Chapter Text
Out of all the different locations you’ve ended up and “set up shop” in so to speak, the Badlands of New Mexico was certainly…a place one could feasibly do business in, despite everything.
You weren’t complaining— you didn’t have much room to complain anyways considering how you got here in the first place: with nothing but two suitcases, the clothes on your back, cash and the all too familiar lust for something new and exciting to enter your life. Oh— and maps. Lots and lots of local maps you’d snatch up at gas stations and bus stops whenever possible so that you wouldn’t be completely stranded and lost with no sense of where to turn next. It really was a miracle that you managed to find a suitable place to settle down in at all. If it took any longer to find proper civilization, you might’ve just cut your losses and started heading up towards Colorado, that’s how bad it was.
This wasn’t the first time you up and left wherever you were previously living, believing that life was growing far too predictable and stale— far from it. And every time you did it, the people around you would act shocked. Even when you would take the time and try explaining it to them, they never completely understood. Here you were, with a roof over your head, a shockingly well-paying job and you’re…bored? Some called you far too privileged and free for your own good, while others didn’t bother mincing words and simply called you idiotic or screwy. Out of all the different descriptors, you suppose “privileged” would apply to you the most, because in a way, yes, you were. You were privileged enough to constantly find work for yourself, make enough money to get by every day and enough to keep tucked away for when the urge to run away could no longer be ignored. Most people could only dream of being that comfortable with their money and willing to spend it chasing whatever they thought would bring them joy and excitement.
And what exactly were these well-paying jobs? Well…sex work.
The old adage of sex selling continued to be proven time and again in every town you rolled into. In just a matter of a few weeks or months, you’d establish yourself in the local whorehouse, strip club or well-lit street corner as someone to turn to for some guaranteed fun. This wouldn’t involve stepping on the toes of the local ladies already working there, however. At least not on purpose. You may be assertive with getting your foot in the door, but you were self-aware enough to know that a new face often meant competition. More than anything, you wish you could say you never had any problems with the other sex workers and even became close friends with them. Sometimes that would be the case (to the point where a few of them were actually saddened by your decision to leave town), but other times…let’s just say it was no skin off their nose to watch you go. You never took it personally, understanding that yeah, more ladies in one location did mean more competition in a way. If a man paid for the company of one woman, it meant that money wasn’t going to you and vice versa. Friendship was the last thing you expected to find in your line of work, but every so often you’d be pleasantly surprised by your co-workers taking time out of their hectic day to check in with you.
When your fellow sex workers back in Texas found out that you were ready to move on and find your next home someplace else, it had gotten pretty emotional. You couldn’t count the number of times you had to explain that it had nothing to do with them and instead had everything to do with you. One of them had even joked that it sounded as if you were breaking up with them, which did help to make you and the others laugh. It took you promising to send them letters for them to calm down and not physically stop you from packing your bags up. And that wasn’t just a lie you told to make the process easier; about once a month, you’d sit down and write a handful of letters addressed to past co-workers, letting them know how your travels were going, the crazy shit you’ve seen and wishing them only the very best. Some sent letters back, others didn’t— though you suspected that was due to them sadly getting lost in the mail or collecting dust somewhere thanks to your constantly changing address. The Texan gals waved you off once you stepped onto the morning bus and you waved them and Texas goodbye.
If someone had told you that you’d been in every state at least once, you’d probably believe them. New Mexico wasn’t all too foreign to you, but this particular section of it certainly was. Aesthetically speaking, it didn’t appear all that different when compared to the rest of the state: vast deserts, high standing rocky mountains, tall hoodoos and instances of impressive balancing rocks. No, what caught your attention were all the non natural features you spotted in the appropriately named Badlands. Despite how mostly barren it was, the landmarks you would come across were…interesting. You had seen a sign urging anyone passing through to visit the Alamo and just as you were in the middle of thinking “wait, isn’t the Alamo in—?”, you suddenly remembered reading something a few years ago announcing how the fourth (or was it the sixth) richest man in America won the rights to the Alamo in a poker game of all things. The things millionaires did with their money…it said a lot that this wasn’t even the most absurd example of rich people doing literally whatever they wanted because they had the money to do it that you could think of. Alongside the relocated monument, you also spotted a sports stadium proudly representing a local team called the Badwater Brawlers, an Eye Museum, ads for a renaissance festival hosted in a place named DeGroot Keep and many shops with Mann Co. or Saxton Hale branding. Right! That’s the guy who won the Alamo: Saxton Hale! He was some big shot Australian and, despite his over the top rugged persona, was actually the CEO of Mann Co. You didn’t keep tabs on these sorts of things, but the company’s presence wasn’t exactly easy to ignore. No matter what city you were living in, it felt like you saw his face or brand at least once a day and now that you were in the Badlands, you were somehow seeing him more than ever.
With the sun starting to set lower and lower in the sky, you knew you couldn’t stay on the bus forever and thankfully, the last stop looked to be at a town…sort of. Through the bright orange hues shining across the desert, acting as one last hurrah for the descending sun, you could see a sign that read “New Teufort” and underneath that, in small text that required you to squint, said “an unofficial extension of Teufort”. To be honest, you had no idea what that meant and frankly, you were too tired to try understanding it. Using the rest of your energy, you dragged yourself and your suitcases through the dirt and towards what you hoped with all your heart was a motel. Your prayers were answered and as soon as you walked into your room for the night and locked the door, you were out like a light.
As soon as you woke up the next morning, you made it your mission to learn more about this strange town. Since your mind and eyes were no longer clouded with exhaustion, it clicked just what a small and quaint place New Teufort was. It seemed unfinished, but still somewhat established at the same time, like it didn’t seem too out of place. Chatting around with the locals proved to be useful, though they were a bit wary of you at first since you were an unfamiliar face in the middle of a no doubt tight knit community. You eventually learned that the original and still active town of Teufort could be found a mere thirty minute drive away— “close, but not too close” as one resident put it, which struck you as odd for a place boasting to be an extension of an already existing town. Why wouldn’t they want to be “too close” to it? Well, as it turned out, they had a good reason for wanting to keep a safe distance: Teufort’s water supply had been utterly contaminated and poisoned for what sounded like years and while most of the residents were content with that, others weren’t as willing to continue living that way. This project of theirs began just a few years ago and you had to admit it was impressive given the short time frame. And along with all the important buildings every good town should have, you couldn’t help but notice the one that had a few salacious posters nailed to the exterior.
You didn’t know what to expect when you were hired on the spot after just fifteen minutes of chatting with the whorehouse owner regarding your interest in the position. It certainly felt like the smallest one you had worked at in a very long time, your inclusion now bringing the number of ladies to seven. The owner was clearly desperate for more employees, but just how much traction could a small offshoot of an already small town get?
Oh boy…
So it turned out Teufort didn’t have a whorehouse of their own (or had even heard of one before this one was built), so to say they were curious would be the understatement of the century. Over the span of a few weeks, you’ve quickly gathered a small group of regulars that would visit what felt like every day. Either they truly had nothing else better to do or they were completely starved for sex. Or both. On top of how frequently they would stop by, they were quite the characters. One man, despite claiming to have been born and raised in New Mexico, inexplicably had a comically over the top Italian accent that admittedly made climaxing a bit more of a challenge for you. An older gentleman mentioned offhandedly that he was a teacher and since school was canceled for six years due to all the textbooks being burned, he had plenty of free time. And the many men that said they worked at the railroads eventually lead you to the answer of why you were seeing more and more Mann Co. branded products here than anywhere else: the company’s headquarters were located right there in the Badlands. Such an interesting location rich with quirks and intrigue demanded your full attention.
That’s what you told yourself when weeks turned into months. Time really did fly when you were having fun.
You were returning to the whorehouse one afternoon after mailing out your monthly letters and as soon as you walked through the doors, you heard the now familiar sound of your boss snapping his fingers for you to look his way. If any other man tried pulling a stunt like that on you, you wouldn’t think twice to break his fingers. The only reason why you tolerated it from your new boss is because you knew he carried no ill will or condescension behind the act. It was apparently something he did for everyone when wanting their attention, even his own family.
Walking up to him, you watched as he finished scribbling his signature on a messy stack of paperwork and replaced his pen for a cigar. He stuck it between his teeth as he shifted his attention to you.
“That's the last of your mail?” he asked, making sure you didn’t have more letters waiting in your room.
You confirmed with a nod and a verbal “Yup!”
“Good. While you were out, a— uh—” pausing, he fiddled with his lighter as well as with his words, seemingly looking for the right way to phrase the rest of his sentence. “A lady requested to see ya. Was real’ specific about it being you and not one of the other gals.”
Despite the hesitation in his voice, he didn’t sound disgusted, just…confused more than anything else. The business never saw any women visiting other than the occasional fuming wife looking for their soon to be ex-husband, so to have one show up out of the blue as a paying customer…it obviously threw your boss for a loop. It might’ve been peculiar to him, but not to you. Sure, the large majority of those you’ve provided company for over the years had been men, but you’ve had your fair share of female clientele. This would be just another job for you to do.
“Oh?” a small head tilt accompanied your playfully curious tone as you glanced around. No woman to be seen down here.
He finally got his lighter to spark to life and wasted no time bringing the flame up to his cigar. “Yeah. I gave her directions to your room, so she should still be there. She also paid up front and…” he took a drag and exhaled, which turned into a chuckle. “When I checked the stack of cash she gave me, I found an extra fifty bucks in it. I was gonna mention it to her, but by the time I realized it, she was long gone. Guess that means I can keep it, right?”
That makes you chuckle and shake your head as well. “No way! It’s obvious she didn’t realize how much she gave you! You had better give it back on her way out.”
Your demand is met with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If she brings it up, I will. Now go on, she’s waitin’ for ya!”
Only after you dramatically roll your eyes do you listen to him and head for the stairs.
As expected, your door was shut. Clearing your throat, you take a moment to look down at yourself and make sure you were presentable. Due to the sweltering New Mexico weather, your wardrobe consisted mainly of shorts, mini skirts and tank tops— which were all very cute, you might add. It certainly turned quite a few heads and you were hoping to turn the head of the woman waiting for you inside. Once you adjusted the straps of your top and fixed your jean shorts, you finally opened the door.
Standing in the middle of your room was a rather cute looking young woman dressed in purple. She turned to face you when the creaky door signaled your arrival, revealing the pair of glasses perched near the tip of her nose and her neatly styled bangs that complemented her equally neat bun. You were surprised to see that she didn’t come empty handed as she held a stack of folders brimming with papers close to her chest and apart from the brief glance up and down your body, she carried herself in an extremely professional manner— like that of someone on their way to an immensely important business meeting or interview. Even as a flirty smile graced your lips, her own expression and posture stayed stoic and formal. You could already tell she’d be fun to make blush. Shutting the door behind you, it’s time to get to work.
“Hey there.” it was easy for you to slip into a more sultry tone as you walked further into your room. “I was told you…specifically asked for me?”
“That is correct, yes.” she answered with a brisk nod. Tucking all her folders in one of her elbows, she extends her now free hand to you. “My name is Miss Pauling. Pleasure to meet you.”
You couldn’t recall the last time one of these encounters started with a handshake, but you saw no reason not to play along. She had a strong grip that already had you considering the possibilities and you made sure to purposefully drag your fingers across her knuckles as you pulled away. Still no blush, but you do notice her blink in slight surprise.
“The pleasure is all mine.” even after the handshake ended, you still linger close to her, narrowing your eyes in mock suspicion as you smile. “And I normally would introduce myself as well, but it sounds like you already know who I am.”
“Correct again.” Miss Pauling confirms with an awkward laugh as she pushes her glasses up.
Mistaking her awkward personality for nerves regarding the service she just paid for, you decided to give her a bit of space as you instead waltzed over to your dresser, ready to pull out any toys or lingerie if need be.
“Awww, don’t worry. I think it’s really sweet— like having a secret admirer or something. I hope you weren’t too nervous to stop by sooner. I know that going to places like this is seen as a man only activity and I’m sure most of the ladies here wouldn’t be as comfortable doing business with another woman, but trust me…I am very comfortable with it. I’ll take good care of you.”
Before you could even ask how she might want to start things, the cogs visibly began to turn in her head as her eyes slowly grew wide and, much to your delight, her cheeks burned red.
“Oh, that— that’s not— my apologies, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not here for… that . Well— at least…not for me . Um—” she pushed her glasses up again. “Could we maybe sit down for this?”
No one would have blamed you if this was the point where you stopped playing along— if instead of pulling out the chair from your wooden vanity desk for Miss Pauling to sit in, you asked her whether she was here to fuck or not and if she said the former, then she could leave. Would it be rude? Probably, but this was starting to look like something not in your job description. Even so, you sat down on your bed, ready to hear what she had to say, curious as to what this could be about more than anything else.
By this point, Miss Pauling’s cheeks returned to their normal color as she rested the folders in her lap.
“So…you’ve only recently moved to New Teufort, right?”
“Correct.” you smile, using the same word she’s been using to confirm your previous questions. “I’ve been here for almost three months now.”
“And you’ve already been leaving quite the impression, it seems.”
“I have?”
“Sure have. This— ah— establishment has obviously been around before you showed up and residents both here and in Teufort have visited it and enjoyed their services, but when asking around, your name consistently came up. And they only had good things to say about you and what you provided for them. Must be pretty skilled, huh?”
She learned of you after…asking the townsfolk about the local whorehouse?
“In fact— you’re new to the Badlands and New Mexico in general, right?”
“Um…yeah, that’s right.” the coyness wasn’t as present in your voice as it was before. “I moved here from Texas.”
“And before that, you were in Louisiana and before that , you were in Arkansas and—”
“Wait, how did you know that?” and okay, yup, fully out of your sexy persona now. What the hell is going on?
“We always look into people of interest and their backgrounds before speaking with them. Yours was a bit tricky to follow before we found a good bread trail of the places you’ve worked at.”
What could you even say to that? In a matter of mere minutes you were left speechless. What did she mean by “we”?
Miss Pauling seemed to notice this. “Um…sorry, that’s my bad. If you can believe it, I had a whole thing planned out where I explained this all more gradually and tactfully. You flirting with me kinda derailed my train of thought.”
“...Should I be sorry or flattered?”
“Probably flattered since that would just be more evidence for how good you are at your job.” oh wow, she actually gave an answer. “Anyways— let me just start from the beginning. I work for TF Industries. You’ve probably heard of one of our divisions, Mann Co. We specialize in everything from weapons to personal security. Most of the details…do not concern you, no offense, as they more so concern the workers handling the products. However, we have recently started working on a new program that would concern you and is the whole reason why I’m here in the first place. We are offering you a position at one of our subsidiaries, Reliable Excavation Demolition, as a provider of sexual and general stress relief for our employees there. Due to the regulations of their job requiring them to live on site and work full time, they are not able to leave often and interact with the outside world, which can result in built up stress and tension that we believe is negatively impacting the quality of their work. Not only are we offering you a job position, but also on site accommodations, such as living quarters and general benefits like insurance. Accepting the position would require you to quit your job here and relocate to RED as you would in turn work completely for us.”
Even as she stopped talking and looked expectantly at you, you were still processing the barrage of information thrown at you all at once. The first thing that stuck out to you was the fact that they were looking into your past and previous jobs. It’s not like you were trying to be sneaky and leave no trace of you behind, but it still kinda freaked you out. You knew Mann Co. was a huge company, but to learn that it was simply a branch of an even bigger corporation and THAT corporation had been looking into you? When thinking of the job itself…it sounded intimidating as all hell. Providing sexual relief for a whole group of employees? Would it be reasonable to ask just how many there would be? Would there be other sex workers there or would you be the only one? So many questions and before you could think of anymore, you eventually ask one of them.
“Why…me specifically? I mean— assuming I’m the only one you guys are coming to with this job.”
“Due to this program still being in the early stages, yes, it is just you. My boss considers it bad practice to hire an entire team of new employees with separate paychecks before we even know if this program is going to work in the first place. No use in wasting money. If things go well, we might hire others. But to answer your first question— during our research on you, we weren’t only hearing good things here in Teufort and New Teufort; we were hearing good things everywhere . So many of your previous employers spoke at lengths at how much traffic you brought to their clubs and…er…whorehouses and how many one-on-one customers you had. Even when you would leave and go somewhere else— it wouldn’t be due to being fired since I think your bosses would mention it if they fired you. So you clearly have an impressive resume. I must ask why the constant moving around though.”
You saw no reason to lie. “I can promise you it’s nothing personal against the people I worked for or with. A classic case of it’s not them, it’s me. I just…no matter where I am, I can never feel fully satisfied. I enjoy what I do and I love sex, it’s more so the general sense of excitement— or lack thereof, I guess. I’ll get this rush of adrenaline while on my way to some new place and another rush when I finally find the right place and meet a whole bunch of new people. It’ll continue to feel exciting, but the thrill just…fades away and everything grows samey and repetitive and every day just feels like the last.”
Miss Pauling nods along, taking everything you say into account before raising her brows and looking down at her folders with an exhale. “Well…if it’s excitement you’re looking for— I can assure you, there is LOTS of excitement to be had here…to put it mildly.” she practically whispered that last part.
Her promise makes you chuckle a bit. “Okay, okay. I’m getting a little more interested.” biting your lip, you think back to the employees she mentioned. “So…how many employees are we talkin’ here?”
“Nine.” and that’s all she says without further elaboration.
Nine…not that many in the grand scheme of things, but you’re just one woman. Oh man, your mind is already starting to go wild with the possibilities, but no no— you can’t get ahead of yourself.
“May I…perhaps learn a bit more about them?”
Miss Pauling’s expression twisted into a cringe. “Unfortunately, I cannot give out details like that to someone not working for us. You would have to accept the position first.”
Touché.
You sigh, leaning back a bit in your head, as you look up at the ceiling of your room, pondering the offer.
“Wow…this really is a lot, Miss Pauling. When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t expecting to be presented with such a job opportunity. It certainly sounds like quite the commitment, but if it’s as interesting as you’ve made it sound…maybe it’ll be enough to hold me down.” you smile a bit mischievously when you say the last part.
Unlike when you flirted with her at the start of this whole interaction, she doesn’t react much, but you swear you noticed a small twitch at the left corner of her lips as she stared at you.
“The position pays $2,000 a month.” said so candidly, like she didn’t drop the biggest bombshell right on your head without warning.
You sat up so quickly, it’s a miracle you didn’t end up falling off your bed with how much force you put into the action. With wide eyes and mouth agape, you stare back at her in disbelief.
“Wh—?! Are you serious?! Why the hell didn’t you start out with that?!”
She shrugged, pushing her glasses up. “I was hoping I’d be able to convince you without mentioning it. But if it’s not exciting enough for you, then money is—”
“If you’re about to say ‘money is no object’, that’s a damn lie. Money absolutely is an object. And don’t think I forgot what you said about insurance. Where do I sign up?”
Her lips curled into a small smile as she opened up one of the folders and pulled out a stack of papers held together with a single staple.
Was it a bad idea to sign all those papers without speaking with a lawyer? Most definitely. Did you find it suspicious how Miss Pauling covered specific parts of the paperwork with her hand when she flipped to different sections? Absolutely. But were you about to say no to $2,000 a month? Hell no! The men you were hired to fuck could be ugly as sin, but good money was good money.
But speaking of the men— only after you signed what felt like twenty different papers did she tuck them away, pull out a different folder with the label “RED TEAM” printed on it and present it to you. Oh man…why were you actually getting nervous now? Taking a deep breath, you took the folder from her and after a moment, you finally opened it up and pulled out the nine papers.
Before you even looked at the picture on the first page, you immediately noticed how nearly every piece of information was blacked out and redacted. Most of the stuff must not relate to the position— or…should you say your position now.
Nevertheless, you look at the headshot of client one of nine and right away, you could tell this one would be trouble…in a good way. He looked quite young to be in a career that sounded so drastic and permanent and his baseball cap and boastful smile only added to his youthful appearance. His “class name” (whatever that meant) was “Scout”, but you could see that his real name was Jeremy. In the more full body picture of him, he looked like a skinny thing, but something about his legs screamed athleticism. The class name suggested that he might move around a lot, so that would explain his toned legs.
“Cute.” you commented out loud.
Miss Pauling glanced at the paper and sighed. “Scout is…well…he’s a lot.” spoken like someone who has no doubt spent hours upon hours with him.
“That’s okay…I can handle a lot.” ba dum tss!
Not wanting to spend too much time on a single client, you moved onto the next one. While Scout had an immature aura about him, the second man, “Soldier”, had an extremely tense and serious energy radiating from his pictures. The fact that his helmet completely covered his eyes made him appear more intense, the only part of his face visible being his strong, masculine jaw and chin, his lips curled into a deep frown. He certainly had the posture of a soldier, back completely straight, arms flat by his sides and looking right at the camera. It made learning that his real name was Jane Doe hit like a ton of bricks.
“He looks like someone who could benefit from some relief.” a small joke as you move onto the next page.
The next one…admittedly caught you off guard. An individual with a gas mask that completely covered their head and— actually, their entire body was covered. And while on the other sheets, the men had their sexes labeled as M for male, this one had that section completely blanked out. The only line of text that wasn’t blacked out was, of course, the class name: “Pyro.” A fitting name. When you looked up at Miss Pauling, searching for answers of some kind, she merely shook her head.
Onto contestant number four! And woah! Talk about hunky! You actually felt yourself blush a bit looking at the handsome black man staring back— with one eye, mind you, but that’s still a stare in your books. Even his name sounded dashing: Tavish Finnegan DeGroot (hm…haven’t you seen that last name somewhere before?). But you recognized it was a mouthful, so you imagine most people went with his class name: “Demoman.” You also found it interesting that he came from Scotland, unlike Scout and Soldier who were born in the USA and wondered if they had any other non-American employees.
Your question would immediately be answered once you flipped to the next page. Since your eyes were still trained on the location of origin section, the first thing you read was “USSR”. Glancing to the left, your eyes widened— half in terror and…honestly, half in arousal. He was huge! He just had to be the biggest guy on the team because if he wasn’t, you’d be absolutely fucked. You could even tell from the background that the camera had to be moved back in order to capture all of him in frame. The mental image of him towering over you forced its way into your head and refused to go away. Every part of him looked strong and with the capability to do some real damage if need be. You had to give this company some credit, because yeah, “Heavy” was the perfect name for a man like him. That being said, you quite liked his real name, Mikhail, too.
“Damn…” you muttered under your breath. It seemed as if Miss Pauling had decided to keep any more comments to herself for now as you familiarize yourself with your new clients.
About halfway through the list now…and you’ve been liking what you’ve been seeing so far. That feeling continued as you next learned about Dell Conagher, the “Engineer” of the group. Clad in a hard hat and goggles, you could easily picture him busy working on all sorts of gadgets and devices, laser focused, getting his hands dirty, wiping oil and sweat from his brow and— okay, now you’re just openly fantasizing at this point, but who could blame you? His easygoing smile paired with his Texan origins already had you crossing your fingers that he’d be a Southern gentleman. Might be a fun one to try to fluster and make all red.
You felt a chill run up and down your spine at the sight of the seventh man. While the others had either small closed mouth smiles or neutral expressions that leaned more towards frowns, Mr. Ludwig…wore a large toothy grin that stretched across his face. His bespectacled wide eyes and arched brows somehow made the German man look even more manic. Despite his somewhat frightening appearance, he still looked…strangely attractive. You’d expect a “Medic” or general man of science like him to appear not all that big or muscular, but you suppose that’s on you for making assumptions because that did not seem to be the case at all. His lab coat wasn’t exactly form fitting, yet you could still tell he had broad shoulders and a wide chest and damn, did he have a strong jaw and chin as well. He also appeared to be on the older side, with his graying hair and crow’s feet by his eyes.
You flipped to the second to last page and looked at the pictures with curiosity. The lanky man had half of his face covered thanks to his heavily tinted sunglasses and slouched hat. His deep frown and five o’clock shadow added to his intimidating and mysterious look. In the full body picture, it turns out his hat wasn’t the only thing that slouched. A small smile crept onto your lips when you saw him slightly hunched over awkwardly, as if trying to hide just how tall he was. You honestly found it kinda cute. He looked like a hunter or something, which made sense after you read “Sniper” at the top of the paper. As for where he came from, though it said he’s Australian, you couldn’t help but notice how it said that next to a random blacked out section. After you bid adieu to the mysterious Mr. Mundy, you reach the final man.
Okay, maybe Sniper wasn’t as mysterious as you previously thought— at least when compared to this last man, “Spy”. Much like Pyro, nearly every bit of information was redacted. At least you were able to see his face…well, some of it. His balaclava mask left only his eyes and mouth exposed to the world and sure, it wasn’t a lot, buuuut…he did look extremely sophisticated in his pinstripe suit and you did find the secrecy surrounding him alluring. A lit cigarette dangled from his thin lips as he stared into the camera, head slightly tilted back as if literally and figuratively looking down at you. Hopefully he wasn’t as pompous as you were beginning to assume he was…though you noticed he was from France, so the odds weren’t in your favor.
It honestly felt like you just came back from a long journey by the time you cycled back to Scout’s sheet. Clearing your throat, you casually placed everything back into the folder and returned it to Miss Pauling. Giving you a quiet “thank you”, she got up from her seat.
“My boss will be very pleased to hear that you decided to accept our offer. I have no doubt that you will establish yourself as an important asset to the company— and to the team.”
Standing up as well, the two of you share another handshake.
“I’m gonna be honest…” you let out a small chuckle. “It’s still sinking in just how crazy this all is.”
She doesn’t address how insane this all was as she looks back down at the papers. “It’ll take a few days to have things ready for you and my schedule is packed, but in a week, I’ll return to pick you up and transport you to the base. Sounds good?”
“I’d say so, yeah.” letting some of your nerves slip out.
A half smile tugs at her lips as she turns to leave. “If you’re as good as we’ve heard you are, you’ll have nothing to worry about. Our mercenaries may be dangerous killers, but they know better than to damage company property.” And just like that, she walks right out of your room and makes sure to close the door behind her.
That was nice of her to do.
…
Wait— did she just say “mercenaries”?