Here we go with chapter two. In this chapter we get to meet the other members of our team that's going to be in the games, as well as learn some back stories from some other characters. The events themselves won't actually start for a bit, but when they do you'll see some familiar scenes and other things I can come up with for the games.
I hope you're enjoying the story so far, and feel free to leave a review. Again, characters are subject to change, but this story is a lot darker than general TF2. As well as sane characters are just in general easier to work with. I'm also changing some family relations obviously for this story.
Chapter Two: Challenge Accepted
Jack hadn't slept at all as he had watched the landscape change around him outside of the car. As long as he sat quietly in the back while they changed drivers and only went where they told him and when then he was left completely alone and with his own thoughts. It had been two days, and they were, as far as he could tell, somewhere in a desert. Obviously they were still somewhere in the United States, or else he would have had to get on a plane.
As he watched an enormous building with a wall around it, a train station coming out of it, and the RED and BLU Team insignias on the outside of it loomed into view. The RED Team's insignia was a red circle with cursive writing of the word RED in it. BLU Team's was a blue box with a wrench and blocked letters "BLU". Seeing it only increased his anxiety.
Jack noticed eight other black cars just like the one he was in were parked out front, and an enormous security detail was watching this one pull past carefully. The car was stopped by a wall of huge men with guns, and the driver rolled the window down as a mean faced man peered down into the car at him, and then at Jack.
"I've got the last one here," the driver said. "Jack Barreau."
Jack said nothing as he saw the man scan down the list of names for his. So this year there was a team of nine? He couldn't help but hope that he was the youngest, and that there was some chance that they could work together. Jack wouldn't last long otherwise. The okay was given and the driver now pulled up to park in the front with the other cars.
Jack had a plan, but a tentative one. He wasn't going to know any of these people here or how they were going to react to one another, but he had to try to get them working together. They weren't monitored during the hours that they weren't being broadcast, giving them some room to actually talk and be themselves. He was hoping he could convince them to work together, or else at least five of them would be dead by end of the first task.
The last game had been a year ago, and there had been a full team of forty people. About twenty different classes already existed, and sometimes they added new ones since they classed people according to what they were good at. Some of those weren't good classes, known only as "Bait" or "diversion". Outside they were simply known as "dead meat". Jack couldn't help but be nervous, wondering what kind of class he could possibly fit in.
By the end of that first match though only ten people had remained alive. There were only four matches in that game, consisting of dire wolves in blizzard conditions, a maze inspired by an Egyptian Tomb, a challenge where they had to escape before the maze they were in was filled completely with water, and then trying to fight of a collection of different monsters in a desert. The thought of the twisted games they could play, "classic" or otherwise, terrified him.
The car at last pulled to a stop and Jack felt his heartbeat threatening to quicken. He forced himself to calm down though. There was at least a few days while they prepped for the first event and began televising them before the actual match started. This did little to calm him though. The unknown waiting was already gnawing at him.
The door was opened by several men with guns, glaring at him and giving him a look that clearly told him that they were going to fill him with lead if he tried to run away. Jack didn't try to do it. It was a lot more than his life was worth, and he wasn't going to give up now just because he was now at the front gates.
They flanked him and escorted him inside, past mostly deserted hallways and long corridors. They didn't pause and didn't change directions though as they continued to make their way through the hallway and finally into a section that had red stripes running down the bottom of the walls. They stopped at a set of huge blast doors, which they motioned opened.
With the grinding of gears the doors began to open and Jack was shoved inside. Once the door closed he paused and looked around the simple room. This was the only entrance, and the only exit they'd ever take if they won. He could hear raised voices as he drew closer, which was already not a good sign. The sight that greeted him when he rounded the corner gave him no confidence.
He was indeed the youngest there, and the oldest couldn't be older than about forty. At least the team wasn't too young or too old. A quick glance around the room revealed that there were no girls at all, which was kind of a relief to him. He had never been able to watch one of the female participants dying. It was like watching his mom die.
There was a rather disciplined looking man standing to the side, in his mid thirties or so. He was tall and pale, with blue eyes with black glasses that had fallen down the bridge of his nose. He had dark black hair that was well cut and was massaging his temples as if he had a migraine. He continued to mutter to himself German, or at least Jack thought it was.
Next to him was a huge brute of a man that was by far one of the tallest and large. He was bald with a slight beard growing in, and huge blue eyes. He was rather pale and didn't exactly look like the brightest person Jack had ever seen. But he'd certainly never want to make him mad and have him grab him.
Across the room and yelling at someone else was another man. He had slightly tanned skin and dark cobalt colored eyes. He seemed incapable of taking a helmet off his head, which made Jack wonder if he even had hair under there. He also had a slight beard coming in and was well muscled in his chest and torso.
The man he was yelling at was the only dark skinned man in the whole room, making him stick out like a sore thumb. He had a bottle of something in his hand and was yelling in a thick, but slurred Scottish accent. He had black hair under his hat and an eye patch on his left eye. His eyes were a dark brown color and he seemed to be completely drunk. Great. Because things weren't already bad and confusing enough.
Across the room was another argument. One of the men in this argument was about average height and tanner than others in the room. He had dark brown hair under a brown hat that seemed to have teeth of some kind circling it, as well as dark brown eyes. He wore a pair of dark brown glasses and had a clean shaved face. His accent was clearly Australian.
The man he was arguing with was tall and thin, and most of his body was covered in a suit and gloves. A tight ski mask seemed to cover the rest of his face, alerting Jack immediately to the fact that he was the "Spy". It was always part of the games to figure out who the Spy was if there was one, and to unmask him. He was pale, had dark blue eyes and a bit of a beard and mustache. He was also smoking at the moment and spoke with a heavy French accent.
There was another man in the farthest corner who didn't seem to want to get involved at all. He was wearing dark goggles and a hard hat, making it impossible to see his eyes and making Jack realize he was probably bald. He had a rugged jawline and a bit of a beard, and he was kind of short and squat. He didn't look impressed with anything going on.
The last man was closest to the door and staring at Jack as if his worst nightmare had just come true. He probably hadn't wanted to see a kid as young as him here, and he was the only one to have noticed his entrance. He was about average height and had dark brown hair and blue eyes, which seemed to be the norm in this group. The left half of his face seemed to have a horrible burn on it, and Jack found himself unsure how to approach him.
Looking at all of them, Jack realized he was pretty much screwed. Most of these men were at least large enough to stand their own, and many were obviously professionals in whatever it was that they really did. Jack on the other hand was a kid from New York who was good at running. What the heck was he supposed to do on the battlefield, and what kind of help could he be in a team like this? He felt very much out of place.
Slowly Jack stepped into the room, just looking around silently and nervously. So this was his team? It looked like they already didn't get along at all. It didn't look like he was going to be able to really survive at this rate. Several heads came up though as he made his way slowly inside, until he was suddenly uncomfortably aware that everything was silent and they were looking at him. Several jaws dropped.
"What is tiny baby man doing here?" the huge man in the corner asked in a thick Russian accent.
"Wha?" Jack managed in confusion at the term.
"Oh don't mind him," the man nearest him with glasses said in an unmistakable German accent. "He cannot speak English vell. So, are you zhe last?"
"Yeah," Jack managed.
"A team of nine?" the man with the hard hat on in the back asked in an accent from the southern United States. "Smallest it's been in a while."
"He's jus' a kid," the Australian in the back groaned.
"It would not be zhe games if zhere was not one," the Frenchman agreed. Jack glanced back at him and noticed him quickly advert his gaze.
"I'm sixteen," Jack sighed.
"Doesn't matter," the man who'd been arguing with the drunk earlier said with a frown and in a voice that Jack associated with a drill sergeant. "You're still a kid, boy. I don't like this one bit."
Jack felt an arm wrap around his shoulders suddenly and stumbled under the weight of someone who practically fell on him. He blinked but didn't have long to wonder who as he heard the sound of the slap of liquid against a bottle. He turned to see the Scotchman leaning on him and grinning. He looked and sounded drunk, and the smell of alcohol on his breath almost made Jack gag. But there was something in his one remaining eyeball that was strangely cunning as well. It unnerved Jack just a little bit as the man looked at them all.
"Ah," he said. "let the boy join. Ther' isn' much we can do abou' it now, can we? We're all stuck in her' until they let us out." There was a silence of agreement, and the Scotchman grinned and shoved his bottle towards Jack. "Her', drink up, boy!"
This seemed to make the man who had been arguing with the Scotchman earlier grow angry. He shoved him off of Jack, which made the boy drop to the floor. The man with the burn finally seemed to stand and made his way over, helping him back up onto his feet. They both paused and looked over at the two. The soldier had the drunk man's shirt in his hands, but the Scotchman just seemed to laugh at him, which made the man angrier.
"Oh you think that's funny huh?" he snapped. "I'll show you how funny I can be, maggot!"
"They've been at it for hours," the man who'd helped Jack up said, shaking his head. "I understand it's the games but they could at least act like they care somewhat."
Jack felt himself just getting angry as he looked around the room. They called him a kid, but here they all were arguing like a bunch of children. And apparently it was just because they didn't like each other for rather petty reasons. Well they couldn't exactly afford not to get along now. If they did then they'd all might as well lie down and die during the first task. They wouldn't get far without it. He crossed his arms and glared up at them all.
"WILL YA ALL JUST SHUT UP?" he yelled over the din.
They all jumped and turned to find the source of the noise, surprised such a sound had come from the rather tiny looking boy standing there. Jack was aware that he suddenly had everyone's undivided attention but he didn't care. Jack had never been one to just hide in the background. He'd always been up in people's faces, and right now if he was going to get anything across to these people. They all just looked at him silently, a few raising eyebrows at him.
"Listen," he sighed. "We're all stuck here together, whether ya like it or not. So if we're gonna survive we're gonna have to work together and use whatever we do have. We all gotta have some reason for goin' home. And even if ya think ya don't, then look at it this way. This is your chance ta prove dey can't control us. Dat we aren't pawns in some game."
No one seemed to move in the room, and all of the men were now looking at him closely. For the first time in many years he felt kind of self conscious. This wasn't exactly a good first impression, and he knew that many of them probably weren't really listening, but just trying to humor him by making him think they were. No one ever listened to him.
"Well," he said with sigh. "I guess we're just going to have to accept that and move on. My name's Jack Barreau. I'm from Boston, New York. I lived with my mom and eight older brothers, though really they were my half brothers."
Jack went quiet and looked around the room. Everyone else seemed to glance around at one another, as if wondering who would be the first to introduce themselves next. No one seemed willing to, but as Jack looked around the room again he noticed the Frenchman was looking at him for a while, seeming to be thinking.
"Very well," he said, making everyone look up in surprise. "My name is Leander, zough my last name I will not give now. I worked as a spy in France. I have a son you know, about zhe same age as you Jack. I have not seen him in years."
Jack looked up and met Leander's eyes, trying to figure out why he kept looking at him that way. He supposed it could be because of his son. It still made him slightly uneasy, though he finally turned his gaze away. The German man stood now and gave them all a pleasant smile.
"My name is Ludwig Schwarz," he said. "I vorked as a doctor for many years in Germany. I have family, but my vife had divorced me some time ago and taken zhe kids vith her. Not zhat I can blame her. I vas not making much money. Zhat and I did enjoy experimental medicine."
Everyone was kind of quiet now. So he was going to be their Medic? It was pretty obvious with that skill set. It didn't mean though that they were happy about the fact that he liked to experiment. They'd had those kinds before, and a lot of times their results weren't pretty. However unlike those he seemed far more sane. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad?
"Name is Maksim Navikov," the huge brute beside the doctor said. "I lived in Russia and killed bears to help family. Have wife and two girls."
Everyone just nodded to him, not entirely sure which class he would fit into then. Ludwig leaned over and patted the man's shoulder, smiling and promising to help him with his English. Maksim just nodded. The man in the hard hat stood then and waved at everyone.
"The name's Deil Conaghar," he greeted. "I used to live down in Texas and had a Ranch. Much preferred to work with machines though, so I started buildin' and went to college."
An Engineer then. That one was also obvious. There were always some that seemed that way didn't they? People were selected for the categories they would fall into, or for something else that gained the attention of those who ran the games. With his greeting done Deil returned to his seat and it was the Australian who spoke next.
"All righ' mate," he sighed. "The name's Mun-Dee. I live' on a Ranch in Australia with my mom and dad. Moved ou' a few years ago to pursue a differen' career. Dad never really liked it much."
Another they would have a hard time placing. A different career could mean quite a lot of things. It seemed like something either dangerous or possibly controversial though. Why would his dad not like what he did? The man with the burned face shifted and then spoke next.
"My name is Henry Smith," he said. "I don't generally show my face to people. Well, I've always been one to work with fire, and I used to be in a factory working with it. During an accident I burned my face trying to help some co-workers. I have a daughter but I haven't seen her in years. She was too scared of my face. She'd be about twelve now."
That was one they had no idea about. As far as any of them knew, there was no class at all that worked with fire. A new class then? It wasn't unheard of, but it did seem kind of odd. They didn't like to televise people with such obvious marks, so were they going to cover his face? Showing gruesome deaths was fine, but heaven forbid if they didn't look perfect doing so.
"Well lads," the Scotchman suddenly cried. "My name is Travish McGroot. I like ta work with explosives. Potassium Chloride is a favorit' of mine. Sittin' and makin' things blow up is mah job."
"While you're drunk?" the last man growled.
"I work betta' when I'm drunk," the man replied.
"In zhat case," Leander said. "We must make sure you are drunk. I believe it is your turn, mon ami."
That was another obvious one. He was a Demoman, which meant he'd be working to make things blow up for the team. Having a drunk one didn't exactly make Jack feel good about his chances of success in the games, but he knew he couldn't really complain at this point. Everyone turned to look at the last man, who seemed unhappy with the Demoman but had at least conceded that they needed his help too for now.
"The name's Zane Taylor, boys," he said. "I was an officer in the United States Military before all of this, so don't expect me to go soft on you. I will admit though that Jack did have a point, and if we're going to survive, we're going to have to work together, and with what we've got."
So a Soldier then, another quite obvious one. He also seemed like he was just going to step up and take charge again. Jack couldn't complain, and he doubted the others would either. Of all of them, he was probably the one with the most experience with "war", which is what they were supposedly in. He turned and seemed to eye them all.
"It's not much, boys," he admitted. "I won't lie and say that it is. But it's going to have to work. I've made do with worse, and we'll make do with this. Now it's time we start working on making sure we're all ready for it."
With that, he turned and grabbed Jack's shoulders, shoving him ahead of him towards a door that led off to the side. It was a training room and had several guns in it, all fake ones that shot rubber bullets so they couldn't commit suicide instead of playing the games. Other doors led to other areas of the base, including a cafeteria and bedrooms.
As Zane handed him a pistol and a sawed off shotgun however, apparently intent on training him, he wasn't sure if he should be grateful or terrified. On one hand, he'd actually have some idea how to fight, though they'd only have a few days and would have to hope he could teach him in that amount of time. On the other, Zane was kind of a drill sergeant.
Jack carefully stepped up to the wall of the shooting range, aiming the gun and holding it as he was told by Zane towards the paper with a person on it in front of him. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was going home, no matter what it took.
I'm aware that I made people have different families than they do normally, but I decided to make it more AU like in that regard and give some of the characters more back story because of it. Again, this is an AU, so it's not going to just follow canon.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and feel free to leave a review below and tell me what you think of the changes and how I'm doing now.