Author's Note: A bit of an explanation: Meet The Offspring, here on after referred to as MTO, is a TF2 next generation idea of mine that takes place 15 years after TF2 originally takes place, so the year is somewhere between 1983 and 1987 (the year I'm shooting for is 1984). The RED team mercenaries have been called back to the Badlands to hunt for and fight off some unidentified vandals who have been vandalizing Mann Co. property in the area; their kids are along for the ride to temporarily escape problems they've been having at home.

Here are the names I'll be using for the mercenaries and Ms. Pauling in MTO:
Scout - Jeremy*
Soldier - James/Jim
Pyro is just Pyro.
Demoman - Tavish*
Heavy - Mikhail/Misha*
Engineer - Dell*
Medic - Dietrich
Sniper - Lucas/Luke
Spy - Maurice
Ms. Pauling (also referred to as Mrs. Stevens, married to Scout) - Susan

* means I'm pretty sure the name is canon.

The children's names:
Ryan (son of Scout and Ms. Pauling)
Emma (daughter of Scout and Ms. Pauling)
Nelson (son of Soldier and Zhanna)
Kevin (nephew of Pyro)
Audrey (daughter of Demoman)
Nikolai (son of Heavy)
Henry (son of Engineer)
Violet (daughter of Medic)
Mia (daughter of Sniper)
Damien (son of Spy)

In addition, I'd like to take the time to apologize for getting any foreign words, phrases, or accents wrong.

A lone stray dog made his way across the sun-baked New Mexico desert, panting softly. It had been awhile since he'd last eaten; his last meal had been a partially-eaten hamburger, along with a few stale chicken nuggets, dug out of a trash can behind a fast-food restaurant in that small town down the road. A few of the people there had been nice enough to offer him a drink of water, but most of them shooed him away, thinking he might be carrying some terrible disease that could infect the whole town.

People sure were strange.

The dog stopped for a moment to sit down and scratch at a flea bite. The sun was slowly dipping toward the west, signaling the approach of dusk and the gradual decrease in heat that came with it. He would have to find someplace to stay for the night, but shelter was scarce in these parts. Except for a few abandoned man-made structures scattered here and there, there wasn't much to be had, and most of what was available probably had snakes, scorpions, and other nasty creatures hiding in them, waiting to bite or sting any animal or person that disturbed them.

The dog got up to stretch and yawn before continuing on his way when a long, barbed fence several feet ahead caught his eye. Curious, he trotted in the direction of the fence to see if there was anything beyond it. On the other side of the fence there were several vehicles, mostly trucks, parked around a large, Spartan-looking building. If there was one thing the dog had learned in his short life, it was that where there were that many cars parked in one place, humans couldn't be far. And where there were humans, there was bound to be food and water.

After a bit of pacing and searching, the dog found a hole dug under the fence by another animal and squeezed through it. Once he was on the other side of the fence, he eagerly made his way toward the building. As he approached his nose caught whiffs of several interesting smells, some of them being from food. He could also hear a number of human voices, mostly adult male voices but there was also an adult female voice as well as a few children's voices.

That was good; he liked children.

"Mom, he's bugging me!"

"Am not."

"Are too! He keeps touching me and putting his finger in my space."

"I'm not touching you; it's free air, dummy."

"MOM! DAD! Did you hear what he just called me?"

Susan Pauling Stevens sighed in exasperation as she placed her hand against the side of her head. Her two children, Ryan and Emma, had been at each other's throats all through the flight from Boston to Albuquerque, and then through the ride from the airport to the old RED base. Their relentless bickering was wearing her down. Sometimes Ryan was the instigator, sometimes it was Emma; but regardless of who started the fight, once those two started it could go on for hours. And putting them together in the back seat of a car for an hour did not help matters at all.

"Rough day, huh?"

Susan looked up in surprise when she felt her husband's arm around her shoulders. Jeremy, or Scout as he was now used to being called, had been greeting his former teammates as they arrived and chatting with them as he helped them unload boxes of supplies and equipment from their vehicles when he noticed his wife looking tired and annoyed.

"Scout, could you do something about those two? Please? They've been driving me crazy all day."

Jeremy turned his attention to his bickering children; by now, Emma was screaming and howling with rage, and Ryan was laughing at his sister's attempts to hit him. Standing in various places around the base's dusty front yard were the children of the other eight mercenaries. Some of them were leaning against or sitting upon crates of equipment and supplies, looking bored and tired; a few were watching the squabble between Ryan and Emma and trying to muffle their giggles.

"I'll see what I can do, sweets," said Jeremy, flashing a small smile. After Susan smiled back, he left her side and walked over to his son and daughter.

"Hey kids, what's goin' on?" he asked. "Your mom's tired from the trip out here, and your arguing ain't helpin' her at all."

Both children stopped their fight and turned to face their father.

"Ryan's poking his finger into my space," said Emma. "I drew a circle in the dirt around me and told him it was my space, but he keeps putting his finger in it."

"Am not," replied her brother. "I'm just pointing at you; what's so bad about that? Gosh ..."

Jeremy sighed loudly, slapping the palm of his hand against his forehead; sure, he loved his kids and all, but sometimes they could really get under his skin. Ryan, for instance, would often talk back to older kids at school, and sometimes his teachers as well. Emma would often copy her big brother's behavior, and when she lost her temper she would scream at other children and try to hit or kick them if they were bigger than she was. Then later that day there would be phone calls from angry parents or the school principal.

Remembering that he was supposed to be the responsible parent (and that his wife was watching him), Jeremy took a deep breath to regain his composure.

"Now look ..." he began, but was interrupted when a small white dove flew across the yard and fluttered down onto his head, cooing softly. Ryan and Emma immediately forgot their argument and began to giggle.

"Cicero! Get down from zhere, you naughty bird!"

A dark-haired girl about Ryan's age appeared at Jeremy's side. She was sporting a white blouse, a long blue skirt, soft grey boots, a pair of glasses, and a small blue ribbon tied in a bow on the left side of her head. She had two more birds with her, a white dove perched on her shoulder and a grey collared dove strutting around on the ground at her feet.

"I am very sorry, sir," the girl said as she tried to reach for her bird. "Cicero has no manners at all; he just flies und roosts vherever he pleases."

"Hey, it's alright, kid," Jeremy replied. "At least he got my kids to stop fighting." He raised both his hands above his head to grab Cicero, but the dove immediately got the message and fluttered down on to his young owner's waiting arm. He took another look at the girl and snapped his fingers. "Wait a sec; you're the Medic's girl, ain't ya?"

The girl nodded. "I'm Violet."

Jeremy held out his hand for a handshake. "Please to meet ya. Jeremy Stevens, but folks call me Scout. These two over here are my son Ryan and daughter Emma."

"Hey, what's up?" said Ryan, lifting his hand in a friendly wave. Normally, he'd just grunt when introduced to a girl; but since both his parents were near enough to watch him, he decided to be a bit more polite.

Emma, meanwhile, crouched down to get a better look at Violet's doves, all three of whom were now strutting across the ground at their owner's feet, making soft laughing sounds. She was about to reach out and pet one when her mother approached.

"Emma, please get off the ground."

Upon hearing Susan's voice, the girl pulled herself to her feet and turned her attention to Violet.

"I like your birds; they're very pretty."

The older girl smiled in reply. "Danke." Giggling softly at the sight of Emma's puzzled expression, she added, "In Germany, zhat means 'thank you'."

"Oh, right," said Emma. "Mom and Dad said some of these people are from other countries; right, Mom?"

"That's right," her mother replied.

"I remember you said there were also people from Scotland, Russia, Australia, and France," Ryan added.

"True," said his father.

"Wow, we have people here from five different countries besides ours," said Emma excitedly. Turning to look at the kids standing on the other side of the yard, she added, "I hope they're nice."

Jeremy smiled. "I'm sure they will be, toots," he told his daughter. "Your ma and I've known their dads for years, and as I recall, they turned out to be alright once I got to know them."

Across the yard from Scout and his family, a tall, long-legged girl leaned against the side of a small camper van, keeping her gaze on her dusty hiking boot-clad feet. She tucked a wisp of her copper-colored hair behind her right ear and raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. Every once in a while she'd lift her head to get a look at the group of adults and children across the yard, but then she would quickly look away before anyone noticed her.

Mia Grace Mundy didn't mind being alone; in fact, she rather enjoyed it. It gave her mind more space to run free and do its own thing, like an animal that had just been released from its cage. She could shut out the rest of the world and mentally dance away into the silence, free from all her earthly cares, even if only for a moment. There would be no honking car horns, no obnoxiously loud music, no screaming children, no scolding parents, no irritating sounds at all; just an eleven-year-old girl and her wandering imagination.

As she lifted her head to get another look at the rocky structures beyond the surrounding fence, something caught Mia's eye. A medium-sized animal of some kind, probably a dog, had just squeezed through a hole under the fence and was trotting toward her. As it came closer Mia could see it was in fact a dog. He was mostly white, with copper-colored spots all over his body, and had a short fluffy tail, a brownish nose, and heterochromatic eyes, one brown and one blue. He didn't have a collar, but he didn't look very malnourished either, so there was still the possibility that he belonged to someone.

"Where'd you come from, ol' bloke?" the girl asked as she knelt to the ground, bringing herself to the dog's level. "D'ya live around here, or are you just traveling through the area?" The pathetic-looking animal slowly approached her. As she held out her hand for him to sniff, he tilted his head curiously to one side and wagged his tail.

"I guess you're wondering if I have some food with me, ain't ya?" Mia said. "Well, it just so happens I still have half a sandwich in my pack. Let me get it for ya."

As she carefully removed her backpack from her back and set it on the ground, a soft chirping sound came from a small pocket on the right side of the backpack. A small furry animal somewhat resembling a miniature squirrel poked its head out of the pocket and began sniffing the air.

"Looks like I woke Bindi," Mia murmured to herself as she opened her backpack's main storage space and retrieved the promised sandwich. As she held it out to the hungry dog, a man's voice called her name.

"Mia! C'mere an' give us a hand with these bags!"

The girl heaved a sigh of dismay; she recognized that voice, and she knew better than to ignore it. Sensing her imminent departure, the dog rushed forward and snatched the sandwich from her hand.

"Careful there, mate; ya almost bit my fingers off," Mia gently scolded the dog, who was now greedily gobbling up the sandwich. Grabbing her backpack and carefully easing it over her shoulders so as not to disturb Bindi, she added, "I'd better go and see what my dad wants. See you later."

The dog watched as the girl hurried away to catch up with the group of people who were now retreating into the building. By this time the chill of the evening was setting in, and stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. The soft sounds of breezes blowing and crickets chirping filled the air, and somewhere in the distance a coyote called to its brethren. Taking the coyote's howl as a sign that he'd better turn in for the night, the dog stretched his legs and yawned before crawling under the van the girl who gave him the sandwich had been leaning against earlier.

Whimpering softly, he curled himself up into a ball to keep out as much of the cold as possible. He yawned as he remembered the events of his long, tiring day. Just that morning he escaped from a dog pound several miles away and had spent the rest of the day travelling along the dusty desert road, looking for food and water and trying to avoid getting hit by cars. Every once in a while a larger dog would cross his path looking for a fight, but he always managed to escape unharmed due to his smaller size. In the parking lot of a supermarket two small children ran up to him hoping to pet him, but their mother quickly snatched them away fearing he might bite them.

Why mothers thought dogs would bite their children, the dog had no idea. He never did like the idea of hurting people or other animals.

Maybe tomorrow he could get close to that girl again, and maybe some of those other children, too; perhaps they would even persuade their parents to let him stay.

He could only hope.

After yawning one last time, the dog closed his eyes and began drifting off to sleep.