Well... the chan's been wiped. I suppose it could be worse though, right? When I pulled up the page yesterday and the screen said "This Account Has Been Suspended" I could have gone on some flip-out tangent fume about getting 'Suspended' for nothing, bingeing on ice-cream and wondering how I was ever going to read the amazing works of TenCentBastard, CatBountry, TeratoMarty, Eximplode, and all the rest ever again.... I could've, but I didn't. Anywho, reposting just in case anyone who happened to read it actually liked it. And again, ComCrit please.
The fire crackled and licked at the air, throwing soft, heated light across the mercenaries' faces. The men sat together 'round the campfire, smoking and joking and swapping stories without a worry in the world. The night was young, and tomorrow held new adventures and gruesome battles for the whole team, so they figured, why the hell not enjoy a little old fashioned time together? Pyro and Scout had a couple of metal pokers over the flames, roasting tender hot dogs and fluffy marshmallows for s'mores and a casual dinner. Engineer had his acoustic guitar in hand, heartily strumming a southern melody whilst Sniper played to the beat with his lap drum, making very pleasant, laid-back campfire music. Medic listened to the rhythm with a sort of reverence, and let it carry him away with content eyes shut. Demoman, Heavy, and Soldier were comparing war stories, trying to prove who had endured through the worst circumstances, who had escaped death by the thinnest hair. Spy was sitting by himself, dress coat off, white sleeves of his undershirt rolled up to his elbows, staring into the fire as if it were a code he couldn't quite decipher. Scout pulled his skewers out of the flames, finding a strange little joy in blowing out the blackened, crispy marshmallows. "Alright Pyro, I'd uh, I'd say these bad boys're done." "Mm, vrry nrrce! Hrrr," Pyro extracted buns, graham crackers, and chocolate bars from behind the log they sat on. The two set about preparing their snacks. "Ah wus craddlin' me eyeball, Ah sey! Like this!" Demoman held his hand up to his face. "Tha' bloodeh thing wus still attached buy a few nerves, and ah'll tell yah now, ah don't think ah've felt a pain stronger than tha' of yer own eyeball lollopin' aboot in the open." Heavy tapped his chin. "Perhaps pain of thousand bullets piercing flesh? Is very bad. Pain runs deep, strikes soul. Worse if have to see teammates taking bullets as well." "You cupcakes think you know pain!? You know NOTHING of pain until you've had to shovel your own intestines back into your own—!" "It never happened, Soldier," Spy muttered, not even bothering to glance at the self-proclaimed sergeant. "So please, stop telling ze story as if it did." Solder looked like a furious balloon on the brink of popping before Sniper off-handedly intervened. "Aw, quit knockin' 'im, Spy. Digger want's to tell his story, let 'im. It's a good listen." Spy snorted, but didn't retort. Scout held up the hot dog plates. "Yo, who's hungry?" Engineer paused in his strumming. "Ooh. Pass a couple o' those doggies my way, son." "I'll have one, too," Sniper chimed, placing his drum beside him. Scout sent the plates around. "Try em. I think Pyro's onto som'n with these." "Hrrr, thrrrks Scrrrt. Rr trry," Pyro waved off. Sure, he knew how a flame worked on food, but the skill wasn't anything special. Pyro didn't think so, at least. Heavy caught himself eyeing the dogs as they moved around the circle. His stomach voiced it's own personal opinion on the luscious-looking food. "Could leetle man pass three?" "Yeah, sure thing, big guy." Scout didn't mind Heavy calling him 'Leetle man' off the battlefield. It was almost — though Scout would never dream of admitting it to anyone — nice that the not-so-gentle giant had a nickname for him. It meant that Heavy respected him a little, right? At least, respected what Scout did as a member of the team. As long as Heavy didn't do anything stupid, like pat him on the head or something, Scout didn't mind. The Russian accepted his plate graciously. Scout glanced over his shoulder at Spy. When he called to the older man his eyes were joking, but his tone was earnest. "Yo, Frenchie, you want anything?" "I do not eat hot dogs, boy." There was tinge of venom in his voice, which Scout recognized as deep annoyance. Dude was clearly pissed about something that had happened on the battlefield that day. Something that, perhaps, had happened multiple times in succession. Scout wasn't the comforting type when it came down to how his teammates felt about this or that. He did, however, hold as much respect for Spy as he felt for everyone else on the team, and didn't enjoy seeing him carry nasty vibes on his shoulder hours after the fight was over and done with. He figured he could make an exception this once. Scout sat himself back down, grabbed a plate from the plastic sleeve by Pyro, bunned a hot dog, gave it a thin line of ketchup, and then put together a fresh s'more with a little extra chocolate. He then took the plate to Spy and parked himself right beside the Frenchman, plate offered openly. Spy flicked his eyes to the food, then back at the fire, shaking his head. "C'mon man. Eat som'n. You know what Doc says about skippin' meals." He nudged the plate a little closer. "I do not care what ze doctor says, Scout." "C'mon.... Can't go backstabbin' Snipers on an empty tank, right?" From across the fire, Medic snorted. It was weak humor, but Scout was trying. Still, no reply, no glance. "A'ight, a'ight, I'll bite. What happened; Pyros got ya down—" "NO, Scout!" Spy shouted abruptly and shot up. All heads turned his way. "Ze Pyros do not 'got me down'; it is you! It was zat fucking Scout! Every time I pulled out a mask, he's zere; every time I cloaked and snuck through zeir base, he is zere; every time I go to sap ze dispensers, he is fucking ZERE!! Ugh, I wanted to murder him; I wanted to wring zat little, scrawny neck of his!" Scout put his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, hey now—" "But I could not do it! Because everywhere I turn, I was met wiz a metal bat. I did not even get ze time to react! It was as if zat annoying twit was after me, personally!!" "'Ey!! I resent that!" "Mon dieu," Spy finally fell back into his seat, head in hands. "Dominated by a twelve-year-old rabbit. Who cries every time he zees a rainbow! I was dominated by a fruit cup!" Demoman knew that now wasn't the time, he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. He tried stifling his laughter unsuccessfully, which wound up egging Soldier into laughing too, then Sniper, then Pyro, and pretty soon everyone was laughing their asses off. Except Scout. They were all laughing at him. Oh, they wouldn't say it, they'd slap him on the back, tell him to loosen up, grab a drink, quit havin' such a stick up his ass. They'd make it out to be Spy's wording they were laughing at, the whole predicament in general, of just how stupid it was that a Scout, of all classes, had dominated Spy. His lips never even twitched upwards. The laughter began to die down. Oh, man, the things running through Scout's head. Oh, the things he could say, the obscenities that waited on the tip of his tongue, the venom he so desperately wished he could spit into their eyes. He'd tried to be nice to Spy, tried to be the pal everyone knew he wasn't, and this was the thanks he got. "Fuck you, Spy." The Frenchman looked at the man with amused, semi-interested eyes. "It ain't fuckin' funny, so quit fuckin' laughin' about it — you don' know what happened." "Oh ho ho? Zere is a story behind zis rainbow-phobia?" Scout leered into the fire, trying to tune out the chuckles that seemed to surround him. In those bitter blue eyes, Spy suddenly saw a flicker of an emotion he'd never seen in the man before. A small voice within him genuinely wondered if something traumatic had happened. But honestly, how bad could it have been? They were talking about rainbows, for heaven's sake. As pissed as Scout was, as bad as he wanted to bash Spy's head in for making light of his gut-jerk reaction to the organic spectacles, he kept himself in check. He wasn't a kid; he could be reasonable if the situation really called for it. And besides, it was about time they knew. He was sick of being thought of as a teenager. A pussy of a teenager. He was fucking twenty-two, for God's sake. He looked up from the fire and began his story.
"Back at home, things were hard, a'ight? You gotta understand that. It wasn't always that way, but once you cross that line, there ain't no goin' back. "My family lived in the suburbs. Y'know, the poor part. Police sirens every night, gangs all over the place, ya get it. My dad was a good guy, but he didn't have solid education an' couldn't hold onto a job longer than a couple months. Ma worked nights on and off, but she never told us what she did. Still won't tell us, but it don't matter, it payed. "But yeah, we were dog-shit poor. We lived in an apartment with a broken heater, which sucked at winter 'cuz then me an' my brotha's all had to sleep in the same room like eight gay sardines all cramped up together on the floor—" "Is zere a point to zis, Scout, or are you simply begging for pity now?" "Shut the hell up, Frenchie! I'm gettin' there. "But, yeah. We were cramped, and we didn't get dinner most of the time. An' when we did get good dinner it wasn't legit, if you know what I'm sayin'. Dad lied about it all the time, but c'mon, no one just 'throws away' a perfectly good chicken. That's probably why most of my brotha's still went to high school; there was a baseball team, and there was food. "The baseball team was all that got me through high school. It's the only reason I put up with the dumbass teachers, an' their dumbass homework, because I fuckin' love baseball, an' I didn't wanna get kicked off the team for failin'. None of us did. We did our shit, an' then we packed up an' walked down to the, ah, to this park right off Atlantic Ave., what was it—Christopher Columbus Park, that was it. Gay-ass name, but had a fuckin' sweet diamond. And yeah, we'd play for hours, 'til the sky got that weird technicolor thing goin', with the purple clouds, an' the orange sky. But yeah, anyways. "So we practice out there, and we usually get the park to ourselves at night 'cuz it's right next to the harbor which is right next to the ocean, and it gets cold as fuck out there, but we don't care 'cuz we're goddamn baseball junkies an' that's how we roll. But one night we show up, and there's some guys out there already usin' the diamond. No big deal, right? We figure, hey, maybe we can practice with these guys, break the routine a little. So we talk to 'em; turns out they're the pricks from Liberty High's baseball team. They kill us every time we play 'em, an' they're always so fuckin' cocky about it, too. "My big brotha' Mike don't like sharin' his stuff with pricks, so he gets all up in their faces, tells 'em to kindly be fucking off and finding their own diamond 'cuz this one's ours; we was there first. Well they're guy, Nathan White, he gets all up in Mike's face sayin' that we wasn't there an hour ago, so finders keepers. Mike starts gettin' a little pissy, says that we've been practicin' here since middle school, it's our turf, we ain't lettin' no Liberty chumps use our shit, all that. Then one of their other guys said som'n, I don't remember what, but it pissed off my other brotha' Vince like you would not believe, and before I know it, boom, he's at his neck like a fuckin' beast. "Now I'm thinkin' hell yeah, let's kill these Liberty fagolas, but Mike and their guys start try'na pull Vince off'a the other guy, so that ain't happenin'. Once Vince cools down, Mike tells 'em we don't want no trouble, just our fuckin' diamond back. They huddle up, talk, an' agree to leave. It was a little weird though, 'cuz it had an edge to it. Like, 'fine, whatever, but you'll get yours'. We didn't care; we got the diamond, showed them Liberty fags who the real players were here, an' way to go Vince for scarin' 'em off an' all but seriously, we don't want him pickin' fights because last time he wound up in court for it. An' he's our best slugger so we ain't lettin' that shit go down again. "Well about two weeks pass an' we don't see those Liberty fags in our park again. We're steppin' up our game an' we win the next two games we play. Mom's been makin' a bit more than usual, so not only is the rent clear for the month, but we get the first decent, totally legit dinners we've had in a while. The Liberty fags show up here an' there, but we kick 'em to the curb. Our fuckin' turf, man, and they don't put up much of a fuss over it, which is weird I guess because the other schools tell stories about what happens to people that screw around with the Liberty baseball team that give me chills, but whatever. Life's lookin' good for a while. "October rears its ugly head, and the Liberty fags come with it. We catch 'em usin' our diamond again one night, only this time there's a cop car parked close by. Apparently, Nathan didn't like us defending what's fuckin' ours to begin with, and went bitchin' to his dad. Who happens to be the Police Chief, by the way. My more reasonable brotha', Derek, he tries talkin' with them, tryin' to pull some kinda diplomacy compromise let's-all-be-friends-and-talk-about-our-feelings bullshit which they ain't havin', and neither am I, to be honest. Anyone who has to drag the fuckin' heat into som'n is a raw pussy. "I'm pissed as hell, we're all pissed as hell. We can't try nothin' 'cuz there's his cop of a dad, sittin' right there watchin' us, waitin' for one of us to snap so he can throw the cuffs on us. I, personally, don't care what his fag dad does to me, but the guys say no way, Ma an' Dad needs us more than we need the diamond. The Liberty fags get our diamond, and we get nothin' but a long walk home. An' nobody says a goddamn thing. "Around the end of October, Ma starts getting the coughs. It's the bad kind, too, like when they hunch over and you can hear their throat gettin' ripped up? I know, it's like a hangover, but in your throat instead of your skull. Anywho, Ma's coughin' every day, an' she's loosin' her voice. We can't afford no doctor so we take her to Mrs. Gibus on the first floor of our complex. Real sweet black lady, kinda fat, who makes these frickin' amazing cookies for us after a big game, but hell if I'm screwin' with her shit when she gets mad. She sounds like one of those preachers when she's pissed, which makes me laugh so hard I can't breathe, but I can't do that around her or she'll hit me upside the head so hard my stars'll see stars. That's probably why most white people stay the hell away from her; she'll knock your teeth out of you try pushin' her around. "But anyway, yeah, Mike and I take Ma down to Mrs. Gibus because she knows all kinds of home remedies for stuff like this. She brings us inside, sits Ma down, whose fist looks stuck in front of her mouth, 'cuz it's always there. Mrs. Gibus shakes her head, does that little number, 'Mmm! Mmm, mmm, Lord have mercy,' and starts pullin' out these garlic buds from her kitchen and gives one of the little slivers to her. Tells her to smell it, drink in the fumes. Ma can't stand the stench, and neither can Mike and I, but Mrs. Gibus says it'll help so we hang tight. Ma's coughin' harder, but she tries her damnedest to keep smellin' it. Mrs. Gibus tells me to go get another clove, but when I go in there I hear Ma hurl and Mike shoutin' 'Holy fuck!' and Mrs. Gibus shoutin' 'Good God!' which means it's really bad if she's not even slappin' Mike for cussin', so I come runnin' back, and I swear guys, I almost fuckin' died right there, 'cuz, I mean, there was red. Like, all over the table, all over the floor, all over Ma's chin."
"Ma's in the hospital, but we got no fuckin' clue how we're gonna pay for it. I mean, hell, we can barely afford the monthly rent! Lucky for us, Joey's been datin' the Hospital Head's daughter for about a year, so they pull a couple strings for us. Thank God for Joey, man. "Since Ma made all the money, we all had to start gettin' part-time jobs. Dad wound up landin' a job unloadin' stock crates for the local supermarket. Vince an' Mike wound up workin' at the local movie joint, and Derek got himself a spot at the ice cream parlor. Er, wait— no, I think Mike got the ice cream job an' Derek was with Vince at the theatre. Well, wait, that can't be right 'cuz Vince always came home with sticky hands. Although I guess that could've been from spillin' the slushies everywhere—" "Scout, does it matter?" "Hey, no, you. Koala-for-brains. Shut up. I'm tellin' the story he'e." "..." "Anywho, so... yeah. We're all bustin' our asses to pay Ma's medical bills. I tried my damnedest to get a job, but the best I got was workin' a register. Not much, but hell, it was somethin'. "I didn't tell nobody, but I didn't get much sleep for about a week after I saw Ma's insides on the floor. When I did, I had nightmares. Bad ones, too. Like, the kind you wake up screamin' from. I think I actually did that once, too. Woke up the whole floor, I think. Wasn't a good day. "But yeah. Things got rough for us. All the money we make's for Ma's bills, so we got next-to-nothin' to pay the rent with. Our landlord knows what happened and understands what we're goin' through, so he cuts us a little slack which we're grateful for, but that slack ain't gonna last forever and we know it. It's 'cuz Ma's a great person an' always manages to get the rent in on time, but it's only 'cuz'a dat. "Mike an' I go back to the hospital to find out what happened. Doc tells us Ma has stomach ulcers." Medic closed his eyes and shook his head knowingly, muttering, "Geschwüre. Tsk Tsk... Schreckliche Sachen." Scout didn't pretend to know what he'd said and continued. "Mike looked at me when he heard that, then got all head-in-hands depressed. Like he was expecting it to be ulcers, or some shit. I didn't know what the hell they were talkin' about, so the doc told me. Holes in her stomach. I didn't flip, but I almost did. Then he told us the rest. Ma had taken up smoking a couple months ago, which is what started the ulcers. Stress made 'em worse. Mike an' I did the math after our serious case of 'what the hell?' wore off. Sure enough, it was a month ago when she started gettin' the coughs. Seemed like the right amount of time for any smoke to start kickin' in. But we was confused as hell. We'd never seem Ma touch a cigarette once. Doc showed us the X-rays, though, in case we didn't buy it. "He told us that it was curable, the ulcers, but it would take a ton of drugs. Ma could come home, but she'd be in bed for a long time. Mike an' I were glad to hear Ma was okay and comin' home an' all, but when we looked at each other, man, I could almost hear the fucks runnin' though his head. Drugs ain't cheap, and we needed a shit-ton of 'em. "We bring Ma home, safe an' sound. First thing everyone does is smother her in hugs, 'cuz thank God she's alive, an' we all thought she was a goner. She kinda laughs, but it's real quiet 'cuz she's still hurtin'. Dad holds her, gets all gushy with her, an' she still looks tired as hell but she's happy, and so's Dad. I hadn't even realized how little time they get together. Ma's got us in the morning, an' work all night, an' Dad's always either at his job, or lookin' for one. With Ma home all the time, even if she's got a Swiss-cheese stomach, they'll finally get some quality time together. Stupid as it sounds, it actually made me feel pretty good. Ma won't be alone most of the day, now. "Mrs. Gibus pays us a visit when she hears Ma's back an' alright. Old woman's been worried dizzy since she saw her puke blood. We let her in, an' when she sees Ma she hugs her and starts cryin', but without the tears. She grabs Ma's hand in her own, says somethin' about how pale she looks, how horrible it is that somethin' so awful should happen to Ma 'cuz she's a good woman an' works so hard for us. Mike tells her about the ulcers, an' she slaps a hand over her chest, all scared. She shakes her head an' says 'I knew it, lawd, I knew it! These boys have gotcho run ragged, Martha! They've done pushed you to yo wits end! Y'all should be ashamed'a yo'selves, runnin' yo poor mother straight to her death bed. Lawd Jesus.' But then she says somethin' else, an' I don't really hear, or maybe I did but I just don't know what the hell she meant, an' she waddles out of our apartment. She comes back with a little shiny purse; the kind that, like, shine every color of the rainbow everywhere when you put it in the sun an' move it. She opens that thing an' pulls out a wad of cash. I mean, I was like, 'holy shit, woman! That's a lot of cash!' But then she slapped me an' I had to shut up. "She gives my Dad the roll an tells him that was her dead grandma's money, an' even though it wasn't much, grandma always believed in helpin' out friends any way she could. It was for the drugs, an' nothin' else. Told Ma to get plenty of rest, an' call if she needed anything. Then she left. "We didn't say nothin'. Dad just stared at the money, all wide-eyed, an' brought it to Ma. They both looked at it, and then they hugged each other an' cried. We all cried, I think. We could afford Ma's drugs, an' she was gonna be okay. "We had enough of each drug to last her a month, with a little left over. We kept workin' though. Barely had time for schoolwork, and baseball wasn't even in the picture anymore. Burned me up somethin' fierce, that did. Those Liberty fags were probably messin' up our diamond. Fuckin' pricks. It shouldn't have irritated me so bad in hindsight, but.... goddamn, it was fuckin' Liberty! Any other high school, maybe, but not fuckin' Liberty. "That ate my ass for days. I couldn't focus half the time. Takin' tests at school, ringin' up some guy at the store, homework, I couldn't shake it. Walkin' home was worst, though, 'cuz I had to pass our diamond on the way. It would always be empty, but I knew. I fuckin' knew who'd be there in a few hours. That diamond was everything to me, man. I learned how to swing on that thing! It was, like, where my life began. And those Liberty fags were just prancin' all over it. All over my life. "Then, I finally snapped."
I really like this so far. I can really HEAR the voice of Scout when I read it and you've nailed his accent and speech pattern to a tee. More plz?
I love this story. I can't wait to see how this all ties into rainbows.
Ohman Moar! This is awesome.
I LOVE IT!!! You should DEFIANTLY continue...
>>8 YES DEFIANTLY WITH YOUR CHIN HIGH AND YOUR CHEST OUT DEFY THINGS AND CONTINUE
Hm, the post numbers missing or is it just me? Anyways, in response to chai's comment. I also think dialogue is done very well, Scout's personality shines though and it's not distracting or anything. Good stuff. On the other hand, his accent isn't technically consistant. For example, he says he'e to replace here at one point, and brotha instead of brother, but park isn't changed, for example. So I'm not sure how accurate it would be to say LS nailed it. On the third hand, it works wonderfully as it is and doing more could hurt readability. So actually I agree with what you're saying, haha
10 Ah, I see what you mean. I dunno. I don't know that many Boston American type accents but from the few I've heard (mostly on the telly), American accents tend to fluctuate with words depending on how excited one is or if they are in a hurry. But looking back over it, I see what you are saying and I didn't really catch the variances in spelling. As long as I can actively 'hear' the character, it works for me. If a writer has done well, you'll unconsciously read it in the character's 'voice' and I gotta say, she/he/octopus hit it for me in that sense.
CHAI. How'd you figure out that I'm an octopus. Are you spying on me? Are your ninja-spies in my den? Because I worked HARD to hide that from everyone.
>>12 I'M SORRY TO BLOW YOUR COVER AND EXPOSE YOUR OCTOPUSSY NATURE TO EVERYONE. ...I am not a Spy. Just a SEXY AS HELL Marine Biologist.
>>13 OCTO-PUSSY NATURE Oh my Octo-God, what are you trying to say about me, chai!? My offense burns like the rage of a thousa— *INK'd* Aw, shit, now look what you did. I can't finish the story with a deep-sea keyboard covered in ink. It's all your fault, you devilish water scientist, you.
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>>14 Dammit chai, I need this story! Stop making Lightning ink! (EPIPHANY: "Lightning Ink": glowing ink that zaps people! Marketable to spahs!) (sorry about all the exclamation marks. I was excited.)
>>16 Oh, but we've already got Lightning-Ink down here. TentaSpy uses it all the time against those Pistol-Sniper-Shrimp that come lurking now and again. Works like a charm, it does. Now, about this filthy keyboard... *deep-sea Windex*
M'SRY all. And toss out out that Widex. All you need is Underwater Cillit Bang! SERIOUSLY. Now get back to work, you! ...So I can hear why Scoot is such an adorable crybaby.
Okay, so! After finally finding some Underwater Chillit Bang and relentlessly scrubbing with all eight arms, I finally got the ink out from in between the keys. My shiny, clean deep-sea keyboard makes me preen. May I never have to do it again. Now then, have a freshly squeezed chapter. >>18 Adorable Scoot, you say? I wouldn't be so sure. *strokes non-existant octo-beard* --- "I started makin' the plan in February an' had it ironed out by April, just in time for baseball season. "I waited for a school day to hit with light homework. Knocked it all out in class, then after school I took a shortcut home. Used a pay phone on the street, called in sayin' I wouldn't be able to make it to work. Boss said it was fine, I'd earned a day off. Walked my way home like normal, got to the apartment before my brotha's for once. Dropped my stuff an' ran to dig my bat out from our gear closet fast as I could, 'cuz I knew I didn't have too much time. Ma asked if I could get her another blanket while I was up, so I did. She saw the bat an' asked me where I was goin'. Told her my boss gave me the day off so I was gonna go dust off my battin' hand before baseball season started up, an' no, I wasn't goin' practicing with Mike, why the hell would I be, an' yes all my homework's done, thanks Ma, an' sure, I'll wear a coat, why the hell not, an' yes, I know there's a storm on the way, I'll be fine, an' no, I won't stay out too long, promise, an' yes, I'll be careful, love you too, Ma, bye. "Ma was right, storm clouds're comin' from the left, but no big deal. I'm walkin' back to the diamond with this itch in my wrist. I can feel it in my bat, too, weird as that sounds. I've had it before, usually right before a big game. It means I wanna hit somethin', an' I wanna hit somethin' fuckin' hard. My bat feels a little lighter than usual, but I'm thinkin' it's the itch. The itch gives you a fast swing, right? 'Course it does. Which is good, 'cuz I'm'unna need to be fast as hell for what I'm 'bout to do to those Liberty fags. "An' I wasn't jus' doin' it for me, a'ight? I mean, I was pissed about not bein' able to play in forever, but it wasn't just me. It was, frickin', Mike, Jonnie, Derek, Chris, Vince, Joey, Greg... we were all eight of us pissed off. I just didn't get why Mike an' Chris stopped Vince from tearin' 'em up that one time. They're usually jumpin' for the first punch. I mean, that's kinda why I got to runnin' in the first place, an' now here they don't even wanna start som'n. I wasn't havin' that shit, not this time. Maybe they didn't have the nuts to take on Liberty, but it ain't my fault they listen to stupid rumors. It's not like they're real or anythin'. But anyways. "So I'm walkin' an' then I get to the diamond... an'... Christ..." Scout shut his eyes and let his head fall into his hands. Some of them looked up at the abrupt movement. Moments passed before Scout spoke again, and when he did he didn't look up immediately. "Ho-ly shit... Guys, our fuckin' diam– they killed our fuckin' diamond. Like, here: the whole fuckin' park's soggy an' gross, right? Y'know, like it should be in the middle of fuckin' April after two rainstorms that week. But I get there – the grass is green as a fuckin' crayon, the dirt's new an' un-frickin'-touched, the bases're all white an' shiny an' clean, the chain-link ain't rusty, ain't got no holes torn through it, an' the mound's, like... not flat; it's a fuckin' mound again!" There was a brief silence when Heavy chose to hesitantly raise his hand. "But, leetle man say Liberty kill diamond. Dese tings sound... very good." "The Hell they are!! Liberty destroyed every-fuckin'-thing that made that diamond ours! All the channels in the dirt, the scuff marks an' bald patches in the grass, the torn-up bases with dirt caked all over 'em, the busted wires from that one lucky curve ball Johnnie threw back in '55 an' we didn' stop talkin' about it for like, two whole weeks — it-it was all gone!! Just, gone! Like none of it even happened!! They had the school throw, like, some fun'raiser or some shit, an' fuck up the diamond to wipe us off it! "See, that's how shit works. If it don't look used, it's fair game until someone scuffs it or som'n. You dent it, it's yours; it's got you on it. Diamond had us on it, so it was ours. Now? We can't defend it no more! Our 'us' is gone!" Scout clenched his face in his hands roughly, a mixture of fury and misery pulsing through his body. It wasn't the full emotion, not as it had been that day, years ago, but it was enough to make his shoulders tremble. The unconscious action didn't go unnoticed by his teammates. "It was all we fuckin' had, man..." After a few long, fraught moments, Scout took a deep breath and sat back up, face sobered and grim. "I look up an' see a couple cars pull up to the side of the road. Nice cars, prob'ly Fords. Two guys come outta each, an' Nathan White's one of 'em. They shut the doors, wave g'bye to whoever the hell's drivin', then turn an' see me an' stop. I look right at Nathan, an' for a moment, just a moment, he looks at me like, of course I showed up, he knew I'd be here, pleasant surprise. That pissed me off. "But, I played it off cool. Nodded to 'em, swung my bat over my shoulders, asked 'em how things were goin', all that junk. They were givin' me sideways looks, Nathan was sizin' me up, but they said things were goin' well. I'm watchin' their cars the whole time out the corner of my eye, waitin' for 'em to get the hell outta dodge, an' they do. I ask how practice's been goin', they say it's been pretty great. I said great, that's real great, but the storm's gettin' closer so the thunder cuts me off. "Then Nathan comes outta nowhere an' asks if I 'like what his school's done with the diamond'. It didn't sound like anythin' bad, but I saw it in his fuckin' face. He knew exactly what I thought about their fuckin' patch-job. He stole our diamond by our own fuckin' rules. I hated him worse'n I've hated anyone since that day. Jesus... I hate when they play by the fuckin' rules! "Could'a messed up my bat, I was wringin' its neck so hard. But, hey, I didn' do nothin' yet. Four'a them, one'a me, I wasn't that stupid. To be serious, though, I wasn't expectin' there to be four of 'em, so I had t'kinda... change things up a bit. I wanted to crack his skull in, an' I wanted to do it when all his little buddies could see, but, y'know, they'd kick my ass, so... Yeah. Plan B. "I asked Nathan if I could, y'know, have a li'l one-on-one with 'em. He got that 'of couse' look on his face again, fuckin' Nathan, but he said sure an' told his guys to go 'head without him. They kinda laughed, but they get stretchin' anyway. They're eyein' me as they stretch, too, like, y'know, they don't think I'll do anythin' stupid, but I could. "I walk us closer to the trees as it starts drizzlin' so it's just him an' me, can't believe I was thinkin' I could talk him outta this, but I get in close an' I go, 'Look White, I dunno what made you guys wanna start usin' our field, but here's the thing. You guys? Are from a whole 'nother side'a Boston, an'a whole 'nother place in, like, the world. You can't, jus', like, take our shit. An' I know whatche' thinkin' but listen a'ight? You guys – I saw those cars a'yours, an' they don' look too cheap. You guys got shit. You got a lotta shit. You know what I got? I got a glove, a bat, a ball, an' that's about it. Like, that's all. My brotha's an' I ain't got too much other'n baseball gear. We ain't got money. Hell, we barely got an apartment. What the hell happened to your other diamond that you can't use it? 'Cuz this diamond? This park? It's the only thing we know we have out here. This is where Cambridge practices at. We don' want you Liberty fags on our turf, we don't want you 'fixing' our turf, we just want our fuckin' diamond back, 'cuz it's the only diamond we got. So if you could just, y'know, take you an' your guys back to–' an' then I remember, Liberty's one'a those fancy schools that's got it's own diamond. I say, 'wait a sec, don't you guys have your own fuckin' diamond? Use that one! What the hell're you doin' with our shit when you got your own in your fuckin' backyard!?'" Scout paused, took a deep breath, let his head drop lightly, and touched his hands together. His words were slow and deliberate. "Okay.... I'm not, an unreasonable person, most'a the time. I know that... y'know, us guys have fun screwin' with each other. Sometimes we screw around a little, sometimes we screw around a lot. I've fucked with my brotha's plen'y'a times, an' God knows they've fucked my shit up just as bad for it. But... when it's... when it's baseball, an' how we play it... an' you start fuckin' with that...? When you fuck around that bad with mine an' my brotha's home plate... for shits'n giggles... That is the fuckin' line an' Nathan White crossed it so hard it— Rrrgh!!" Scout clenched his fists and forced himself to keep talking. "That's what he said. He said their own fuckin' diamond wasn't interesting an' didn't have a fuckin' view like the one in our park, an' that ours was ten times nicer an' it'd be just perfect as their new fuckin' diamond once they — cleaned the slum-scum off...!!" Scout clenched his jaw tight, fists shaking. The man looked like he was about to snap, right there in front of them all. Spy found himself edging away from him, just in case. But Scout didn't snap. He unclenched his fists, loosened his jaw, and slowly, carefully breathed. A shadow of a smirk flicked across his lips. He lightly snickered. Sniper had been listening with an initially arbitrary interest, and had sensed the underlying rage steadily build within Scout. He could feel it radiating in the air around him. But something had just changed within Scout; something deep, subtle. That rage was changing into something much darker and fiercer than what any of them were used to seeing in him, on or off the battlefield. Sniper was intrigued, as were few other members who had also detected the change. A small voice in Sniper's mind wondered if this same shift had happened that day, years ago. "I always thought it was funny," Scout spoke, "how Liberty would act all cocky after every game they played. They didn't go throwin' jabs left an' right like we did, but it was in their faces. They walked with this real showy attitude an' real thin sneers. They thought they knew us. They thought they knew exactly what was gonna happen. They thought they had seen every trick in the book. The Liberty team thought it was un-frickin'-touchable." Scout chuckled. It wasn't his normal laugh. There was no joy in it. He didn't speak for a while. His eyes beamed into the fire, and he seemed to see something inside the crackling blaze that none of the others could or ever would. For a moment he was no longer sitting on a log with eight other mercenaries, but he was back in Boston on the Christopher Columbus Park baseball diamond five years ago, doing something horrible to Nathan White. Scout's silence, like his smile, grew unsettling. A sobered Demoman spoke up. "Didjeh bash'im upsuide th'head, then?" Scout laughed, straightened, and shook his head. "Nah, man, he would've survived that."
I'm so excited like Fuck! Write more! Write So Much more!
Interesting. Really, really interesting. You know how to write like Scout and make it stick. You can hear him in it. Which, to me, means a job well done. I hope you continue on this.
I'm not, an unreasonable person, most'a the time. Suuuure, Scout. Sure you are. I feel like revenge is coming and brudda, it's gonna be nasty. Well written! Spy's thinking 'Why do I always sit next to the crazy ones! Goddammit!'
>>22 Hah! He's either thinking that, or, "If this is how he gets over a little baseball diamond, then I pray he never learns what his mother's job was, or I'm a dead man."
Holy shit, it doesn't even have rainbows and it's still fucking awesome. Please do continue.
>>24 Not yet, it doesn't, but just you wait. *smirk* And thank you so much, Toaster! Your praise has been crushed into a meaty paste to feed my ego.
I HOPE YOU KNOW I'M SHAKING WITH EXCITEMENT I'M SERIOUS FFGGHGH I'm really excited for the next part I can't wait. You're amazing, please stay forever.
>>26 Yoouuuuuu bastard. I thought there was update. sage sage sage derp sage
I'm deliberately not saging just to fuck off all you Sage-Ragers. Finally, the answers to the ultimate question. This is awesome, I can totally hear his voice and can't wait for an update.
>>28 HahaHAA! Sage-haters! You're funny— *INK'D* Goddamn it. That'll take another week of scrubbing. Nice job, swimming ferret. Now we all hate you.
Oh, and before I forget, I must clarify. It will, in fact, be a while before I update. I have, *ahem*, much work to finish before Christmas hits. Apologies.
Merry week-early Christmas? Aw, I should be doing that work I said I had to finish. But damnit, I just can't stay away. I'm not sure how to feel about this chapter. I think I ended it in an awkward place. Maybe. I may need a beta for this, too. My own eyes can only catch so many mistakes, but obviously. I also notice how most comments on this story are admiring how I seemed to nail Scout's voice. I'm flattered; hope I still have it in this installment. But please, ComCrit on the story! Okay, me shut face now. Have the second-to-final chapter. --- Demoman's eyebrows flew up, unsure of what he'd heard but too intrigued by its implications to rush the story along with questions. Scout kept smiling that wide, off-kilter grin as he went on. "He thought it was nothin' but a playing field, or a piece of real estate, or whatever th' hell rich kids think when they see som'n they want. He didn't care about the diamond, he jus' wanted his guys to look good while practicin'. Now Nathan had a pretty good swingin' hand, I'll give'm that, but he didn' know nothin' about baseball. Not like we did. If he knew baseball, if he played baseball like we did, he'd'a been fine on his own fuckin' turf. "When he looked at me an' told me with those cocky-ass eyes'a his that he asked his school to do some volunteer shit for the park an' 'fix' our place up? Because he could? Fuck it — I lost my shit. I mean, I lost my shit. Now... I don't remember too much'a what happened, blind rage an' all; you know how it is, rigght Soldier? I mean, I remember jumpin'im, takin' the bat to his head at some point an' watchin'im crumble like a frickin' girl, an' I remember gettin' all up on'im an' sluggin'im in the chops, but most everythin' else was a blur. I mean, I was too fuckin' pissed to think about what I was doin'." Scout paused. "... I may've clocked'im in the temple a couple times." Medic said nothing, but his mind whirred, guiltily interested in Scout's tale. If the young man had indeed dealt this other youth several blows to the temple, and with enough force (that Medic knew Scout was perfectly capable of dealing), then Nathan White's fate was no mystery to the good Doctor. "But yeah, so, I'm beatin' his shit in, then next thing I hear the othe' three shoutin' an' runnin' at me, but I'm, like, so frickin' high on adrenaline I'm not even scared. I ain't about to stick around, hell no, but I ain't scared'a those three chuckleheads. I book it like the ground's on fire an' the rain's all in my face an' I'm soaked an' I hear 'em comin' at me like the fuckin' heat but it don't last too long 'cuz they're bank account's down bleedin' in the dirt. Not like they could'a caught me anyway. "I take off across the street, down the crosswalks, left, right, 'round the block, every turn I find – I don' even know where I'm goin' at this point, I'm jus' runnin' through the city. I prob'ly got blood all over me but I don't even care who sees it. I know Boston; I ain't gettin' lost. I jus' gotta run off the rush an' make sure the Liberty fags can't find me. I'm soaked an' I feel like a fuckin' hero. "An' then I passed by this little joint a couple blocks from the Commons that I pass on my mornin' runnin' route called Souper Salad. I'd usually take five, sit in, talk a bit with Bruce, chill a while before headin' the home lap. Sometimes he'd even slip me a sodie-pop on the house if the goin' was good. Great guy, Bruce. He may'a been old as balls, but he really knew how to help a guy, y'know? "So I step inside an' the place is dead. I knock on the counter, Bruce shouts from the back, but I shout back an' he laughs 'cuz he knows it's me. He comes shufflin' out with a wood bowl an' a rag, an' then he sees the blood on me. "He's like, 'Jesus Christ, boy, what happ'nna you? You been through hell'n back, by looks.' I jus' kin'a laugh an' grab a counter seat, tell'im the blood ain't mine this time. He goes, 'Ho boy, you best not'a been scrappin' with your brothers now,' an' I say naw, no scrappin', but I did give this rich fag a face-lift. "He shakes his head, but he's kinda half-smilin' too so he can't really be angry. He's like, 'Good God, boy, how many stale checks are you gonna let those fists o'yours write?' Whatever the hell that's s'posed to mean. I tell'im to get off my case; he don't know what happened. "He puts away the bowl and pulls out this old, brown pipe he's had since back when he served in the first World War. He still called it the Great War, too; the hell's up with that, right? "So anyway, he gets all scowly an' junk an' says, 'Shucks, boy, I never know what happened! That don't mean you can prance 'round all over Boston pickin' fights with the first person to look'acha funny.' "I'm like, 'Bruce, you know there was more to it than that. C'mon.' "He lights up his pipe an' goes, 'I know, boy, I know. I'm not tryin'a fix you or nothin', I'm just sayin' it so you know. Tryin'a talk the fight outta you would be like tryin'a talk the song outta Elvis. It's in your goddamned blood.' An' I kinda laugh at that 'cuz, I mean, he just compared me to Elvis. "Then he finally asks what happened, an' I tell him everythin'. An' then, Jesus, then he asks me the real question, 'So where's y'r bat now?' "Holy shit, did I freak. It was still at th' fuckin' diamond! I'd high-tailed it outta there so fast I'd forgotten to grab it. I was gonna go back, too, but Bruce caught me. "He says, 'Whoa, boy, I wouldn't if I was you. If these Liberty boys've found your bat already they'll be waitin' for you. Best let sleepin' dogs lie.' "I ain't about to leave my fuckin' bat with th' Liberty chumps, but Bruce kinda had a point. I'd be jumped if I went back, or Nathan's cop dad could be there waitin' for me. An' y'know, that wouldn't be so bad if he was, I jus' didn't want the cuffs on me 'til I got to tell my brotha's about the shit I jus' pulled. "Bruce's puffin' his pipe, shakin' his head. 'Stale checks, son. Slate checks,' he says, an' I finally ask'im what the hell he's talkin' about. "He goes, 'It means you've done a lo-o-otta shit since I met you, boy, an' you ain't got a lot done back to you. One'a these days, son, karma's gonna catch up t'yer slimy ass an' beat it black an' blue.' "Okay, A), Ew. Like, eight different kinds'a nasty quee' right there. An' second, fuckin', Bruce keeps bringin' his stupid karma shit back into this. I keep tellin'im, I ain't gotten nothin' 'cuz I'm un-freakin'-touchable. Someone out there still likes me. But, he just shakes his head at me. 'Bad karma,' he keeps sayin'. I swear, the guy's paranoid, or some shit. "I remember kinda glancin' up at the clock but it said it was, like, 3:45 or som'n. He never changes his clocks for Daylight Savings. Weirdo. "But anywho, so then he leans in real close an' says, 'Listen to me, son, you're a good kid. I know you're a good kid. You're smart. All I'm sayin' is, be careful. Good luck comes naturally to some people an' you might be one of those people. An' if you are, then that's wonderful. But. If you use this good luck as a crutch and start expecting it to come, it won't. Lady Luck's just like every other woman in the world; she'll go to bed with you plenty, but never when you ask her to.' "I tell 'im its too late for that, even if I was gonna rethink it all. Then he says 'Right, you can't change what's happened, but the ordeal's just begun. You messed some kid up bad, now what if you messed him up too bad to fix?' "I know what he means, an' I said if he's dead, then good. Fucker deserved it. Then Bruce shakes his head an' says, 'No, son. I mean, what if he's dead?' "An' that's when I figure out what he's try'na say. If Nathan's dead, that makes me a murderer. An', like, I just murdered the Police Chief's son. "Now, I should prob'ly be worried. For some reason, though, the whole irony of it makes me laugh. Like, it's funny, but in a sick kinda way. Like, y'know how they say, if someone knows they're about t'die, they get this real morbid kinda happy-go-lucky thing goin' in their minds? It may'a been som'n like that. "Course, Bruce is prob'ly starin' at me like I just went bonkers. If he can even see anythin' through all the smoke around his head. Bruce always did smoke too much, I thought. I couldn't even barely breathe when he pulled that damn pipe out. But hey, who'm I t'stop him? "Anywho, I chill out an' Bruce tells me I'm prob'y goin' t'prison, even if I didn't kill Nathan. I wave it off cuz I know that. Hell, I'm ready. Bruce shakes his head again. I guess he thought I didn't understand what shit I was in for. An' who knows, maybe I didn't. I mean, I said I was ready for it, but... I dunno. I guess... maybe I hadn't thought things through. Maybe I hadn't really thought about the worst-case scenario or the aftermath as thoroughly as I should've. Maybe. All I know right now is shit went down; I dunno yet if I'm'unna regret it. "I think Bruce knew what I was thinkin' because he kinda patted me on the shoulder an' gave me that weird smile old folks give you when you're shit's hit the fan an' they know it too, but they wancha t'feel better. "Then he says this to me. He says, 'Look, kid, I wouldn't think on it too much if I was you. You'll just feel worse about it. Like, see, this whole shit-storm here?' Then he looks outside an' says, 'It's pretty bad, yeah, an' you could've been a little better prepared for it, but hey, it's happening now, an' pretty soon it'll be over. No storm lasts forever, right? An' once it's over, guess what? The streets'll be clean, the roofs'll be shinin', the air's gonna have that cool, fresh feel to it, an' there's gonna be a big, beautiful rainbow in the sky.'" A slight shift occurs in the mercenaries who are listening. They know. Scout pretends he doesn't notice and continues. "Bruce says, 'Everyone goes through a shit-storm'r three in their lives, an' some shit-storms'r worse than others. An' who knows? You might come outta this one alright. You might walk outside an' see that big, beautiful rainbow waitin' for you. But here's what you gotta keep in mind, son. There's no such thing as Fate, or destiny, or any of that gypsy crap. You gotta take control of this if you wanna come out okay, you hear me? Lady Luck can give you every chance in the world, but if all you do is watch those chances fly away, then you won't get no rainbows. But if you can't keep your own nose clean, then at least make sure your family doesn't take the brute force of what you've done. Because this will affect them.' "I didn't say anything... I mean, what am I s'pose t'say? Exactly, so I don't. "Then he suddenly throws in, 'Hey, don't worry about it. If shit hits the fan, you'll clean it up. I know you will.' "We don't say much for a while. It takes me that long to realize storm's been louder'n hell this whole time an' I didn't even remember hearin' it pick up. But whatever. I may've said somethin' about it. Bruce may've said som'n back. I really dunno. "Then it hits me that Ma's prob'ly hearin' this shit-storm too an' worryin' her ass off over me. So I pull up my coat collar an' get ready t'leave even though Bruce says I should prob'ly stay inside 'til the whole thing blows over. I'd like to, but I really don't want Ma worryin' an' makin' her damn ulcers worse, y'know? And, more importantly, I gotta tell the guys what I did! So I wave to Bruce an' leave. "But when I get outside an' throw my coat hood up, somethin' weird happens, an' I kinda feel... like, giddy. Like, I'm not scared're nothin', but just... like, I can feel the chilly air on my back an' on my neck, an' it's rubbin' me in all the wrong places. I shake it off, fuckin' grow a pair, an' head home. The whole way, though, my hands're shakin' an' I can't frickin' stop 'em. I have to frickin' cross my arms under my armpits to keep 'em still, an' that's not even workin'. An' it didn't help that that rain coat was, like, seriously baggin' on me. I was freezin' my ass off, man. An' Souper Salad ain't close t'home, either. "Oh, an' it got worse. Every time someone walked past me on the sidewalk I'd jump a mile high. Every car that drove up or down the road, I couldn't stop myself lookin' up at it. An', God, if it was a Ford, I frickin'—ghah, Jeez... alright, alight, I was a little scared. Maybe. Okay? I ain't proud of it, but I was fuckin' tense as a brick the whole way home. It wasn't until I heard the ambulance sirens off in the distance that I fuckin' lost my shit'n booked it the rest of the way home.
Very good as usual. Everything's coming together nicely. Waiting for more, so get yer ass back in here once Christmas blows over.
Can't wait to see the finale for this. You have a great writing technique, making this whole thing sound like Scout's telling it. And you make things seem really believable. I might just add this to my personal headcanon for Scout. Keep it up!
>>33 That good, huh? Wow, Eximplode, I'm flattered. See, now I'm gonna start thinking I'm better than I really am. Hehe. But seriously, thank you! Always happy to hear I've done well. And sorry it took me so long to reply. Merry Chistmas!
I'm really enjoying this so far. As mentioned before, you do Scout's voice very well in particular and the dialogue in general is quite good, but I also really like things like the boys' logic behind things like their 'ownership' of the diamond. If you still need a beta, feel free to e-mail me and I'll see what I can do to help. In any case, keep up the good work - I can't wait to see more.
>>35 A Beta offer? For me? Damn, Christmas really is here! I've never actually had a Beta before, so... yeah. That in mind, thank you muchly, Amp. I'll GoogleDocs the story to you whenever you're up for it. ... God, why do I sound so kid-ish.
Feel free to send it over any time, m'dear! If you would care to reach me via instant message, I'm hemlocktrinity on AIM or yourlostmuse on Skype.
The voice, the moral, the tension-! Gee-Zus CHROIST, you've got me on the edge of my seat, screaming for more. Brilliant.
This..is...so...awesome....... MOAR
Hello, hello, everyone. Just popping in to give a brief... Er... Not sure if "update" is the right word, but anywho. Good news is that all that "work" I said I had to do before is very meaty done now. Meaning more time to focus on Rainbows. Is good! Bad news is that I've hit the rathat massive brick wall, Writer's Block. I know, pisses me off, too. But! If there's one thing that helps me get past WB, more than anything, it's fanart. Now don't misread me, I don't grovel for fanart, especially when this is my pilot story for the Chan. I'm merely throwing it out there that, if anyone happens to like this story enough that they want to help it's author out a bit, then that's one way you can do so. Fanart inspires me; what can I say? So, yes. I am working hard to overcome WB, and when I do, I promise to deliver. Here's hoping I can write an ending that does the story justice. Oh, and as a side note: I have relocated to chai's living room aquarium, in case anyone cares to reach me. I never knew German water could feel so exotic to the flesh! Best choice I ever made.
Ok I saw you post the next chapter on fanfiction.net. I'm sure your friends here would like to read it too! :)
>>42 I don't know if they'll be posting it here for a while. The author said on ffnet that they got banned from here for being 17. Eh. That said, if anybody wants to read the next chapter of this, here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6653732/5/Why_The_Rainbows_Make_Me_Cry I'm glad it's still continuing, though. Nothing makes me sadder than unfinished fanfiction. Okay, well, child prostitution, and rape and such make me sadder, but no minor thing makes me sadder than that.
The author has updated this again, on ffnet. Also posted a Hipstr. http:/www.lightninghasnoshadowyoumoron.Hipstr.com Just thought you guys'd like to know.