Scout was starting to think Sir Hootsalot didn't actually exist. A whole freaking week of waiting and watching for that owl who never seems to show up when he is around. But Sniper swore the little ball of feathers was real, and his friend wasn't one for bullcrap when it came to animals.
The runner skidded to a stop behind a boulder, reloading his scattergun. Behind him, he could hear the enemy soldier blasting off his rockets in frustration of having lost him. Scout smirked, fixing the shades that had been slipping off his nose.
Still though, it could have been a hallucination or something weird like that. Strange things happen in forests, and stranger things happen to people who isolate themselves in said forests. And Scout had a bit of experience when it came to seeing things that weren't actually there. Or, at least that's what made the most sense. Thinking back on it, that time he was isolated in the woods sporting a hangover, dehydrated to Hell and back, and basically a walking stick figure, nothing else really made sense besides him seeing things. But even then it was super fuzzy, all Scout could safely say he really remembered was a voice, his voice, telling him he sucked, which was probably his conscious. Probably.
Well, then again, Soldier claimed to hear voices of people who weren't actually there, and that guy's a loon. So either Scout was experiencing some out-of-body thing, a delirious delusion due to dehydration and dizziness, or he went crazy. Soldier Brand Crazy too. That's not a good thing. Scout wasn't itching to start housing rabid raccoons in his clothes or snack on woodchips left behind by their cardboard targets like a beaver anytime soon. Not that that would happen anytime soon anyway. It was nine whole months ago, a near year since he saw himself walking around(the fake version, not the real-but-not-himself-kind). So yeah, Scout was good, was clean, wasn't going to go Soldier Brand Crazy.
Speaking of soldiers.
"Too slow!" Scout whooped, leaping right over a rocket shot his way like a stallion at a show jumping competition. Landing with a spin, the runner gave the enemy soldier a little birdie before darting forwards. Behind him he could hear the explosions of the rockets the old fart sent. Not one met their target. Nothing would hit him today.
Though the sight of a shotgun being pulled out over his shoulder might say otherwise. Quicker than a comet, Scout dug his heels into the ground and sprung upwards, avoiding the buckshot spray. As luck would have it, the second shot was a miss as well, leaving a window of opportunity. And hey, Scout was ever an opportunist.
The moment he met the ground, Scout lunged at the man. The shotgun was elbowed aside and a sharp knee was thrust into the older man's jaw. Stunned and stumbling away, the soldier had no time to react as two barrels of gunmetal were rammed into his chest.
"DISMISSED!" Scout shouted in victory as the pellet-riddled body fell to the sodden ground. And with that, the young scraper sprinted away and towards the sounds of explosions. Man, today was looking to be a pretty darn good day if he said so himself, and he did!
The sun was peeking out from the thick blanket of clouds, casting patches of sunlight on the wooden structures and muddy paths. It looked like cheetah fur. The thought made Scout's grin grow along with his pace.
Cheetah's were fast, the fastest land mammal on the planet! But just how fast? Faster than him? Probably. But not for long.
His feet thundered against the planks of the building he ran through, each powerful kick and push speeded Scout up. Faster, and faster, until his chest began to sting and burn like ripping canvas paper. Until his breath slipped through the gaps of his gritted teeth like steam. Until the rush was all the runner could hear.
Explosions, shouts, and ringing ricochets couldn't push past the rush of wind and force surrounding Scout's senses. Soon the painful burns of his calves and heels melted into the ether, now existing as powerful machines of springs and engines, unable to slow or stop. Everything so loud but so quiet all at once was something so unique, so special. Before, he didn't know how to give this feeling into words, to give it power and presence. Now, he'd say it was a little bit of Heaven God let him take back to Earth, just as a reminder of what he would have once he really kicked the bucket. Something designed solely for Scout, unable to be experienced by anyone who wasn't him. Even if he tried to have others understand The Rush, they simply couldn't.
Back before they moved to Borneo, Scout had tried getting Sniper to join in on his morning jogs, or "Runs of Death" as Sniper so affectionately called them after the first and last time he'd joined. To his credit, at least Sniper tried, which wasn't something anyone else on the team could say. Not even Soldier because he had a routine, that although it involved some jogs, wasn't the same. He didn't run ten laps around the base, once backwards, and then make a final dead sprint as fast as physically possible to the battlements and back.
Sniper didn't even make it four laps before needing to stop. He tried, he really did try, and that fact alone shot Scout's respect for the guy through the roof. And that's already stupid high as is. The marksman had actually managed to keep the runner's pace for the first, by the second he was lagging, and once the third came around Sniper had disappeared.
Scout found him leaning against the base's garage door, gasping and sounding like he was about to keel over and die. It took three minutes(Scout counted) for Sniper to catch enough breath to wheezily groan about how if there was a person who represented cardio itself, he'd shoot them down without a moment's notice. Scout could only laugh in response, much to Sniper's feigned annoyance.
The rest of that day was blurry and forgetful. But that morning stuck out like… something that was hard to forget. Just the fact that Sniper not only didn't brush off Scout's request but followed through was freaking awesome! Nobody did that! And Snipes did! The guy was so freaking cool, wore cool hats, cool shades that he let Scout have, cool accent from a cool, dangerous place, knew about cool animals, and always seemed to actually listen when being talked to, which was maybe the coolest thing, and that was probably the reason why the other guys liked him more than…
Now hold on, that isn't fair, Sniper didn't even really hang out with the others as much. Yeah, he was Scout's best friend so they hung out way more. Hung out all the time, but by themselves, not really around the others. So maybe that's why the guys were stiff-ish around Scout still. Yeah! Scout just needed to be friendlier with everyone because they were a team.
But Sniper still got first priority, Spy could go slip on a banana peel and fall into a huge wood chipper for all Scout car-
Beep!
Scout's train of thought was ripped away as he felt a bullet rip through his side. And then three more. Biting back a howl of pain, the runner darted behind cover. That stupid mini-sentry! Scout hissed as he grabbed his side. Four freakin' little bullets. He wasn't bleeding that bad or anything but that stupid freaking mini-sentry! He needed a medpack, or dispenser. Getting to his feet, Scout shot the small machine a venomous glare before running outside its detection range. It still hit him again in the thigh. Great. There goes his freaking speed, all thanks to stupid mini-sentries made by stupid engineers who were cowards that only hid while real men did all the real work in the frontlines, like him.
Scout continued to limp and curse his way to where he last saw Engie's dispenser. If the Texan had any sense of self preservation, he better not have moved that stupid dispenser! Stupid freaking mini-sentries… he ought to hurry; should he be spotted injured like this, Scout was a dead man. Trotting faster, the runner made his way to a small, closed off corner. And thank goodness, Engie hadn't moved the freaking dispenser!
The man himself was busy fixing up a damaged sentry, having managed to upgrade it to a level three and not wanting to lose all the hard work. Whether the damage was by an explosion or sapper, Scout couldn't tell. As he finally flopped himself down at the dispenser's side, letting the vermillion mist engulf him, Engie straightened up, roughly sighing.
"Hey, Hardhat," Scout said, "did a spy sap your stuff?"
"Nah," Engie drawled, reloading his shotgun, "a demo's pill bounced into the nest. Luckily it was just my sentry that took some damage, but I'm running low on metal."
"Yeah, that sucks. But ya wanna know what else sucks?" Scout straightened up with a glare as Engie met his gaze, "the fact that the freakin' enemy engineer is ploppin' down mini-sentries! Like, what the h*ll!? They're so stupid, he could be puttin' down bigger sentries to actually defend something instead of existing just to piss me off!"
"Well, the mini-sentries have a pretty good tactical use, son-"
"Yeah, and that's to piss me off!" Scout interrupted, "ya don't see engies putting those things down for heavies or demos, nah, and they're always in the places I go. Hidin' in bushes of paths I use, or behind corners- and they ain't even that deadly, man!" Engie's jaw shifted. "Like what's the point, it's the stupidest thing! What's it gonna do besides pick off weak ****ers who were already stupid enough to not find a healing thing?"
"Well, her-"
"Stupid freakin' engineers with stupid mini-sentries, never do anything useful with them! AND- and get this! They don't even have to stick around for the sentry to work! It's a cheat is what it is! Why'd they get to have a cool weapon to annoy the s**t outta people without even being near it! Everybody else has to decide to pull the trigger when they shoot, but nooooo, sentries do the work for you! Let ya sleep easier at night, that it? It's lazy! It's lazy and cowardly, only freakin' stupid cowards use sentries, not man enough to-"
"Scout." Engie's voice left no room for rebuttal. He stood leaning on his sentry with crossed arms and a cross face. Behind them a pyro was shot dead by said sentry.
"Ya callin' me a coward?" Wait, what? No, he was calling engin-
Oh.
"Oh, oh nah, nah nah nah," Scout rapidly shook his head and hands, "I'm calling some guys cowards, like the engineers who use mini-sentries, and stupid, because mini-sentries are stupid. Why would you use a worse weapon that can only hit stupider dudes who only get hired for meat shield duties?"
"Well, I think that says more about your skills on the battlefield than my counterpart, son," Engie states with a tired sneer, "seeing as how it's made against you by your own admission." Scout cocked an eyebrow, the cogs in his mind turning overtime-
"OH go **** yourself you piece of trash!" Scout barked, jabbing a finger at his teammate, "at least I'm out there doing crap to help, like puttin' myself on the front lines instead of hiding behind sentries like a coward!" He stomped away, ignoring the tired look Engie threw him. "And yeah, I guess I am callin' you a coward! And guess what, we both know I'm right!" Cocking his pistol, the runner shot out, eyes darting around to find a BLU to kill.
It took Scout around two minutes to realize what had happened, and for him to facepalm. He did it again, didn't he? Once again, jumping down Engie's throat first chance he got, even when he pushed the Texan to defend himself.
D*mnit. Sniper was right. Again.
Well maybe he didn't need the others to like him, Sniper filled that role swell enough. Sure, it'd be nice to not feel like the outsider of the team for a while, but if they were expecting Scout to get down on his knees again and beg for forgiveness for crap he already apologized for, then think again Buster! He had nothing to apologize for! Everyone ripped each other to pieces, and until they didn't, he was ripping them right on back!
Stupid freaking Engineer and team. Stupid guys who walked on eggshells. Stupid Engie, stupid Demo, stupid Heavy, stupid Spy except not as stupid because he didn't walk on eggshells, he was just a jack*ss.
The runner followed the sound of shouts and pain before pausing. Rushing into the thick of the fight would definitely fill his supply for bodies, but he would end up dying too if he wasn't careful. And he didn't want to be careful, Scout wanted to get ruthless. He leapt over the fading body of Heavy. The guy got backstabbed. Again. Idiot. Why was everyone being an idiot today? Left, right, and center people were dropping like flies. Seemed like he was the only one really doing anything important like keeping the enemy team from moving the cart.
He growled, fingers tightly gripping the barrel of his scattergun. Which would feel more brutal? A hearty meat shot or a deep, powerful beating from his bat? Either one would be nice, but the crunch of a skull under his strength was something that no amount of bullets could top. Just to know that he wasn't nearly as week as the others thought. Yes. Bat it was.
Scout paused for a moment, reaching behind and grabbing the handle of his bat. Already he wanted to crack some bones with it. Only problem was that there was no one around to-
Wait, hold on…
Among the hills surrounding the battlements were deep bushes and winding tree trunks. It was difficult to make out what might be just a shadow, some overgrown vines, or a person. And maybe it was because Scout was looking for a person that he spotted the figure standing in the tree line's shadow. If it was a person.
He instinctively ripped his bat up and out, brandishing it like a broadsword. But the urge to fight pilfered into curiosity, and scrutiny. From the distance and lack of light, it was impossible to make out the color of the person's uniform.
Scout crept forwards, low to the ground and never breaking his stare down. If it was the enemy sniper then he was screwed. But he hadn't been shot yet, and he couldn't even tell if the person was looking at him too. The closer he got, the more confused he felt. They were stock still, holding something? Or were holding their hands in a weird way. And maybe they were blue colored, but that might just be the shadows playing tricks on his eyes.
Was that a spy? No, or… maybe? Scout crept even closer, grip tightening on his bat. His pulse was growing quicker.
Then the figure snapped its head around and the ghostly glowing eyes of pure white stared him down. Scout froze on the spot. A looming, shadowy figure. Piercing white eyes burrowing into his soul.
It couldn't be…
Fear was replaced with rage as the runner bolted at the creature, raising his bat to bring it down on the monster's fleshy head. The figure only watched, motionless as Scout tore his way through the forest to reach it. Ferns and vines were ripped away as the young mercenary wove through the trees, getting closer and closer.
"No, no, no, you are not goin' t- to… you ain't gonna…" Scout stumbled to stop, the anger melting away as he got the first good look at the stranger. Even with the distance between so substantial, there was no fooling the runner's eyes.
It wasn't a monster. It wasn't a man. Not an enemy nor teammate. It was a silhouette, standing in utter silence and stillness. A living shadow of what looked like… armor? Or metal.
"Hey, you need to leave, this isn't a place for civilians," Scout called out, still gripping his bat. He couldn't figure out the intentions of the being, and even then, strangers on the battlefield was a bad sign.
"I said you need to leave, right now!" Scout raised his voice, glaring the "man" down, using aggression to hide the tremor in his grip. "I'm not going to tell you again! You've got five seconds to make like a tree and leave!" Still nothing. Scout grit his teeth, glaring the shadow down.
"Five-" Gone. It… what!? The shadow had stepped back into the larger darkness behind it, and like that, it was gone! Scout raced to the spot it stood. "What!? What the h*ll? WHAT!? How!? Where the heck did you go!?"
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No glowing eyes, no bits of clothing or crap left behind. And even checking the soft ground for footprints revealed nothing but his own. Or if there were footprints, his confused movements trod all over them. He scowled. Well great, no clue where it went, or if it was even real! Groaning in annoyance, Scout scrapped his shoe on the closest tree trunk, removing the dark mud stuck to the bottom.
Of course the day he starts thinking about hallucinations… and right after reasoning that he wouldn't go Soldier Brand Crazy. Fantastic. Real freaking cool, Scout, spoke too soon once again.
"Okay, okay, don't jump to freakin' conclusions about this," the runner said to himself, "'M probably just dehydrated. And I'm in a forest and people get weird visions of crap in forests all the time. Just chill out, ya gettin' paranoid over nothing. Stupid forest hallucination bulls**t." Scout rubbed his eyes, sighing, before slipping his bat back into his bag.
There went his urge to kill, all because his brain pranked him again. Hopefully. He stared back down at the mud and the footprints. They all looked like his own, but from what he could tell, him and the apparition were around the same height, so it was possible that what he saw was real. Better to assume yes. If it turns out it was real and he never said anything to warn the team about it, then they would rightfully have his head-
The team! THE MATCH! He was outside the battlefield!
Scout broke into a sprint, cussing up a storm. Oh crap, how long had he been away from the fray!? Surely it wasn't too long! Not long enough to make a difference, right?-
In the distance a large explosion filled the sky as the building they were tasked to defend went up in smoke and debris. All around the announcement speakers sparked to life.
"YOU FAILED!"
"Aw crap," Scout mumbled.
The walk of shame back to home base was something that Scout hated with every fiber of his young being(though being killed during The Humiliation Round was worse). It was better to wake up in the base's Respawn room knowing you were in the thick of it, doing everything in your power to stop the enemy team from winning, because at least then you were spared the blame-pushing for a bit longer than if you survived, and you got first dibs to the showers and hot water. But no, he'd been far away from the final point, so far that no BLU even found him before the Humiliation Round ended. So now here he was, dragging his feet in the dirt along with his bat back to base.
Though since he was so far away from everyone, he was the final guy trudging back, which meant that no one was currently giving him s**t for being MIA last match. So that was nice. What was less nice was also the fact that he'd end up with ice cold showers once he got back.
Or not, if he Respawned. A single pistol shot would work wonders for both the distance he still had left to walk, the chance for at least luke-warm water, and his bumps and bruises to be healed instantly. Honestly, he didn't understand why some of the team were so squeamish about Respawn, it wasn't like they weren't killed all the time during work anyways. It exists now, and works pretty darn well too so why not use it to the fullest extent? They were kinda stuck with it anyhow.
The idea was tempting, very tempting, until Scout finally got within earshot of the base, and that just sorta fizzled out the Respawn idea. It just wasn't worth the energy of grabbing his pistol to avoid a walk that would take thirty seconds. Picking up the pace, the runner finally reached the base's entrance and shouldered the door open with a tired and dramatic sigh.
To the locker room he went, trailing mud behind for whoever does the cleaning around here to wipe up. It was probably a magic janitor, or an invisible janitor. Mice janitors? It would be so cool(and cute) to see little hamsters and mouses dressed in little overalls and button up shirts using tiny brooms and mops. Dang, that would make things so much more fun around here, less boring too. Oh, would they wear little rubber gloves too? How would they were the gloves, and did they have thumbs? He knew cats and dogs didn't have thumbs, but what about mice? He's seen mice hold things before like berries and cheese like in the cartoons Pyro watches. He'd have to ask Sni-
"THERE YOU ARE, MAGGOT!" The eardrum-bursting shouts of Soldier greeted Scout as he entered the locker room. "FINALLY SHOWED YOUR HAIRLESS FACE AFTER THE BATTLE WAS LOST! THANKS TO YOU!"
"Aw go shove it, Solly," Scout droned, sauntering over to his weapons locker. Soldier thought otherwise as he marched right up into Scout's personal space and began shouting more.
"You were MIA for the last two points, and right after wasting Engie's dispenser! I ought to court martial you!" Scout ignored the mad rambles as he shoved his crap in his locker, and briefly met Spy's gaze, the only other person left in the locker room. The masked man simply shrugged.
Jerk.
"Just what do you have to say for yourself, sissy boy!?" Soldier's voice bellowed in his ear, making Scout flinch. "And whatever excuse you have had better be GOOD!"
"Will you shut up!?" Scout bellowed back, squaring his shoulders and matching the hostility. "For cryin' out loud, I was investigatin' something, or someone that shouldn't've been on the battleground! Alright!? That good enough for you!?"
"What was it?" Of course that got Spy's attention enough to intervene. Giving the man an exacerbated glare, Scout started to speak.
Only to be cut off by the announcements.
"Team Meeting begins in ten minutes, Team Meeting begins in ten minutes."
"Meetin'? What meetin'?" Scout asked, trotting behind the other two as they made their way to the Meeting Room.
"We are being handed our winter contracts, I suspect," the Frenchman stated, lighting a cigarette, "and if you were being serious about your claims, I would suggest bringing it up at the meeting." They made their way to the large, spacious room to find most of the others seated around the large, oval table in the middle. Scout made a quick scan of the room before spotting his target.
One quick dart around the table later and Scout plopped himself down in the chair next to Sniper, sending the seat into a wobblefest. The marksman gave the runner a glance before once again looking bored out of his mind.
"So how'd you do last round?" Scout piped up, leaning back to plant his feet on the table. Sniper shrugged.
"Hit a few, got killed a few. Pretty uneventful, honestly." Sniper ran a hand through his hair, moving his hat back in the process. "Didn't end up seeing you a lot. Especially at the end, sort of disappeared off the radar, kid."
"Ain't a kid," Scout replied, looking around the table. Spy had taken a seat by Demoman, who was drinking his Scrumpy. Heavy and the doc were still missing, and Soldier and Pyro were… playing rock, paper, scissors for who got to sit next to Engie it looked like. And the builder was polishing his goggles, though he ended up locking eyes with Scout. His eyes narrowed, and Scout looked away, rubbing his neck.
"...What happened with Truckie?" Sniper quietly asked in a "what did you do this time" kinda way. Scout shrugged, hunching his shoulders.
"He was bein' a jerk, I was bein' a jerk, that's it. Nothin' else to it." Sniper raised an eyebrow.
"Bet if I went and asked him he'd say something different-"
"Might've called all engies' who use minis cowards, no big deal," Scout whispered quickly, "is not like Engie does, just got butthurt is all." At that, Sniper sighed through his nose, looking very much tired of Scout's bulls**t. He then leaned over till they were at eyelevel.
"You're going to have to apologize to him."
"I don't have to do anything!" Scout hissed, "he snapped back at me too, we're even!" Sniper simply gave him a look. "Quit looking at me like that, I'm not the one who should be apologizing for everything I do!"
"Ya are if you did something wrong," Sniper pointed out, placing a hand on Scout shoulder. "Seriously, thought you wanted them to like you again."
"Not if it's them wanting a freakin' doormat that they can walk all over," the runner grumbled.
"Don't think they do-"
"And I don't see none of them chasin' down that thing on the battlefield. Oh no, when I do it, I'm the one who lost us the game, but when someone else will do it, they'll be called "smart" and "cautious"-"
"What thing?" All the boredom written on Sniper's face disappeared, being replaced with a serious curiosity. "Like an animal or…?" Scout shook his head, letting his chair fall to the ground with a loud bang!
"I have no idea what it was," the runner whispered, leaning closer so the others wouldn't hear. "It was gone before I got close enough to know."
"What do you think it was?" Sniper asked.
"I… look, it wasn't- it ain't it, right? I thought it was something like it but nah, I just-"
"What're you two beaus yapping about?" Demo said loudly, cutting Scout off. The pair looked up to find the others staring right on back, the slam of Scout's chair having drawn everyone's attention.
"Uh-"
"Butt out, Demo," Sniper deadpanned. Before Demo could respond, the doors to the room opened. Heavy and Medic walked in, talking speedily about something Scout couldn't understand, and behind them was-
Scout felt Sniper nudge his arm with his elbow, but he already spotted her. Miss Pauling. Man, no matter how many times he saw her, it was as if he saw her for the first time all over again.
Soft, raven black hair. Cat Eye glasses that were always a little crooked on her little nose. Those beautiful jade green eyes that had no right(and yet every right) to be so captivating. Like an angel. A guardian angel. A guardian angel of death, but an angel all the same. An angel of death who also believed in ghosts.
Miss Pauling thought Scout was a ghost when she first met him again after his revival. He really just stumbled into her a couple days after waking up on her way to hand out contract payments. He'd tried talking but she ended up screaming shrilly and shot him point blank in the head. If Medic hadn't linked him to Respawn beforehand it would've been Goodnight Scout! Again. But luckily he wasn't a ghost, and Miss P hadn't murdered him for good, and she was also pretty frazzled about the whole situation. So much so that Spy had to hand out the payments because of the secretary's high strung state.
Many a sorry was said that day between him, Miss P, and Medic(though that mostly came from Miss P putting the doc on the backfoot with her anger at him once again not informing her of his experiments). But now, it was like nothing happened, and that everything was back to normal between them. Exactly like how it was.
Scout sighed wistfully, leaning on his hand in melancholic dreamland, completely unaware of the smirks and snickers his expression earned. She never told him her answer. And he'd been too scared to ask for it. Because what if she said no? What if it was just something she said to give him the strength to be the distraction? What if he was just being gullible again?
"Alright guys, this won't take long at all," Miss P stated, sorting the thick stack of files in her arms. Man, even her voice was heavenly. And he'd know. Though maybe Sniper knew too, he tended to ask questions about Heaven. A lot of questions. Questions that Scout was all too happy to answer- crap, wait, Miss P was still talking!
"-or winter contracts," she walked around the table, placing different files in front of his teammates, "if you have any questions or concerns, please contact me before you start so that we can get everything sorted." The files varied in size, some much thicker than others. Medic's was near paper thin and Soldier's was about as thick as a brick, just like the patriot himself. The file handed Scout was much like the doctor's: near empty.
"I ain't got any other contracts?" Scout asked. Miss Pauling shook her head, handing Sniper his much thicker file.
"You'll be given more contracts mid-winter, and there's always the personal missions that may require your skillset."
"My skillset could complete any contract you got, Miss P, just lay 'em on me," he gave her his best smile, much to Spy's eye-rolling annoyance. She simply gave that robotic, employer smile again.
"That'll have to remain untested for now. Either way, one last thing. You guys and BLU are being moved to Upwards for the winter within the month so keep an eye out for announcements and your belongings." The table erupted into a choir of relief and groans. Sniper looked downright elated with the news. It was no secret that snow was his mortal enemy. Meanwhile Heavy looked disappointed, just like how Scout felt. The first winter he'd spend with Snipes being his pal and he wouldn't even get the chance to stuff snow down his shirt. Bummer.
Miss P continued to talk about Upwards and how a full team autobalance might take place once they arrive. After that, the meeting came to a close as the assistant asked if anyone had anything to add. Well, Scout wanted to add that he wished Upwards would magically receive a blizzard just for the opportunity to stuff snow down Sniper's clothes, because he knew the reaction would be something for the history books. He'd get flogged in return but the marksman's face when it happens. Even if it was only imaginary for now, the image in Scout's mind was downright euphoric. The same kind of expression Jamey had when he and Henry stuffed this big, gross, slimy nightcrawler they found down his pants on that rainy day in April so many years ago- wait, he did have something to add!
"I got somethin' to say!" Scout said, shooting to his feet and thus knocking his chair over. The team gave him his full attention, especially Spy and Heavy, but he only locked eyes with Miss Pauling. "I saw someone outside the battlegrounds watching us." That got people's real attention, the serious kind.
"Was it the enemy sniper?" Medic asked, "I've seen that man break the rules more than once." Scout shook his head.
"I thought it was for a second, but no. I don't even think it was a person. Might've imagined things or saw crap that wasn't really there but… thought I'd let ya guys know anyway, just in case."
"Did it have anything with it? Like a recorder or camera?" Spy asked, smoke wafting from his lips.
"I don't know! It disappeared before I could make anything out about it. I mean, it could've been holdin' somethin', or not. Just looked like a person before it, like, poof! Just gone."
"It might be BLU Spy," Heavy hummed in thought, "or worse."
"No, man! It wasn't anyone around here!" Scout yelled, "it just- like, a shadow person looking at the battlefield with big, glowin' white eyes! And when I tried gettin' close, it literally vanished like that!" He snapped his fingers to emphasize the point. The others just looked at him in skepticism, like he was Soldier Brand Crazy talking. Great, just great.
"You believe me, right Miss P?" Scout met her eyes again, leading to the others looking at her as well. She straightened her glasses.
"Well, what you've described is… vague, to put it lightly." The runner began to deflate. "However, I'll look into it. Due to previous situations rising when people we don't recognize show up, I'd say that it is best to at the very least keep an eye out. I can request to view the footage taken of the last battle, but I wouldn't worry about it just yet. Just focus on the battles and contracts and let me handle anything outside of that."
"Okay," Scout replied, idly swinging his leg. She was right, keeping an eye out was the best option, and hopefully it didn't mean anything important. But then that might mean he was going Soldier Brand Crazy, which wasn't comforting at all. And the team would start viewing him like that fable about a shepherd boy and wolves. But if there was something, then that meant he'd spotted it first, and since he warned everyone first, they had to respect him for doing that. But then it could be another… Sawmill Situation.
The thought sent an uncomfortable shiver up his spine.
"Alright guys, you're dismissed," Miss Pauling finally said, brushing her shirt absently, "remember, any questions and concerns about your contracts, be sure to talk to me about them."
"Will do," Engie replied, tipping his hardhat. The team began to stand, stretching limbs and starting conversations. Sniper joined them, standing and stretching his back which cracked so loudly even Scout could hear it clearly.
"D*mn, Snipes, auditioning to be a glowstick or something?"
"Ah, piss off ya git," the Australian playfully sneered. "Just been sitting too long."
"Yeah, that's what havin' toothpick legs gets ya." Scout deadpanned, earning a nasty looking scowl from Sniper. Or it would have been nasty looking if Scout wasn't now an expert at reading Sniper's expressions.
Sniper was the sorta guy who didn't smile all that much. In fact, he usually didn't show any emotion, instead always looking like the poster boy for neutrality. Or boredom, but that title was held by Spy. Snipes instead tended to use other ways of showing his emotions. Mostly through his voice. And when he did express his emotions through, well, expressions, it could be really hard to figure out what he was showing since it always kinda looked pained in a way.
That's what it used to be, anyway, before Scout started hanging around the guy almost 24/7. Now he could read Sniper like a really easy-to-read book. That, or Sniper didn't bother holding back his emotions when Scout was around. Either way, Scout could now look at the marksman, the marksman currently giving him a nasty scowl, and safely say that Sniper was holding back a grin. Literally everything about Sniper's expression screamed "I'm angry and you're the one making me that way". All except the fact that his nose was bunched up, the way noses bunch up when someone's about to either burst out laughing or grin like a lunatic.
Scout shot the man a smug smirk and gave him a patronizing pat on the head. Sniper swatted his hand away.
"Ought to get going, the others already left," Sniper said, looking around. Scout did the same and yep, the others were indeed gone, all except one. He couldn't help but watch the most beautiful lady he'd ever laid eyes on gather up the other papers and files she had on her person. Man, was there anything that woman couldn't do gracefully? Scout heard Sniper roughly sigh as he was pulled outside. Even when Sniper situated himself in front of the runner and between Miss P, Scout was tiptoeing to peer over his friend's shoulder only to find the doors had been closed behind them.
Rats.
"You seriously need to curtail your puppy love eyes when she's around, mate."
"What puppy eyes?" Scout asked, itching towards the doors again. Sniper lightly pushed him back with a tired look. "I don't get eyes, she's just…y'know!"
"You get the most lovey-dovey look on your face whenever she's around," Sniper deadpanned, "like Romeo looking at Juliet, seriously, I'm starting to think you're under a spell."
"I just… I just wanna know her answer is all…" Scout said wistfully. At that, Sniper paused, then facepalmed, groaning.
"Did you never clarify with her that date thing you two agreed to?"
"It was a maybe deal, just wanna," Scout dropped back down, sighing dramatically. "Aw, she probably only said all that to make me braver, never planned on doing nothing-"
"Go talk to her," Sniper all but demanded, grabbing Scout's shoulder and shoving him towards the door. When Scout tried pushing back, Sniper only tightened his grip and leaned in close.
"Next time you bring her flowers you find, make sure they're pink with nice green leaves," Sniper whispered before all but throwing Scout into the meeting room.
Miss Pauling had paused when Scout had stumbled into the room. Holy crap, she was just so perfect! Okay, chill, chill out, relax, just focus on getting the answer, that's it!
"Did you forget something?" She asked, straightening up. Scout swallowed, slipping off the aviators before nodding. Time to be the suave seducer he knew he could be.
"Uh, yeah actually," Great start, just keep up the momentum! "I forgot to ask you something." Yes! Miss Pauling gave him a curious look. Okay, she was listening, just reel her in, no biggie, ignore the pounding heart and racing pulse, you've fought actual monsters right out of horror stories, just-
"So, is the maybe a yeah or a nah?"
"Sorry, what?" Scout began to ramble to rectify, or clarify.
"Nah, nah, I mean- so, remember when we- er, back at… at Sawmill…?" Miss Pauling's eyes hardened. She nodded. "Okay, so, and remember when me and you was hidin' from- like, when we were followin' the plan but the plan kinda fell through cause you almost got caught and I almost got caught getting it away from you and we both hid and- okay, just-"
"Yes, I remember that. We were almost killed. And you were killed."
"Yeah, but like," Scout took a breath, rubbing his neck. "When we were hidin', yeah, I kinda… I kinda asked if you… if you would… if you'd go out with-"
"OH!" Miss Pauling cried, covering her mouth and looking away hastily "Oh, oh I completely forgot about that! I-"
"Nah, nah, it's cool, it's cool, just-"
"I- oh my goodness, I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it, I just wanted to know wh-"
"No, I'm… I'm sorry, Scout, I don't… I don't think- I don't think I could…"
"oh."
The dejected runner hung his head, scraping his foot on the ground as Miss Pauling continued to stutter.
"It's not- I just don't have the time to spare, anymore," Miss Pauling explained, fiddling with the papers in her grip. "When you died-"
"Ya did say that would impact your answer," Scout quietly said. The assistant was quick to shake her head.
"No, I said that to- I didn't mean it that way. But when you died, my workload tripled in size and still hasn't decreased."
"Wait, seriously?" Scout looked back up in shock, only for Miss Pauling to confirm her statement with a nod.
"Ever since the Sawmill Incident things have been… well, harder," she fixed her glasses with a sigh, "from overseeing the constant repairs to battleground buildings to interviews with subordinates who will most likely be terminated within the week, not to mention the bodies you guys leave behind on off base missions. So, I'm- I'm sorry, Scout, for getting your hopes up, but I can't fit anything like that into my schedule at the moment. It's just that full."
"...that ain't fair." Scout said quietly. Miss Pauling grimaced.
"I- I know it's not, and I'm sorry for not remembering to tell you-"
"No, forget me, that ain't fair to you! What the **** is that hag doin' to you!?"
"Don't call The Administrator a hag, please," Miss Pauling stated in a terse tone, but Scout wasn't listening.
"You're one person, she can't expect you to keep workin' yourself to death like that! You already only get on day off a year, this ain't fair, you can't do everything!"
"The Administrator believes I'm more than capable, otherwise she wouldn't have me taking on such important tasks," Miss Pauling stated. "And so far I've been doing just fine by myself, I don't need help."
"...but do you… want some help?" Scout asked softly. Miss Pauling was quiet, fiddling with her papers. "Cause if ya want, I'm- I can be a pretty big help."
"...I don't… think I'd mind. Too much… at least…"
"So, if-"
"Whenever you're off hours, I suppose. I work around twelve hours a day. Everyday. So it's up to you, really…"
"...I wouldn't mind one bit."
"...well, then I'll let you know when I can bring you along…"
"Sweet." The two young adults were left standing, shifting their weight and in stilted silence, fiddling with their respective items be it sunglasses or files. Then as the pair finally made eye contact, Scout gave Miss Pauling a smile, earning the smallest of smiles in return. Then she jolted, eyes wide.
"Oh, I have to get going," She hitched her files up and speed-walked to the doors, "I need to hand BLU their contracts too!"
"Oh yeah, for sure, don't let me slow you down!" Scout dashed over to the doors and held them open for her.
"Thank you, Scout," Miss Pauling said gratefully. Scout simply waved as she trotted away. Man, could that girl move when she wanted! And in heels no less! What a woman.
Sighing happily, Scout looked around the area, putting the aviators back on.
Sniper was gone. His dopey smile dropped. Where the heck…?
Oh, he was probably in his van already. Scout began jogging down the hall. Boy, would he have something to tell Sniper!
Probably one real big "thank you" first.
"Sniper, c'mon man, open the h*ll up!" Scout shouted for the fifth time as he banged against the camper's door. It had been a good five minutes and Scout still wasn't let in. Did Sniper fall asleep or something? Not for long with Scout's knocking. Did something happen there? Like a stroke or heart attack? But those happen to old people and as much as Scout teased how the marksman looked, Sniper was literally the second youngest mercenary on the team, so that didn't seem likely either.
Scout paced back and forth, staring down the door before stomping his foot and grabbing the handle. Crouching down, the runner grabbed the little bobby pin he kept in his back pocket and started jiggling the lock. Was this a big breach in privacy? Yes. But if some broken personal space was all that was between him and making sure Sniper wasn't dying in there, then Scout would break that little social bubble ten times over. And if Sniper wasn't, then he'd understand where Scout was coming from, right? Sure, he'd be annoyed, but better that than dead! And if Sniper dies when Scout could've done something about it, then he would never be able to forgi-
The lock clicked open and so did the door. Scout slipped in instantly and flicked on the lights to find… no one.
Oh yeah, usually when people don't answer doors and the lights are out, that typically means they aren't home, doesn't it?
As Scout facepalmed at his own stupidity, he looked around the small space. Just as homely as usual. There weren't too many changes to the van in the months after Sawmill. And in Scout's eyes, that was one heck of a blessing. A lot can change in a week, much less the three months he was dead. And yet Sniper's little home remained the same. The same little curtains, the same dark brown cupboards, the same little framed pictures of Australia as Scout came to learn, and the same mattress, matted from so much use(and weight nowadays). Ignoring the burning in his ears, Scout made to sit at the small table to wait for Sniper to show. But then he heard a rustle.
The blankets were moving. A little lump no bigger than a football was shifting around the bedsheets. Scout was frozen in place, watching in silence as the lump got closer and closer to the edge. Did one of Soldier's raccoons get trapped in here? And then-
"AH, CRAP!" he shouted as the round face of an owl popped out. Scout instantly calmed down, now more shocked than anything. The owl had a tan face with two little feathers sticking up like ears. Staring him down were the biggest golden eyes Scout had ever seen. Neither made a move and neither party blinked.
"...Hootsalot?" Scout called out to the bird. The owl, or Hootsalot if it really was him, only continued to stare, its pupils dilating to an uncomfortable degree, just staring at him. Then, it bobbed its head, the sheets slipping off its shoulders- er, wings. It bobbed again, and Scout copied, unsure of what to do. Was it saying hello? Doing a happy dance? Scout grinned, bobbing his head along with the owl. Maybe the bird was saying hello!
The owl's wings then spread, angled and large with its feathers poofing outward. It looked huge now, and it still wasn't blinking. Scout swallowed.
"Uh, hoots?"
Hootsalot shrieked and flew straight towards Scout's face. He shouted and ducked, narrowly avoiding the talons swiping the air. Hootsalot noisily flapped in the enclosed camper, downy fluff filling the air. The little devil owl continued to dive at Scout's head, who could only swipe at the beast to save himself from those nasty looking talons. Again, and again, and again until Scout lunged and grabbed Hootsalot, holding him at arm's length.
"Crazy *ss bird!" Scout yelled over the bird's deafening shrill cries. Hootsalot beat his wings against Scout's hands, the force of the blows beginning to hurt.
"What the bloody h*ll are you doing!?" The runner and owl paused their apocalyptic battle to see Sniper standing in the doorway, looking both baffled and pissed. Hootsalot responded by biting Scout's finger.
"OW!" He cried, reflexively releasing the owl, who swooped over to Sniper. Landing on the marksman's forearm, the owl continued to shriek at Scout, making himself look big again. Scout glared back, holding his bitten hand protectively.
"What did you do?" Sniper asked accusingly.
"Me!? I didn't do anything but walk in here, that stupid ball of feathers just started attackin' me outta nowhere!"
"You probably scared him by coming in, he's never seen you up close before!" Sniper shot back, smoothing down Hootsalot's fluffed up feathers. "Could've just waited till I was back to enter! What'd you even do, pick the lock?"
"I thought you were in trouble or something, I was knocking for ages."
"So instead of seeing the lights out and locked door and reasoning that I'm not in, you reason that I had a heart attack or something?" Scout's ears began to burn and he couldn't meet Sniper's eyes.
"...maybe." He mumbled, earning a loud, disappointed sigh in return.
"You're a real idiot sometimes, y'know that?" Sniper mused, letting Hootsalot out and watching him fly away. When he looked back and saw Scout still standing stiff and quiet, he sighed again. "Alright, look, it's nice to know you're proactive like that, but just try not to go with the worst possible scenario first, yeah?"
"...kay." Scout said stiffly, dropping into a seat. "Not like you wouldn't've Respawned anyway, whaddeva, **** me I guess." Before Sniper could reply, Scout sat up, indifference written plainly on his face. "So why were ya gone for so long?"
"Was calling my parents," Sniper said, taking off his hat and putting it on the countertop he was leaning on, "y'know how that tends to go." Scout gave the man a sympathetic look. Yeah, all the times Sniper showed up acting like a tightly wound instrument after his calls home were proof enough. Sometimes he never showed up after a phone call, only appearing the day later looking absolutely exhausted. Those days Scout stayed far, far away. He annoyed people, Scout knew that, not completely on purpose, it just tended to happen, and sometimes he annoyed Sniper so badly the runner had to leave for both their safety. And if he ended up accidentally annoying Sniper super badly after an already bad call with the folks… well, could mean the apocalypse in all honesty.
"How bad was it?"
"Not that much, actually," Sniper replied, "Mum was the only one home at the time. Apparently there'd been a dingo harassing the flock for a while, and the neighboring farms, and yesterday a young farmhand went out and shot it."
"Oh, cool."
"That used to be what me and my dad would do," the faintest of grins found itself on Sniper's face, "soon enough he let me go alone once we figured out I had better aim than him. Was pretty proud of that fact for a while… not so much anymore."
The Australian fell silent, looking at the ground with a distant, pained expression.
"But how did it go with you? With Miss Pauling?" Sniper was quick to ask, awaiting a hasty answer. Scout began to stutter.
"Uh, we, we… so turns out that the whole "dating" thing wouldn't- I mean won't, it won't work… for her. It was a… a no on datin'."
"Oh." Sniper replied stiffly, "...sorry bout that, I figured-"
"No, no! Datin' can't work but I get to tag along to help her with jobs since she's apparently drownin' in chores and crap like that and I told her it wasn't fair and that whenever she wants I can help with that so now even if it ain't a "date" date, it's something right?"
"Guess so," Sniper shrugged.
"So how did Hoots even get in here?" Scout piped up, "Pretty sure he can't pick locks, or open windows, or open doors, or-"
"I've been letting him inside," Sniper said, "he trusts me enough, now. Told you about it last night."
"Ya did?" Scout asked, earning an exacerbated look. "I mean, course ya did!"
"Yeah, I really only let him in during the day. Night's when he's out hunting. In here he just likes to sleep."
"Uh, yeah, I caught him doing it in your bed. Ya shouldn't let him do that, could have a disease or something."
"I let you sleep in it, and since I haven't caught anything yet, I'd say Hoots is safe to have around." Scout paused, then bristled.
"The h*ll're you implying, Buster!-"
"Which reminds me," Sniper stepped away from the counter and crouched by a small cupboard, "I have something I need to give you."
"Really!? What is it?" Scout perked up, excitement coursing through his veins. "A cool knife? Cool hat? Baby croc-o-dile? A huge diamond?-" his spiel was interrupted by something heavy and soft hitting his face. Spitting and sputtering, Scout grabbed the soft thing and looked at it. Whatever it was was super soft, like, unreasonably soft. So much so he wanted to shove his face in it and never let go. It was a moderate gray, and obviously knitted together.
"Made it myself," Sniper said as Scout stood and held the sweater up to see it better. "Think of it as a toll."
"A toll?" Scout repeated, looking at the expertly woven garment. "A toll for what?" Sniper didn't reply, only watching with a quiet smile as Scout slipped on the sweater. As he did, he noticed more things about it. How there was a much lighter colored front to the shirt, how the sleeves were way longer than they should be, and how they didn't have actually have hand holes. Instead, each had five little holes for his fingers to slip through. On the underside, that same pale gray as his front covered where his palms would be. It kinda made his hands look like paws.
Scout narrowed his eyes. What a minute…
"Oh you son of a b***h." Sniper's smile morphed into an evil, toothy grin. "I ain't a koala!
"Sure do act like one whenever you stay the night," Sniper quipped, "so this is the toll: whenever you want to stay the night anymore, you have to be wearing it."
"Screw you!" Scout shot back, ears burning hotter than a supernova, "I don't act like a koala! And I won't even need this because I won't be comin' around anymore!" Scout slipped the sweater off and chucked it at Sniper's face, who was still smiling smugly. Scout scowled even harder.
"That's fine by me, it'll be nice to have my limbs free at night again," Sniper placed the clothing on the countertop, "consider yesterday the last little nightly hangout."
"Yeah, fine by me too! I only kept comin' around cause you needed it more than me and I was just that good a guy to take the embarrassment for you! Good to know I won't have to keep pretending now!" Scout nodded, crossing his arms to add that last little umph.
Yeah, he didn't need to come around anymore, he could handle night-happenings all by himself, Sniper wasn't needed, and if he was going to patronize Scout like this over something neither mentioned outside of when it was asked about because it was just that personal, then he would go **** himself! Scout didn't need to play dress up for Sniper's amusement. Scout came around for… for more important reasons! It wasn't like he just liked sharing beds with other guys, he didn't even like doing it with his actual brothers. It was just something that he… Sniper was the only other one who… they went through the same…
Would he seriously lose that sense of safety from a stupid soft sweater?
Scout glared at the ground, hands balled into fists at his side. Then he snatched the sweater and put it on, embarrassment lining every inch of him. It was even worse when he heard Sniper start to laugh. It was just a little breathy chuckle, but it cut like a knife. Everything burned, his ears, face, skin, and now his vision.
"Just shut up, Mick," Scout muttered, trying to push his way past the marksman and to the door. But that wasn't going to happen on Sniper's watch. Instead, Scout was grabbed and locked into a light chokehold. Then the world buzzed and blurred as Sniper began to roughly ruffle Scout's hair.
"Hey, LAY OFF!" Scout managed to shout, writhing and squirming in Sniper's grasp. But it was in vain, there was no escape. This was his fate. Soon the interior of the camper started to spin, and his brain was no doubt becoming jelly. Lightheaded was too light a word to describe what Scout was feeling.
Luckily for him, Sniper stopped soon afterwards, looking all too pleased with himself. When Scout started swaying, he also let himself be used as something to lean on until the younger man got his bearings.
"You seriously suck," Scout mumbled into the marksman's shoulder. He felt Sniper chuckle. "Seriously, you're lucky you made this thing so freakin' soft, otherwise I'd have choked ya to death with it."
"'Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Buckshot," Sniper mused, wrapping his arms around Scout's shoulders. "It's yours; you can do whatever you want with it now." His grip tightened just a bit. "But I'm glad you like it."
"Whatever man," Scout said, the world finally coming back into focus, "if I have to come around wearin' this thing, can I at least have a spare key? I don't have a lot of bobby pins."
"...That's fair."
"Thanks, Mick." The runner mumbled, rubbing his face into the fabric of one of the nicest gifts he'd ever been given.
Scout: *isn't brave enough to make himself approach Miss P*
Sniper: Fine, I'll do myself! *throws Scout with excessive force*
There are so many little memes I've thought of involving this series, and the main one that I really with I could make somehow, is a Mr. BlueSky montage of all the horrible/painful events that happen in the books. It would be the funniest thing! Also, Sniper is the most underrated but best wingman. Yes indeed!