below her, at that very moment, were exact replicas being born into tubes. Lifeless, conscious-less bodies until the moment that this clone body she was inhabiting died. She took her head in her hands, breathing deeply.

Her room suddenly felt stifling, like she couldn't breath. She burst out, running up to the kitchen.

It was late at night, only one person in the kitchen. The Demoman was drunk, but not terrible so and was taking a bottle of alcohol from the fridge. He looked back at her, noticing her grim and haunted expression. She didn't say a word as she marched right up to him, snatching the bottle from his hand and taking a gulp without hesitation.

"Woah! Watch it lad, that's ninety proof." He didn't stop her though as she took another swig, wincing at the awful flavor on her tongue.

"I have no idea how you drink this shit." She shoved the bottle back into his hands and dove into the fridge looking for something more palitable.

"Years and years of drinking," He took a longer drink than her, smacking his lips audibly. "Now, mind tellin' me why in the bloody hell you'd be so desperate to take a drink of my scrumpy?"

She found herself a can of soda and popped it, taking a drink before turning back to him. She could already feel the alcohol hitting her, and stumbled to take a seat at the couch. The lights were off, only the glow of the television lighting her way.

"Clones." She muttered, and the Scotsman immediately understood.

"Aye, nasty business that." He nodded, taking a seat beside her and taking another gulp. "Never get comfortable with it. Always on me mind when ah get sent back here."

"And- and the REDs. One of them will be me." She was definitely tipsy, "Will it have my memories? Will they even know they're a clone?"

She hiccuped, setting her can on the floor and motioned to take another drink from his bottle. He shrugged and offered her it, and she accepted gratefully. This time she just sipped, remembering the last time she got piss drunk, and handed it back.

"Now I see why ya drink." She giggled, a despondent resonance in her voice. "I honestly don't think I can handle it."

"Ya will, don't worry." He patted her on the back as she began to slump and lean on his shoulder. "Bein' drunk is just what ah do, although that thought in the back of me head don't do much good for it."

Tracy was hardly listening at this point, the flashing lights of the television entrancing her. Soon enough she was slipping, falling into a deep sleep.


TBC!