Hey everyone. Since I'm a huge fan of TF2, I decided to make this little fanfiction that I will work on from time to time. If you're looking for shipping, look somewhere else.

The Scout sighed in an annoyed fashion as he put away his gear after another hard day of work. Yet another terrible loss for the BLU team. He walked from the changing rooms, sending a few waves at his other teammates before walking along a long corridor of the BLU base and entering the teleporter room, unable to hear himself think with the sound of all of these machines whirring. All of the teleporters were placed in neat rows, on both sides of the hallway, each with a sign stating the location it would bring you to. The Scout was amazed that TF industries had managed to get their reach and their machines to pretty much everywhere on Earth. This group of teleporters went towards different parts in Australia, these ones towards Russia, these other ones towards some parts in Asia, these others in Europe...finally, the Scout found his teleporter, placed amongst the other teleporters placed at different parts of his nation. A sign above it read "Downtown Boston, Massachusetts, USA".

A minute later, the young adult slowly climbed out of an old, abandoned factory in the working part of Brooklyn. Taking his earphones out and placing them over his ears, he began listening to some of his favourite rap artists while he waited for the bus with a bunch of nobodies, who had also finished working their menial jobs for the day. But even listening to the beats he loved so much couldn't get him in a better mood.

One last push. That was all that it would've taken for the BLU team to have finally broken their losing streak. One last push, and the cart would've fell into that stupid hole, blowing everything up in a cloud of smoke. But nooo, luck couldn't be on their side for once.

"If it hadn't been for that freakin' spy..." The Scout mumbled to himself as he boarded the crowded, smelly bus.

When the Scout had noticed that there was only a few REDs near the cart at the start of the round, he had thought that they had chickened out, and that this would be easy. But as the entire BLU team pushed the cart around the last turn before the final terminus, he realized that they weren't at the beginning because they had been building a powerful defence near the end. A sentry nest in a hard to reach area, a Demoman laying down stickies all over the track, two Soldiers, a Heavy with a Medic always by his side, a Pyro with a Backburner flanking them from behind...it was a complete and total bloodbath. The Scout had long lost the number of times the Respawn Machine had to bring him back to life and in one piece. Their entire team were only able to push the cart a few inches along before getting gibbed, shot or roasted. Over the course of 10 minutes, they had only managed to move the cart a few feet, and there was still a good amount of distance left before the explosion could take place.

During the last minute of the round, something beautiful happened: a perfect, swift attack. The BLU Medic had deployed an ubercharge on their Soldier, and they had finally managed to take down that pesky sentry. 45 seconds left. With it out of the way, they and the rest of the BLU team had tackled onto the Demo and the Heavy/Medic combo, killing all three before they could do any big damage. 30 seconds. The RED Soldiers and the Pyro come and try to attack. They kill a good amount of BLUs before getting killed themselves. 15 seconds. The Scout sees his chance. The bomb is right there, a few feet from the hole. While everyone is busy shooting each other and dying left and right, he rushes towards it, dodging projectiles coming from all directions. 10 seconds left. He reached the cart and began to push. 9. Just a bit more and they would win, just a bit more. 8. He was a foot away from the hole and about to push it in. He could already hear the cheers of the rest of his team, telling him how great he had been.

But, just as he was about to give the great, final push, he felt cold, solid steel dig into his back. The damage had came so quick, so unexpected, that the Scout couldn't have helped but to stop pushing. He let out a scream of pain as he fell to the ground, catching the red suit of the Spy who had just backstabbed him, his knife still bloody. The Administrator's voice counted down from 5 as the Frenchman grinned, tossing a half smoked cigarette onto the boy's face as he spoke loudly. "So! Your deadly skill is jogging? Mine is murdering people."

By the time the Bostan kid had respawned, he heard the Administator loudly shout "YOU FAILED!". As usual, the BLUs had received their punishment for losing: the weapons provided by Mann Co had completely deactivated themselves, making the entire BLU team defenceless. And, as usual, the RED team's weapons had gained kritz, and you could hear their laughter coming from miles around as they mercilessly hunted every member of the BLUs, executing them all. To this day, the Scout had no idea how the weapons deactivated themselves. Even the melee weapons seemed to have become nothing more than harmless toys.

What the Scout had been expecting to be wonderful cheers of admiration at the day's end became bitter remarks and insults. All thanks to one Spy. Normally, the Scout could've and would've easily replied to many of the things said to him, but he was getting a headache and just wanted to get home. He wouldn't be able to do that without going in the changing room, though, so he had to endure the comments.

"YOU MAGGOT! YOU USELESS LITTLE SHIT! YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE ENTIRE TEAM!" screamed the Soldier, who had to literally be held back by the Engineer and the Sniper to stop him from beating the Scout down with his shovel in a fit of rage.

"You are ze fastest member on our team! How did you let that Spy backstab you, you dummkopf?!" asked the Medic with a frown.

Surprisingly, the Heavy seemed to be the one who was the least angry about this loss. "You were leetle man today, but next time, you must be big man and keep pushing cart, even when coward stabs you!" said the big Russian with a smile and a very hard slap on the Scout's back, at the exact same place where he was backstabbed.

The Scout got off of the bus. It wasn't his stop, but he didn't care. He preferred to walk than to stay another minute in that God forsaken thing. He had always hated public transportations, but they were the cheapest way to get home without wasting an hour on foot. The only time in his life that he actually did like the bus was years ago, when him and his 7 older brothers would spend their lazy summer days playing a new game they made up: they would go on big, crowded buses or metros and, taking turns, they would be as loud and as obnoxious as possible. You get 1 point for every passenger who walks away from you, and 5 points if you manage to make them leave the bus or go into another metro cart. They stopped playing that game for two reasons: the first, because the drivers were starting to recognize them and refuse them entry into their vehicles, and the other, because everyone agreed that it was impossible to beat Jimmy's score, which was 130 points. After the newspapers had informed the citizens of Boston about bombings in public transportations, people became nervous of riding. Nonetheless, the 8 brothers has managed to find a full bus. All Jimmy had to do was, as soon as the bus arrived at a stop, to loudly yell "THERE'S A BOMB IN HERE!", and 26 people, including the driver himself, nearly trampled over each other as they bolted towards the exit, leaving the 8 brothers in there, laughing their asses off. Their ma didn't find it as funny. Neither did the police.

The Scout kept walking down a few streets in silence, his rap music blasting loudly into his ears. He was the youngest son, and, even at 23 years old, he still lived with his dear ma. Every single one of his older brothers had left the house. The Scout kept promising his mother that he'd find a good girl soon, and settle down and get married and all, but so far, he didn't have any luck.

Finally, he reached the nice little house. Him and his brothers had saved up their money to buy this house for their ma. It wasn't very different from every other house in this residential area, but it was so much better than the apartment in the slums that they used to live in. A nice little yard in the front and the back, and a solid brown roof for a beige coloured house. The Scout slowly walked up the small path leading to the door and came in.

"I'm home, ma!" he called out as soon as he walked in. His mom was in the living room, on his left. The dinner table and the kitchen were on the right, and a small stairway leading upstairs, along with a hallway leading to the back of the house, were in front of him. His mother smiled at him.

"Oh, Nathan, honey, you're just in time! I have someone I'd like you to meet." Nathan rolled his eyes. He was called "Scout" so often during work that his real name seemed odd. And who was this person he'd have to meet? Probably some blind date set up by his ma so he can finally start going out.

But, when he stepped into the living room, he suddenly wished it could've been a date.

On the couch, there he sat. That red leather ski mask. That repulsive cigarette on his lips. His red suit, opened up in a more casual fashion. His black gloves and matching black shoes. He sat there, his lips curling up into a smile as he stared at the boy he backstabbed a few hours ago.

The Spy. The RED Spy. In Nathan's house.

"Nathan, I'd like you to meet Richard." said the happy mother, oblivious to the shocked face his son was giving. Then, she said the words that confirmed Nathan's worst fears. "He's my new boyfriend!"