#scoutson

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Down in the dusty badlands of New Mexico, a Texan with a hard hat and oil-stained overalls offered his help to a rather taken aback Frenchman in a prohibitively expensive suit. It all started when a new man joined the team of mercenaries warring in the gravel pits two exorbitantly rich brothers were feuding over. Really, the new Scout was a kid, in his early twenties physically and even younger mentally. He adapted quickly to the job and his new coworkers. It certainly wasn't his first time he had worked as a trained killer, judging by the practiced ease he handled his weapons. The amount of gloating he did while slaughtering the enemy helped too. He fit right in with the rest of the questionably sane men, sharing that marked disregard for human life. However, the resident Engineer noticed something strange going on between the newcomer and the Spy. Usually, the masked infiltrator was distant and unseen on the battlefield, his only impact being the convenient disappearance of some enemy forces and the strategic destruction of a few buildings. Ever since the Scout joined, he seemed to be much more present and daring, stabbing backs in the frontlines much more frequently. In the Engineer's opinion, Spy had blocked far too many bullets cloaked in front of the young mercenary for it to be coincidental. The implications were so clear to him. Some might have called it an instinct, others may have chalked it up to excellent reasoning skills. Regardless, the assumption had planted itself deep in the Engineer's mind, and at a certain point just became fact.

"Say, son, how does it feel to work with someone you personally know?" The Engineer asked the Scout one day as they were getting ready to enter the battlefield.

"Eh? Whaddya on about, egghead?" The pure confusion from the Bostonian would have marked an embarrassing miscalculation on Engie's part if it weren't for the Spy, standing a couple feet behind the Scout, dropping his precious cigarette. Though he quickly wiped the look off of his face, it was enough. The kid didn't know.

"Ah, never mind. Musta spaced out for a second, mistook ya for someone else. Guess I'm gettin' old, huh?" The Engineer laughed good-naturedly and headed off for the gates, leaving the baffled Scout behind.

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The Engineer was not done with this. Perhaps it was the sudden separation from his own kids, still a fresh wound even after months. In retrospect, he had no business in meddling with the two. Interpersonal relations strayed dangerously far from his area of expertise. In the moment though, he was not about to deny the kid the presence of a father who clearly still cared for him. So, he approached the Spy on that hot, dusty afternoon.

"Spy, I know we've got our differences, but I can't just stand here and watch that sad display you got goin' there between you and your son. If there's anythin' I can do, just say the word."

"What." Was all the normally eloquent Frenchman could muster in response. 

"Well, I'm a father myself, so I suppose I could give ya some pointers-"

"I don't think I need help from a man who was banned from seeing his own children," the Spy snapped back coldly.

"How didja know about that?" Even as the Engineer asked the question, he already knew the answer. Still, it was strange hearing it from someone else when he had put so much effort into separating his personal and work life.

"I am the Spy. It is my job. However, you are the Engineer. Your job is to make little toys to aid us in battle. So tell me, tinkerer, how did you know about me?" 

"Well..." He started, lifting a hand to adjust his helmet. "I noticed y'all been hangin' around a touch more ever since the kid joined..." The Spy raised an eyebrow.

"So you guessed. It was pure luck. Fascinating." The observation was nearly more sarcasm than accent, and Spy had a pretty heavy accent.

"I wouldn't say that," Engie quickly interjected, unwilling to take that blow to his ego. "I’d call it more of a... educated guess. A hypothesis, ya might say.”

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