Author notes: Apologies for the delays with this chapter, again, little excuse really. This one was difficult to wrangle with as it ended up being a wee bit different to what I had planned (it was supposed to be a lot shorter for starters) and I didn't exactly write it whilst in the most alert of states or best of moods. My paragraphs and spacing was mangled even worse than usual, most of it should be fixed (as are stupid spelling mistakes) but a few things might have escaped my sleepy eyes.
Bit of a breather chapter here (hence the name), a few revelations and other things, but mostly just a break and some foreshadowing before more...more what? Action? Hammy speeches? Overpowered weapons? Time will tell.

The Last Engineer - Chapter 17: Breather

The sound of laughter filled the air with a sense of life and energy that had otherwise been absent as of late for the mercenaries. Secured away in the confines of a well-furnished room within an abandoned hidden base that the Spy had led them to, the men felt free to let themselves rest, if only for a little while. Sure, they were still on the run from the woman who effectively ruled the entire world in secret, camped in one of her own bases and with a bounty on their heads but hey, "sometimes you just gotta stop, take a look at all ya been through and laugh," as the BLU Engineer had put it. And so, laugh they had.

They laughed and cheered at the distant sight of the runaway trains colliding with the roadblock far ahead, causing an explosion on the horizon. They took little jabs at each other as always, from the Spy's ridiculous accent which the Scout insisted he had to be putting on ("I assure you, my accent is as authentic as zhis rogue is handsome, mon amis") and the Sniper's continued insistence on stockpiling on Jarate ("Doesn't matter if you blokes think I'm bonkers, this stuff is bleedin' useful!") to a particular source of mirth from the former BLUs: The Crimson Demon's apparent love for hammy speeches on the battlefield.

"Really now, Herr Engineer? You may have got zhe drop on us and shown incredible prowess on zhe field, but was the ridiculous yelling about your fiery passions really necessary?" The Medic asked with one eyebrow raised, ignoring the bottle of American beer on the table in front of him. Spy too was lifting his nose to the alcohol, the Frenchman's refined tastes clearly not including the swill that most of the others were so eager to drink down.

To his credit, the former RED did seem embarrassed, taking upon the shade of his former team and coughing a little before replying, with a chuckle: "Odd that you should complain doc, seein' as that "ridiculous yelling" seems to have brought you fellas along with me on this little ride." The Texan took a swig from his bottle, smiling and leaning back in his chair a little. "...'Sides, I'd been working like a rented mule, was running mostly on adrenaline and well...I suppose a guy could sorta get lost in the moment."

He paused for a moment, as if he was about to add something but was unsurprisingly interrupted by the Scout, who had so far managed to avoid opening his mouth for a quick comment for a record-breaking two minutes.

"Pfft, whatever man, talking all big. You just got us by surprise and had some fancy gear, coulda totally took care of ya if it was even turf." The normally fast-spoken boy was speaking surprisingly slowly and appeared to be swaying in his chair slightly. All eyes slowly moved to the bottle in front of him, of which but a few sips had been taken.

A pause.

The Medic and Spy resisted the urge to bury their heads in their hands; the two Engineers just shook their heads sadly, whilst the Demoman and Sniper shared a glance and resisted the urge to laugh. The Heavy saw no such need to hide his amusement, roaring with laughter as the Soldier grimaced and the Pyro played with a lighter dangerously close to an unopened can.

The batter from Boston blinked a few times before catching on, not to the reactions of his teammates, but to what he'd just said.

"Oh jeez! Uh...no, I know we're on the same side an' all, wouldn't think o' fighting with ya, hardhat but...just saying, ya know what I'm saying?"

Before any of the team members paying attention (for the Pyro was distracted by the flame of the now lit lighter and the Soldier appeared to be conversing with his shovel) could stop him, the Scout took another long swig from the bottle, gulping down loudly and almost falling from his chair, were it not for the BLU Engineer catching him at the last moment and setting him upright.

"Woah, steady on there pardner! I think you've had enough, son."

"Wha...what do you know? I'm fine, I think...uh...drink, all the time, ask my ma. I sho - no - I could tatally...motolly...totally, uh...fuck, what was I sayin'?" The Scout's speech worsened and his attempts to turn around and squint at the Texan again caused him to come dangerously close to hurting himself.

As the Engineer hefted him up once more, sharing more than a few glances and eye rolls with those that hadn't erupted into laughter, the drunken mercenary stunned the room into silence:
"Don't need ya help, which...which hardhat even are ya, hardhat? You two look so alike...should use your names or summin', tell ya apiece...uh, apart..."

It was a curious thing. Such a simple statement, the impact of which was lost on the young fighter, who appeared to be drifting off into sleep. But to everyone else, the air became dead once more, with a slight spark of electricity. Slowly but surely, everyone but the Scout's gaze (including the Solider and Pyro, had dropped their shovel and lighter, respectively) turned towards the two Texans.

It stirred thoughts of the other team, of RED. Sure, it'd been odd how the two teams who so alike in fighting style and equipment, especially in the early days, but things had never clicked somehow. That both Heavies would be large and Russian or both Soldiers insane and American was a coincedence that was remarked upon once and then forgotten about. They had seen it; they had seen the similarities...

No, more than similarities. Aside from minor details and colour scheme, the two teams were identical. The two Medics looked and sounded the same, as did every other class except possibly the Pyro, as nobody knew what he/she/it looked like. But somehow, crazy as it might seem, this fact had never really stuck with them or became as obvious as now.

Perhaps it was that they were on the same team now, no longer seeing the others as enemies, no longer on the battlefield, no longer in the respawn system and within the watchful eye of the Administrator. Whatever it was, right now, the truth was as clear as day: robotic limbs and armour aside, the two Engineers were identical.

Silence. Puzzled faces struggled to come to terms with this, the Medic bowing his head, the Spy retrieving a cigarette and the Demoman drinking more of his scrumpy before looking at the two Texans once more, blinking his one eye rapidly.

"...Och lads, is it just me, or does that bloody Scoot have a point? Them two are like twins and I kin see it so clear all o' a sudden! That ain't just the drink talkin', is it?"

The Sniper coughed, frowning as his eyes flickered from one Engineer to the other.
"No mate, I think you're right. 'sides the obvious differences, they might as well be twins. Ain't got a dingo's clue how I missed it before..."

The two Engineers merely looked at each other in confusion, neither one certain of what exactly was going on. The former BLU merely sighed, sat back down once he was sure that the Scout was secure in his seat and gestured for his counterpart to try and address this issue. His eyes unseen behind his goggles, the 10th mercenary of the team raised a gloved hand to his chin, lost in thought.

The room descended into quiet once more, the only sounds being the breathing of the sleeping Scout, the flicker of the Pyro's lighter and the beeps of distant sentry turrets. Despite Spy assuring everyone the location was abandoned, safe, secure and forgotten about, they had decided to erect some defences just in case.

Finally, the former RED stood to his feet, addressing all awake members of the team.
"Now...I ain't exactly sure on the details, but considering all the madness we've seen, the technology and some of the shadier elements of out employment...I reckon it ain't a massive stretch to assume that the Administrator's got somethin' to do with this. And you'd best believe I mean both why we never noticed and why both teams were effectively mirrors of each other."
The Solider slammed his hand on the table, causing the sleeping Scout to twitch and the Pyro's lighter to fall to the floor with a clatter.

"Do you mean to tell me that the REDs were part of some insane clone soldier project joint developed by the Neo-Nazi-Commies then adopted by the sister in charge! I will not stand for this insubordination, there's only enough room on this planet for one of me and no maggot will inherit my fit-form physique through this madness!"

The American's angry gaze swept across the team from beneath his helmet, idling perhaps a little longer than needed on the Medic, Heavy and Spy for some reason. The other Engineer leant back a bit and held up both hands in a placating fashion.

"Slow down there, let's not be hasty and jump to conclusions. It could be clones but it could be something else. With the respawn, ghosts, haunted swords, teleportation technology, cloaking devices, and cans of radioactive soda, it could darn well be anything. So let's not be pointing fingers or making judgements until we got some solid data."

The Medic cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses before standing up and motioning for everyone to sit down and stay still.
"...Zhis is most worrying to consider und holds many...complications for us. But for now, we have enough on our plate as it is. I suggest zhat we focus on our major problems concerning our continued survival as well as zhe other interesting point raised by the drunken dumpkopf in the chair there." At the final comment he gestured to the sleeping Scout, rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to facepalm, especially when he saw how much of the bottle still remained.

"Oh? Would you care to enlighten us, doctor? It is already shock enough for the boy's idle chatter to prove one item of interest, let alone a second." The Spy snorted, puffing smoke in the direction of the target of his scorn.

"Whilst I do agree zhat we should be focusing our efforts on more pressing matters, zhis is nonetheless something we shall have to address."

"Well...I do believe that considering the situation with our two Engineers and the formation of zhis new team outside of the original contract...a certain clause regarding identity would be wise to now ignore." The Medic stated, settling down once more and again looking at his own beer with distaste, wrinkling his nose as he removed his glasses and wiped them on a rare clean patch of his labcoat.

"Surely you cannot be serious, doctor? I am zhe Spy, to reveal my name even to my colleagues would be against all that I am."

It was not the Medic who answered but instead, the Solider, looking rather grim. "Jane Doe" was all he said, until, noticing the silence and confused looks; he cleared his throat and continued, glaring at the Spy.

"I said my name is Jane Doe. Come on Frenchie, Medic has a point, us men are all in this together now and if we're to win future battles we must trust each other as brothers in arms! For to not be able to trust each other at this stage is to surrender and I DO NOT SURRENDER! Way I see it, boys, is that it's us against the world right now and Uncle Sam ain't gonna help us, so get your heads out of your asses and put some trust in this unit!"

Jane paused in his ranting to take a breath and calm down, gesturing with one hand for someone else to continue. There was some mumbling and shuffling, but nobody said anything. Nobody until the Demoman, at least, who loudly placed his scrumpy bottle down and looked everyone in the eye before speaking.

"My name...ah, to hell with it, the name's Ewan Dougal. Dinnae be forgetting it lads!"

Faces of surprise quickly became more relaxed and the Sniper was the next to come forward, sighing a little as he did so:

"It's not very professional of me but at this point there isn't really anything professional left in this mess, roight? It's Jack Martin and I'll put one between your eyes if you don't speak up too. That goes for you especially, spoy."

And so, one by one, the names of each mercenary of Team Fortress was spoken aloud for the first time in countless years, albeit requiring some effort to acquire: Scout was rudely woken up and clued in, Pyro took several attempts to actually decipher and even then it was uncertain. As for the Spy, it took considerable time and pressure but eventually the mystery man agreed to disclose his forename, adding slyly that it may not be his real name, but all the same was one they were free to refer to him by. In the end, though, the team broke their contract again, choosing to disclose their identities to the men who they had fought and died with (and for one, against):

Scout - Kevin Sanders
Soldier - Jane Doe
Pyro - Ashley ?
Demoman - Ewan Dougal
Heavy - Grigori Borislav
BLU Engineer - Dell Conagher
RED Engineer - Isaac Howard
Sniper - Jack Martin
Medic - Nils Reiniger
Spy - Gabriel ?

And so it was that the men of the team had uncovered another mystery regarding the matter of their employment and their former battles, but that night, as they slipped further and further into an alcohol-induced sleep, their bonds grew ever closer. No longer were they mere colleagues doing their job or even soldiers fighting alongside one another. No, they had shared that one last element they'd withheld for so long, that last link to their former lives that they had.

Perhaps it was the tiring circumstances that had pushed them all so far. Or maybe it was the excessive drinking, singing and joking around, with even the Medic and Spy eventually accepting the cheap booze with a grimace and some choking. Perhaps still it was just something about their victories, of knowing the feeling of hope, of having the sheer nerve to use one of the Administrator's old bases against her.

Whatever it was though...they felt it all. Despite whatever they may encounter, whatever hurdles and obstacles may confound them...one thing was certain. Team Fortress would grow stronger. They would grow closer. And someday, they would strike back.

But for now...ten men more dangerous than anything the world had seen before...slept at ease with one another.

Elsewhere, there was to be no rest. Video screens displayed, repeating over and over, what little footage she had to draw from. Entire squads being eliminated with ease, attack copters swatted like flies and the train that had been carrying some of TF Industries' elite forces smashing through the trap that she had placed. These men dared to defy her. They dared to abuse what she had given them and they dared to vanish without a trace, covering their tracks and killing all who would chase them down.

The lips of the most powerful woman in the world were thin and cold, her frown heavy, her eyes sparking frozen danger into the screens before her. These men...her pieces...they would not survive. She will capture them and she will make them regret ever being born into this world...her world.

Turning to face her quivering assistant, who flinched back from her intense gaze, the Administrator tapped out her cigarette. Cocking one eyebrow up and bringing her hands together, she spoke:

"Tell me, Miss Pauling. How do we deal with a big, ragtag bunch of foolish brutes?"

Silence met her. Good, the girl was learning, that question had been rhetorical, and woe betide anyone who interrupted her. A small smile that carried with it no warmth began to materialise on her features.

"It is really quite simple, so much so that perhaps, given enough time, even you could have thought of it. We get an even bigger foolish brute, of course. Contact him and tell him that Helen needs another favour..."

In the south and across the sea, in the heart of the technologically advanced deathtrap that is Australia, a man fights bare-handed against a mutated kangaroo as onlookers cheer and shout, proud moustaches clearly visible in the sun. But alas, the sport comes to an end with one final decisive blow and an interruption from one of the man's assistants, carrying a large, newfangled mobile phone.

A quick few words is all it takes. The crowd steps back and the newly-crowned King of Australia roars and charges into the distance with naught more but a single cry of...

"SAAAAAAAAAAAXTON HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALE!"

End of chapter notes: So...totally not obvious foreshadowing there. And yes, the team has been named. Spent a long time on the names, trying to go for names that fit okay (in my eyes), had relevant meanings (not for all characters though) and actually fit the region everyone is from .
You may question my use of the BLU Engie's and Soldier's actual names whilst everyone else is fabricated. Bear with me. Yes, we know the Demoman's name and the Sniper's surname but only for RED. For the nature of this story, the classes have different names based on which team they were on and thus, despite their identical appearances, have different memories of their families and whatnot.
Where I'm going with this will be revealed...eventually.