#tf2 ask blog

[the-teufort-nine]

CHEMICAL BONDS | RED!Chemist!Fem! Reader x RED Mercs | CHAPTER 1 |

What did the bartender say when oxygen, hydrogen, sulfur, sodium, and phosphorous walked into his bar? OH SNaP!

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Cw: mentions of graphic death/description of a corpse, attempted date rape (non-graphic and not successful), drugging, body horrorﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

When the Mann Brothers grow tired of their seemingly endless stalemate, both reach out to the Administrator and demand that she find them a new mercenary, one that will give them an advantage. Naturally, the Administrator sends Miss Pauling out to find some poor sucker willing to sell their soul and join the eternal fight for cold hard cash and a glimpse at immortality.

That sucker just so happens to be you.

Tossed into the fray headfirst, you become RED's first female mercenary. However, things are not all sunshine and giblets, and you can't shake the feeling that there's something eerily... familiar about the BLU Chemist.

Florence Pauling was having a very bad day.

She had, somehow, slept through all six of her alarms, and thus had to rush out the door of her very small, but very secure, apartment without even getting a sip of coffee or a bite of breakfast. Then, later on, as she’d been acquainting someone who’d been planning to stick their nose where it didn’t belong with her hacksaw, she’d clipped one of his arteries while his heart was still fighting to pump blood, which resulted in her favourite skirt getting splashed by the crimson liquid.

The trip to the laundromat had been an awkward and nerve-racking one, to say the least.

While she’d been waiting for the stain to come out, she’d been contacted by the Administrator and given a sudden, daunting task. Apparently, Redmond and Blutarch were beginning to grow bored of the relative stalemate their respective teams maintained, and they wanted to hire two new people to spice things up, each brother intending to gain an advantage over the other. Which, in reality, would never happen. The Administrator would never allow it.

So, she told her assistant that she needed to, as quickly as possible, find a suitable lunatic that was both willing to sign their soul away to Mann.CO and compatible with the awe-inspiring, somewhat terrifying machines that would end up bringing them back from the dead time and time again. That latter point was, arguably, even more important than the former, because it took a long time to clean any incompatible particles and liquefied body parts out of the system.

Please don’t ask her how she knew that.

By the end of it, she’d filled out so much paperwork and killed, dismembered, and buried so many men in shallow graves that her stiff wrists throbbed with pain every time her feet hit the ground. The only saving grace of the day was the fact that she now had enough time before she needed to go home and collapse in bed to go and visit one of the local bars. She didn’t usually indulge, but she was already developing a headache from the stress of having to track down a new applicant, so she decided that she deserved a little treat.

The bartender, a grizzled old woman with a deep scar across the length of her face and more tattoos than Florence could count, raised an uninterested brow at her.

Pushing open the doors to the closest establishment that didn’t look like a money laundering front, she plopped herself down on one of the barstools, its cheap, cracked red faux leather flaking off onto her legs.

“What can I do you for?” she asked, sounding like she’d smoked fifty packs a day.

“An Aunt Roberta.” Florence replied, folding her arms and resting her head on the bar, “And some fries. Please.”

The bartender grunted and left to go and fix her drink, yelling her fry order towards the small kitchen in the back. Loud Italian curses were hurled back, mostly crude remarks about the woman’s mother, but the purple-clad girl could hear sounds of movement and dishes being moved around, so she figured the chef was probably doing his job. After a minute or so, a glass was set down before Florence. She thanked the bartender and took a small sip. 

It was like being kicked in the throat by one of the Horses of the Apocalypse. The alcohol burned like molten lava as it slid down her throat, leaving behind a trail of simmering pain before pooling in her gut. Licking her lips, Florence tasted the tart flavour of the blackberry liquor. God, that was good.

As she nursed her drink, a man sat down on the stool next to her, placing his own drink on the bar counter. Now, in a busy bar, this wouldn’t have been very strange; people will sit wherever there is an open seat, even if it is next to a stranger. However, there were many open spots at the bar tonight, so the man’s presence instantly put Florence on edge. She wasn’t afraid, but caution and gut instinct had never failed her before, and she was getting some very bad vibes off of her sudden company.

“Well hey there, gorgeous.” the man started, leaning on one of his hands as he grinned, “Nice legs. What time do they open?”

Florence suppressed a grimace and took a quick glance in her immediate area, taking stock of every item that she could use to kill this creep if it came down to it. Or, maybe if he just kept talking. She was in a bad mood today.

Suddenly, her fries arrived, the bartender setting the food down in front of Florence as she leveled the man with a look that said ‘I’m just waiting for you to give me a reason to kick you out.’ 

The man leaned back slightly, a lock of his black, over-gelled hair falling into his face. Still, he didn’t depart. In fact, he kept trying, and failing, to flirt with the exhausted woman. She responded mostly in uninterested hums and quiet noises, trying her best to still enjoy her food despite the unwanted dinner guest that could not take a hint.

When she turned her head to crack her neck for a moment, she noticed slight movement in the corner of her eyes. Sure enough, when she looked back at her drink, she could see something fizzing and dissolving amidst the bubbles.

She took another sip, resisting the urge to gut the man when he smirked at her, assuming that she’d be defenseless soon enough. Jokes on him though; she had developed an immunity to almost every common hypnotic drug or poison. When he tried to make a move on her, she’d find a way to kill him. Discreetly, of course.

“Hey, buddy!”

Both the man and Florence looked over when a new voice rang out. A woman was leaning against the bar, sipping on what looked like a bottle of soda. She had H/C hair, bright, intelligent E/C eyes, a white turtleneck, a red leather jacket, and black bell-bottom jeans, a pair of black rubber boots acting as the final, albeit strange, part of her outfit.

“Betch’a can’t chug that drink of yours faster than I can finish mine.” she said, indicating to the man’s drink, some kind of beer, its froth having long since disappeared, “In fact, I’ll bet you five bucks that you can’t.”

There was something about the way that this woman’s eyes stayed locked on the creep’s drink that made alarm bells go off in Florence’s head. Why on Earth would someone make that kind of wager? This woman wasn’t even drunk enough to explain this strange challenge.

The man, however, did not see any red flags. All he saw was a pretty young woman offering him some easy money. “Heh, you’re on, toots!”

He grabbed his beer, chugging the golden liquid with relative ease. Meanwhile, Florence watched as the stranger drank her soda at a much slower pace. They made eye contact, and the other woman winked, confirming Florence’s suspicions that she had done something. But what exactly had she done? And why?

The sound of a glass being slammed down drew the raven out of her musings, startling her slightly. The man laughed as the woman shrugged and retrieved the promised currency. 

“Hey, y’know, if you wanna keep yer money, I can think of another way for you to pay me.” he offered, opening his legs slightly and raising a brow, grinning lecherously. 

“I’ll pass.” the woman replied, “Besides, I’ve got a feeling I’ll be getting it back soon.”

The man’s brows furrowed in confusion. In the bar behind them, a few sleepy patrons finally seemed to notice the woman’s presence, and, one by one, they filed out of the bar, the last one even stopping to flip the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED.’ The bartender wiped the counter, occasionally glancing over.

Florence shifted uncomfortably, the feeling worsening when her attempted date-rapist suddenly clutched at his stomach, quickly sliding off the stool and rushing to the bathroom. The strange woman took a long sip of her drink before setting it down gently, her gaze sliding over to meet Florence’s. 

“You should probably go.” she said, pointing towards the door, “Don’t worry about him; he won’t be bothering you anymore. Or, anyone, really.”

The woman snickered, like she’d just told Florence a pun or bad joke. 

“What…” Florence started, looking at the woman, then the bathroom, then back at the woman, “what did you do to him?”

“You’re not from around here, are ‘ya kid?” the bartender asked, not even looking up from her cleaning, “Listen, just go home, and, if you know what’s good for you, keep yer trap shut. You don’t wanna stick around for what comes next.”

Florence sat up straighter.

“Actually, I think I do.” she replied, folding her hands in front of her.

The bartender and the woman exchanged surprised looks, before the woman tilted her head towards where the man had run off to.

“Alright, foxy mama! Just follow me, and try to keep your lunch. Gunnhild over there always sticks me on vomit cleaning duty, and I hate it.” the stranger said, before walking off towards the bathroom.

“You clean worse things than vomit, amlóði.” the bartender muttered, her last word sounding incredibly strange when pronounced with her raspy, New Mexican accent.

Florence was led over to the men’s bathroom. The stranger held her arm out at the door, motioning for the raven to stop. Opening the door with her foot, the woman slowly revealed the bathroom’s contents, and the sight made Florence gasp and take a few steps backwards. 

She had been expecting to find the man unconscious, or perhaps simply dead. Instead, she saw him writhing on the ground, partially strewn across a large metal grate. His midsection was a bubbling, sizzling mess; melted organs, flesh, and partially dissolved bone dripping down the man’s sides, either pooling around him or falling into the grate. His mouth foamed with blood, his lips having since burned away, exposing red gums and corroding teeth. Parts of his throat looked like a burning film reel, spurts of blood bubbling up and out of the ever expanding holes.

“Not a pretty sight, is it?” the woman asked, leaning over, “I mean, I like it; he was a creep and he’s getting exactly what he deserves, and I’ve dealt with a lot of, like, pedophiles or rapists this way, but I know that isn’t exactly normal-”

“Do you want a job?” 

The two women stared at each other for a long moment, the silence broken only by the sounds of the man dying at their feet.

“Uh,” the stranger blinked dumbly, “I’m sorry?”

“A job.” Florence repeated, reaching into her coat to retrieve the application forms she always carried with her, just in case. She hadn’t been planning on interviewing a woman, especially since all of the other mercenaries were, well, men, but the opportunity to get such a gruelling task over with tonight was too good to pass up, “One that will let you do stuff like… well, like that, for more money than you can imagine.”

She handed the woman an application form, watching patiently as she read it over. She leaned against the bathroom wall, taking in the many, many words, her eyes widening when she finally came across the part that talked about the income she’d be receiving. 

“$5000 a month?” the stranger gaped, her jaw dropping.

“Well, that’s the starting wage.” Florence explained, “If we like you, and you’re kept on, then you’ll get a pay increase every year. Plus, you can take on contracts to earn extra income.”

The woman stared at her, dumbfounded, before looking at the papers again. She scanned every line, looking for where the catch must be. Of course, she wouldn’t find it; the real fine print was printed in invisible ink, but Florence could respect the fact that she actually read the offer. Most of the men she hired had barely even glanced at the papers before signing.

“Well shit,” the stranger laughed, lowering the papers, “5k a month to kill some guys in matching outfits? I’d have to be crazy to pass that up. Or… maybe I’d be crazy to accept… eh, fuck it, let’s do it!”

“Great!” Florence chirped, handing the woman a pen to sign her name on the dotted line. She watched as the words were scrawled onto the page.

F/N L/N, Mann.Co’s newest mercenary.

The raven took the signed papers back, folding them neatly and tucking them back into her inner pocket.

“Alrighty, that covers all the legal stuff.” Florence said, pushing the bathroom door back open, “Come on, we better get going.”

“Wh- now?” Y/N stuttered, following after her new employer.

“The Administrator is preetttyyy strict about new hires getting on site as quickly as possible.” she explained, “You’ll have a couple of days to pack up your things- don’t worry, we’ll handle any transportation- but if we’re going to get everything ready for you before the next supply order comes in, then you need to start preparations now.”

The two women stepped back out into the bar, letting the door close behind them with a quiet ‘click’. Gunnhild was finishing up her cleaning, arching a brow at the duo.

“Hey Gigi, guess who got offered a job?” Y/N grinned, looking over at the bartender. The other woman blinked and looked between the two, before shrugging half-heartedly.

“So you'll finally be outta my hair? It's about time.” Gunnhild grumbled, “Make sure ‘y leave us some of that mix ‘a yours on yer way out.”

“You could at least pretend that you'll miss me.” Y/N stuck her tongue out as Florence led her towards the exit, pausing briefly to pull a small, solid metal cylinder out of her pocket, before tossing it to the bartender, “If I end up in the papers as the victim of a murder, tell Tony he has to avenge me before he gets any of my crap, alright?”

Gunnhild grunted in acknowledgement, waving her old employee off. Florence held the door for the other woman, pleased by how well things had been going so far. There was only one more test, and she prayed to God that Y/N would pass it. 

“So… you've clearly done that before.” Florence inclined her head back towards the bar, “How have you been getting away with it?”

She was both genuinely curious and hoping to distract Y/N long enough to do what needed to be done without a fight. She had an iron hold on the woman legally, so she wasn't worried about Y/N backing out of their contract, but she didn't want the other to hate her. It would make things so much harder if that were the case..

“Oh, it's easy, really.” Y/N waved her hand, as if she were talking about a high school quiz in her best subject, “Most of the cops around here are dumb as dirt, and the few that actually have functioning brains are all related to Tony, so they already know what's going on. It's, ah, kind of an open secret around here. Anyone who had any problems with it has already been ‘convinced’ to keep quiet.”

“And the bodies?”

Y/N patted one of her pockets with a small smirk. “I’ve spent years perfecting my chemical mixtures, making sure they’re as efficient as possible. That, mixed with our very useful grate, makes it easy to clean up the mess.”

“How do you even store something like that?” Florence asked, discreetly moving her hand towards the inside of her jacket. She didn’t often wear one, but it made concealing things much easier.

“Oh, that’s actually kind of interesting! See, you can use almost any container, provided it’s lined with Teflon, which is actually used to make cook-” the woman’s passionate explanation was suddenly cut off by something hard connecting with the back of her head, causing her to drop like a rock onto the concrete below.

Florence knelt down and pulled out a small needle filled with a clear fluid. She gently turned Y/N’s head and injected the sedative into her neck, ensuring that she wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. Hooking her arms under Y/N’s armpits, Florence dragged her limp employee into an alley, quickly glancing around to ensure that there weren’t any witnesses. Once she was sure they were completely alone, something that wasn’t hard to achieve, given the fact that it was currently the middle of the night, she laid Y/N down on the cold, grimy stone and got to work.

The technology that made Respawn work was… finicky, to say the least. It required its users to have certain genetic markers, lest they end up coming back as a pile of liquified flesh, if they even came back at all. Truthfully, Florence didn’t like to think about that aspect of the machine, about what became of those lost to its unfeeling, unholy depths. It made her uncomfortable, and there was nothing she could do about it, so it was really in her best interest that she ignore it. 

She raised a hand to the collar of her shirt, feeling around until she found a tiny slit. From it, she teased out a tiny, pill-shaped glass container. Golden liquid sloshed around inside, glowing like a freshly cracked glow stick at a rave. Picking up the now empty needle, she gently took one of Y/N’s hands into her own, pricking one of the woman’s fingers until a bead of fresh, crimson blood appeared. Florence gingerly lay the hand on her lap and cracked the container, letting the glowing substance drip onto the blood. She leaned forward anxiously, waiting to see what would happen.

The two liquids acted like water and oil at first, but slowly, as the seconds ticked by, the golden substance was absorbed into the blood, leaving it with a faint glow that faded steadily. Florence breathed out a sigh of relief, smiling at her unconscious employee.

Y/N had passed the test. 

“Looks like I won’t be needing to bury anyone else tonight!” she said cheerfully, before hauling the other woman’s limp form up and onto her shoulder as she moved to grab her phone. After a few moments of struggling to punch in numbers while balancing an entire person on her shoulder, she held the phone up to her ear as it started to ring. After a few moments, she heard the line connect.

“Hey, it’s Pauling. Bring the van around, I’ve got a new candidate that needs to be processed.”

You were cold.

Every breath you drew into your lungs made them ache slightly, as if the air was bordering on freezing. Goosebumps undoubtedly coated your limbs, but you could neither see nor feel them, for your eyes registered nothing, and your arms did not respond when you willed them to move.

The world around you was cloaked in a level of darkness you had never seen before. Not even the barest scrap of light reached you here, leaving you completely blind. 

You felt weightless, untethered to the world around you. No air brushed past you, but neither did you feel any ground. You were simply suspended in the nothingness, unable to move, save for the slow, methodical rise and fall of your chest. Fear and anxiety writhed beneath your ribcage and coiled in your guts, but your breathing remained even, your body disconnected from your mind.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been there. A minute? An hour? A day? There was no way to tell, no indication of time passing. 

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe you had somehow found yourself in a place outside of time, where you would be trapped, unchanging, forever.

Your spiraling thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a tugging sensation coming from your chest. It felt as though something was pulling at your skin, trying to separate it from your muscles. That feeling began to spread, like mold growing over a damp surface, until it had infested every inch of your body. You wanted to squirm, to try and get away from the intense, uncomfortable sensation, but you remained locked in place.

Slowly, the tugging sensation got stronger, like an invisible vacuum was trying to suck up your skin. The feeling got stronger, and stronger, and stronger, until finally you felt a stinging pain erupt from the center of your chest. A line of liquid skin pulled itself away from your body, floating out into the void before you.  You were unable to do anything but watch as your skin peeled away from the rest of your body, not even being granted the small mercy of being allowed to look away. Your exposed muscles burned in the frigid void, as though your nerves were all simultaneously being dragged across needle-sharp shards of ice.

You watched as your liquified skin bobbed and floated, the only splotch of colour in the vast sea of darkness. Eventually, it began to move in a more intentional way, forming the vague shape of a person. As it did, you felt the pain start to fade, as if your skin had been regrown in a matter of moments.

Then, from out of nowhere, more… things began to appear. You couldn’t tell what it was at first, the wretched mess of red and off-white that it was, but soon it, too, began to find new, recognizable forms. The red and white separated, and while the crimson remained a disgusting, pulsing lump, the yellow-ish white began to form into bones. A skeleton appeared in front of you, wavering for a time before finally settling into a solid, unmoving state.

Once the skeleton was complete, the red began to slither over. It melted against the bones, curling around them and settling in complex layers. Organs began to appear from the dark, sloshing and sliding into place, nestling themselves betwixt the bones and what you now recognized as muscles. Once everything was in its proper place, your skin began to envelop the flesh, crawling across it, sucking it in until the flesh-toned liquid had covered every inch of red. A set of eyes began to fill up the empty eye sockets, flaccid eyelids sliding up as white, jelly-like orbs settled in, their colour not quite ready.

Teeth grew from pink gums, pushing through the wet flesh as a tongue slithered up from the throat, prodding around curiously as the mucous membrane that kept it tethered to the bottom of the mouth formed. The being’s bald scalp began to sprout hairs, a fine coat of fuzz slowly popping up across the flesh. As it grew out, you realized that it was the same colour and texture as your own. The eyes, too, eventually blossomed with colour, exactly the same shade as yours.

The thing before you, the- the person, they looked exactly like…

You blinked. For the first time since you’d become conscious, you actually blinked.

Suddenly, the person before you was no longer someone you recognized. A perfect stranger, whom you had certainly never seen before. If you had, you’d have remembered them for sure, because they seemed so… interesting, for some reason. Why had you thought you recognized them?

You blinked again, and the stranger copied you. They tilted their head, and you felt yours move as well. Feeling returned to your limbs, and you slowly reached out, watching with rapt attention as they raised their hand to meet yours. Your finger brushed against theirs, and your eyes met, a feeling of deep, intimate connection flooding your body. You opened your mouth to speak, though you did not know what you would say.

Before you could get anything out, you dropped suddenly, as if whatever had been holding you had decided that it no longer wanted you. You plummeted downwards, and the void rapidly faded from pitch black into a searing, unyielding white, a loud, droning hum filling your ears. It got brighter, and louder, until finally you could take no more, and you pleaded for it to stop.

Your blanket slid off your chest as you sat up with a yell. You panted heavily, your eyes wide as you stared at the wall of your room. Sunlight filtered in through your window, pale and weak, as the sun had only just begun to creep over the horizon. Blinking, you ran a hand over your face, groaning softly. Already, your dream was fading from your mind, even as you frantically tried to remember what the fuck you had just experienced.

“God damn,” you groused, scrubbing hard at your eyes, “I really have to start watching how much I drink. What the hell did I do last night?”

You lowered your hands.

You… you hadn’t been drinking last night, had you? From what you could recall, you’d only had non-alcoholic drinks, as it was a weekday. You only drank on the weekends, or during the holidays.

So why was your memory so fuzzy?

It couldn’t have been the work of some sleazy bar patron; you’d trained your body to be resistant to the most common date rape drugs, and you knew that Gunnhild would have strangled anyone who somehow managed to get you down. Had you gotten hit on the head or something?

You felt the back of your head and winced. There was a sore spot that had not been there last night. Okay, so… you’d fallen and hit your head. Not only that, you must have hit it hard, because your memory past a certain point was just gone.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

You cringed at the sound, sharp pain lancing through your mind. Oouughhh that did not feel good.

“I’m coming!” you called, your voice hoarse and scratchy.

You smacked your lips, recoiling at the cottony feeling that permeated your mouth and throat. With an agitated grunt, you got out of bed and stumbled out of your room. You lived in a small, shitty little apartment, but one of the advantages of your close living quarters was the fact that your tiny bathroom was close to your bedroom.

As quick as your aching body would allow, you turned on the tap and began greedily sucking down water. It didn’t taste very good usually, but to your dehydrated body, it may as well have been ambrosia.

Once you were done drinking your weight in water, you dried your face with your hand towel and made your way to the front door. With a yawn and a stretch, you opened your front door.

“Mnh- hello?” you said sleepily, your adrenaline having left your system by now.

A woman with dark black hair and a very purple outfit stood on your stoep, her arms held behind her back and a kind smile on her face.

Memories, half-formed and jumbled, flooded your still headache-addled brain. The bar, this lady, a creep you’d taken care of, and a contract that seemed too good to be true.

“You!” you said stupidly, opening the door wider as you looked at your new employer and prayed you had something decent on.

“Me!” the woman confirmed, “Sorry to bother you so early, but I thought I should check up on you after what happened last night.”

“What happened last night…” you repeated, rubbing your injury site gently, “Could you, um, remind me what exactly happened? I remember, kinda, but everything past when we left is…”

You mimed a ‘poof’ motion with your hand, and the woman nodded.

“I’m not surprised you’re having trouble remembering. We were discussing your chemicals when some lunatic jumped out of an alley!” she explained, “He managed to hit you pretty hard in the head before I could take him out. You were out cold, and I didn’t know if you had insurance or not, so I called up some of the medical staff that works for Mann Co. and got you fixed up. They did their best, but you might still end up getting a scar.”

Holy shit, this was possibly the greatest employment offer you’d ever taken.

“Wow I- I don’t even know what to say.” you said softly, “Thank you, miss… ah…”

Dear God, did you seriously forget her name?!

“Oh, right!” she facepalmed, and you relaxed, relieved that you hadn’t just made a fool of yourself, “I got so caught up with everything that I forgot to introduce myself!”

The woman cleared her throat and extended a hand.

“I’m Pauling. I’ll be your… manager, kinda. If you need anything or have any questions, I’ll be who you’ll talk to. I have a very busy schedule, though, so it might be a while before I can get back to you.”

“Y/N L/N.” you replied, shaking her hand, “Though I’m guessing you already knew that.”

She smiled in a way that told you that you had guessed correctly. 

“So, Miss Pauling,” you started, “what do you need from me? After saving my life like that, the least I can do is make your life easier.”

“I appreciate that, Ms. Y/N.” she said, “I don’t need much, just pack up your things within the next three days. Someone will come by the end of the week to collect your possessions, and I’ll come and pick you up after that.”

Three days. You had three days to pack up your life and get ready to head out to become a dangerous mercenary. How lucky for you, then, that there really wasn’t much to pack.

“I have some exotic animals.” you confessed, “Golden dart frogs, to be exact. Is it alright if I carry them with me, instead of packing them up? They’ll be secured very well, I promise.”

Miss Pauling raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah that’s fine, but why not let the movers handle them? Our company specializes in moving delicate equipment, so I promise they’d be alright in transport.” she replied.

“Oh, I’m not worried about the frogs, per say.” you said, “I mean, I want them to be safe, obviously, but if they get out, and someone touches them without gloves…” 

You dragged your finger across your throat.

“They are extremely poisonous, and there is no cure.”

The raven gulped slightly and nodded.

“Right, yeah, the frogs can ride with us.”

Satisfied that your beloved little murder amphibians would be allowed to come, you stepped aside, holding the door open.

“Would you like to come in? I’ll be making breakfast in a moment.”

Miss Pauling shook her head. “I’d love to, but I actually have to get going. Your team needs to be briefed that they’ll be receiving a new member.”

A team. You were going to be part of a team. No one ever wanted you to be on their team!

“Here,” Pauling pressed something into your hands, and you scrambled not to drop it. It was a pamphlet-shaped book, with the words ‘RELIABLE EXCAVATION DEMOLITION’ stamped on the front. “this will give you a brief rundown of your teammates and where you’ll be going. This is for your eyes only, and if you show it to anyone else, you’ll be terminated.”

Somehow, you got the feeling that she didn’t just mean you’d be fired.

“I’ve got to go now, but I’ll see you in a few days. Welcome to RED, Chemist.”

Chemist?

Before you could question her, Miss Pauling was already on her little moped and driving away. How such a little woman could move so quickly, you didn’t know.

Shutting your door, you wandered over to your beat up old loveseat and sat down, leaning against one of the few throw pillows you owned. Glancing around to make sure someone hadn’t somehow magically wandered into your house in order to peep at your reading material, you opened up the little booklet.

There were nine ‘classes’ it seemed, which were divided into three separate categories; Support, Offense and Defense. Support was made up of the Medic, Sniper, and Spy, Offense had the Scout, Soldier, and Pyro, and Defense had the Heavy, Demoman, and Engineer. Each had a page dedicated to them, showing off their symbol and a brief description of what they did. When you were done reading the Engineer’s page, you turned it, expecting to see the promised base information.

Instead, what greeted you was a page about, well, you.

This page contained your class information, showing off your class symbol, a test tube pouring out liquid, and describing how you would mostly be focused on using your skills to slow, maim, and melt the enemy team. You'd be receiving a melee weapon as well; a small, curved blade called a karambit. There was nothing alluding to what your outfit would look like, leaving you to sit there and try to imagine it.

Thumbing through the rest of the booklet, you studied the map of the battlefield, and the more in-depth one of your base. Apparently, you'd be moved around every once in a while, and tasked with doing various things, alongside killing the enemy, of course. You weren't getting paid 5000 dollars a month to make friends after all.

Once you were done, you closed the booklet and folded it up. You'd put it somewhere safe in a bit.

For now, your stomach was starting to demand that you feed it, so you made your way over to your kitchen, grabbing a loaf of bread, filling up your kettle, and sitting it on your stovetop. As you waited for your breakfast to be ready, you leaned against your small counter, softly drumming your fingers against its solid surface.

The last 24 hours had been so crazy, you weren't even sure how to begin to unpack it. How on earth had you managed to stumble your way into a mercenary contract? You didn't even have any combat training!

“What have I gotten myself into?” you murmured softly to yourself.

You were going to die out there.

[fortress-rising]

Dear RED Team:

First of all, I'm such a big fan! I've been watching since the very first season, and even though I have work now, I still try to tune in whenever I can. Your battles and extreme acts of violence make my day! Thanks to you all, I've rediscovered my love for guns, knives, highly dangerous explosives, and deadly machinery, and I've began building my own as a side-hobby! I hope to meet you all someday, maybe I'll even get to be part of the production team behind the scenes! Thank you all for doing what you do best!

And to Demoman:

You may be the handsomest, most beautiful man I have ever seen. Please have this drawing I made of you drinking scrumpy and exploding people and being awesome. Could you maybe send back an autograph, if it's not too much to ask...?

(Ooc, I adore this concept to BITS omg, I can't wait to see where it all goes!! -🍃)

TF Industries is not responsible for any property damage, injury, death, or ridicule resulting from emulating actions represented in TEAM FORTRESS

[melancholic-marksman]

@bubbles-and-sparks I caught a lizard

[ballintm]

What's heavier? A kilogramm of steel or a kilogramm of feathers?

uhhhmmmnnmmmmmnnn kligrom of steel.....

[bubbles-and-sparks]

Its so muddy and slippery that i have seen both James AND red scout fall AT LEAST 6 times each during battle!!!👀🤭✨

I have fallen too, but i like the mud, heheh🔥

[frenchoniontf2]

A lil nervous to ask but can we get some Demoman too?

Sure

Imagine a world where you can date the Demoman from the Team Fortress the 2

It's been a while since i did tumblr asks my inboxes are FLOOODEDD lol

[spidercat-karma]

Just a big idiot who loves scratching

Karma spy and Strizh sniper :з

They never admit to anyone that they really enjoy spending time together, despite being actively angry and insulting each other during the day on the battlefield

[stars-stripes-and-rockets]

Why is it that when people bring up the fact that they are going to sail to the edge of the world does no one stop them!?! THEY ARE SAYING THEY ARE GOING TO KILL THEMSELVES DISCREETLY!! DOES NO ONE CARE???

[beecave-blues]

The Texas Two-Step , MK 1 , scrapped

The Texas Two-Step , MK 2 , chosen design

[meet-the-courier]

Have you ever wanted the chance to draw ur oc pulling a gun on Brodie while giving Brady a kiss on the cheek? Or ur sona giving them both a pat on the head? Or maybe you'd wanna draw a random clown hitting them in the face with a pie? No? Well too bad! Now's your chance anyways! Feel free to draw whatever you'd like fitting between here. They're being paid to stand there so make em work for it!

Merry Smissmass! And don't forget- give em a vote in the @tf2occontest on Dec 29th! Single versions under the cut!

[eagle-head-charge]

WE!!!!!!! ARE GOING TO MAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE PRETTIEST TREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AMERICA HAS EVER SEEENNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! RAAGAGAGAGAGAHHGAGAHGAHHHHH

[Part 2] (this time with more Gay!)

[the-teufort-nine]

may i rq a scenario with any of the mercs where they find reader injured when respawn's down. maybe bc of an accident or an ambush. i like angst as long as its ok in the end

HOLY SAXTON HALE ANON THIS ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME!

This isn't explicitly romantic, but you could definitely interpret it as being romantic if you want! You're def the team's fave <3

Anyways, enjoy about 8400 words of hurt/comfort goodness and the Blu team being pathetic lil meow meow when they think you're dead dead.

Mercs x GN!Reader | Respawn Malfunction

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort | SFW | Cw: starvation, temp character death, excess drinking, animal death ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Everyone! Even Miss Pauling is here!

Scenario: During the last few moments of a match, Blu team's Respawn Machine suddenly malfunctions, with you inside! Left reeling by the loss of their Chemist, the team attempts to cope. A week later, Miss Pauling receives a most unexpected phone call...

There had been no warning.

If there had been, then the sharp eyes of RED and BLU’s Engineers would have certainly caught it. Unfortunately, the Respawn Machine had been just as reliable as ever for the entire match, bringing the mercenaries back from the great beyond time and time again, just as it had been designed to do.

Scout and Soldier had just been revived when it happened; the two men taking a moment to shake off the inevitable rush of nausea that came from going through the unholy machine. An Ubercharged Heavy had taken both them and their teammate, Y/N, known officially as the Chemist, out as the hulking giant made a final push to capture one of their points, and both BLU men knew it was only a matter of time before they heard the biting voice of the Administrator informing them of their failure.

Scout scuffed his sneaker against the concrete floor of the Respawn Room as Soldier launched into a furious rant, leaning against the wall as he waited for Y/N to come through, knowing that they'd been killed only a moment after him. He sighed when felt the gentle pulse of the machine as it vibrated like a speaker, getting ready to return his friend to the world of the living.

SKREEEEEECHHHH- BOOM!

A blast of hot air sent the two men crashing into the wall, stunning them momentarily. It was Soldier who regained his wits first, the BLU quickly pushing up his helmet and looking back at the source of the damage in shock and mounting horror. 

“Aeughhhh… what da hell just happened?” Scout moaned, one of his hands rubbing against his throbbing forehead. He blinked, his blurred vision slowly clearing, and as he regained his sight, his eyes began to widen.

Respawn was on fire.

Flames licked hungrily at the walls as they spread out further from the Respawn Machine, with the contraption itself bathed in white and blue hues, the intense heat making quick work of what hadn't been destroyed in the explosion. Shards of complex metals and pools of gleaming Australium were littered all over the room, reflecting the light of the fire.

“HOLY CRAP!” Scout yelped, adrenaline coursing through his body as he attempted to scramble up off the floor.

His voice jolted Soldier out of his shocked state, and he shot a hand out to grab the back of Scout's shirt and yank him along as he made for the door. 

“Emergency! Cease fighting immediately!” The Administrator's voice boomed out over the battlefield, the old woman's voice sounding more shocked than stern for once. 

Scout finally found his footing as he pulled out of Soldier's grip, spinning around to stare at the encroaching flames. Fear roiled in his gut like an angry serpent as his disoriented mind finally allowed the reality of their situation to sink in. Respawn was gone. 

Death was permanent once again.

“Private, this is no time to be standing around! We need to go!”

They could die. For real.

“Scout!”

If they'd come through only a moment earlier, they wouldn't have come back at all. 

Wait…

“Solly, where's Chem?”

Soldier paused in his attempt to drag Scout down the hall, his gaze snapping back towards Respawn. He hadn't seen them when he'd grabbed Scout, too focused on getting away from the rapidly approaching fire, but he'd assumed that they were right behind him.

“They probably snuck past us! They're sneaky like that.” he replied. That had to be it! Otherwise that would mean they…

Scout looked down the hall, searching for any sign of the Chemist, before looking back towards Respawn, his face paling. He jerked forward, sprinting towards the blaze. 

“Chem! Chem, hang on!” Scout yelled, reaching the doorway in only a few seconds, his eyes desperately searching for where his friend could possibly be. 

The room was as empty as it had seemed before. There was no trace of the Chemist, alive or dead, to be found in the room. 

They hadn't made it through.

“What in the Sam Hill is goin’ on here?!”

Scout wrenched himself away from the door as he heard his teammates gasp behind him. Engineer was up by his side in an instant, his mechanical hand gripping the doorframe so hard it cracked the material. He pushed his goggles up, and Scout could see real fear in the other's eyes.

“Vhat zhe hell happened? Zhe Respavn Machine vas fine only moments ago vhen I came through!” Medic said, pausing as he looked at Scout, who was trembling. Gently, the doctor led the young man away from the fire, “Scout? Are you alright? Vere you injured?”

“Chem’s gone.” was Scout's quiet reply.

“Vhat?”

“They was suppose’ta come through after me ‘n Solly, but Respawn went up in flames before they could come through.” the runner's voice was shaky and hollow, and he leaned more of his weight against Medic as his legs started to feel less dependable than usual, “They're gone. Like, gone gone.”

The gathered mercenaries went quiet, the only sounds being that of the crackling flames and Scout and Soldier's laboured breathing.

“DAMN IT!” Engineer bellowed, throwing his hard hat onto the ground, “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

Medic closed his eyes, bringing a gloved hand up to his face as a wave of grief crashed down on him. He'd been rather fond of their newest teammate, glad to have someone around who was as interested in risky experiments as he was. The Chemist had often taken up many of the smaller, more neglected duties around the base, such as cooking proper meals and making sure that Medic's less used medical supplies stayed topped up, in case of emergencies. They'd also been of great help in wrangling some of his more… problematic patients, using their charms (or stealth) to herd them into the Medbay for check ups or shots.

He watched them die every day, but this was different. This was permanent. The machine he and Engineer had worked so hard to build, the one that had allowed them to cheat death time and time again, had finally taken its pound of flesh. Y/N had been taken from them, from him, before he'd been ready to let them go.

Now, this usually wouldn't have been a problem; committing sins against both God and nature was something he did quite often and with great delight, and he was sure he could wrest Y/N back from the afterlife, provided that he had access to their body.

And therein lay the problem. There was no body. Respawn hadn't even spat them out half formed or thrown them into the flames, it had simply not reconstructed them. Whatever remained of the Chemist was likely nothing more than a partially formed mist of human remains that had burned up almost instantaneously.

The tenth class was no more, and there was nothing Medic could do.

“Aw, hell,” Engineer gritted out finally, looking back at his teammates with a tired, beatdown expression, “Christ, someone go ‘n track down a fire extinguisher. If we don't get this under control soon, we'll all end up dead.”

Seeing an opportunity to both flee the horrific scene and be useful, Scout ran off like a bat out of Hell, skidding around a corner and disappearing from sight. Soldier, who was being uncharacteristically quiet and still, made to follow him, but Engineer stopped him before he could take more than a few steps.

“Hold on, pardner. I need you to round everyone up and let ‘em know what- what happened.” the southerner swallowed hard, trying his best to push down his emotions for the time being, “The last thing we need right now is to lose someone else because someone did somthin’ stupid and got themselves killed.”

Soldier thought of how often Demo tested his equipment after their daily battles, especially after a loss, and stopped only long enough to give Engineer a salute before rushing off, determined not to lose any more teammates.

“Gott, vhat a mess.” Medic whispered hoarsely, mentally preparing himself for the utter shit show that was inevitably coming their way. The Chemist had been a friend to all of them, even to Spy, who pretended that he didn't care, and losing them was going to be hard on everyone.

Personal loss wasn't something the mercenaries were used to, lulled into a sense of security, of immortality, by the Respawn Machine. After all, why be afraid of death when you knew that you would be back in what felt like only an instant? None of them ever considered that Respawn might fail one day.

“C’mon, Doc. We can't stay here.” Engineer said, leading his co-worker-turned-friend away from the fire.

“Ack!” 

You yelped as you tumbled face first out of Respawn, hitting the floor hard and fast. You hissed in pain, pushing yourself up and rubbing a hand over your aching face. Instinctively, you check over the various vials of chemicals you have strapped to your person, praying that your odd tumble hasn't resulted in anything breaking.

A sigh of relief passes your lips as you determine nothing to be out of place or wrecked. You pulled yourself to your feet, stretching and cracking your knuckles. Christ, the RED Heavy must have gotten you good that time, because you felt just awful. Exhaustion made you slouch slightly, and your stomach ached something fierce.

After bracing yourself for the inevitable screech of the Administrator's voice telling you that you had failed, you allowed your eyes to fall open, expecting to see Scout and Soldier's sour faces.

An unfamiliar room greeted you, wooden planks replacing the expected concrete. Dust lingered around the space, and your only company was a chittering raccoon, which startled and ran off upon seeing you.

What the fuck was going on?

“Hell-o?” you called, confusing coloring your tone, “Scout? Soldier? Anyone?”

Silence greeted you. Not even the sound of gunfire and shouting could be heard, only the sound of a fierce wind blowing outside.

Thoroughly confused and more than a little creeped out, you stepped out of Respawn, head constantly swiveling about as you called for your teammates. However, no matter how much you yelled, no one ever responded. No matter how much you searched, you couldn't find anyone. No matter how much you listened, not a soul could be heard.

“What the fuck. What the fuck.” you chanted, rubbing your arms. It was so cold here, and your outfit was designed for the New Mexico heat. 

Your breaths came in steamy puffs, and you could feel goosebumps prickling along your arms as you made your way towards what you hoped was the Intel Room. Whatever it was that was going on, you were too tired and too sore to try and puzzle it out. If this was some kind of elaborate prank, you were going to kill whoever was responsible, because the last thing you wanted to deal with after such a rough day was this creepy bullshit.

Finally, after a solid hour of getting lost within this bizarre, wintery base, you managed to find the Intel Room. A phone, blue in colour, sat mounted on the wall only a few feet away. Wasting no time, you dialed the number Miss Pauling had given you to use if there was ever an emergency, or if Engineer and Medic started spending too much time together again. (The last time they'd gone unchecked for too long, the base had become overrun by something they called Spycrabs. It took weeks for you and your team to get rid of them, though you were fairly certain both Spy and Pyro had managed to hide one to keep as a pet.)

“Aperture Bakery, where the cake definitely isn't a lie! This is Tammy speaking, how can I help you?” an obviously fake cheery voice greeted you after only two rings, and you smiled slightly.

“Jesus, Pauling, I think that's your worst ‘wrong number’ persona yet.” you groused, no real venom in your voice.

“...Y/N?” Miss Pauling’s voice suddenly became very soft and disbelieving, something you'd never heard it do.

You frowned, your brow furrowing. “Yeah, that's me, last I checked. I thought you were supposed to call me Chemist, though?”

“Holy shit, you're alive?!” she shouted, the volume causing you to pull back slightly, “How are you alive?!” 

“Uhhhhh,” you stammered, completely at a loss as to how you were supposed to respond, “I… I breathe? And eat? And sleep? Jeez, Pauling, I don't know what you want from me here.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, one that lasted so long, you began to worry Miss Pauling had hung up on you.

“Hello?” you tried.

“Oh! Shoot, sorry, I'm still here! I just-” there was a sound like papers being moved, “Chemist, what is the last thing you remember?”

“Losing the point and getting shot to pieces, why?” Was this a test? Had you already failed somehow?

“Right, yeah, okay that makes sense.” Miss Pauling took a deep breath, and you shifted uncomfortably, sensing that something was wrong.

“Chemist, Y/N, you've been declared dead for just over a week now.” 

The phone slipped from your grasp, and it was only years worth of training and quick reflexes that kept it from smashing into the wall. You gripped the phone right, pressing it tightly into your ear as you spoke. “I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right, Miss Pauling. Would you mind repeating that?”

“You were dead, Chemist. Something happened to BLU’s Respawn Machine, and it was completely destroyed before you could come back. I- I don't know how or why it took so long for you to come back this time, but I'm so glad you did.”

You all but collapsed onto the wall, your free hand tangling itself in your hair. You'd died? Like, died for real? The thought made your stomach turn, and you had to suppress the urge to vomit.

“Pauling, Christ, I-” you swallowed, breathing in through your nose, “Is everyone else okay? Oh God, please tell me no one else… died.”

“No, no, no! Everyone's- well they're not fine, but they're all alive. The Administrator called for an emergency ceasefire the minute she saw what happened, and both teams got the message pretty quickly that something was wrong. The ceasefire is still in effect, since everyone needs to be relocated to one of the other base locations.” Miss Pauling replied.

You audibly sighed in relief, tension leaving your body as you uttered a soft ‘Oh, thank God.’ “I think that's where I ended up. One of the other bases, I mean. It's fucking freezing here, Pauly.”

“Shit, you're that far out?” Miss Pauling sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Okay, just- just stay put, alright? There's not going to be any supplies there, so just fine somewhere warm and try not to move too much. I'm going to come get you, okay?”

“Okay.” you replied, smiling slightly as you heard her immediately begin to gather various items on her desk, “Thank you, Miss Pauling. I know you're busy.”

“I'm never too busy for my mercenaries, especially when they manage to defy all logic and cheat death more than they usually do.” a warm, fuzzy feeling settled in your chest at her words, and it remained even after you hung up. There was something so viscerally pleasing about being wanted, about having someone care for you.

Worn out from your return to the living world, you peeled yourself away from the wall and wandered around the base a bit, before locating what had to be the common room. A couch and a few chairs were tucked in around an unlit fireplace. There wasn't anything around to burn, and you didn't feel up to going out to find something suitable, so you chose instead to simply curl up on the couch. Once you laid down, it was as if all of your strength left your body. The aches and pains that plagued you became more apparent, and your stomach growled and gurgled loudly. You were starving, but as Miss Pauling had said, there was no food at the base, and you certainly weren't going to be able to hunt any animals that might be scuttling around.

Resigning yourself to a fitful sleep and an empty stomach, you closed your eyes and pressed yourself in closer to the back of the couch, slowly drifting off into a light slumber.

The BLU base had never been so quiet. It was not a calm quiet, like one might find if they walked into a library, or in a room full of people simply enjoying each other's company while they entertained themselves, but rather a tense, unnatural quiet. A mercenary base with nine men living in it should have been full of noise and movement, but each member of the BLU team seemed more than happy to break away from the norm today.

Engineer was holed up in his workshop, pouring over blueprints, both new and old, determined to find some flaw, some imperfection, some failure, that could give him an answer as to why the Respawn Machine had gone up in flames. He needed to find the problem so that he could fix it. He couldn't leave things as they were; everyone, even the RED team, once they'd found out what had happened, felt unsafe going through any of the Respawn Machines, since no one knew what exactly had gone wrong.

Medic was working himself to exhaustion right alongside him, while also fretting over packing up his birds and equipment on such short notice. They weren't due to rotate out to another base for another month, but the accident had pushed the timeline up to a few days. What's more is that he needed to review the applications for a new Chemist, though he'd been putting that particular task off for as long as possible. He'd never once needed to replace a teammate, nor had he ever expected to. The process of both finding someone who was Respawn compatible and willing to fight and die everyday was an arduous one indeed, and Medic could feel a stress induced migraine begin to come on whenever he even glanced at the paperwork.

Heavy had been trying his best to help Medic prepare for the move, but he, like everyone else, was feeling the effects of their friend's sudden death. He kept expecting to hear their voice coming from the kitchen, or to see them waltz through a door with some manner of bubbling condition held in their arms. Often, he caught himself setting out the supplies for two sandviches, only realizing his mistake when he had plated the food. 

Pyro had firmly planted themselves in the Chemist's room, taking special, delicate care to pack up their things into neat little boxes. When Medic had gently floated the idea of reusing their supplies for the next Chemist, Pyro had chased the doctor around the base with their fire axe. There were drawings of the two of them taped carefully to the wall, gifted to the Chemist by the resident firebug, and Pyro left them for last, wanting to keep pretending that they were simply packing up to move like the rest of them. When they'd nearly finished, Pyro noticed that the Chemist's uniforms, which had been folded up on their friend's bed, had mysteriously disappeared. They'd panicked for a moment, before the faint smell of cigarette smoke filtered through their mask.

Sure enough, the clothes were returned the following morning, freshly washed, dried, and without any wrinkles. Any and all holes or rips had been carefully hand stitched with expert precision. There was also a single rose lovingly tucked into one of the pockets on the outfit the Chemist wore most frequently.

Demo could often be found in the company of Soldier, sitting out on some roof or bridge, nursing his tenth or so bottle. Soldier didn't drink nearly as much, but when he inevitably did get drunk, only he and Demo knew about the few tears that would slip down his cheek. Neither acknowledged it, nor the sinking fear of having to inevitably go through Respawn again that sat like lead bullets in their guts.

Scout ran to ignore that same sense of fear and loss, to push it down into the deepest parts of himself. He ran from sunrise to sunset, pausing only when he absolutely needed to. Sometimes, when he would stop, panting and sweating and one small breeze away from toppling over, if he was in just the right spot at just the right time, he'd catch a glimpse of Sniper, tucked away on some far off cliffside or peering down from a tall, rickety building. The marksman hadn't been seen in the base proper since the accident, but he was always around somewhere, watching day and night to ensure nothing happened to his remaining teammates during the ceasefire.

So it was no wonder that it was him who first spotted a frantic looking Miss Pauling as she parked her scooter and dashed off towards one of the base entrances.

Curious, Sniper pushed himself up out of his hiding place, ignored the burning sensation that rippled through his taunt, stiff muscles, and started to make his way down to the base. He didn't make any attempt to soften his footsteps, but he also didn't call any attention to himself. The dark haired woman had been heading for Engineer's workshop, so that's where Sniper went.

Just before he could reach the door that led to the workshop, he collided with someone coming down the hall. He let out a quiet ‘oof’ and stumbled back, baring his teeth instinctively when he saw an expensive suit and steely blue eyes. He calmed, however, when he saw that this Spy was dressed in his team's colours 

“Bushman.” came Spy's snide greeting. The Frenchman eyed Sniper up and down, “You look like shit.”

“I could say the same for you, mate.” Sniper sneered back, and he really could have.

There were heavy bags around Spy's eyes, and he smelled as though he'd been absolutely chewing through his expensive, imported cigarettes. Clearly, the man had been coping just as well as Sniper had.

“I'm shocked to see zhat you are no longer wallowing in your mobile hovel, or rolling around in zhe dirt, or whatever it is that you've been doing zhese days.” Spy raised a brow, “What has brought you back to zhis cheap imitation of civilization?”

Now, normally, this would be the point in their conversation where Sniper would tell Spy to not-so-kindly fuck off, but the Australian was running on coffee and will, and Spy was good at getting information. If Miss Pauling’s sudden appearance was supposed to be a secret, then Spy would be Sniper’s first choice for a partner in crime.

“Miss Pauling just showed up lookin’ real frazzled, and I want to know why. I didn't get any alerts or messages, did you?” Sniper asked.

Spy pursed his lips. “Non, I did not.”

Both men's gazes flicked towards the workshop door, and before either could contemplate if this was a good idea or not, Spy had cloaked and Sniper was pushing the door open slowly. A conversation came into earshot as the door opened silently.

“Engie! Thank God you're here!”

“Miss Pauling? What are you doin’ here?”

“There's no time, I need to borrow your truck!”

“Whu- mah truck? What for?”

“Listen, I need to get up North. Fast. And my scooter isn't going to cut it for this trip. Also, I think I might need that emergency dispenser you guys built a while back.”

Sniper's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. Miss Pauling did many things to people, but healing them wasn't something he'd ever heard of her doing.

“Well, now, see that there dispenser is still a prototype. It ain't ready for fieldwork yet- HEY!”

“Sorry Engie! Look, I promise I will bring the truck and the dispenser back, but I really need to get going! If this works, I'll bring back something that will make up for all of this.”

“And just what the hell would that be?!”

“Your Chemist!”

Sniper jolted, his body moving faster than his mind, which was still struggling to understand what he'd just heard. He gripped the guardrails that overlooked the lower floor, arriving just in time to see Miss Pauling putting the pedal to the metal and hauling ass out of the workshop in Engineer's truck. Engineer himself was standing stock still on the workshop floor, hand still raised mid gesture.

A set of hands suddenly grabbed Sniper by the shoulders and spun him around. Spy was staring at him, eyes alight in a way Sniper hadn't seen in a long time.

“Bushman, you can fit at least four people in your disgusting van, yes?” the man asked, squeezing harder when Sniper's mouth failed to make words come out, “Well?!”

“Eh- ur- yeah mate, that's right.” Sniper nodded finally, still reeling from the idea that Chemist might still be alive, “What's it to ya, Spook?”

“Gather up Soldier, Heavy, and Demo. I will take Medic, Scout, Pyro and Engineer in my car. We need to get going immediately if we want any chance of catching up to Miss Pauling!” he exclaimed.

Sniper's eyes widened as he understood what Spy was saying. The Frenchman wanted to follow Miss Pauling, to see their supposedly not dead teammate for himself, and he knew the rest of them well enough to know that if they didn't take them along, then the others would find their own way to them. That, or they'd simply destroy the base if left alone for too long, and Sniper was willing to bet that Spy didn't want to risk Pyro or Soldier destroying his precious suit collection.

‘Still,’ Sniper mused, ‘It’s nice to see that Spook cares about our feelings, even if it is mostly for ‘is benefit.’

“Right, I'll go round up the boys. You focus on snapp’n Engie outta his stupor, yeah?” Sniper agreed.

Spy nodded, and the two separated, with Sniper wasting no time in flying back down the hall. Obsessively stalking- er, observing everyone over the course of the week had granted him a decent understanding of where they chose to spend their time while in mourning.

Heavy and Medic were up first, and Sniper knew exactly where they'd be. With a swift kick, he burst into the Medbay, startling both the pair and all of the birds.

“Augh! Herr Sniper, vhat do you think you're doing, barging in here like-” Medic started, but Sniper cut him off.

“Can it, Doc! Pauling was just ‘ere, and she says Y/N is alive!” Sniper exclaimed. The other two men's eyes widened, and Medic almost dropped the glass beaker he was holding. “She sped off a moment ago, and we're gonna follow ‘er. Spy's taking you, Scooter, Engie and Py in ‘is car, while I'm takin’ the rest.”

The dynamic duo shook off their shock and nodded.

“Heavy will grab Soldier and Demolitions. Leetle Sniper will find Pyro in their room.” Heavy paused, then fixed Sniper with a stern look. “Be very careful how you tell news. Fire starter has… not been taking loss well. May attack, if they think you are playing joke.”

Sniper gulped quietly. “Think we should hold off on tellin’ them why we're really leaving?”

Medic shook his head quickly. “Nien. Zhough it is not alvays apparent, Pyro is quite intelligent. Lying to zhem about zhis will not end well for any of us.”

The marksman winced, remembering the feeling of fire blasting across his skin. “Too right. Okay, I'll handle Pyro, and Heavy’s gettin’ the drunk bastards. Hopefully they can sober up a bit, because I do not want those two sicking up in my van.”

Suddenly, a thought came to him.

“Oh, and bring yer Medigun. Miss Pauling mentioned something about need’n the emergency dispenser, but Engie didn't seem too confident that it would work.”

Medic's face crumpled up in distress. “And he shouldn't be! Zhat machine is just as likely to kill both zhe Chemist and Frauline Pauling as it is to heal zhem.”

“Shit.” Sniper swore, “We better be quick, then.”

The three men scattered, each one going in a different direction. Sniper hauled ass towards the barracks, eyes flicking to the different class symbols that marked each of the doors. He had only ever been here once, but picking out the little blue and yellow picture of a bubbling vial was easy enough.

He skidded to a stop before the door, taking a second to rap his knuckles against the wood before pushing the door open. 

Pyro was where Heavy had said they would be, sitting on their friend's neatly made bed, their stuffed Balloonicorn clasped tightly in their grip as they rocked slightly. Pyro tilted their head at Sniper, communicating their confusion at the man's sudden appearance.

“C’mon, matchstick. We gotta get going right quick now.” Sniper panted, motioning for Pyro to follow, “Miss Pauling was just here, and she seems pretty damn convinced that our Chemist isn't as dead as we all thought.”

Pyro stilled on the bed, their masked face staring right into Sniper's soul. The Australian licked his chapped lips, feeling a sense of unease creep across the nape of his neck. After a moment of relative silence, Pyro seemed to find no deception in his words, and quickly leapt up, pausing only to grab their axe and holster it on their back.

“Huddah huddah huddah!” They yelled, voice muffled by the mask. A thick rubber glove suddenly gripped Sniper's vest, and the marksman found himself getting dragged along towards an exit.

Barely able to keep up with Pyro’s quick stride, Sniper stumbled a bit, all but crashing into the firebug when the large door before them slid open. 

“Let's go, let's go, let's go!” Scout's voice carried across the desert base as the young man practically flew towards the workshop, clearly having been told the news, “Py, Snipes, let's friggin hustle! We got places to be, ya bunch a slowasses!”

“Piss off, ya bloody roadrunner! We're goin’ as fast as we can!” Sniper shot back, no real venom in his voice. He knew that Scout had been hit hard by the loss of their teammate, especially since he and Soldier had been the last ones to see them. The kid was more sensitive then the rest of them, especially when it came to someone he cared about dying

Scout slowed ever so slightly, just enough to grab ahold of Pyro's hand. The runner and the arsonist took off together to where Spy was waiting, and Sniper deviated off towards his van.

Heavy was already waiting for him when he arrived, the hulking giant holding both Soldier and Demo over his shoulders. The two had clearly had more to drink than usual, because neither of them were conscious. Sniper contemplated waking them for a moment; this was important after all, and he knew neither man would want to be left out of the loop.

And then he considered how completely insufferable the duo would be if they were awake, and he simply nodded towards the back of the van as he moved to sit in the driver's seat.

Heavy joined him a few moments later, and they were off, speeding down a dusty New Mexico road. Spy's expensive, gleaming vehicle was tearing down the same road as them, the light of the gradually setting sun bouncing off the well maintained blue paint job. He'd told Sniper the name once, while also threatening to gut the marksman if he so much as stepped near the vehicle, but Sniper couldn't be bothered to memorize it.

Sniper had thought that Spy wouldn't ever dare go as fast as he was now, what with all the potholes and tumbleweeds around that could potentially damage the Frenchman's precious ride, but perhaps he'd underestimated how much losing the Chemist had weighed on their most elusive teammate. Spy, for all his aloofness, did occasionally let slip the fact that he actually liked his teammates. Sometimes. Rarely. And usually in some strange, hard to interpret way.

He saw Scout's head pop out of one of the backseat windows, and the lad raised a hand to shield his eyes, like he was trying to see something in the distance. He must have spotted something other than desert, because he pointed towards an upcoming side road before popping back inside.

Sure enough, the car skidded around the corner, and Sniper followed, squinting his own eyes in an attempt to see what Scout had been pointing at.

Tire tracks marred the road, ones that hadn't been caused by Spy's quick turn, but that were also very recent. Sniper grinned and pressed harder on the gas, accelerating until he was only a few feet behind the other vehicle. 

He'd never had a target escape before, and Miss Pauling wasn't about to make him break that streak.

Cold.

You were so cold.

You'd awoken to the sound of your teeth chattering, the sound only made worse when another wave of ripples inevitably wracked your prone form. Each breath came as a gasping wheeze, catching on the film of phlegm that had made a home in your throat and chest. Your stomach felt almost alive in your guts, spitting acid on your sensitive middle as it growled and snarled and roared for food that you couldn't give it. 

You tried to get up, but your body began to shake and wobble dangerously as you began putting pressure on your forearm. Apparently, all your energy had been diverted to shivering in a, perhaps futile, attempt to keep your internal organs from freezing over. Breathing out a puff of warm air, you slid your hands over your chest and stomach, eyes widening as you realized that something was deeply, deeply wrong.

Gone was your well earned muscles and insulating body fat. You felt dangerously thin, like a starved greyhound. Whatever dark magic and science pulled you back from death had seemingly lost most of your fat and muscle reserves in the process. Truly, it was a miracle that you'd been able to walk at all!

You were in a bad spot, and you weren't sure Respawn would be able to save you again, should the worst happen. After all, no merc had ever starved to death before, and you had no idea what would happen if you did. 

‘That’s not going to happen.’ You tried to reassure yourself, ‘Pauling will come to get me.’

How long had you been asleep? It hadn't felt like long, but there were no windows in this common room, and it wasn't as though you could rely on your stomach to tell you that a great deal of time had passed.

With little else to do, you lay your head back down on the cold couch cushions, attempting to curl up closer to the plush, velvety fabric. You tucked your arms into your armpits and folded your knees up close to your chest as you shivered once again. You'd lost feeling in your toes and fingers, but you could still, with great difficulty, wiggle them, which you counted as a win. Your eyes slipped shut as you turned your face down towards your chest, nose buried in the fabric of your uniform in a desperate attempt to seek out any scrap of warmth.

Sleep came easy enough, but it was far from a peaceful rest. Nightmares of endless darkness and being reborn wrong plagued your mind. You woke frequently, but exhaustion dragged you back into unconsciousness just as quickly. Each time you awoke, you were reminded of just how hungry you were, and the urge to gnaw at your own dangerously thin arms grew in intensity. Thirst plagued you as well, and each time your failing mind allowed it, you licked desperately at the inside of your mouth, trying to acquire some moisture for your sandpaper-esque throat.

On your next return to the waking world, as you stared out towards the door that led to the hallway, contemplating drinking one of your fatal mixtures, if only to end your suffering and quicken your return to Respawn, a sound echoed out into the lonely building. You lifted your head, blearily squinting towards the door. Had that been real? Or simply an illusion, a trick crafted by your starved brain?

“Chem? Chem, can you hear me?!”

Miss Pauling.

She did come for you!

You grinned, the action pulling at your chapped lips. You tried to call out, but all you managed was a slight cough. Huffing, you flopped your head back down, eyes locked on the door. You knew that she knew where the phone was in this place; there was no way someone like Miss Pauling didn’t know the ins and outs of every place her mercs set up shop in, so it was only a matter of time before she found you.

Sure enough, after a few minutes passed you began to hear footsteps pounding down the hall. It wasn’t the heavy, familiar footfalls of your team, but rather a lighter, quieter sound. A blurry purple figure entered your field of vision, and after your eyes finally focused, you saw a disheveled, red-cheeked Miss Pauling standing before you.

“Hey there, stranger.” You rasped, wincing slightly when you felt hands suddenly cup your cheeks. Pauling’s hands were warm and slightly calloused, and you blinked slowly, leaning into her touch.

“Jesus Christ, Chem. You never do anything by halves, huh?” Pauling laughed, though the noise came out more like a sob.

“Can't. I wouldn't be a very good Chemist if I did, right?” You joked softly, your eyelids drooping slowly as you began to relax, “Things’d be spillin’ all over the place.”

“Woah, hey!” A series of quick, rapid taps against your cheeks made you open your eyes again, “Stay awake, okay? You're in rough shape, but I brought- well, stole but that's really not important- Engie's truck and his little mini dispenser thing-”

“You stole Engie’s truck?” You interrupted, voice tinged with a sense of horrified awe, “He's gonna kill you.”

The raven haired woman gave you a half smile as she reached an arm under you, pulling you up to your feet to stand beside her. Your vision swam, and you had to lean heavily into her.

“I think bringing you back will soften him up a bit.” She said, looping your arm around her shoulders, “Come on, let's get you to the truck. You look like you're about to pass out.”

“I might.” You admitted. “Got anything to eat? I'm starving.”

Miss Pauling glanced over your emaciated form. “That… actually might be the case. When Respawn brings someone back, it usually leaves them feeling a little bit drained, and it's why you're all so hungry at the end of a battle. Respawning takes energy, and I'd say this last trip took almost all of yours. It ate right through your fat and muscle reserves!”

“Ah,” You replied, “I was afraid that might be the case. What happens if I Respawn again?”

“It's… it's probably best if we don't test that out.”

The two of you walked through the base in silence after that, with you leaning heavily on Miss Pauling for support. She didn't seem to mind, however; though you often caught her casting worried glances at you. You felt the temperature in the air steadily drop as you reached the entrance to the base, yet you were still caught off guard when a chilly blast of wintry air smacked you in the face. Snow swirled all around you, coating the base and battlefield in white. The first rays of an early morning sunrise were just starting to peak over the horizon, giving you enough light to see by.

In the distance, you could see Engie's truck, the blue vehicle standing out amidst the white. However, something seemed… off about the truck. You squinted, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Hey P, did you bring a… a dog with you?” You mumbled, tilting your head at the canine shape that stood in the headlights.

“What?” Miss Pauling looked confused for a moment, before she, too, saw the creature. “What is… uh oh.”

“Uh oh? Why uh oh?” You questioned, before taking a closer look at the dog, which was now slowly moving towards the two of you.

Oh.

Uh oh indeed.

It wasn't a dog.

It was a wolf.

The beast was huge, with a thick, ungroomed black coat and amber eyes that glowed a bright, golden color in the early morning. It growled as it approached, and you could see saliva frothing at its mouth.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” You balked, stumbling as Miss Pauling pulled you both back, “A rabid wolf. Why not!”

“How did it even contract rabies all the way out here?!” Miss Pauling yelped, quickly drawing her pistol. You eyed the small gun, wondering if she could aim well enough to shoot the hulking animal with your dead weight hanging off her.

Left with no other options, you weakly pawed at your coat, trying to locate something that could help you fight off the rabid beast. You had all the ingredients needed to make something truly dangerous, but if you tried to mix them now, you'd just as likely make something that would kill you before the wolf could.

Grabbing something that would at least blind the animal, you braced yourself as best you could, ready to try and help Miss Pauling fight.

“INCOMING!”

You, Miss Pauling, and the wolf all turned your heads as one, eyes widening when Sniper's van suddenly emerged from the snowstorm like the chariot of an angry Australian god. The vehicle slammed into the wolf, sending it flying out of sight. A few seconds later, an expensive looking car skidded to a stop a few feet away, one of the back doors opening before the car could even fully stop. 

Scout came barreling out first, slipping on the snow and ice as he tried to regain his balance. Sniper, Heavy, and Spy followed suit, with the other's appearing behind them. They all looked absolutely horrendous; their eye bags had eye bags, Soldier and Sniper clearly needed to shave, and none of them were even remotely dressed for the cold weather of the north.

But they had never looked better to you.

Scout spotted you first, and you hardly had time to blink before the Bostonian was upon you, yanking you out of Miss Pauling's hold and into his arms.

“You're alive! Holy crap you're alive!” Scout cried, spinning you around and pressing his face into your shoulder.

Pyro joined you next, the arsonist all but smothering both you and Scout as they sobbed. You patted their back, leaning into their warm suit, attempting to leech their abundant body heat.

Before you could get a word out, a fierce yell startled you into a defensive stance. Suddenly, you were being held up by your armpits and being shook like a maraca.

“DO NOT PULL SUCH A STUNT AGAIN, MAGGOT!” Soldier yelled angrily, but you caught a glimpse of wet eyes under his helmet, “IF YOU DIE LIKE THAT AGAIN I WILL PERSONALLY RIP YOUR YELLOW-BELLIED SOUL RIGHT OUT OF HELL!”

“Sol, put them down, consarnit!” Engineer chided, smacking Soldier in the side. Once the helmeted man set you back down onto the ground, Engineer pulled you into a warm, firm hug, his flesh hand coming to rest on the back of your neck.

“Hey Engie.” You murmured softly, “Don’t be mad at Miss P, okay?”

“Buddy, ah’m gonna be treatin’ her to a steak dinner after this.” he chuckled, before gently passing you over to someone else, “Here, Demo. Be careful with ‘em. They ain’t lookin’ too good right now.”

“Aye, ya look like shite, dont’cha?” Demo laughed softly, gently ruffling your hair before pulling you into a hug, tucking you under his chin. “Ah, I’m glad yer alright. Ye gave us a right scare, ya wee bastard!”

“Sorry.” You chuckled, leaning into his chest. Demo patted your shoulder, before you were released and spun around to see Medic, Heavy, Spy and Sniper. While Heavy lifted you up into one arm, Miss Pauline began questioning how the mercenaries had found out where you and her were.

Medic descended upon you like a mother hen, fretting about the poor state you were in while simultaneously raving about the unexplored limits of the Respawn Machines. He plucked a few tablets out of a bottle in one of his coat pockets, instructing you to swallow, not chew them as Sniper handed you a well worn thermos. It was warm, and when you opened the lid, the smell of coffee hit your nose. A quick sip revealed that it was made just how you liked, which made you smile, because it meant that the usually unsociable marksman had gone out of his way to make the drink specifically for you.

“Here, mon ami,” Spy strode forward, a blanket draped over his arm. He wrapped it around your shoulders gently, tucking it in tightly, almost like your parents would do for you when you were small, “this should warm you up a bit.”

The tenderness of your usually tough, rowdy teammates made you sniffle, and you snuggled in closer to Heavy, clutching your thermos.

“I love you guys.” You said, your voice wavering with emotion, rather than cold this time, “Seriously. I- there isn’t a better team out there.”

Your praise made the gathered men puff up slightly. It was clear your opinion mattered a great deal to them.

“Hell yeah! We’re da’ freakin’ best!” Scout shouted.

“Leetle Chemist is included in that.” Heavy added, and you blushed slightly.

“Heavy is right, mein Chemiker.” Medic agreed, “Jou have cheated Death more zhen anyone else before jou! It is truly amazing!”

“I don’t feel amazing.” You said, quickly sipping the offered coffee.

“Vell, you are severely malnutritioned, so I am not surprised.” Medic replied. “Ah, don’t drink zhat so fast. Jou’ll just zhrow it back up.” 

Once the word ‘malnutritioned’ passed the doctor’s lips, you could practically hear Engineer’s ears perk up. You were sure many home cooked meals with Engie in his workshop were in your future.

“Come on, mate, let’s get em’ outta the cold, yeah?” Sniper suggested to Heavy, gesturing towards his van. Spy snorted.

“Please, you want to have our dear Chemist rest in zhat thing? The last thing zhey need is to be surrounded by piss and crocodile jerky.” he snarked, which drew a disgruntled sneer from Sniper.

“Oi! My van is perfectly clean, and its leagues bettah than your dinky lil’ car! You just wanna hog all their attention ‘cause you’re a needy, selfish buggah!” Sniper shot back.

Heavy sighed deeply as the two men started arguing, before looking down at you.

“Heavy thinks it would be best for leetle Chemist to ride with Engineer in his truck for now. Team is very excited you are alive, and this makes them act-” the two of you winced as Soldier started yelling again, “more like loud idiots than usual, да?”

“At this point, big guy, I’d welcome the noise.” You admitted, “It was… quiet here. And lonely.”

Heavy looked at you with a saddened expression. “How long were you alone for?”

“A… a day, I think. It was hard to tell, since there were no windows.” You glanced over in the direction the wolf had been flung. “Honestly, that might have been for the best, considering what was waiting out here for me and Miss Pauling when we finally got outside.”

“Was wolf, yes? Heavy could not see very well, but it looked like wolf.” The heavy weapons expert said as he started off towards Engineer’s truck.

“Yeah, it was a wolf. A rabid one. You guys showed up just in time. I was afraid it would get close enough to bite us.” You shivered, pulling your blanket in closer.

“Miss Pauling would not have allowed that. She is small woman, yes, but very fierce.” Heavy paused for a moment, looked over at Scout and Soldier, who were talking to Miss Pauling, then leaned in to whisper: “She is better shot than some of the team. Do not tell them I said this.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.” You winked as Heavy gently set you down in the passenger seat, careful not to jostle you. The seat was still warm from the heater, and you relished in it, almost not even noticing when Engineer slipped into the driver’s seat next to you. 

“Buckle up, darl’.” He grinned, reaching to pull the seat belt over your chest.

“Thanks, Engie.” You returned his smile and lay back, resting your head against your seat belt. 

As you got comfortable, you noticed that the truck had an extra few passengers. Pyro waved to you from the back as both Soldier and Scout climbed up into the bed. Both men looked visibly cold, but they stubbornly plonked themselves down, dead set on staying near you. Just in case.

Spy and Sniper finally stopped squabbling when they realized that you were no longer around to fight over, and both slunk back to their respective vehicles as Engineer started up his truck. Miss Pauling and Medic followed Spy, while Demo and Heavy trailed after Sniper. Knowing your team, there would be another fight the second you all stopped for gas or food, likely over who you should sit with for the rest of the drive back. Honestly, it was like being back in school, surrounded by a friend group of mentally ill lunatics who fought like spoiled dogs for your attention.

You wouldn’t change a thing. You were, after all, just as needy and clingy as the rest of them, and you knew you’d be even more desperate to be near someone all the time, afraid to be back in that horrid silence.

How wonderful for you, then, that you had 8 men, 1 woman, and 1 Pyro who would be more than happy to indulge you.

[fortress-rising]

WHY ARE YOU ALL SO HANDSOME AAAAAAAAAAAA

Maybe we should do something to capitalize on how attractive you find the team...

[another-delta-lover]

35 notes and I'll make Francis's full team askblog 🛐🛐🛐🛐

[magick-mr-skull]

Congrats To America For Coming Out!

[fortress-substitution-team]

hey guys I'm alive but still in exam period so I still won't be able to upload till next week, sorry

BUT I wanna do something for valentine's day, so I'll leave here some ships to choose from, I'll draw the top 3 ships of the poll :3 remember it will be as fem fortress with my designs

if your fav isn't here, write it in the comments or reblogs!!