The following night passed over Lyra like waves pass over scallops on the shore. She stayed in the workshop for most of the day. She felt feverish. Scout said she was burning like an oven. The Engineer tried to explain the job, what the likely terms of the contract were going to be.
She knew he told her she may be subject to a physical to have her information put into the health system. That she was going to be in what was essentially an active war zone. She stared at him with a blank gaze. She knew she should care but the last 24 hours had been one wild ride.
"What even is this place?" She finally asked.
"It's a long story."
"Two greedy farts want to steal gravel from each other," Scout said.
The Engineer gave him a look.
"That's it, right? The Mann brothers are like wicked old and have more money than God yet they want the others share of the inheritance. So now we're all here in a stalemate because they have equal money and resources?"
"That was… succinct, I guess."
In the evening, Scout insisted she come and eat with the other mercs.
"Sniper is cooking tonight," Scout said. "He always makes something weird. But it's usually tasty."
In the mess hall, the other mercs were already seated.
"Heavy and Medic," Scout pointed to large man and slender man sat across from each other at one end of a table. "Thats Demo-man and Soldier." Two stocky men sat together at the end. The Frenchman, Spy, was in the corner reading a newspaper. Lyra tried to read the headline but it was obscured. "And Sniper."
Sniper was cleaning things behind the counter. He was lean and had a stoic air about him.
In the soup pot was filled with vibrant green broth and tender shreds of chicken. It held an earthy, grainy smell.
"What'd you make this time, Snipes?"
"Pozole Verde," he said. He looked up from cleaning a knife and his avator gaze stopped on Lyra. She got the sense he was siezing her up.
"It looks good," she said. The Sniper nodded and went back to cleaning up.
They turned to the rest of the mess hall and the others felt cold to them. The Engineer had just taken a seat on the far side of the room with the Pyro and waved them over. Pyro had no bowl in front of him. He was sitting up straight in his chair with his fingers laced together. The eyes of the gas mask looked like two black voids that stared out at the room with - curiosity? Indifference? They stared at Lyra when she sat down.
"Don't mind him," the Engineer said. "He doesn't like letting people see him eat, but he enjoys company."
The Pyro waved at Lyra. She waved back, sheepishly.
Her hands clung indulgently to the warm bowl. She had never seen soup so green. She poked at the tomatilla, a little green ball of flesh. She could feel all the eyes on her. She couldn't bring herself to look at them for long. She tried to keep her gaze on the people at her table: Scout, Engineer, Pyro. Scout and Engie made feeble attempts at conversation but Lyra offered little, self-concious that others may be listening, trying to learn more about her from a distance. Sometimes she would steal glances at Spy with his cigarette and his paper. What date was it from? What was he reading about?
No one approached them for the rest of the meal. The mercs trickled out without even a word to her.
The Engineer found a cot for her. Despite the cold air of the workshop, she curled up under one thin blanket. It was soft. Smooth as velvet. She shivered under the blanket. Hot. Sore. Her mind felt wild and frayed.
The Medic gave her something for the fever and the cough.
"She'll come around," he told the Engineer and Scout.
They left her alone to sleep. She dreamed she was as small as a bag of flour. She was warm and safe in a blonde woman's arms. She kissed Lyra's temple and whispered throughout the night "I love you, I love you, I love you."
Lyra woke up to the sound of the Engineer's voice. Her eyes were wet from tears.
Miss Pauling returned in the morning with a tan, over-stuffed brief case.
They met in the conference room. It was small. The walls were cinnabar red. It had a rustic hardwood floor. There were no windows in this room. Two light fixtures hang down from the ceiling. The room feels dim even when the lights are on.
There is a table in the center of the room. 9 chairs are placed around it. A 10th chair sits next to the door. Next to the chair was a decorative table. A cactus and a vase sits on it. Above it is a large framed photograph of the hoodoos in the Badlands. On the right hand wall is a small decorative mirror. The viewer can only see a fragment of themselves in it. There are more photographs of mines on the wall. On the left wall, there are schematics of bases and calenders that have been crossed out.
Much like the mess hall, there is a white board on the far wall. It's been wiped clean but there are still faint traces of what was there before.
One thing that Lyra can make out is "BLU team sucks eggs."
Miss Pauling instructed Lyra to take a sit. Lyra sat in the middle of the conference table facing the door. The Engineer stood beside her but did not sit. Miss Pauling black brick of a cell phone on the table. She dialed and it rang.
A woman's voice cracked through the speakers.
"Hello? Hello?" The voice was commanding and sounded ancient. Lyra envisioned the owner looking like some type of harpy clutching a cellular phone to it's face. This must be the Administrator.
"Hello?" Lyra replied. Miss Pauling made a face. The Engineer grasped her shoulder. There was a pause on the phone.
"I take it," she paused. "That you are the nuisance that's causing me this headache?"
"I guess so," Lyra said. "Sorry."
"I wasn't expecting you to be- uh- present, Helen," the Engineer interjected.
"Don't be surprised, Dell. I try to introduce myself to all my mercs. Young lady, your name is Lyra Jennings, correct?"
The Engineer nudged her to respond.
"Yes," she said.
"Your contract is amended to accept you on a temporary basis. The contract will be from December 17th to March 20th. If we are interested to extend your term, that will be a later discussion, you understand?"
"I understand."
"Good. You will receive a small stipend every month, but you won't be paid in full until until the end of your term, understand?"
"Yes."
"And finally," she held onto this one, "The employee will not receive respawn privileges."
"That's outrageous!" the Engineer slammed his hands on the table. "What sham is this?"
"Calm yourself, Dell."
"What are respawn privileges?" Lyra asked.
"In the event that you die on the job, you would resurrected."
Lyra did not even ask to elaborate more. She reflected on Spy with a fire-axe in his head. How he was fine now, in better condition than her. So she had killed him, she concluded. She looked at the Engineer.
"Does - dying happen a lot?"
"Yes, Lyra." The Engineer struggled to keep his tone even. "You shouldn't sign this."
"You can refuse to sign," the Administrator purred, "But there will be no further negotiations on the contract. You can be escorted out by Miss Pauling."
Lyra looked at Miss Pauling. Then at the photograph of the Badlands landscape. She imagined her and Miss Pauling being there. Miss Pauling would have her stare at the horizon. Ask her to study the hoodoos and their stripes while she readied a gun that was hidden under her skirt.
Lyra picked up the pen.
"Where do I sign?"
"Lyra, you shouldn't."
"It sounds like this is my only option," she said sternly. "Where do I sign?"
Miss Pauling leaned over and showed her over 20 pages or so where she needed to sign, initial date.
"Congratulations," the Administrator said. "Welcome to the RED team, Miss Jennings. I look forward to seeing how you do."
With that the line went dead.
Lyra was still holding the pen. The Engineer had a look of disbelief on his face. Disbelief at her? The Administrator?
Miss Pauling shuffled all the papers back into a neat pile and slid them into a manila envelope.
"We're almost done," Miss Pauling said. "Engie, if you could please step out, I am going to have Lyra try on her uniform."
The Engineer obliged and left the room without a word.
Miss Pauling laid out a series of clothes: a red T-Shirt, denim overalls, a red jacket, a hard hat, gloves, goggles, and boots. She stepped out. Before the door could close, Lyra heard the Engineer remark:
"Is that your boss's idea of a compromise?"
The door clicked closed and the two voices mingled in a muffled sound.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Engie."
While Lyra changed, she stole glimpses of her body in the small decorative mirror. It didn't feel real what she saw. She was never a super skinny person when she was younger, yet looking at her bare hips and torso felt disturbing.
"Can't you talk to her? Convince her to extend a normal contract?"
Miss Pauling gave a shriek laugh. "You all think too highly of me if you think I can convince that woman of anything."
It was a subtle change with the skinning hugging tight to her hip bones. Her sternum looked more defined. She rubbed her legs. They felt bonier than ever. This past year and a half had taken a hefty toll. Her hair seemed wry; she noticed it was thinning around the temples. She hoped that it wasn't a permanent thing. That she was still young enough to recoup from the damage she had done to herself.
"How long does the Administrator expect her to last?"
"I'm not going to comment on that."
Lyra pulled the t-shirt on and shimmied into the overalls. It fit well. Not too baggy. Not too tight. It was only until Lyra put on the boots that she realized Miss Pauling had a gift for guessing clothes sizes. Before she even put them on, she felt a smile on her face as she saw the label. Size 8 and a half. She sighed in relief as she could lay her foot flat in the shoe. Lyra had been settling on half a size too small for a while now. The soles in her old shoes were worn away.
She watched herself in the small sliver of the mirror. She put on the goggles, then the hard hat, then the gloves. That girl from Mesquite was unrecognizable now. In the mirror was a little Engineer. Perhaps Lyra Jennings was a mercenary after all.
Lyra smiled wryly at the reflection. She was happy with it, surprised even by how comfortable the clothes were. Still, though, it seemed strange. It all seemed strange. But she took it in stride.
When Lyra stepped out, the Engineer and Miss Pauling quieted down.
The Engineer smiled, pleased. He made some Texan expression to show his approval.
"Everything fit alright?" Miss Pauling asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Great!"
"Miss Pauling?"
"Yes?"
"Could I possibly wear my own jacket."
Lyra pointed to the jacket laid over the middle seat.
Miss Pauling subtly pulled on her lip with her teeth.
"It's red, so sure," She said with polite regard for the decrepit thing. "Have a seat. We need to do one more thing."
She laid out a bulky laptop, a few vials, a needle, and a small purple cube on the conference table. She explained to Lyra that she was going to take some blood samples and inject her with a microchip.
"This will monitor your vitals and communicate with the Health System to help you heal instantaneous.
Lyra glanced at the Engineer. He didn't seem to have any objections to his. Lyra nodded to continue.
"I figured I would spare you dealing with the Medic for this," Miss Pauling said pulling on latex gloves. "Which arm?"
Lyra offered her right arm. Miss Pauling rubbed a cool sterile cloth over her upper arm. Lyra looked at the wall to her left. Pinned with thumb tacs were blueprints labeled "Tuefort". There was a mounting pressure in her arm.
"Done." Miss Pauling rubbed the injection site to help it settle. "Now for some blood samples. Same arm?"
"Sure."
Miss Pauling dabbed the crook of her elbow with antiseptic and wrapped an elastic band around her upper arm. Miss Pauling was holding the needle while she poked at the sterilized area with a gloved finger.
"You have small veins."
Lyra didn't say anything to that. Miss Pauling inserted the needle effortlessly despite how small her veins were. Lyra was staring at the brief-case now. There was a small paperback sitting on it. The title read "The Portrait of Dorian Gray."
Drawing blood was a process, and Lyra's vein was rather small, so it took a while. Lyra asked what all this was for, and Miss Pauling explained that she was saving data into the health system. They had this technology that allowed people to heal instantaneously. To test it, she cut Lyra's hand with a scalpel. Lyra watched the blood flow from her palm. Miss Pauling pressed the top of the purple cube, and a wispy lavender beam latched onto Lyra. Suddenly, the blood started to draw back into the wound, and the torn flesh was sealed closed. It had healed perfectly. There was no sign of a scar.
"That's amazing," Lyra said. There was a knot tying up in her stomach. This technology was worth killing over. No wonder the Administrator was obsessed with secrecy.
Lyra caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror. The ring around her eye hadn't healed. Lyra asked about that.
"It could only heal what it knows. Your eye will heal over time. It won't reverse the body's natural healing mechanisms," Miss Pauling said.
When she was done, Miss Pauling packed everything back into the overstuffed briefcase. Lyra eyed the laptop and the cube.
Perhaps, she thought, the respawn system uses the same data.
An idea started to form.
Certainly, if they had access to the data then... The thought ended there but would linger in the back of her mind.
Miss Pauling told Lyra goodbye and wished her the best of luck.
I'm really going to need it, Lyra thought.
The Engineer re-entered the conference room. He sat down across from Lyra. Lyra was still dressed in the engineer uniform. She was slumped in her chair. Her mind felt fried and foggy, and the expression on her face showed it.
"So what do you think my chances are?" Lyra asked.
"I think you got a fair shot."
"Don't lie," she said. "I could hear you talking to Miss Pauling."
The Engineer sighed. He looked at the picture of the hoodoos on the wall. Then back at her.
"Yeah, it's a bad deal," he said. She could see her reflection in his goggles. "You already look the part, though. Maybe we will all be surprised. Maybe you'll end up being the best of us."
"There you go again," Lyra smirked. "Do you ever tell the truth?"