Deep in the heart of the desert was one very important place to the Team Fortress Industries.

Decoy.

A base so deeply prized by the RED Soldier which was icon for a skill only man was capable of. Lying. The fake HQ was the size of a small town and greatly resembles that of an old Western tale come to life. When RED and BLU are not maliciously fighting they join forces—whether in the same bases or in completely different locations—to stop a foe they all shared. Though…they seemed to prefer being station at completely different bases. At first the day was quiet. No threat had seemed to be afoot—but then the explosions happened.

RED Tracker RECRUITED

Prologue

"INCOMING!"

Wave after wave of mechanical beings flowed from the top most point of the small cliff and scurried the grounds of the pathetic ghost town. Robotic Scouts swarmed in the masses, taking in every single inch like mad ants. And when the RED team successfully cleaned them out another wave commenced. This time Soldiers, aiming their dangerous rocket launchers and shooting down the REDs like small cattle. Without the Heavy keeping them back they would have surely been done for, and with a constant feed of health from the Medic and a never ending supply of ammo thanks to the Engineer the robots had been kept back near the cliff wall. "NO ROBOT CAN PASS!" the thick Russian man boomed in glory. Heavy swings Sasha from side to side, plowing through the hunks of metal as Scout and Spy quickly take out any damaged foes, avoiding any incoming bullets or stray rockets. The Heavy could feel his skin tingle as the rays of health engulfed him.

"ARE YOU READY, DOCOR?"

"Nein! But soon, my Ubercharge iz almost at ONE HUNDRED!" the Medic grinned devilishly—they had been on what seemed to be the last wave. Lately for months they have nearly lost every act of defense. Every one. The reason why was beyond them—perhaps their teamwork was lacking? Regardless, this day felt perfect. No one was going to stop the REDs today! No robot will make them desperate! Engineer had been standing upon the corner of the wall, his shotgun prepared for any strays that turned the corner. For a moment he took the time to scan the pathways above. They were high, clinging against the rocky walls that enveloped the town. Usually Scout bots would sneak through, the bomb mounted upon their backs. A familiar tanned hat caught his eye—the Sniper had taken post there. Sniper gives the man a tilt of the head, ensuring the all clear. That was good. The Engineer felt himself sigh with relief, his gaze scrolling down to spot the Medic before him. The mad doctor had been using the Heavy as a shield from the chaos, a confident grin playing his features. Suddenly a blue light shines upon his face right in the very center of his forehead. The Engineer's jaw drops, "MEDIC, MOVE!" He snaps his head to the side, staring towards a distant bot. Before the Doctor could even retaliate a shot was fired. The bullet goes between his eyes, his body falling down onto the dirt ground. Engineer grips onto his shotgun, "GOD…DAAAAMN IT!"

"What, what is it?" The Heavy questions, irritated. His small eyes gaze down towards the Medic's lifeless body, and his eyes widen. "Oh…" A bullet bounces from his minigun's heavy exterior. On reflex the man raises his arm to cover his bald head, swinging his gun to the side. "SNIPOR!"

At that moment the Scout and Spy stop dead in their tracks, spotting the fallen ally. Scout's hat flies from his head, a bullet zooming and missing him by a hair. "SHIT, DEMO YO GET DOWN HERE!" he calls for the Demoman. He had been upon the bridge, shooting his sticky bombs upon the canyon walls and detonating them. Laughing, he gleefully watches their bodies hit boulders as the sky practically rained metal parts. "YO, DEMO SNAP OUTTA IT!" Quickly his mouth shuts, the man gazing over his shoulder. He hadn't even noticed the second floor was being swarmed by Scout bots. A bat slams against his shoulder, and he curses under his breath. Kicking the bot to the side he takes out his bottle, crashing it over another's head. For a moment it stalls, swaying dizzily, and he takes the opportunity to grab its shoulder and push it over the edge. He stares after it. "THAT'LL HURT IN THA MORNIN'! AAAHAHAHAHHAAA!"

An all too familiar voice came from overhead—the Announcer. "Alert! There are Spies coming!" The Spy takes a moment to pull takes his cigarette and throw it to the side, his butterfly knife now spinning along his thing fingers. He turns his head towards Scout who had just batted down a Solider bot. He watches as the Spy gives him a nod, raising his wrist. "Danger is coming," were his last words before he cloaks himself. "Awe fuck," the Scout nods his head, not being excited at all of what's to come. The sound of Heavy's heavy screaming and Sasha plowing nearby made him jerk down. "FUCK, DEMO C'MON MAN HURRY THE FUCK UP!" That was the man's cue—Demoman was about to turn and make his way down.

A sniper shot roared through the air. The Demoman jerks up, gazing to his left. Another Scout bot had tried to attack him from his blind side. Turning, he gives the Sniper a thumbs up before going on a rampage towards the Scout and Spy's direction. Sniper proceeded to shooting down all Sniper bots first. It was his usual technique, and damn was it helpful. But more and more came. He pulls the trigger, his gun clicking. Empty? No, he hadn't finished his clip. That meant that…

"What in the bloody…it's jammed!" he curses under his breath, punching and slamming against it. Stress and anxiousness welled up in his chest when he notices the overwhelming horde of bots. The Demoman the exited from the building behind Heavy, approaching him. Sniper narrowed his eyes and darted them back to the bride directly above the massacre—Demoman was still up there, slowly making his way down to the Scout. The man curses under his breath; the Demoman behind Heavy was a spy! Finally somewhere in his gun it clicks, and he quickly aims down his sights and shoots down the disguised Spy. It landed with a loud thud, his heart racing and pounding.

"You have killed a Spy!" the Announcer booms, obviously still not much impressed.

The big man down below hadn't even noticed the danger he was in. "Bloody wanka," he sighs. Then a pain overwhelmed his back—a blade twisted deep within his spine, slicing and scraping his precious nerves. A cry of pain escapes his lips, and his teammates gazed up and watched in shock as the Spy bot pulled its knife from his aching flesh, kicking his body over the edge of the walkway and watching as he destroys a row of crates below. Engineer curses, his hand gripping onto his hardhat. He practically jumped from the hard landing. "Sniper!"

"NNOOO!" Aiming Sasha, the Spy bot darts from the incoming flurry of bullets. Heavy roars, his chest rising as he continued to shoot. Scout shoots more bots, realizing he was suddenly becoming outnumbered. His blue eyes glared at Heavy. "YO! BIG GUY THE HELL! WATCH MY BACK!" he snapped, nearly being shot by a shovel just after. A metal fist slams against his side, and his light body slings to the side. The Scout's body rolls along the ground, finally coming to a stop not far from the Heavy and Engineer's location. "Uhh.." he wasn't dead, but his vision had begun to blur. "M…MEDIC!" From the distance he could hear Demoman yelling to him, but they were beyond muffled. Heavy prepared to shoot the unarmed Heavy bot, its fists taunting and ready to finish off Scout. But suddenly it surged and fell over, the Spy uncloaking from behind it, his knife's blade dripping with motor oil. He grunted, quickly approaching the Scout. Aiding him up he drags him behind the small building that sat before their bases entrance, leaning him against the inclined walkway that led to the second level. "Easy there, le Médecin will respawn soon."

"Wha?"

Spy rolled his eyes at his dazed state. "The Medic," he grunts, his accent rich and crisp. Scout grunted, turning his head to the side. He swore he saw the word Roof on the wall. The Announcer spoke again.

"Engineers, look out for that Sentry Buster!" It wasn't long until another explosion. The Spy narrowed his gaze. "Merde, wait here." "Wait, Spy AUGH…shit, my side…." The Scout curses to him a string of hate—he was missing the action. The bastard left him like a worthless dog. This was nothing Scout couldn't take! The pain wasn't bad at all! Standing he jerks his head up, gritting his teeth as he collapses back upon the incline. It was true, the fact that he survived that made him lucky. In no time he saw a white blur approach, his face cringing as the pain grew more and more. "Damn it, HURRY THE FUCK UP!" Scout knew he was the fastest—everyone around him seemed so damn slow. Medic readies his gun, the rays of health tingling the Scout's body. His sides sting painfully, but soon it slowly started so subside. "Took you long 'nough, old man," he coughs.

The Medic ignores his insults. "Vhere are ze others?" He could only watch as Scout began to chuckle painfully as his clutched his left side. "Sniper's ass is still respawnin'. They…They're getting their asses…KICK man…gah, shhhit!" An explosion nearby made the Medic turn his head. A stray Soldier boy turned the corner, launcher ready. Medic hadn't been finished healing the Spy, but he didn't have the time. Quickly he draws out his syringe gun and opens fire, Scout desperately reaching for his pistol.

"Alert! A tank has entered the arena!"

All heads turn to the farthest point of the map—deep within the cave, below the sign that read 'Danger' birthed a tank. And though the Sniper spawned and they had all been in the arena the tank had reached the base. The members had fought back bots, slammed and shot the tank's strong exterior with all of their might. Scout?

Scout watched. Irritated. Pissed. He had been firing his pistol from a distance but ammo ran dry quicker than the desert lost water. No crates were near him, and he could barely move. "FUCK!" he screamed, raising his arm over his head and hurdles the pistol towards the base. It falls deep within the trench, not even making it. "…GGGRRAH!" An explosion made the Scout jump, his shoulders dropping at the scene.

"That's it! That's the last of them! Try to do it more professionally next time—that is if I give you one."

With that the REDs returned to their main base, leaving the arena completely empty. The Administrator, like a hawk, kept a watchful eye on both teams. Their whereabouts, progress, and everything else they could imagine was her job. Dusting off her purple suit she snaps her head at the monitors, watch team RED making their way about the base now, dirty and exhausted. Disgusting. Disgraceful.

She could practically spit at the screen. "Such, terrible performance."

"How do you plan on revitalizing their stats?" She sighed for a moment before speaking again. "Well Ms. Pauling, I have been pondering on that for too long. Unfortunately, the best course of action may have to…bend the rules I so rightfully set." Her assistant watched as the woman stood and began to stalk around the room. "…what is one of the most important rules that our mercenaries but abide by, Ms. Pauling?"

"Bonding is one, ma'am."

The woman chuckles. "Yes, Friendships are in direct contravention of the mercenary conduct…doing so will go against their contracts. Which is why, of course, there are no woman allowed." Ms. Pauling felt her arms become tense. "Ma'am, you're not saying…?" "I know, dire is it not? I would hate to succumb to such a level but the despondent fool was a perfect too-be solider. Youthful, absolutely no plans for a pursuit for education and success…yes, a lonely individual who lives a wretched life with nowhere else to go. Seems perfect…though there is just one problem."

"The teams will be uneven?"

"No, no, no they're practically uneven as it is did you not see the charts?" she laughs lowly.

"Then what is?"

"Well, if the soul has nothing to gain then it has nothing to lose. I'm worried we might not have a tight…chain on her. What say you, Ms. Pauling? Either way I have the final say," she took a deep breath, her lips pressed against the cigarette. Ms. Pauling simply held onto her clipboard, blinking as if she couldn't believe the woman asked for her opinion like it mattered. "Well, ma'am. I would say trust your instincts." "Hmm…" the Administrator simply sighed, not very satisfied with the answer. Ms. Pauling stared at her through the cloud of smoke before finally asking yet again another question, "Well, where are they residing?" After a long sigh her boss had finally answered.

"Detroit."