Chapter 3—Ball 1
Scout winced. The left side of his face still stung from the day before. It wouldn't have been as humiliating if he'd gotten hurt in battle or something, but it was a hand slap from an angry girl. A girl! Scout didn't think of himself as easily embarrassed, but getting slapped so hard your face bruised and even Medic laughed at you when you went to him for help was just downright humiliating.
A bullet whipped by his ear with a whistle and buried itself in the wall behind him. He jumped in surprise, then did his best to focus. Today's mission was to get a briefcase from some RED base and get it safely back to the BLU base not far away. Scout was running recon as usual and he guessed he'd been spotted. He scanned the area, quickly spotting the RED Engineer with his pistol out and aimed right at him. Scout ducked behind a wall just before the Engineer fired and went looking for another route that didn't take him through the path of an angry RED and his level three sentry.
He circled around behind, making his way back to the resupply room. His scattergun was nearly empty and a quick heal wouldn't go unappreciated either. By the time he got back, his scattergun was empty and he had to fend off REDs with his pistol and trusty bat. Exhausted, Scout leaned against the cabinet in the resupply room and gulped in air. Recon was great for the Team and all, but it took a lot out of a guy, even if said guy was a perfect example of a strapping young man.
"Y'okay, laddie?"
Scout looked up at Demoman, who had just walked in. "Yeah, no problem," he grinned, straightening up. "Just grabbin' some more ammo so's I can go bust some more heads!"
The Scottish Cyclops laughed and clapped Scout on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Aye, 'tis a good day t'be on BLU! Jes' pick up some paperwork'n'head on home fer tea'n biscuits, yeh?"
"Uh...right." Scout started reloading his scattergun and stuffed several more refills in his pockets. "Well, better get back out there," he said with forced cheerfulness. "I got a bat with that RED Engie's name on it."
Demoman squinted at Scout's bat. "RED Engineer's name is Sandman?"
"Never mind. Let's get goin' already!"
"Hold up, lad." Demoman was staring at Scout's face. "What's all that aboot?"
"Oh, the bruise? Nothin', really." Okay, Scout really wanted out of there now.
Demoman produced a bottle of Scrumpy from seemingly out of nowhere and took a swig. "Wouldn't have anythin' ta do with yer conversation wiv Soldier las' night, would it?"
Scout scowled and looked away, folding his arms. "I don't wanna talk about it. Shouldn't we be gettin' back out there?"
"I thought 's much." The tall man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Wimmen, eh? Cannae live with 'em, cannae live without 'em."
Scout snorted, tapping his bat against his foot. "Ain't that the truth."
"Yeh still lookin' fer advice?"
He hesitated. Eh, the Team could wait a couple minutes. "Sure, shoot."
"Presents'n'praise, lad, presents'n'praise. Shower her wiv both and she's sure t'come 'round eventually." Another clap on the shoulder and Demoman grabbed a couple grenades from the cabinet and sprinted out of the room, shouting "FRAEEEDOOOOM!" at the top of his lungs.
Scout hefted his scattergun and ran out after him, shooting at anything that got in his way and easily crossing back over to where the RED Engineer had set up camp. Actually, he thought as he clocked the Engie over the head and ran from his sentry, what Demoman said makes a lot of sense. It certainly made more sense than Soldier's advice. All he'd gotten from that was a bruise, an even lower ranking in Miss Pauling's good books, and a bad mood. But gifts? He could do gifts. Praise? Piece a cake. Scout was quite the ladykiller, after all (figuratively, of course); he could handle handing out compliments.
He grinned as he shot at the Engineer's sentry. It started to shoot back, so he quickly fled, but he wasn't worried. He had renewed hope, and best of all, he knew just what to get Miss Pauling to get him back in her good books—if he'd ever been there to begin with.
She stared at the hastily-wrapped object in his hands. "A handgun?"
He grinned at her. "Maybe."
"Scout, it's pretty clear that it's a handgun."
"You never know," he said defensively. "It might be a necklace in a handgun-shaped box."
Miss Pauling looked up at the young man. "I'm not going to get away from you unless I unwrap it, am I?"
"Nope," he replied cheerfully. He held it out. "C'mon, what harm could it do?"
She sighed and reluctantly took the package. It was wrapped in blueprints and held together with heavy-duty masking tape. "Does Engineer know you have his blueprints?" she asked, carefully trying to unwrap it without ripping anything important.
"Naw, I took these off the Engineer I got today," he boasted.
Miss Pauling held up the crumpled blue paper and inspected it. It appeared to be for an electronic percolator. She looked at the object that had been wrapped in it. It was indeed a handgun.
"Surprise!" he sang. "It's a pistol!"
She shook her head. "Scout, I can't accept this. You need it for work."
"Nah, I have another one in my room and I never use this one." He beamed at her. "Besides, I think you need it more'n me."
She held it out for him. "No, I don't. I can't accept it; take it back."
"No, you do! See, I figure, a pretty lady like you needs t'be able to protect herself! Ya know how dangerous it can be out there, all them creepers creepin' about. An' creepers love pickin' on pretty girls, such as yerself, so I said to myself, 'as a man, it's my duty t'make sure nothin' bad happens to pretty li'l Miss Pauling while she's out and about,' and I had a brainwave and here we are." Scout hoped he'd used the word "pretty" enough. He pushed the gun back towards her. "Want me to show ya how to use it?"
"No, I want you to take it back." She pressed it firmly into his hand. "I do know how to take care of myself, thanks, and I have used guns before. Now go on back to base; I have some paperwork that needs doing and I'm sure you have some business to attend to as well."
Scout stared at the Pretty Boy's Pocket Pistol in his hand. "You...you don't like it?"
She ignored him. "I'm going now. Goodnight, Scout."
He nodded and turned to go dejectedly. "Scout?" Her voice stopped him and he looked over his shoulder at her. She gave him a small smile. "I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. But like I said, I can take care of myself." She turned and disappeared through a door.
Heavy was happily making himself a third sandwich when Scout sauntered into the mess hall. He glanced up. Scout didn't look as grouchy as he had a couple days ago. In fact he almost looked pleased with himself. Heavy didn't know why, and he didn't really care either, and he just went back to making his sandwich.
Scout scanned the room until he spotted Demoman chugging a bottle in the corner. He walked over to him, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "Hey, Cyclops." Demoman squinted up at him. Scout's grin widened. "Thanks fer earlier," he said. "Didn't go like I planned, but hey, progress, right?"
Demoman nodded, looking like he wasn't quite sure what he was agreeing with, and Scout headed off again, grabbing several items out of the fridge on his way out, whistling a little tune. If any of the other mercenaries had cared any about popular music, they might've recognised it as "She Loves You" by the Beatles. Yeah, it'd been a good day.
