Team Fortress 2: Macintosh's Misadventure

Chapters

Chapter I: What in Sam Hill?
Chapter II: RED To The Rescue
Chapter III: Welcome To RED
Chapter IV: Class Training, Part I
Chapter V: Intermission

Chapter I: What in Sam Hill?

It was a fine day in Ponyville; ponies of all colors and sizes were wandering the streets and mingling with each other, glad to go about their daily lives without much of a fuss. Shopkeepers such as Rarity served customers, stall vendors like Carrot Top sold their goods, and many of the town's colts and fillies played games with each other in the parks under the watchful eyes of their parents. In the skies above, Pegasi flew about, some racing, some lying on the clouds, and some generally enjoying the peaceful day for what it was worth. The Unicorns were minding their own business, as were the Earth ponies, but amongst those Earth ponies was a certain red stallion who was making his way to the Golden Oaks Library, abode to Twilight Sparkle, student of Princess Celestia.

'Big' Macintosh Apple was a stallion of few words, as many of Ponyville's inhabitants and his family could attest. He was also bigger than your average stallion, so it was easy for many of the townsponies to pick him out through the crowd and watch him go wherever he was going. The red pony was seldom seen in town due to his daily and time-consuming work on his family's property, Sweet Apple Acres, so whenever he was around in town before or after a hard day's worth of bucking apple trees, the locals were bound to talk about him, though unsurprisingly it was the lonely mares of the town that did most of the talking. Then again, there was the rare stallion or two who did...

Anyways, Big Macintosh soon found himself in front of the door of Twilight's treehouse-slash-home. He took his time, slowly raising a big hoof to knock on it steadily. Within seconds, a small purple dragon with green spikes opened the door for him. It was none other than Spike, Twilight's personal and number one assistant, and foster child in all but name. Looking up, he smiled at the red stallion towering over him. "Oh hey Big Mac, perfect timing. Come on in, Twi's finished preparing her spell for you."

"Eeyup." Big Macintosh replied, entering only after Spike opened the door wider for him.

What Big Macintosh was doing in the library was simple: Surprisingly having enough time for himself just for today after work, he had volunteered during a delivery earlier to help Twilight as a test subject in her research of all things magical when she happened to lament that nopony wanted to be a test subject for her experiments when he happened to pass by. It helped that he didn't have anything better to do as well, other than go back to bucking more apple trees back at the farm. And with Twilight seeing nothing wrong with that, she accepted, so that was why he was there in the library, now waiting patiently by a table for her to show up.

"Hello, Big Mac!" A voice called out from the top of the staircase. Its owner was none other than Twilight herself. She gave him a friendly wave and bounded down the stairs in record time. The purple Unicorn mare then led him to a chair where she gestured for him to sit. Wordlessly, he nodded and sat down comfortably. Once he settled in, Twilight used her magic to levitate a book from somewhere towards her, where she opened a bookmarked page. "Alright Big Mac, today I'm going to practice teleporting you from that chair to that circle I drew on the floor." She pointed to it, then grinned. "Nothing should go wrong; I've double-checked and triple-checked everything! Are you ready?"

"Eeyup." He nodded, having nothing else to say.

Twilight took in a deep breath to concentrate. "Okay..." She exhaled. "Here goes!"

And with that, Twilight's eyes glowed white as she cast her spell. Big Macintosh closed his eyes and waited for the spell to do its job. He ignored the feeling of his body being compressed, and mentally counted up to ten as Twilight recommended earlier. He eventually reached ten, just as he began to feel light-headed. As the stallion's consciousness began to fade and his body started to feel like it was decompressing, he faintly heard a scream before it was abruptly cut...

Spike gaped at the smoking chair where Big Macintosh just sat. Twilight's expression was one of pure horror when she finally confirmed her spell's results. Both dragon and mare slowly turned to face each other, regarding each others' reaction, before they turned back to face the blackened, smouldering chair that left a thick scent of smoke in the air and in their nostrils. Gulping, Spike could only say: "Oops."

Twilight, on the other hoof, fainted.

When Big Macintosh awoke in the middle of a desert, he immediately panicked for two reasons:

One, he was in the middle of a desert when he was supposed to be still in Twilight's library.

Two, he wasn't a pony anymore.

"Horseapples."

He didn't know what he had become; from what he felt and saw for his own as he rose from the small crater he found himself in the middle of, he had become something... coatless and fleshy. Something that didn't feel like being a pony at all. And he had hands. Why he knew what his front hooves turned into he might never know, though somewhere in the back of his mind he blamed Lyra Heartstrings for it. Speaking of the cyan mare, he remembered that the beings with those so-called 'hands' were called humans...

Oh great. He was a human now.

The ex-pony gaped at his new body, forgetting about the unforgiving heat attacking his senses. His back hooves had been changed too, but instead of the normal red coat he always had on them they were covered with something that was blue. Also, the article of clothing he had on his chest turned out to be a red jacket with a white shirt underneath, with the jacket's collar and shoulders being brown, apparently replacing his work yoke. It was then Big Macintosh realized that his coat was no longer red, but was actually a fairly colored skin, and that he was wearing clothes that would've made Rarity happy to see him wear during the fall if he were a much younger pony, with his wrists having tight brown bands on them and with his feet having fitting beige shoes on them.

"What." He gaped to himself in disbelief, staring at his lower body.

He shook his head to calm himself as much as he could and finally looked around. From where he stood, dunes of sand stretched away from him as far as his eyes could see, an occasional rock or two jutting out of them. The sun's heat made the horizon distort, making it harder to see further. Big Macintosh was definitely in a desert alright. But when he turned to see the other way, his eyes widened, and before he even knew it he rubbed them awkwardly with his new fingers just to make sure he wasn't seeing a mirage.

"Woah."

There it was, not too far away. The ruins of a previous civilization; one that he recognized as Egyhooftian from his old history books. It was one imposing sandy-white complex, and with awe the former pony looked at it in all its ruined glory. Being teleported to a desert was one thing, but seeing ruins that he only read about in the past? No wonder he was surprised. But there was something off about the place that snapped Big Macintosh out of it. He blinked, looked around, and weighing his options, decided to get closer to the ruins. The shade they provided would give him protection from the scorching heat and the hot winds of the desert.

It took a few tries to get used to walking in his new body, having tumbled and scorched himself a few times, so once Big Macintosh got the hang of walking on two legs, he went on his way albeit slowly. Once he got close enough, he noticed that fences of barbed wire surrounded it, as well as a few warning signs that detailed danger ahead. Before he could even ponder why they were there, he heard loud noises coming from the area. He immediately stopped, strained his ears, and listened carefully.

Some of the noises sounded suspiciously similar to screams, while others sounded like laughter.

"What the hay is going on in there?"

A louder scream stopped the ex-pony from musing - and with a start Big Macintosh realized somepony needed help. And fast. Though a part of him wondered why would there be ponies around the place when the area looked dangerous, not to mention abandoned, nevertheless he rushed towards the direction of the scream and with luck, found a gap in the fences and decided to squeeze right through it, nearly cutting himself in the process. He breathed a sigh of relief and soon found himself in a large, lonely courtyard. He wondered where to go from there, when the same scream echoed in the air. Following the direction from where it came from Big Macintosh picked up his pace and began to jog faster to his left. He didn't feel confident enough to run just yet - he might trip face-first into the scorching sands, hurting himself even more.

He found himself in another large courtyard, though this time it seemed there was a large stage with an equally large circular metal plate on it, surrounded by sandstone blocks and a ruined pillar or so. The metal plate looked awfully out of place, but Big Macintosh wasn't about to wonder what it was doing there. He finally saw who had been causing the screams - it wasn't a pony like he hoped it would be, but a human wearing red that barely looked like an adult. Why Big Macintosh knew why that human barely looked like an adult, he again blamed Lyra for it. Her research was detailed after all, so he couldn't help but read about it.

The young human was being punched in the gut by a bigger, burlier, and bald human, who happened to wear blue under his black vest and was laughing mirthlessly at the younger man's suffering, alongside two others that Big Macintosh didn't get a good look at from where he was standing. The bald man then grabbed the younger human by the front of his shirt, chuckled darkly as the young human whimpered, and then bodily threw him a slight distance away from his group, making him bounce twice and groan deeply in pain.

"You are dead, baby man!" The very same bald man laughed again, his accent noticeably Rhoofian-ish.

Something snapped in Big Macintosh when he got a clearer look of the bald man's victim. The red-wearing human's face was sporting a heavy bruise on his left side, and a black eye on his right. And judging by the way he was weakly trying to get up or crawl away, he'd been abused by them for quite a while now. Big Macintosh huffed. This wasn't right. Nopony should suffer like this, even if the pony in question was in fact a human.

The BLU Heavy, Medic, and Scout did not notice the furious Big Macintosh's stomps until it was too late.

The RED Scout was having the worst day of his life.

He knew it was a very bad idea to piss off his teammates with a prank on an early Saturday morning. From the start, he knew it was going to end in tears, but then again he was completely bored of out his mind, it was really hot outside his base to do any running, and pretty much there wasn't a lot to do in the locale of Egypt other than annoy the others with his pranks. So when his prank - a masterfully planned out one if he could say so himself - worked, he had been chased out of his own base by his angered teammates after managing to laugh the loudest laughs he could ever laugh at their angry faces, and now he was wishing that he hadn't pissed them off by putting poisonous scorpions in their rooms, clothes, and food, because it so happened he got captured by his team's enemy, BLU, just as he was about go back and apologize, and was now being beaten up by them.

It, frankly, was the most humiliating experience ever for him. From earning a black eye, a couple of bruises that'll stay for weeks, a few broken ribs, and losing half of his pearl-white teeth, the Scout resigned himself to his fate - a prolonged, painful death - because he deserved it. He was on the ground, faintly conscious and mentally flipping himself off for his own stupidity, not caring about what he was doing to himself because nobody else was able to hear his thoughts, nor would they care. He struggled to release an infuriated sigh at himself, but at that moment the BLU Heavy punched him at the same time he did. His sigh came out as a strained, pained scream instead, and unfortunately that scream of his sounded a little too girly for his tastes.

The mocking laughter from the BLU trio that followed rang in the Scout's ears. Aside from the indescribable pain searing though his body, what hurt the most about their mockery of him and his pride was that his BLU counterpart was participating in it. It was then that the Scout made an oath to... well, short of brutalizing him, return the favor to the BLU Scout someday. In his mind, the RED Scout imagined dousing him with the Sniper's Jarate, then lighting him up with the Pyro's help, though he momentarily paused to blink and think about how unlikely that was going to happen, considering what he recently did to the two of them.

Oh well, at least thinking about revenge was better than minding that he was getting hurt with no means of fighting back.

"You are dead, baby man!" He heard the BLU Heavy laugh over his overwhelming pain.

"Damn that fatass and his stupid Medic. And that asshole Scout!" The RED Scout swore mentally, before tiredly closing his eyes. "Oh well, at least I'm going back to the base."

After he felt himself being lifted up and being thrown to the ground, bouncing twice and groaning in pain, the Scout was now impatient to die and be free of his erstwhile torment - but suddenly out of the blue, he remembered that the Respawn System didn't work while the teams weren't fighting officially. Oh God, why did he have to remember that now?!

"Oh, crap!" The young man panicked immediately, his eyes shooting wide open. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! Someone help me! I don't wanna die!"

He weakly looked around, and in his adrenaline rush, saw Big Macintosh with a dark look on his face as he drew near.

"Yes! Someone's here to save me!" The Scout thought in relief. "But wait a minute, who the hell is that guy?!"

The Scout realized he was the first person to notice the RED newcomer coming closer to them.

Big Macintosh was very mad.

But he knew that he had to be focused on keeping the wounded young human from experiencing anymore harm. From the moment he understood the gravity of his situation and that of the young man's, he was marching up to the trio of blue clothed men who were too busy enjoying themselves to notice his approach. He walked past two of them and then softly tapped the shoulder of the bald, burly man.

"Da? What is it, doctor?"

After he turned, the BLU Heavy flew a few feet away from Big Macintosh's punch to his face alone, and instantly upon contact with the ground and a part of the sandstone complex, fell into a painful unconsciousness with a groan. The laughter around the courtyard immediately stopped, and Mac felt shocked eyes on him. Big Macintosh, in a moment of clarity, wondered how he knew how to... what was it called... ah, 'punch' someone, and... wait a minute. There was no need to blame Lyra this time. Punching someone was no different than smacking somepony with a clenched hoof. He should've known - he's had his fair share of brawls.

"What?!" Exclaimed a glasses-wearing human with a Germane-ish voice.

Big Macintosh grunted and threw another punch in the man's direction, who in turn swiftly fell to the ground unconscious, his glasses flying off. Then he turned to face the third formerly laughing man, intent to knock him out as well. He only saw rising dust instead. That human had escaped while he was busy dealing with the man with the glasses, and now he was calming down, though his priorities immediately switched from saving the red-clothed man on the ground to attending to him. The Scout groaned as he caught sight of his rescuer, his consciousness beginning to fail. And then he blacked out, leaving Big Macintosh all alone just as he moved to him.

"Eenope, this isn't good." Big Macintosh murmured to himself as he sat beside the man.

From a camera control room deep within the RED base, the shocked Engineer could only gape at what he had seen. His goggles reflected the image projected on the screen before him - a blond civilian putting his ear to the prone Scout's chest. After he worked up the nerve to shut his mouth, the Texan mouthed off the words that conveyed his confusion and surprise the most.

"What in Sam Hill?"

Author's Note

... What have I done?
... Erm, anyways, enjoy.

~~*Updated as of 26th of June, 2014.~~
~~**Updated as of 16th of July, 2014.~~
***Updated as of 5th of January, 2015. I must be the slowest author ever to live, don'tcha think?

Chapter II: RED To The Rescue

Horseapples.

Not a day had even passed in wherever the heck Big Macintosh was, and already a human's life was at the mercy of his hands.

Heh. Hands.

Though he wasn't showing it, the ex-pony was panicking. The unconscious battered human lying in front of him looked like in need of serious medical attention after that brutal beating those blue-wearing humans gave him, and that view wasn't unfounded since he had checked the human's pulse after listening to his heartbeat (which he reasoned was the same as putting one's hoof to another pony's neck, so no need to blame Lyra this time) and noticed that it was getting faint. Big Macintosh was no way a doctor, especially when it came to saving human lives; but he knew the best he could do in this situation was to find help for the human, and hopefully not too late.

But the problem was, he didn't know where to go find help. The locale of this Egyhooftian place was completely unfamiliar to him despite what he read about the previous Equine civilization, and it dawned on him that he was like a little foal lost in a vast mall being in this place. Or like a stallion looking for his marefriend in a large town festival. Or something else along those lines, whatever would help him sleep later tonight... if, that is, he could get any sleep after considering all what's happened so far. He was far from home and he had no idea what he had to do. Chances were, the human he had saved would probably be dead by the time he found humans friendly enough to help.

"Eenope!" Big Macintosh thought. "I didn't rescue this human just to let him die on me! I've got to find some help, now!"

But before he could move, the voices of charging men filled the air, and he could hear the sounds of boots crushing sand closing in on him. Every second that passed made the blond more and more nervous and wary. Eventually, out came more humans wearing blue, though this time the variety of their appearance and clothing stunned Big Macintosh. He was overwhelmed by some of their looks; one of the humans in blue was in a sharply-dressed suit with a black tie, another was wearing what appeared to be a fire-proof asbestos suit complete with a black gasmask, and another human with an eye-patch on his left eye was wearing a vest with what seemed to be six explosives strapped to the sides of its front. There were more humans, but they were being covered by the ones in front of them, leaving Mac to imagine what they looked like. He could pick out a human wearing a nice hat amongst the small group, but that was as far as he could see from where he was.

"Uh oh." The blond said to himself.

They did not look friendly.

"There he is! That's the guy who knocked Heavy and Medic out cold!"

The owner of the voice pointed, glaring at Big Macintosh as he and the other humans slowed down to a standstill. Big Macintosh realized he was the third man that he failed to knock out earlier. Apparently, he had called for help. But that quick? And why did he look so familiar now that he got a closer look at him? A thought about the human unconscious at his feet wandered into his mind, but it was ignored due to more pressing concerns in the form of not-so-friendly and armed humans in front of him. But, said pressing concerns didn't stop Big Macintosh's instincts from telling him that something was off here... though then again now was not the right time to think about it.

In seconds, the hostile humans surrounded who they thought was a new member of RED.

"What are we waiting for?! Let's get him already!" The one who looked like the human he saved barked. "Get the bastard!"

Yelling, the BLUs charged Mac, with a hardhat-wearing human's robotic hand clenching ominously as they closed the distance.

"Horseapples!"

The moment the mysterious stranger in red was punched in the face after he narrowly avoided a swung bottle from the BLU Demoman, the RED Engineer decided it was high time to act. Pushing himself away from the wall of monitors, he bolted up from his seat and burst through the camera control room's door, the force reverberating throughout the empty corridor. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him into his base's living room, where he hoped everyone else were staying at together.

What he saw over the cameras could no longer be ignored. He recalled the events that led to his actions as he ran through more corridors. A civilian, one that the Engineer couldn't fathom how, had gotten into their battlefield and by chance had saved his team's Scout from certain death by a beating, by defeating the BLUs responsible for his predicament. Then he saw the Scout's rescuer being horribly outnumbered, and the rest is living history as the Engineer thought of how to make his teammates help him help the civilian without mentioning the Scout, whom they all truthfully - including himself - still hated for that prank he pulled off earlier in the morning.

Why he didn't alarm the rest of his team earlier while the Scout was being beat up was simple: he had gone out to take a long leak during his break at his turn of monitoring the cameras, and by the time he got back at his post he only saw how Big Macintosh had taken care of the BLU Heavy and Medic. At least he had a good excuse if his teammates ever asked why he didn't go to them sooner, but no doubt he'd be chewed off by the Soldier of all people for not having an iron bladder when he hears about it. Oh heck, why was he thinking about this now? That'll be something he'll have to worry about later!

Concentrating, the Texan knew he had to rouse his fellows into action, to save both the brave civilian and their stupid Scout.

"Fellas! Gather 'round, and fast!" He yelled into the room as soon as he arrived, panting. "We have a situation on our hands!"

But he only received startled stares in response, the most memorable amongst them was the Demoman's, who was about drink another bottle of his favorite vice; His Scrumpy, as he loved to call it. Then a finely suited masked man - the enigmatic Spy - calmly approached him from the shadows from the kitchen and living room combined.

What he said to his ally wasn't so calm, though.

"Engineer, if this is about the Scout being in serious trouble, then leave us be." He began with a low growl. "The prank he pulled off on us all was not at all funny! And also, do you have any idea how much the little rascal ruined my favourite suit by placing a scorpion on it?!"

The Engineer wisely ignored him. Then he yelled: "There's a civilian on the battlefield, y'all! And he's being attacked by BLU!"

The spacious room instantly fell so silent, one could swear they can hear a pin drop miles away if one were to ignore the nearby howling desert winds. The silence was so tense, everyone could hear the Pyro - their resident masked pyromaniac - mutter something about the suddenly silent popping corn kernels in the microwave, which everyone had conveniently forgot used to belong to the Scout. Then the Soldier - RED's crazy de-facto leader - stood up so abruptly, his chair was sent flying backwards to the coffee table where the Sniper - their team's lone wolf and long distance support - had made a stack of cards to pass the time in boredom.

Which fell when the furniture collided to the tune of the American's reddening face.

"WHAT?!" The Soldier bellowed, ignoring the Sniper's resulting annoyed sigh. "A civilian being attacked by BLU?! I will not stand for this! Not while I have air in my lungs! By God, I will save that civilian! And all of you are coming with me!"

Everyone exchanged glances as the Soldier then ran out of the room like a man possessed, screaming his lungs out in an overdrawn battle-cry as he wielded his shovel. But no sooner than a few seconds had passed he returned back to the room, looking slightly sheepish while scratching the back of his head.

"I forgot to ask... Where's this civilian at?" He asked quietly.

The Engineer rolled his eyes and motioned everyone else to follow him, with the Heavy dragging an uninterested Medic along with him and with the Pyro bemoaning the ruination of his popcorn, alongside the Demoman who frowned at losing some of his precious drinking time. The ignored, infuriated Spy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as they filed out, only following suit after a pat on the shoulder from the sympathetic Sniper on his way out. The last in line, the Soldier gave one cursory glance at the room before hurriedly catching up with his team.

Big Macintosh was having the worst day of his life.

From landing in the middle of a desert because of Twilight's spell, then finding out he had turned into a human, followed up by saving a real human in the ruins of a previous civilization from being beaten up even more, to being beaten up himself, he knew that this bad day of his had trumped all the previous days which he called were the worst days of his life, and that was saying something. His arms currently being held by a helmeted man and a dark-skinned one who wore an eye-patch, he couldn't do much to fight back, and right now he was being punched in the stomach by a rather not amused hardhat-wearing human. Each punch hurt as much as they looked.

The blue-wearing humans took their time with him, occasionally taking turns to punch him wherever and whenever they wanted. Big Macintosh was hurting all over by the time the hardhatted one had his fill, but somehow he still managed to remain perfectly conscious despite his suffering. Eventually it was the red-clothed human's look-alike's turn. He had a smug look on his face as he looked down on him, clenching his wrapped hands into fists.

"Who's the tough guy now, huh, tough guy?!" He taunted him as he raised his balled up fist in front of Big Macintosh's face.

He snorted at this, despite the pain he felt everywhere. He had to admit, it was funny hearing the young human before him taunting him despite the fact that he looked like the human equivalent of a pony wimp. He barely looked like he had any muscles. Or maybe it was funny only because his adrenaline had just started to kick in. Either way, Big Macintosh started to stifle his steadily rising laughter.

"Hey, what's so funny tough guy?!" The Scout growled at him, and at this Big Macintosh could no longer hold it in.

"I find it kind of funny that you need your buddies' help just to beat me up. Heck, I think that without them around I can drive you down to the ground and make you crawl back to mommy."

Big Macintosh, despite the shock he instilled into the now gaping human was unsure what caused him to say that. It really might have been the adrenaline talking, but then again he really didn't know. He, of course, knows that he is - or was - a stallion of few words, and he knew it was completely out of character for him to say something like that even if it was a taunt of sorts owing to his personality. Whatever caused him to say that he though seemed to work somehow by temporarily stopping his beating, which was a blessing while it lasted. And he could hear murmuring from the other humans that sounded like 'The man's right, you know.', and 'Yeah, I agree, the Scout doesn't stand a chance against him one-on-one.'. Woah. Whoever these humans were, it sounded like they really didn't like the human in front of him.

That only made him enraged. "Wanna bet, you wuss?!"

Without thinking, Big Macintosh replied:

"Eeyup."

"Alright, that's it! I'm gonna show this bozo who's the boss around here!"

The dark-skinned human suddenly burped out of the blue, then asked his teammate concernedly: "Are you sure about it, lad?"

The look-alike nodded vigorously as he cracked his knuckles and grit his teeth. The black human took this as a 'Yes!', so he sighed and motioned to his other teammate to let go of the blond's arms at the same time he will. "Alright then, it's yer funeral, lad. Don't say we didn't try to stop you."

The two humans holding Big Macintosh quickly dropped their hold on his arms simultaneously, quickly backing away from the battered RED before he'd get the chance to grab them or something. After quickly checking up on the unconscious Heavy and Medic and making sure they were alright, they wordlessly joined the rest of their team while they were forming a wide circle that the soon-to-be combatants wouldn't run from. All the while, the look-alike was glaring down Big Macintosh, who held up his fists defensively.

"I'm gonna headbutt you! I'm gonna headbutt you! I'm gonna headbutt you!"

With that, the blue-wearing look-alike launched himself at him, snarling.

Big Macintosh didn't even need to think twice about what he said he'd do to him.

Meanwhile, in a dark office lit only by the many screens of monitors showing a multitude of areas around the Egyptian complex, Administrator Helen smoked her eighteenth cigarette as Miss Pauling the Assistant nervously looked on, both watching the one-sided battle of Big Macintosh and the BLU Scout coming to a close. The chain-smoking older woman in the room continued to eye the end of the fight with interest as Pauling re-checked the information she had on the mystery civilian on her note board for the umpteenth time - which was, so to speak due to his completely unexpected appearance - absolutely nothing at all. In other words, she kept looking back at the blank sheet of paper she had on her note board.

To her, this man was like the Spies of both the mercenary teams the Administrator employed to carry on the Mann brothers' feud; a living mystery more mysterious than the Spies themselves as he had appeared out of nowhere and such, only this time he had a face they could possibly identify given time, effort, and resources - but unlike the Spies - they had no information about the stranger's name or even on his background to begin with. Miss Pauling, with the slightest bit of justifiable hesitance, looked over at the silhouette of her boss, who was sitting on her chair facing the wall of monitors and beeping computers like she had no care for the world.

"Administrator?"

"Speak."

"The information about that civilian you requested... Our databases doesn't have any. He's a ghost on the system."

The older woman continued smoking as if she didn't hear her Assistant. Miss Pauling did not see her lips curl into a smirk.

"Interesting."

"Who's next!?" Big Macintosh found himself yelling triumphantly at the humans, who were slowly backing away after seeing how brutally he put their teammate down.

The BLU Scout could only meek out a weak groan as he tried moving. Everywhere on his body hurt like hell, especially his legs, and the combined pain was bringing him into tears, not that he wouldn't admit it. The new RED was absolutely merciless during the fight - the RED actually freaking stomped on his legs when he tried to roll away from him too early, and also the RED had punched his face so many times he could barely feel the trickle of his own blood dripping off it. The Scout groaned again, before his good eye began to twitch and he felt like fainting from it all. He tried to heave himself up to save face, but found that the act of doing so only washed him over with more pain.

"Mommy..." He whimpered pathetically, before the calming darkness rushing from the corners of his eyes claimed him.

"Attack!"

The RED Soldier cried as he ran towards Point A, followed closely by his similarly yelling brothers-in-arms. The Heavy began to rev up his minigun, and the Sniper took up a vantage point behind his team to scope for targets. The Demoman began to aim his stickybomb launcher to shoot into the air, while the Pyro let loose a maniacal giggle while brandishing his flamethrower. The Medic applied his medigun on his Russian comrade to overheal him, the Spy cloaked to go who knows where, and the Engineer cocked his shotgun and aimed. All of them were ready to fight to the death, like it was another ordinary day in their lives as mercenaries for Reliable Excavations and Demolitions.

But what they saw silenced them into shock.

"What the hell?" The decloaking Spy summed up everyone's reactions in those three words.

The very same civilian the Engineer told them about was towering over the unconscious bodies of the entire BLU team. He was breathing heavily as he limped his way to the unconscious RED Scout and fell on his knees, no doubt feeling the after effects of his adrenaline rush - extreme exhaustion and a heightened sense of feeling pain, if the bruises on his arms and face were anything to go by, not to mention the ones hidden under his clothes. The Heavy noted that he failed to notice the REDs gaping at him not too far away despite their earlier yelling and battle preparations, even failing to hear the usually reserved Sniper gasp a rather distinct 'Holey Dooley!' that normally would've gotten everyone's attention.

With a final wheeze for air, the unknown civilian toppled over and fell flat on his back right beside their Scout.

There was a moment of silence, before it finally dawned on team RED. Instantly, they realized two things:

One, this civilian fought the BLUs on his own, and unbelievably, won.
Two, their Scout seemed to be barely alive, not that anyone cared.

Still under the thrall of their shock, the rest of the stunned REDs turned to face the Engineer, who was the reason why they were here, watching the aftermath of the civilian's fight against their enemy. The Demoman, believing himself to be drunk, couldn't help but pinch himself, and when he registered the slight pain, he gave a disbelieving look at the bottle of Scrumpy he brought along. Everyone else had nearly similar reactions after they saw it for themselves; even the staring Spy was at a loss for words.

"Uh, Engineer, mate?" The Sniper finally broke the ice, looking back and forth at the civilian and the Engineer. "Did he actually need any help in the first place?"

The Texan could only gape at the unconscious civilian in response.

Author's Note

... Crap, I just realized I posted a beta version of this chapter earlier. Oh well, now here's the full version.
Enjoy.

~~*Updated as of 26th of June, 2014.~~
~~**Updated as of 16th of July, 2014.~~
***Updated as of 5th of January, 2015. Man, I really have a problem with updating my stories and stuff.

Chapter III: Welcome To RED

The BLU Spy rose to his feet as the last of the REDs left the courtyard with their unconscious friends, and frowned when he felt his face.

But at least his mask would cover the nasty bruise the new RED gave him. Now, it was time to get his teammates up and about.

Around him were his said teammates, lying on the ground in varying degrees of pain or unconsciousness. The Frenchman approached the Medic and wisely woke up him first, with the German's blinking eyes immediately squinting when he realized his glasses were gone, and that his cheek hurt like hell. He opened his mouth to say something as he sluggishly rose and groaned, but just as quickly closed it when he turned and saw the rest of his team around him in need of serious medical attention, especially the Scout.

One disbelieving look to the seemingly unharmed Spy after, the Medic sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Let me guess, Herr Spy..." He began irritably. "We were all beaten by that new RED member?"

"I'm afraid so, Doctor. I'm afraid so." His ally replied curtly, extending a hand. "Do you think you can walk?"

"Nein... Nein, I don't think so. Danke, Kamerad." The Medic gingerly took it, wincing slightly.

The Spy helped the Medic up and made him sling his other arm over his shoulder, making the Medic lean against him for support.

"We should hurry and head to the infirmary to get yourself healed." The Spy said not a second later.

"Ja, then we'll take care of our teammates together." The Medic grunted, his eyes still adjusting.

The German winced again as he ran his free gloved hand over his cheek while they slowly made their way to the entrance of their base, taking great care not to step on any of their fallen teammates and further leave them in agony. But only two steps away from the entrance after so much effort spent on maneuvering around the rest of team BLU, there was a sudden sound of glass cracking underneath the Medic's boot. After a startled gasp, the man sighed again, only this time it was more of extreme annoyance than flat-out irritation.

The BLU Spy bemusedly looked at his friend's misfortune at stepping on his own glasses, but the Medic waved it off while shaking his head, deciding to get back on track. Motioning to the Spy to start moving again, eventually the two BLUs got inside their base's infirmary where the Spy carefully guided the Medic down to sit on an unoccupied bed. The Spy quickly left the Medic's side to rummage through the German's belongings in his office until he found what he needed - the Quick-Fix. Grabbing it, he walked back to its owner.

"May I?" The Spy asked the Medic politely, showing him his creation.

He nodded weakly. "Of course."

After successfully strapping it to himself, the Spy grabbed the hose, aimed it at the willing German and pulled its trigger.

Within seconds, the Medic was fully healed, the calming blue shifting ray of light coming from the hose's nozzle removing all of his wounds. Slowly grinning in gratitude, the Medic took some spare glasses from a nearby drawer and put them on. After slightly adjusting them, he took his stock medigun from his office and strapped it to himself. He nodded to the Spy as he checked every part of it to ensure that it worked properly. The Spy nodded back upon finishing his inspection, the look in his eyes turning serious.

"Now, time to attend to our teammates, my friend."

"But of course."

The two BLU men rushed back to the courtyard, intent on fully healing the rest of their beaten team before turning to the next issue that needed to be addressed:

RED's newest member, and how his presence would change everything.

The Heavy squeezed in through the RED base's infirmary door as he carefully carried the Scout's rescuer in his arms to a free bed. Behind the Russian several beds away, the Sniper and the Demoman were carefully placing the Scout on another free bed. The Medic impatiently pushed past the other REDs who weren't helping and walked into the part of the room where it wasn't so crowded to oversee the entire ordeal. As soon as he saw his patients lying safely on their backs, the Medic took off his stock medigun, grabbed his Quick-Fix medigun from his office, and then rushed back to the worried others, strapping it on and holding the hose.

Taking aim at the civilian, the Medic ordered: "Everyone! Move out of the way!"

Once the others complied, he automatically pulled the trigger.

The bruises on the man instantly began to disappear the moment the familiar red shifting ray of light connected to him. His blood started seeping back to their wounds as they closed, his damaged flesh and broken bone tissues rapidly knitting themselves back together. Meanwhile his ruffled clothes became straight, and the tears on them began to mend themselves. Stains of dirt and blood on them vanished too, and when the Medic completed his healing, the civilian ended up looking as if he hadn't been beaten up.

It was then that everyone had a good look at him.

The man lying on the bed before them had long blond hair which trailed past his neck. He had freckled cheeks and a facial structure that resembled a male model's. He lacked facial hair of any kind, and it seemed that, upon closer inspection, the civilian before them still hadn't gotten past his 30's yet - though his above average height sowed seeds of doubt about his age in the minds of the REDs. That, and he was strong, outstandingly so, making them think that the man was in the prime of his youth as well.

Besides his probable age, he looked handsome alright, but what was more eye-catching than his face was his body itself. They easily could trace the toned muscles underneath his clothes using only their eyes. Those toned muscles were no doubt one of the fruits of the man's labors, whatever it was that he did for a living. That is, if he worked hard to get those muscles in the first place, and if, that is, if he had a rigorous living.

The Sniper whistled low in surprise as he took his shades off to better look at the man's chest, the dark brown tint of his shades only impeding his view. The Soldier's eyes widened at the sight, gaping a little, obviously amazed and perhaps a bit envious of the civilian. Absentmindedly, he wondered if he could get some body-building tips from him later once he'd come to. Meanwhile the others, aside from the silent Pyro who continued to stare at the man, began to look impressed at their discoveries of the civilian's body.

"Man, he's buffed up." The Engineer exclaimed quietly, to which a few of the others murmured something back in agreement.

Then the Medic turned to heal the Scout. But upon remembering that his pet dove Archimedes nearly died because of the Scout's prank earlier this morning - with vivid memory of the scorpion readying itself to sting the poor bird! - he began to have second thoughts. But a sharp look from the Heavy later, he relented, concentrated, and then begrudgingly healed the Bostonian. In a few seconds the Scout looked perfectly fine again, though he remained unconscious like the civilian. Not that anyone cared, of course.

A tentative, contemplative silence fell on the room as soon as all the healing was done. Everyone traded unsure glances.

"So, what happens now?" The Heavy asked no-one in particular.

A knock on the infirmary door however, stopped anyone from answering.

It opened in a moment, revealing Miss Pauling carrying a pen and noteboard with a respectful smile on her lips.

"Gentlemen."

Meanwhile, at the BLU infirmary, seven men were lying on beds as the BLU Medic rushed to and fro in the room inspecting the extent of his friends' injuries in order to treat them. The BLU Heavy was soundly sleeping, as were the Engineer and the Soldier, while the Pyro had fallen asleep reading a book about forest fires, his snores muffled by his gasmask. However, the Sniper and the Demoman were still awake, partly because they were still wounded, and partly because they were on the verge of being treated by the Medic.

Elsewhere in the infirmary, the Spy sat close to an open window on a chair, staring outside thoughtfully as he let the hot desert air into the room, as per the Medic's orders. His eyes often wandered towards the direction of the RED base where he thought his enemies were celebrating the rescue of their Scout. With that in mind, he tutted as he remembered the fact that their own Scout had led them to their current situation indirectly. He shook his head in disappointment. Their Scout was really an inconsiderate idiot.

Speaking of their Scout, the young man was furiously glaring at the Medic for not hurrying up with his healing. Out of all the BLUs, the Scout suffered the most (having a battered face, a couple of broken bones, and such) from the new RED's assault, and therefore needed the medical expertise of the German doctor first, but because he was such a jerk even to his team, the Medic found it appealing to heal the others first than him to teach the little bastard a lesson - as it was the Scout's own fault that he ended up in his predicament.

Though his choice didn't save him from the Scout's talkativeness.

"So let me get this straight... again." Began the BLU Scout again as his anger boiled within him. "We lost to that RED?"

"Ja." Answered the BLU Medic crisply as he lifted up and inspected the Demoman's broken lower jaw.

"A single, freaking RED?"

"Ja." Repeated the Medic as he took up his Medigun and pointed it at the relieved-looking Demoman.

"A single, freaking RED who somehow managed to beat us all up, seven-to-one?!"

"Ja, and for the last time, Herr Scout," The turning Medic irritably snapped, while his Medigun beam hit the Sniper instead. "Would you kindly shut up? Or would I have to put you to sleep?"

"Alright, alright..." The Scout grumbled as he laid back on his bed, cringing a bit. "... I still can't believe we freaking lost, though."

"Scout!" The Medic snapped again, this time with a vein on his forehead bulging. "You are trying my patience!"

"Uh, Doc?" The BLU Sniper timidly called out to the German. "You're healing me instead of Cyclops here."

"Oh, dear. I'm truly sorry, Herr Demoman." The German apologized as he calmed down. "I'll tend to you at once."

The black Scotsman could only raise a grateful thumb up in reply.

"But seriously though..." The Scout muttered. He clearly had a lot on his mind to talk about. "How could we have lost to a single guy? A RED too, no less?"

The Medic refused to answer while he healed the Demoman, so it fell to the Sniper to reply: "I reckon that the bloke exposed himself to a bit of Australium. Might explain why he's so damn tough."

"Aye, I thought the same thing." The Demoman added eagerly as soon as he was fully healed.

He was stopped from saying more by the Medic who put a stern finger in front of his lips. "Go to sleep, Herr Demoman. You too, Herr Sniper."

The two men were only too happy to oblige and promptly both of them fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep. The Scout, in the meantime, was deep in thought.

"Sounds legit." Finally murmured the Scout, failing to notice his now asleep teammates. "But where would he have gotten some? I mean, all the Australium we know of is under the ownership of our bitch boss, and that guy who beat us up doesn't even look like an Australian! Heck, he doesn't even sound like one! He even said 'Eeyup.' to me! What kinda Australian says something like that?!"

"That'll be something we'll figure out later, lapin." The irked Spy said from his chair, while still facing the window.

"But why not now, Spy?" The irritated Scout whined. "You know what, we could plan something now to get back at the bastard!"

Unbeknownst to the whining Scout, the Medic was finally fed up with the Bostonian. He calmly approached the Scout with a syringe hidden behind his back, and once he was close enough he forcefully injected the liquid inside it into the man's wrist. A startled gasp later, the Scout dropped like a stone - asleep - into his bed, finally leaving the BLU base's infirmary mostly quiet save for the heavy breathing of the Medic and the snores of the sleeping BLUs. The German breathed a sigh of relief, happy to not hear his young teammate talk for a while.

The now-amused Spy had seen that move coming a mile away, but even he couldn't help but be amazed by the Medic. "Nice stab if I say so myself, doctor. But aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh right, I need to heal him." The Medic grunted, feeling calmer than he had been earlier. "Danke für die Erinnerung."

"Anytime, friend, anytime." The Spy motioned with a casual wave of his hand. "I'll keep watch if you don't mind, by the way."

With an affirmative grunt, the very tired Medic healed the Scout, then went to a free bed, lied on it, then fell asleep after taking off his coat, boots and medigun, and not in that order. The Spy, left awake and alone - entertained by only his thoughts - soon continued pondering the implications of RED's newest member's presence, and how his own team's superiors would deal with the unexpected threat. With a muffled yawn, being tired himself, the Spy shook his head and remained vigilant for the sake of his allies.

But the suited Frenchman fell asleep only after five minutes of watching over the others.

Miss Pauling, satisfied after hearing the Engineer's tale of how he had found the civilian and alerted his team about it, wrote down more notes in her note board as the Texan took a sip from his glass of water. Around them the whole of RED minus the Scout stood in the infirmary, all of them merely having nothing better to do as they watched the short man answering the Administrator's Assistant's questions. Eventually Miss Pauling concluded her questioning, nodding with a hum.

"So Miss Pauling, ma'am..." Began the Engineer uneasily. "Does this mean we're all in trouble for letting a civilian in on the battlefield?"

"No, not at all, Engineer." She replied casually, then turned to face the team. "As a matter of fact, telling all of you that you're in trouble was not what I came here for, everyone. I came here to gather information about the civilian you saved."

"Saved?" The Sniper snorted suddenly. "More like the bloke saved himself, pardon my point of view, Miss Pauling."

The ambiguously brown woman shrugged. "Nevertheless, Mr. Mundy, I still need to gather information about him by asking him some questions."

She cleared her throat and turned to face the Medic. "Medic? I'm in need of your assistance."

"How may I assist, Fraulein Pauling?" The Medic politely asked.

She looked at him straight in the eyes. "I need you to wake the civilian up and inject him with a truth serum I have on me."

The German nodded without skipping a beat or even questioning her motives. "As you wish, though I must say he will not stay conscious for long. I estimate he only will be awake for five minutes or so, judging by how tired the poor soul looks."

"It's fine. Five minutes is all I need to know what I need to know about him."

With that, Pauling held out the truth serum on her palm.

Everyone watched with baited breaths as the Medic took the syringe from the woman and carefully injected it into the man's shoulder. It took the German a few tries to penetrate the man's skin as it was unbelievably tough, but eventually he managed and the syringe began to release the light yellow formula into the man's bloodstream. Then the Spy took a chair and placed it on the man's bedside, and after whispering her thanks, Pauling sat on it as Medic gently roused the man to the world of consciousness by shaking his shoulder.

What the REDs and Miss Pauling didn't know, was that Big Macintosh was currently in a deep dream-like state.

The blond found himself standing in the middle of what seemed to be a stretch of sand that seemed to never end. It was like the desert he was in earlier, only that there was no heat despite the sun being high in the sky and that there were no Egyhooftian ruins nearby. Once, the man thought he heard a voice say something in the distance, but each time he turned to look at where it came from there was only nothing but thin air for him to face, which was beginning to unnerve him and weaken his sense of calm.

"Big Macintosh!? What happened to you?!"

Something like that. He soon learned to ignore the strangely familiar disembodied voices as soon as he heard them.

"Where in the hay am I?"

That was a question he asked himself every now and then as he aimlessly wandered onwards in the endless, heatless desert. He often paused to wonder what had happened to him after he had saved that human from those other humans, and his wondering often led him to think about Lyra, which in turn led him to think about his family he had been torn away from, albeit unintentionally in his case. It was at that point he thought it was a good idea to think about what just went wrong with Twilight Sparkle's spell.

"Wait, t-that's Big Macintosh! But why is he a... Nevermind! Big Macintosh! Over here! Look over here!"

What was supposed to be an advanced teleportation spell he volunteered to be used on himself had turned out to be a... - well, whatever the word associated with failure he was looking for - of a spell that turned him into something that he wasn't before and sent him into a place where humans were running amok fighting each other. He knew little of humans and from what Lyra regaled him of them, he didn't want to know more despite her tales. And with good reason. What he saw today was proof of humanity's innate cruelty.

"Big Macintosh?! Can you hear us?!"

"Oh no! I don't think he can!"

"But he looked right at me when I called out his name earlier! He must know we're here, somehow!"

And now, he was a human, a being that most ponies feared in Equestria despite their possible non-existence due to the rumors, myths, and legends surrounding them. Big Macintosh of course had heard of a few of them, recalling the lack of anything special about them but that they made up for it with their viciousness and tenacity. Or was it determination and stubbornness? Either way, would that mean he was now a vicious and tenacious or determined and stubborn stallion - er, man - now that he was turned into one of them?

Face scrunching up in extreme confusion, he promptly stopped in his tracks and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

"Big Macintosh! Please, oh please, turn around to look at us!"

How he knew what that part of his face was called, he didn't know why, but this time he didn't want to blame Lyra.

He didn't know what to think anymore, and the loneliness of being in this silent desert was starting to get to him.

"Faust, what I wouldn't do to get back home." He murmured to himself, then sighed again. "I miss everyone."

"Big Macintosh! We're here! You're not alone! I'll even throw a party right now to show you!"

"No, no no! We can't hold the portal open any more! Everypony, get back into the portal, now!"

But when Big Macintosh looked up into the sky in his despair, he saw something that he deemed out of this world.

"What in the..."

"We'll come back for you, Mac! I promise! We'll come back!"

Far above him, a blur in the sky was getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared. Mac, predictably, just gaped.

Then he nonchalantly shrugged as the blur was quickly replaced by blue. "Oh, great. Now I'm seeing things. I'm going crazy."

Suddenly he felt something climb on his shoulder and prick him, and to his surprise he saw it was a metallic-looking scorpion.

"Buck!" He swore as he flicked the sneaky creature off him. It sank into the sand, leaving the blond feeling delirious.

"Horseapples..." He whispered to himself as he cradled his affected, yellowing arm and observed it. "I've been poisoned."

That scorpion had one hay of a venom, unfortunately. Big Macintosh felt his strength failing him as he fell into one knee. He began to feel hotter and weaker, and he was starting to find it hard to breathe. A hand shot up to his chest - he could feel his heart beginning to beat slower, and his lungs were slowing as well. He managed out a heavy cough, but what splattered into his closed fist was none other than blood, but of a different color - and it was a sickening light yellow.

He actually stared in horror at it, even feeling weaker than he previously was before.

"Eenope."

That was all he could say before he fell into a coughing fit, each cough sending thick, light yellow blood into the sand.

"Medic." Miss Pauling called worriedly as she watched the civilian suddenly convulse. "What's going on?"

The Medic stared at the civilian, unaware that a surprised grin was forming on his lips. "I think his body is resisting the serum!"

Big Macintosh heaved out one last cough, and the last of the contaminated blood splattered over the sand in front of him. Putting on a disgusted look, he limped away from the yellow sludge he left behind as far as his body would let him, before he tripped and fell on his knee again. His vision was darkening and he never felt so hot before. It wasn't long until he felt his heart stop beating and his lungs stop moving. With wide eyes he frantically look around for anything that could help from the inevitable.

But he saw only sand that stretched as far as his eyes could see. Then realized something as he felt himself give.

He was going to die a lonely death in this God-forsaken place.

"Applejack, Apple Bloom, Granny Smith... I'm so sorry."

Big Macintosh breathed his last. In his last moments he expected Death in whatever form he was in to take him away already.

But why did he feel like he was waking up, instead of dying?

With the sound of a deep diver taking precious air into his equally precious lungs, the civilian woke up with a start.

Team RED failed to suppress their scream of surprise as Miss Pauling too screamed and jumped, sending her chair flying to the Heavy's knee. It was only after the Heavy smashed the offending chair did everyone calm down and watched as the civilian returned to lying on his bed. The Medic calmly approached the blond man and noted that he was in a state of borderline consciousness - though it didn't seem that way.

He barely acted borderline conscious, as he was alternatively groaning and coughing in pain.

"Fraulein Pauling?" The German called out quietly as the woman shakily put on her glasses. "The truth serum has failed, I believe. I think it is time for you to ask the civilian your questions. You are running out of time."

"O-Of course." She said, before composing herself in front of the rest of the still startled mercenaries.

Clearing her throat, she went back to the man's side and leaned forward to the man's ear. "Sir?"

"Hnng?" The civilian murmured as his eyes slowly opened. "'s that you, Miss Sparkle?"

Everyone saw that he had emerald eyes, but nobody commented on it.

"No, I'm someone else." Pauling said, then took out her note board and her pen. "What's your name, sir?"

"Argh." The blond groaned, before he weakly shook his head. "Mah name... It's Macintosh Apple, ma'am."

"What a nice name." The Assistant replied, hastily scribbling down the civilian's name. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from... Ponyville." He said, garnering odd looks from the mercenaries except for the Pyro who took it in stride.

"I see." Pauling eagerly continued to scribble her findings. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-four." The man said with a cringe, not at how old he was, but at the pain he was feeling everywhere.

"When were you born?"

"I..."

Another hasty scribble, though it sounded longer than the previous scribbles.

"Blood type?"

"O."

Yet another hasty scribble.

A smile was apparent on the woman's face as she reviewed the information she had obtained, while the watching REDs nervously glanced at each other save for the Engineer, Pyro, and Spy. Whatever was going on right now, they weren't sure on what to feel about it, but they were astonished at the fact that the man freely gave away his personal information in front of strangers, though the truth serum, even though it failed, might have helped in the long run. But it begged the question; 'How was his body able to resist it in the first place?'

Miss Pauling lifted the page she was writing on to look at the next criteria the Administrator wanted her to fill in, but her eyes widened and her face paled when saw what was written on the following page. Concernedly, the Engineer was about to say something, but was stopped at the last second by the Spy who tapped on his shoulder and shook his head at him subtly, his eyes gesturing to Miss Pauling for him. The Assistant looked up from her board to look at the civilian, then back to the board, and back to the civilian again.

"Mr. Apple?" Pauling called out to him hesitantly, bottom lip quivering a bit. "Would you please sign here?"

"Huh?"

The blond man stared at her in confusion, but his hand reached for the pen she offered anyways as she turned the note board to face him. The civilian shrugged his confusion off and tried to concentrate, squinting his eyes. It took a few seconds, but eventually he managed to sign a unintelligible scrawl on it. The look on Miss Pauling's face hardened, and eventually she looked away from the civilian. She took back her pen, and, after staring at the scrawl the man made, sighed sadly.

"Welcome to RED, Mr. Apple." She said, and that was all Big Macintosh heard before he passed out.

Meanwhile, the RED team erupted into chaos.

Author's Note

Hmm. Interesting.

~~*Updated as of 16th of July, 2014.~~
**Updated as of 5th of January, 2015. I really, really need to continue this.

Chapter IV: Class Training, Part I

The RED infirmary remained chaotic as Miss Pauling sighed and gently rubbed her temples.

The mercenaries were yelling out their disbelief or were indulging in even more disbelief as she remained calm in the eye of the sudden storm of protesting voices. The only ones who seemed to not totally freak out about the civilian's abrupt join to RED were the Engineer - who was warned ahead of time by the Spy - the Spy himself - who had somehow seen this coming - and oddly enough, the Pyro, who happened to be still staring at the now sleeping man in the bed before him and thoroughly ignored everything happening around him.

"Fraulein Pauling?!"

"Oi lady, what do you think you're doing, letting a civvie like him fight with us?!"

"What the bloody hell, lass?!"

"Big man fights with us now? But why?"

"My God! Miss Pauling, what you've done is a breach of all our contracts!"

Everyone paused to stare at the Soldier, before shrugging and returning to the scenario before them.

"I'm sorry everyone, but I didn't have a choice. I was under the Administrator's orders to recruit Mr. Apple to RED." She explained slowly, clearing a strand of hair that got in the way of her eyes. "And I didn't want to disappoint her - all of you here know fully well what's she's like when she's... displeased, especially if someone ever disobeys her orders."

"True..." The Engineer nodded uneasily as he tipped his hardhat up. "But still ma'am, that doesn't mean she can just hire Mr. Apple here out of the blue! What if he's just a tourist who lost his way to the nearest town, and just happened to be passing by trying to find his way back?"

The others exchanged murmurs while the Medic stepped even closer to the sleeping man before him to study him, holding a note board of his own, carefully inspecting every part of the man he could right now as he listed down his observations like an overworked scientist getting a breakthrough in his tedious research. As he did so, the curious Soldier reached out a finger to poke the sleeping man in the ribs to sate whatever he was thinking about, but the Medic saw it and harshly swatted it away before it touched the civilian-turned-RED.

The Heavy silently chuckled at his teammates' interaction before returning to the unfolding drama before him.

"Mr. Apple is not a tourist, Engineer." The Spy motioned warily to the sleeping blond. "I checked his pockets while no one was looking, and I found no passport of any kind on him. He's definitely not a tourist, if you also take note of his clothes."

To illustrate his point, the Frenchman pointed to Big Macintosh's farm clothing.

"No man in his right mind would go out into a desert dressed like that." He concluded, smirking proudly.

"The Spy's right." The Demoman readily agreed, only after taking a good look himself. "Hell, even if I'm drunk, I wouldn't go out into a desert dressed in those clothes!"

"Meaning big man is stranger to deserts?" The Heavy questioned, while the Soldier cupped his chin and thought about it himself.

"Yes, possibly." The Spy nodded to the Russian. "So, that leads me to believe that he's entirely... something else."

"Something else?" The Sniper repeated impatiently, to which the Demoman raised his eyebrow in question as well.

"Mfph mph mmphy! Mfph mfrmph mph mphd mmpfh Mrffmphia!"

Everyone, bar the Engineer, looked at the Pyro as if he'd spontaneously grown two extra heads for saying such a thing.

"What." Miss Pauling simply said in surprise, while the Texan sighed and scratched the back of his head.

"Pyro, pardner, I'm really sorry to burst your bubble, but he ain't a pony." The Engineer lectured gently. "And no, he's not from a made-up land called Equestria. He's a man just like you are, born somewhere here in America, or wherever the heck Ponyville is."

The Engineer spared a glance at the sleeping blond, and then wisely added: "Or at least I think so."

"Mrfph mph mrph!" The Pyro pouted, but the Engineer shook his head and ignored him.

"Oh put a sock in it, Pyro." The Soldier snickered warmly as he affectionately put a hand on the fire lover's shoulder.

The Pyro crossed his arms and annoyedly 'hmphed' in response.

"Anyways..." The Spy continued with a clearing of his throat. "Now that we've made sure that Mr. Apple is not a tourist and that he has joined us in our war with BLU, shall we let go of the topic of his recruitment - for now - and focus on another that is equally important?"

"What?" Everyone asked carefully, except for Miss Pauling who seemed to know what the Spy was getting at.

"What class should he ought to be?"

Dreaming was something that Big Macintosh enjoyed during a well-deserved sleep after a hard day's work at Sweet Apple Acres, but he wasn't sure if he could count dreaming after being questioned by an ambiguously brown woman who coincidentally resembled Twilight Sparkle as enjoyable. Or was that a dream too? That he wasn't sure about, but then again he had a very weird day so far. Oh well, what did that matter anyway? He was asleep, and to top it off, he was dreaming.

Lucid dreaming, to be specific.

This time the blond found himself standing alone not in a desert full of unending sand and metallic scorpions, but in a forest that resembled the Everfree Forest in a sense. Not that it meant he never been to the place before, but that he'd been there enough times to know what the area was like. He shuddered as he felt the cold air rush over him as a wind gushed through the forest, sending the leaves rustling towards one direction - which happened to be towards him.

It was a nice change from the heatless desert he'd previously been in, though he suddenly felt intimidated.

"But this..." He muttered, a sudden brave smile on his face. "This, I could get used to."

As he ventured into what he knew was his dreamscape, his thoughts wandered off into thinking about his family, too worried about them to pay attention to his shifting surroundings. Behind him, a part of Sweet Apple Acres was forming and replacing the forest behind him, the apple trees for which the Apples were known for growing and harvesting heavily laden with, well, apples - sprouting out of the ground in neat rows as he moved onwards.

Eventually, most of Big Macintosh's dream forest was replaced with the farm he lived and worked on for his entire life. Half his house was in place where it was supposed to be and the other half was still materializing as the pony-turned-human continued thinking deeply while on the move about his predicament to even notice. He soon stopped in his tracks and sighed a long, wistful sigh. By Faust, he missed his hometown and family very much. He actually missed everyone. Even the Flim-Flam brothers, who nearly drove his family out of business.

Was he that homesick already?

He thought so, not that he thought anyone can blame him for it. Who would want to, anyway?

"Big Macintosh?!"

Big Macintosh immediately froze. Somehow, one of the voices from the desert he was in was back to distract him.

But why did that voice sound much clearer, and much louder, and so much like-

"Applejack?!" The man called out as he rapidly turned around, but only saw the forest path he'd been through.

He even recognized the rock on the trodden road he nearly stepped on.

Big Macintosh closed his eyes, and shook his head to clear his mind. "Oh, that's just darned great. Now I'm hallucinating about hearing Applejack's voice, in my lucid dream. Eeyup, I'm definitely going crazy, even while I'm dreaming."

With a frustrated growl, he let his anger get the best of him. In turn, he threw a punch into a tree he stood right next to. It collapsed loudly to the ground, it being uprooted by the force of his punch. Other trees fell over too, them being taken down by it as it topped over. A multitude of trees both near and far rustled while leaves fell because of the impact, some flying into the wind and others staying where they fell to.

Big Macintosh stared at the mess he made, before he turned to run.

"Damn it all!"

Whether if it was the anger of being away from his family, or the fact he was still a human and was starting to lose it, that caused him to start running away, he didn't know for sure, but running suddenly sounded like a good idea to calm himself as he sprinted off deeper into his Everfree Forest-esque dreamscape. He didn't care about encountering weird monsters or things that were worse; he remembered he was in a lucid dream and that he had full control over it.

... Well, not really. He was just subconsciously reassuring himself.

As the troubled man ran, he failed to notice the cloaked, black figure that followed him deeper into the woodland.

The Scout's eyes blinked twice to adjust to the bright light over him. His ears could catch voices conversing with each other as his right hand reached to cover one of his eyes while rubbing it. With a soft yawn he rose while stretching, feeling his strength returning to his arms and legs. Overdrawing out his now silent yawn as he continued to stretch, stretch, and stretch, he finally stopped half-a-minute later and sleepily looked around, absentmindedly smacking his lips.

He saw clean white walls, clean white beds, a clean white ceiling, a clean white tiled floor, clean white ceiling lights, a group of older men wearing red, the wrecked remains of a brown chair on the floor, a fully clothed sleeping man on a bed not too far away, and a pretty woman wearing purple standing in the middle of those men wearing red clothes. If another man was in his shoes, now was the perfect time to realize he was in his base's infirmary...

Because the Scout didn't. He believed he was dreaming one of those weird waking dreams again as his senses very, very slowly returned. Enjoying the sight of the pretty woman when he turned to look at her again, he smiled, and decided to wave at her to draw her attention away from the men who were obviously hitting on her, so she could found out how much of a hunk he was and then decide to go out with him much to the chagrin of the older men.

The woman paused in talking with the men, then looked at him quizzically, before waving back.

"Oh man, she waved back at me." The Scout whispered to himself dreamily. "I'm making progress hooking up with her already."

There was a scoff from the woman, and she began to walk towards the Scout, whose smile widened every step.

"Annnnnd she's getting closer to me." He was grinning. "My plan worked, oh yeah! Hey baby, come over here. Gimme a kiss to make the start of my day even better!"

And then the Scout 'seductively' closed his eyes and leaned in for a 'quick' kiss from the 'imaginary' woman.

SMACK!

He got a slap to the face instead, and then he fell back to the world of unconsciousness, flopping back to his pillow.

Miss Pauling huffed to calm herself, before turning to the amused REDs. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

The Medic coughed to stop his internal laughter. "On the subject of whether or not we should let Herr Apple become a Spy, Fraulein Pauling, as suggested by Herr Spy himself."

"Oh. Right." The woman said as she mentally readjusted back to the conversation. "I don't think we should."

"That was worth a shot." The Spy sighed defeatedly, the Engineer patting him on the shoulder. "Ah, well."

The Heavy hummed thoughtfully, causing everyone to look at him. "How about big man... becoming Soldier?"

Everyone turned to face the Soldier thoughtfully.

"Well, what do you think, Soldier?" The Engineer asked for everyone, his hand cupping his chin in afterthought.

That idea actually didn't sound bad - it didn't hurt to have another Soldier on the team rain down rocket hell on the BLUs.

"I don't know..." The Soldier began uncomfortably, after giving it considerable thought himself. "Though Private Apple's got the build for it, I can't say how good he'll be at being a Soldier unless I see him in action, after he gets some training from me. I'll think about it, but then again..."

"'S fine, Soldier." The Sniper replied, adjusting his shades as he leaned forward. "Well back on topic, so far we've ruled the man out being a Scout, a Pyro, a Sniper, a Spy, a Medic, or an Engineer, leaving him being a Soldier as a 'maybe' for now."

The Demoman stepped in. "Aye, he's too bulky and too strong for those roles except for being a Soldier, and I think when I say this everyone'll agree that he'll make a good Heavy because of his strength. Or at least, a Demoman."

Everyone else nodded at the Scotsman's words and even murmured more in agreement.

"Just making sure, but does anyone think Herr Apple will be better off as a different class rather than a Heavy, Soldier, or a Demoman?" The Medic asked, gazing across the infirmary. "No?"

Nobody said anything, but they shrugged or shook their heads instead.

"So it's settled then." The German clasped his gloved hands together, smiling. "Herr Apple will be either one of the three chosen classes. How splendid!"

"Most likely he'll be a Soldier, though." The Soldier beamed. "I'll be looking forward to having him fight with us when the time comes."

"After some training from hell, of course." The Sniper quipped from the sidelines. He was good-naturedly ignored.

"I, for one, will be glad to call him my battle-brother if he chooses to become a Heavy like I am." The Heavy, eloquently - in rare perfect English - added too, a soft smile tugging on his lips.

The Demoman snorted, smirking at the bald Russian. "Not if I can show him the joys of being a drunkard first, Heavy!"

Everyone minus the Engineer laughed, except for the Pyro and Miss Pauling who giggled instead.

He hummed for a bit. Then the Texan decided it was time to clear his throat, making everyone settle down and look at him.

"Fellas, now, I know it's a good thing we've reached a decision on what class he could be once he's up and running and all, but..." He stopped with a frown. "There's still a problem we haven't dealt with, or even talked about in the first place."

"Well, what is it Engineer?" The Spy wondered curiously as he turned to faced his teammate. "Do tell us."

The Engineer hesitated, but relented. "What'll happen if... if Mr. Apple here doesn't want to fight with us?"

A tense silence fell.

Team RED had forgotten to take into account the man's own opinion into the matter.

"He'll have to if he wants to live."

Everyone sharply turned to look at Miss Pauling. She stood firm at the serious attention she was getting.

"Let me explain, everyone. Because he signed his contract - even under unusual circumstances - Mann Co. technically owns him now as per the terms written in the fine print. There's nothing he can do about it, short of killing himself or hiding from the company. Also, the other option will end up killing him anyway if he does try to hide from us before his contract expires, which is - sadly - never. There's no place he can hide should the Administrator sets her sights on him. And, if he still refuses to cooperate despite having no choice, he'll be summarily executed on the spot either by one of you or by one of the BLUs, on or off the battlefield."

"Oh. Damn." The Engineer gasped, shocked. "But wait a minute, does that also mean we're-"

"No." She cut him off abruptly. "No. Everyone of you in this very room aside from him have normal contract terms, meaning all of you are safe to leave the company at any given time if the Administrator gives you her permission to. Mr. Macintosh Apple, on the other hand, is a special case. A very special case."

"Dare I ask why?" The Spy asked with a raised brow, his voice edged.

"I can't say." Miss Pauling frowned honestly. "The Administrator forbade me from telling anyone."

"I see..." The Spy narrowed his eyes. That was cause for suspicion. He'll investigate later.

The RED infirmary fell quiet again, the only sounds left in the room being the Scout's and Macintosh's gentle snoring and everyone else's breathing. The REDs made eye contact with each other, all wondering the same thing: What was so special about their newest teammate, Macintosh Apple, that made their boss practically enslave him?

Miss Pauling coughed. "I should get going now, since I've already done what I came here to do."

The mercenaries moved out of her way as she made for the door, carrying her belongings with her. She stopped as she reached for the doorknob though, a random thought crossing her mind. Shrugging it off after taking a long look at the scribble Big Macintosh scrawled on his contract, she turned back to look at the men whom she grown accustomed to over the years.

"I'll see you all later, gentlemen. Someone please tell Scout that I'm sorry for what I did to him earlier. And, good luck with your upcoming battle next week. Oh, and by the way, someone should clean up that mess Heavy made on the floor. Bye."

And with that, the Assistant left the REDs to their own problems, gently closing the door behind her.

"So..." The Soldier began, long after Miss Pauling went to wherever the Administrator was. "What'll we do now?"

"Now?" The smirking Medic echoed, leaning towards the Soldier while chuckling darkly. "Let's go make a class training routine for Herr Apple. We have the rest of the day to plan what's best for him."

Author's Note

Ooohh. A multi-parter. Neat.

~~*Updated as of 19th of July, 2014.~~
**Updated as of 5th of January, 2015. I want to finish this. I really do.

Chapter V: Intermission

Elsewhere, over the skies of the Egyptian desert...

A plane flew through the clouds at a dismally slow pace, the sun's rays of light reflecting from its hull. From below it would seem that nothing was out of the ordinary with it, but then again nobody from that distance would be able to see a lone man fighting not one, but two adult grizzly bears inside in the plane's cargo hold, excitedly baring his teeth as adrenaline coursed through his body - despite knowing fully well that the bears were attempting to eat him alive.

The said man was having a really good time, alternatively dodging or trying to take down one of the furry threats. Once or twice he was nearly pinned down by the coordinating beasts, but he always prevailed in escaping their grasp at the last second and always returned the favor. Now this time he was over one of the bears, an arm wrapped around it's neck trying to suffocate it into unconsciousness while his feet kept the other bear at bay.

Eventually, the bear he was strangling fell on it's chest, out of air, and so he focused his attention at his remaining foe, before he abruptly ducked to dodge the clawed swipe it sent to him. Without a second thought he grabbed the bear's outstretched paw, held on to it tightly, and with all his might quickly lifted the animal over his head to slam it's back hard on it's ally's belly on the floor, resulting in a comical 'oof' from both mammals, the wind in their lungs being knocked out. The bear on top rolled over to the floor, flopping on it's belly.

The bears promptly groaned in pain. Then they fainted.

A satisfied smile graced the man's moustached face as he put his hands on his hips, looking down at his fallen opponents in pride. The bears he fought lasted longer than he had expected, and he felt fulfilled that he had fought at least two worthy opponents today, winning the intentionally uneven fight only by the use of his bare hands and legs and without a weapon - and not even getting a fatal scratch on him the entire time. He patted the defeated bears affectionately on their bellies and turned around to face a lonesome applause.

A Caucasian man in a black suit and tie was blankly staring at him as he continued to idly clap at the man's amazingly awesome achievement and accomplishment. He was in his 30's, and had black hair that was neatly parted to the right. But aside from that, he looked indifferent to the spectacle he'd seen - as if he had seen it happen countless times. Actually he had, because it happened he was a personal aide of the manly and muscled man across him.

"Most impressive, sir." He complemented his boss curtly. "And before you ask, we are already at your stop."

The man gave a thumbs up to him, unaware of his aide's boredom. He was shirtless, and his glistening with sweat muscles were toned - to the point that it almost seemed impossible to wound them. His chest hair resembled Australia. He wore short beige pants with a tight black belt, a brown arm band on his left wrist, and a pair of brown shoes that reached up to only his ankles. And finally, there was his ordinary leather slouch hat to describe.

It was decorated with the teeth of each of the fallen, extremely dangerous animals he personally beat up to a bloody pulp.

Everyone, meet-

"SAXTON HALE!"

The eponymous man bellowed his name as he bravely leapt out of the plane, his destination the Egyptian complex situated far below him. The mad rush of air he felt as he descended at an alarming rate cooled him from the unforgiving heat from the sun, not that he needed it in the first place - he was too cool for the sun to burn. Or maybe the sun didn't dare to burn him. Either way, still descending but now at a much faster pace, he enjoyed the feeling of falling weightlessness, but not as much as he enjoyed fighting rare, probably endangered animals on his own.

He was now already half-way to the complex, his lips forming a grin as he closed the distance. He had jumped off the plane from quite the height and now that he had thought about it, he hadn't brought a parachute with him.

But he didn't care.

Saxton Hale was a man, or more importantly, an Australian. An Australian of his caliber wouldn't let something like gravity stop him from doing what he wanted to do, even if it appeared suicidal to others. What would they know, anyways?

Now where was he? Ah yes, he was still falling.

The complex was getting closer, but that only served to make Saxton Hale eager to make his landing very dramatic. He looked around, and to his relief, saw a glass window that he just knew belonged to the BLU base that was created there, where he was supposed to be going. Preparing, he defied gravity one more time as he swam in the air towards it, making sure that his clenched, unprotected fist was the first to connect with it. He smirked, knowing that he'd be surprising someone today.

One could now count the seconds it would now take him to break through the window.

1...

2...

3...

PROPERTY DAMAGE!!

Through the shower of glass after landing on his feet, Saxton Hale slowly stood up to face the BLU Spy and Miss Pauling.

Earlier...

Miss Pauling didn't go back to the Administrator after her visit to team RED.

Instead of immediately reporting back to her, she went straight to the BLUs' base as per her orders. The interiors of Builder's League United's base were cool in color, more modern in design, and reminded the Assistant of the halls of Teufort where all the mercenaries had started their first battle in, as she quietly walked through the concrete corridors, her footsteps echoing through them. It's been a long while since that time, but Pauling didn't come here to reminisce about days long gone - no, she was coming to the BLUs to inform them of recent events.

Recent events which involved a civilian turned RED.

Yes, sometimes being the Assistant was hard, informing both sides of the conflict about everything.

Though, it was funny to see how no mercenary from both teams managed to put two and two together during the years they spent fighting for their respective companies - that nobody ever seemed to realize that their Administrator and her Assistant were also the bosses for the opposite team. Being fed half-truths and good lies as time passed while being paid a salary that reached at least seven digits must have helped, since they all never bothered to ask around, namely why were they fighting against another team and killing each other pointlessly.

But lying was still something the woman didn't like.

Miss Pauling remembered helping to set up Jane Doe (the BLU Soldier) and Tavish DeGroot (the RED Demoman), two men who were formerly the best of friends, to fight each other over something that either man had claimed the other had done. That was one of the worst things that she'd done during the course of her career - not counting the time she murdered the idiotic Director in cold blood after he interviewed the RED mercenaries - because, despite her neutrality which she learned to embrace in her line of work, it was still depressing to see them tearing each other apart in misguided revenge, no matter how many times they exploded into giblets of themselves.

But orders were orders, and she had no choice but to follow them.

And besides, she was being paid quite the fat paycheck too.

Eventually, she reached the door to the BLUs' infirmary. She put her ear to the door, making sure that someone awake was at least inside. However, she could hear the gentle snoring of most of the BLU team. Peeking through the keyhole, she saw that everyone was practically asleep. She wondered if now was a good time to bother them, but upon recalling the Administrator's orders, decided that it was and that she had no choice but to carry them out. She knocked on the door, hoping that someone would be able to answer it.

Within a minute or so, it was none other than the Spy who answered the door, looking as if he had been awake for hours.

"Ah. Bonjour, Mademoiselle Pauling." He greeted her with a nod as he opened the door wide enough.

"Hello, Spy." She greeted back, then glanced at the occupied beds behind him. "My goodness. Is everyone okay?"

"They are now." The Spy glanced too. "The Medic and I worked together to bring them back to full health."

"And the Medic?"

"He's currently sleeping, but he'll be right as rain once he wakes up with the others." The Frenchman replied, tilting his head curiously. "By the way, I know you haven't come here to check up on our health, Mademoiselle. I believe you have new information you wish to share with us?"

"Yes, I do." The Assistant nodded. This was what she liked about Spies - they were often straight to the point. "It's about the new RED member that defeated your team."

"I remember that man as clear as day." The Spy said with a wince, but his expression immediately changed to a more pleasant one. "Would you like to tell me all what you know about him over a cup of hot tea?"

"Yes, thank you." Pauling was grateful. "But shouldn't we wait for the others?"

"Oh don't worry, Mademoiselle Pauling. I will tell them all what I'll learn from you later. I promise you."

The Frenchman, leaving his teammates behind, gently closed the infirmary door behind him and led Miss Pauling to the BLU's kitchen and dining room combined. It was a big room - on one side was the kitchen where every utensil, both for cooking and for eating were being kept and stored, and on the opposite side was the dining room. In that part of the room there was a large flat-screen TV, and a round table big enough to fit nine fully grown men with nine matching chairs. There was also a nice view of the desert through a large glass window not too far away too.

The Spy immediately began to rush through the cabinets, getting and preparing what he needed for two cups of hot tea - boiling the kettle for hot water, setting up the tea bags, etc. Miss Pauling in the meanwhile took a random seat at the table as she set down her documents for the Frenchman to read (she replaced the note board she used at the RED base with dossiers fresh off a printer) across the dull, spotless metal table's surface. After a while or so the Spy returned with two steaming cups of tea on a tray which he gracefully put down in front of her.

Nodding her thanks, the Assistant took her cup of tea and sipped first. She breathed a sigh of relief as the Spy took his.

"Now, let's get down straight to business." Miss Pauling said as the Spy sat across her. "I assume you don't know anything else about this man, other than what he looks like?"

"Oui."

"Well then, here's what I all know about him." She handed the Spy her dossier.

The Frenchman gingerly took it, carefully opening the file. His eyes meticulously scanned through the pages one word at a time, his face unreadable even after he finished reading and closed it. Just as carefully, he handed it back to the Assistant. He then clasped his hands together and put his chin on top of them, falling into a contemplative mood. He was slowly absorbing all what he learned. Meanwhile, he stared at his tea in concentration. Suddenly a smirk formed on his lips, and he looked over at Miss Pauling.

"What an interesting man." He mused to himself, before sipping his tea. "Dare I say acquiring this information was harder than it sounded?"

Miss Pauling nodded, sipping of her tea as well. "Yes, it was. I can attest to that."

"Hmm-hmm." The Spy hummed. "Shall I repeat to myself what information I've learned from you, so you can correct me if you find my knowledge lacking?"

"Go ahead, Spy." The Assistant shrugged; it's not like she had something more important to do now until she finished doing what she came to the BLU base for.

Which reminded her of something that she was sure was important, but now that she forgot about it...

"Okay. Right..." The Spy muttered as he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then focused. "Here I go."

"The newest RED member. His real name, or alias, is Macintosh Apple. His place of birth is unknown; as 'Ponyville' doesn't exist on the face of the world - therefore making his nationality a complete mystery in itself. Where is he really from, I wonder? His exact date of birth is also unknown, but however, he has claimed that he is of the age of thirty-four - therefore making his birth date at least somewhere between the years of 1933 and 1935, give or take a few months. His blood type is O, and his DNA is quite unique."

"By unique, I mean that it has been discovered that there are strands of something unidentified in them that has left even Mann Co's top scientists baffled. Currently, his DNA is the only one of its kind in the world - attempts to extract it and other similar events done to it have always ended in failure. Complete, utter failure, even when the most strictest and safest protocols known to science has been put in place."

"It is unknown if he has family, living or otherwise; if he does, then they are doing a good job pretending not to exist, like he had done before he joined the damned REDs. He is physically stronger than the average man, as my poor cheek and my teammates can prove - he is also taller than the average man as well, even taller than the Snipers and Heavies of both teams. His chosen class within the ranks of RED is unknown as of now. It is unknown what weapons he favors as of now. However, it seems that he is a master at fighting unarmed, being able to beat the whole of team BLU with only his bare hands and on his own even under unfair circumstances."

"What I say next is not part of the dossier's provided information, so please, do not interrupt me Miss Pauling. This is from the theories of my allies. It has been speculated amongst ourselves that Macintosh Apple has been exposed to possibly a small amount of Australium before, as his strength is highly unusual in the fact that he was able to defeat my dear friend the Heavy with a single punch to the unfortunate man's face, not to mention his considerable endurance and surprisingly fast speed."

"Even after he was restrained by two of our strongest men and beaten up by the others, especially our own Engineer, he was still able to fight the Scout - our fastest and most unpredictable teammate - one-on-one, and unbelievably, win. He even proceeded to defeat the rest of team BLU to rescue his comrade the RED Scout, landing us in our current predicament of having all of us BLUs reeling and resting from our unofficial defeat."

The Spy took another deep breath to replace the air he lost during his non-stop talking, and opened his eyes.

"In conclusion, Macintosh Apple of RED is a major threat to BLU. He must be dealt with. Immediately."

The BLU Spy took his time to take a well-deserved sip of his tea as Miss Pauling sat there in silence, going over the Frenchman's recall of all the information she shared to him, and of the information that she already knew of - as well as his team's speculations about the new RED mercenary. She made a mental note to herself to update and upload the information she gave the Spy into the record concerning Macintosh Apple in their databases, once she was able to.

"So, Mademoiselle Pauling..." The Spy broke through her thoughts, asking thoughtfully. "Do you find my knowledge lacking?"

"No, Spy. Not at all." She shook her head slowly. "Not at all."

The Spy chuckled light-heartedly, finishing his tea. "Looks like I still got it, then."

Miss Pauling was about to say something when she stopped. She had remembered what she forgot about earlier. Images of a muscular man wearing nothing but short beige pants and a leather slouch hat accompanying the screaming and the howling of endangered beasts being beaten up were swimming and echoing in her mind. How in the world did she forget about it?

The CEO of Mann Co. was going to pay a visit today.

"Uh, Spy?"

"Oui?"

She glanced at the window, seeing the human-shaped speck behind it growing bigger in size. Then she looked back at the Spy.

"Duck."

Through the shower of glass, the BLU Spy and Miss Pauling turned to face a rising Saxton Hale.

Present time...

Saxton Hale smiled at Miss Pauling as he brushed glass off himself, unaffected by the laws of physics.

The Spy, after composing himself, holstered his revolver as Saxton Hale approached them, casually crushing more glass under his feet into fine dust, and then some. The bewildered Spy couldn't decide what was more surprising - that Miss Pauling didn't flinch when the Australian burst through the window overlooking the desert all of a sudden, or that Mann Co's CEO was in the same room as he was, but albeit smelling faintly of sweat, tears, blood, and animals to his extreme distaste. His face even scrunched up at the horrible smell.

"Hello, Mr. Hale." The Assistant greeted him warmly. "I trust that you didn't have a hard time getting here, I hope?"

"Nonsense, Miss Pauling." Replied the Australian with a friendly wave. "The animals weren't too much trouble."

"I see." She replied with a knowing nod. "Has Bidwell by any chance told you why the Administrator asked for you?"

"Yes, and I'm curious about it." Saxton shrugged, folding his arms. "Helen said she found an endangered animal for me to beat."

"Well, not exactly..." Pauling frowned, then glanced at the Spy. "I'll explain later, Mr. Hale. Can you please follow me for now?"

"Alright."

Miss Pauling grabbed hold of her documents, and after thanking the BLU Spy for the tea, left with the Australian who was waiting for her by the door. Alone with his thoughts again, the Frenchman shook his head and looked back to the broken glass and its crushed pieces on the floor. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose when he realized he'd have to clean up the mess his company's CEO made.

"Putain. I do not get paid enough for this."

Author's Note

Must... Improve... Writing... Skills...
Anyways, here goes Chapter V.
...
I feel like I need to be shot. No, really.

~~*Updated as of 25th of July, 2014.~~
**Updated as of 5th of January, 2015. It's about damn time that I published a new chapter for this, don'tcha think?