Hi, guys!

First fanfiction I've written in a long time, I know. So really, I'd just like to go ahead and warn y'all now not to expect too much from me. I know the size of just the first chapter might look like a lot, but it's probably not all that impressive content-wise. I'm trying, but I'm just not that good.

I was a little apprehensive to post this, since not only am I not very confident in my writing skills, I'm also just afraid to start another project with good potential and bail out within the first couple of chapters. I'll probably do it anyway, but... Maybe I can pull through this one if somebody stays on my back about it, since this story is one I'd really like to get out to the TF2 fandom. I've been thinking about bits and pieces of it for awhile now, and think I might've come up with something good. ;)

I hope everyone enjoys my adventurous steps back into the world of fanfiction!

Oh, wait...

First, disclaimer time, even though I do believe it's fairly obvious that I don't own TF2 or anything related to it except my fanfictions/fanarts. If I did, Sniper would have actually gotten new lines in the recent updates. c':

Team Fortress 2 and All Official Content © Valve

"Mission begins in thirty seconds," rang out an ever-condescending voice that was all too familiar to the men fidgeting about inside their respective bases. Inside the BLU base, Scout was bouncing back and forth in place, pumping himself up to capture the REDs' Intel; at the same time, Engineer was double-checking his toolbox for any missing supplies, Soldier was trying to pack any extra rockets he could into his already-cramped ammo pouch, and Demoman was taking a good, long swig of his beloved scrumpy, partly attempting to rid himself of yesterday's hangover. The RED base wasn't much different.

"Mission begins in ten seconds." The last-minute preparations stopped and every man braced himself for the stampede out of the respawn room.

"Five. Four. Three. Two. One!" With the end of the final countdown, the round-starting siren screeched, its howl permeating every nook and cranny of Teufort, piercing the men's eardrums as they rushed to their standard positions and went forward with traditional strategies. Heavy, Soldier, Medic, Pyro, and Demoman all charged at the enemy team in a full-frontal assault; Scout leapt onto the bridge and sped directly into the enemy base; Spy slunk down into the sewers and crossed over behind the enemy lines unseen; Sniper perched at the center of the top walkway, picking off the REDs one by one; and Engineer ran to the Intel room and set up his machinery, ready to defend his employer's secrets.

The battle went without much of anything particularly interesting happening, as had become the norm lately. BLU stole the Intel at times, other times RED managed to succeed; everyone died on occasion, but they respawned without fail; mixing strategies halfway through the match did little to ease the feeling everyone had of merely going through the motions, and this was something the Administrator picked up on as she kept a keen eye on all of her mercenaries.

She took note of everyone's sub-par performance, which had started to appear on every battlefield: everyone tended to die more and kill less, although the general outcomes of matches were the same as they always were: all in all a fairly even win-to-lose ratio for both teams. She could tell their boredom was rising by the day and had the feeling that they would soon be requesting a raise.

This troubled her.

The incredibly generous wages the mercenaries were paid to mindlessly kill each other almost every day was, for TF Industries, usually not even a small scratch in the company's revenue, and even large raises were no trouble at all. But for reasons the Administrator was unable to fathom, it had recently seen a decline in profits over the past few months (perhaps the Soldier's theory that hippies were going to take over the world was right, at least to a certain degree), and while the black ink hadn't turned red yet, it was only a matter of time before it did at the current rate.

While still intently watching the various monitors and sending out commands and warnings as needed, she weighed her options if questions of wages were brought up at the next video conferences, which were to take place the next night. If she agreed to increase their wages significantly, the price would eventually cause TFi to go bankrupt, and they would likely strike until they could be paid again, or they might even come for her directly. If she refused to increase their wages, the unpredictable nature of her mercenaries could come back to bite her just the same. Either way, she was not in a particularly enjoyable situation, and she scowled at the monitors as the gears in her scheming head turned.

BLU Scout madly dashed over the top of the center bridge, the RED Intel strapped to his back with its precious contents flowing out behind him and relentlessly marking his trail. He leapt over the large gap at the end of the bridge and ungracefully landed on the relative safety of the BLU walkway, nearly falling on his face but managing to right himself just in time. He turned to see the RED Pyro that had chased him out standing on the RED walkway, doubled-over and presumably panting.

"Ha! Can't even make it on da bridge, can ya?" taunted the cocky Bostonian from across the battlefield. "Ya freakin' mute moron!" Pyro stood up straight and turned back into his own base, but not before sending a quite visible middle finger at Scout.

"Scout, ya know it ain't wise to piss off the enemy Pyro, right?" Sniper said as he walked past his younger teammate.

"You know he's too slow ta catch me! Everyone in dis damn place is," boasted Scout with his chest pridefully puffed out as he strolled next to Sniper. "I am the 'epit-tome' of speed," he added, impressed with his new vocabulary word he had found the week before.

"Right," the Australian sarcastically replied with a roll of his eyes and an adjustment of his aviators. "Then why do I seem to remember you holding the record for most deaths in a single match for the longest time, until ya broke your own record by about ten deaths?"

At that, Scout's chest deflated and he stopped in his tracks. He held his finger up and opened his mouth as if to say something, but couldn't think of anything and his hand slowly fell.

"Oh, and it's 'epitome', mate." Sniper chuckled and went inside respawn to refill his ammo, leaving Scout outside staring at the door.

"I knew dat. And about da record, dat… Dat's because I, uh… let 'em shoot me! Yeah, yeah! Gotta let 'em feel good about demselves sometimes, right?" the boy said to the door. Whether Sniper actually heard him, he didn't know.

"Scout!" barked a loud, gravelly voice from behind him. He jumped in surprise and quickly turned with his scattergun aimed in front of him only to find himself face-to-face with none other than Soldier. "Great."

"Just what are you doing standing around in the open with the enemy's Intelligence?! Asking the door for directions?!" the man yelled, his face mere inches from Scout's and spit sprinkling from his gaping mouth.

"Dude, calm da fuck down! Sniper, uh, distracted me with, uh, talkin' about records an' stuff!" Scout had completely forgotten that he had the Intel, and figured it was just his luck to run into Soldier of all people when he had a job to do and wasn't doing it.

The door behind them promptly rolled up and the aforementioned Australian leisurely stepped outside and around the pair, heading back towards his perch. They watched him, and it wasn't long after he round the corner that a rifle shot was heard accompanied by their companion's dying scream.

"Well, Sniper won't be distracting you for a while now, so get your skinny little ass in gear, and cap that Intel before I do it myself! Do I make myself clear, private?!" Soldier had gradually worked himself over Scout until he was practically on top of him, and his menacing presence gave Scout all the more incentive to nod quickly and visibly. With his point across, Soldier replaced his rocket launcher on his shoulder and tromped back to the battle.

"Geeze, everyone in dis place needs ta fuckin' chill out. Especially Major Malfunction," Scout grumbled as he adjusted the strap on his satchel and made off for his team's Intel room.

The battle at Teufort was over, the BLUs had won, and everyone had gone back to their respective home bases to rest and resupply for the next day. At BLU's headquarters, dinner had already been served and eaten, but no one was ready to sleep just yet. Rather, almost everyone hung out in the living room, not much for living up to its name with its rather bare interior, and killed time.

"You know it's your turn, right mate?" Sniper asked as he waited on Heavy to make his move in their ever-lengthening game of chess.

"Da," the Russian replied in his deep, accented voice. "I am thinking." He was scratching his chin and staring intently at the board, somewhat confirming his statement, but Sniper couldn't help but sigh and slump over a little in his chair. "This move is being hard decision."

"Just let me know when you're done, alright?" he said as he pulled his hat over his head and proceeded to nap.

"Heavy, I zhought you vere good at chess," said Medic, not looking up from the book he was reading. "You've beaten me und Spy many times before. Even Engineer on occasion."

"I know this. And I will win this game too. Is just, there are so many moves I could make here that would win game, but I do not know which one to pick." Sniper lifted up his hat and stared at Heavy for a moment with a rather indecipherable expression, but then returned to his nap with a shake of his head.

"And here I almost zhought we might have had a new chess champion," mocked Spy as he lit himself a new cigarette.

"Piss off, Spy," Sniper shot back, not moving from his position in the slightest.

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser, bushman."

"You two should really stop fightin' like an old married couple. People's gonna get ideas," Scout said with a chuckle. Spy and Sniper were obviously not amused.

"Don't even joke like zhat, boy."

"For once, I agree with the spook."

"Sheesh. Nobody can take a joke around here, can dey?" Scout left the group to join Pyro in front of the television. He sat next to the firebug and they stared at the static on the screen together. "Yep. Best reception eva, right?" Pyro nodded in agreement, and Scout couldn't tell if he was just staring out of boredom like himself or genuinely interested. Frankly, he didn't even care.

"You boys really that bored?" asked Engineer from the couch as he fiddled with an unrecognizable piece of machinery.

"Mmm-hmm," replied Scout.

"You two sure there ain't nothin' at all to do?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Aw, I'm sure there's something y'all can do. Ya might not wanna do it, but you can still do it. Should help cure that boredom."

"Are you, like, tryin' ta tell me ta do chores or somethin'?"

"Kinda, yeah. When was the last time you took out the trash? It's gettin' kinda piled up."

"Been awhile, an' I ain't plannin' on doin' it anytime soon, either. So sorry, pal. Get Pyro ta do it."

"Actually, Pyro does most of the chores around here. Plenty more than you do, anyways." At that, Scout jumped up and stood threateningly in front of the Texan.

"Ya tryin' ta say somethin', Engie?"

"Maybe I am," he calmly replied without even looking up from his tinkering.

"Ya callin' me lazy or somethin'?"

"Sure, we'll go with that."

"Well, I'll show you lazy, ya lazy bum!" Scout then rushed out the door to find the nearest trashcan to empty. He had to prove Engineer wrong on his insult, or else he'd never be able to let it go. And admittedly, he was slightly relieved to have found something to do. Taking out the trash was a little bit better than pointlessly staring at static.

"You're really gonna have to tell me how ya do that, Truckie," Sniper said in a surprised tone.

"Just a little bit o' reverse psychology, Stretch," Engineer answered with a light smirk, still tinkering with his metal treasure.

"Alright, everyvone. Lights out," called Medic at exactly ten-thirty. Most everyone was still in the living room and heard his announcement, but there were two people unaccounted for. After saying his good-nights to all but Heavy, his assistant when it came to this nightly task, the pair set out to find the missing mercenaries and they both had a fairly good idea of where they were. They made their way to the back porch of the base and sure enough found Soldier and Demoman drunk out of their minds, as was their ritual.

"I still do not know vhy you two insist on getting so drunk every night," Medic scolded as he picked up the bottles of alcohol Soldier and Demoman had been drinking and dropped them in the nearby trash bin.

"Because, laddie-hic-it's our secret to-hic-success…!" Demoman managed to slur out before collapsing out of his chair and onto the floor.

"Yeah…-burp-What Cyclops said," chimed in Soldier as best as he could while groping the air where his missing bottle previously was.

"Come on, Heavy. Let's get zhem to bed," Medic said with a tired sigh.

"I am wondering if it is not best to leave them here from now on," the Russian joked as he helped Demoman off the floor, making sure not to rough the Scot up too much; he most certainly would not enjoy going to sleep if he had recently been vomited on. "If they do this every night, perhaps they wish to sleep outside in cold. Take shelter in bushes. Heheh."

"Vhile I vould love to take you up on your offer, Heavy, I am afraid zhe Administrator vould have mein head for alloving her mercenaries to fall ill," Medic replied, chuckling. Heavy responded with a lighthearted shrug.

"Eh. You will respawn."

"Zhen she vould do somezhing much vorse zhan killing me."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, but zhat voman vould find somezhing." They both snickered at their boss's rather unforgiving nature and continued on their way.

They slowly but surely traversed the hallways of their headquarters and managed to make it up the stairs to the bedroom hall without trouble. The drunken mercenaries were taken to their respective rooms and left to change on their own, which Medic knew they were highly unlikely to manage to do, but he couldn't be bothered to care. He was tired and had done enough for them that day.

The pair exchanged sleepy good-nights and Heavy went into his room on the hall while Medic traveled back down the stairs and into the Med-Bay where his own room was. As he opened the door to his office, he was greeted by a familiar furry, white ball on his right foot, and he stooped to pick it up.

"Oh, hello zhere, Socrates," he crooned as he cuddled his favorite pet rat. Socrates squeaked happily as his owner scratched him behind his ear, and the rat rubbed up against him in a show of affection.

Medic closed the door behind him and moved around his perpetually cluttered desk, barely missing its corner in the dark. He passed by the short hallway on his left that led to the waiting room with the operating room and recovery room at the farthest end, and stepped inside his bedroom. It was just as cluttered as his desk, the organized chaos spreading from one end of the room to the opposite, and there were several more fur balls lazing about wherever they found space.

"Schön dich zu sehen," Medic greeted his pets as he set his closest companion down in his shelter along with two others. "I take it everyzhing has been good und vell in mein room?" He found the bag of food he had prepared for them and poured a sufficient amount into the large bowl that sat inside the cage as the white rodents hurried to get their share.

"Don't fight meine freunde. Zhere is enough food for everyvone." He picked up their nearly empty water bottle and filled it up at the sink in his small bathroom, quickly replacing it. He gave each of his friends a quick scratch and closed their shelter up for the night before changing into his favorite pajamas and collapsing on the bed, falling asleep within minutes.

"Miss Pauling. How is the 'project' going?" the Administrator asked as she put out her previous cigarette and pulled out a new one. Her cold, calculating stare seemed to easily read right into the younger woman's soul, but she had become somewhat accustomed to it by now and didn't falter.

"Everything is going smoothly. The team has made the necessary changes to the samples you've given them and are ready to move on to the growth stage," she explained to her employer in the most efficient way she could.

"Good. I'm almost impressed with the promptness so far. Tell me when this phase is complete. I want to see the results with my own eyes," she commanded with her usual superior air before turning in her chair to resume her relentless watch. "You are excused."

Miss Pauling nodded respectfully and quickly left her employer's foreboding, smoke-filled office, glad to see the bright and relatively cheery light of the hallway once again. It was too early in the morning to be sent into that dreaded room, even if only for a brief moment.

"Good mornin', fellas. I'm glad to see everyone's all bright and chipper today," Engineer said jokingly as he noted his teammates' half-asleep demeanors as they sat at the dining table lazily eating any remaining breakfast on their plates. He turned towards the box mounted on the wall behind him and waited a brief moment as the box came to life with a whir and printed out a small note. He took the note and skimmed it before turning back to the team.

"Today's match is at Dustbowl."

"Man, really? God, Dustbowl is so old!" Scout exclaimed in a rather childish show of disappointment that was only made all the more juvenile by his pronounced pouting.

"Son, I don't decide where we fight. The Administrator does, so if you'd like to take that up with her, be my guest."

He placed the note in the file kept on the shelf directly beneath the box, then took his dishes from his spot at the table and placed them in the tub next to the sink. Most of the others followed suit, leaving only Scout, Demoman, and Soldier sitting at the table. Scout was still shamelessly pouting about having to fight on a boring battlefield while the two hungover mercenaries had just about fallen back asleep, with Demoman slumped over in his chair and Soldier with his face lying in his scraps.

"Come on, mates. Ya gotta get up sometime," Sniper said as he shook Demoman's shoulder and pulled Soldier's head off of his plate by the scruff of his jacket. "Up ya go." They slowly came to and placed their dishes in the tub with everyone else's, but not without sleepily arguing over who got the last sip of alcohol.

"Scout, that means you too, son," Engineer added, patting Scout on the head like a puppy. Scout didn't approve of that treatment, however, and swatted away Engineer's hand, making his irritation known.

"Yo, I'm not a little kid or whatever."

"You might not physically be a kid, but you sure are actin' like one. And I've had enough of it for right now, so you just go and get yourself ready."

"You're not my Pa, so stop tryin' ta tell me what ta do, ya fuckin' redneck!" Sniper watched as Engineer's face grew darker somehow and he began to get nervous.

"Son, if I was your Pa, I would'a done beat you up an' down the hall all the way to the station by now for what you just said. In fact, I got a right mind to do it anyway, so boy, you'd best get outta my sights 'fore I go through with it." Sniper could see that Scout was about to do or say something he'd regret, so he quickly jumped in between them before the confrontation could escalate any further.

"Scout, I think you should really just do what he says. It'll make things a whole lot easier for everyone involved." Without waiting for an answer from the Bostonian, he pushed him in the direction of the supply room, making sure to put him out the door. He was glad when Scout didn't fight back too much and went on his way.

"God, that boy is hopeless," Engineer sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Sniper grabbed Scout's dishes and made the last contribution to the dish tub that morning.

"I guess we really can't do much to change him."

"Was he always this bad, though?" Engineer tried to remember back to when the team had first met, a little over a year ago.

"I can't really pick a yes or no on that one. I suppose he was just as bad, but in a… different way," Sniper considered as they walked together towards the resupply room.

"How exactly?"

"He was annoyin' as hell. Always way too hyper, couldn't fathom personal boundaries, never stopped talkin'… The list really goes on."

"And now he's always rude, irritated, and… Bored," concluded Engineer.

"Heh. Aren't we all? Bored, I mean."

"Well, maybe that's his problem. Maybe this is how he acts when he's bored for too long."

"Hm. Now that ya mention it, most everyone seems a little touchier lately. And I'm includin' meself in that."

"Maybe we really should talk to the Administrator about this at the video conference tonight. I mean, I can't really take much more of Scout behavin' the way he is, and admittedly somethin' new would be appreciated by everyone, I think."

"Hey, if we can't get somethin' new like a battlefield, then perhaps raises would be to everyone's agreement? I know I wouldn't mind getting' more motivation to keep doin' what I'm doin'."

"Yeah, I think that'll satisfy. Good thinkin', Stretch."

"Ah, no problem, Truckie."

They reached the resupply room, an otherwise bland room filled with cabinets and shelves of weapons and ammunition haphazardly separated by owner, and found everyone else collecting their equipment for the day's match. It didn't take long for the group to gather everything they needed, and they all headed for the station, as they called it, together.

The station was a large room with the walls covered in computers, filing cabinets, and film rolls. On the left side of the room, a great cabinet stored the sensitive machinery that worked the vital respawn system, and in the center of the room were two large teleporters, an entrance and an exit, whirring excitedly with blue light from their rapidly-spinning arms. The teleporters were large enough that the entire team could fit together on one to be teleported all at once, and they were controlled by a computer directly in front of them.

The BLUs stepped onto the entrance teleporter as Engineer set the destination as Dustbowl and started the countdown for teleportation to commence. After a minute had passed, they found themselves no longer inside their headquarters and instead inside the underground BLU base for the first stage of Dustbowl. It wasn't long before the Administrator's voice rang loud and
clear in their heads for the first, but certainly not last, time that day.

"Mission begins in sixty seconds." The day had officially begun.

Tanslation Note (I really don't know if this is correct, though. I only have Google Translate as a reference, so if this or any other foreign words/phrases in the story are incorrect, then please do tell me!) -

"Schön dich zu sehen" = "Good to see you"

OK, so I know this first chapter might seem boring and unrelevant to the overarching plot, but trust me. Once some characters are introduced (and some are taken away), I think the story will pick up. However, there might be several more of these "filler" chapters, since I'm trying to really work in details of all the official characters' backstories and extra-mercenary relationships, and also just tell the stories of everyone's lives as mercs over the next three years or so. There will be battles, there will be vacations, there will be celebrations, and there will be just regular, everyday hanging-around-the-base in addition to the "important" stuff. You might say I'm just trying to drag this out, but I really just want to explore the characters this way. It could either be a horrendous disaster, or it could be a positively magnificent stroke of genius. You never know.

I'm focusing a lot on BLU team at the moment, but that's because throughout the story, most of the more important characters kinda wound up being BLU, meaning that most of the major events occur BLU-centric. I do plan on shifting over to RED every now and again, and eventually writing about all the mercs in general. Just bear with me.

Well, that's all I can think of for right now, so... Here's to hopefully finishing the next chapter! c':