Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I bounced my leg against the splintering wooden bench; My nerves were getting the best of me. The humid midwestern air stuck to my body, my curly hair slowly becoming a frizzy mess. I held a small tote bag close to my body. I ran my fingers over the tattoos on my arms and hands as I waited. I looked up at the clock on the corner post that read -7:55- five minutes to go. 8:00 on the dot was what was agreed upon. I began to recount the conversation I had on the phone just a day prior.
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I was sitting on the floor next to the couch in the dingy little basement I called home. The air was stale and it smelled like mildew and spices. I could hear my landlord and his wife arguing about nothing in particular in the house above me; dust fell from the floor above me as they walked across the house. Scattered in front of me were a few piles of various bills ranging from 1$ up to 50$. But still I only had about 600$ in total. Not enough money for rent and food this month. My search for a job had gone about as well as I expected it to; I turned in at least 23 job applications within the week. Some of which were quite shady- done in an act of desperation for some more cash.

I heard a door slam and I knew the wife had left for the night. Using the couch for leverage, I drag myself up from the floor and onto my feet. Rent was due tomorrow and I had to make a decision. Pay rent and have a place to stay, or live on the street with just enough money for food. I paced back and forth across the small room while weighing my options. Just when I had come to a decision, my phone rang from across the room. I dashed around the couch and dove for the undressed mattress where my flip phone rested on my pillow.
“Hello?” I answered a bit too excitedly.
“Good evening. Is this (y/n)?” the woman on the line asked.
“Yes, this is (y/n)... are you calling about my job application?” I quickly composed myself.
“Yes. I'm calling on behalf of R.E.D regarding your application. You have down that you have experience in the kitchen, yes?” the woman was eager to get to the point.
“Yes ma’am, I've worked as a cook in the past and I have spent a lot of time in the kitchen growing up.”
The woman paused for a moment, most likely writing something down, then she spoke again “alright. As you know, this job comes with a high salary and an in house dorm for you to stay in. there will be a car sent to pick you up at precisely 8:00 pm. Please wait at the bus stop at 1st and Center for your departure. All of the belongings you wish to bring must be packed into a single bag. Thank you.”
“What abou-” before I could ask any questions, the woman had hung up. Great. The only job that called back was one of the shady ones, but it's better than nothing. I gathered my few belongings- including rolling papers and a baggie of the devils lettuce itself, a couple band shirts, the only other pair of pants that I owned, and a couple jars full of rocks, dirt, sand, and small shiny items.
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A black car with tinted windows pulled up to the bus stop. The window rolled down slightly and I stood to greet the driver. “Are you (y/n)?” she asked. Although I couldn't see her face, I recognized the voice of the woman I had spoken to on the phone.
“Yes,” I said with a nod.
“Get in. You can put your bag in the back seat.” I did as I was told, being careful with the door handle as the car looked like it was worth more than my life. I set my bag in the back seat, making sure not to set it on the array of items scattered around. My eyes landed on a large burlap sack stain in a variety of colors. I ignored it in favor of not getting on the woman’s bad side. Once seated in the front seat, the door locked and the woman, who looked rather exhausted, passed me a clipboard and a pen. “Please read this and sign at the bottom,” she said as she pulled the car onto the road. I nodded my head and began reading the three pages she had handed to me. For the most part, it was a standard safety agreement. However, what caught my eye were two points listed at the end-
-R.E.D is not responsible for the death, kidnapping, or the resulting trauma for signed person or persons.
-Upon arrival, the signed will undergo an operation done by R.E.D. 's in-house medical professional.
I signed the document. Without looking at me, the woman held out her hand for me to give her the clipboard. I handed it over, but pocketed the pen in the pocket of my denim vest.

It was silent for the next couple of minutes. During this time I got a better look at the woman next to me. She was wearing a purple dress shirt and matching skirt. Her hair was pulled up in a bun that needed to be redone and she was gripping the wheel so harshly I thought it might have snapped. Although I was staring at the woman, I don't think that she had noticed. In fact, she was almost squinting at the road.
She must not have her glasses. Remembering the odd assortment of items in the back seat, I turned around and sure enough, a pair of purple glasses sat on top of the oddly stained and lumpish bag. If the woman noticed what I was doing, she kept it to herself. The glasses were spattered in what I hope was red dye, so I carefully cleaned the lenses with the cloth I use to clean my own glasses with. Once I was satisfied with my work, I cleared my throat, “here you go, miss.” She glanced at me quickly and gave me an appreciative smile.
“Pauling,” she said, “Miss Pauling.” I nodded at her and the car was silent again. I nervously picked at the friction holes in the thigh of my jeans. I'm gonna need another pair of pants…

Chapter Text

The first half-hour of the car ride went smoothly, the radio was playing classic rock at a low volume. If it were my car I would have turned up the music, but Pauling seemed content with the mild volume so I left it alone. I asked a couple of questions about the job as the description was rather vague; I was more interested in the money- seven-hundred dollars a week! When I filled out the application it seemed like it was going to be a dream come true, no matter how sketchy it seemed.

“So…” I started “...” I failed to finish -or even begin- my sentence. Pauling was glancing at me from the driver's seat. “Sorry. I'm not very good at talking to people, my bad…” I feel my face flush. I'm making a fool of myself… I should stop talking. Despite my better judgment, I try again. “Where are we going?” I asked as confidently as I could before I hurriedly followed up with, “or is that classified or something? Totally cool if it is, I was just wondering.”

Pauling glanced at me again before letting out a puff of air and shaking her head as If to wake herself. “Yeah, no, sorry. We are going to Teufort, New Mexico. It's quite the drive, so get comfortable,” she said “I apologize if I came off as rude, this week has been hectic.” I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding- already feeling more at ease with this stranger. New Mexico, huh? That's a ways away from the midwest.
“So, uh… do you know what I'll be doing exactly?” I asked. She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a phone ringing. She gave me an apologetic glance before accepting the call on the car's touch screen dash.
“Pauling here, what do you want, Scout?” straight to the point again. Scout? That's an odd name.
“He-y, Pauling…” he said, dragging out the first word, “long time no see, huh?”
“It's been less than a week.”
“Right. So, I- we,” he corrected himself “we were wondering when you’re gonna be back… with the new guy and all..” he was nervously scratching at his nose. He made no indication that he knew I was there so I assumed he couldn't see me.
“We will arrive in precisely three days. At 9am on saturday. It's a cease-fire day so the new hire will have some time to adjust.” she rambled
“Three days?!” he practically shouted, his Bostonian accent amplified by the volume, “The egg-head is a great cook and all, but I don't think I can eat another brisket.”
“I, as well as the cook, will be there in three days. She wasn't easy to reach, but she had a good profile. You can stand to eat the Engineer’s cooking for a few more days.” Pauling said.
“Wait- she?”
“Goodbye, Scout.” She ended the call. More silence followed after the call had ended. Our previous conversation was seemingly forgotten. I clicked my tongue stud against the back of my teeth nervously and tapped my knee.
“So, about the job…” I tried again.
“Oh, right. You are going to be an in-house cook for a mercenary group of nine men.” she said matter of factly. I blinked at her a couple times, trying to comprehend her words.
“Mercenaries, as in…” I mimicked holding a sniper rifle and firing it with a little bang. Pauling hummed out a yes. “They're Not gonna kill me, are they?” I asked.
“Not as if they really can,” she paused to think, “the interpersonal relationships of the team do not really concern my boss. As long as they do their jobs she’s happy. So it is my job to make her happy by making sure you all do your jobs. The guys tend to resolve their arguments by fighting. I'm sure you can find a different approach if need be, but, judging by your background, I doubt that will be necessary. Your martial arts training is one of the key factors I considered before hiring you.” She stopped talking to breath.

I guess it would make sense that she did a background check on me. I’ll be working with trained killers after all. My brain was working in overdrive trying to take in the information. “Can you tell me about them?” I asked, “you said there were nine of them.”
She seemed to think for a moment or two before responding, “Well, there’s Scout, who you’ve sort of met, and then there’s Soldier, Pyro, Medic, Heavy, Engineer, Spy, Sniper, and Demoman. They do exactly what their names entail. We’ve worked together for years and I promise you that they are good men. They are like a found family of sorts. As for the details, they will tell you themselves given enough time.”

I nodded my head and hummed. There was a lot to think about, but the thought of working with these men didn’t disgust me, in fact I was quite intrigued. We drove for what seemed like forever before Pauling pulled into a gas station to fill up, but soon enough we were back on the road.

The time traveled fast as we drove through the countryside. I learned a little more about Miss Pauling, including her first name- Franchesca. She really was a funny gal, it just took some time to loosen up. Soon enough the green pastures turned into red sand and the trees into cacti. In the far distance, I could see a town. It looked old fashioned and a little run down, but it looked cozy. However, before we reached the town, Pauling turned down a side road that was less a road and more of a trail. She drove the car slowly until it felt like we had hit something. Seeing my panic she giggled, “just watch, i'm surprised that this actually works. Sometimes I miss the turn.”

As the car continued forward, the landscape in front of us shifted. It wasn't until it hit the windshield that I realized the road in front of us was painted onto an obscenely large tarp. What kind of cartoon bullshit is this? When we finally passed the tarp, we could see the giant red building with R.E.D’s logo plastered on the front of it. Attached to the building was a large five car garage and a few meters away from that, was a rusty camper van.

Pauling parked the car and took a deep breath, “Welcome to the base, your new home for the foreseeable future.”

Chapter Text

Pauling swung open her door and stepped out onto the gravel drive, I could hear her heels scraping the rocks as she walked to the back of the car. After taking a deep breath, I followed. “Go ahead and grab your bag from the back. When we go in, I will introduce you to the team, and then you can settle into your room. You will be required to serve breakfast at 7am and dinner and 6pm on weekdays. Everyone has the weekends off.” she started to ramble again.

“Working Monday through Friday, weekends off, 7am, 6pm….. Got it.” I tried to commit the list to memory. Quickly grabbing my bag, I followed Pauling to the base. The New Mexican air was hot and dry; I could already feel the sweat collecting on my forehead. Pauling had a tight grip on her clipboard as we walked up the drive. We stopped at the door and Pauling turned to me.

“I know these guys can be a little much sometimes, please be patient.” she asked softly before turning back to the door and raising her fist to knock. Her fist barely hit the door before it was swung open by a lanky, baby faced man. I recognised him from the call pauling answered a few days ago.
“Pauling! Great to see you!” he said with badly hidden excitement. The man was obviously waiting for us just on the other side of the door.
“Good morning, scout,” she said, pushing her way past him and motioning for me to follow. “This is the cook,” she continued, “where are the others?”
Scout visibly deflated, his shoulders hunching as he ran a hand through his short brown hair. “They’re playin’ cards,” he pouted. Finally he turned to acknowledge me with a wave. “Follow me,” he said and began walking off. Pauling quickly followed and I stayed close behind. It was a very short walk, if I had actually been paying attention I would have noticed a table of six men across the room. All of their eyes were on us and we made our way closer to the poker table. The first thing I noticed about the men were the hats that some of them wore. A hardhat, a beanie, a ski mask, and a… cowboy hat? I wasn’t really sure what the last one was, but it looked like a brown cowboy hat with one side pinned up. Why these guys were wearing these, I had no clue. Two of the men weren’t wearing hats at all. One of them wore round, wire framed glasses and the man that sat next to him was a hulking figure that loomed over the rest.

“Hey guys,” Pauling waved happily to the group, “I’m back with the new recruit.” The men smiled and some of them waved.
As they stood up I got a better look at them. On the far left stood the shortest man; he wore brown overalls, a brightly colored hard hat, and his eyes were covered by goggles. His square shoulders and strong build compensated for his lost height.

Still seated next to him was a taller black man. He wore an eyepatch over his left eye and a black beanie on his head. His good eye was a deep brown with flecks of gold. His attire was more casual- a large sweater and baggy sweatpants. He was well built, like any working man, but he seemed to sway in his seat.

Standing to the left of him was the large, hulking man. Not only was he the tallest, he was also the strongest. His biceps were easily the size of my head; I had no doubt that he could lift me up and hurl me across the room with little difficulty. However, he seemed to be trying to make himself look smaller as he gave me a small smile.

The man with the glasses was smiling. It wasn't a comforting smile, in fact, it was quite menacing; the wrinkle in his brow was so harsh that it seemed permanent. He wore a sweater vest and tie with a pair of slacks. Even though his smile and demeanor were off putting at best, I could tell he was trying his best to make me feel welcome.

The man with the ski mask was also tall. Besides the mask, he wore a three piece pinstripe suit and shiny black shoes. The look in his blue eyes told me he was less than impressed. I could tell already that I don't think we’d be getting along too well, as his smirk was as pretentious as his suit.

Lastly, the man in the funny cowboy hat, who was trying his best not to make eye contact. Although he was wearing aviators, I could tell his eyes were a sharp green. He wore a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a vest. It wasn't a denim vest like mine, but it suited him well. He had a five o’clock shadow and sharp features, but most notably, he had a scar on the right side of his face; It started on his nose and skipped across to his cheekbone. Admittedly, I had been staring at the man a bit longer than I intended.

Oh no. I averted my eyes from the roguish man before I had been caught staring at him. I pulled my lips into a tight smile and averted my eyes to the card table. A chorus of hellos tugged me out of my thoughts.
“Howdy!”
“Heeeya!”
“Hallo!”
“Bonjour.”
“Привет.”
“G’day, Sheilas.”
I must have looked nervous because Pauling rested a hand on my shoulder. So I smiled and waved hello to the six men. Scout had sat down at the table next to the man I had dubbed as ‘eyepatch’ for the time being.

“Cook,” Pauling addressed me by my title, “this is Engineer,” she pointed to the man in overalls, “Demoman,” eyepatch waved at me, “Medic,” the man in glasses nodded at me, “Heavy,” the large man smiled, “Spy,” the suited man blinked at me and held his head high, “and Sniper.” The handsome man finally made eye contact with me, only to give a small wave and look back down at the table. “Engineer, where are Pyro and Soldier?”

The Texan rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “ah don’t really know. Pyro mumbled something about helping Soldier with a raccoon, but ah haven’t seen Soldier all day.” I could help but notice his southern drawl and I guessed he was from somewhere in Texas.
“I don't know how you understand what that maniac is saying. He just mumbles behind that mask all the damn time,” Scout complained, kicking his feet up onto the table.
Engineer shook his head and replied, “boy, maybe if you just listened a little closer instead of running your mouth all the time, you could understand him.”
“Scout,” Pauling interrupted. The Bostionian was quick to jump back up from his seat and sling his arm over Pauling’s shoulders.
“What's up, Pauling?” he said excitedly as Pauling gently removed his arm and stepped away from him.
“Go find Soldier and Pyro, please,” she said. Scout gave her a two finger salute before running outside to find the two. I almost laughed at the way he scampered out of the building in his haste to do as he was told. It was obvious that the boy had a crush on her.

Pauling stepped aside with the Medic and they began speaking in hushed tones as she handed over the clipboard. They whispered to each other and occasionally gestured to me. I assumed that they were talking about my medical records or something of the sort. I wouldn't doubt that the background check Pauling had done on me covered all the bases.

The eyepatch wearing man, now known as Demoman, stood up and swayed over to me, clearly intoxicated from the drink he left sitting on the table. “So…uh” he slurred, slinging his arm drunkenly over my shoulder. I tensed up at the contact, but didnt pull away. “Where are you from, Cookie?” he asked. His Scottish accent mixed with his slurred speech made it almost impossible to tell what he was saying, but I used to work the closing shift as a bartender so I was sure that I had it figured out.
“Illinois,” I answered, slightly turning my head so I could see his face, “near chicago.” The man laughed loudly and threw his head back as if I had told him the funniest joke. The others were now either looking at the two of us, or ignoring us entirely.
“Me buddy Solly is from there!” Demoman announced, “you haven't met him yet.” he continued to chuckle to himself.
“Demo, get offa her. You're scarin’ the poor girl.” Engineer stepped in. I was grateful, but at the same time I knew I had things under control. Demoman’s arm fell from my shoulder and he backed up a few steps.
“Sorry, lass. Didn’t mean ta make you uncomfortable.” he apologized.
“S’fine,” I smiled at him, “Demoman, was it?” He smiled wide at me and told me “just Demo is fine, lass.”

While waiting for Scout to come back, I spoke more with Engineer, Demo, and Heavy who had joined us with Medic and Pauling. I learned that I was correct in guessing that Engineer was from Texas. He also told me that he preferred to be called Engie, as it was less of a mouthful.

Heavy had a thick Russian accent and spoke in partially broken english. Once I talked with the man, it was clear that he was just a massive teddy bear. He spoke very fondly of his family back home- his sisters and mother- and he spoke not so fondly of the fact that one of his sisters, Zhanna, was engaged to this ‘Solly’ guy. When he spoke about the engagement a deep frown settled on his face, but it was clear that he was happy that his sister was happy.

Suddenly, the door burst open across the room and a family of raccoons skitters in followed by a battered Scout and someone in a bright red fire retardant suit. My eyes follow Scout and the mystery person as they scamper and trip around the room trying to catch the three raccoons. All five of them dart around the corner into a separate room that I would later know as the kitchen. The six men, Pauling, and I made no move to help them, in fact, we all watched in various levels of amusement as they rounded the corner and crashed into each other.

Demo laughed boisterously while Engie chuckled and shook his head. The mystery person pulled themself up, but was dragged back to the hardwood floor as Scout tried to use them to pull himself up. Pauling was giggling now; Medic was holding onto Heavy (who was pointing and laughing at the display) to keep himself from doubling over. Besides the two on the floor, there were two others who kept quiet. Sniper and Spy still sat at the table looking rather unamused at first glance.

Through my eyes that were squinting from my broad smile, I took a closer look at the two; Spy was pinching the bridge of his nose in disgust, but Sniper seemed to be trying to conceal his laughter behind a closed fist. For a brief second as the Sniper glanced in my direction -we made eye contact, but it was quickly broken as he coughed into his hand and looked back at the scene. The Spy raised his eyebrow in question at his colleague before his eyes shifted to me. Uncomfortable with all of the eye contact, I also averted my eyes towards the fumbling duo in front of us.

Then there was a rough hand on my left shoulder, pulling me back. Without thinking, I reacted; My right arm shot across my chest and I gripped the wrist of the hand on my shoulder. Digging my thumb into the soft spot on the wrist, I snuck my left hand into my pocket and grabbed the ballpoint pen that I had stashed there three days earlier. I spun around, gliding my hand up the arm and around to the back of my assailant's head. My left hand came up under his arm as I spun him around and pressed the tip of the pen gently but firmly into the man's jugular.

The room was silent, no one was laughing anymore. All eyes were on me and the man I had in an iron grip. He was clutching onto my arm and trying to pry my hand off of him while also trying to regain his footing. He was a good 10 inches taller than me so yanking him down so harshly had made him lose whatever balance he had.

“Cook, could you please let go of Soldier,” Pauling said “or at least drop the pen.” coming back to my senses, I realize that the man in my grip must be their other colleague, The Soldier. I quickly let go of him along with the pen and both clattered to the floor. I pulled my arms and hands close to me, practically hugging myself trying to apologize.

“I'm so sorry! He- you startled me, I didn't know who you were!” I tried to explain, backing up from the man on the floor who had yet to speak. In my haste to get myself away I had backed directly into Heavy- startling myself even further.
“Little girl, please,” Heavy spoke from behind me, “calm.” He set one of his massive hands gently onto my shoulder and the other one on top of my head. I relaxed against his gentle touch. Everyone was standing now, but they didn't look worried for their friend who was still laying on his back seemingly stunned. Then a loud laugh broke the silence.

“Ha! Soldier got his shit rocked by a chick!” it was Scout, laughing so hard I thought he might burst a blood vessel. Soon enough the others joined in- even Spy was snorting in laughter at the man laid out on the floor. I stepped away from Heavy and held out my hand for Soldier to take. He stared at it for a long while, then took my hand in his. I hoisted him up, telling him again that I was sorry and to my surprise- he smiled at me.

“Do not apologize for your fighting spirit, cadet!” His voice was loud and scratchy. He clapped his hand on my bicep and nodded to me once, then turned to pick up his helmet that had flown off when I dropped him. “Now then!” he laughed and turned to scout and the person I had yet to actually meet, “Have you maggots caught lieutenant bites and his cohorts, or have you been mucking around?!”

Chapter Text

After the scare, I had repocketed the pen and sat down at the poker table to watch Soldier order Scout and Pyro around. I had taken Spy’s seat after he announced that he was going to his smoking room around the corner. He gave one final nod of acknowledgement to me and he disappeared. Literally. His shiny black shoes clicked against the floor which I thought was odd for someone named “Spy”; you’d think he’d have a quiet exit.

That was super fucking embaressing. Scout groaned as Soldier shouted out some formation tactic. Pyro had decided enough was enough and came to sit down by me. Except, instead of sitting in a chair, they sat down on the floor at my feet and began inspecting my legs. I cautiously watched them as they poked and prodded at my pant legs, not quite sure what was happening.

“they’re peaceful,” whispered Sniper from the seat next to me. I almost didn't hear him because he was so quiet. “If they’re really bothering you, you can tell ‘em. Not easily offended, that one." After finally saying a full sentence to me I could tell that his accent was australian. The person in question giddily clapped their hands together as if they had come to a decision. Then, from out of nowhere, they pulled out a sheet of puffy unicorn stickers and began sticking them meticulously to my pants.
“They?” I quietly questioned. The person at my feet didn’t respond, too preoccupied by their task.

The Australian sniffed, then responded, “yeah.. We aren't really sure what Pyro is, so we use gender neutral pronouns. They’ve never corrected us, so…” he trailed off while waving his hand as if to dismiss the rest of his sentence. The silence between us that followed wasn't uncomfortable, we just had nothing else to say. Pyro, however, seemed to have a lot to say when they were done with their colorful assault on my jeans. They gleefully mumbled muffled ramblings through their mask. I couldn't make out much of what they were saying, but they seemed to be proud of their work.

“I love it, Py,” I smiled at them, “I think it looks great.” I gave their head a small, awkward pat. They seemed content with this and mumbled something to me, then hopped up and wandered toward the engineer. Now that it was -relatively- quiet, I could take in the rest of my surroundings.

I was sitting facing the door. Behind me was the kitchen, to my left was an old ratty couch and a television set, and to my right was a long hallway. To the left of the television set, there was another hall, but this one was much shorter and wider. To the right of the t.v. was a door labeled ‘STORAGE’.

The air in the base smelled like sawdust, vanilla, cigarette smoke, and… was that weed? I smelled the air again, and sure enough it smelled as if someone had been smoking a joint. I relaxed slightly, comforted by the scent. The weight of the baggie in my pocket felt lighter as my anxiety about the content washed away. Pauling and I had a discussion about my use on the second day of driving. Her background check on me left no secrets about myself. She had assured me that it was fine, even though it was not technically legal, (nothing about this job was really legal, was it?) none of the men on base would be bothered by it. She even told me that one of the men took a particular liking to the drug, but she stopped short of calling him a stoner. From that moment- I made it my personal mission to find the team stoner.

While I was lost in thought, Soldier and Scout managed to catch the family of raccoons in a burlap sack. The helmet wearing American proudly took the bag and marched his way outside; He had stated that he was going to train the animals to hate the color blue.

Soon enough, the rest of the crowd dissipated- venturing further into the base. All that was left was Pauling, Scout, Demo, Sniper, and I. Demo was downing the rest of his alcohol while Scout continued to pester Pauling about her plans for the week. Sniper was busying himself with restacking the cards from the abandoned poker game. He haphazardly gathered the cards and lightly tapped them on the table to straighten them out; Not bothering to put them back into the box, he began shuffling them.

I watched his hands as he roughly shuffled the cards, stopping a few times to adjust them against the table again. I noticed a pile of cards that he hadn’t gathered up, it must have been Spy’s hand. I picked up one of the cards and inspected it. The two of clubs. The card itself was worn down and covered in dirt and grease.
“Scout, please, we really don’t have time for this,” Pauling was practically pleading with the boy.

“Come on, toots! It’ll be fun, I promise.” he continued. Then an idea struck me. I slid the card under my thumb and passed it over my pointer finger, then underneath my middle. I aimed the card at the back of Scout’s head as if I was holding a pistol, then I snapped my fingers. The card shot out of my hand as fast as a bullet and soared through the air and across the room, hitting Scout directly on the back of the head with enough force to knock his head forward.

He spun around and I had to suppress a chuckle at the glare he shot toward the three of us at the table. Demo, however, didn’t bother to hide his amusement and laughed loudly at Scout for the second time today. In a huff, Scout frowned deeply and walked down the long narrow hallway, entered a room, and closed the door.

Pauling clapped her hands together loudly and gasped. “I knew I was forgetting something!” she groaned, “Sniper!” She quickly got the man’s attention. He jumped in his seat, not expecting the sudden burst from the woman. “Can you show Cookie to her room? I need to speak with Medic about her upcoming procedure.” Sniper blinked dumbly a few times before nodding.

“Sure,” he said, setting down his pile of cards and standing up. I stood as well and reached down to grab my bag, but Sniper picked it up before I could reach it. “Allow me, sheila,” he smiled, still not making eye contact with me. I awkwardly puffed out my cheeks and gave a quiet thanks.
“So…. Cookie, huh? Is that nickname gonna stick?” I asked him as he led me to the narrow hall on the other side of the room. He chuckled and hummed out a yes before shifting the bag in his grip. His brow furrowed and he shifted the bag in his hand again.

“What’ve you got in this thing? Rocks?” he asked half jokingly. I inhaled sharply and laughed nervously at the question, but didn't give an answer. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes and raised a brow. I avoided eye contact by staring at the hardwood floor. He stopped walking and scrunched his brow in thought. “...” he opened his mouth to say something but closed it quickly to think about his response. “It's rocks….. Isn't it?”

I rocked onto my heels and puffed out my cheeks before answering, “it's not all rocks. Just a few…” I glanced up to make brief eye contact. “I like collecting things,” I whispered, “it's only a jar of pebbles, I swear!” I started to ramble on about my collections of oddities. He nodded along to my words and began walking down the hall again. The walls were painted a faded red and the lights that hung from the ceiling needed to be replaced. I followed behind him until we stopped at the end of the hall. He cleared his throat, cutting me off from my rambling.

“This is your stop,” he clicked his tongue as he set down my bag, “y’know, the blokes and I are real rapt to have ya here. Maybe I'll even join yous for brekkie now that Engineer isn't cooking. Don't get me wrong, the bogan can cook a mean brisket, but he's lacking in the breakfast depot.” he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, bumping his hat forward. The language he used was odd, but I felt like I'd get used to it quickly.

“I hope that I live up to y’alls expectations.” laughed, “and I hope to try that brisket that I keep hearing about.” We both chuckled at that. We stand awkwardly for a few moments before I clap my hands together. “Welp! Thanks for walking me to my room, maybe you can show me around the rest of the base later… y'know, if you're not busy. Or if you don't want to, id get it… I'm gonna stop talking now.” I laughed nervously while retreating into the room. He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off in my embarrassment. “Thanks again,” I said before closing the door.

Chapter Text

The room was small and practically empty save for the mattress and the two drawer bedside dresser that were both shoved into the far right corner. In the left corner of the room was a door that led to a washroom.
It only took me five minutes to unpack my bag. First I grabbed out my assortment of jars from the top and set them neatly on the bedside dresser. My rocks, my bottle caps, my dirt, my moss, then my empty jar. Then I took out my baggie of weed along with my rolling papers and tossed them onto the dresser as well. Then my toothbrush and a half used up tube of toothpaste were thrown onto the bed. The last thing I took out were my clothes- An Alice Cooper shirt, an AC/DC shirt, and a Metallica shirt along with one pair of pants and my underwear. I folded up the bag and stuffed it into the dresser with my clothes.

This is my home for the foreseeable future, might as well get comfortable. I shucked off my vest and hung it on the bathroom door. I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste from the bed and brought them into the bathroom, which was more like a toilet room, because the only things in it were a sink and a toilet. I set my things down on the sink and walked back into my room, grabbing my baggie of weed from the dresser..

I sat down on my new bed and took the empty jar off the dresser. I unscrewed the lid and placed the jar between my thighs to keep it still. I opened the baggie and took a deep breath, smelling the air and sighing. Then I carefully poured the contents into the jar and screwed the lid back on. I set it on the dresser before standing and making my way back to the door. I should probably talk to Pauling and Medic about that surgery.

I peaked my head out the door and looked down the hallway into the rec room. I couldn't see anyone in the hall, but I could hear indistinct chatter from the large room at the end. I made my way down and got a close look at the hall as I passed by. Name plates adorned every door in the hallway. Next to my room was Spy’s, then Medic’s, Pyro’s, and Engineer’s. Across from my room was Sniper’s, then Scout’s, Heavy’s, Demo’s, then Solly’s. Along with their names, their class symbol was carved into a plate as well. My door, however, was plain.

When I finally made it to the end of the hall, I could see Medic and Pauling still chatting away while Demo and Engie were drinking together on the couch. Medic noticed me first, “frauline! You're just in time, we need to get started right away,” he spoke. I glanced at Pauling nervously and she gave me a reassuring smile.

“You'll be perfectly fine, Cookie, Medic has done this procedure nine times. Once on himself!” she reassured me, “you're in great hands.” I gave a nervously awkward smile to the woman, then followed Medic who had begun walking toward the wide hallway while muttering in german. He threw open a set of double doors and gestured broadly to the room,

“Welcome, to my lab!” he announced, “please. Get comfortable, we must start right away.” he offhandedly pointed to a surgical table in the middle of the room before rifling through a large cabinet on the far side of the room. The floor here was covered in peach colored tiles and the walls were painted white with red outlines. Cabinets lined the walls along with a fridge and a large sink with a steel basin. The most noticeable thing in the room was a large laser-like contraption that was suspended from the ceiling. The end of the ‘laser’ was pointed at the surgical cot in the middle of the room.

I took a seat on the cot while I waited for the doctor to finish whatever it was he was doing. Finally he turned around and pushed a gown into my hands. “undress and put on this gown…” he hesitated before adding, “please.” We held an uncomfortable amount of eye contact before he turned around and walked through a door labeled “storage” . He muttered “let me know when you are covered,” before he disappeared behind the door.

I began to strip, first taking off my shoes and socks. The tile was freezing, but it quickly warmed up under my feet. I unbuckled my belt and began to peel my pants off of my legs, struggling slightly to get them over my thighs. I folded the pants neatly and placed them on the floor next to my shoes. I whipped my shirt off over my head and folded that as well. He had not specified whether or not to remove my underwear, so I decided to keep them on. Not wanting to look at myself any longer than needed, I quickly threw on the paper gown and hoisted myself up onto the cot.

I waited a moment before calling for the doctor, “Medic!” I called out to him, “im ready!” as if he had been waiting impatiently behind the door, he swiftly swings it open and begins talking about the operation. I didn't understand most of what was said, just that I'd be awake for the process and that it ‘shouldn't hurt’. But by the time he had gotten to that part, he was already manhandling me to lay down on the cot. His sweater vest was now covered in a lab coat and his hands were swallowed by enormous red rubber gloves.

The next few minutes were a blur. The german managed to cut the gown I was wearing down the middle, exposing my sternum and ribs, while also speaking erratically about the local anesthetic he had created. Then, he cleaned my chest and abdomen with wipes. He pulled out a large syringe filled with clear liquid. When he pinched my skin to inject it, I visibly winced and shut my eyes. But nothing happened. When I opened my eyes, the medic was looking at me in concern. His blue eyes looked almost stern when he asked, “are you okay, frauline? There is nothing to be afraid of, it's just going to be a pinch.”

I took a deep breath to calm myself. “I'll be fine,” I said, “just not a fan of needles.”
“Ah, I understand,” he hummed. although his words were reassuring, his eyebrows furrowed as he noted the large variety of tattoos on my chest, torso, and arms. “Some of the others dislike needles as well… would you like me to tell you when it's over?”
“No, please just get it over with. Don't even warn me, just do it…. Please,” I said..
He hummed as if what I said was very interesting. “Then would you like to look away?”
“No, I'd rather see it happen, but thanks,” I replied. He nodded at me but he looked rather confused. Nevertheless, he regained his focus and continued with his work. I watched stiffly as the needle punctured my abdomen, then my chest. When he set the needle down I let out a large breath and relaxed. “Sorry,” I apologised.

“You have nothing to be sorry for!” he laughed, “everyone has their dislikes. Needles happen to be a common one.” as he spoke, he turned towards a tool cart and began selecting his tools. “You should be completely numb in about thirty seconds…” he muttered, mostly to himself. Finally he selected a scalpel and turned back to me. The man poked my chest a few times with his finger before moving down and prodding at my abs, or lack thereof.

I decided to let him do his work and instead turned my attention to the ceiling. It was paneled in white tiles just like a hospital. The air smelled almost too clean and the lights were fluorescent. I closed my eyes to avoid the lights. Medic began humming to himself as he worked and I let myself be relaxed by the tune.

After about an hour of being lost in my thoughts, Medic gently shook my shoulder. “Frauline, how do you feel?” he asked, “Im almost finished, I just need to switch on the med beam and it will close you right up!” He sounded excited. Before I could ask what he ment, he continued on, “Engineer and I created this together! Once I switch it on, It can heal almost anything!” he claimed, gesturing to the ‘laser’. He briskly walked around the cot to switch it on.

The machine buzzed to life, emitting a bright beam of red light. It was startling to say the least. Medic happily talked about the logistics of the creation, but I didn't understand any of it. I nodded along anyway because he seemed happy to talk about it. However, it was hard to stay focused on his words when a beam of light was literally healing my open chest cavity. I should be more concerned about what is happening. Once my chest is closed up, the beam shuts itself off and the medic picks up my clothes from the floor to hand to me.

“All done! You are free to get dressed,” he looks at his watch, “its half past noon, I believe Heavy made sandviches! Please join us for lunch when you are ready.” and with that, he strutted out the double doors and left me to get dressed.