"And since Scout is being a total telegraphing turd today," said Soldier to the rest of the team in the respawn room, "he should be guarding the intelligence."

"What!" yelped Heavy, who is not usually a yelper.

Demoman groaned. "You're kiddin' me, Sol! Look at him. Standin' there with his spindle-legs! He can't defend a bloody trash can."

Medic shot the still-texting Scout a glare, making it a point to heal everyone in the room but him. "He can't defend anything with his eyes glued to zhat health-detrimental thingamabob!"

Pyro, currently spinning around the room, crashed into a wall and thumped onto the floor.

"But we can get Engineer on offense instead," suggested Sniper, not thinking Soldier's plan was too bad. "Switch it up, y'know."

A few other teammates nodded, muttering their agreement in small uh-huh-that's-all-right noises.

"Sounds like a plan," said Engineer, although to him it did not sound like a good plan, but he did not want to argue minutes before the battle started. He nudged Scout with a free elbow. "Can ya do that, kid?"

Scout looked up, blinking his eyes. "Huh? Do what?"

Delayed reactions; once again, not a good sign. Knowing that, the Texan gulped and quietly said, "Guard the intel today."

The young man nodded, then looked down. "All right, sure. Much easier than gettin' da intel, how I always do." Then he stuck his tongue out and texted even faster.

Engineer winced towards his team.

"If it's disastrous," said Spy, poofing into his cloak and out of sight, "we'll think of something."

Then sirens wailed, metal doors flung open, and the battle began.

Once in the confines of the RED defense room, Scout took a seat on the intel desk, right beside the spinning levitating briefcase. He looked around the room with a sigh, then pulled his pager out.

ther makn me defend the intel today...booooriiiiing

lmao

Scout briefly looked around to check if anybody was trying to kill him. Alas, he was not being attacked at that time. Therefore he proceeded to continue texting his friend. Battle tactics to the max, everyone.

soo ... wuts up w/ u ?

nothin. chillin home, watchng sum tv

cool

yaa

A faraway something panged against metal. Like a bright-eyed ferret, Scout's head shot up, scanned the room, and went back down. Instead of leaping forward to run and investigate, his fingers immediately tapped another message to his buddy back in Boston.

i just hrd sumtin, brb

kk

Scout put his pager in his pocket and walked in a cautious circle around the intel room, peeking into the hallways. "Anybody in here?" he called, which produced an echo back across the basement: ...anybody in here?...in here?...

Scout had always thought guarding the intel was this stand-here-and-slap-people's-hands-if-they-get-near sort of deal, like making sure little kids don't reach into a bowl of cookie dough. But here was Scout, gulping nervously in the dark, looking around but seeing only creeping shadows. There had always been teammates assigned to keep watch of the briefcase, but this was the first time they'd handed the job to Scout. He had never defended the intel before; he had never realized how scary it was.

Then Scout grinned. Because the scariness wouldn't be a problem at all, as long as he had his trusty—

He patted his side.

He patted his other side.

Crap.

hey bro u back yet ?

That was what the message read when Scout pulled out his buzzing pager. Ducking into the corner of the room, he hurriedly sent a cry for help, by texting his friend who was over a thousand miles away.

dude im havng an emergncy wat do i do! i forgt to brng my guns b4 the battle im such a frickin idiot wat do i do wat do i do?!

uhhhh wait this is a legit battle ? not traning

yea

o ok. can't u try to beat them up w/ ur hands or somthng?

dude wtf they have rocket launchrs n shit !

lmao ur screwed

Scout jumped at the feel of metal to his ear. "Peekaboo," said a voice.

Oh joy. Scout gulped and slowly put his pager in his pocket. Time to rack his brain for a master plan to get out alive.

It was Spy who walked around the young man, laughing, his gun still centimeters from Scout's cerebrum. "My goodness. What idiot assigned you to defend?"

"I did," he said, sweating profusely. "'Cause g-guess what? I got da most kickass new weapon you never even heard of. It's from da new update. It's called da Fryzon Triplekill Laser-Blaster 9000. So if you don't wanna get teleported to an alternate dimension, ya better skedaddle yer ass."

Spy's eyes bulged out. "Really?"

"Yeah, no joke," said Scout.

The Frenchman shrugged, keeping the gun aimed to Scout's head, and decided to make casual conversation. "It's like zhe Righteous Bison, I suppose?"

"Exactly, but much deadlier," he assured him.

"Market price?"

"Uh...13 ref."

Spy raised his brows. "Mmm. Not bad. May I see it?"

Scout pretended to lift something from the desk. Then he heftily raised up his empty hands. "Here it is," he said, pausing for a little while. "Except obviously it's invisible to da other team. Like da Emperor's New Robe, y'know."

Spy squinted.

"Better back off or I'll shoot," warned Scout.

They stood there for a little while after that, listening to faraway computer beeps, feeling very awkward.

"You really think I'm stupid, don't you?" asked Spy, quite bitterly.

"What do yo—"

A few seconds later, a bullet exploded through Scout's forehead, and the intel was already halfway up the stairs.