Western Canada in the late 1960s is a fine, upstanding part of the country. The cities aren't gigantic, glittering megalopoli by any stretch of the imagination, but they're modern, civil places to live, and they've got plenty of excellent cultural institutions. They're just miles and miles and miles from anything else whatsoever- including, in some parts of the Prairies, carefully concealed, hotly contested war zones.

The BLU sniper is not happy that he had to drive six and a half hours to get a decent drink*, but he intends to make up for lost time at the first bar he sees. His companion on the way into town will be doing the driving on the way back. For now, however, they've parted ways, which makes getting to Milliways and bringing Cata back without attracting attention so much easier.


*The driving is not a problem. The fact that his alcohol supply ran out because his teammates kept taking his stuff, thus necessitating wasting most of his down-time on driving to replace it? That's another story.

As the sun creeps its way up the eastern horizon, a moment of stillness falls over the only two buildings of any size for miles. It scarcely lasts; a thunderously loud siren splits the air...

They know. They all know.

BLU and RED field team operatives alike put down what they were doing and make ready.

The war's on.


[OOC: Welcome to 2fort! This is the official battle post for the Team Fortress 2 plot. Please check the 2fort wiki page for the layout of this particular map, let us know if you need subthreads established for the two separate buildings, poke an NPC or hands_of_blu or battin1000 or crysomemore if you need in-character guidance, and let the bloodshed commence!

Latecomers, feel free to jump in, but you'll be spawning directly into the fighting rather than the orientation posts.]

When you:

- have been a medic for Builders League United's field teams for many years;
- are almost completely certain that your medical school burned down years ago;
- find yourself back at the medical school anyway;
- find yourself in a lecture hall headed inexorably for the lecturer's podium;
- realize that the entire lecture hall has been packed with every single RED you can remember ever having killed, or remember assisted in having killed;
- realize that you are completely and utterly alone;
- realize that none of the REDs are armed;
- realize that they're all focusing on you with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns;
- realize that they're not moving...

Well, there's really only one thing to do, isn't there?

"Guten morgen." The Medic adjusts his glasses, steps up to the podium, and smiles. It is not a nice smile. "Gentlemen, if you vill please look under your desks, you should find a pencil und notebook for each vun of you. Class begins in fünf, vier, drei..."