RED Headquarters - Location: classified. Saturday, March 31st, 1973.
"I expected better from you, of all people." She took a long drag of her cigarette and made a series of perfect rings in the air with the smoke.
"I-I know. I'm sorry, Administrator. It won't happen again, I promise!"
She gave a wry smile, tapping her cigarette with her finger. The ashtray sat nearby on her desk, yet she didn't seem to care about the mess of smoldering debris that was now settled on the floor. "And why should I believe you?"
"Why shouldn't you?" Resisting the urge to nervously fuss over her clothing and hair, she added, "You trust me with everything."
She rolled her eyes. " I know. That's why your recent failure is so… out of character. It's not like you to shirk your duties, Miss Pauling."
"Oh, uh, well…There was a lot of work yesterday and I just couldn't finish it all."
"Do you take me for an idiot?"
She felt her heart leap in her chest. "No, Ma'am! Of course not!"
The Administrator uncrossed her legs, leaning forward in her desk chair. "Then why are you lying to me?"
She hugged her clipboard closer to her chest as if it were a shield that could have protected her from the woman's wrath. She swallowed hard and remained silent. The Administrator stared her down, taking a sharp drag of her cigarette.
"Miss Pauling, I see everything. Do you think I didn't see Scout parading around the base in that ill-fitted suit? Do you think I didn't see you show up with him a few hours later?"
Miss Pauling hung her head. "It won't happen again. I promise."
She huffed. "Good."
"I-I did follow up with him about the phone call."
The Administrator raised an eyebrow. She reclined in her seat once more, causing the chair's tilt mechanism to creak as she shifted her weight. "What did he tell you?"
"He gave me an update on what's happening at the base." Barely waiting for a signal to continue, she said, "Sniper tested negative for Australium. Engie also confirmed that the robots were from Gray Gravel Co. And Medic still needs more Medi Gun fluid. And some cadavers."
"I'll get you what the psychopath wants. But, before I do, you're going to tell me more about these robots and that Australium."
"There's… not really much else to say." Miss Pauling adjusted her glasses before glancing at the notes she had recently clutched to her chest. "We still don't know what Gray Gravel Co. is going to try next, let alone when."
"But they are still after the Australium, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"So I thought." Extinguishing her cigarette, she laced her fingers together and set them on her lap. "Miss Pauling, I have a special mission for you. Failure will not be tolerated."
"You can count on me."
RED Team Base, Outside - Badlands, New Mexico, USA. Monday, April 2nd, 1973.
"Hustle, men! Those sandbags won't carry themselves!" Soldier barked, jogging ahead with two sacs on each shoulder, the minimum load he imposed for the group. Despite the weight, he was keeping pace and barely showing a sign of fatigue, even in the warm afternoon sun. It wasn't as hot as it could be during the summer, but it certainly wasn't refreshing.
"Remind me why we're doin' this crap," Scout complained, fumbling with his load but still managing to be quick on his feet despite the challenge.
Before Soldier could launch into another lecture about the importance of maintaining a regular training regime, Engineer said, "It'll be easier if you shut yer trap."
"Can it, hardhat!" he panted. "You're hardly doin' better!"
Heavy dragged behind the rest of the team, only lightly jogging. Zhanna stayed with him, keeping a similar pace. Rather than attempting to keep up, he carried eight sandbags stacked on his shoulders and two cradled in his arms as though he were carrying a baby. Zhanna held six, three on each shoulder.
Medic, intentionally sticking to the back of the group, turned around and stopped running for a moment to smile at Heavy. With a breathless laugh, he said, "Don't make me wait on you."
"You are fast; you go ahead. I stay here."
He shook his head. Holding the sandbags to his shoulders, he dashed ahead to make up for the distance, leaving Heavy by himself several meters back.
"You do not run with Soldier?" Heavy asked his sister.
"No. He has not apologized yet."
"I hope he does soon."
Meanwhile, Scout charged ahead of Soldier, shooting him a conceited grin as he passed by. As soon as he arrived back in front of the doors to their base, he let out a triumphant laugh and let his burden tumble to the ground. "How do ya like that, fellas?" He flexed, examining his non-existent bicep muscle with glee. As he was about to parade around, showing off his alleged strength, he tripped over the sandbags he just dropped, causing him to land flat on his face. As if taking revenge for their encounter a few nights before, Medic howled with laughter.
"I'm not healing that, dummkopf."
"Go to hell," he mumbled, picking himself back up.
A van pulled in, shaking him from his glory. Within a few seconds, most of the team had joined him.
Pyro mumbled something that sounded like a question.
"What's with the van, you ask?" Engineer clarified, wiping some sweat from his brow. "I have no idea." The door opened and a petite woman hopped out. He chuckled and said, "Well I'll be. Someone's in luck."
It was Miss Pauling. "Hey, guys."
Scout scrambled to dust his clothing off. "Uh, h-hey there, Miss Pauling! Uh, what're you doin' here?"
"I'm… moving in. Administrator's orders."
He shook his head quickly, eyes sparkling like a child in a toy store. "Wait, really?"
"Yup. I'm here to oversee the Australium project."
Scout uttered a series of unintelligible sounds, mouth agape. A few of the guys snickered, yet he was too stunned to notice or care.
"Mind helping me carry my things inside?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course!" With that, he bolted to the back of the van, suddenly filled with new energy.
Heavy and Zhanna then caught up with the rest of the team, who promptly filled them in on the recent turn of events. They agreed to help Miss Pauling unload her belongings, which only took a few trips to and from the van to complete. After they had brought her things into the common room, Demoman asked, "So, where are you going to be staying, lass?"
"Well, where do you have space?"
"In my room!" Scout said, pointing his thumbs toward himself. "Obviously."
"Yeah, no," she said quickly. Scout pouted, a stormy air coming over him just as quickly as his previous joy had. To this, she said, "Scout, it's not personal. It's just too soon, that's all."
He crossed his arms with a huff. "Fine."
Sniper chuckled. "Nice try, mate. But to answer your question, I think we've got that one locked up room at the end of the hall. Reserved for Mann Co. personnel or something like that."
"That will work." She took a few of her bags and took off down the hall toward what would soon be her quarters.
After they had finished setting up her room, Scout and Miss Pauling went to the Common Room phone to try once more to call his mother. When they had tried a few nights before, she still hadn't answered, likely due to the late hour of the night. Surely, since it was around dinner time, she would pick up, assuming she was safe.
Scout lifted the receiver and punched in the number, then waited. Miss Pauling stood beside him for a few seconds before taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. He smiled slightly.
"Hello?"
His face lit up. "Oh thank God!
"Joel? Is everything alright?"
"It is now, yeah!" Scout nodded to Miss Pauling, who gave a thumbs up. "You're doin' okay, right?"
"Um… yes," she said, sounding confused.
"That's great! So, what've you been up to?"
"I've just been around the house; made some cookies last night."
"You made my favourites, didn't ya?"
"Of course, sweetie. If you were closer to home, I'd send some over to ya."
He smiled. "Aww, thanks, Ma."
On her end of the phone, a voice faintly said something that Scout couldn't make out. It was clearly a man's voice, but it was all he knew.
"I'm sorry, I need to go."
"Ma? Ma, who is that?"
"I'll call you tomorrow. I love you!"
"Don't hang up!" The line was dead before he had even finished speaking. Scout sighed and hung up.
"What happened?" Miss Pauling asked.
"Some guy's there. And she just… hung up; didn't say nothin'."
"Oh…" She smiled slightly. "Well, at least you know she's safe, right?"
"She said she was fine, but, like… who was that guy? It'd better not be one of the bad guys. Or one of those creeps tryin' to get close to her again."
"Scout, I'm sure she's okay."
He nodded, hanging his head.
She planted a kiss on his cheek. "Why don't we do something to take your mind off of things?"
His cheeks grew warm, a smile now plastered across his lips. "Uh… Yeah, okay." The two of them sat down on one of the couches in front of the television set, where Soldier, Medic, and Sniper were watching a show. Pyro was lying on their stomach and absently kicking their legs in the air in front of the small screen. It quickly became clear that it was a kids show, too. Medic and Sniper looked as though they were about to fall asleep, while Soldier seemed to be interested. Pyro's eyes were glued to the screen, or it at least seemed as though they were; the mask made it difficult to know for sure.
The show cut to a commercial break, and Pyro groaned. First, an advertisement for colourful toy ponies played, accompanied by scenes of happy little girls moving the horses along the screen to the tune of an irritating jingle. It seemed like something Pyro would like. Scout was almost surprised that they weren't currently watching the cartoon that went with it. The next commercial came on, showing a child struggling at school, followed by a woman's voice that said, "Got a problem that won't shut up?"
Medic, eyes closed and curled up on his side with his glasses twisted awkwardly on his face, mumbled, "Ja."
Sniper chuckled, on the verge of nodding off himself. He had his hat tipped over his face and his head rested on the back of the couch, feet kicked up on the rustic coffee table.
Leaning a bit closer to him, Miss Pauling asked, "Are they… always like this?"
"Oh yeah," Scout replied a little too loudly. "Every. Freakin'. Day."
Sniper sat up and pushed the hat back to its usual spot. "Some of us are trying to sleep around here."
"Not my problem."
He firmly planted his feet on the floor, glaring at the younger man from behind his sepia-tinted shades. "I'm bloody tired after carrying all those boxes. I carried more than you anyway."
"Hell no! I carried way more!"
Miss Pauling cringed. She was surprised to see Medic undisturbed in his sleep. Pyro and Soldier, thankfully, seemed to be minding their own business. Offering a placating smile, she said, "It doesn't really matter who carried them. You both helped with the move in."
Before either man could hurl another insult to continue the squabble, Heavy strode into the room with a smile. Either he hadn't heard the commotion from outside or he simply didn't care. "Dinner is ready," he said. "Is Mother's recipe, so it is good."
"Thank you, Heavy," Miss Pauling said, getting up and heading to the kitchen. Scout and Sniper shot each other one final glare before following suit, with Soldier close behind them. Pyro lingered for a moment before reluctantly dragging themself away from their show to have dinner with the rest of the team.
Medic didn't rouse at the call to the meal. Once Heavy realized he was asleep, he turned off the T.V. before dropping to one knee in front of the couch. For a moment he simply watched him, almost not wanting to disturb his peaceful rest. With his meaty hand, he lightly shook Medic's shoulder. "Wake up, Doctor. It's dinner time."
He let out a short gasp like he would if a spy had suddenly appeared behind him. Medic sat up quickly and straightened his glasses, revealing a faint red mark where the arm had been pressed against his face. "How long was I out for?"
"I do not know. But, is time for dinner now." Offering a hand, Heavy helped him up and the two joined the rest of the team in the kitchen.
Heavy mostly served the team himself, ladling the borscht he had been simmering on the stove for the past few hours into bowls for each person, passing them out as he prepared them. Before passing a bowl to anyone, he spooned a dollop of sour cream into the centre and stuck a piece of dill into it. Taking a look at those seated at the table, he noticed that everyone was there except for Spy, who he hadn't seen since yesterday.
"Where is Spy?" Heavy asked, setting the bowl he prepared on the counter, leaving the one empty.
"I haven't seen him anywhere today," Miss Pauling said. "Is he even here?"
Pyro gave a muffled answer, causing the rest of the room to look at them and furrow their brows in confusion until Engineer said, "They said he's probably out on one of his little jobs again."
"Again?"
"He does that a lot," Engineer explained. "Once a week, sometimes."
She frowned, setting her spoon down and dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "I hope he's not selling us out."
"I may not trust that creep, but he wouldn't do that," said Scout.
Before anyone could add anything else, a quiet crackle of the intercom sounded. Shortly after, a woman said, "Attention: meet in the intelligence room in 0900 hours. Everyone must attend. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination of your contract." The speaker then went silent.
"We've got to find Spy," Miss Pauling said, getting up before finishing her soup.
"Sit back down and finish your meal; I'm sure the wanker'll be back soon," Sniper said.
She returned to her seat, although not without looking uncomfortable. The team finished their meals in silence then split ways for the night. Not a single one of them saw Spy before they retired to their rooms.
RED Team Base, Intel Room - Badlands, New Mexico, USA. Tuesday, April 3rd, 1973.
Five minutes before the hour, the team took their seats around the table. Some crossed their arms, some put their elbows on the table, others reclined in their seats. Miss Pauling looked out of place as she sat stiffly with her clipboard on the table with a clean page ready to be written on. Scout, Soldier, Pyro, Demo, Heavy, Engie, Sniper, Medic, Zhanna, and Miss Pauling were all in their places and ready for the meeting to begin, yet the last chair closest to the small monitor at the end of the table remained empty.
"Spy is still not here?" Zhanna asked.
"He's a deserter!" Soldier exclaimed. "I knew it!"
An electric zap crackled behind him. "I'm afraid not."
Soldier spun around in his chair. "Spy! You're not a traitor!"
"Hey, there you are!" Miss Pauling called to him. "Right on time."
Spy straightened his tie and sat in the open chair beside her.
The monitor flickered on, showing The Administrator at her desk with her elbows propped up, her hands folded in front of her chin. "Gentlemen, ladies."
Miss Pauling said, "Hello, Administrator! What do you need?" She clicked her pen open and eagerly held it over the blank sheet.
"We need to have a little talk."
"About guns?" Soldier guessed.
Medic leaned forward in his seat, seemingly unable to contain his giddiness. "Ooh, do you have any spare bodies lying around?"
"No, and no," she said dryly. "It appears as though several of you have breached your contracts. I'm very disappointed in almost all of you. The rest of you are satisfactory."
"Wait, what?" Scout straightened up. "What're you talkin' about?"
"No one has made friends with the enemy team again," Spy said, lighting a cigarette and spinning his chair to regard his teammates. "Right?"
There was a chorus of chatter, questions all answered with various negative responses.
"Relationships," The Administrator answered for them. "Several of you are seeing someone. Don't act like I don't know; I see everything."
"Oh." Sniper crossed his arms. "Why'd you call all of us, then? I'm not seeing anyone."
"I know. Sadly I cannot fire all of you, so I called all of you here to go over your contracts; to make some revisions to them."
They were silent for a brief moment, then Spy said, "Go on."
"From what I've observed, none of you have shown a decline in your work performance. There's even been an increase, in some cases." The Administrator shuffled through some of the manila folders laid out in front of her. Their names along with the respective title they were most commonly known by, save for Zhanna and Miss Pauling, were written on each. The files also had a passport-like photo of each person sloppily stapled to each. Zhanna's folder was much thinner and in better condition than the others. She flipped it open, along with the file labeled 'Jane Doe - Soldier'. There was a copy of the same letter placed on the top of both files.
Picking up one of the letters, she said, "It says here that the two of you have been together since September 8th, 1972."
"Yes, Ma'am!" said Soldier. Putting an arm around Zhanna, he added, "And she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!"
"I know," she replied stiffly. "The two of you have done… remarkable work together. Even losing an appendage hasn't stopped you. I dare say I'm impressed. Seeing your relationship is benefitting the team, I will excuse this. Should either of you fail me, I will not hesitate to terminate your contracts."
Zhanna snorted a laugh. "I did not sign contract when I met Soldier. I only sign after."
"I know," The Administrator repeated. "But now you have, so you must comply with these terms."
Soldier sat up as straight as one would in a military line. It was more or less what was happening, in a way. "Damn right we will. I'm a proud American and I know Zhanna is American in her soul."
"Aw, Soldier!" She hugged him tightly. "You make Zhanna's heart tick like bomb!"
"I love you, sweetie."
The Administrator rolled her eyes. "Save your nauseating make-up affections for after the meeting."
"Yes, Ma'am." After wrestling an arm free, he saluted. "Failure is not an option!"
"Good." She gave a wry smile, closing the files. "This goes for the rest of you as well." Her piercing gaze settled on Heavy, then Medic, followed by Spy, and then Demoman, then back to the group. Heavy crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, regarding her with coolness despite the sting of panic he felt. Medic shifted under her gaze, briefly glancing at Heavy before looking ahead again, casually fixing his glasses that were already sitting properly on his nose. Spy simply took a long draw of his cigarette then watched it as the orange embers consumed the remaining paper, drawing closer to the yellow filter. Demoman simply looked lost. "I see everything," she continued. "There is nothing that I don't know."
"You'll only see an increase in our work from here on out," Miss Pauling said. "We'll get the Australium before you know it."
"So I thought. Now get going." The screen switched to flickering static.
Miss Pauling tapped her pen against the page. "Okay, guys, we need to do something about that Australium."
"I have an idea," Spy said, extinguishing his cigarette. "Leave it to me."
AN: Yes, Miss Pauling is back with the team and ready to kick ass! Also, I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. I've been super busy with school, but now that December is here, I've got about a month off. Hopefully I'll have enough time during the holidays to get the next chapter ready and posted. I promise some more blood, guts, and explosions will be coming soon.
Finally, my mom and my boyfriend are busy people, yet they've been taking the time to help me edit this fanfic despite that. I owe a lot to them for all their help and would like to take a moment to thank them for their hard work. They're awesome.