1:18 PM
SOMEWHERE, NEW MEXICO

"I can't believe you've never driven before."

"Never really got the chance," Scout shrugged, "Family and I was always kinda poor as shit, couldn't afford it. Bummed rides off pals, took the bus… that kind 'a stuff- woah"

Engineer's hand shot out and steadied the steering wheel with a firm hand, guiding the truck back into the right lane. He had just let go of the wheel when Scout managed to drive over a rock on the road. The whole truck shook and there was a worrying, metallic clang from somewhere in the truck bed. The Texan was willing to admit that his truck wasn't new, and hadn't been for a long time, but at the very least he considered it a reliable, old friend. Close to him as any of his teammates. Closer depending on the man.

So naturally when Scout's youthful confidence in driving through a desert highway devoid of people to hit began to falter, Engineer figured it was simply nerves that were causing the truck to gradually speed up and swerve.

"You gotta slow down, Scout. Jus' cause there ain't nobody to come pull ya over for speedin' don't mean yer not drivin' awful dangerous…"

"Uh, Engie? It ain't my fault. My foot's on the brakes. I don't think they're workin'…"

Before Engineer could react, there was a groan of metal and, with a loud boom, the hood sprung up in a cloud of smoke. Scout yelped and let go of the wheel, opting to shield his eyes while Engineer scrambled to take his place, straining against the seatbelt as he grabbed the steering wheel.

"The brakes, Scout! The brakes!" he yelled.

"I just said they don't fuckin' work, man!" Scout yelled back as Engineer pulled the truck off the road and into the dirt. The truck struck another rock and, as one side lifted off the ground, both of the men in the vehicle could swear their hearts skipped a handful of beats. Luckily, the truck unceremoniously righted itself with a heavy bounce that caused Engineer and Scout to bang heads.

Scout reeled back, clutching his head. As soon as he opened his eyes, he instantly shut them again. The truck was on a collision course towards one of the many skeletons of shacks that lined the highway.

"Oh SHIT!" Scout tossed his arms over his eyes as if it would protect him from impending harm.

"What?" clinging to the dashboard, Engineer eased himself off of the younger driver's lap and immediately regretted his decision.

The truck rammed into the shack, wrenching Engineer off the seats, snapping his seatbelt in the process while Scout smacked his head against the steering wheel. An earsplitting screech danced through their heads as a wire fence caught on the driver's side door and dragged. Dry, rotting wood battered the windshield as the truck finally stopped with a thud.

The men inside lay there for some time, disoriented as all hell and unsure of whether or not they were still alive. Then, Scout pulled himself away from the steering wheel, rubbing his stinging forehead.

"Fuck…" he whimpered. He drew his hand away from his forehead to find blood smeared across his fingers.

Pulling himself out of the tight space between the seats and the dashboard, Engineer looked to Scout and then pawed open the door.

"Turn the car off, boy. No need to start a fire," he said.

Scout obliged with shaky hands and exited the car at the same time as his teammate.

"Fuck…" Scout repeated himself as he looked at the entirety of the wrecked truck lodged into the abandoned shack.

As much as he wanted to be mad at the young man, all Engineer could do was marvel at how utterly wrecked his pride and joy was.

"Well," he managed, hands on his hips and eyes wide in stupor.

"Look, Engie. I'm really sorry-" Scout began.

"As ya should be, but it ain't completely yer fault," Engineer interrupted, tracing his gloved gunslinger over the ruined hood that hung over the engine by a single hinge, "This ain't that bad, heck, I could prolly fix it up good as new- maybe even better! I just need to get my…"

Engineer talked as he walked over to the truck bed only to find the tailgate hanging open, the luggage that had been contained in it long gone.

"…toolbox."

"Uhh, Engie?" Scout asked as he watched Engineer's hands draw into fists.

"Get in to the truck for a sec, will ya? And close the doors," the Bostonian did as he was told in fearful awe of the rageful quiver in Engineer's tone.

What happened next could be described as comical, if Scout hadn't developed a fear of the Texan's temper right then and there. Scout's bleeding forehead began to get unbearable and he undid the wrappings on his right hand so he could use them to mop up the blood on his forehead. He didn't take his eyes off his fellow RED.

Engineer stomped around outside shouting muffled profanities that could have made a sailor balk and kicking up cloud after cloud of dirt. After two or so minutes, the short man finally burned out and fell on his behind in the dirt, his sour expression remaining. Scout carefully opened the door, wincing when something by the engine went 'clunk'.

"Hey Engie?"

He didn't speak for some time, but just as Scout opened his mouth to ask again, he answered.

"Sorry, boy. Y-Ya didn't need to see that."

"It's cool. I was just gonna say… it's a bit cooler in here. In the truck…"

"Alright, I'm comin'. Do we still have any drinks or did we lose 'em?" Engineer got to his feet and got into the passenger seat, shoulders slumped. Scout searched his feet and the dashboard for their lunch sacks, realizing that he had tossed them in the back before insisting that he try driving.

"Lost 'em…" Scout muttered, turning over his wrappings. "What do we do now?"

"I dunno…" Engineer shrugged.

Overhead, the sun bore down on the parched land like a white-hot eye.

It was about an hour later when salvation finally came their way in a little white Volkswagen. There was a squeak of tires as the remarkably clean car pulled to the side of the road, just behind the wrecked truck. Curious, Scout cranked down the window and poked his head out into the hot afternoon sun, craning his neck so he could see the newcomer.

It was a woman, and a pretty woman at that.

She had shoulder-length brown hair, curled at the ends and wore a powder blue dress with a pearl necklace. Truth be told, she didn't look like she belonged in the middle of dusty nowhere at all.

"C-Can I help ya, ma'am?" Scout asked, swatting off his hat.

"Can I help you?" there was a bounce in her step as she approached the truck, her sparkling cleanliness so out of place in the burning desert that she seemed more like a mirage than an actual person. For some reason, it put Engineer on guard as he silently watched the exchange from the passenger seat. Scout, however, was blissfully unaware of whatever strange vibes the woman might be giving off.

"Hell yeah you can!" Scout almost banged his already injured head on the ceiling as he fumbled with the door handle, "You're like a savin' grace, lady! We thought we were dead out he-yee!"

"No we didn't," Engineer hissed, pulling the Bostonian back into the car by the back of his shirt.

"I did," Scout hissed back, wrenching his shirt out of Engineer's grasp. "Lay off, will ya? Maybe she can help!"

"…I guess yer right," Engineer sat back. He shouldn't have lashed out the way he did, but there was just this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that urged him to be cautious of the woman that now lurke-stood beside the door. "Just… Just behave yerself, will ya?"

Scout didn't reply, but instead turned back to the woman.

"Sorry 'bout that," he laughed, "this ol' man's just kinda crazy, 's all."

"Crazy?" Engineer repeated incredulously, but went ignored.

"It's no problem at all," the woman chuckled, "Where are you guys coming from?"

"Teufort. Uh, the town Teufort, not any secret bases or anythin', just the town. Yeah." Engineer shot Scout a disapproving glare as he ran his mouth off.

"Oh, I've heard of that place. Is it nice?"

"It's… it's nice enough. But what I wanna know is where's a pretty-lookin' girl like you comin' from?" Scout asked. The woman giggled at the shameless compliment while Engineer rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I was visiting this little city just about two hours out. Normally I don't even have to leave my own town, Creekfield, but I just couldn't find this one fabric I needed. I'm actually on my way home right now!"

"Is Creekfield near here?" Engineer asked. He couldn't remember any towns by the name of Creekfield, but decided to take the woman's word. It was probably another one of those cookie-cutter developments that seemed to spring up overnight.

"Yes, it's just about an hour from here," she shifted her weight from one glossy high heel to the other, "Would you boys like to come with me? We've got a mechanic who wouldn't mind coming out and taking a look at your truck at all!"

"Thank you for the offer, but our frien-" Engineer was about to decline when Scout once again eclipsed his view of the woman, practically jumping out of the driver's side window.

"Of course we'd like to! C'mon, Engie, she can help!"

Engineer looked from Scout to the newcomer. The others wouldn't notice their absence for at least a day, and it'd be foolish to try and walk to the nearest town when here stood a ride that would get them there and save them hours of trouble.

"You sure yer town mechanic'll be able to find this ol' girl?"

"Definitely! In fact, I bet he could get it fixed up for you by morning if you're willing to stay!"

Engineer thought for a while, then nodded to Scout who struggled to contain his excitement as he got out of the busted truck.

"Awright, fine. We'll go with ya so long as you tell us yer name, first."

The woman smiled as they got into her car.

"Fair enough. You can call me Joanna."

5:56 AM
DOUBLECROSS, CALIFORNIA

It was in the dim violet mist of the morning that the boom of a shotgun roused every member of RED from their beds, pulling on pants and clambering for the closest firearm.

All but two, anyways.

Six now very wide awake men hurried to the source of the shot, the mess hall, only to arrive at a scene that had become disturbingly common since their employment at RED.

On the linoleum lay a man in a nondescript trench coat, the upper half of his head blown clean off in a gory spray across the already stained floor. As if completely oblivious to the mess, Soldier sat in a chair at the table, engrossed in the morning paper and a mug of coffee. Leaning against the table was a still smoking shot gun.

Noticing the presence of his teammates, Soldier looked up, his loose helmet following his movement.

"Only a coward sneaks up on a man before he's had his morning cup of joe," the American stated, curt as ever before turning back to the latest news on the election.

"You're supposed to ask questions before you shoot and wake the whole bloody base, ya dimwit," Demoman groaned before shuffling into the kitchen and stepping over the dead body.

"I prefer to shoot first, ask questions later," Soldier responded and took a long sip of his coffee. One by one, the members of RED filtered into the mess hall, only Medic thinking to situate the corpse against the wall.

"Ya can't ask a dead man questions, mate," Sniper cut in moving behind Demoman to wait for the coffee machine to work its magic.

"Then why do Ouija boards exist? Explain that one, Bible-o Babkins!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" There was a crackle of audio as Medic adjusted the volume control on the small television strapped to the dead messenger. The woman on the screen was none other than the Administrator, reclining in her chair with a cold calm as always.

"G'morning, ma'am!" Soldier stumbled to attention, tipping over his chair and standing in a rigid solute. In his striped boxers and tee shirt, he looked like even more of a caricature than normal.

"Save the formalities, will you? It's too early in the morning to be dealing with you men of all people," a tuft of smoke escaped the Admin's lips as she exhaled her delicate cigarette, "Yet here I have to be. Do you know why?"

"Does it have anything to do with us shooting your messengers as per usual?" Spy asked from his spot against the doorway.

"No, that is a discussion for another time. This is about your Engineer and Scout's sudden and suspicious resignations."

"Resgination?!" Every man in the room's head almost snapped as their undivided attention was grabbed.

"Yes, resignations. I was informed by Miss Pauling at some ungodly hour that both Engineer and Scout called at virtually the same time to resign from their positions as mercenaries."

"Did they say why?"

"Apparently, Engineer fell in love with the town they are staying at and Scout is getting married."

"Scout? Married?" Spy snorted incredulously.

"Laugh all you want, Spy, but your teammates, or ex-teammates as it is, were dead serious and hung up shortly after."

"So what do you want us to do?" Sniper asked as he poured himself some coffee.

"Isn't it obvious? Find them. I will give you their exact locations as traced from their calls, and you'll go and retrieve them. If they refuse, you are to kill them. Such is company policy."

"Hold on, ma'am. I've done a lot of things for you, but what makes you think I'm going to up and kill my own men?" Soldier demanded.

"I suspect you may not have to. Like I said, the calls were suspicious," the woman shrugged, "At this point, you all know as much as I do about the situation. I don't like that. Now, do what I told you to before I decide to take it out of your pay!"

6:25 PM
EL BUTTFUCK NOWHERE, NEW MEXICO

The sun was red and heavy as it gradually descended over the desolate highway. Trash and sand lingered in the hot evening air, shifting ever-so slightly as the road began to sound with the mounting vibrations of an approaching vehicle. A gnarled scrap of a milk jug seemed to leap out of the road as the car, a weathered but sturdy camper van, roared by.

There wasn't much to say that hadn't already been said. Enclosed in the messenger's coat was a marked map leading to where Miss Pauling had traced Engineer and Scout's calls. The location itself was uncharted. The route to it was marked in a ballpoint pen arrow leading to a star labeled "Creekfield".

Needless to say, the men of RED spent several hours backtracking their route from Teufort to Doublecross looking for an unmarked exit uncomfortably piled inside of Sniper's van. Now that it was nearing late evening, everybody was at his wit's end.

"'m startin' to feel like we were sent on a wild goose chase," Demoman muttered from the passenger seat.

"Could be, but where are Scout and Engineer, then?" Sniper asked as he scanned the road for exits.

"Dunno. Perhaps the lad convinced Engineer to stop somewhere for the night?"

Sniper hummed, but couldn't think of a response. Demoman lapsed into the silence as well and shifted himself to face out the window. Snippets of muffled conversation from inside the camper were the only sounds to punctuate the silence. Sniper hoped that the mercenaries inside weren't going through his belongings.

"Hey," Demoman spoke up once more, his attention still focused on the monotonous landscape, "Pauling said they called from a place called Creekfield, eh?"

"Yeah, that's right," Sniper answered.

"Look. To the left," Demoman pointed out the window to a long, winding exit road with a sign hanging above it. In looping black paint, the name "Creekfield" was proudly displayed to the indifferent and barren desert highway.

"Well I'll be," Sniper said as he switched on his turn indicator. The van wobbled precariously as Sniper just barely made the turn onto the road and a "whoop!" from the camper signified that he had caught one of his wary passengers off guard with the sudden motion.

The road continued for at least an hour, twisting and turning in every which way until they arrived at Creekfield. It was as if Sniper had driven off the edge of the world and taken them to this strange parody of heaven on Earth.

The sand had been replaced by rich green grass while suburban houses like something out of a postcard stood against the setting sun, their purity seemingly immune to the dust and heat of the desert. Shiny cars appeared from either side of Sniper's old beast of a van, driving behind or in front of them at an uncomfortable distance before they pulled into driveways. One by one, every single driveway had a car to call its own, and one by one, every man that came out would be welcomed by his lovely wife and disappear into his picturesque home.

The RED mercenaries felt so out of place in this domestic world that Sniper almost rammed the van right into one of the very men they were looking for.

"Engineer?"