The TF2 characters are in this chapter, don't worry. It's a lot less slower than the last chapter, I think.

I forgot my disclaimer last time, so here it is.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Team Fortress 2 or any of it's characters. However, I do own Marigold and her family/friends. All other characters belong to Valve.

I can remember the last thing I said to my father before he left clearly.

"I am going off to fulfill your dream, father," I said, holding a feeble hand with two string ones. He was on the sofa, staring at me with a weak smile. "I leave today."

"Son, you make me proud," he said, laughing. "Although I can't say that I'm entirely happy with you leaving me all alone here at home." He ran a hand through his hair, just as messy as it was when I was a child.

I shook my head. "You aren't all alone," I said. "You still have Sarah here."

I had an old friend's older sister help me with my father when I was about sixteen. She was a nurse and had no problem with coming over to help my father when he was at his lowest point. She helped him give up drinking and nursed him back to health. For that, I owed her a lot. She moved in with my father not too long after she started helping him to keep him alive and healthy.

"Haha, yes, but the house will still feel so empty without you, Roderick," My father sighed.

I was so used to being called Roderick that I forgot who I really was sometimes. I had never felt better as my brother. "I'm always leaving, though," I told him, finally letting go of his hand and taking a seat next to him on the dull brown sofa. "I'm a mercenary. I'm out of the house all the time."

My father sighed. "But this is different."

I shrugged. "It will be fine. I'll keep in touch, just don't worry about it. Besides, I've already talked to them and I know I'll be great. Just you wait and see, I'll come back the greatest war hero the world's ever known." I grinned at him and rose off of the sofa, brushing myself down. "I am not going to disappear off of the planet. I'll call."

My father nodded. "Have I mentioned how proud I am of you?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, you have." I brushed down my black shirt and walked out of the room. I headed off to my bedroom, shut and locked the door, and say on my bed. In that room was my only place to think about who I really was. I was not Roderick Shay. I was Marigold Shay. Even thought living as Roderick made my life one hundred times better, I knew who I really was on the inside. Sometimes I told myself I was both of us. I was not sure if it was true or not. I was Roderick on the outside, but Marigold on the inside.

I still had so much to prove. But the chance was right in front of me, it was my time to really shine. My eyes glinted with determination and I balled my hands into fists against my blue blanket neatly resting atop of my bed. I could not wait until I was out of the house and onto the battlefield. I had been practicing for this for over twenty years. I was thirty-four when I was joining the war. Until then, I had been a mercenary. My obsession with proving to my father what I could be took over any fears or hesitation I had when it came to killing. All I could see in my enemies was opportunity, and I was glad. I didn't need a petty fear getting in my way.

I stood up and looked into the mirror. When I was a young girl, I would have been horrified at the thought of killing another person. How would I have reacted if I could have seen what I had become? I brushed the thought away, it was stupid. Nothing was going to stop me now. Not my past fears, not my current ones. Not anything. I walked away from the mirror, heading towards my door.

When I walked out, I was walking into a new part of my life.

The one where I officially started the mission I had been training for all my life.

Something about that Administrator woman set me off. I don't know if it was her cold stare or her hostility. Either way, I did not trust her. Her assistant, on the other hand, seemed alright enough. Her name was Miss Pauling, she seemed a little nervous around the Administrator, but she was kind. Although I still did not trust her. I did not trust anyone around there, my job as a mercenary taught me more than enough times that was a potentially fatal mistake. I was not even going to trust my own teammates. Why would I? They could easily turn on me and use my trust against me; I was here for one reason only and I would let nothing stop me.

I received my clothes and changed in private. I did not want anyone to have suspicions of my sex, and the clothes they gave me made it even harder to tell which I was. I was put on the RED Team, the team that would battle the BLU Team. I was given the clothes of the Soldier class, one which had two sashes that crossed across my body bearing grenades. I loosened them a little to hide my form better. The bottom of the uniform was a little shredded, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. The belt that came with the uniform made me nervous, so I loosened that a bit as well. The helmet was a little beat up, but it was just a few scratches, really. I put it on my head, and to my pleasure, it completely covered my hair. The helmet's straps were damaged; the one on the right was torn. The helmet seemed great at first, but now as I stared into the mirror, it made me uneasy. My eyes stood out too much with this uniform. I looked around for something that could possibly help, but I found nothing. I wished the helmet was bigger, that way it could just cover my eyes and make things a lot simpler. Instead, I was glaring into the mirror, staring at my own girlish eyes with frustration. That didn't last for long, I couldn't be wasting time. I looked to one of my sleeves and ripped some of the fabric off, and tied it over my eyes. I was lucky. I could see through the fabric, but it did not work quite the same way the other way around. I made sure to tie it with the best knot I could use and then walked out of the room, the cloth hiding the determination glinting in my eyes.

"You know, you aren't the first of this class to have been here," Miss Pauling told me, hugging a clipboard to her chest.

I looked at her, but she could not see just how uninterested I was without looking into my eyes, but in a way, I liked that. Now people would have trouble knowing how I felt, I could keep myself more mysterious and difficult. The less they knew, the better. "What made him leave?" I asked.

"He was sent to a war elsewhere," Miss Pauling said. "Ah, we're almost there."

I looked forward to the buildings ahead. I figured it was safe to assume the red one held my team inside.

"Today is a ceasefire," Miss Pauling continued. "So you won't have to worry about fighting right away. It will give you time to adjust to your new teammates."

Fair enough, I thought. That was the first time that ever happened to me. Usually, I just straight to the fighting, and I had grown used to it. Meeting my team first wasn't a bad idea, either; all I had to do was make sure to not give anything away.

The bases were in Tuefort, a place I would have to start calling my home. It was big enough, and it was split down the middle with a small body of water. From what I could see, there were sewer pipes down there underwater that could possibly lead to different rooms. Above the water was a roofed bridge that could take one from one side to the other, but it looked like it would be a difficult journey. They could easily be shot. I didn't get the chance to observe for long, Miss Pauling was already calling me to get a move on it. As I walked, I continued to look around. There were balcony-like areas on each base; both buildings seemed to be made out of different materials. RED base seemed to be made out of wood. I was nearly at the door when Miss Pauling stopped and sent me a smile. "Are you ready to meet the team, Mister Shay?"

I nodded. "Let's go."

"So, you're the new Soldier, huh?" The boy asked, looking me up and down. He had a Boston accent and he was obviously younger than the other seven mercenaries staring at me, it was even clearer with the clothes he was wearing. A red T-Shirt, dark pants, black running shoes with white stripes coming up from the side. He had a black baseball cap over his head and a black bag on, one strap keeping it on. He had an orange earpiece on the right side and wore dogtags around his neck. It reflected his youth, but it also had a lot more simple look as well . We were all in a sort of living room-esque area, some of them sitting on the sofa, some standing. The boy stood up straight and said, "I'm the Scout." He grinned at me, a bat thrown over his shoulder. "Somebody you better look out for, rookie." Pushing his bat against my helmet, he chuckled a bit.

I could already tell I was not going to get along with him. "I would move that away from me unless you like having a bat snapped off in your ass, son." I spat. Son. It seemed that I had taken a little habit from my father; he was always calling just about everyone "son".

"I guess I wouldn't be the only one with a stick up my ass," Scout muttered, moving his bat away and walking back over to the sofa.

The other mercenaries had similar reactions to my hostility. Just about none.

"I'm the Engineer," a man said to me with a friendlier smile to compliment his Texan drawl. It was easier to tell what he was, he looked like nothing but an engineer. Red shirt under overalls, a yellow helmet over his head. Goggles hid his eyes and there was a tool belt around his waist equipped with all kinds of tools and, for reasons unknown, a teddy bear. "This person here is the Pyro." The Engineer put a hand out to the suited-up person beside him.

They were in a very baggy red fire-retardant suit. It was impossible to tell what sex they were, a mask hid their face and not even an inch of skin showed from behind their clothing. They waved a gloved hand at me. "Hmmph huddah," they said, their body language making them look almost cheerful.

"I am Heavy Weapons Guy," a big man sitting on the sofa said to me. His accent was Russian, and was wearing a large sash coming across his body from the left side covered in ammo. "Don't touch my gun."

"Yeah," Scout barged in, "Big guy gets a little hungry when people touch his gun."

Heavy sent Scout a look, but the boy ignored him.

A masked man in a suit standing beside the sofa with an unlit cigarette between his fingers decided to introduce himself next. "I am ze Spy," he said, and left it at that. His accent was French, and he seemed uninterested in the introduction.

"Ja, and I am ze Medic," a German man said from the other side of the sofa. He was smiling slightly, pushing up his glasses onto his nose. Something about him was a little creepy, but I was sre it was his smile.

"I'm the Demoman," a dark-skinned Scottish added. He was holding a bottle of alcohol and was leaning back in the sofa. "A black Scottish Cyclops." He was, in fact, missing an eye. A black eye-patch covered the area where his right eye should have been and a cap covered his head.

The only persona left was a long-legged man sitting on the sofa, polishing a sniper rifle. He was wearing aviators and a hat over his head; his eyes looking down in the weapon in his hands rather than up at me. "Oi'm the Sniper," he introduced, and, like most of the others, he left it at that. He was Australian.

"So, now you've all met," Miss Pauling said from a far corner, what looked like a nervous smile on her face. "I have to get back to-"

"Why don't you stick around?" Scout interrupted, walking up to the woman and attempting to put an am around her casually.

Miss Pauling slipped away and laughed a bit. "No, I'm sorry, Scout. I can't stay, I have a job to do. Just be sure to show your new teammate to his room." She looked to me, her smile only getting more nervous. "Goodbye."

She left rather quickly. I was not entirely sure why; the team seemed alright so far. Sure, suspicious as hell, but they didn't seem insane.

"Follow me, I'll show ya to your room," Engineer said, walking towards a door.

I didn't hesitate to follow him and we both left the room. He took me down a hall and we got there rather quickly. There were four doors on the left side, three on the right. I counted them as we walked. One, two on the left, one on the right. I would be taking the second door on the right.

"Right here," Engineer said, stopping at the door. "It shouldn't be bad, the Miss Pauling woman came in before you arrived to come straighten it out a bit." Engineer didn't stick around. As soon as he showed me to my room, he walked away and left me alone.

I didn't have a problem with that. My hands closed around the door and I twisted the cold knob, pushing it open and stepped inside. The room was much too dark to see anything. My hand brushed the walls looking for a switch, and eventually, I found one. I flicked the switch and the lights came on, illuminating the once dark room in an instant.

There was a window on the wall farthest from me with a dresser below it. My bed was pushed p against the right wall and there was a closet built next to it. It was painted a dull red, and that was just about it. It was very empty. I walked inside and shut the door behind me, walking over to my bed. I sat down on the mattress, which was a lot harder than I was expecting. The second time my eyes scanned the room, I realized there was no mirror.

Dammit, I thought, biting my lip slightly. Mirrors had been my best friend for nineteen years, ever since I took the place of my brother. I could look into them and see which person I saw staring back at me. If it was Roderick, everything was fine. If it was Marigold, everything was wrong. Without my mirror there to keep me safe, I was going to have trouble. Maybe I can wake up early and get to the bathroom, I thought. They're sure to have a mirror there. I nodded to myself and stood up, pushing off of the uncomfortable bed and heading to the door. Again, my hands closed over the knob's coldness and I pulled it open.

I didn't have trouble finding the bathroom. Unlike the rooms, there was an insignia beside the door that clearly stated what it was. It only took a quick look to ensure myself that there was in fact a mirror on the wall over the sink. I nodded to myself once more and walked back to the living room. Now I was safe, I could keep myself locked up in my brother's life. My mission was finally starting. All I had to do was show my greatness and try my hardest and everything would fall into place. I could finally show my father. Sure, there would be a few obstacles in the way, but nothing I could not get by.

"Done making yourself at home?" Medic asked me, beginning to walk in my direction.

"Yes," I replied. "Why?"

"Come viz me to my office, ve need to get your blood type." He walked by me and began to lead me to a new door.

My blood ran cold. "Wh… What?" My mouth went dry, and I followed him with hesitation. No. This was bad, very bad. I could not let him take my blood. If I did, he could easily look into my DNA and see that I was not a male. "Can't you just look into my file?" I choked.

He shook his head and didn't stop walking. "Nein. "

My fear elevated. I was terrified. This man was threatening my entire life mission. My hands shook, but I continued to walk in silence, my eyes glued to the floor by Medic's feet as we walked. Before I knew it, or, before I could make a plan, we reached Medic's office. He walked inside, but I paused at the door.

Medic turned to look at me with a raised eyebrow. "Vhat, are you scared of a teeny needle?" he asked. "Don't be such a baby. Come."

I swallowed dryly, glad that the cloth over my face hid the terror in my eyes. I walked into the office, my hands in fists so tight that they were turning white. I scanned the room quickly, and it automatically made me so much more nervous. There was blood everywhere, splattered on the floor and on seats, on tables and on walls. There was even blood on the ceiling. There was a machine and a fridge near a large seat next to him. The machine had a switch and a tube pointed at the seat, and that just made my nervousness worse.

Medic took the proper tools from a small metal table. "Sit down," he said, gesturing to a seat beside him.

Hesitantly, I shuffled over to it. There was nothing I could do now except be difficult. "I don't like needles," I said.

"It vill be over quickly," He said. "Sit down."

I was about to argue when he shoved me down and strapped me to the seat. "Do not vorry. I am not going to kill you." He sent me a bone chilling grin and flicked the switch on the machine in front of the seat, sending waves of red mist showering down on me.