In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Thirty-One: Ready, Freddie?

        My alarm clock goes off, and my heart pings as I get out of bed to walk across my room to my desk to shut it off. It is a brand-spanking-new day at the fort, and the promise of nothing bad happening is looking strong. A gun sits next to my papers, and I take a few moments to process that everyone carries their weapons at all times. It wasn't there when I went to bed. Who... Who put that there?

"Buenos dias, Cómplice!" Soldier blares as he bursts into my room, my door slamming against the wall. I hold the gun in my hand, acting as though I was legitimately about to do something with it. "Why are you holding a gun?"

"Why are you breaking into people's homes at six-thirty in the morning?" I answer rhetorically.

"PT time, el gusano. That's Spanish for maggot," he rumbles. Heavy opens the bathroom door already dressed, staring at Soldier. "We are going to go run a mile."

"Нет, мы не," Heavy opposes and closes the door again.

"Scout and I will be running a mile," Soldier announces. "Do you want to--"

"No," I scoff. "No, I do not want to run a mile."

"Your PT Beast score is going to be docked until you do," he threatens. "I'll catch you on the make-up day. Your mile time will be mine, sister." He closes my front door, and Scout can be heard a few seconds after, taunting Soldier about how much faster he is.

This oddly enough reminds me of how Heavy said I should be ready today. For what? Who knows. Can never go wrong with wine pants and an amethyst dress shirt. I open the bathroom door, Heavy standing at his sink with an electric shaver. He looks at my reflection in the mirror and rubs his chin. "Are you ready?"

"For what? No one has told me what I'm supposed to be ready for."

"You will see," he says

"Then no, I'm not ready," I whisper to myself. Heavy picks up and leaves, and I take a shower and brush my teeth before getting dressed. I take my gun and my papers, taking a deep breath as I shut my door behind me. Miss Pauling did me a favor by writing down notes on the contracts to help me narrow down who would be the best for each job. She also suggested that I get the team to sit down together every once and a while to address things happening at the fort, upcoming events, relaying information from the Administrator to them, and just to check in to let them know I care. She didn't say it exactly like that, but I choose to see it as me making sure the guys know I care.

The sun peaks over the top of the building and paints the sky a lemon yellow. Scout sprints past me in full stride with a greeting and I yell a "good morning" back to him.

Medic stands in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee to shake off last night's hangover. "Guten Morgen."

"Hi, Medic," I sigh as I seat myself at one of the tables. I think there might have been a contract for Medic, I'm not too sure. "Hey, do you have any clue what Heavy is planning?"

He chuckles. "I usually don't. I'm used to going along with whatever the rest of the team says."

"You, too?"

"You'd be surprised how much of your work used to fall on me, Spy, and Engineer," he tells. "But, yes. I spend most of my time following someone different during the tides of war and such." He sits down and sets a coffee mug down in front of me when taking a sip of his own.

"Thank you. What do you mean by that?" I ask.

"We've been on local ceasefire for quite some time now, but I'd run alongside whoever needed healing during a battle with whatever team the Administrator sent us out to fight," Medic tells, picking up his pencil and newspaper. "I don't know if she'd authorize you to participate, but it'll be exciting to have a new member contribute her own abilities in such a match."