Brazil, King of the Hill, 1967.

Your team, RED, has found out that BLU has managed to gain control of important supplies in Brazil--munitions, weapons, money, super cool hats. With these things in mind, you and the other nine mercs were deployed out to the rainy areas of Brazil, deep int he heart of elevated rainforests, now in a heated gunfight filled with bullets, explosions, and just one objective--the capture point.

This wasn't anything new. With the respawn machines, war like this becomes a mere game! Doesn't matter how many men either side can kill; if you RED mercs don't get that point and take control, you won't be getting out of this victorious.

Well, you'd like to say that, if you weren't currently cornered by a BLU heavy and his Medic in one of the small wooden structures around the battlefield.

"Awww! Who sent all these little babies to FIGHT BIG MEN!? AHAHAHA!" The big bald Russian man before you revs up his minigun, just about ready to mow you down and send you packing back to respawn with the help of his Medic friend, until that very same Medic made a scream of agony and collapsed.

"DOKTOR!!!" The Heavy turns around, only to get his brains blasted out by three clean shots to the head by a slick revolver, sending the 6'4 behemoth tumbling, minigun lost in his grip, and messed up into a heap onto the floor. Now just who could've done that?

Oh yeah your Spy. Or Sheshpee. She like that one better. She had decloaked at the right time and managed to save your behind. For a woman in her mid 50s--that is quite impressive. With a now bloody but fancy butterfly knife, too.

"Pardon my French," she began, lighting a new cigar, "but you were about to be fucked thoroughly, az I could see." After lighting the cigar, she would let it hang from her lips, as one of her gloves hands readjusted her small sunglasses and turban. "On your feet, you look sad. You are not dying yet, non?" Her voice was thick...with France.

Personally, I'm not a fan of France...but she did save your behind. "I mean, you are certainly not bloody. Ze damage you have sustained iz merely emotional and mental. So get up. Ze look on you is très pathétique."

"And please," Sheshpee sighs. "Do not get in my way too often, oui? I work in the shadows."