"INCOMING!" The warning came just a second before the roof above him exploded into a shower of moist wood and old moss. As the debris powdered the brim of his hat and shoulders with decayed plaster, Sniper shot to his feet and took aim at the group of men below him.

A flicker of eyes towards his direction, the quick release of breath steaming his scope, time standing still.

BANG! The enemy medic's head snapped backwards as his limp body collapsed against the bomb, red blood smearing the blue surface. The man's colleagues had ducked to the gunshot from Sniper's rifle but quickly recovered, now fueled with anger at losing their healer who got so close to building an Über to aid in the push towards the second to last checkpoint. Sniper grinned. The opportunity handed itself to him on a silver platter, and he was taking it. Lowering his rifle, he stood at full height and waved.

"Ah, sorry there nurse," he shouted at the BLUs above the battlefield symphonies, all of whom were now looking up at him, "I mistook ya for an actual threat!" His jeer was cut short as another rocket shot straight through the area his head had been not one second ago. It, along with rapid fire bullets, peppered the wall behind him. Now would be a good time to find another hideout. Before one of them decided to try and get up here to deliver some karmic justice. Besides, he'd got their attention just long enough for-

"SCREAMING EAGLES!"

Air support. The sounds of body parts exploding apart and bouncing off the walls of the building followed Sniper's trek through the thankfully vacant halls. Even though he could feel a nasty splinter lodged in his right shoulder, that cocky grin just couldn't wipe itself off his face. Oh, if he had been a second earlier, or a moment too late, it wouldn't nearly be as satisfying! The expressions of rigorous attention, determined to reach that gray checkpoint and turn it into a flashing blue, only for every hope to die alongside their Medic. Every drop of blood and sweat that went into building that Übercharge to be made void in a single gunshot. Honestly, it was a work of art, and better men than him could perhaps tie together some haphazard meaning derived from the simplicity of the actions taken. About how it truly said a lot about man's nature or some high society hubbub like that. Sniper didn't really care. What he did care about was this: he'd bought his team some time to push the BLU team back, his old nest was now in shambles and no longer fit for protection, and that splinter in his shoulder really ****ing hurt!

Slinging his rifle onto his uninjured shoulder, Sniper took a pause, resting against the cool wooden wall. His heart, however, continued to hammer against his ribcage. The grin he held leveled into a reasonable neutral expression as he listened for anyone passing by. Nothing. Nothing besides the screams of rockets and men battling for dominance outside the walls, that is. He could relax for now.

Pushing himself off the wall, the marksman jogged down the musty corridors until he finally reached the main hub. There, he'd find a Medkit as long as no one snatched it before him. It'd take at least five minutes before one got teleported to replace the last. But sure enough, hovering and lazily bopping along in the far left corner stood a Medkit and an ammo pack. He could use both. It wasn't like there was a line for use.

Trotting over and grabbing the first aid kit, Sniper snatched up the ammo pack too, stocking up on the bullets inside. Now, this location wasn't too far from another high vantage point, the only issues he could see were if he ran into… well, anyone really. He gripped his kukri holstered to his hip as he popped open the Medkit. A deep lavender enveloped his arms and torso, seeping deep into his skin and bones and pushing out the splinter. That reassuring coolness followed along as he flung himself back into the fray to find the closest nest.

Into the open air and battlefield he went, and was met with a spike of volume. Whistling, wandering bullets grazing the air around him, ripping through ferns and low hanging branches. Far off jeers and jabs could only just be made out over the revving minigun held by Heavy, who was currently advancing towards the cart, once more surrounded by BLUs. The mountain of a man was trapped in a firing range as the enemies unloaded round after round into his flesh. Flesh that constant forced the bullets out and seemed to glow with the red beam at his back. A German demand rose above the chaos and the pair were engulfed in blinding lava as an Uber was popped. The perfect opening.

Sniper rushed by, keeping as low to the ground as possible and weaving his way through the brush. This place was one long sightline, and he'd be d*mned before his counterpart got to use it before him. As the manic laughter of Medic faded, along with the unfortunate goosebumps said laugh always causes(how many years has it been? Five?), the marksman arrived at his destination. Entering the slim staircase and ducking under a rotting board, Sniper rushed up and into the nest, into relative safety.

It was empty, thank goodness. Or at least it looked that way. Giving it one sweep with a hand against the wall removed most suspicions of a spy lurking about, but one could never be too careful. After that, Sniper grabbed one of the lonesome crates sitting in the corners and dragged it over to the boarded windows. Once in place, he brushed off the old moss and some strange black stuff he didn't really feel comfortable touching with his bare hands, and sat down.

Readying his rifle, loading a bullet into the cartridge, taking in a breath to steady his hands, Sniper got back to work.

The BLUs were scattered, which made things difficult. He could lose several targets after killing one simply through using his scope. Seconds were precious. Behind a far wall and just before the small overpass, Sniper knew the Engineer was setting up a dispenser, and maybe a teleporter. Had he run over with a toolbox? Unless the man popped his head out to gather more metal, Sniper would be wasting his time watching instead of sniping. Right, who else was out there?

The demoman and the heavy were passing through a narrow passage with too many beams to shoot them in the sparse intervals Sniper could see their shapes, and the pyro was currently fighting his Medic. Well, that was something. He shifted his body to face the distant pair and locked in.

Through the scope he could make out the feral motions of Medic, his bloodstained coat and bone saw whipping through the moderate wind as the pyro fought back with the butt of his shotgun. Medic would lose if he couldn't land a fatal blow within the next few seconds. Or if he didn't have some support.

One second later a thunderclap echoed through the battlements and the Pyro's head exploded into bits of pale bones and squirting arteries. The body collapsed and Medic didn't hesitate to retreat and find some health or a teammate to "bond to". Sniper grabbed his rifle's bolt handle and unloaded the used casing, the metal chiming in a tune he would never get tired of. It always lightened his mood. Though his mood wasn't exactly dampened anyway.

Borneo was a nice, even battleground. Plenty of hideouts, different levels of elevation for natural cover, a cool, temperate atmosphere that never got too hot or too cold. It might not be a desert, or part of the Badlands they typically fought for, but this was nice, with a nice overcast sky to block out the harsh noon sun. And in all fairness… Sawmill had been nice too, whenever that torrential rain stopped, though those times were few and far between. And now. Well, that place wasn't as nice as it used to be.

Sniper shook away his thoughts, focusing back towards the ground below him as he spotted a speeding red blur shoot across the path. Then it went towards the cart, out of sight.

"Ya could've made that shot, y'know." Sniper stiffened, then drooped with a groan.

"Last I checked," he began, shrugging up his rifle and pointedly not acknowledging the fact that he'd been snuck up on, "he's on my team, and you ain't."

"Still could've spooked him," something heavy rested on his shoulder, "like shootin' the ground by his feet or somethin' like that, give him an adrenaline boost cause he freakin' needs it."

"That a hint of resentment I hear?" Sniper mused, shrugging off the elbow using him as a table, "don't like having competition?" A scoff from behind him.

"That weirdo has nothin' on me, can't even make a full lap around the map without beggin' for breath."

"Hmm," Sniper hummed mostly out of courtesy. Taking little friendly breaks during their work hours didn't really sit right with him. What also didn't sit right was the light tap of something metal against the back of his head, knocking his hat loose.

"Boink."

"So are you going to kill me or what?"

"I'm gonna, I'm gonna!" Scout said indignantly, liked trying to convince someone that he was planning on finishing his homework but later and later meant an hour before school started.

"By boring me to death?"

"If by boring you mean beating then yeah."

"Aces."

Another tap to the back of his head.

"Boink." And another one, a tad harder than the other. "Bonk." It continued for some time with Sniper's hat slipping over his eyes and his patience growing the slightest bit weary of what could hardly be called Assault With A Deadly Weapon. On and on and on and, how long has this been going? He flicked his hat up with a sigh.

"Boi-"

"We're going to win at this rate if you keep wasting time." Sniper finally droned, zoning back in and turning around to face the runner.

The young man stood tall wearing a blue vest and white tee, the pair of golden sunglasses he wore everywhere, and an amused, slightly smug smirk. In his wrapped hand was an aluminum bat, smeared with something dark that reflected the overcast sky. Scout's nose wrinkled as he held back a bigger grin.

"Uh huh, yup, wastin' time, that is what I do, totally, yeah, mhmm."

"Yeah," Sniper stated, "wasting time up here not killing me when your team probably needs your help on the front lines." That smirk only grew, which in turn made Sniper's confusion and annoyance grow. "Seriously, if you're not going to that, why'd ya come up here?"

"What? 'M I not allowed to hang out or somethin'?" Scout shot back, cocking an eyebrow as his smirk twisted into a cocky grin. He tapped Sniper's chest with the tip of the bat. "Bonk."

"Not when we're on separate teams, I shouldn't have to explain this to you-"

"Screw the "separate teams" bull, okay? Demo and Soldier got ta be all chummy when everyone was on different sides and crap!"

"Yeah, and guess how long that ended up lasting." Sniper mumbled, leaning on his palm. Scout simply shrugged, not caring in the slightest. "Listen, if you don't leave soon, I'll have to kill ya first-"

"Woah, woah, woah," Scout interrupted, holding his hands out as if to calm the already calm Sniper down, "who said anythin' about killin' me? I'm the guy's who's gonna do the killin' here, brother, not you!"

"Then take a swing already!" Sniper said tersely. Once again, Scout's grin got smug though this time he put on a judging demeanor.

"HHhhmmmmmm I dunno…" Scout hummed, stroking his chin in an exaggeratedly posh fashion, "I kinda wanna waste more time, y'know?"

"Oh go waste your time somewhere else-"

"BLU TEAM HAS BEEN AWARDED ADDITIONAL TIME," The booming intercoms spaced around the arena crackled to life as the Administrator's haughty voice rose up. Sniper paused, then spun around to peer out the window. Sure enough, the small glimpse of the once gray checkpoint was now a glowing blue.

"Aw h*ll."

"Wow, and I didn't even need to help those chucklenuts," Scout said, scratching his nose. Didn't need to help… wasting time… Sniper groaned, and facepalmed.

"You came up here to distract me, didn't you?"

"Whhhaaattt?" Scout gasped, "Me? I'd never dream of doin' somethin' like that, no way!"

"You cheeky little wanker." Despite himself, Sniper grinned. It was clever, he'd give the kid that.

"Dunno why you're callin' me that when you're the one always hidin' up and away from everyone else," Scout retorted, pushing his bat into Sniper's chest, "who knows what gross crap you do all alone." Giving the runner what looked like a side-eye, Sniper instead eyed the exit. Making it before Scout could react was impossible, his reaction time was somethin' superhuman half the time. But fighting him in such a closed off location was just as bad. Either way, Sniper was screwed. Just had to figure out which one would get him less screwed as a result.

"Sounds like projection, mate," he said, leaning on the wall as his hands rested by his sides and the kukri strapped to his hip.

"You're projectin'!" Scout shot back, "you said it first, not me! I'm just pointin' out the fact that-"

Sniper lunged. The knife had been whipped up and thrust towards Scout's chest. But Scout was faster. He was always faster.

The runner threw himself to the right, dodging the marksman's attack. Not a second later a painful blow strong enough to send Sniper stumbling into the far wall hit his side. He ducked the second swing, the bat cracking the wood above his head. That would've broken several ribs. He swung his knife upwards but hit open air as Scout brought his arms back.

"Dang, dude, you're gonna have to be faster than that if ya wanna land a hit," Scout teased, twirling his bat like a cane. Taking the advice, Sniper pushed himself up and immediately ducked again as Scout swung. But instead of rising, he planted his hands on the ground and kicked his leg out.

While he didn't sweep Scout's legs out from under him, he did force the runner to back up, giving him an opening. He grabbed his kukri, shot to his feet, and thrust the blade towards his attacker. In a blur, Scout smashed his bat down and knocked the blade away. Again he attacked but instead Scout leapt to the side and Sniper held back a cry of pain as the metal beam collided with his stomach. But he couldn't keep from doubling over. As he bent, the bat came swinging down to crack his skull open. Instead it hit his arm as he whipped it up. Pain exploded in his forearm as the Scout tried bringing his weapon back. But Sniper instead grabbed the aluminum and yanked it down. The sound of skin hitting skin rang out as Sniper delivered the hardest uppercut he could manage.

The runner's head snapped back and stumbled away, clutching his mouth in pain. But even then, with the aviators knocked loose, Scout's eyes were electrified with enjoyment.

"Workin' on your weak *ss arms, old man?" He teased, wiping away the blood from his busted lip. Then he lunged and bodied the marksman, sending them to the ground. Sniper in vain tried to block the volley of punches aimed at his face. One mean hit collided with his nose and he felt something crack. As the world blurred and spun, he flattened himself on the floor and kicked. The kick landed. Scout was thrown off and Sniper snatched up his kukri and rounded on the fallen runner.

Instinct took over as he used his weight to sink the blade deep into the runner's belly. Of course Scout shouted in pain. Of course claw-like hands grabbed his hair and yanked so hard he was seeing white and feeling something warm trail down his face. And of course he responded by pushing the blade further into the kid's body until the only part of the knife still visible was the hilt.

"S-S**t," Scout all but whispered, the fingers digging into Sniper's scalp falling away, "ya ch-eat. ****in', cheatin' b-b*****d." Sniper only sat up, sweeping his bloodied hair back.

"Ain't cheating; you're the one who wanted to use weapons." As he shakingly got to his feet, the sight below him started to sink in, just like the blood sinking into the floorboards Scout was pinned to.

The runner in question was trying and failing to pull the knife out from his stomach, hand wrappings slick with crimson and dark strands of Sniper's hair. The white shirt he wore was swiftly being corrupted by a bright red stain.

"You lunged first," Scout whined, teeth gritted as he pulled the hilt. Then he audibly sighed and dropped down, his head hitting the wood with a light thud. "Fre-akin' fine, okay? Y-You win, now shoot me so I c-can get you back."

"I don't know," Sniper drawled, straightening his dark blue shades, "I kinda feel like wasting some time, maybe going to find a Medkit."

"Oh come on!" Scout cried, flopping his hands out and looking quite pathetic as his skin grew paler and paler. "There's, like, t-two other rounds after this, we got tons of t-time to beat each other to death! C'mon Snipes, just use your SMG!"

"I don't have that on me today," Sniper mumbled, watching the ground grow redder and redder. He frowned. Did he hit an actual vital spot or did he just damn Scout to die from incredibly slow blood loss. Scout groaned which devolved into a coughing fit. "Why don't you just use your pistol?"

"Lost it."

"You dumb*rse."

"Go **** yourself."

"Alright, Oi will," Sniper swung his rifle onto his shoulder and began to drag his battered and bruised body towards the exit. Behind him, Scout backtracked hard.

"Waitwaitwait, please just shoot m-me man! This freakin' hurts, ya just gonna leave without your stupid knife?" Sniper looked over his shoulder at the kid looking at him with- oh h*ll no, not again! That pitiful, sad look Scout was giving him was not going to work today, no sir! Yes, he looked to be in actual agony and perhaps Sniper was the one who technically started the fight but this was war and war left little time for chivalrous actions and mercy killings… alright, maybe this wasn't real war and maybe he did have the time to spare but a little lesson in not losing your pistol would do anyone good-

Scout started coughing again, this time hard enough for spurts of blood to spray with every wheeze and hack. Sniper scowled, then roughly sighed.

"Okay, fine, I'll put ya out of your bloody misery," he grumbled, slipping his rifle off and ignoring the relief that flooded Scout's face. Tiny b*****d.

"T-Thanks man."

"Shut up," Sniper mumbled as he lightly placed the barrel on the runner's forehead. Right as he was about to pull the trigger, Scout raised his hand.

"Hey," he weakly stated, a side grin forming on his pale face, "no hard feelings?" Sniper paused. Then he shook Scout's grime covered hand.

"No hard feelings." The moment he let go, Sniper pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

"...Did you s-seriously forget to reload?"

"Ah shut up," Sniper sneered, grabbing a bullet from his vest's front pocket and placing it in the rifle's empty cartridge, "least I didn't lose my rifle."

"Can't believe how actually dumb you are."

"Shut up, ya mongrel."

"Moron."

"Imp."

"Actual dumb*ss."

"Literal b*****d."

"**** you," Scout stuck his tongue out right before his head exploded. The empty bullet casing was ejected and this time was replaced with a fresh one.

"**** you too," Sniper said, unaware of the blue dot resting on his temple.

Three more hours of fighting, around seventeen deaths, and one long holdout later Sniper, along with the rest of his team, were heading back to the main base in the early evening. His feet dragged and his clothes were ripped and dirtied. He could Respawn to save a trip to the laundry room and an evening of sewing up the holes in his pants, but the idea of biting the barrel of his SMG, or whoever would lend him a pistol, sickened him.

Respawn, or simply the polite way of saying suicide, was a concept that everyone had trouble embracing. Some, like himself, couldn't embrace the fact that their one way ticket to the void, or Hell, was no longer so permanent. Maybe it was because he'd been the very first to experience that white space only to be dragged back with a shaky sense of self and memories that jittered and spun. It got better, the machine was Engie's pet project after all. But still, Respawn was a last resort only for the most dire of circumstances, and one that couldn't be taken for granted.

Most disagreed. The creation of the machine had made a lot of them view death as a mundane consequence of their bad luck or lack of skill, like a red card in a football match. Or better yet, a get-out-of-jail-free card.

When dealing with a hangover so strong it would kill lesser men, Demo would bite the bullet, literally, and Respawn to get rid of it. Medic would Respawn to refresh himself after a long, sleepless night of experiments and things Sniper didn't want to imagine. Soldier… well, he was Soldier, was an explanation really necessary?

Scout Respawned often too. And over the most trivial things. Dirty clothes? Respawn. Headache? Respawn. Someone blew up the toilets and they wouldn't be fixed till morning? Okay that one was understandable. But the kid would just keep taking the easy way out when given the option. No matter how many arguments they got into, Scout wouldn't care.

Speaking of Scout, the RED one finally joined the group, walking up and keeping pace with Heavy, talking about something Sniper couldn't hear. The man had been their scout for around a month now, maybe more. He never slouched, always holding himself like a tin soldier. He never spoke much, and whenever he did it was quiet and with few words. The man was respectable, Sniper got along with him fine, everyone did. But the bloke had about as much personality as a plank of wood.

"Ack! Me feet are killing me!" Demo complained ahead of him as the large sheet door opened before them. The battered, tired men enter the locker room, stumbling over to their lockers and putting weapons away. As Sniper unlocked his own and began to place his spare ammo inside, a sound of acknowledgement arose behind him.

"Ah, you're gettin' autobalanced, son?" Engie asked someone, and when Sniper turned to check, it was the scout. In the man's hand rested a blue letter with a white stamp: Announcement of Autobalance. The scout nodded, his blond hair waving with the motion.

"Seems so," he said. The man was American, Sniper knew that, but from where was still a mystery. If he had to guess, he'd say the west coast. The scout grabbed his things out from the locker he just placed them in. All around were noises of disappointment.

"Are you sure we can't just keep you?" Medic mused, slipping off his tattered coat. "It's nice to not have mein name called for every little cut and bruise." Engie nodded along but the scout shook his head.

"They already moved my belongings to the BLU base, and I'd rather not risk being fired for not following orders." He slipped his weapons back on and quietly shut the locker.

"Do not forget jacket," Heavy stated as Sasha was being examined for scratches.

"I haven't, but thank you."

"Will look forward to killing you tomorrow."

"As do I. Later." And with that the now BLU scout left the lockers and towards his designated home for the time being.

"Hmph," Soldier huffed, slouching at the door the man walked out of, "I wanted to shoot Scout more, once for every medal of mine he insulted, which was all of them!"

"And when did he do that?" Demo asked, snatching the spare scrumpy he kept in his locker.

"Earlier!"

"Which earlier?"

"Last year!" As Demo tried explaining to the patriot that last year was too long to count as "earlier", Sniper grabbed a new scope from his locker and shut it, thinking. Autobalance was something everyone went through and so no one really had the right to complain. Though Scout would still complain. Often, in fact, each time he showed up on his "enemies" territory AKA at Sniper's van he'd ramble and rant about how sick he was of being tossed around like a hot potato and wondering out loud why he was switched more than everyone else. Now Sniper had no idea if that was true or not, he didn't pay too much attention to the time spans between Autobalances. But this time was by far one of the longest. Even during the switch both Soldier and Medic had had their own Autobalances which were switched back before Scout's. So maybe he had a point.

But now, the kid was going to be part of the team again, and Sniper couldn't help but be excited, just a tad. It'll be nice to bear witness to the complete chaos Soldier and Scout bring. They brought out the worst in each other and it was hilarious. Sure, they always got hurt from it, and most of the time dragged some innocent bystander into the mix(oftentimes that was him), but listening to the exaggerations Scout created of the situations Sniper was there for and to know that the kid actually believed the exaggerations was something to behold. And besides that, there was something he wanted to talk about, something that would get the runner just as excited. All he had to do was wait for Scout to show up.

The locker room door was thrown open, the heavy door slamming against the tiled wall with a deafening BANG! With every conversation thoroughly interrupted, everyone turned to spot the man of the hour, Scout, wearing an irate expression. Before anyone could ask why he looked so angry, Scout's eyes darted around the room before locking onto Sniper. They narrowed.

"Well, hey Scooter, long time no see-" Engie started to say but Scout shoved right past him, making his way over to Sniper like a raging bull. The sight of the smaller man downright fuming was strange enough that Sniper didn't realize how close he'd gotten until he stood only a foot away. Then Scout whipped his arm around and slapped Sniper directly across the face.

The shocked voices of his teammates were drowned out by Scout's own shouts of anger.

"You complete ****in' pile of dogs**t!" Scout spat, grabbing Sniper's vest and shoving him into the lockers.

"Why are you yelling at me?" Sniper tried to say over the runner's enraged shouts without raising his own voice. Scout only glared harder.

"Don't act like you don't freakin' remember!"

"It's not an act when you suddenly come up and start wrinkling my bloody shirt," Sniper grumbled. "If this is about me pinning ya to the floor with the knife I thought we agreed on no hard feelings."

"This ain't about that, idiot! Use your freakin' stupid wombat brain for once and think long and hard!"

"Oh, okay!" Sniper sneered, grabbing Scout's wrist and trying to pry the runner's hand off. "Let's see, I have a half-pint squealing at me for some perceived slight I don't remember causing, said half-pint won't tell me why he's so mad, and even if I did end up doing something, it's probably because we were on opposite teams!" Sniper glared, matching Scout's animosity. "Or are you just mad that you were on the losing team for the fifth time in a row!" The kid's glare darkened, and the grip on Sniper's vest grew so tight the marksman felt himself being raised.

"You threw a ****in' jar at the ****in' cart while I was pushin' the ****in' cart!"

Oh. Oohh. Sniper tried having the decency to at least look sorry. Heavy decided to step in.

"Scout, I am sure Sniper did not mean to hit you with jar." The words had no effect, Scout was still glaring at him and didn't seem to have any intention of letting him go without some response. He silently sighed.

"Look, kid, I didn't see you in there, you were surrounded by your teammates, how was I supposed to know where you are and where you ain't?" Wrong answer. Scout pushed him further into the locker, drawing close enough for Sniper to make out the hellfire behind the aviators.

"My ****in' mouth was open, you d**k!" Everyone, including Sniper, winced.

"Ah h*ll, look, I di- sorry about that, Scout."

"You better be!" The runner barked, his voice still ringing with anger but he still stepped away, letting Sniper go. "I had to Respawn twice just to feel clean again!"

"Sorry 'bout that, kid, honest." Sniper mumbled, rubbing his neck. Yeah, okay, that would make anyone upset. "Should've at least waited or double checked to make sure you weren't there."

"D*mn right," Scout nodded, arms crossed. Though it seemed the apology eased back the wrath showed Sniper's way only to spike once more when Demo decided to open his big mouth.

"Bloody h*ll, a wife's scorn sure is one mighty weapon," Demo piped up, merriment gleaming in his eye, "have to keep the mistress content, don't we Sniper?"

"What the h*ll did you just say about me?" Scout snapped around to face the Scotsman, who was currently wheezing into Soldier's shoulder. "Why don't you bring you stupid one-eyed *ss over here and say it to my face, huh? To ****in' scared to face a real man!?"

"Scout, calm down, he's just teasin' you," Engie tried explaining only for Scout to round on him, growing madder by the second.

"Oh yeah, sure, take his side again! I see how it is, and I don't care! You can go sit on a freakin' spinning drill for all I care, which I don't! At all!"

"Scout-"

"Shut the **** up, Spy!" Was the last thing Scout spat out before Sniper dragged him out of the room, the laughter of their explosive pair and the stern look of Medic following behind. "What the h*ll, man?"

"You're getting too worked up over this, Jay." At his name, Scout's snappishness all but faded, leaving a grumbling, slouching man in its wake.

"They were bein' a bunch of jack*ss's," Scout pouted, "freakin' callin' me a wife like they ain't half the man I am." Sniper didn't respond. Demoman had just been teasing. Just poking fun like everyone else did to everyone else. No one was safe. That was all it had been.

"It's just poking fun, Bilby, we all do it. And don't act like your insults are high class," Sniper shot down the runner's attempt to rebuttal before it began, "I've heard you say some of the worst s**t known to man, don't go being a hypocrite."

"I ain't a hippo-crate!" Scout grumbled, "and Demo's a jerk, I bet he's a freaky Peepin' Tom with the kind of crap he pulls."

"Well that's an accusation and a half," Sniper mused, "Have you considered that maybe you got soft? Been five years and Demo never changed. He's always poked fun. I'd even say that it's a good thing everyone's riffing on each other again." Banter and jeers were commonplace before The Sawmill Incident. Everyone took potshots and low blows, even Spy would simply call someone's mother a whore on occasion. None of it was taken personally.

But after Sawmill, and even after Scout's revival, there was a… stiffness to everything. Insults were half-*rsed, and the ones that could cut someone down were used for that exact purpose instead of the jovial tone it should have been used for. So really, harsher insults with humored tones were what everyone needed to get back to normal. Or as close to normal as possible. So Demo's teasing towards him, or both of them, was just that. Just teases that didn't mean any real harm.

Scout didn't seem convinced.

"Yeah, whuddever," he said, kicking a stray bullet on the floor, "maybe I'm soft or some s**t but, like… it's still freakin' outie, y'know what I mean?"

"Not really."

"Like, it's, how the heck can I explain this?" Scout squinted in thought. Sniper grabbed his shoulder.

"How about you go get cleaned up before trying to explain anything, and once you don't smell like a wet dog we can talk." Sniper stated, already walking away towards his van. Scout scoffed.

"I don't need a freakin' shower, okay? I'll just Respawn and shove my s**t in my room, those jerks don't deserve to see my handsome face again. Least not till dinner."

"Do what you want, I need to get patched up. And once you're done, come out to the van. I got something to tell you about."

"What is it?" Scout suddenly appeared at his side again, looking up at him with curiosity and excitement. Sniper shoved him away with a grin.

"I ain't telling you until you aren't stinking up the bloody place like an open sewer grate."

"Ey, **** you, okay!" Scout shot back, a hint of laughter in his words, "you did, like, half of this to me, you can't complain."

"Anything I did you erased with Respawn, which you should be doing again right now!" Sniper started walking again, calling over his shoulder. "Just get yourself clean and we can talk more."

"Okay fine, but that thing you were talking about better be worth it!"

"It is, just go already!" With that, Scout flipped him off, spun on his heels, and darted off to go die somewhere. Sniper turned and continued to walk on, thinking. Or at least he would have if his name hadn't been shouted.

"Yo, Sniper!" Scout shouted down the hall. "No hard feelings about the jar!"

"...No hard feelings, mate!" Then Scout disappeared, and Sniper was left to do as he pleased.

"No, no, Orion begins at that star, not that star!" Sniper pointed at the same star he'd pointed at over six times at this point, hoping his companion would get the picture. But he didn't. Again.

"...I still don't freakin' see it, dude." Scout stated, looking up at the night sky with a confused expression. "You sure that bunch of stars ain't a con- consta- conch-shell-lotion?"

"Constellation."

"That's what I said!"

"Ya got a weird way of saying constellation then."

"You have a- ugh! Whatever, stars are boring anyway, just exist to make you feel worthless." Scout sat up, looking around at the trees surrounding the base. "When's the owl gonna show up, man? It's been hours, I thought that was the whole point of this!"

"He should if you keep your voice down." Sniper pointedly said. He then grabbed the back of Scout hoodie and tugged. "And there's a chance he won't come around, he hasn't gotten used to you yet, just me. C'mon, all we can do is wait at this point." Scout dramatically sighed, but let himself be tugged back onto lying on the van's roof. He sidled up to Sniper, staring back up at the sky.

"So where's Orion again?"

"...Instead of me pointing out the same formation of stars that you can't find no matter how much I point them out," Sniper began, feeling the icy glare Scout aimed his way, "how about we talk about something different, because I'm getting tired of talking about the stars."

"Well, what else should we talk about then?" Scout asked. When Sniper shrugged, Scout groaned. "Ok, well, that owl of yours needs a name, we could come up with some of those. Or talk about… uh… names?"

"Alright, what should his name be?" The nameless owl had been the main attraction for their meeting, though at this point it wasn't clear if the feathered hunter would show up. He'd been a timid sort, revealing himself when Sniper had been carving up a rabbit he'd caught. One rabbit leg later and the bird would now swoop down from time to time to say hello. And say hello a lot. Sniper had never known such a talkative owl. Once, he'd even let Sniper lightly pet the top of his head. He'd wished he'd taken a photo of that moment. The owl was just a little guy, smaller than the more famous of its kind. And he was adorable. Sniper might love dogs, but birds were something special. He was something special, and thus deserved a special name.

"Well, it has to be something good," Sniper decided, "can't be some boring name like Jake or Bert. Not lazy either."

"Okay, well, what about, like, naming him after someone?" Scout asked, sitting up once again. "Like, uh, what about your dad? Wanna name him after-"

"No, oh no." Sniper shook his head. "That owl ain't a Jonathan, no."

"Well geez, okay," Scout mumbled, "Uhhh, anyone else ya can think of?"

"...Don't think he should have a hand-me-down name, he's a unique little blighter, should have a unique name."

"Unique, unique, ummmmmm… Mr. Feathers?"

"Too bland, and too formal."

"Hooty?"

"Boring."

"HootHoot?"

"That sounds like something a baby would call 'im."

"Dr. FlipFlapper?"

"Not a chance."

"Lord Percival?"

"Percival?" Sniper repeated. Scout shrugged.

"It's a fancy-scmancy name, y'know, I have it, it'd be a good name."

"...Your name's Jeremy."

"Middle name, moron."

"...your middle name is Percival?" Sniper laughed. The night made it hard to make out expressions, but that didn't stop him from making out the darkening of the runner's ears.

"Yeah! It is! Got a problem with that, Buster?"

"Bloody Percival," Sniper chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, that's a hoot."

"Freakin' hoot, freakin'... Theodore Hootsavelt?"

"Engie's already got a bear like that." Sniper replied, his laughter finally dying out.

"Bartholahoot? Aghootstus?"

"Aghootstus~" Sniper grinned, "oh that's fun."

"So we namin' him Agh-"

"No."

"What do you want from me, man?" Scout cried out, running his hands through his hair as Sniper laughed. "I'm given' ya all these cool freakin' names! And you ain't given' any!"

"I'm trying to think of some, ya gremlin! You're on the right track, I'm sure, we just have to-"

"Sir HootsALot?"

"SIR HOOTS-" At that, Sniper started coughing, unable to take a breath. To his right Scout was trying to ask if he was okay and give his back several solid slaps.

"Lay off! I'm fine!" Sniper said, grinning ear to ear. "That's it."

"That's what?"

"His name! Sir- Sir H-" Sniper couldn't finish it without snickering. "It's perfect!" Scout then leaned back, puffing out his chest with pride.

"Heck yeah that's his name! I got great names, the best!"

"No, they're the worst," Sniper managed to squeak out, "you're just the best at making such stupid names they circle back to being amazing!" Scout opened his mouth to retort, paused, and just ended up looking confused.

"I, uh, you're welcome?" Sniper nodded, then sighed.

"Yeah, the only problem is I don't think he'll come around tonight. We probably got too loud."

"Rats." Scout pouted, scratching at the grooves in the van's roof, "I wanted to see him."

"I'm sure he'll come around once he sees you with me long enough, he did show up when you were a BLU after all."

"Yeah, everything always happens when I'm a BLU. Or when you're a BLU and I'm a RED. And it keeps freakin' happenin'."

"I'm not the only bloke you know, literally anyone else is there to yap to."

"They sure don't act like it," Scout grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest. He then shoved his face into his forearms, making it hard to hear him.

"...It's been five whole freakin' months, Mick," The runner said. "Five whole months and people're still pussyfootin' around me, like… I dunno."

"Think you could get clearer?" Sniper asked, sitting up as well. Scout shrugged, the top of his face showing the clear confusion the runner felt and spoke.

"Like, like Engie. He, like, he acts nice and everything. H*ll, he is nice, but not in the easy way, y'know? Like, it's stiff. And makes me think he's tryin' to get me to leave as soon as possible. And Demo, like, he's better. Way freakin' better. But he does that too, when we're alone in the same room or somethin'. Or me askin' for somethin'."

"...Well, they were the ones who…" Sniper trailed off, though Scout still got the idea, "so it's going to take some time for them to welcome you back with open arms."

"I've said sorry though!" Scout exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "And nothin's freakin' workin'! And it ain't even them, Heavy's the same way and I never did anything to him, now did I?"

"I don't think so?"

"No, I didn't! And yet that fatso is actin' like I got chicken pox or some s**t, won't talk to me unless it's to tell me to **** off."

"Maybe you did something after Sawmill to him, that… what happened there isn't the end-all-be-all for us, Jay, things are happening here and now and the lads are along for the same ride as us." Sniper paused, thinking up his next words. "...Just give them time, I'm sure they'll come around. And stop jumping down their throats at every chance you get!" Scout scowled, looking away, "insulting them or being rude will only get them to distance themselves more, and one day they might decide to stop giving you second chances."

"So I'm just supposed to lie down and take whatever they give me without fighting back?"

"No," Sniper shook his head, "just think longer and harder about which hills you're wanting to die on, because I bet most of them aren't worth the stubbornness you've been showing. Just pick your battles better and be patient, and I'll guarantee our team will start treating you like one of us again in no time." Scout chewed his cheek, then nodded. Sniper couldn't help but add one more note. "It would probably help if you stopped swiping their things without asking, too."

"It's not my fault Heavy's sandwiches taste so freakin' good." Scout grumbled. Then, the runner stood, stretching out his back.

"Ya ought to head back now," Sniper said, letting Scout pull him to his feet, "pretty sure it's nearing ten."

"But it's so far…" Oh no he wasn't! He wasn't going to get another handout just by whining.

"If it was such a far walk, I wouldn't be able to see your bloody room from here!" Sniper jabbed a finger to the window he knew linked up to Scout's room on the third level. Scout only whined more.

"It's such a far walk, though…" At that moment Scout yawned for a solid five seconds. Sniper forced down his own.

"You once traveled cross country to find me over the span of two days all the while without food, clean water, shelter, and nursing an infected arm wound. That distance right there is nothing compared to what I've seen you do before."

"But I don't have to do that now!..." Scout continued to whine, "why can't we just bunk for the night?"

"Because you get cuddly when you're tired," Sniper deadpanned. The runner's exhaustion seemed to disappear instantly.

"I don't get cuddly! There are two beds in there, pillows, and why would I share a bed when I got my own?"

"You tell me." Scout visibly bristled. The standoff lasted only five seconds before all of Scout's hot air faded, leaving him looking deflated and tired.

"...Can we please bunk for the night?" Oh for crying out loud, he sounded so small! It was a ruse! A scheme! Somewhere deep down Spy's sly, manipulative genes were starting to take over, this wasn't genuine. Not genuine!

…

"Fine, we can bunk," Sniper said, defeated. He held up a hand as Scout nearly jumped for joy, "but this is the only time this week I'm letting you sleep over, got it?"

"Deal!" Scout punched his arm and hopped off the van. The sound of the door opening and slamming shut echoed around him, leaving the marksman to regret his decision.

But then again, it was… alright, to know the place you're sleeping in wasn't empty. That anyone who made the fatal mistake of trying to break in would get a nasty surprise from either a bullet to the head or a caved in face. It… it was…

It was nice.

The marksman let himself slide off the roof and onto the soft forest ground. As he entered the van, the outside world was cut off, the door closed to the darkness surrounding the base. Closed to the watchful eyes of moths, bats, a little owl, and a slim, silent shadow.

Hello, ladies and Gents! I'm back! Did ya miss these two dorks? I sure did. This story is going to take a bit to really get into the meat and potatoes of the plot so you'll have to be patient. But don't worry, I'm finishing this story, just like the last. And as for Roses, I haven't cancelled it, but it's in a limbo state where I'm having trouble writing the chapters. So don't expect that to be updated frequently, this one is going to be my main focus unless I get burnt out.

Also, no accents this time around. It takes a long time to write the correct versions of words and I always seem to miss some phonetics so until I change my mind, it's non-accented dialogue, sorry if you guys liked that. I did too, it's just too much of a hassle atm.

Either way, I sincerely hope you enjoy what I have planned for this series, take care!- FiveBucks