Just a quick one shot of a recruitment process in modern day times (early 2000's). Helen the Administrator and Miss Pauling interview a potential member to the BLU Team who is not what he seems. --------------------------------------------------------------- "Now you listen to me, and you listen to me good, Helen," Blutarch Mann wheezed from his wheelchair. "I don't care where you go or who you find, the new Sniper better not be another damn Australian!" "But Mr. Mann," Helen began, using her rare softer voice when talking to her boss. "Everyone knows that the best Snipers come from Aus-" "Balderdash! Ever since Davy's done kicked the bucket, every single damn Sniper that signed up for the job was one of those dinkum jackaroos from the Outback. I swear if I hear one more man come through that door say mate at the end of his sentence, I'll-" A rushed beeping noise sounded from the life-extending machine and Blutarch's wizened body stiffened in the chair and he started gasping for air. "Mr. Mann, is everything alright?" Helen rushed to the man's side and grabbed a hold of his gnarled hand. "Should I get the nurse?" The beeping subsided and Blutarch seemed to stabilize as he waved the woman away. "I'm fine, Helen, you needn't worry," he coughed, his skeleton-like frame shaking with each one. "Radigan told me even with the machine, I still shouldn't get excited..." His other hand reached shakily over to a side table where a glass of water stood and Helen couldn't help but being reminded of a mummy slowly coming back to life. She knew both Mann Brothers had seen better days, but they were stubborn as mules and twice as ornery when it came to trying to outdo each other, even if their rivalry had lasted almost 125 years. "So, no Australians then?" Helen confirmed. “Damn straight, woman. Look everywhere: every city, every backwoods village, hell even look out in jungles and forests. He doesn’t have to be professionally trained either.†“What if the Sniper is a ‘she’?†Blutarch turned his skull-like visage toward her, his once vibrant blue eyes sunk deep into his eye sockets and whatever left of his hair standing up in sparse wisps. “You know full well my stance on that issue. Women in combat are bad luck on the battlefield and if you think you can change my mind because Redmond has one on his team, then you are sadly mistaken.†Helen gave a slight nod and left Blutarch’s room in the company of a butler, knowing what she had to do.
No Aussie Sniper? but but but.... They're MEANT to be! (I'm still interested though)
(continuing...I hope I got the Muslim dress terms down right) That was two weeks ago, and here she was, standing in front of a mirror in a women’s restroom, adjusting the deep purple hijab over her hair. Curse these foreigners’ customs, she thought to herself as she hid her trademark bouffant under the fabric. It also didn’t help that it was over 90 degrees and the only small comfort was her traditional work uniform covered by a jilbab of heavy fabric the same color as the head scarf. Helen picked up the cloth meant to cover the face, the niqab, and held it in her hands, deciding on whether she needed it or not. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and a smaller shrouded figure poked her head in. “Are you almost ready, Ma’am?†came the slightly muffled voice. Helen turned and frowned at the woman. “Take the face covering off, Miss Pauling,†her regular sharp voice snapped. “You look ridiculous.†The assistant removed her niqab, struggling a bit when the fabric caught on her horn-rimmed glasses. “Agent Anderson is waiting outside, he wonders what is taking you so long,†Miss Pauling stuttered. “We only have an hour scheduled at the prison.†“I know that!†Helen replied. “Just…†She faced the mirror again and narrowed her eyes at her reflection. “Do we really have to wear these sweltering grain sacks outside?†“Unfortunately, yes. Muslim women traditionally cover themselves up to protect their modesty, and it is imperative that we follow suit. The Afghanis are going to be more trustful of us like this.†Helen gave a frustrated sigh and attached the veil to the headscarf, opening the eye slit. “He better be worth our time, Miss Pauling. I don’t think I can survive longer in this god-forsaken country.†She opened the door and walked out, carefully watching her steps so she wouldn’t trip over the cumbersome shroud as the women entered the main lobby of the Mazar-i-Sharif Airport. “So where is this ‘Agent Anderson’?†She asked the assistant, scanning the crowd of milling business men and military people. “Helen Strater, Administrator of Builders League United I presume?†A man of about 35 years of age and dressed in army fatigues approached the women, extending his hand. “I’m Agent Richard Anderson of the Central Intelligence Agency. I welcome you to Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan.†“A pleasure,†Helen replied, shaking the agent’s hand. “I see you have already met my assistant, Miss Pauling.†Miss Pauling shook the agent’s hand as well. “Please, call me Amber,†she smiled. Anderson escorted the women to the front of the building where a van was waiting outside. “I would also like to introduce you to Farid, our driver…†He gestured toward a short, balding man in a plaid shirt and jeans standing next to a taller, thinner man in more traditional Afghan dress. “And this is the translator, Hassan.†Both men nodded hellos in accented English after being presented and Anderson opened up the side door. Once inside, Helen and Amber were allowed to take off the veils, providing them a bit of comfort in the already stifling van.
Interesting
(last update for the night before my brain fries out completely...hope everything goes smooth and drop critiques if you want) The trip to their destination could have went a lot smoother though, speeding through narrow streets and taking turns sharp enough to flip the van over was definitely not the Americans’ cup of coffee. While Helen dug her fingernails into the faux leather seat, she went over her reason for coming to Afghanistan in the first place… After sending out flyers to the various recruitment stations around the world and placing advertisements in printed media, a phone call happened to reach Helen’s office, which she answered personally although it was usually Miss Pauling’s duty. The best way to hire employees in her mind was to talk to potential employees one-on-one so they know who controls them. “Builder’s League United, Helen Strater speaking,†she answered curtly, annoyed by the amount of static crackling through the other end. “I know of…man…†a muffled voice spoke. “Man…you seek…†“Tell me his name and location, or I’m hanging up.†“Sharwaz al-Mujahadeen…a sniper…Osama’s best…†“Where are you calling from?†“Mazari…nistan…phone…bad…apologies.†Helen waved her hand. “I don’t mind for now. Do you have any information on how I can contact this Sharwaz?†There was a brief silence on the other end, then rapid pops like gunfire and muffled voices. Helen looked at the receiver for a few minutes and placed it back on the cradle. She sat at her desk for a few minutes, chin propped up in her hands, and she reached for the phone again. Suddenly, Helen was snapped out of her reverie by Farid slamming on the brakes as an American soldier stepped in front of the van in full armor and M-16 at the ready. Another soldier appeared at the passenger side and began talking to Anderson. “Sir, state your name and purpose here at Qala-i-Jangi,†the soldier demanded. “Agent Richard Anderson, CIA. I’m escorting two women representing the Builder’s League United Corporation. They say their employer has sent them for some confidential matters they wished not to discuss with me at the present time.†The sliding door opened and the soldier beckoned to Helen and Amber. “Please step out of the vehicle, ladies,†he said and both women peeled themselves off the seats. Two more armed soldiers patted them down for weapons while the leader asked them questions. “What business does your company have at Qala-i-Jangi Fortress? Our current information about BLU is that they are a construction firm.†“That is correct,†Helen replied. “My employer, Blutarch Mann, has sent me and my assistant to inspect the damage from the recent uprising. He would like to join the effort of reconstructing the building and others once the war is done.†“Neither I or my superior officers were never sent any information about your arrival,†the soldier stared at the women skeptically. “Do you have the proper credentials?†Helen turned to Amber, who immediately pulled the cover file from her briefcase. The soldier took it in his hands and began to read through all the papers painstakingly created as a front for their actual mission. After the soldier finished, he handed the file back to Amber, his expression still as stone. “Alright,†he said with a gruff tone. “Everything checks out, I’ll notify the higher ups that you’re here. You’re free to go.â€
This is different but I kinda like it. Why keep a terrorist in a prison when you can use them as a mercenary?
ahhhhhhhh...I believe it's time to update The Recruit in T-5 4 3 2 1 0
(A quick side note: Research is a bitch.) The women entered the van again, relieved that their fake alibi was believed and they drove on from the checkpoint. It wasn’t until a few miles (or kilometers or camel paces…she didn’t know what unit of measures Afghanis used) that the fortress came into view, its pale stone walls burning orange in the late afternoon sun. More troops appeared alongside the road to Qala-I-Jangi, standing around their Humvees with watchful eyes as the van slowly puttered down the road. “Here it is, the infamous Qala-I-Jangi Fortress,†Anderson said in awe at the mighty walls rising against the mountains as they drove closer. “The site of one of the bloodiest prison uprisings in history…You picked a good place to fix up.†Another group of soldiers stopped the van again at a makeshift checkpoint, talking to Farid this time. After he was done, Farid turned to his passengers. “I…I am sorry to inform you, but the Americans tell me that I cannot advance further. You must go with them to the entrance.†A soldier came and opened the side door, leading Helen, Amber and Hassan out and to a large Jeep-looking vehicle next to them. The passengers were once again treated to another weapons search and a battery of questions until they were allowed to enter the second vehicle. “I have never been interrogated so many times in one day,†Helen panted as she fanned herself with the sleeve of her cloak in a vain effort to cool down, though the Jeep had an open top. “This war thing here must be serious business.†“Now you know how we feel every day,†Hassan commented dryly, moving away from Helen as she tried to sit down next to him. He then waved his hand towards the prison entrance. “300 men died behind those walls, some of them were my friends. All you care about is one man who did just that, ask questions we didn’t want to answer.†Once everyone was situated, the Jeep drove off into the southern part of the prison, passing by the shelled ruins of stone storage sheds during the uprising. A stack of mortar shells were piled up against one such building much like firewood, serving as a makeshift memorial to those that had died, and it sent a chill up the Americans’ spines as Hassan’s words echoed in their heads.
“Miss Strater, would you like us to stop and have you look at some of this?†Agent Anderson asked from the front seat. “Hmm...What?†Helen asked, startled from her reverie. “You want us to park so you can inspect the damage? The BLU Corporation is joining the reconstruction efforts after the war, yes?†“No…no, keep driving. We are meeting with the warden first before we do that,†Helen murmured breathily. Suddenly, a thin wail pierced the air and the Jeep slowed to a stop. The driver and Agent Anderson got out and went to the back of the Jeep, pulling out a well made, but slightly dusty length of carpet and laid it on the ground facing the west. Hassan opened his door and walked over to the carpet, standing with his hands raised by his shoulders. “Allahuakbar, Allahuhakbar,†the wail echoed plaintively. “Ash-had al-la ilaha illa llah…†Miss Pauling could tell her boss’ confusion as she looked up at the sky, puzzled at where the strange noise was coming from. “It’s the Azan, the Call to Prayer,†she whispered. “It’s sung five times a day by a muezzin, a man who calls the people to pray.†She saw that another carpet was placed next to the one Hassan was at, Agent Anderson and the driver also praying along with him, and she stood on it, trying to copy the prayer ritual. “Get off the ground, Miss Pauling,†Helen hissed when she saw her assistant in the dirt. “It’s unprofessional.†“But ma’am, it’s respectful. I suggest you try it, too.†Helen gave an impatient sigh and went to Miss Pauling’s side, following the movements the best she could: standing, bowing at the knees, standing again, then kneeling on the ground and bowing again. She felt a strange feeling of calm pass through her as she continued the ritual; the most relaxed Helen had ever felt in a long time. Soon, the prayer was over and everyone returned to the Jeep, the driver packing away the prayer rugs until evening prayer. They arrived to the back entrance, heavily guarded by both American and Northern Alliance soldiers armed to the teeth. The women were told to stand behind Hassan and Anderson, who explained their presence to the intimidating men. One of the Afghani soldiers mumbled something into a walkie-talkie and ushered in the group. The atmosphere of the Qala-I-Jangi Fortress was one of hateful tension as jeers and epithets were hurled back and forth in Pashto between the prisoners, most aimed at their captors or other prisoners. They were locked in large cells, about thirty to forty men to a cell, milling about like animals in a zoo. More guards appeared, staying especially close to the women as hundreds of eyes locked on to their shrouded figures, a few men spouting off lewd remarks when they passed by. “Lieutenant Ali Ibn al-Musawi,†a man dressed in a fairly decent military uniform stepped forward and saluted, speaking in Pashto. “I have come to address the Americans, in place of General Dostum.†He then motioned to Hassan and spoke with him quietly, leery of the CIA agent with them. “The lieutenant says that Miss Strater and Miss Pauling must come with him and me,†He told Agent Anderson. “The women will be safe.†Anderson nodded and Hassan guided Helen and Amber to al-Musawi, a very imposing man with a neatly trimmed mustache. “Greetings, Helen,†He said in lightly accented English, taking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you again. How is Saxton?†Helen pulled her hand away from the lieutenant’s. “He’s doing well,†she replied stiffly. “I wish to get on with our business as soon as possible, my time is very precious.†“But of course.†Ali turned to the smaller figure of Amber, currently fumbling with the briefcase in her awkward way. “Who is this?†he demanded. “My assistant, Miss Pauling. She handles the paperwork.†Amber stopped with the briefcase and saluted Ali, a nervous smile appearing on her face under her veil. “Please call me Amber, sir,†she squeaked. Ali gave Amber a look of curiosity. “How cute…†he muttered in a somewhat derisive tone. “Follow me please.â€
One question: If Helen and Pauling are still around, why not the original canon classes? I don't see any of them to be the type to retire or go quietly into the night once they've outlived their usefulness. Also, the control of RED and BLU over the world seem to be a little bit more thorough than what you've depicted so far--I'd actually find it more plausible that they pluck their new Sniper straight out of the Taliban, since with the American government you'd have to worry about things like plausible deniability. (And if they complain about losing their best Sniper, just ship them some more arms. It's not like Mann Co. would be picky about their clients.)
>>10 To answer your questions: Starting with RED and BLU's control, yes, they still have the power over governments, but what I was trying to get at was they work mainly in the shadows, much like a puppeteer. Yes, they could have gone straight to the Taliban to get the sniper, but in order for them to move about the country while under American occupation (RED and BLU are one of the few businesses not supporting the War on Terror in this context, I'll explain more in the next part) Helen had to create the fake documents to gain access to American-held prisons. As for why I chose to keep Helen and Miss Pauling, and not the canon classes: At the time the original classes were around (late 60s as what I have been seeing), Helen was just starting out as the new Administrator after her predecessor 'retired'. The current Miss Pauling is the daughter of the original Miss Pauling (she was a single mother in my canon). Now notice I have the word 'retire' in quotes, by this I mean after their contracts were up, the mercenaries and all other employees involved with the project, their minds were erased...sort of like in Men In Black...whether by choice or force. Basically, they're still around, but don't remember anything. I also employ the use of killzones, areas of the battlegrounds where respawn doesn't reach, so if you're not retired, you can get blown up and just die naturally.
I guess the biggest thing for me is that it feels weird for the TF2 people to be intersecting with "reality" like this. The 'verse itself so far seems to be different from ours (what with Australium and so forth, and all we know about the Nazi's is that they existed and the Soldier went to Europe to beat them up). Kind of ironic that I'm having trouble suspending my disbelief because of all the pains you've taken to keep things grounded in what's actually going right now. If I started reading the story with the Sniper just arriving at the base (maybe brought in at the dark of night by a CIA-type van), I probably would just handwave it as "well, it's TF2 world, who says it can't happen).
>>12 That's a bit of my problem when I write stories: I either add realism to a universe such as Team Fortress or do cross-culturing (i.e. I once wrote a story about a German band, but it was heavily influenced by Celtic mythology). It's just how my brain works I guess...some of it works out good, some of it is very confusing, but in the end I try to make it work out. Also as an edit, I failed to mention how RED and BLU control of the world is more of an influence than total control. Helen and the Mann Brothers do not literally dominate the world as it sounds like people are suggesting, but elect politicians who agree with their views and practices, allow them to do whatever they want through loopholes in the laws, and give them tax breaks and the like. Those are just some of my theories.
It's different but I like it so far. I also love how much thought you put into it. I actually do imagine that some of the merc's would retire sometime. Start a family, or take care of the one they had, do freelance work, etc.