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He was a Force o' Nature.
Light feet skimmed across the hard-packed dirt floor, barely touching the ground before being launched forwards. A lean frame easily sidestepped and swerved to avoid bullets and explosives as the offenders ended up on the ground wondering what hit them. Moments later, the RED Scout had returned to base with the BLU intelligence in his grasp.
"I am on fire today!"
Scout had had a pretty good day. He'd only died a few times, usually in the form of a lucky backstab or under the enemy Heavy's relentless fire. But he'd gotten to bludgeon the BLU Pyro to death. Three times. To top it all off, he'd captured the intel twice and prevented several attempts on RED's. All in all it was a good day, and he was going to end it with one last capture.
So confident was he in his ability to obtain the briefcase that he completely missed the telltale beep of a Sentry around the corner. What he didn't miss was the thoom, thoom, thoom, as it let out a stream of compact bullets. With a shout of surprise, Scout darted back around the corner, hissing in pain and dabbing at his cheek where one of the bullets had just grazed him. That had been a little too close.
Not a moment later, Scout heard heavy footfalls back the way he'd come, accompanied by a constant whirring and a roar of thunderous laughter. Soon after, the RED Heavy backed into view, firing at some unseen enemy. The satisfied grin spoke of a successful kill. The Russian loped up to Scout, a pleased smile plastered on his face. "Leetle Scout is capturing the briefcase, da?"
"Yeah," Scout grunted, looking behind his larger teammate. "Where's doc?"
"Cowardly Spy," Heavy replied with a sneer, then a smile. "Did not last long against Sasha. Doktor will be back. You get briefcase. I will watch for BLUs."
"I can't get to it," Scout admitted. "Deir Engie's got a Sentry set up in dere. Where da hell's our Spy?"
"Watching our briefcase, " replied Heavy. "Is disguised as our Engineer. Will kill anyone who gets too close."
Scout sighed. He didn't bother asking why the spook was even there, when the real Engineer was perfectly capable of watching his own buildings. "So he ain't comin'..." He peeked around the corner to get a better look. The Sentry was only a level 1, but it wasn't the only one. There were two other Sentries; one on the stairs, the other right next to the intel. "Damn. Deir Engie was busy."
"I will shoot down leetle machines, " Heavy snarled, menacingly spinning up his minigun, but Scout held up a finger to stop him.
"Hold on." The runner reached into his bag and pulled out a yellow can. "I think I can buy us some time with dis. I draw deir fire while you shoot 'em. Dat way no one dies."
"Is good plan," Heavy agreed. "But it won't last long. You will still die if you do this."
Scout looked at the Bonk! can in his hand. At any given moment, he had never had more than a sip. He would often run with it open for several minutes before he got the chance to drink it. In his hand was an unopened can, and no one was here to interrupt him. He was going to need all the help he could get to distract the Sentries long enough for Heavy to take them out. And yet, who knew what an entire can could do to his body?
But since when did he care about stuff like that?
Scout lifted the tab and tilted his head back, ingesting the can's contents. The carbonation made his throat burn and his nostrils sting. He couldn't breathe, but he didn't stop until he'd downed the entire can. Immediately he felt the thrum of the caffeine rush, shaking his hands and bouncing his feet. He was filled with a violent energy, coiled tightly in his stomach, waiting to be released. He felt like if he didn't let it out, he would explode. So he ran.
Scout darted into the room and leapt, sailing and landing behind the intelligence. All three Sentries immediately locked onto him and fired, but the runner saw the bullets as if in slow motion, easily sidestepping the projectiles. As the machines tried to riddle him with bullets, Scout ran, jumped, skirted, hooted, strafed, and jeered, completely out of his mind with pent-up energy. It was almost too easy for Heavy to spin up Sasha, firing a spray of bullets and destroying the Sentries in moments. As soon as the deed was done, Scout nabbed the intel and sprinted back out of the room, probably faster than he'd ever run before.
Only seconds later victory was called, and with a no longer identifiable BLU mercenary's skull crushed between Heavy's meaty hands, victory had never tasted sweeter.
(...)
"So, vhat happened, exactly?"
"Leetle Scout drink an entire can," said Heavy. "He moved so fast, and he distract tiny machines. I have never seen a boy move so fast."
"I see," was Medic's reply. "How long ago vas zhis, vould you say?"
"Must have been an hour." Heavy looked concerned. "Will it ever end?"
Medic looked past Heavy's shoulder to where Scout was running in circles around nothing in particular. Several times he'd hit the wall in his circuit, but he'd just holler something unintelligible and keep going. Medic calmly met his friend's gaze once more. "I truly hope so."
"Heyguyswatchatalkin'about?!" Scout popped up behind the doctor, startling him. "Arewetalkin'aboutme'cuzIthoughtIheardmynameearlierorIguessit'smyclassnamereallybutyougetmypointsoheydowegettocapturedaintelagaintodaybecauseIamREADYTOGO!"
"Nein!" Medic shouted, making Heavy jump and Scout pause. The doctor started massaging the bridge of his nose. "You can capture all zhe intelligence you vant tomorrow, but today's match is over. You'll just have to be patient."
"Leetle Scout must be hungry," Heavy intervened before the youngest merc could retort. "I can make sandvich, da?"
"ActuallyIain'tdathungryinfactI'mactuallyprettythirstymaybeIshouldgrabanothacanof-"
"NO!" Heavy and Medic bellowed in unison. "Ahem," Medic cleared his throat. "Vhy don't you talk to Herr Spy? He might be villing to share his tea vizh you to help you, ah, vind down."
"Eww, tea? Gross..." Scout grumbled, but he picked up on the hint, so he nonetheless went to find the masked mercenary.
Finding him was almost too easy; he spent most, if not all, of his time outside of battle as far away from his teammates as he could get. No one dared to intrude when he was in his Smoking Room, but today Scout would not be stopped by the beautifully polished wooden door, and he just walked right inside.
Not expecting a visitor, Spy reached into his suit for his revolver, but stopped himself when he saw who his guest was. Nevertheless, he kept his hand on the weapon when he asked, "I do hope you aren't here for another dating lesson."
"Nowaydudedatwasfuckin'awful," Scout started to ramble, "DocsentmeherebecauseIwouldn'tshutupandhesaidyou'dmakemeteaand-"
"Suddenly the revolver was pressed to his temple. "Speak. Clearly."
It was funny how having a gun pointed at your head could sober you up. "I was s'posed to come here to get ya to make me tea. Doc's orders, man."
"And you're not leaving until I do, are you?"
"Nope," Scout answered, smiling with impish innocence.
Spy sighed wearily, then flipped the safety switch and pocketed his revolver once more. "Fine. But then I want you out."
But Scout was still there ten minutes later, pacing absentmindedly about the room with his empty cup and talking about some stupid topic that had something to do with a mishap with Pyrovision goggles. Spy tried his best to maintain his composure, he really did. But the runner's ramblings were grating on his last nerves, the corner of his mouth twitching incessantly and his fingers tightly clenching the handle of his own cup.
"An'thenIcouldasworndisguyhadaroosterheadorsomethin'I'mactuallyprettysureitwasHeavybutdendis-"
"Enough!" Spy finally snapped. "I come here so I can get some peace and quiet, and I will not have you come here and ruin that simply because our docteur told you to." He took a sip of his tea. "If you wish to pester someone, do it somewhere else."
Scout grumbled something under his breath, but he complied, making sure to stomp his feet as loudly as possible on the way out.
(...)
It was remarkably nice outside. Warm, despite the setting sun, with only the slightest breeze cooling his skin. From here he could almost see the BLU base. Even as he kicked back against the wall, arms crossed behind his head, his eyes were always scanning the battlefield below, searching for even the slightest hint of a threat. Even though it was a ceasefire, you never knew when a BLU would come knocking, be it a bold Spy or a stupid Scout-
"Hey wassup, Snipes?!"
Sniper stumbled and fell with a startled yell, flailing his arms in an attempt to catch himself. He propped himself against the wall, his hat askew and his aviators crooked. He had the faintest hint of an annoyed snarl.
Speaking of stupid Scouts...
"Wot the bloody hell were you thinking? I could've just fallen to my death!"
"Woah, woah, jeeze!" Scout raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I just wanted to say hi!"
"Just wanted to say hi," Sniper repeated, righting himself and adjusting his hat. "I've got half a moind roight now to make sure you're not a Spy."
"Hey! If ya kill me, Respawn ain't gonna catch me!"
Sniper glared. "You're roight. It wouldn't."
"Ugh, asshole."
"Ankle-boiter."
After a pregnant pause, Scout looked out across the muddy field, then at Sniper. "What're ya even doin' up here, anyway?"
"Wotching for BLUs," the bushman grumbled. "And I was relaxing."
"Why're ya watchin' for BLUs? It's a ceasefire." Scout evidently missed the not-so-subtle hint, or perhaps he just ignored it. Sniper wiped a hand down his face.
"Look, Scout. You came to say hello, and you've accomplished that. And as much as I appreciate your company, I was rather looking forward to spending one ceasefire on my own. So I'm askin' you now, leave me be."
Scout groaned. Apparently Sniper was in one of his moods. He decided it would be best to leave the Aussie be; he had some sense of self-preservation, after all. Maybe he could go bother Demo.
The Scotsman wasn't too hard to find. He was in the rec room, playing cards with Soldier and, as always, nursing a drink.
"Got any threes?"
"No, Sol, yoo've been askin' me for the past five turns. Yoo've already got all the threes."
"Oh... Do you have any jokers?"
"Yo wassup, guys? Mind if I join?" Scout asked, strolling up to the small table and claiming a seat.
"We are playing cards," Soldier said enthusiastically. "It's serious business, son. Definitely not for the weak of heart. You will have to commit your entire life to these cards!"
"It's just Go Fish," edged in Demoman. "I dun mind you joinin', lad. Jes' let us finish this game."
"A'ight."
Scout tried his best to be patient. Really, he did. But with all the caffeine and sugar still in his system, he just couldn't stay still. He tried to get comfortable, shifting, squirming, anything to keep moving. He settled with restlessly bouncing his leg, chin in his hand and elbow on the table. It moved in time with each bob, shaking the deck in the center and annoying the two other mercs.
Demoman exhaled through his nose while Soldier openly snarled at his cards. But he quickly got fed up, throwing his cards and flipping the table.
"Woah, hey, what gives?!" cried Scout, standing up and stepping away from the mess.
"Don't you realize what you've done?!" Soldier demanded.
"Now calm down, Sol, he dinnae-"
"Sun Tzu died, he sacrificed himself to bring us Go Fish! And now look, son! You've ruined it! Have you no respect for the playing cards of America?!" When he lunged at the young merc, Demoman reached out and restrained his arm.
"Don't worry aboot it," he said, gritting his teeth as he tried to hold his frothing friend back. "Mebbe you should see how the others are doin' while I handle... this." Scout frowned, but he nodded, making his way out of the rec room...
...and bumping right into Pyro, who had been just about to walk in.
"Hrr?"
Scout smiled; now here was someone he could hang out with. "Hey, Py!"
"Rrr nrr..." The firebug shook his head and turned back the way he came, but the runner insisted on following him.
"So hey, I got dat stuff from Medic's office dat you wanted. Wanna go set it all on fire an' see what happens?"
"Nrrb rrb nrr, Sphrrph," Pyro replied. "Rrm brrphrr."
"Busy? What're ya doin' dat you'd be busy?"
"Rrr hrrb brr phrrph mrr phrrmphrrhrr."
"Well, dat's fuckin' boring." No answer. "Do ya hafta do dat now, though? I need someone to hang out with!"
"Yrr krrn hrrn rrb rrph Rrnbrr," Pyro deadpanned. Scout frowned, but he decided to follow the firebug. After a while, the pair showed up at Engineer's workshop. Pyro opened the door and all but shoved Scout inside. "Yrr brr rrph hrrm, Rrnbrr. Hrr rrnb phrrb rrb, phr Yrr phrrb hrrm rrb." He then loudly shut the door, leaving behind a baffled Engineer and a disappointed Scout.
"Wonder what crawled up his ass," he muttered.
"Watch your language, son," scolded Engineer. He turned on his stool away from his current project- some kind of toaster... with jet engines?- to fully face the younger merc. "So, tell me what all this is about."
"Nah, I ain't gonna bother you widdit," Scout replied. The tinkerer thought he seemed awfully quiet.
"You don't sound too good there," he commented. He shifted on his stool to get more comfortable. "Why don't you tell me what's eatin' ya. I'll be right here to listen."
This was what Scout always liked about Engie. Everyone on base could hate his guts, shun him, tease him, and complain about him, but Engie never did. He'd get fed up sometimes, sure, but if Scout needed to vent, he was all too happy to let him. He listened to him. He got him. It was this that convinced Scout to sigh through his nose and speak.
"...I dunno, it's just... It feels like nobody wants me around, y'know? If I wanna hang out, dey leave. If I wanna talk, dey tell me to shut up. Dey don' wanna fuckin' deal with me. I got seven older brothers. I gotta talk to somebody, man. At home, I got teased a lot, but at least I knew it was because dey gave a shit. Over here... I'm just some annoying brat."
"Now don't you go thinkin' bad of yourself, son," Engineer interjected. "Don't I know how hard it is to put up with us sometimes. Heck, we're sometimes downright nasty to each other. But it don't mean we don't enjoy your company. You're like family to us, Scout.
"...I'm sorry we all make you feel like this," he went on. "Nobody deserves to be treated the way we've been treatin' you. If it makes you feel any better, I could have a chat with the boys, if you like. it's perfectly fine if you don't." He smiled warmly. "Just remember: if you ever need anythin', anythin' at all, you can always stop by and ask."
Scout was silent for a long time, likely pondering over Engineer's words. A very long time, actually. Far too long for someone as energetic as him. The mechanic opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them, and almost laughed at what he saw.
Scout had somehow managed to fall asleep standing up, his head lolled to the side. His mouth was slightly ajar, and a single strand of drool threatened to splatter onto the floor. He would occasionally snore, punctuated by lightly fluttering eyelids. It seemed the poor fella had finally wiped himself out.
...Well, someone had to carry him to his room, and he was the only conscious one present. With a shrug and a good-hearted chuckle, Engineer hefted the young merc over his shoulder and made his way down the hallway.
As he passed by the dining room, where the other mercenaries had started to gather for dinner, Engineer mentally counted off his teammates. An irate Spy, a grumpy Heavy and Medic, a barely-controlled Soldier, the poor Demoman trying to restrain him, a Pyro bored out of his mind, and a grumbling Sniper, all seeming to have some sort of beef with the slumbering Scout.
Engineer smiled to himself. All in all, it was a fairly calm day.