(Hi guys! Robotiger here. I'm new here. Well, we're new here. I'm Alex, she's Kara. We both love Team Fortress 2. Maybe even more than love, if there's even a word for that. Anyways, this website is freaking complicated, so if I mess up when uploading stuff, please don't get irritated with me. It's freaking confusing. So on another note, this fic, titled "Dog", is a totally impromptu TF2 fanfic that Kara and I started texting each other one day for fun, until it eventually became a 21.5K-word, in-depth story. Everything is totally improvised, and when one of us texted a section of the story, it was as new to the other person as it is to you, our reader. We had to come up with dialogue and plot right on the spot; we never discussed future plans for the characters or the storyline. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it!)
Dog
A dry wind whirled through the gorge. The sun beat down on the sandy ground and singed the face of the young boy from Boston.
Perched in a crouching position in the shade of a mine cart, his sweat practically steamed off him as he wiped a bit of blood off his high forehead.
He had been out here for days patrolling the border, with hardly a glance of any of his fellow mercenaries. He was exhausted, bruised, and nearly melted.
His stomach growled loudly and he grunted through his teeth, tightening his brow and banging he back of his head against the burning-hot mine cart.
Off in the distance he heard the small clink of metal against metal. Probably an Engineer working on machinery. He was unsure whether or not this unknown noise was coming from a RED or a BLU, but it was nice to hear the sound of people.
He sluggishly rolled his head to the side in order to peer past the edge of the cart.
Red.
The engineer was clad in red; not only that, but the Texan was building up a sentry- a Scout's number one enemy. A death machine.
Scout's legs and arms went through a tiny spasm of nervousness. Eyelids agape, he swiftly rolled his head back to be completely hidden by the cart. He'd been out here too long to be killed instantaneously.
Fingering the microphone on the end of the wireless headset attached to his cap, he clicked the earpiece and tried to get a connection to his team's base.
"Ay- ay guys, the'e's an engineeh over 'ere," he whispered into the microphone. Only white noise buzzed in the earpiece that he held against his face; a few broken words from Medic were the only things he could hear, and he could hardly even understand them. It was useless.
Now what was he supposed to do? No connection to base meant no help, and he couldn't just run out into the range of the sentry. He hoped maybe Sniper was up in the perch above the base so that maybe he might notice the Scout's predicament. Scout wasn't sure whether Sniper's gun could shoot far enough with no clear shot. He clicked back on the microphone in one last attempt to contact his allies.
"'Ey. Anyone 'ear me? Come on, one a' ya gotta be able to!" He whispered harshly.
No reply. He was on his own now.
Sliding his hat and headset underneath the mine cart, he glanced back at the engineer one last time. The man was hunched over his machinery, tracing blueprints with one hand and wrenching in a screw with the other.
Scout rolled to his left, scuffling on the dirty ground and pulling himself up into a position fit to run while crouching. He slid the thin pistol, complete with only three remaining bullets, out of the elastic of his baseball shorts and slid it between his bare fingers.
Dashing silently forward, Scout ambled into the wooden house containing a Blu control point. He shuffled towards the open doorway, peeking his nose around the edge and double-checking for any other Red mercs that could be lurking in the area.
Reassured that he and the engineer were the only mercenaries in sight, he took a deep breath and leaned farther past the edge of the door, tightening his grip on the pistol.
Four days without food, standing mere meters away from his well-armed opponent.
His belly roared in a moment of desperate famine.
The engineer looked up.
"Shit."