A beautiful Tuesday morning sun slowly rose over the Boston neighbourhood, taking its time to fully illuminate the streets and the yards of the sleepy residents. Nearby restaurants were opening up, displaying in big their choices of coffees and breakfast dishes, and the morning news had just started on the TV and the radio, talking about what was currently happening around the world before talking about the beautiful weather the city was going to have this week.

Like every morning, a large ray of light passed through a curtain-less window, shining brightly over the Scout's face, almost immediately waking him up from his slumber. The boy groaned and slowly rolled over in his bed, barely covered by their sheets, to stare at his ticking alarm clock. 6:28 AM. As usual, the daylight had woken him up a few minutes before his alarm clock. He began to wonder why he even kept the damn thing.

He slowly rose from his bed, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, and yawned, scratching his stomach as he looked around his room. The floor was cluttered with clothes and some dirty dishes that he forgot to pick up the other day. Posters of famous baseball players like Babe Ruth and Jackie Robinson were plastered over the walls, in their famous uniforms. Other than that were the basics for a bedroom; a few clothes drawers and a wardrobe, with more hangers than clothes in there. There was a small TV placed on a tall bed table at the foot of the bed, where he'd watch cheesy sci-fi movies (like "Attack of the living goo!") and Big League games at night, before going to bed. He remembered how he told his ma that he won the TV in some made up lottery. It was less hassle than telling her he bought it.

After all, he wasn't supposed to make more than a doctor's pay. Not with the small construction job he was supposed to have.

Lazily, he grabbed a clean pair of boxers and went towards the bathroom, while still wearing nothing but his old boxers. After taking his morning shower and feeling refreshed and awaken, he walked to his room, drying himself off with a towel he then threw into his dirty clothes pile, before grabbing some clothes that looked decently clean and quickly putting them on. He had a hunch that today was going to be different. Heck, him and the other mercs were even scheduled to do some intel stealing this morning, and that was his favorite. He even began to wonder why he had gone to bed bitter last night, when the answer to that question came to him as a male voice with a distinct accent being heard from down the stairs.

Oh, right.

Richard.

Rolling his eyes, he slowly stepped out of his room and down the stairs, walking into the kitchen. His ma was by the oven, happily cooking bacon and eggs for her two men. She seemed quite happy this morning, which was twice as odd, because she usually slept until 9 o'clock and is grumpy until at least 10, and those were on her good days.

And then, there he was, sitting at the table, his face hidden between two pages of the daily newspaper while a warm coffee was sitting on the table before him.

"Good morning, mom fils." the Spy told Nathan without looking away from his paper. "Had a good sleep?"

Nathan groaned and refused to answer. He grabbed two pieces of bread and stuck them in the toaster.

"I, for one, had a night absolument magnifique. I hope me and your mother didn't make too much noise..." he chuckles a bit.

"Richard! You don't need to talk about that at the table!" Laura replied with a blush, which only made Richard laugh some more, and increased Nathan's sudden desire to use the butcher's knife for something other than food. His poor ma was being seduced and fooled by this bastard, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was driving him nuts. He remembered the last words Richard told him last night.

If I told you why, I don't think you'd believe me.

He was going to find out what that prick was planning, some way or another. In the meantime, he had to patiently wait until work started to give Richard the beating he deserved.

"Nathan, honey, sit down at the table, I've made you two breakfast before you head to work." the mom beamed as she scooped up the eggs and placed them on two plates, next to the bacon. Richard folded up the newspaper and put it away as his plate was placed in front of him. He still had that mask on. Nathan wondered if he slept with the damn thing on his face.

"It smells delicious, Laura, but you didn't need to go through so much trouble for us...I could've cooked." the Spy stated as he gently grabbed her hand before it could move away, giving the back of it a soft kiss.

"Oh, nonsense! I'm more than happy to make breakfast for you, Richard!" she giggled with a blush. Nathan tried not to puke into his plate.

"Alright, you boys enjoy your breakfast, I'm going out for my smoke. And Nathan, for Pete's sake, you have this big spot on your shirt! Go put on something clean!" she scolded in a sweet manner as she placed down a cup of coffee for her son before grabbing her cigarettes and leaving for the front porch. Nathan watched her leave. He had always hated his ma's smoking habit. Thank God him and his brothers had managed to get her from 4 packs a day to 2 cigarettes a day. It hadn't been easy, but at the very least, now she'll be able to live past 50.

"So...it seems like we're going to be adding another day to our winning streak, don't you think so, Nathan?" the Spy taunted with a small laugh, while he brought a piece of egg to his mouth.

"Yeah, not today, Frenchy. I got this feelin' we gonna win. I'm an expert at intel stealin'." Nathan replied while boosting up his chest a bit.

"Oh, you mean like that time you tripped down our stairs while trying to flee our Heavy?" cackled Richard, while trying not to choke on his breakfast.

"T'was an accident!" snapped Nathan, which only made the Spy laugh harder. It happened a few months ago, in an area called "Turbine". A tough and challenging battle for both team, with both of them having captured the other's intel twice. There were three paths to the intel room: a corridor on the left, which was protected by a sentry; another corridor on the right, but it passed right in front of the RED spawn room, making it awfully dangerous; and finally, a ventilation shaft large enough for one person to walk in, which was sometimes crawling with members of both teams. Since that shaft seemed like the safest route, the Scout quickly crawled inside, praying no REDs would follow him in or, worse, come in from the opposite direction. He was lucky that time, and he dropped into the intel room without anyone noticing him. He quickly grabbed the briefcase, setting of the RED team's alarm, chuckling to himself at how easy this had been, before realizing he didn't think his plan all the way through: the ventilation shaft was now too high for him to escape in, and one of the path had a sentry that fills anything looking even remotely blue with bullets. He would have to brave the corridor near the spawn room before the enemy team storms the area and corners him.

So, he quickly climbed up the pair of stairs leading to the enemy spawn, passing by it just as the RED Heavy walked out, his minigun whirring almost as loudly as the angry battle cry of its owner. A hail of high caliber bullets whizzed past the Scout's body, some hitting him in the back, but he didn't stop, not for a second. Doing that would mean another use of the Respawn machine, and, even though he knew he'd come out unharmed, it wasn't pleasant to die.

As he had reached the other flight of stairs, this one going down into the big turbine room, he saw that the slide door down those stairs was open. Someone was either coming in, or going out. Nathan saw this as his chance and focused all of the energy left in his half dead body into getting down those steps before that door could close. Now, what happened next is anyone's guess. Some say that one of the RED Heavy's bullets hit the young boy in the leg at the wrong time. Others, like Nathan himself, claimed it was because one of those shoelaces came undone, and he carelessly stepped on it. More claim it was simply because the Scout missed a step. Whichever the reason, Nathan landed face first into the metal stairs, barely a second after he began to descend, before tumbling down all the way, snapping his neck at the bottom and making the RED intelligence slide into the turbine room.

The BLU team had won that day. Their Pyro had walked over and picked up the intel with little trouble. The RED team couldn't defend it properly because they were laughing too hard.

And for weeks after this battle, Nathan had gained the nickname "Trippy". Everyone called him that, including his own team. And, by God, no one wasted an opportunity to call him that. "Trippy, protect the point!" "Dominated, Trippy!" "There's a spy disguised as Trippy!" They only stopped calling him that when Nathan proved his worth, a few weeks after the accident, by ending a day with 3 dominations and by pretty much carrying his team to victory.

"Yeah, you can laugh all you want, you ain't gonna win today. You won't even see me comin'." the Scout replied as he got up, grabbing the two toasts that had just popped out. He brought them over to his plate, placed his bacon and eggs over one of the toasts, and putting the other one on top. A quick breakfast sandwich that the Heavy would drool over. He took the sandwich and headed for the front door.

"You're not taking any of your mother's coffee?" Richard questioned with a small raised brow, pointing at the warm mug Laura placed down for Nathan.

"B'tween you 'n me, she makes terrible coffee." Nathan replied with a small shrug as he took a bite of his sandwich.

"I'm afraid you're too late to warn me of that." said Richard with a small, slightly disgusted frown down at his mug.

Nathan took another bite of his lightly greasy breakfast, went out the front door and, after saying bye to his ma, went towards the bus station. His ma was no master chef...but these eggs and this bacon were both delicious, or, at least, better than usual. Maybe she found out how to properly cook them on TV? Or she got tips off of one of her cook books?

He finished up his breakfast and pulled out his earphones, placing them over his ears. His ma's new cooking skill and happy attitude had to be easily explainable.

He refused to believe that this was because of the Spy.