No Place Like Home: - Introduction.

Heya! :) This is my first TF2 Fanfiction, but I decided to revise the story a bit. (Sorry for those of you that read/reviewed it before!) So I hope you enjoy it again or from the beginning.

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"Victory."

The single word echoed over the rolling terrain of the dustbowl and for a second, not a sound was made. The momentary silence was cut short though as the sounds of cheers erupted from one corner of the battlefield to the other from a band of scarlet-wearing mercenaries. Shorter still was the time they took to cut down their fleeing foes, the sound of gunfire and slicing blades adding to the pungent smell of war that thickened the already stifling hot air as their feet pounded the sand beneath them.

It had been a long and arduous day for Team RED who had been fighting for hours to defend the base, but their efforts were not in vain. They had beaten back their foes. While some, like the surreptitious Spy headed straight to the showers, others like Demoman simply dragged themselves to the housing quarters and fell to sleep in the lounge.

Scout was among those - wanting peace and quiet after such an exhausting day - who returned to their rooms and a room was just what one would call it. It was white walled, with a little furniture and a bed. Of course Scout has made some minor alterations to his bedroom, such as putting up posters of his favourite baseball team, the Boston Red Sox. He had also filled up the wardrobe with clothes revolving around his passion for the American past time. In contrast to this, and looking very much out of place, was a woolly sweater hung over the back of a chair that sat – very much unused since the youth mainly spent all his time out on his feet – in front of a wooden desk that was equally abandoned.

Stranger still however, was the white envelope that sat on the dark polished surface, the colour standing out almost luminescent against it. Curiously, Scout picked up the letter; the name "Alex" was neatly written on the front of the white paper, nothing like the messy scrawl he received from his mother's letters. He smiled, envisioning her scribbling away excitedly, nose almost touching the paper as her hand tried it's best to keep up with her racing thoughts. She frequently wrote to him and sent him presents every Christmas and birthday, which was the source of the greatly appreciated sweater as the desert nights often reached an unbearable freezing that even the heating couldn't ward off.

Eager to find out who had written to him, Scout crossed the room and in three strides had sat down on his bed and begun to tear away at the envelope. He was struck immediately by how formal the letter looked as it plopped out onto his lap. Gulping, Scout lifted it to his face to read, the thickness of the glossy paper making itself known and washing unease over him, what if someone at home had died?

His anxieties quickly melted away.

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Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it :)