Chapter Text
The RED team was celebrating. A hard-earned victory over the BLU team had them all ready to drink and gamble for the night. One certain loud-mouthed mercenary was currently pestering another mercenary into making a bet with him.
"C'mon Spy, pleaseee?" The young man begged, giving the other the saddest eyes he could muster up. The older man cringed.
"I never thought I'd live to see the day you'd say please... merde, fine!" Spy said, exasperated. His suit must've stank of alcohol by now. A wobbly, "hell yes", was heard from the Scout as the masked man put something down onto the table. It was a strange item, something nobody but the man who owned it had seen or recognized it.
Engineer seemed mildly curious about it, but it was Scout and Spy's game, and he had one to get back to himself. Scout had put all his life savings on the line– in the form of Tom Jone's merchandise. Spy had to put something in, but they had never clarified that it both had to be of equal value, and Scout didn't seem to care, probably because of how lightweight he was. He was determined to show he could handle his alcohol, and managed to display the exact opposite.
Spy smiled as Scout stumbled around like a fool. The rest of the team gathered around the two mercenaries, and the gambling commenced.
"Ohh, in your stupid face! I win!" Scout jeered and laughed at the older man, his face was unbearably cocky in a way Spy could not describe. However inebriated he was, Scout managed to find a way to get on his nerves even more.
The team quietly-
"HA! I KNEW IT! America ALWAYS wins!" Soldier shot up from his seat, even though he was seemingly passed out on the table earlier. Spy just bit on his cigarette, looking at the Soldier in disgust. Everybody in here was insane. The only reason why he didn't win on purpose was because he honestly didn't want the item he betted. And he certainly didn't want the useless merchandise, even though he doubted the runner would actually give it up.
"You know da rules, hand it over, old man!" He held his hand out expectantly, a smile spread over his face. He was beaming with pride, even though it was a simple gambling game. Spy rolled his eyes. He put the item in Scout's outstretched hand with no hesitation.
Scout peered down to look at his prize, and...
"Whadda hell is dis?" The man slurred, confusion filling his eyes, disappointment, maybe.
"It's one of my sappers. You can have it."
"Wha' does it do though?"
"I'm sure you'll find a use for it somehow." And with that, the masked man disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Scout sputtered, before trying to find the man hopelessly. The other mercenaries were mildly amused at him flailing his limbs around in the air.
"That freakin' bastard, when I get 'im I'll fuckin' mess him up so bad he--" A gloved hand found itself on Scout's shoulder, before starting to guide him to the door.
"Maybe you should get some rest, son." The Texan led the irritated man back to his assigned room. He was still pouting when he made it there, but his anger had subsided.
He peered down at the sapper once more. This thing looked weird, man. It resembled nothing like the sappers he was familiar with. While it was flat and squarish, it had strange handles on opposite sides that did seem to move. Scout noticed that the center of the sapper seemed to have a closed-off part, like a closed eye. He tossed it on the floor in disinterest as he slumped into his bed.