In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Thirty-Nine: Bonnie and Clyde in the Plague-Riddled Streets of Guilt

        "So, you and Medic, huh?" Scout asks Neuro to fill in the silence as we get ushered along through a hastily made compound in a desolate school. Neuro hasn't been caught with her hands being free yet since the way fabric hangs on her body allows her to pretend like she's still restrained. She still has her mask on and refuses to speak for the time being. We walk in a line, Miss Pauling leading followed by me, Neuro, Scout, Engie, and then Sniper. "Y'know, I see it. Medic is totally into crazy chicks, and I think you fit his bill."

We haven't been told to shut up yet, so these BLUs work significantly differently than the ones back at the Vanguard. We go up a staircase and once we're at the top; we get separated into two groups. I refrain from protesting when Sniper gets punched in the face for doing said thing, the rest of us already knowing how this goes. Scout and Neuro get put with me as Sniper, Engie, and Miss Pauling get hauled straight forward as we take a turn. We walk through a hallway bridge with windows that allow us the look outside. The courtyard is dark and the two guards posted outside carry flashlights rather than have a large floodlight illuminate the entire area. We're pushed further along before getting pulled into a science lab, sat down on stools around a table, promptly left alone with our guards standing post outside the door.

"Accomplice, you still have that knife?" Scout whispers. I nod and shift my hands behind my back to get the scalpel to slip out enough for me to grab onto the handle. I haphazardly saw away at the duct tape as Neuro sits still should anyone walk in during my actions. "We have to go find the other three."

"One step at a time, Scout," I quietly differ. "We don't even know what they want this time. If they want us dead, then acting without thinking would be us helping them move their aim along."

I stop moving when the door opens again, an old man in a wheelchair coming in. "Team Fortress. It's been too long."

"No offense," Scout mouths, "but I have no clue who you are."

"I don't blame you," he hoarsely crows. "Many mercenaries don't take down faces with names. I'm sure Miss Fredrickson here remembers."

I sit still and observe, studying his face and trying to find out where he supposedly thinks I know him from. "I don't know anyone as old as you."

"My body is older than I am, and that's what happens when you almost die from a lack of Australium."

Fear pings in my chest. That can't be George. My jaw clenches and I slouch while I'm seated. "How are you alive?"

"Having hysteria makes it hard to shoot. A mighty unconventional way to hold a gun, I might add."

I missed. I missed with the barrel of the shotgun to his forehead. I missed. How did I fucking miss? There was no way I could've missed. Not unless I slipped at the last moment and ended up shooting the floor instead. Even so, the explosion should've got him. How is he alive? Why is he alive? What does he want with us? With me.

Neuro watches one of them set a box down in front of her. She stares down at it and doesn't reach lest they find out she's broke free. They rip her mask off of her, and she groans as she flinches her head to the side, squinting her eyes at the sudden addition of light. She looks different from what I imagined, the biggest difference being her dark purple-colored hair. We already established she's a woman on her own agenda, what with her voluntary silence to stay in character even though we've been abducted. Her hair is long enough to touch her shoulders and is wavy, the roots at the top of her head fading back to its natural dark brown. She wears round glasses like Medic's but larger that shift at the bottom of her nose until she looks up to have them slide back up the bridge, blue eyes with heavy bags under them. She sighs and speaks with nuance. "The hell do you want?"