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No. 536
His bat, which he set on the table next to his bag, was now in his bandaged hands. Tiptoeing, he made his way to the wall adjacent to the doorway. Breathing slowed down, grip tightening, head slowly peering out to the hallway. There wasn’t anything there, but Spies are a tricky bunch. With a “clear” hallway, Scout quickly slipped in, making sure his back wasn’t exposed at all. Now he slowly made his way down the hall, back scraping against the wall, eyes scanning for any glint of a dagger or puff of smoke.
A tap from the previous room grabbed his attention, causing his head to snap in that direction. The Spy’s in there, trying to lure him back in? Scout won’t fall for it. Seeing this as his opportunity to outrun the RED spy, he turned to make a break for it.
He only took two steps before he bumped into something. Something that was rather tall, silky, and breathing. “I wonder if you put up as much of a fight as your father did. I know the Medic didn’t.”
Scout’s eyes widened. He had to look up, he needed to. It was vital to him like oxygen. The balaclava hid the man’s identity well, but that snarky smile and the cocky flash of his eyes weren’t masked at all.
He did remember Medic saying that a RED Spy butchered his father all those years ago…but was it possible? Did this man kill dad? Something in the back of his mind answered for him, making his hands swing the bat toward the Spy’s head.
Sadly, rage wasn’t much a batter when it came to a Spy. The older man dodged the wood, quickly pulling out his knife and taking a jab at Scout. Scout’s reflex training paid off, as he was quick to dodge the oncoming blade. But when the blade swung back at him, he blocked the hand with his bat.
For almost a minute, this dance continued, each round let Spy advance and made Scout step back until they were in the center of the control room. Spy’s long leg swiftly found Scout’s stomach, a designer boot knocking the wind from his lungs and causing him to fall on his back. As Scout attempted to sit up, Spy’s pistol was pointed towards him, clicking as a gloved thumb cocked it.
“You are beaten. It is useless to resist.” His voice taunted the boy on the ground, but his mouth wasn’t curled in a smirk. “Do not let yourself be destroyed as ze Medic did-”
Scout quickly rolled on his side with the speed of an expert assassin before swinging the bat into the European’s shoulder. The older man screamed out, holding his shoulder before he regained his composure. His eyes glanced towards the boy, his headset slid down his neck and resting on his shoulders. Wild eyes locked on him and tired arm raising the bat, he grinned Spy to continue.
Spy nodded, quickly taking a jab at Scout as Scout dodged the blade. Scout’s other hand felt the cold metal of the railing between the Intel room and the two-story room below it. He was cornered. Great.
“Maaaagot! Where are you?!” That rumbling voice could only belong to one asshole Scout knew. Scout quickly looked down into the other room and low and behold: Soldier was walking through the doorframe.
The quick second was all Spy needed; he lunged forward and sliced a gaping gash into Scout’s bandaged wrist. Scout screamed out in pain, dropping his bat as he fell to the ground. Huddled against the railing, Scout squeezed his wrist underneath his armpit to protect it from further damage, blood staining his shirt with a deep brownish red. Turning his head to the side, he could see Soldier looking for the source of the scream through the various rows of machines.
The Spy stepped closer; a leather glove wrapped around the knife’s blade and wiped it clean of blood. “Edward, you do not yet realize your importance.” Scout turned his head, the profuse bleeding draining his face of color. His half-lidded eyes stared up at the Spy, who was now smiling warmly at him. His face turned a whiter shade of pale as Spy continued. “You ‘ave only begun to discover your power. Join me and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end zis destructive conflict and bring order to ze battlefield!”
Scout shook his head, eyes shut defiantly. He mumbled, “Better dead than RED…I’ll never join you!”
“If you only knew ze power of the Reliable Excavation Demolition Corporation!” The European shook his fist at the mention of power, his eyes watching carefully as Scout slithered between the railing beams and holding on for dear life on the other side. The large air vent near him blew his black hat off, revealing a patch of brunette hair that wasn’t shaved down like the sides of his head, stringy from hat hair. He watched his comrade look for him through is eyelashes. Spy tilted his head, acknowledging the fact that Scout was trying to ignore him. “Medic never told you what ‘appened to your father.”
Scout snapped back instantly, “He told me enough!” His voice cracked, half-sobbing at the pain. “He told me you killed ‘em!”
“No.” Spy paused, looking at Scout with a certain fondness. “I -am- your father.”
The longer strands of hair on Scout’s head tethered wildly as his eyes snapped wide open. He turned his face towards Spy, shaking his head in disbelief, “No. No…that’s not true. That’s IMPOSSIBLE!”
“Search your feelings! You -know- it to be true!”
Tears streamed from his eyes, “NOOOOOOOO! Noooooo!” He curled his face into his shoulder, smelling the stench of the blood soaked in his shirt.
“Edward…” Spy began to remove one of his gloves; the two exchanged the same intense glare at one another, with the same hazel-blue eyes. Scout’s mother always said he has his father’s eyes. “You can destroy ze Announcer. She ‘as foreseen zis. It is your destiny! Join me, and together we can rule RED Corp as father and son.”
Scout looked down and saw Soldier pick up the misplaced hat, turning his head towards the ceiling. He looked back up towards this man…this monster…his own father.
Spy was now pressed against the rail, a gloved hand holding on and the ungloved hand now reaching down to Scout. Scout never heard of a Spy without a glove. “Come with me…It is ze only way.”
Scout closed his eyes and let go of the railing.
Five seconds later, Scout landing gruffly into the arms of Soldier. “Maggot, you have ten seconds to explain to me-”
“Spy in the Intel Room! We have to get outta here! Come on!” Scout’s free hand smacked Soldier’s helmet as a gesture of distress. Soldier began to growl, square jaw going rigid as he began to run out the door.
Scout whimpered as they ran out one of the many exits around the base; not as safe as home base, but better than the RED lair. “What’s the matter with you, private?” Scout pulled his wrist from his armpit, showing the gash; the blood flowed past torn muscle and flesh, soaking his white bandages in deep crimson. “Suck it up, kid. I’ve gotten twenty times worse in my first hour of boot camp! And be thankful, wounds like these are a badge of honor for men!”
Scout sighed, placing his wrist back under his armpit and pursing his lips. In his head, Scout thought, “Soldier was defiantly a slow bastard, but it was better than being left behind with the RED Spy. Spies are all liars, they are trained to lie. It was probably some story he made up to fuck with my head. How could any of this be true?
A Scorpio! I was born October 10th, 1949. If I did this math shit right, she must have gotten knocked up in January! There’s hope! There’s-”
Scout sighed; tears flowed freely from his eyes as the reality of it all sank in. His dad died on Christmas of ’48. Well, that was when Ma got the phone call. It probably happened long before then.
According to the license his mother kept in a box on her night stand, he had brown eyes and had a big, burly frame naturally. Scout was a twig with bluish eyes. He was a bastard child.
“Life blows a lot.”
By the time they reached the base, the bleeding had almost stopped. Sadly, Soldier’s jacket and Scout’s shirt were both stained beyond salvage. Nobody was seriously injured after today’s romp, although the Demo Man sprained his ankle after falling through an unstable staircase. Although a couple sentries did fall, most of them were in a good enough condition to keep up as a defense system for a while.
Although the BLUs doubted that the other side would make another aggressive move, seeing as Soldier smashed their only Medic’s skull into pudding. BLU was fortunate to work on a bi-weekly supply delivery system; the REDs had to wait another three weeks or so for a new Medic. In all, everyone seemed to receive their well-deserved vacation.
All except for Scout. His mind raced itself in circles as he sat on his bunk, staring at his bandage. He was thankful that BLUs Spy had his fair share of knife cuts to know how to handle one. The stitching hurt tremendously, but it sounded a lot better than Soldier’s plan to amputate the entire arm with ‘Beatrice’. It was all over now, and it was time to rest up. He lost too much blood to stay awake; the team’s Heavy carried Scout to bed. “You sleep now, little man. Do not wake or else I crush legs! Night!”
Scout knew he meant well. That night he dreamed of baseball, but it was haunted by a man in a red suit cheering him on the sidelines. He woke up, sweating profusely, reaching for his lucky bat. The one he dropped in the enemy’s Intel room. “Shit.”
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