'My stomach hurts. Shouldn't have had that whole sandwich. My legs hurt. Wish they were numb again. It's cold and I won't stop sweating. What mile am I on?'
Contrary to popular belief—and occasionally irrefutable proof—Scout was not an idiot. There were, after all, several kinds of intelligence. Engineer dominated physics and mathematics while Demoman had chemistry. Medic's forte was biology and Spy mastered all things social, but there was one area in which Scout out-classed them all: creativity.
When faced with a problem, Scout was able to come up with many different solutions to it almost instantly. From there he would examine each one and narrow them down until he came to the answers with the greatest chance of success.
The other mercenaries may be smarter in their own fields, but Scout thought faster and was less predictable than any of them. This was how he got around sentries, Heavies, sticky-traps, Heavies with Medics, Heavies with Medics and Sandviches with sentries around the corner, and his ever-present RED doppleganger.
Sadly at the moment his problem was how tired he was and how much further he had to go, and the only solution was to keep running.
"BoooOOOOoooOOOOORIIIIING!" he yelled into the indifferent woods around him, then he fell back into thinking.
'Hate life. Hate Soldier. Wish I had music. RED Scout's got music, the dick. Why won't he trade with me? Why ain't we friends?'
He rubbed his chest, recalling their latest tussle. The RED Scout held a deep and singular hatred for the BLU original version; he had gone so far as to add short, thick spikes to his Sandman that caused his targets to bleed out. He called it the Boston Basher, and the only reason the BLU didn't turn and run at the sight of it was the RED hit himself with the stupid thing as often as anyone else.
Still, last time they ran into each other the BLU was struck right in his sternum, the iron spike punching right through the bone. That wasn't as bad as the sick, sadistic look of grim satisfaction in the RED's red eyes as he watched him die.
'All my looks and skills and crap and he hates my guts! Maybe being a clone makes you crazy. I mean I'D be grateful to be me! And he ain't got no friends to bug him, or brothers to send money at, or Ma to swing by and kiss him in front of the fellas...'
'...Wait...'
'...Waaaaait a second...'
Something about that last thought struck Scout with a familiar feeling. It was the one he got when he stared at the TFI maps and intelligence, or when he was talking at a girl. He could feel there was a connection he should be making here and it was right in front of him... if he could just focus—
'HOLY CRAP, A HAT!'
There on the side of the trail was an unguarded cap. It was royal blue and had a winged pin on the front over its shiny black brim.
The Team Captain, one of the most rare and coveted of hats.
Its siren call was irresistible. Scout looked over his shoulder. Soldier was nowhere in sight.
Scout veered off the trail and went to grab it, imagining the looks of envy and possible loot he could collect from trading for it. He put it on his head, but it was too big and covered his eyes for just a second. He lifted the brim...
—Thud, thud, thud, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD—
Scout gaped while Soldier sped passed him. "WHAT THE HELL!?" he yelled, shoving the hat in his pocket and scrabbling to close the distance. Soldier wasn't even close a second ago!
"You... cheated!" Scout gasped once he was alongside him. "You—you used... a shortcut!"
Scout thought he heard a sharp inhale before Soldier exploded. "CHEATED?! YOU SLIMY LITTLE UPSTART! I HAVE NEVER ONCE CHEATED AT ANYTHING IN MY LIFE! HOW DARE YOU EVEN THINK IT!? YOU ARE BRAINLESS, WORTHLESS SCUM AND YOU HATE AMERICA!" he yelled all at once without slowing down.
A hundred comebacks instantly sprang into Scout's mind, but having little to no air he selected the shortest one.
"You're... crazy!"
"YOU'RE CRAZY!" Soldier shouted, pouting just a little. "Nice hat, by the way."
Scout blinked. He thought he was out of sight when he put on the Team Captain, and it was in his pocket now. How did Soldier know about it? Unless...
"Was that... a trap?!"
"Hrrrr... I caught up to you fair and square," Jane Doe growled.
"DAT'S CHEATING, ASSHOLE!"
"NU-UH! NO ONE SAID I CAN'T TOSS ASIDE A HAT WHILE RUNNING!" Soldier yelled back. "Distractions and hats happen on the battlefield! You need to stay focused, soldier!"
"Hmph," Scout hmph'd. "Dat was a... dirty trick."
"THAT'S how you win WARS, son!" Soldier smiled, tapping his helmet. Before Scout could spout an insult or six, Soldier said, "I didn't mean it."
"More like... YOU didn't mean—wait, what?"
"What I said about your mother earlier," Soldier continued. "I didn't mean it. It's not personal, I've never even met your mother and I'm sure she's a fine woman. I pissed you off to make you sprint, to prove a point. You're reckless and stupid when you're angry—"
"YOU'RE reckless and stupid—"
"Just like the REDs," Soldier interrupted through gritted teeth. "Their hatred for us grows with every beat of their evil hearts! They aren't a unit like we are, but that makes them a lot more dangerous! Get it?"
"...Uhh..."
"DAMN IT, SON! If we have a weakness ANYWHERE, the REDs will have us by our collective nether-regions! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!" Soldier yelled, the veins popping out of his neck. "I cannot protect you if you do not FOLLOW MY ORDERS!"
While Soldier's apparent desire to defend his troops might have given Scout a different perspective on things, all he heard from that speech was 'You're a weakness'. This overshadowed any possibility of reconciliation and he threw a fit.
"Oh for—WE AIN'T BABIES!" Scout shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "We die... ALL THE TIME! WHAT are you... 'protectin' us from!? ...Tavish or somethin'?"
"No, it's—yes! Yes, exactly!" Soldier replied, smiling. "Tavish is so angry that I defeated his skirt-twirling butt with COMPLETELY LEGITAMATE MEANS in the war HE STARTED that he has sworn revenge against all of us! You should thank me for distracting him while you get all the easy fights!"
Scout raised an eyebrow. He didn't believe a word. "So dat's... where you're goin' all the time... during battles? You're off hangin' out with... the RED Demo?"
"I DO NOT HAVE TO ANSWER TO YOU!" Soldier roared, his voice raising in volume with every exclamation. "I AM THE COMMANDER! I AM YOUR SUPERIOR! NOW PUT ON YOUR BIG-BOY PANTS AND GET BACK IN LINE, OR WE WILL DO THIS AGAIN AND AGAIN UNTIL YOU BREAK!"
Scout was the best at coming up with multiple solutions to a problem. It was here that he realized sometimes the solution was decided for you.
He had to finish this race. He had to win. If he tied or lost, he and every other BLU would be stuck under this crazy old bully's iron boots forever.
With over 2 miles to go, Scout sprinted for all he was worth. Breathing too deeply in this climate hurt his chest so he had to keep it shallow, ignore the cramping in his calves and the burning in his lungs, double-jump over the hilly areas and keep going... Keep going...!
—Thud, thud, thud, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD—
Scout looked behind him just in time to see Soldier thundering on his heels. The world went into slow-motion as Soldier caught up once again in a helmeted blur. It looked like he was running on Bonk, except...
Oh.
Oh, no.
At the apex of the trail, the rest of the team had gathered around to bet on the winner.
Engineer was in charge of keeping track of the numbers. There was a large pile of money, hats, and scrap metal on a dispenser he'd built just for that. "Soldier vs. Scout, odds are 4:1! Big money, big money!"
"I didnae say I was gonna take ALL of ya on!" Demo protested, watching all the other BLUs add to the pile of cash. "Ach, so mooch money...!" he muttered, nearly crying. He'd had to put up many of his own hats and equipment to cover the difference. This only enticed them to bid higher.
Sniper chuckled while Engineer smiled coldly at him. "What in Sam Hill were you thinkin', boy?" Engineer asked, eying a cowboy hat with planets orbiting around it.
"FOOK YOU! If ya think ye're bleedin' me dry, I'm gonna shove me sticky launcher right up yer—"
Suddenly Medic yelled, "UWAAAH!" and pointed at the trail. A slim figure half-jogged, half-fell out of the woods and headed to the track.
Something was clearly wrong. Scout's run was more of a stumble and his arrogance and speed were replaced with desperation and constant tripping. The hostile/jovial air vanished as they watched the exhausted young man force himself towards them.
"...I raise tiny baby bet," Heavy said, breaking the silence.
Demoman wouldn't have it. He jumped onto the top tier of the benches and cupped his hands around his mouth. "COME OOOOON! YOU CAN DO IT, LAD!" he yelled.
Scout looked up and flashed them a weak smile. He was so close, so wonderfully close to the finish line! Not even one lap left!
—Thud, thud, thud, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD—
Then Soldier came up from behind him, easily passing him in a flash.
He was charging.
"How...?" Sniper asked, scratching his head. Engineer shrugged and Pyro looked quizzically at Demo.
"Hmmph hudduh huh?"
Demo didn't see Pyro at all. He was only staring at Soldier. Charging was a secret technique passed from one DeGroot to another for generations! How did Jane Doe come across it?
He might be a clone, but the BLU Demo felt the fury of ancient Scottish warriors as they cried out for justice all the same. He howled with rage at the sight, screaming the longest, foulest profanities he knew and startling Pyro with a terrified 'huh!'
Meanwhile, Scout reached into his pocket and took out the can of Bonk. Unable to stop running, it took him a few tries to open the can, and when he did it the carbonated drink fizzed all over his hand. He chugged about a third of it and had to toss it aside, but it was enough.
Scout's pupils dilated as the drug hit his bloodstream. The world around him seemed to slow down nearly to the point that it stopped. Running was the easiest thing in the world, it felt like he was moving on air.
The euphoric affect was a nice bonus, too. He was deliriously happy and the pain in his whole body was practically gone.
"WOOHOOHOO!" he crowed, triumphant. Soldier didn't stand a chance now! He surged forward at ludicrous speed, the ground flying beneath his feet, Soldier achingly close... closer...
Jane saw Scout approaching. For the briefest instant, Scout saw his expression of unguarded surprise, and now they were tied, his team's cheers and Heavy's dismay and whatever Demoman was yelling about all in hilarious bullet-time, and now he was in the lead, the end just ahead of him, and something inside him lurched and OH SHIT—
After just a few seconds, a mere 20 feet away from victory, Scout jerked and collapsed on his hands and knees. He heaved up the Bonk and what was left of the sandwich while Soldier simply marched across the finish line.
"UWAAAAAH!" Medic shrieked again.
"SANDVICH!?" Heavy cried. "HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN!?"
Demo pulled his collar while Heavy accused Medic of aiding 'loud tiny baby man,' which of course he denied. Demoman quietly asked Spy to borrow his invisibility watch at the exact same moment that Soldier casually strolled up to him and punched him in the jaw.
Caught completely off-guard, Demo was struck so hard that he spun around and fell over. "THAT'S for calling me NUTTY last chapter!" Soldier yelled over him.
Jane took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back. He watched the other mercenaries, who were watching him. "Payload tomorrow 08:00," he said clearly and loudly, as though he'd gone for a pleasant stroll, then he walked back to the barracks.
The BLUs collectively turned their attention to Scout. He was standing at the finish line and glaring at them with his arms folded, looking defiant and helpless at once.
Demoman mumbled half-slurred curses at the truck that hit him while Spy high-fived with Medic. Engineer collected everyone's winnings and passed them out, chuckling and saying how utterly predictable the whole affair was. Pyro said "Hudduh," very profoundly.
Sniper only observed as usual. This time Scout was trying not to meet the his gaze.
Sniper wasn't certain how he felt. He'd wanted something like this to happen for so long, for Scout to be put in his place with the rest of them... but once it happened, seeing Scout standing alone and ashamed, he felt no satisfaction.
Pity gnawed at his conscience, irritating him. Maybe he could say something? 'You were this close,' 'Who knew he could charge,' 'If you had been ready,' 'I really almost bet on you there, mate...'
But would any of that help? Wouldn't comfort at this point just encourage Scout to keep fighting?
Sniper stayed silent and left. Scout watched him go, watched everyone else take their loot and walk away from him, certain they were all smug about his defeat and happy to keep him so low in the pecking-order, with Soldier on top punishing him and only him—
Oh wait, Heavy was coming over. He looked upset. While they weren't exactly friends, something besides condescension from anyone would be welcome right now.
"...You stole sandvich," Heavy whispered, a tear in his eye. "Sandvich was for doktor."
"Umm—"
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Heavy roared, running forward to grab and crush Scout.
"AAAH!" Scout screamed as he bolted. For the first time in his life, Scout found it very hard to run from him!
