Kidnapping Caper - A Tf2 Story

5 - Under Close Surveillance

Miss Pauling stumbled into her apartment after a long day of work, completely disheveled and awkwardly carrying her supplies from the day. Despite being an unkept mess, she still bore a wide grin as she dumped her tools by the sink and peeled her grimy gloves off. Now that she had finally finished her last assignment for the day, she could finally clean up. Just as she began to flood the basin, however, a small white envelope laying beside the handaxe she'd thrown onto the counter caught her eye.

The random appearance of such envelopes was no new experience. The little letters had become the most common form of communication from the Administrator when Miss Pauling had not been in the office that day. Even with the state her and her supplies were in, Miss Pauling decided that the little envelope was her top priority.

With careful hands, she scooped up the pristine envelope and examined it. There was no delivery or return address, and it remained free of stamps as per usual. The only thing that interrupted the clean surface of the envelope was a delicate purple wax seal imprinted in the shape of a microphone. The seal pulled off the envelope easily, which she set onto the counter as she slid out the letter inside. It read:

Recipient,

The Red Base will be infiltrated tonight at 3:30 AM. Monitor the operation. Ensure that all goes to plan. No mercenary is to come to harm under your observation. This is of high priority.

Destroy this letter upon memorization of its contents.

Administrator

Miss Pauling reviewed the letter, whispering its contents as she reread them. "Just when you think the work day is over," she laughed, "Oh well, it's just another little job. All I have to do is monitor one base for the night, it can't be too hard."

Though she was rarely given breaks and despite the difficulty of the work she was constantly assigned, Miss Pauling couldn't love her job more. Sure, things could get gruesome, but being active all day and working with a group of men she'd built a strong rapport with were worth all the unspeakable things she saw on the daily. Plus, burying bodies and running from the law were great substitutes for exercise and having to keep up with her pile of assignments kept her mind sharp.

With her next task literally at hand, Miss Pauling quickly got to work cleaning up her previous assignment so she could get to work. Turning off the faucet, she dunked the gore splattered handaxe and gloves into the soapy water and quickly scrubbed them clean. Once she was satisfied with their sanitation, Miss Pauling mixed bleach into the water to sterilize the tools and tossed the envelope and its contents to marinate with them.

"That should do it," she decided, smiling at her handiwork, "Now we just go watch the guys run around for the night. Should be easy enough."

Miss Pauling picked up the pistol she had set by the sink and reloaded it before sliding it into its holster. Gun at her hip, she scooped up her helmet and left the apartment.

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Miss Pauling made her way to the surveillance room with memorized steps. Quiet nights of surveillance were always a welcome assignment in her book. Even though there wasn't much action sitting in front of the monitors, it was nice to have a way to relax and work at the same time.

As she approached the door, Miss Pauling mechanically punched the pin into the keypad and placed her hand on the fingerprint scanner as if it were programmed into her. The latch flicked open with a loud chunk, and she stepped inside. The room was large, though it appeared claustrophobic due to the countless television screens stacked from floor to ceiling. Tangled between the hundreds of screens, seemingly endless cords wound up and down the walls and floors like creeping snakes. The stench of stale cigarette smoke hung so thickly in the air that even the worst chain smokers would get a headache. Miss Pauling, however, never paid much mind to the smell as she occupied the room so often. She took a seat at the desk, which sat dwarfed under the massive towers of screens around it. The monitors cast a ghostly teal glow on the room. Each screen bore a matching display instructing Miss Pauling to 'PLEASE ENTER PASSCODE'. Robotically, she typed out the mile long password.