CHAPTER ONE
WHAT'S IN A NAME?
"New shipment comin' in, boys," Engineer called into the depths of the BLU base as he and Sniper pried open the huge wooden crate, freshly delivered, with the words "Builders League United Update" stamped on the side in blue ink.
Almost immediately, a pounding-type sound, almost like a large horde of elephants chasing a peanut truck, sounded overhead. It thundered down the second-floor halls, growing louder and more elephant-like as it went, and stampeded down the cement, blue-painted stairs, rounding corners and thudding against walls clumsily until finally reaching the supply room in which Engineer, Sniper, and the crate waited.
Engineer seemed entirely surprising to find that what had sounded like a very dangerous elephant stampede was actually the rest of BLU team, eager to reach the box and its contents. They gathered around impatiently, shifting their weight from foot to foot, as Engineer and Sniper pulled a number of smaller boxes, still large enough to fit a man, from within the large crate, each stamped on the side in blue letters, spelling out each class' name, one per box.
As each box was dropped with a clomp onto the blue-black cement, it's respective class quickly snatched it up and tore it open, eager as children on Smissmas morning.
It was a spring update, which meant Daisy Shooters, Butterfly Bombs, Wallaby Blinders, and Planetary Snakebite Control, and that was just the beginning. There were hats, too, and assorted skins. Bunny ears, Eggrenades, pastel camouflage, and a new beekeeper skin for Pyro.
Just as the team was calming down, excitedly examining and comparing new weapons, trying on hats and exchanging friendly banter, Engineer dug deep into the crate, extracting the final box, smallest of all. On the side was no class' name, only the letters BLU.
As each class had already received a crated update, he curiously opened it, prying the wooden slats away with a crowbar, as the others had done.
As the final side fell away, the entire team froze, their heads swiveling as one to hone in on the strange new... Thing that had come to rest in their base.
The Thing was not a RED, or a BLU, or a female, or alive. The Thing was, as far as anyone could tell, a massive, double-layer dark chocolate cake with seven cherries and a small white candle on top.
The BLU team mercenaries stared at the confectionery masterpiece with a kind of curious hunger, and time stood still. Sniper was reminded of the time he'd spotted a dingo skirting the circle of light his campfire gave off. He'd thrown it a scrap of meat, as it'd looked starved, and, he recalled, it had stared at that meat in the exact same way his teammates were staring at this cake, now.
Engineer, the ever-cool companion, even in the face of chocolate cake, calmly tore a sheet of paper from its place on one of the slats making up the box's side, where it had been nailed, and read it aloud.
BLU team, congratulations
on your latest victory. Please
accept this cake as a reward.
Sincerely, Admin.
Three seconds of sweet, chocolate-scented silence passed as the team continued to stare at the cake in wonder. No "Admin" had ever rewarded them before.
The thick silence broke, suddenly, as Scout leapt up, making a mad dash for the pure-sugar creation at Engineer's feet.
Scout was fast, but Soldier, who was closer, managed to intercept him.
"Cake! Called it," Scout cried, but Soldier countered him, growling an "Oh, no you don't, sonny!" as he caught Scout around the middle.
Scout squirmed, struggling to free himself, but Soldier tackled the boy, knocking him to the ground.
They hit hard, but Scout, being Scout, recovered quickly. He pushed Soldier away with his feet, keeping out of the older man's reach.
The rest of BLU team, recognizing a good fight, sat back, content to watch. Skirmishes between the two were almost routine in the space between battles.
"No! That cake is mine!" Scout squealed, scurrying to an upright position. But halfway there, Soldier managed to catch the ball chain that Scout's tags hung from, and dragged scout back to the ground, trapping the chain between his hand and the floor.
"You cannot have it! You are on a strict NO SUGAR DIET, maggot!" he yelled. Scout retaliated by baring his teeth and biting the hand that held him down, easily drawing blood.
"I bet you a hat Zoldier vins," Medic muttered to Spy, who sat beside him, but the French gentleman shook his head as Soldier howled in pain.
"Non," he said, "Scout will win this one. Soldier is stronger, but Scout is more determined."
"You're on."
While their teammates bet on the outcome of the fight, Scout and Soldier were still locked in an intense brawl.
Scout, trapped in Soldier's fierce grip, twisted, making pathetic use of his blunt fingernails on the granite floor in an attempt to reach the cake, but Soldier dragged him further still from it. Finally, Scout turned on his aggressor, attempting to push the heavyset man away from him. The chain broke, and Scout was free.
Scout scrambled to his feet, flinging the useless tags to the floor. He and Soldier began to circle each other, never breaking eye contact.
Suddenly, Scout ran from the challenge, faking left, then right, and finally sprinting straight for the cake, which required a rather incredible amount of agility. Soldier followed him, and managed to rip the boy off his feet by catching hold of his waistband and pulling hard. Scout landed with a bang that made a few of his teammates cringe, but he shook it off, managing to act as though nothing had happened.
At last, Soldier managed to detain the boy by smashing his head into the floor, holding it down with one hand while holding Scout's arm behind his back with the other. Scout squirmed, but could not break free this time.
Suddenly, a burst of intense heat very close by startled all of the assembled classes, and Scout finally managed to slip from Soldier's strong hold, just in time to see Pyro step away from the once-beautiful chocolatey treat, now reduced to little more than a lump of smoking charcoal. The team watched in a startled silence as Pyro inspected the charred lump of ash, nodded in a self-satisfied way, and slung his flamethrower casually over his shoulder.
"...!" Heavy made a sound like a kicked puppy in protest, but did not seem to be capable of forming words, while Scout squeaked similarly, like a rubber ball underfoot. Understanding his protest, despite the lack of speech, Pyro removed his thick mask, pushing his auburn hair out of his face.
His dark, stormy grey eyes surveyed the room's inhabitants, their shocked expressions. Scout, in particular, looked close to tears.
"Oh, come on, you guys," he said, his strange accent, Alaskan in origin, sounding alien to the others after so long of not hearing it. He was usually the strong, silent type. "Doesn't it seem suspicious? A cake? For us? Everyone knows she likes RED team better."
"But-but maybe it wasn't even from that old hag!" Scout protested, delicately touching the white waxen puddle that had once been a candle.
"All the more reason," Pyro said, stepping gingerly over Scout on his way back to his update crate.
Scout collapsed backwards, splaying his arms and legs in exhaustion, all the fight drained from him, as BLU team's chatter slowly returned. He allowed himself a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes, preparing to sleep until their next battle. He didn't see Spy's lithe, gloved fingers curl around his dogtags and the ball chain they hung from, still lying on the floor a few feet away.
"Scout..." he said slowly, upon reading the information the tags held.
Each class, RED and BLU, carried a set of two dogtags on a chain. The tags were each labeled with a name, first and last, class, serial number, and team, both color and number. The tags that Spy held read:
Julian Buchanan
Scout
344676552
RED 11
"Scout," he said again. "What is the meaning of this? The name on these is Julian, but isn't your name Michael?" He examined them a moment longer, then said, still slowly, "Scout... why are you wearing the tags of a RED Scout?"
A few of the other BLUs gasped or looked around, and Scout cringed, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he covered his face with both hands.
"Shit," he moaned. "Here it comes..."
Before the word "spycheck" had even formed in Demoman's mouth, Pyro had leapt back into action, gleefully dousing Scout with flames as easily as he'd burnt the cake. But the fire, while hot, had no effect, and Scout continued to lie there, dramatically sighing as Pyro attempted to turn him into toast.
When at last the hydrophobic man was satisfied that his friend was indeed a BLU Scout, as he appeared to be, he stepped back, his face a reflection of the troubled confusion the rest of the team felt.
"So... care to explain?" Sniper asked after a long moment, arms folded sternly, head cocked questioningly to the side.
"No, not really," Scout replied after a moment of thought. He climbed to his feet, dusted off a shoulder nonchalantly, and snatched the silver tags from Spy's hand as he headed for the door.