What was Scout yelling about? Let's find out!
"Seriously…what the fuck?" Scout muttered as he yanked at his feet angrily. He had left the dining hall, feeling pretty damn confident about his conversation with Sniper. He had made it clear that Sniper had better take him seriously, and in a few days, the man would have to admit that Scout was a better mercenary than him.
Maybe he would even make him say it in front of the whole team, just to solidify in everyone's minds that just because he was young, that didn't mean that he wasn't just as skilled as them. Beating the team's experienced tracker and marksman would prove it.
So he had walked down the dim hallway, heady with the thought of his imminent victory-right into a large patch of a sticky substance.
Now, he was desperately trying to yank his feet out of it, but the viscous black stuff had a death grip on his shoes, which he could barely lift an inch.
"Shit." The runner cursed, looking around for a way out. The walls on either side of him were smooth, so there was no hope of pulling himself out. Nothing was around that he could use to pry his feet free either.
He could still hear voices floating out of the dining room, but he would have sooner admitted defeat than called for help. He doubted any of them would have helped him anyway, they would have been too busy laughing at him.
This thought only spurred him to yank harder at his feet, desperate to escape before one of his teammates spotted him and called for the others. Or maybe Sniper was about to do that anyways: walk out of the dining hall with the rest of the team and stare him down while Scout stood there unable to escape.
Then Sniper would probably walk into the sticky liquid too and grab him to hold him still for the agreed upon 10 seconds. Scout knew that even if he fought the man, Sniper's superior strength would eventually win out. He would probably mutter one of his domination lines while he forced Scout into submission, or at the very least tell him that he had warned him not to take the marksman on.
The rest of the team would laugh, and for weeks, all he would hear about was how he was the 'cocky little boy' who thought he could best an assassin, and ended up walking right into a trap. That he was nothing but talk, and was undeniably the weakest member of the team.
It was too humiliating to think about.
In a burst of anger and panic, Scout yanked his feet one at a time out of his shoes, standing on top of them awkwardly. He was only about 2 feet from the edge of the puddle of..whatever it was, so his best choice was to jump and hope he could clear it.
For the second time that day, the runner found himself winding up for a standing jump, bending his legs and swinging his arms back before launching himself forwards. Thank god he was on the track team in high school before getting kicked off because of his bad grades, because standing long jump was saving his ass right now.
His landing was less than graceful, but it did the job, as he found himself stumbling on the other side of the puddle before collapsing on one knee. Scout recovered very quickly, his ego recovering just as swiftly.
"Ha! Nice try, Snipes, but your traps suck! That makes two I've gotten out of today!"
"That one wasn't meant to catch you, mate, just slow you down." Scout's head shot to face the hallway in front of him, which split into a fork. He could barely make out Sniper's form in the left fork. They really needed to get better lights in the halls, he thought idly as the marksman stepped into the light.
"Creative enough for you?" he asked, beginning that slow, deliberate walk forwards again.
Reacting quickly, Scout yelled "Ya didn't cover all of your bases, wombat!" before sprinting towards the right fork, which led to the workshops and medical bay. Surprisingly, Sniper didn't attempt to block his path, but the runner could hear footsteps behind him, indicating that Sniper had decided to give chase.
When the first sharp corner appeared, Scout realized very quickly that even though he had escaped the puddle, Sniper's trap had still put him at a large disadvantage. His manoeuvrability had been decreased significantly as he had barely any grip in his socks, which became apparent as he skidded around the corner, nearly colliding with a wall.
It was also harder to propel himself forwards with the lack of friction against the floor, so the runner was left both slower than usual, and struggling significantly to weave through the hallways.
Sniper, of course, was having none of these issues, and was slowly gaining ground on him. Scout knew that Sniper couldn't match him when it came to stamina, so if he could outlast him, he would be safe. But at the rate he was going, in such a twisted hallway, it was only a matter of time before Sniper caught up.
As he approached another section where the hallway split in two, Scout thought quickly and turned left, once again barely managing to avoid the wall.
This hallway did lead to a dead end, but there was also a large storage room stuffed full of boxes, provisions, and other assorted items. He knew it was impossible to get out of Sniper's line of sight and slip into a room unnoticed, but if he could get a closed door between them, maybe he could hide.
He could hear Sniper's chuckle, breathy from running, and he knew that the man believed he had won, seeing that Scout had run into a dead end.
The runner skidded to a stop in front of the storage room doors, hands scrambling to shove one open just enough to slip through, and then push it shut behind him just as quickly. The doors had no lock, so Scout grabbed the first object he spotted, a shovel, and pushed it through the door handles, securing the doors just as Sniper slammed into them.
The doors shuddered on their hinges, the shovel rattling in place, but they remained closed. Scout let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and slumped against the wall, panting as he caught his breath.
"Bet ya think you're real clever, but you can't stay in there forever, ya precious posey." Sniper's voice carried through the wooden doors.
"Oh yea? There's food in here, ya know!" The younger man shot back, his confidence returning since Sniper was subdued.
There was a pause. "Like what? Nothin' good, I bet."
Scout wandered towards the stacks of boxes, deciding he might as well investigate. He had nothing better to do.
The first box yielded blankets, the second bandages, and the third cans of beans, all of which he reported to Sniper through the door.
"Ya really think ya can stand to live off beans, mate?" the Australian quipped.
"You're jokin, right? 9 of us on only mom's wages when none of us were old enough to work? Beans. All the frickin' time. At this point, they're kinda a comfort food, ya know?" Scout reached for another box, on the top of a stack this time.
Sniper laughed a little. "Yeah, I do actually. Used to eat a lot of those on the road, they remind me of that now."
"We have so much in common, I knew there was a reason I liked ya!" Scout joked, yanking the box down. Unbeknownst to him, the top of the box was not secure, and some of the contents spilled out to smash on the ground. "Oh shit!"
"Ya alroight?"
"Yeah, just broke some glass…" Scout barked a laugh. "They're jars, ain't that ironic? Guess I can make use of the rest if I'm in here for a while…"
He carefully picked his way around the shards, but his socks offered very little protection, and he felt more than one small piece pierce his feet.
"Ow.." he muttered, but Sniper's keen hearing still managed to pick up his voice.
"Sure you're okay in there?"
Scout rolled his eyes, searching for somewhere to put the box of jars down. "I just stepped on a bit of glass, I'm fine."
"Aw shite, that'd be my fault for taking your shoes." Another short pause. "Hang on, I'm comin' in."
Scout turned around to face the door, slowly since his feet were starting to sting a little. "Yea, good luck with th-"
His words died in his throat when he spotted the kuriki sawing its way through the shovel handle. Sniper had slipped it between the two doors and cut so silently that Scout hadn't even noticed.
"What're ya doing, Snipes?" he demanded.
The marksman chuckled throatily, which only pissed Scout off further. "You didn't think I was just standin 'ere, talking to ya this whole time, did ya? It takes more than a blocked door to keep me out."
Scout spluttered for a moment, but then shot back "Yea, well, it's gonna take ya a long time ta saw through that at the rate you're goin'!"
Sniper's reply was entirely too calm for Scout's liking. "I don't need to cut through it, mate, I just need to weaken it…"
A harsh slam of weight against the doors followed these words, leaving the door hinges screaming in protest as the handle held them back…but just barely. A sizable crack jutted across the circumference of the broom handle, and Scout could instantly read the writing on the wall.
Apparently, Sniper could as well. "One more hit should do it, don't ya think?"
The runner didn't bother waiting to find out, and scrambled away towards the back of the room, climbing or leaping over boxes as he went. An old steamer trunk, partially hidden by several cases of ammunition caught his eye, and he struggled over to it, praying it wasn't full.
The soles of his feet were starting to throb painfully now, and without his socks, it was likely that he would have left a trail of blood, leading Sniper right to him.
Finding the trunk only partially full of random linens he didn't bother to identify, the runner scrambled in, hearing the loud crash of Sniper throwing himself into the doors again. The clang of the metal shovel colliding with the ground followed immediately after, and Scout could hear Sniper's boots on the concrete floor as he entered.
"You've made a roight mess, haven't you?" Sniper's slightly amused tone was muffled to Scout's ears. He couldn't see a thing while inside the trunk, but the volume of the Austrailian's voice indicated that he was near the front of the room, probably looking at the broken glass.
"Scout? Come on, mate, you're just making this harder for both of us."
Some muffled sounds of rummaging and knocking. He must be checking boxes to find his hiding place, Scout realized, slightly worried.
"I wasn't really looking to play hide an' seek today, but I wasn't half bad as a youngin'." He sounded closer now. "And I've got all night to look for ya…"
This was bad, the younger man thought, wishing he could burrow under the linens without shaking the trunk. Sniper never gloated or monologued when he was shooting, he always said it was stupid to get distracted from the goal until victory was guaranteed. And to Sniper, that meant the target was either lying dead with a bullet in their brain, or they were completely helpless.
So where did that leave Scout?
Suddenly, the footsteps that were getting progressively louder stopped. "Roo…Roo, you're bleeding, aren't you?
Scout cringed. Of course a hunter and tracker like Sniper would notice even a little bit of blood. He might as well have left giant bloody footprints leading to his hiding place.
Sniper continued talking, his voice gentler and significantly less confident than before. "You shouldn't be hidin' alone if you're bleeding an' hurt, Roo."
The footsteps were even closer now as Sniper followed the occasional tiny splotch of blood. Scout held his breath, hoping that he hadn't accidentally left a bloodstain on the trunk, or else it was all over.
"Come out, ya stubborn little varmit, I promise I just want to help you." Sniper's footsteps remained in the vicinity now, it almost sounded like he was pacing.
Scout was tempted to emerge just to see what the man was doing, but his suspicions held him back as Sniper continued talking.
"It can't be good for you to walk with glass in your feet, 'cause, ya know, your running and all. If you come out, I'll carry ya back to your room, or to Medic so he can help you. Don't be stubborn, Roo."
His tone was almost pleading, but Scout's resolve became set again. If anyone saw Sniper carry him, the bet would be lost immediately. Even if no one did, Sniper may declare himself the victor once he had Scout in his arms for the agreed amount of time, and he would be right to do so.
Although he believed that Sniper would help him whether or not it secured him the win, Scout had no intention of giving up his position.
Instead, he settled into the trunk, winching when the sole of one foot brushed the wall, and waited. Maybe he would be able to get some sleep while he waited for Sniper to give up.
"ATTENTION! THE RED SCOUT IS MIA!"
Scout woke to The Administrator's voice booming from the loudspeaker in the storage room. At first, he panicked when he found himself in complete darkness, until he remembered the events of the previous day.
Shoving open the lid of the trunk, the runner took stock of the room. Sniper was nowhere to be seen, but the sunlight filtering through the one small window showed that the man had turned over a significant portion of the room. It was a wonder that he hadn't found Scout in his search.
Scout struggled out of the trunk, stretching his cramped limbs, as the announcement repeated over the loudspeaker. It took a minute for his sleepy mind to comprehend what was being said, but when he realized that The Administrator was talking about him, he moved to rush out into the hall.
If he didn't show himself quickly, then the whole compound would go into lockdown, and he did NOT want to explain why no one had been able to find him to The Administrator or Miss Pauling.
Unfortunately, when he tried to take a step several pinpricks of pain shot through his foot, causing him to wince. The glass, he realized, he'd never taken it out.
Still, if he remained in the storage room, no one would be able to find him, and the situation would only intensify. Gritting his teeth, Scout resolved to drag himself across the room to the doors, and then wait there for someone to find him. Preferably not Sniper, though Scout wasn't sure he could run away in his condition.
It was perhaps the slowest the runner had ever moved, as he leant on stacks of boxes, trying his best to keep his weight off the afflicted parts of his feet. Without the adrenaline fueling him to hide from Sniper the night before, the pain had become more intense, to the point his eyes began to water. It wasn't the worst pain he had ever felt, but every step pushed the glass further into his feet, and he was extremely relieved to reach the door.
As he stumbled out and immediately dropped to a seated position, Scout could hear voices approaching.
"Herr Sniper said he was here last, I really don't see how he could have lost him! Perhaps ve need to rethink our bets…"
Medic rounded the corner, with Heavy right behind.
"Nevermind, zhere he is!" The german walked over to him, his partner moving at a slightly more uneven gait behind him.
"Vhat are you doing sitting here, do you have any idea how long ve have been looking for you? Ve tried to keep it hidden, but The Administrator realized you were gone and escalated the situation greatly! You are very lucky we managed to stop the Spy from killing Sniper vhen he said he could not find you and-"
"Docktor, he is hurt." Heavy interrupted, gesturing to Scout's bloody feet.
Medic paused, mid-rant, to inspect the injuries. "Have you been walking?"
"I'm out here, aren't I?" Scout snarked back.
The German tutted, ignoring the runner's attitude. "Vell, this won't do! We've got to get you fixed before our match today, but luckily zere is time!" He seemed almost giddy at the thought of a new ailment to inspect, his previous ire all but forgotten.
"Misha, if you vould?" Without a word, Heavy bent down and scooped Scout up in his massive arms. The runner squawked in surprise but was ignored.
Medic was already planning, counting off steps on his fingers. "Ve should show everyone that he is safe first, lest Spy actually commits a murder today, zhen we vill proceed to my lab. I am sure the Medi-gun will do the trick, but ve may have to clean ze wounds first, ve shall see."
He glanced at Heavy as they walked towards the rec room. "Am I forgetting anyzhing?"
The Russian smiled at him. "No, you are thorough, as always, Docktor."
Scout groaned from his place in Heavy's arms. "Aw, c'mon guys, I'm right here!"
Medic shot him a venomous glare. "If you have problem with a man loving another man ve can just leave you here on the floor. Probably would be considered malpractice but I have been accused of worse."
"No, that's not-I'm not-I'm just the third wheel right now, alright? It'd be the same if one of ya was a chick!"
Medic continued to sulk, but Heavy chuckled, his deep voice echoing through the hall. "Now there is funny idea, one ov us as a woman."
"I mean, it was a little weird at first, the two of you together…but I kinda get it now."
Now Medic looked intrigued. "Oh?"
"Well, there's not a lot of options out here, in terms of ladies, anyways. There's just The Administrator and Miss Pauling and they're…not interested…"
Scout's voice trailed off as he thought of Miss Pauling and his repeated attempts to win her over. She had always been professional and polite when she turned him down, but he had interpreted this as hidden feelings for him for an embarrassing amount of time. Now, he couldn't think of her without cringing at how long it had taken him to realize that she simply didn't like him that way.
Banishing those thoughts, he continued "Anyway, you guys seem happy, so why not?"
"Hmm…vhy not, indeed." The German said pensively.
Heavy hummed slightly and then spoke. " Heavy must say, you and the Sniper seem like you would be happy too."
Scout stared at the man as though he'd claimed to be giving up sandwiches.
"Wha-what…?"
"It seemed you might be happy with him, like we are happy together." The Russian elaborated.
Scout was incredulous. "Me an' Snipes? Nah, man, we're bros, that's it!" He looked suspiciously at Heavy. "Why would ya think we were…ya know… into each other?"
The large man wouldn't look at him. "Heavy has said too much."
Scout pointed a finger at him. "No, no, you ain't said enough, man!" He swatted the part of Heavy's arm he could reach. "Start talkin!"
The man sighed heavily. "He is different when you are around."
Medic nodded eagerly. "Ja, that is true."
"What d'ya mean different?" Scout demanded, but both men shook their heads.
"Ve do not wish to speculate." Medic told him. "Besides, zis bet has made it difficult to see vhat either of you is truly feeling. Ah, here ve are!"
Scout couldn't press either of them further, as the men had reached the rec room. Before he could ask Heavy to put him down in hopes of preserving a little dignity, the man burst into the room, announcing loudly "We have found him!"
All heads snapped towards them, and Scout felt his face turn a little red. Spy scurried over, looking both furious and concerned.
"Where have you been?" He looked his son up and down. "What happened to your feet?"
"Nothin', just some broken glass. I'm fine." Scout replied in a short tone, but Spy was undeterred. "How did you get broken glass in your feet? Where are your shoes?"
"I-um…"
"Ze are stuck in ze hall, aren't ze?" Spy sounded considerably angrier now, but to Scout's surprise, instead of scolding him, the Frenchman turned on Sniper, who had been approaching them with a worried look on his face. "Zis is YOUR fault!"
"Spy, I broke the jars and stepped in the glass, not him!"
"Ah, but zey wouldn't have pierced your feet if HE hadn't taken your shoes!" Spy argued.
"Oh, piss off!"
Sniper ignored Spy's rantings and addressed Scout, who was still sitting in a silent Heavy's arms.
"I looked for ya for an hour, mate, where were ya?"
Scout shrugged. "I can't tell ya that, what if I need to hide from ya again?"
Sniper looked frustrated. "Were you hiding all night?"
When Scout gave a little nod, the marksman groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Roo, what were ya thinking? Ya could've bled out, or gone inta shock at least!"
Spy crossed his arms. "Evidently, he wasn't thinking." His head snapped in the direction of the loudspeaker as the MIA alert rang out again. "Will someone shut zat up?"
Soldier nodded at Pyro, who gave him a little salute before the two rushed out towards the control room.
"Guys, it's fine, we still got hours until the match. The Doc'll look at my feet and I'll be fine by the time we have to fight." Scout gave Spy and Sniper a crooked grin, neither of whom seemed impressed.
"Vell, now you all know he iz alright, let us make sure you can run today, Herr Scout." Medic headed for the door, gesturing for Heavy to follow him.
"Wait!" Sniper stepped after them. "Give 'im here, it's my fault he got hurt, so I'll carry him."
He reached out to take Scout from Heavy, but stopped when both Scout and Spy yelled "No!" The Australian drew his hands back, looking slightly hurt.
Scout shook his head. "Nice try, Snipes, but I didn't sleep in that trunk just to hand you the win." He glanced at Heavy. "Or for him hand to you the win, I guess."
"You were in that bloody trunk?" Sniper looked startled. "How did you fit in that tiny thing?"
"He is small." Heavy put in helpfully. "Is very light too, no problem for Heavy to carry."
Scout glowered at him. "Not helping." To Sniper he said, "How did you not check the trunk, man? I fell asleep, I was a sittin' duck!"
"I didn't think you'd go that far on your bloody injured feet!"
Medic cleared his throat. "Speaking of vhich, I vould like to take a look at those, now, in fact. Thank you for your concern, Sniper, but ve vill manage."
With that, the two marched out of the room, taking Scout with them, who gave Sniper a wave and a little shrug over Heavy's massive shoulder.
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