Work Text:
scout’s been.. i guess.. scout for nearly three weeks now. it’s fun, so fun!; he convinces himself as he runs across the dusty, new mexico dirt, nearly tripping over his own feet as he accidently kicks away a rock. he sneaks into one of the dark brown buildings, waiting for any unsuspecting blu’s to catch up. scout backs himself in a corner, holding his bat up and waits for the orange gate to open. being uncharacteristically quiet, the gate opens but no one walks through, at least, it doesn’t seem so. he glares around but he has his gun cocked and ready. from the corner of his eye he’s able to see smoke from behind him.
quickly running forward, he’s able to dodge the near backstab from the blu spy, who looks rather angry. perhaps this is because it’s first time being able to leave spawn due to their camping pyro; scout laughs at that, only making the spy angrier. whipping out the revolver, he’s able to blast a shot through scout’s shoulder, tanking his health down at least half. as spy’s about to charge at him again, his instincts tell him to run. and so he does.
the floorboards creak as he dashes out of the building, jumping down from the cliff and into the mines. spy follows close behind. he’s able to sneak behind the carts and corners of the small mineshaft and observes scout scrambling around in a medkit. it’s clear he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he snickers. his back is turned and he can see the blood pouring down his back, a flimsy bandage curling around his shoulder.
he flicks the switchblade in his hand, fidgeting with it while leading himself to the, poor, unsuspecting scout. he’s only able to shield a small bit of his head with his hands when scout turned around faster than he could register, and nearly bashed his entire skull in.
they’re able to lock eyes, the eerily similar gray color astonishing the both of them. spy’s cold eyes widen as do scout’s. one, two, three seconds pass and they both haven’t moved from their position. scout’s the first to react and is able to kick spy backwards, stumbling a bit he’s able to return to his normal offensive position, ready to swing again if he got any closer, eyes still trained onto spy. spy doesn’t do anything, he stares back at scout, but he can’t do anything, even with the gun in his hand.
“wha- what? you got a problem, ‘cause if ya don’t stop starin’ i’ll- i’ll!”
“what’s your name.” is that a threat; scout questions in his mind, he doesn’t recognize the emotion in his voice, it’s not exactly curious but it’s not very threatening.
“scout. aren’t ya supposed to know that already?” he holds his bat higher, hoping to get a good head hit, so neither of them have to think about this moment ever again. spy again, says nothing, seems like he’s good for nothing; scout snides.
“j… jeremy.” he answers slowly, as if saying his own name was a curse and would banish the both of them from this earth.
spy looks down at the ground, down to his hand holding the revolver.
“i’m glad,” he brings it up to his temple, and pulls the trigger.
leaving scout alone again, with nothing to do except tend to his own wound from the same revolver that ended the spy’s life and watch as his body dissolved into the dirt below.