"The sky's lookin' real nice today," an Australian man said. He tipped back his hat to get a better look at the perfectly inflated clouds slinking through the blue sky. The man scratched his head for a minute before pulling the hat back down and smiling to another man beside him. "Beautiful day for killin' all those wankas."

"Sure is, partner," a shorter man said, his voice betraying his Texan heritage. He beat a large wrench in his hand, as though he were ready for a beating.

The Australian turned to the Southern man and asked, "You hear 'bout the new kid?"

"Can't say I have."

"We got'a new Scout," he said. "Fresh outta trainin', too."

The man started chuckling, "Looks like he's in fer one helluva day."

"If he survives, that is."

The two both started laughing to themselves.

A voice crackled over the P.A. system. "Mission begins in 30 seconds."

"Best be gettin' ready. Good luck, mate," the Australian said and lifted a sniper rifle into his arms. Then he turned and walked out to his sniper's nest. The Texan smiled and pulled out a set of blueprints with the words "Sentry Gun" in the bottom corner.

"I don't get it! What's this mission everyone's talkin' about?" a Boston kid said. He threw out his hands to his sides, his bandaged palms facing upwards to display his confusion.

"You see this here briefcase?" a man shouted at him, a heavy soldier's helmet covering his eyes. "We gotta protect it and keep it out of the enemy's hands! Thing is, we also want the enemy's briefcase! You understand now, maggot?"

"Yeah, yeah! I get it. But who's the sorry loser who has to get their briefcase?" the kid asked.

"That would be you!"

"What? I haven't even been here one day!"

"That's how things work around here, private!"

"Aw man! I can't believe it!" The kid took off his baseball cap and was about to throw it down until the soldier shouted at him.

"You want to get payed, don't ya?"

The kid sighed. "Yeah..."

"Then you better get out there and start killin' the enemy!"

"Oh yeah. I'll bash in more than a few heads out there...!" A new enthusiasm was in the Boston kid's voice as he replaced his hat and pickled up a metal bat off the desk. As he started to leave the intelligence room, he turned back to the soldier and shouted, "At least I'll actually be doing something useful!" He laughed and ran out of the room at a speed the soldier could never keep up with.

"Oh great!" A Frenchman wearing a ski-mask complained. A black man wearing a beanie and an eye-patch had his arm slung over the other's shoulders and was smiling.

"Are ya ready ta blow up soom BLU's ta'day?" the man said with a thick, Scottish accent. He laughed loudly and took a swig of scrumpy.

"God, your breath stinks! Do you really have to drink so early in ze morning?" The Frenchman turned his head away from the Scottsman.

"Ta'day's a good day, lad! And me scrumpy only makes it bettah!" He took another swig and released the man.

The Frenchman fixed his tie and tugged the sleeves of his pinstriped suit, straightening them out. "Don't touch me again, you reek of cheap beer!"

"Like yer fancy French wine tastes any bettah!"

"Zhat is only because you lost your sense of taste drinking zhat cheap beer."

"Losing mah eye made mah sense oof taste twice as good! You ain't got noothin' on meh!"

"Of course not..." the other man said in annoyance. He finally turned and left the locker room, lighting up a cigarette to block out of the smell of the Scotsman's brew.

"You ready, tiny medic?" a massive, Russian man holding an equally massive minigun said.

"Ja. Mein übercharge is almost full, too!" A German in a white doctor's coat replied.

The bald Russian pulled his minigun up and hugged the barrel. "Sasha always loves mowing down those leetul babies."

The doctor shook his head, smiling, and continued using his medigun on the Russian. "I sure hope ze BLU team can actually defend zemselves zis time."

"Maybe they go on offensive this time. Cowards!" The large man bellowed in laughter. The Germa couldn't help but join in.

They laughed for a moment before the announcer crackled over the P.A. system again. "Mission begins in 10 seconds."

"Hear that, medic?" the Russian asked.

"You ready, mein giant friend?"

"Yes! I love this job!"

"Mission begins in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1!"

The Russian man began spinning his minigun and smiling as he stepped outside the RED base, followed closely by the German.