Experimental ch 4
I think that Aly's the only one who's reading this SO HAVE ANOTHER ALY!
(note: it's taken me four chapters to introduce eight of nine classes. We're in this for the long haul)
TITLE: Experimental
CHAPTER: 4/?
RATING: PG-13
FANDOM: Team Fortress 2
CHARACTERS: all nine classes, Medic centric
SUMMERY: RED has decided to try something with this 'Experimental' team. Some members decide to try some new things themselves.
Links to past chapters here
Demo stowed her things away and then changed into a red shirt, well worn black pants, and heavily scuffed boots. Medic thought the ensemble suited the... explosive woman's personality much better than the muted shades she was wearing when she came in. Something in the swearing seemed to draw Scout, and the two of them lead the way to the mess hall, announcing the group's arrival by way by way of thick Scottish brogue and accompanying twittery Boston teen.
It seemed that by that point the men had figured out what the women were there for. They were met with both open hostility and dismissive grins, which all six ignored. Medic was glad that they knew not to get flustered over their comrades' attitudes; they'd see plenty more of the same on the field and getting flustered there would get you killed by a BLU. The women spent the time in line conversing amongst themselves, mostly about battle strategies at Soldier's insistence, and aside from the glares burning into the back of their necks they were left alone.
Medic knew, and was sure the others knew, that it was only a matter of time before there was an... incident. She had faith enough that the instigating man would be left on the ground with a bruised ego and possibly some broken bones; the only question was when it would happen.
They were all seated at a table--the end, against the wall, putting a buffer of empty seats between them and the rest of the trainees--eating the slop and continuing their discussion on strategy, when Engineer suddenly shouted and jumped for no apparent reason.
The Texas looked over her shoulder to glare at the men sitting at the next table, but they simply looked back with confusion and more than a little 'this chick is crazy.' Then there was a perplexing laugh seeming to emanate from nowhere, the pitch far too high to belong to even the youngest scouts.
Engineer's posture and expression instantly turned inward and irritated at the sound. Medic's suspicions were confirmed when a puff of smoke revealed a blond woman wearing a fashionable blue pinstripe pantsuit. The mask over her eyes did little to disguise her bone structure, and allowed her shoulder length hair to frame her face in defined waves.
"Oh, my dear Engineer," she said, her words tinged with a French accent and more than a little upper class sarcasm, "I 'ope I did not startle you."
"Yeah, I'm sure blowin' in my ear wasn't supposed to do anythin', Spah," Engineer retorted grumpily.
The blond woman laughed again and gracefully sat down in the next available chair to the right of Scout. She was in the process of flicking open a cigarette case when Soldier rounded on her with 'are you willing to die for your country, maggot?' Medic, and all the others, wondered if Soldier had even noticed that over half the present team was from a country other than the US.
The newly arrived teammate eyed the nigh frothing woman with the same detached interest often seen on Medic's face and then replied with carefully chosen words that seemed quite deliberately devoid of the previously heard sarcasm. Soldier didn't seem to notice as she saluted and sat back down to her dinner.
Spy looked down her nose at the fare as she lit her cigarette. "I see the provisions are as was expected..." She considered, "Then again, it does look slightly better than the grease 'anded to us as fish an hour ago."
"'Us?'" Demo asked, eyebrow rising over her patch.
Even as it was asked, the opposite seat was filled. Given the woman's skinny, leggy build and the process of elimination, she had to be their Sniper. Black hair was cut level with the jaw, her head covered by a hat and her eyes by a pair of aviator style sunglasses. She looked generally bored and willing to be anywhere else but there and declined to make any welcome aside from the slightest wave of her hand towards the rest of her team.
Spy gestured to the silent woman, smoke following her hand in a wispy trail. "In the name of saving fuel the convict was forced to transport the both of us."
Sniper's only response was to roll her eyes and adjust her glasses.
Medic knew that these were the only two women who'd actually been in the business before RED recruited them. Well, Medic had training in the art of dispensing health and death with an even hand while the walls crumbled around her, but she would admit that the bombs were falling at random back then, not with the definite direction they'd face on the field. With Spy and Sniper's arrival the only woman left was the one Medic was most concerned about.
While the other classes required relatively minor adjustments to account for a woman's lack of broad shoulders, such as Engineer's plan to build greater numbers of weaker sentries than her male counterparts, the job of Heavy wasn't something that could be changed that much. They were meant to be tanks, pure and simple, and Medic wasn't sure how much the minigun's weight could be cut without severely reducing the effectiveness. There had to be some faith in the woman's skills, but what kind of woman could fill those shoes? Medic remembered subjects subjected to growth hormones, steroids, male hormones, and the results were overwhelmingly, well, male, in the worst sense of the word.
Medic knew it was illogical; if she could do her job then the Heavy could be as masculine as she wanted, and this desire for an actual woman was probably just an overdeveloped feminist sense clouding her judgment. Still...
"Yo," Scout said with a mouth full of creamed corn, "where's the big gal?"
Sniper finally broke her silence with a heavy dose of Australian, explaining Spy's convict comment. "Well, mate, they meant to have her here today but there was something holding her up--"
"Ah, paperwork," Spy cut in, "the chains that bind us all."
"--so she'll be here in four days," the Aussie continued. "We start tomorrow without her."
Sniper was distinctly anti-social and only took part in the conversation involving strategy, where Spy would discuss errant things with the women near her as long as she could continue tormenting Engineer between topics. Medic could understand the way the Texan reacted any time the topic of their Spy came up, and was glad that the two classes spent little time in the other's vicinity during battle (at least, not when they're on the same time). Sniper's distance would be no problem as the only time she should cross paths with the others during the day would be if she was switching vantage points.
All in all, despite her generally pessimistic attitude when it came to the human race and lingering worry about their absent Heavy, Medic felt generally hopeful about the Experimental's chances. 'Hopeful' meaning she gave them a slim chance at success.
(note: it's taken me four chapters to introduce eight of nine classes. We're in this for the long haul)
TITLE: Experimental
CHAPTER: 4/?
RATING: PG-13
FANDOM: Team Fortress 2
CHARACTERS: all nine classes, Medic centric
SUMMERY: RED has decided to try something with this 'Experimental' team. Some members decide to try some new things themselves.
Links to past chapters here
Demo stowed her things away and then changed into a red shirt, well worn black pants, and heavily scuffed boots. Medic thought the ensemble suited the... explosive woman's personality much better than the muted shades she was wearing when she came in. Something in the swearing seemed to draw Scout, and the two of them lead the way to the mess hall, announcing the group's arrival by way by way of thick Scottish brogue and accompanying twittery Boston teen.
It seemed that by that point the men had figured out what the women were there for. They were met with both open hostility and dismissive grins, which all six ignored. Medic was glad that they knew not to get flustered over their comrades' attitudes; they'd see plenty more of the same on the field and getting flustered there would get you killed by a BLU. The women spent the time in line conversing amongst themselves, mostly about battle strategies at Soldier's insistence, and aside from the glares burning into the back of their necks they were left alone.
Medic knew, and was sure the others knew, that it was only a matter of time before there was an... incident. She had faith enough that the instigating man would be left on the ground with a bruised ego and possibly some broken bones; the only question was when it would happen.
They were all seated at a table--the end, against the wall, putting a buffer of empty seats between them and the rest of the trainees--eating the slop and continuing their discussion on strategy, when Engineer suddenly shouted and jumped for no apparent reason.
The Texas looked over her shoulder to glare at the men sitting at the next table, but they simply looked back with confusion and more than a little 'this chick is crazy.' Then there was a perplexing laugh seeming to emanate from nowhere, the pitch far too high to belong to even the youngest scouts.
Engineer's posture and expression instantly turned inward and irritated at the sound. Medic's suspicions were confirmed when a puff of smoke revealed a blond woman wearing a fashionable blue pinstripe pantsuit. The mask over her eyes did little to disguise her bone structure, and allowed her shoulder length hair to frame her face in defined waves.
"Oh, my dear Engineer," she said, her words tinged with a French accent and more than a little upper class sarcasm, "I 'ope I did not startle you."
"Yeah, I'm sure blowin' in my ear wasn't supposed to do anythin', Spah," Engineer retorted grumpily.
The blond woman laughed again and gracefully sat down in the next available chair to the right of Scout. She was in the process of flicking open a cigarette case when Soldier rounded on her with 'are you willing to die for your country, maggot?' Medic, and all the others, wondered if Soldier had even noticed that over half the present team was from a country other than the US.
The newly arrived teammate eyed the nigh frothing woman with the same detached interest often seen on Medic's face and then replied with carefully chosen words that seemed quite deliberately devoid of the previously heard sarcasm. Soldier didn't seem to notice as she saluted and sat back down to her dinner.
Spy looked down her nose at the fare as she lit her cigarette. "I see the provisions are as was expected..." She considered, "Then again, it does look slightly better than the grease 'anded to us as fish an hour ago."
"'Us?'" Demo asked, eyebrow rising over her patch.
Even as it was asked, the opposite seat was filled. Given the woman's skinny, leggy build and the process of elimination, she had to be their Sniper. Black hair was cut level with the jaw, her head covered by a hat and her eyes by a pair of aviator style sunglasses. She looked generally bored and willing to be anywhere else but there and declined to make any welcome aside from the slightest wave of her hand towards the rest of her team.
Spy gestured to the silent woman, smoke following her hand in a wispy trail. "In the name of saving fuel the convict was forced to transport the both of us."
Sniper's only response was to roll her eyes and adjust her glasses.
Medic knew that these were the only two women who'd actually been in the business before RED recruited them. Well, Medic had training in the art of dispensing health and death with an even hand while the walls crumbled around her, but she would admit that the bombs were falling at random back then, not with the definite direction they'd face on the field. With Spy and Sniper's arrival the only woman left was the one Medic was most concerned about.
While the other classes required relatively minor adjustments to account for a woman's lack of broad shoulders, such as Engineer's plan to build greater numbers of weaker sentries than her male counterparts, the job of Heavy wasn't something that could be changed that much. They were meant to be tanks, pure and simple, and Medic wasn't sure how much the minigun's weight could be cut without severely reducing the effectiveness. There had to be some faith in the woman's skills, but what kind of woman could fill those shoes? Medic remembered subjects subjected to growth hormones, steroids, male hormones, and the results were overwhelmingly, well, male, in the worst sense of the word.
Medic knew it was illogical; if she could do her job then the Heavy could be as masculine as she wanted, and this desire for an actual woman was probably just an overdeveloped feminist sense clouding her judgment. Still...
"Yo," Scout said with a mouth full of creamed corn, "where's the big gal?"
Sniper finally broke her silence with a heavy dose of Australian, explaining Spy's convict comment. "Well, mate, they meant to have her here today but there was something holding her up--"
"Ah, paperwork," Spy cut in, "the chains that bind us all."
"--so she'll be here in four days," the Aussie continued. "We start tomorrow without her."
Sniper was distinctly anti-social and only took part in the conversation involving strategy, where Spy would discuss errant things with the women near her as long as she could continue tormenting Engineer between topics. Medic could understand the way the Texan reacted any time the topic of their Spy came up, and was glad that the two classes spent little time in the other's vicinity during battle (at least, not when they're on the same time). Sniper's distance would be no problem as the only time she should cross paths with the others during the day would be if she was switching vantage points.
All in all, despite her generally pessimistic attitude when it came to the human race and lingering worry about their absent Heavy, Medic felt generally hopeful about the Experimental's chances. 'Hopeful' meaning she gave them a slim chance at success.