Mercenary (a Team Fortress 2 fanfic)

Mercenary Chapter 1: Wanderer

( I do not own Team Fortress 2, or anything else that may be copyrighted in this fic. So don't sue me please. Thank you)

Oh well I'm the type of guy who will never settle down.Where pretty girls are well, you know that I'm around. I kiss 'em and I love 'em 'cause to me they're all the same. I hug 'em and I squeeze 'em they don't even know my name. They call me the wanderer, yeah the wanderer. I roam around around around.

The radio blared loudly, almost impotent to the noise of the rumbling motorcycle as it raced down the almost never ending Route 66. The small towns passed as did the sunrises and sunsets as I made my way through the Badlands. The barren deserts passed by in a haze and the sun was harsh and unforgiving on my clothed back.  I couldn't stop smiling.

Oh well there's Flo on my left arm and there's Mary on my right. And Janie is the girl that I'll be with tonight. And when she asks me which one I love the best. I tear open my shirt I got Rosie on my chest. ' Cause I'm the wanderer yeah the wanderer. I roam around around around.

Gas stations, diners, ma and pop shops, tourists. All went by so fast and as the days passed riding along, my mind reeled in excitement as what lied ahead. A bright future, and alot of cash. 58 dollars an hour, 1,400 dollars a day, 7,00 dollars a week, 42,000 a month , 504,000 a year. Not bad for 1968 I would think.

Oh well I roam from town to town. I go through life without a care. ' Til I'm as happy as a clown. With my two fists of iron and I'm going nowhere.

This decision wasn't on a whim though. There were alot of risks, death being one of them. With pay like that, who really cared?

I grinned again and hit the gas, sppeding down the road in wild, almost rebellious freedom. Just me and Nugget, my pet Silke Bantam chicken, who sat in a cage in the passenger car as the cage occasionally bumped up against my luggage whenever I went over uneven road. Life is good right now, much better then what I left behind.

I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around. I'm never in one place I roam from town to town. And when I find myself a-fallin' for some girl, yeah. I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the worl. Yeah I'm the wanderer. I roam around around around, let's go.

Up the road came a dusty, beat up sign. It read " Welcome to Teufort, Americas Gravel Basket" It was a welcoming sight after driving cross country non stop all the way from the East Coast.

I could see the town from the road from where I slowed down to look at the sign. My heart soared and I smiled again. Never have I felt so elated in my life. I sped down the road once again, hitting the gas.

I slowed and cruised through town, turning a few heads and the occasional cat call.

" Hey pretty lady, looking for a good time?'

" How improper! A woman wearing pants and driving a motorcyle. The nerve!"

I held my head high, acting vainly. Nothing could ruin my mood. I sped up and went through town, still having a few miles to go until I got to my destination. The RED base, Reliable Excavation Demolition, Red. My new home. Nothing could tarry me now.

Oh yeah I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around. I'm never in one place I roam from town to town. And when I find myself a-fallin for some girl . I hop right into that car of mine and drive around the world. 'Cause I'm the wanderer, yeah a wanderer. I roam around around around, around, around. 'Cause I'm a wanderer, yeah a wanderer. I roam around around around, around around.

The base came into view, large and out of place in the vast desert. Its bland, concrete walls towered high, making it truly what it was, a fortress. I slowed to a stop and parked my bike, squinting up at the building even though it overshadowed the blinding sun. I switched off the radio, leaving the surrounding area quiet, save for the occasinal sound of a falcon fying overhead. My mouth felt dry and I started to get nervous.

"What if this was all for nothing?" I thought to myself.

I knew this wasn't for nothing, that I was requested to come here. That nice lady...Pauling, was her name. She told me that I would make a great mercenary. The reason for fighting though, was depraved. What originally started out as a dispute between two brothers over who got the land their father left them, turned into a multi-million dollar bloodbath.

My job was simple: heed every given order, dispose of the enemy quickly, and most importandly, avade death.

I walked along the side of the building, looking for some form of human life but came uo unsucsessful. It was like everyone just dissapeared, leaving the baise void of life.

I heard the click of a trigger and felt the barrel of a gun meet the back of my head before I could turn around and react accordingly. I froze, not wanting to be a martyr due to a bullet in my brain.

"Oi wouldn't move if I were you , shelia. Who in the bloody e'll are ya?" A gruff Australian accent broke the uneasy silence and the barrel of the gun was pushed further into my head.

I timidly spoke. " I-I was sent down here for the new mercenary position. I mean you no harm!" I put my hands up in surrender. I did not want to accidently transgress some unspoken rule. I wanted to show that I had solidarity and did not want to be seen as a malevolent force.

"Oi don't believe you , you lying minx. You probably work for that damned Blu team, don't cha?" He growled, grabbing my arm and spinning me to face him.

I was met with steely blue eyes, slightly concealed by yellow tinted sunglasses and a feral facial expression. His features looked chiseled into his face ,and black, unruly hair came down his jaw in sideburns. A slouch hat nearly obscured his eyes and they bore right though me.

" Please have clemency on me. I-I didn't mean to be any trouble-" he cut me off by simply growling and increasing the intensity of the stare. His sordid hand made the skin of my arm feel defiled. He smelled of sweat and for unknown reasons, the staleness of urine.

"Yeah oi will  'ave mercy on you all roight. Just wait till the Medic gets his hands on you." His grin made my stomach do flips and I got a whiff of his breath. A overwhelmingly clear vice for black coffee and cigarettes invaded my nostrils along with his bodily odor.

He made me kneel down and he pinioned my arms down, binding them with makeshift rope, which happened to be my neck scarf.

" Let's see what you got in your bike shelia. Come on" He picked me up and just about dragged me to my parked motorcycle . It was clear he did not want to atone with me and he most likely wanted to see my brains splattered across the sand, but he kept me alive just for his own entertainment.

He picked up the cage Nugget was held in and the breath caught in my throat.

"Wut are you doing with a chicken, ya fucking fruit cake?" he dropped the cage haphazardly onto the ground beside his leather boots and Nugget gave a displeased cluck in response. I exhaled.

This man picked up my suitcase and plundered through it, occasionally making fun of me and the objects he pulled out. I have no clue what he is looking for. Perhaps something that was incriminating so he had an excuse to blow my fucking brains out? Only time would tell. I gulped as he pulled out the Manila folder labeled " Top Secret" out from a book of family photos.

" Ah, gotcha, ya little minx." he smirked toothily, opening up the folder to see job forms, my resume, cheques, bank notices, vaccinations, family history, school photos, everything under the sun that could be known about me and then some, and this random, smelly Aussie bastard is going through it all as if it was a issue of the National Geographic.

" Helena Mavine Blair. a fruitcake name for a fruitcake woman" He cackled meanly.

I sat helpless and looked up at him with a face of unease.

"Let's take you inside, wanka. " he chuckled, thinking it humorous to call me names instead of my real one.  He picked me up and shoved me toward a hidden door, now opening up and he held a gun to my hip, daring me to make a wrong move.

I was pushed and lead down into unknown territories and I was scared. What was I hoping for seemed impossible now, and the future looked bleak. But I have hope that not all will be lost.

(lyrics to the song The Wanderer by Ernie Maresca)