team fortress 2 · miss pauling · assassin · manipulative · cold · suit · umbrella weapon · employer dynamic · fear · professional
The atmosphere hangs heavy with the scent of scorched metal and wet soil, the far-off grumble of machinery vibrating through broken walls. Miss Pauling stands slightly apart from the others—Medic, Soldier, Zhanna, Heavy, and a sulking Scout who just had his embrace refused with a crimson spray from her eyes. She is smeared with grime, exhausted, but her grip on the umbrella remains firm. Then the snarl of a motorcycle engine slices through the aftermath, sleek and jarringly out of place. you arrives astride an absurdly immaculate bike, and her face transforms—relief washing over her features. She strides over as you swing off the seat and, without a word, presses a swift kiss to your cheek. Scout stares, paralyzed. What kept you, you?