As the week began to roll by Tracks and Scout found their time to play ball. What at first became a simple request turned into a natural routine; the two did this daily now. The men who made up the RED team had viewed the Tracker to be a very clever girl. Scout undoubtedly believed this, though he wouldn't admit to it verbally. It had only taken her little time since her arrival to successfully kill a man, and she took her first death messy yet surprisingly well. Yet it astounded the young man to see how terrible she was at a family sport such as baseball. When the Scout made a promise he would keep by it—so long as that promise was to himself that is. And the young man promised that he would be able to make her hit that ball and get a homerun whether she liked it or not. Hell, all of his brothers could do it and so could his mother. Why couldn't she? Time alone showed that she could do this, but it would take one hell of a while. Patience was something he had to adopt, but in the end it proved to be fun. They learned from each other using the little fact exchanging quirk the two devised. Favorite colors, favorite music, and other pointless information that the other had become known. A little too often he would hit the ball a little too hard and sent it flying, and other times he forced her to really work in order to get him out. Scout was a fast devil, and she had managed to become almost just as fast. Surprisingly their little game became somewhat of a training sequence for the two. Perhaps if it weren't for this factor the Scout would have given it up earlier in the week. But as the days progressed, and as the number of times they rammed into each other accumulated into a hefty number, the Scout started to feel strange.

As if he already hadn't—he had always felt strange about bonding with her. It was seemingly so impossible that even the Soldier was surprised by this. But no, it started to grow stranger. The little things she did were actions he was starting to become desperate to see. Sometimes when she spoke it was all a blur to him, and all he could see was her face looking at him. When she'd curse he'd respond back with something a little too flattering for his taste. In fact, the number of times he had called her doll face increased by a threatening amount. Then there was that smile she did. It wasn't rare, but nor was it often. When he'd make his smug statements or joke around she give him a little smile that was so small and so sweet. It was so entrancing that the Scout had caught himself smiling childishly at her turned form every time they finished the sport. It was disgraceful. Scout wouldn't spend a waking moment without reminding himself how much of a complete waste of his time she was. But hell…that smile was real precious.

After seven days wrung up he started to get real concerned. At some point, though he hadn't noticed, he started walking her to her room and accompanying her to meals and training. Though he wouldn't spend all of the time with her he somehow managed to latch onto her. Tracks mustn't have noticed, or else she would have cursed him out by now. But the two men of other origins did, and they teased him endlessly about it. It was to the point where the Scout loathed spotting the Spy and Sniper. But what really sucked was when he ran into the both of them at once—now that was a living hell. Usually his chill, devil-may-care demeanor would shield him from the troublesome factors around him. This time it wasn't. This time he found himself sitting on the side of his bed, shirtless, with legs spread open and face buried within his chafed palms. Like he did ever night for the past three months. Taking the advice from the men around him didn't help—anything that hinted on that the issue was like that they began to elbow bump him and wink shamelessly. It was sickening that the men assumed, and they didn't even know how right they were. Desperation overwhelmed him. His reputation was at hand now. Luckily for him he kept a nice roll of nickels and quarters in case he needed to call someone. The Scout pressed the cold metal piece into his ear, the receiving end hovering closely against his lips. Rolling his eyes around the Scout had made sure no one was at hearing distance, and then he began to speak into the payphone. It rung, and a smooth voice answered the phone. Scout took in a deep breath of cold crisp air before speaking.

"Hey ma…"

Chapter 13

The Running Infatuation

The boy bit his lip at the sound of his mother's lighthearted gasp. Though he called her often she still was delighted to hear.

"Hey hon. How are you?"

"I'm great. Listen, I-I gotta talk to you 'bout somethin'," he had leaned back into the hallway, peeking from the niche to see if the coast was clear. Not one soul seemed to be up and about when his mother sighed from the other line.

"What did you do now…"

"It's nothin' like that. I'm kinda needin' some of your…advice," he struggles to find the correct words. In all honest this was a shocker for her—the boy seemed to always know what he was doing. Confidence was a true gene that sprouted in each and every one of her eight children, but the Scout was the most boastful and undaunted of all. He could hear her finger tapping against the phone, her silence worrying him.

"…ma?"

"What do you need help on, sweetie?"

The Scout flares his narrow nostrils before he takes in a sharp breath. "You remember that…girl…I told you about that works with me?"

"Mmhmmm."

Nervously he bit onto the inside of his lip, his eyes darting down to gaze at the floor with self-pity. "I…I think I like her." Like. That was a childish way of putting it. He fumes at himself—he couldn't even remember the last time he was spellbound by some chick. Working in the TF Industries all of these years the only lady he came across was Miss Pauling, and even then the kind of hots he had for here wasn't like this. His mother seemed to have fallen silent again. Usually when the Scout calls her he would boast on about how much Miss Pauling was dying to date him but that they never did. In all honesty all of the times he spoke about a girl he did so with such dauntlessness in his wording. But now he sounded meek and hush, his voice stuttering and his words carefully picked. For once the Scout wasn't ranting, and now for once his mother might have had to believe him.

"…as in like, like?"

The Scout rolls his eyes. "Yes, mom. I like the chick." The boy could only imagine the look on her face; a mix of surprise and excitement, followed by her fingers clasped over her arrowed lips to suppress a lighthearted laugh. It made his cheeks turn pink, his free hand shoving into his pants pockets. This was worse than anything he's ever felt. "How much do you like her?"

The Scout blinks. He hadn't thought of an answer for that question yet. Licking his dry lips he rubs his chest intently. "Ahh…I-I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Stop being such a baby and tell me I won't go and tell your brothers. It'll be out little secret!"

With a flushed face he jerks his arm out defensively. "I don' know, ma! I just frickin' like her. I try goin' about my damn business and all the sudden I'll just start thinking about her! The sometimes she'll bump into me and my stomach feels like I wanna frickin' hurl. Oh, and sometimes she'll smile, b-but it ain't like your average smile no it's like she's frickin' taunting me with it and it makes me wanna grab her and…and…" The Scout's eyes widen.

Oops, he didn't mean to say that much. "…a-and spill my guts out," he bites his nails as he thought of a way to conceal his original thought. A small snicker played in his ear, and the Scout narrows his eyes. How she knew how to trick him he'll never know. Either way she was a witch for doing it. Poking at his chest he lets out a shaky sigh. "C'mon mom. I don't know what to do about it. It's killin' me, how do I get rid of it…" Another laugh, this time it made him wince.

"You can't unlike someone, hon! Tell me about her, is she pretty?"

Scout blushes. "W-What?!"

"I bet she's gorgeous. You've always had a good taste in girls."

"M-Ma! Shut up! Just tell me how to fix this! I don't want to like her, okay!? I'm trying to keep myself from it!" His dedication to get his answer was enough to make her laugh again. Clasping his bandaged palm over his face he dragged it downward. "Oh, you're reminding me of when I was your age. Always fighting. Anyway, I gotta go. Call me back soon," her words chimed teasingly. The Scout stutters, his face completely flustered. "W-Wait, mom!" But it was too late. The click rang in his ears before the long and dry tone rung its long and stretched note. His mother had hung up on him. Deep in his stomach he could feel that twisting, wretched feeling again. His mom didn't help him—he really was alone here.

"You alright, mate?"

The Scout jumps, his hands desperately trying to grasp along the plastic phone. Sniper stood by him, his hands dug within his coat's pockets. Not far off the Medic stood near him, his arms crossed behind his back properly. Frantically the youngster slams the phone back into its rightful place, his hands fumbling against his chest before shoving into his own pockets. The Scout pulls up a quick façade, his eyes playing a sanguine look as he cocks his hips out carelessly. "Yeah, why you buttin' in my business Kangaroo Jack?"

The Sniper didn't seem all too pleased by this answer, his eyebrow arching up. "…was that yer mum on the phone?" The boy stared, a look of subtly panic in his eyes before he nods. "What? Yeah, so what I call my mom? Jus' tryin' to be a responsible kid heheh," he laughs awkwardly, his feet kicking to the side carelessly. Sniper simply stared, his teeth sucking against his bottom lip as gives the German a quick glance. Medic gave him a strange grin, a small tint of wickedness playing on the corners of his mouth. "Ist there something ve should know, Herr Scout?" The two watched as the young man inched backward at a moderate speed, his shoulders arching back proudly. He shakes his head, sweat beading on the rim of his cap. "Wha? No! Nothin' really, jus' the usual. I'm gonna go get ready for the battle later if anyone needs me." With that he turns, stalking away rather quickly. The two men didn't even care to look at one another.

"You heard their conversation too, right?"

"Ja. Every word."

"Thought so. Aight…I'm off ta go tell Spoi," he pats the man's back before walking off.

Within hours loud explosions and zooming gunfire blaze the deserted land around them. Soldier had been running into the chaos with his launcher in hand, the Pyro nearby. "MOVE, PRIVATES! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"

"Mmmrph mmph!"

"…one o'clock, right next to the Pyro."

A cracking roar thunders through the air and slices the wind in half before burring itself within the BLU Engineer. The Sniper grunts. "Got it, Shiela." Near him the Tracker nods, humming lightly next to him. Her fingers tapped lightly along her shin guards, and she produced an even rhythm that the Sniper couldn't help but tap his foot along to. Taking a small moment he pulls his arm back to scratch his chiseled jaw. "How you holdin' up?" he asks her, and she gives him a light chuckle.

"Good—I like bein' up here with you Snipes." The man smiled at this. Before when the Spy and she had fought he could have sworn she was sick of looking at him. Some people could say he was going soft. He wasn't sure about that, but he couldn't help but grow on the girl. It was a company he enjoyed, and that was considered rare company. Rubbing his nose he lets in a snort. In all honesty he didn't want her caged up there, but she hadn't been desperate to go down in the main fight for a week now. At first he didn't understand why, but then he had realized what had been keeping her rather optimistic.

"…I ain't earbashin' you am I?" he questions her before wrapping his finger around the trigger again. Tracks gazes at him, her eyebrow raised. "You? Nah, I like it when we talk. It's boring when it's too quiet." He shook his head, humming at her statement. Sucking on his tooth he produces a small click with his tongue before speaking again. "How are you an' the bloke?"

"Spy?" The man chuckles. "You know who I'm talkin' about," his voice chimed rather teasingly. Tracks's shyness kicks in, her stomach twisting. Did he really mean who she thought he meant? Gulping the tightness in her throat down she lets out a shocked cough. "We're fine," her eyes darted around the warzone anxiously. Another long and airy chuckle made her spine tingle. Tracks snaps a glare to him, and surprisingly enough he had turned to her. "Tell me the truth, Shiela."

The girl presses her lips together, her shoulders squeezing inward with irritation. Why did they have to talk about this now? Here? The girl bangs her fingers against her shin guards louder, her panic evident. "Truth? What truth? We're getting along, that's it really…" Silence filled the air, but then a laugh so loud made her jump. The Sniper jerks his body back, his head arching. If he hadn't been holding his own hat it would have flopped off. Tracks gave him a stern look the entire time, her face blushing. "…what?"

"Ahhh…you're cute Shiela." He watches as she snaps to face him now, the two completely ignoring the fight below now. "What are you going on about?!"

Sniper raises a brow. "Well, you an' the Scout." Now that got to her. Visibly her hair stood, her nose cringing. The man simply leans forward, his hand still firmly holding his gun towards the window. "No drama, Shiela. Everybody knows."

"W-Wait, they know?!" she yelps. That was impossible—how would they know stuff like that? SHE didn't even know! The Sniper freezes, his glasses sliding down his nose. Firmly she pushes them back up. "You two didn't have a naughty, did you?" he questions her in disbelief. An explosion of red spreads over her nose and down her neck. Tracks shook her head furiously. "What?! No!"

"Easy there, Shiela. You're both adults I won't skin you alive if you did," he raised his free are reassuringly. For some reason this was a comfortable subject for him. But Tracks never spoke of such a subject ever in her life with anyone, not even herself. Furiously she tugs in her hair. "But Snipes, we didn't do anything!" Her eyes roll down to the ground, her muscles relaxing. "It's just…I think I'm starting to-" Suddenly the window between them crashes, the glass showering over them. Tracks guards her face with her arms, her eyes wide shock. Sniper jerks back and lands upon the ground, sliding back until his head hits the wall. The man grits his teeth. "They saw us, Shiela! We're movin'," he calls to her before pulling the floor door open. He slides his rifle back into its holster before climbing down. "C'mon, hurry up!" The two climbed down the length of the ladder, their feet and hands moving in unison. Lucky for the Sniper the girl was good at scaling. Occasional bullets zoom past them. One skids along her side, ripping her jacket and tearing through her shirt. It skids along her skin, leaving a burning mark. She winces, her hands nearly slipping. The Sniper gazes up at her before allowing himself to drop the rest of the way. "You okay Shiela?!"

"Yeah…I fuckin' got shot. I think," she sneers through clenched teeth. The man opens his arms up. "I'll catch you!" Unlike many people she had come across the Tracker was able to trust the Sniper. Without thinking anything of it she releases the ladder. Swiftly he snatches her from the air before placing her back down. The young woman grits her teeth, her hand pressed over the searing wound. Drawing her palm back she notices the blood that coats it. Sniper narrows his gaze, but a bullet bounces from the wall near their heads. He curses, covering her form with his. "Move!" The two sprint off to the nearest cover. Dirt and sand flew through the air—screaming and yelling tore in their ears. Mercilessly the BLUs mowed down their desired path. Tracks gasps, her body sliding. Sniper dives to the side, his hand grabbing onto her wrist and yanking her into the alley. She yelps at the force, her body rolling like a ball down the length of the small opening. Her back slams against the wooden building firmly, her legs sprawled in the air as her neck arched in the most uncomfortable way. Her body slowly slinks within itself, her lungs crushed by her own weight. "You alright, mate?" she hears the Sniper.

"No…" she stirs, rolling to the side and standing. The woman sways, her head shaking furiously to regain her composure. Another flurry of bullets embeds into the ground, the Sniper's eyes widening. A booming voice bounced from the walls and filled the air with an intimidating sensation. The BLU Heavy was trying to corner them, his gun whirling and ready to fire once again. The Australian stumbles back, his small machinegun proving to be a pathetic form of protection. "Tracks! Run!"

"But Snipes-"

"Ferget about me and-" his voice cuts off. Metal pieces smooth as glass pierce through his back and out of his chest. A gurgling of pain pulls from his throat, and the man slowly falls to his knees. The man's blood splatters against the ground, the slapping sound twisting her stomach. Tracks cringed, her eyes wide with horror at the sight. With eyes rolling up he falls to the ground lifeless. "Oh...shit." That was her cue to bolt.

The woman turns on her heels, her feet moving faster than ever in her entire existence. After her surgery with the Medic she never really tested her full capacity until now—and hell, did it feel great. Whatever that crazed man did she had to give him a huge hug. Turning the sharp corners proved to be difficult for her still. All of the time she was with the Sniper, and if he ever died she'd wait for him to respawn. But now she had no safe haven—she smack dab in the war. Using her own weight she pushes against the corners and buildings to aid her in her turns. Successfully skidding along the ground she comes to a stop, her chest bouncing with every pant she made. Far off in the distance were a few REDs and BLUs, battling on a blood coated arena. The girl bites her lip—what was she going to do exactly? A crisp rustling stuns her. The crisp sound was suspicious. Narrowing her eyes she slowly turns her head to gaze over her shoulder. Twisting her torso she slightly turns to gaze behind her. Nothing was there.

"…" The deafening battle behind her made her want to turn back around, but something didn't feel right. The ground should have been uneven from her previous sprint, but parts of it were flattened back into shape now. Reaching to her hip she pulls out her binoculars, holding it before her eyes. The zoom was off, so it was like gazing through strange glasses. Her finger pokes the infrared vision. Within a blue and green background stood a red and white figure. Tracks stutters, her feet stumbling back. The form slowly became visible. A translucent cloud of smoke hazes the air as he came out from his camouflage. The BLU Spy sneers at her, his butterfly knife armed and ready. Viciously he swings it with acute precision. Tracks produces an angry yelp as she attempts to dodge. He had managed to cut a deep slit into her chest, her neck tensing as the painful sting overwhelmed her. With a heaving chest she dodges his attack again. "You don't hit a lady!" she spins, her guarded legs slamming into his side. The hit was sure to crack his rib or two but it didn't faze him as much as she had hoped for. Slowly he snaps his head up at her, his hand flicking his knife back into its deadly form. Sweat rolls from her chin, stinging her new wound. She winces, an awkward laugh erupting from her retreating form.

Generally she'd prefer taking on a big bad BLU in hand to hand combat, but retreating was her profession after all. Besides, the BLU Spy scared her just as much as the RED one. Her face was priceless—wide eyed and panicking, her mouth gawking open and her bangs sticking to her dirtied face. A scream of terror erupts from her throat as she maneuvers through the various men. She earns some bewildered stares as she leaps up and grabs onto the overhang of a building. Pulling herself up she rolls away, the BLU Spy glaring after her.

"Ahh…I'm safe…I'm safe…I'm safe…ahhhhh…ahh…" her gasps for air were loud and rough. Raising her hand she rubs her eyes, her finger tapping against the cut. She winces, blood smothering her fingertips. Rubbing the texture she could smell the coppery aroma from it. Her nose snorts—it was a distasteful smell when it was her own.

"FUCK!"

Her body jerks up, her eyes scanning the area. That sounded like the Scout. Crawling on all fours she peaks over the edge of the roof. Down below the Scout rolled out of the way, the BLU Pyro swinging his axe downward and missing by just a hair. Scout had been bouncing on his feet attentively, but his face looked completely horrified. Tracks couldn't blame him—the man was one hell of a scare. The giant slab of metal managed to slice the boy's shoulder. The loud crack of his body hitting a support beam made the woman practically gag. His body slumps down, hand grabbing onto the wound. The BLU Pyro raises his precious weapon, the Scout laid out like firewood. "Shit," Tracks curses, standing to her feet.

"W-Wait, big guy! I didn't mean to say that about your mom—if you even have one. C-Can't we talk about this?" The Scout earned no response from the man, his arms swinging down. But suddenly the man's muffled grunts arise, and legs wrap around his neck. Taking a grip on the axe she pulls it above his head, expecting him to let go. But he hadn't, instead they fought for the weapon as she balanced herself upon his shoulders. "AAHHHH, WHAT AM I DOING?!" she hysterically pulls the axe for dear life, her legs gripping tighter when she began to slump back. The BLU Pyro chokes and gags under his mask. Scout blinks, his lips parted. He didn't know how to feel about the sight before him. Another unnerving string of curses escapes the Tracker's lips. "S-SCOUT!" Reaching over he clutches onto hit scattershot, aiming for the man and shooting him straight in the gut. The pyromaniac makes a discomforting noise before finally bending over and flipping Tracks off. She rolls along the ground, her body crashing into the Scout. Terror-stricken, she gazes up at the perplexed boy. "…hi," was all she could muster up. He presses his lips together, irritated and flabbergasted by her actions. But her hand grabs onto his wrist, and she pulls him after her. "C'mon," she pulls out her binoculars. They run into a clearing, the Scout jerking his head around.

"Where are they!?" he snarls, hands griping onto his shotgun. Using her piece of technology she scans the area. A heated figure was picked up sneaking along the roofs. No doubt it was the BLU Spy. She lowers her binoculars, pouting. "…right, c'mon. It's dangerous over there."

"Wait, what?" he gives her an untrusted stare. Once again she drags him down to a random direction. The youngster despised not knowing what was going on. His patience was reached and he yanks his arm free from her grasp. They spin to face one another. "Where the fuck are you leading us?!" he gnarls. Biting her lips she lets out a sigh—this was not the time to be quarreling. A stray rocket bursts nearby, the two protecting their heads from the scrap metal and wooden chips that flew by. The Scout mutters a curse under his breath, his temple reaching a boiling point. But once his blue eyes opened again he notices the Tracker climbing the side of the building quickly, her eyes wide with fear. "W-Wait…fuck!" The boy jumps forward, his strong grip allowing him to scale after her. Pulling himself up he sprint after her. In no time he was charging alongside her. "You fuckin' ditched me!"

Tracks fulminates. "You didn't want my help!" she accuses him. The two exchanged a heated glare, but a loud force shoves him into her. They scream in unison, smoke emanating from the chair flesh on his skin. The boy groans, his arms shivering with pain. With flared nostrils he tugs at the stray piece of metal piercing into his bicep. The boy fumbles, his fingers too large to yank it out. "Fuck…" Suddenly smaller fingers manage to grip onto the tip, yanking it out swiftly. The Scout yelps, his arm retracting back. Tracks stares at him, slightly guilty. "What? I helped you," she tosses it to the side.

"I KNOW YOU'RE UP THERE, MAGGOTS!" The two runners glace towards the edge of the roof. The BLU Soldier equips one of his grenades, pulling the pin clean off. "I'M GOING TO FINISH WHAT I SHOULD HAVE ONE WEEK AGO!" With a strong throw the grenades comes flying towards their location at full speed. The Scout had prepared to flee, but Tracks pulls him down. "The hell?! We gotta bolt!"

"Baseball."

He gives her an irked look. "What?!" Suddenly she shoves his own bat into his chest. He fumbles, grabbing it. She gives him a serious look. "Baseball!" It took him a minute to realize what she had meant. Biting his lip he gives her a sharp nod before jumping up. Naturally he takes a stance, his bat raised over his head. The grenade closes in, and just as it reaches a certain point the Scout swings. The BLU Soldier's grin disappears, his helmet sliding up as he tilts his head back. The grenade came flying back. Scout spins, grabbing her shoulder. "GET DOWN!"

The grenade explodes half way. The two run for the edge, the Scout quick enough to grab onto the edge. Tracks grabs onto his shoulders, her body pressing against his back as debris and scrape metal. Sweat rolls from his jawline as her thin arms cling around his neck, his wrists shivering from the extra weight. Slowly the Scout gazes over his shoulder. Her eyes were big and filled with dreadful exhaustion. He clenches his jaw.

"You're frickin' crazy," he pants. She stares blandly before giving him a pathetic grin. The girl lets out an exasperated laugh before pressing her face into the crook of his neck, her body going limp as she held onto him for dear life. Originally she was going to swing off of him onto the very same ledge he was holding onto, but a strange moment overcame her. Why not take the opportunity? Mentally cursing herself she squeezes her eyes shut, her body soaking in the way his body felt. This was her first time being close to Scout and she seemingly enjoyed it. Though, she'd never admit to herself she did. Perverted—she felt like a complete nut doing this. But the temptation was too strong. If she had a crush before then maybe it wouldn't have been. Her heart beats beneath her chest, the small pounds bumping against his aching back. Deep in his chest his heart cringed, her breath tickling his neck. For that very reason he struggled to take in a full breath, his arms shaking. He lets out a nervous laugh, his body tensing. He shot a glance at the ground—they were damn high up. The young man manages to gulp down a wad of saliva, his throat exceedingly tight. That subject he brought up to his mother bothered him to the bone. Something inside of him wanted to bring it up. "…Tracks?"

"Hmmm…?" her grunt was muffled against his neck. Her words vibrated into his shoulder, tickling his tense muscles. Oh…the sensation was good—it was killer. He was willing to nudge her just to make her groan into his neck again. Hell, maybe if he cursed her out she'd bite him like before. A tingling feeling grew in the pit of his stomach, threatening to spread outward. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind. Shit—what was he thinking?! And here of all places! His pearly whites tug against his bottom lip, his mind struggling to find a new subject. "…w-were kinda stuck." The feeling of her tense made his heart slow down some—maybe then they could get out of this situation. Wetness engulfed his back. Her chest had been bleeding against him, and he was grateful how it brought him some discomfort. Such a wonderful distraction to clear his mind. The sooner she'd let go of him the sooner that feeling would dull down. But suddenly she squeezes her grip. "Ahh…well at least you're comfortable," she laughs halfheartedly.

Now that made his mind haze.

Ahhhhh fuck! Scout releases his grip, stunned. He just couldn't concentrate anymore. A frantic screech tears from her lungs. "AAH?!" Together they plummet to the ground.