For the first time in ages, the team came together. They sat in their dusty meeting room, all sorts of chairs thrown together. A couple from the kitchen joined a couch with a broken foot, a folding chair with a rip in the back, and a stool from an old workbench. The Soldier, Heavy, and Engineer had taken the couch's seats. The Sniper was perched next to them, his legs draped between the Heavy and the Engineer. The Medic had taken the workbench's stool. When he was bored, he would kick the floor and spin the chair three-hundred and sixty degrees. The Scout was cross that he didn't get to have that seat. The Demoman slumped next to him in the torn folding chair, still trying to stomach that awful tequila. The Pyro, the Spy, and the Scout's mother had taken the last of the seats, leaving the meeting's leader to stand in front of a projection screen.

It wasn't a state-of-the-art war room, but it worked.

Miss Pauling cleared her throat. "Shall we begin?"

After a universal agreement, they went to work. The Spy flicked the lights off as Miss Pauling turned the projector on. There was a cough and a whirr as the machine spun to life. A flickering map of Mann's Lands appeared on screen. Miss Pauling reached for the almost dried up overhead markers. She made two circles—one in red, and one in blue.

She pointed to the tiny blue circle. "Here's where we are. As you can tell, we are in the northeastern part of our old territories. Unfortunately, this is the only area we have secured." She then tapped on the larger red circle. "The rest of this is all Gray's."

Taking the red one, she began to mark each and every base that was trapped in the circle. Thirty-some dots littered the landscape. "These are bases which Gray has taken over. Of course, we haven't investigated bases external to New Mexico, but given the robot traffic in Colorado—"

"Could you tell us how we're not totally screwed?" the Scout whined.

He was first answered by his mother shushing him from across the room. That brought a low level of chuckles out of the assembled mercenaries. After that cleared up, Miss Pauling smiled. "That is what we used to pay you all to decide. So, you tell me."

The Soldier leapt off the couch. If anyone was going to be the leader, it would be him, damned if the rest of the team liked it or not. He snatched Miss Pauling's markers, then began strutting around the meeting room. She took his seat as he began to boast. "Listen up, maggots! This is no time to act like worms. We have defeated Mann's forces on two separate occasions! The first assault on Miss Pauling's troop—a cowardly, treacherous act of violence—resulted in no fatalities. The second encounter—the attempted siege of Hydro—was thwarted by me, with the assistance of my fellow teammates. Once more, with no fatalities. Such battles are unprecedented! Ladies, gentlemen, this proves that we have the superior skills and wit to survive any offensive we wish to launch!"

"Gettin' a bit cocky, aren't you, lad?" the Demoman rejected the Soldier's statements. "Look—I was at both o' these fights. And yeah, we won all right. But every time we step into Gray's sites, we put ourselves at risk for a one-way trip straight to respawn!"

The Engineer nodded, backing the Demoman up. "Jane, he's right. Gray's got knowledge of our respawn systems and network. He can monitor us if we flip any of our bases on. I wouldn't put it past him to even be able to manipulate the system."

"How much control are we talking about?" the Soldier asked.

Raising his hands, the Engineer tried to calm his teammates down before dropping a bomb. "Look. I've got data backups buried all around this damn desert. Even if he cleared someone out of respawn, I can get us back, if livin's somethin' you wanna do. But he can change our data. He can make us come back wherever he wants, or time us out so we don't respawn for centuries. If we die, we are at his mercy. We can't mess up."

"Well, kick him outta dhere!" the Scout's mother demanded.

The Engineer shook his head. "It's not that simple. Frankly, he's locked all of us out. If we want him out, we've gotta get back in, then destroy his account." He lowered his head, then massaged his scalp. "I'll have to redo the security. Dammit, that'll take weeks."

"So we throw him someplace that'll take weeks for him to get out," the Sniper stated. "Suppose none of ya know of any active volcanoes?"

The Heavy grunted. "Put him in Siberia. The cold will slow him down."

The men were getting off topic again. Miss Pauling cleared her throat, then began managing her wandering cohorts. "So, it sounds like we need to do two things. One, we get back into the respawn system. Two, we get Gray out of the picture. After that point, it should be simple as cleaning up his machines." She folded her hands, then sank into the couch. "What are you forgetting?"

The nine mercenaries looked at each other. None of them were getting what she was insinuating. She sighed, then stood up. She took one of his markers, then held it out to the crowd. The Spy lifted his head, the answer snapping to him first. "Zhe other team. Where are zhey?"

"Shit, forgot about dhem!" the Scout hissed. "And what about dhat old crone?"

A common thought spread through the men. There had to be a reason Miss Pauling was so desperate to get them back. It was clear that the Scout's mom wanted her baby and her lover back, but Miss Pauling's reasons were less personal. There had been another team, and there had been a boss greater than all of them. With both missing, the men could assume no positive scenario for their disappearance.

Miss Pauling smoothed her skirt. She took a moment to compose herself. Her men had to know. "About a month ago, Helen gathered our remaining team and took off for Gray's primary headquarters."

"What? You mean, that big damn island?" the Soldier asked.

"Is stupid!" the Heavy roared. "Is only one road in and out. Surrounded by water. Necks like bottle. Easy targets!"

Miss Pauling nodded. "Most of them were taken out there. Some made it to the shore, but it was futile." She pinched her forehead, then rubbed the corners of her nose where her glasses sat. Fishing a list of coordinates out, she passed them to the Soldier. "They revived there but did not respond to my attempts to contact them. Eventually, the robots flooded our communications point, and Helen and I were separated."

The Soldier studied the coordinates. The points placed the other team between the coasts of Baja California and Mexico. The Soldier scratched his chin, struggling to remember what that place was called. "Ah, yes! Tiburón Island! Island of the shark! The perfect place for a dastardly snake to make his lair!"

"Stick with your first matters of business. However, I'd like you to keep an eye out for your former..." Miss Pauling struggled to find the right words. "Opposing associates. Additionally, watch for the Administrator."

The Medic shook his head. "Why? Zhat old alte Hexe, you could do better zhan her any—"

"Consider it a favor," Miss Pauling replied.

The team paused to digest the deluge of information. There were quite a few objectives piled onto the general task of destroying all robots in their path. Big, manly rescue was suited better for some teammates. Dainty espionage and assassinations were better for others. There were only nine of them to do all of these tasks. It was going to be difficult to split up their jobs without risking another mission.

The Spy began spear-heading the more delicate work. "It seems zhat we need a saboteur. Since zhat is my line of work, I suggest zhat I am paired with zhe Engineer to ensure his success in reclaiming control over respawn."

"Are you mad?" the Soldier huffed. "We need him on the frontlines to supply ammunition!"

"Why are you even considering a battle? You will blow our cover!" the Spy hissed.

The Demoman swirled his bottle in his right hand. "Might not be a bad idea. If I can rig up a big enough explosion, we'll catch security off guard 'n draw them our way. Meanwhile, you can go about your business with fewer machines in your path. I mean, he won't pull all his machines out 'o the main building, but we should be able to take a few."

"I am not good sneaky man," the Heavy confessed. "I fight. Medic? You are with me."

The Soldier bobbed his head. "I like that idea. We stage a dramatic battle while Frenchie cuts the lines!" He crossed his arms, then shook his head. "But we'll still need the Engineer's buildings to restock us! They're the fastest, strongest defense we have against those robots!"

The Scout blew a raspberry. "Please. If anyone's dhe fastest 'n strongest, it's me."

Crossing his legs at the ankles, the Sniper leaned forward. He closed his eyes, the pictures he had seen of Gray's corporate headquarters and largest base flashing in his memory. There were all kinds of silos and skyscrapers for him to climb into. He would have numerous opportunities to strike. "Tell ya what, mates. I guarantee I can keep eyes on all fronts. You pick which places to strike, and I'll stick to the middle. Should help both sides out."

"Please!" the Scout snorted. "You can't keep an eye on your own ass."

The Sniper made a sour face, but the Engineer nodded. "He's right."

"Truckie!" the Sniper protested.

"Just listen, Stretch," the Engineer argued. "The boys up front do need my buildings. That's a hundred percent correct. But the Spy'll need me, too. I need to be supportin' both sides. Near as I can tell, you're the man workin' the most in the middle. So, I'll be stickin' with you."

Seven men glared at the Engineer as if he had cracked his head open.

The Engineer coughed, then detailed his thoughts a little further. "Look. He protects me, and I build. I'll keep building along the way, and he'll lead me further into enemy territory. Meanwhile, you can follow our path, knowin' that we'll have half a dozen machines dumped all over. Assumin' I don't have a limit on buildings, Miss Paulin'."

"I see no reason to play fair," Miss Pauling agreed.

The Soldier screwed up his face. He stomped towards the couch, then poked the Sniper in his sternum. "If you let one goddamn robot so much as touch the stubble on his chin—"

"I won't," the Sniper swore. "I promise."

Snapping on his heel, the Soldier turned to the rest of the team. "Alright. Ruskie, Strudel, Cyclops—you're with me. Engie, you are free to do as you please. Spy? Do whatever it is that you do, outside of smoking and dying. Smokey Joe? City Boy? What are you two doing?"

The Pyro clapped his hands. "Mm grrnrr krrr rrr drr rrbts!"

"Just point at me or the Spy," the Soldier huffed.

Rolling his head, the Pyro pointed at the Soldier. He tipped his head, then pointed at the Spy. No, that wasn't right either. He wavered between the two, then looked at the Engineer. An old terror sparked in his head. There would be Spy robots. Lots of them. And while the Sniper might be capable at protecting the Engineer, there would be little he could do to help a sapped building. The Pyro nodded his head, then tapped on the Engineer's lap.

"You wanna follow me?" the Engineer asked.

The Pyro bobbed his head. He then swung his fist up and down in a hammering motion. "Mm grrnrr rss drr Hrrmwrrckrr!"

"Homewrecker! Good choice, buddy!" the Engineer agreed. He raised his hand to the Pyro, who high-fived in it return.

"Well, dhen it's totally obvious what my son should be doing!" the Scout's mother butted into the debate. "Honey, go follow dhe Spy. You'll need to make sure no creepazoid robots get him!"

The team burst out laughing as the Scout sunk into his seat. Juvenile groans wormed their way out of his mouth. "Ma, please! I'm an adult! Totally capable of making my own decisions here."

The Spy leaned over to the Scout, then smiled. "And?"

"Ugh. And I'll go with dhe freakin' Frenchie as back-up," the Scout grumbled. He crossed his arms, then tried to make the action his own. "But only because I don't want my ma to see you chained up to some kind of electrocution thing. Or a laser table. Or get cut in half by a saw. You know. Dhe usual way spies die."

Smirking, the Spy left the Scout's personal bubble. He patted the kid a couple times on the head. "Good boy."

The Soldier was satisfied with the division of labor. "Each and every one of you will meet in your off hours to discuss strategies. For the meantime, let's discuss two last critical points—how we get in, how we get out, and how we communicate problems."

"Isn't zhat three zhings?" the Medic corrected the Soldier.

A long growl left the Soldier's throat, but he stopped before he could launch into a fit. That was three things. Well, he didn't have to tell the Medic that he was right. He knew, the Soldier knew, everyone else knew. No need to dwell on his mistakes. He skipped over his misspeak, then turned to the Engineer. "What are you thinking?"

The Engineer sighed, then put his head down. It was like the Heavy had said earlier—if they came in via the bridge, they would be exposed. Going by sea was a possibility, but they didn't have a submarine. Same problem as the highway if they went by boat. They could hijack an airplane, but those were hard to come by. Worse yet would be being shot down in air. The Engineer kicked back, knocking the Sniper in the legs as he relaxed.

Wait—being seen wasn't a problem. Being seen as an enemy was the problem.

"DeGroot, Mundy, and I came here in one of those big damn tanks. And you guys knocked another one out of commission," the Engineer said. "I get 'em gassed and fixed up, then we head 'em out and do things Trojan style."

The Soldier's face dropped. "Engie! Nix the T-word in front of the ladies!"

Both Miss Pauling and the Scout's mother gave the Soldier a dirty look. The latter was unfazed. "If someone had said dhat word to me thirty years ago, I'd be down six kids."

Most of the men went bright red. They were not accustomed to talking about such things with women, especially not in front of their coworkers and family members. It took a few nervous chuckles for the group to get back on track. Even then, the Scout looked like he wanted to go curl in the corner and die of embarrassment.

"Will need help. Much smelting, maybe lifting. Big work." The Heavy offered the Engineer his hand. "I will help."

The Engineer smiled and shook the Heavy's hand. "Thank ya kindly."

"Don't forget about our last topic," Miss Pauling interrupted the Heavy and Engineer's handshake. "Mister Conagher, we'll need to set up another communications hub."

The Engineer nodded. "You've come to the right place, then. Hydro's chock full of dishes and towers. I'll get our headsets ready to go, and you can lead us from here. Be a bit safer than comin' with us, I think."

The Scout's mother drew her head back. "Oh, sure! You're worried about Great White Hunter over there getting his neck wrung, and you're not worried about Miss P getting hauled off by robots? Ya know, from dhe base dhat dhe old bastard knows we've activated?"

Miss Pauling and the Sniper cringed. Both were dangerous killers in their own right but comparing them was like comparing an apple and a kiwi. She dealt with personal assassinations, and he dealt with the less passionate long-range murders. Putting either of them in each other's position was a recipe for disaster. Talking about which one was deadlier was madness in its own right.

The Engineer tried to placate the Scout's mother. "Well, I've got the place locked up. There are sentries all over the place. I mean, you'll know if there's trouble 'a comin'. She'll be safer here than in the back of a tank."

"Yeah," the Scout's mother snarked. "Twelve hours away from yous guys, surrounded by bases full of robots, and she's safer."

"What should I be doing?" Miss Pauling asked. It seemed insane to ask a civilian what to do, but she wouldn't be silenced until she had her say.

The Scout's mother smiled. "Someone's gotta have your back, Miss P. Might as well be me."

All of the men rumbled in disapproval. That was a blasphemous statement. There was no way they were going to let someone who could kick the bucket permanently get in line for them. The Scout was the loudest in his disapproval. "Ma, no! I can't—"

"Well, I'm sorry, kid! I can't eidher," the Scout's mother replied. "My house is still under lock down. I can't go run off to be with your brothers without gettin' dhem in trouble, too. If I'm stuck here with yous guys, I'm gonna do what I can. And you know what? I'm freakin' good at talkin'! So, dhat's what I'm gonna do!"

"Uh…yeah, I guess." The Scout could hardly disagree with that.

Miss Pauling relaxed and thought the idea over. It wasn't disagreeable with her. Having two sets of ears listening for trouble could help with faster responses. If she doubted anything about the Scout's mother, it was her ability to act with limited emotional investment. The last thing she wanted that woman to do was flip out because someone she loved was in the line of danger. That was a real threat.

"If you're going to do this, I need you to be focused only on the mission," Miss Pauling told the Scout's mother. "You can't put your own needs or wants in front of anything else. All you can do is monitor the situation. Do you understand?"

Slowly, the Scout's mother nodded. "Well, Miss P. I can't just sit 'n pray."

A warm hand took hers. The Spy reassured the mother. "Zhe Engineer and I will take over zhe security cameras, once we get access to one. You will always have audio. Whatever you do, you listen to her." He nodded his head towards Miss Pauling. "And if we all fail—"

"—Don't make me promise dhat," the Scout's mother whispered.

He lifted his head, then kissed her forehead. He let her go without the promise. It would be broken, even if she did swear on it. He straightened his jacket, then stood up. "Gentlemen, should we get to work?"

The team mumbled in agreement. The Spy was the first to show himself out. The Soldier and Pyro marched out next, followed by the Heavy and Medic. The Demoman wiped his lips clean, then threw the empty tequila bottle in the trashcan. He would have to sober up before assembling grenades. The Engineer tugged the Sniper along, both following the Heavy to the Engineer's workshop. The Scout kept back for one moment, studying his coworker and his mother. Both were frowning, concerned with the other. He gave his mom a smile and a pat on the shoulder, then showed himself out.

Miss Pauling stood up first. She smiled, then offered the Scout's mother her hand. "Ready?"

The Scout's mother gave a slow nod. "Yeah."

They had gotten each other to this point, after all. Trust would have to see them through.

Author's Note

Sorry for the chat dump. One can't go to war without establishing the ground rules.

Are you ready?