BLU Headquarters. Map: 2fort, CTF.

[hands_of_blu]

It seems like a perfectly sensible sort of place: pale blue walls, tile flooring, fluorescent lighting high overhead, lockers. There's even a pinup calendar.

But a close look shows the equipment locker to contain more ammunition than some Third World countries use in a month, and the same personal locker that has the small flowered purse in it has a note about asbestos stuck to the door, and the air has that faint tang of antiseptic scrub that only really happens when vast quantities of the stuff are used to wipe out every other smell possible. And a peek out the big, garage-like door reveals what looks not unlike the inside of a barn, save for the weathered Builders League United logo on the wall...


[OOC: This is the BLU side's initial post for the Team Fortress 2 plot. If you want to play on RED, stop by battin1000. Orientation takes place here and when people get in on both sides we'll have the actual war post. Consult the 2fort Team Fortress 2 wiki page to get an idea of the grounds we'll be playing on!]

Comments

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

The lanky fellow whips around to have a look at the source of the noise, and sucks wind between his teeth. "Well, I'll be blown," he mutters, peering over his sunglasses at the girl. "What's a civilian like you doin' all this way out here, eh?"

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

"Like you? What the hell that's supposed to mean? And I'm not a civilian, I'm.... Um."

Her reflexive, nerve-driven rant sputters out once she realizes that there's a small problem with her argument. You know, other than the part where she's on the ground surrounded by fallen machinery bits and he's got a gun nearly as tall as she is.

"What's a civilian?"

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"You're joking, right?" One more look over the glasses and then he pushes them back up his nose, shaking his head. "Nah, you're not... look, you're in the middle of a war zone, miss. This is Builders League United headquarters, and you're not on the team. Unless you're a RED in disguise, you've got no business at all being here." He gives a humorless smile. "And if you are a RED in disguise, you're a bit early. Start-of-war siren hasn't gone off yet."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

She gawps at him. Over the last couple months she's become uncomfortably familiar with unfriendly smiles, and that's a doozy right there.


"Your war has business hours?" Alright, so she still has something to say. Scared to death doesn't mean speechless, in her case.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Keeps things in line, makes it easier to justify with the folks back home," says the man. "What we do's not exactly public knowledge. Which is why we can't just let you go, either."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

"...." She turns a slightly whiter shade of pale. "How do you mean?"

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"I mean it's ten miles to the nearest habitation that's not BLU or RED property," says the man. "Nobody's about to break off and drive you- we'll get killed on the way out or the way back. If you want to be alive to try and go home at the end of the day you're gonna have to fight along with the rest of us."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

"... What?" This so not happening.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"You heard me, miss." He pushes his hat back with one thumb. "Put on a uniform and pick up a gun if you want t'live."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

"You are so full of shit." She declares, crossing her arms over her skinny chest (which really only makes her look like she's approximately five). "I can't shoot people, I've never even held a gun before."

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Ah? All right, then." He leans over and pulls a blue, rubbery suit out of the locker with the purse in it. "Put this and the mask on. Y'won't have to shoot anyone, just wave the wand and push the button. Simple enough, right?"

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

Her answering stare is deeply, deeply suspicious. She might not know a lot of things, but she's hardly the dullest crayon in the box.

"And then what happens?"

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Well, that'd be when the fire starts, wouldn't it?" he says with a grin. "Look, it's Pyro or Medic if you want to keep your shooting down, and there's no bloody way you're getting away with doing a medic's work."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

"... Wait wait wait, hold up the body count train... Medic? Grouchy, German, swears a lot and won't tell me what it means, that medic?"

What? She's only heard one person ever refer to himself by that name. It's worth a shot.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Oh, you've met our doctor, have you? And you wound up here anyway?" He shakes his head. "Damn. That's a bad spot you've got yourself in."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

"He's been teaching me thi... what do you mean, bad spot?" She interrupts herself, asking suspiciously. It'd be just her luck if the Medic is suddenly in trouble and that trouble is about to transfer to her. It really would be.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Well, see, most people we meet have the sense not to follow us onto the job site, now, don't they," the man says. "Keeps us from havin' to look after 'em during a firefight. Medic's got the whole team to look after, see. He can't just babysit one person, even if he knows 'em personally."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

See, now he's got her all riled up. That's why he has a scrawny teenager momentarily forgetting that he has a gun almost larger than her while she pokes him in the chest with one equally scrawny finger.
"Most people would have enough brain cells to realize I didn't follow anyone anywhere, durbrain, since I don't know where I am or who the hell you are and I'm not looking to be babysat." She rants.

Loudly.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Miss."

The lanky fellow says it very quietly, very calmly. There's even a bit of a smile on his face.

"This here's a war zone, like I said. If you go around in those clothes, everyone on both sides is gonna do their best to take your head off. Meself included. If you put on a uniform and join in the fighting, only half the people here're gonna try to kill you. Sorry if I assumed the wrong thing, but the fact is, it's fight or go down screaming around here."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

She glares at him for a long minute.

Then she snatches the uniform away from him, muttering something about 'not another damn revolution'.

She has no idea how she's going to explain this to Fury.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Nothing of the sort, miss," says the man, clearly finding her reaction entertaining. "Just your standard struggle for territorial supremacy. You see anyone carryin' a blue briefcase full of papers, light 'em up, and you see anyone drop a red one, grab it and bring it back to one of us. We'll handle it from there."

"I'm the team's lead Sniper, by the way. Pleasure t'meet you."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

That set of instructions earns a patently confused look. "Wait, I thought blue was this team." She demands, ignoring his introduction.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Right. The blue briefcase stays here. That's our intel data on the region," says the Sniper. "We're tryin' to get the intel that the Reds've gathered and bring it back to our headquarters, see. Long as there isn't a Red touching it, the blue intel'l take care of itself, but we've got t'bring the Reds' stuff back by hand if we want to keep it."

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

"... Which one of you idiots put all of your intel in one, easy to carry spot?" She finally asks after giving him another long, disbelieving stare.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Wasn't me, mate." The Sniper shrugs easily. "Tell you the truth, it's more a case of being printed out in one place and then stuffed into a briefcase. The intel room's in the basement, see. Easiest place to keep the computers."