In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Three: Bullseye's Knock-Out

Footsteps stop short behind me.

Shit. Okay, okay, play it cool.

Turning my head, I see Demoman, scrumpy bottle in hand. "Hey, Demoman," I sheepishly laugh.

"What're you doing sprawled on the ground, lassie?" He rings in his heavy accent, taking me some time to decipher what he asked.

"I-- I fell," I say, rapidly picking up my things to stand upright again. "It was just taking me a moment to get back up."

He peers at my bandaged ankle. "Medic take a look at ya today?"

I shake my head, and my ankle magically starts to bother me since it has been acknowledged. "I should get going."

"Where?" He begins to interrogate.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. To explore? I have to find out where everything is eventually." He doesn't look satisfied with my answer. "But I'm going to my room right now to... do... some more unpacking?" I ask myself more than him. It's enough to cause him to take a swig of his bottle and walk past me.

I can't let my nerves get the best of me just yet and allow me to chicken out on this opportunity. I worked for this position and had Miss Pauling do a lot to convince the Administrator to let me do this, so I can't just waste all of her efforts just because the team and I haven't clicked yet. Have to have a little hope, right? Pathfinding to my room gets easier and easier with each time I do it, which is sort of depressing to admit since I have gone to my room an unhealthy amount of times for two days worth of me being here. Following through on what I said earlier to Demoman is the smart choice, as dumb as it may have been of me to take that one laying down. Assertion apparently no longer exists in my function catalog. I'll look for the phones later, I just need some time to recuperate and collect my thoughts.

A gunshot rings out through the whole building, shaking me to my core. The echoes bring waves of worry over my body. Are we being attacked? Is there a BLU Spy within our ranks? I don't even think twice before dashing off. Where? I don't care. The common room? I turn the corner and see everyone gathered around something in the plaza outside.

"Guys! Guys, what happened?" I pant as I approach the circle. Heavy and Engineer make a hole to have me take a look at what they're surrounding.

A drone.

"Did Sniper shoot it down?" I ask.

Engineer taps the drone with his toe. "I'd like to think so, hasn't come down from his tower to tell us anyth--"

More shots ring out, presumably from Sniper's tower. I cover my ears from the blasts, dropping my binder once again and having papers slide out. Tires squeal from outside the fort's wall, and then a crash ensues. It's quiet for a moment. I remove my hands when I see Sniper step out onto the balcony and lean over the railing. "Oi! We've got a bogey!"

"Bogey. A bogey, what does bogey mean?" I question as scramble I pick up my things.

"Typically means trouble. Scout, come with me," Spy insists. He looks at me as he passes by. "You, too. Bring the drone. Perhaps there's intelligence inside." I stutter minimal protests, looking around at the rest of the group. I end up shoving my papers into Heavy's hands and lug along the contraption. "I hope you know how to use your gun properly."

"Why wouldn't I?" I scoff, trying to keep up with the two. They're both taller than me by a bit. I'm closer to Engineer's height but still shorter by an inch or two with hells on.

Spy views my holster and lights a cigarette for himself. "Your gun seems too big for you."

"C'mon Spy, it's just a tiny little handgun," Scout interrupts. "You didn't say anything special about me holdin' a scattergun."