The Tailor trudged through the snow, bundled up in his snow jacket, gloves, earmuffs, and a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. His boots crunched against the frozen ground with every step. Behind him, the Scout followed, shivering as he tugged his jacket tighter around himself.
"Man, this sucks!" the Scout exclaimed, his voice breaking the quiet of the snowy landscape. "Moving to another base in the middle of a snowstorm? Who thought this was a good idea?"
The Tailor ignored him, his gaze fixed ahead as he scanned the area for anything they might have missed. With the new base nearing completion, the RED team was ordered to ensure nothing was left behind. In his usual military tradition, the Soldier decided to move out simultaneously despite the cold.
Their task was straightforward: search outside the base for forgotten supplies or equipment. The Tailor, however, wasn't thrilled to have the Scout as his partner. The younger man's constant chatter and complaints made an already unpleasant task even more grating.
"I hope the new base has somethin' to keep us warm," the Scout grumbled, his breath puffing out in small clouds. "I swear, my nuts are gonna freeze off out here!"
The Tailor stopped abruptly, spinning on his heel to glare at him. "Scout," he said sharply, his voice cutting through the cold air, "enough with the complaining. We're here to do a job, not to listen to you whine."
The Scout threw up his hands in exasperation. "What? Aren't you cold? I got goosebumps all over, and it's driving me crazy!"
The Tailor rolled his eyes, turning back toward the path. "It's called a natural bodily response. Be grateful I didn't bring my needles with me, or I would sew your mouth shut permanently."
Before the Scout could retort, a faint but piercing scream echoed through the air, followed by a muffled thump in the snow. Both men froze, their heads snapping toward the direction of the sound. The eerie quiet of the snow-covered landscape made the sound even more jarring.
"What the hell was that?" Scout asked, his voice shaky. His bravado from moments ago was replaced with nervous energy as he glanced around. The Tailor didn't answer. Instead, he began walking briskly toward the source of the noise. His sharp eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of movement.
"Oh, you're walkin' off, huh?" the Scout called after him, hurrying to keep up. "Great, leave me hangin'. I guess you're not gonna answer me. Why don't we head back and tell Solly we didn't find anythin'—"
The Scout's voice faded into the background as the Tailor focused, his mind racing with possibilities. The scream had been too human, too urgent to ignore. He had also noticed Archimedes, the Medic's pet dove, flying erratically away from the area. The sight puzzled him after watching Archimedes fly off. Archimedes rarely left the medic bay without reason, except that the Medic left the window open for his doves to have fresh air.
Did someone scare the dove? Or did something else cause this? The scream… didn't sound like anyone from the team. It was high-pitched, almost feminine. Could it have been an intruder? And why was Archimedes outside in the first place?
The Tailor quickened his pace, his boots crunching against the snow. The Scout's nervous chatter faded behind him as his thoughts spiraled. Had someone fallen from a window? That might explain the thump… but there hadn't been any sign of anyone entering the medic bay. If it were an intruder, they would have received a warning from the Administrator. Wouldn't they have reappeared in the respawn room by now if they died from their fall?
The Tailor stopped after arriving at where the thump came from, his sharp eyes scanning for anything out of place. Footprints, spots, maybe a snow angel where the person's body was formerly before being picked up by respawn.
As the Scout chattered away, he accidentally bumped into the Tailor's back. The impact caused Scout to stumble backward and made the Tailor stumble slightly forward. The Tailor's monocle popped off from the jolt, dangling precariously from its chain.
"Yo, why'd ya stop?" Scout asked, his tone confused as he rubbed his nose. "Didja see somethin'?"
"Nein," the Tailor replied curtly, frowning deeply. His patience was already wearing thin from enduring the Scout's endless chatter. Something caught his attention as he retrieved his monocle to place it back over his eye. Midway through adjusting it, the lens reflected a faint glimpse of blue against the snow.
The Tailor froze, narrowing his gaze as he moved his head to focus on the object. His footsteps crunched against the frozen ground as he approached the curious sight. A small blue fabric object was lying partially buried in the snow, its color faintly contrasting against the stark white.
The Tailor tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. At first glance, it looked like one of the Pyro's Barbie doll outfits—but why would the Pyro leave one outside? They never brought their dolls beyond the RED base, preferring to keep them safe indoors.
He knelt, his shadow stretching over the mysterious item. Gently, he began brushing the snow away with careful movements, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. As the last layer of snow fell away, his hands stilled, and his monocle caught the light. This wasn't a doll. It was a tiny human.
The Tailor's eyes widened in shock, his hand instinctively pulling back as though afraid to harm the fragile figure. The tiny being remained mysterious since their suspension lingered until he finally saw the "borrower." The Scout, noticing the Tailor's sudden change in demeanor, stepped closer, his voice a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What? What'd ya find?"
When Scout reached the Tailor's side, his eyes fell on the tiny figure lying motionless in the snow. "Holy crap," the Scout gasped, immediately crouching down and reaching out. "Is that… a person? We gotta grab her—she can't stay out here!"
The Tailor's hand shot out, pressing firmly against the Scout's chest to stop him. "Wait, Scout!" His voice was urgent but steady. "Don't touch her."
The Scout blinked, confused and gesturing toward the tiny figure. "Why not? She's freezing! We gotta—"
"You'll crush her bones or worse," the Tailor interjected firmly, his eyes narrowing. His tone carried a rare sharpness that silenced the Scout instantly. "You can't grab her like she's a doll."
The Scout hesitated, his hands lowering slightly. "Okay, yeah, that's… that's a good point," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
The Tailor turned back to the tiny human, his brow knit with worry. She was so small, so fragile-looking. He hesitated, his gloved hands hovering uncertainly. Could he even hold someone so delicate without hurting her? But leaving her in the snow wasn't an option.
With a steadying breath, the Tailor removed his gloves and carefully reached down. His hands trembled slightly, but he forced himself to move with precision. Gently, he scooped her up, cradling her between his palms like she was made of glass. She was so light in his hands as if he were holding a butterfly. She was so tiny that she was around the height of a pinky finger.
"She's ice cold," the Tailor murmured, his voice almost a whisper.
"Oh my god, oh my god," the Scout muttered, his panic growing as he crouched closer. "She's so tiny! How is she even alive like that?!"
The Tailor ignored him, focusing on the small figure in his hands. As his fingers curled slightly to create a protective barrier, he noticed her lightweight and frail appearance. Her body was far too skinny, her ribs faintly visible under her clothes. The fabric raincoat draped over her was familiar—one of the Pyro's raincoats from the Barbie doll collection he made for the Pyro. It was now worn and torn from a harrowing journey.
Her feet, wrapped in makeshift bandages from the medical kit, were bare and blue-tinted from the cold. She wasn't moving and was only limping around. The Tailor's heart clenched at the sight. He adjusted his hold, ensuring she was secure without applying too much pressure.
"We need to get her inside," the Tailor said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "Now."
The Scout nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, let's move! Medic's gonna have a freakin' field day with this."
As the Tailor rose to his feet, the tiny figure shifted slightly, her breath faint and shallow. He tightened his scarf against the cold wind and carefully cradled her closer to his chest, shielding her from the biting air.
"Hold on, kleine Dame," he murmured, his breath warming the edges of her raincoat. "You're safe now."
With the Scout hurrying ahead to alert the others, the Tailor began returning to the RED base, each step measured and deliberate.
"Come on, ladies!" the Soldier barked, waving his arms as he ushered the team toward the waiting bus. "Move it! We've got a new base to get to!"
The last mercenaries climbed aboard, and the Soldier took a quick headcount before stepping onto the bus himself. He paused, his brows furrowing as he scanned the group. Something wasn't right.
"Where is the Scout and the Tailor?" the Soldier asked, turning to the Engineer, who was adjusting his goggles near the front of the line.
Before the Engineer could respond, a familiar voice echoed through the snow-covered field. "HEY! WAIT FOR US!"
The Soldier turned sharply, spotting the Scout and the Tailor sprinting toward the bus. Their boots kicked up snow with every hurried step.
"About time!" the Soldier growled as they neared, his hands planted firmly on his hips. "What were you two doing? Picking daisies on the sidelines?"
"No, we found someone—" the Scout started, but his words were cut off as the bus driver blared the impatient horn, startling everyone.
The Soldier's expression hardened. "Save it for later!" he barked, reaching out and grabbing the Scout by the arm, dragging him toward the bus. "We're moving now!"
Tailor trailed close behind, clutching something tightly to his chest, his face pale and tense. Soldier's sharp eyes briefly flicked to something small in Tailor's arms but didn't linger. "Get on board!" the Soldier snapped, gesturing to the bus door.
Without a word, the Tailor climbed the steps, his movements careful and deliberate as he shielded the fragile figure in his arms. The Scout followed, muttering about the rough treatment as the Soldier returned to his seat. But neither had time to explain as the bus driver slammed the doors shut, and the engine roared.
As the bus rumbled down the snowy road, the Soldier whipped around in his seat, his gaze locking onto the Tailor. His sharp tone cut through the hum of the engine. "Alright, Tailor. What's that you've got clutched to your chest?"
Before the Tailor could respond, the Scout blurted, "Okay, so remember when we saw that borrower back at the base? Well…" He gestured dramatically to the tiny figure nestled in the Tailor's hands. "That's her!"
The bus erupted into a cacophony of voices as soon as their eyes rested on the tiny human.
"Such tiny woman!" the Heavy exclaimed, his wide eyes fixed on the small figure. The Pyro leaned forward excitedly, resting their chin on the back of the bus seat, muffled coos escaping their mask.
"Fascinating," the Medic murmured, adjusting his glasses as his analytical gaze sharpened. Meanwhile, the Soldier stared blankly, his brain seemingly struggling to reboot.
"Holy dooley!" The Sniper leaned in for a closer look. Beside him, the Demoman squinted at the small figure before glancing at his bottle of scrumpy. His expression seemed to ask, Did I drink too much, or am I seeing things?
Even the Civilian, his bodyguards, and the Janitor exchanged stunned looks, unsure of their reaction to the discovery.
"That's a borrower?!" Madcap exclaimed, pointing toward the tiny human in the Tailor's hands.
"She's not an it!" the Scout snapped defensively, glaring at Madcap.
"Not now, Scout," the Medic interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand. He removed his gloves, his expression serious as he reached out. "Tailor, hand her to me, bitte."
The Tailor hesitated, cradling the tiny figure protectively. After pausing briefly, the Tailor cautiously handed the borrower to the Medic. "Be careful, ja?" he said, his voice soft but firm. "She's unconscious, and I don't know what happened to her."
The Medic nodded. "Of course. Now, let me examine her."
As the Medic carefully accepted the small figure, the Soldier crossed his arms, still skeptical. "What's the story here? How did she end up like that?"
The Tailor gestured toward Archimedes, who sat preening in his cage. "I think Archimedes found her and mistook her for a pest. He probably tried to attack."
The Medic examined the tiny figure closely, noting the damage to her raincoat. "Ja, I see evidence of talon scratches here. But she's so thin…" He gently pressed a finger against her side. "I can feel her ribs. She's malnourished."
The Sniper spoke up, observing from the background. "Makes sense if she's been survivin' out here. Borrowers… they're tough, but it's a hard life."
The Pyro nodded enthusiastically, muffling an excited string of sounds. Heavy patted their head lightly to calm them.
The Medic continued his examination, carefully looking for signs of life. His eyes widened slightly as he pressed a finger to her neck. "She has a heartbeat," he announced. "But it's weak. She's likely suffering from hypothermia."
"Hypo-what now?" the Scout asked, frowning in confusion.
"Hypothermia," the Spy clarified smoothly. "When the body gets too cold for too long. Left untreated, it can be fatal."
The Medic nodded, carefully removing the torn raincoat to check for further injuries. "Her clothing is inadequate for these conditions. She could freeze without proper warmth."
The Pyro rummaged through their bag, triumphantly producing a slim, light-blue dress. They held it up proudly.
"Ja, gut," the Medic approved, carefully slipping the dress onto the tiny figure. His fingers worked delicately to ensure her privacy while he dressed her. He paused momentarily, noticing her undergarments. "Hmph," he murmured to himself. "She looks like someone who has shrunk, not a borrower. Curious."
The Medic dismissed the thought for now, turning back to the group. "She needs gentle warmth to stabilize her. A heat source would harm her at this size."
The Scout brightened. "Why not use our hands? We can take turns warming her up!"
The Medic's eyes lit up. "Brilliant! And the Demoman has the warmest hands on this bus."
The Demoman nearly choked on his scrumpy, lowering the bottle to stare at Medic. "Yer jokin'. You're askin' me, a drunk man, to hold somethin' fragile? What if I drop her?"
"You won't," the Medic said confidently, gesturing toward the Janitor. "He will keep an eye on you."
The Janitor, sitting beside the Demoman, gave him a reassuring nod. "Keep your hands steady. Pretend it's like holding a bug."
"A bug?" the Scout muttered, wrinkling his nose. "What a way to make it worse."
"Then think of it like a hamster," the Janitor replied dryly.
The Demoman hesitated but relented with a muttered, "Fine." He accepted the tiny figure from the Pyro, his hands trembling slightly. "Oh, shite, shite, shite," he muttered under his breath. His large fingers curled protectively around her, and he shot the Janitor a nervous glance. "How long do I hold her like this?"
"Until she wakes up," the Medic replied. "If we stop at a store, we'll get warm liquids for her. For now, keep your hands cupped and steady."
The Demoman sighed, his nerves still frayed, but the warmth radiating from his hands seemed to help. The Janitor placed a steadying hand on the Demoman's to keep him calm.
"You've got this," the Janitor said quietly. "She's safe with you."
The Demoman took a deep breath, his grip steadying as he focused on the tiny figure in his hands. "Alright, lassie," he murmured. "Let's keep ya warm. Hopefully, it won't be too long now."