#supplyrunner!scout

[SUPPLY RUNNER]: -and that's how I figured out how the knife game actually work- eh, what's that sunny? Oh- my brain's meltin' again. Haha! [SUNSET]: ... [SUPPLY RUNNER]: Aw shucks. Thanks, buddy.

Got... tf2 OCs now... the brainrot is real... anyways. Time to be cringe and free! Also @medicmaining drew that spy.

Daniel "Dan" Fitzgerald [Scout]:

NOT THERE FOR BATTLE, job is only to distribute medkits and ammo packs around the map during matches. He is supposed to not be noticed.

Feral

Had adoptive parents. Biological parents are alive.

Wears whatever team's clothes happen to be there in order to blend in, because he can't go invisible like a certain someone.

"Sunset" [Sniper]:

Cannot maintain eye-contact, selective mute.

Usually nests in places with lots of light so people cannot stare/look at him properly.

Kicked out of the house and is just here for money.

'It's late. I should be trying to sleep.'

Guiding himself with a hand on the wall, the clone stumbles towards the stairs in the darkness of night. At this point, most of the mercs were asleep. No one was on the other end of the line for him to talk to, so there was no point turning his headset back on.

Which sucked, but not because his torso had ruptured by itself and his own guts were trying to spill out from the open, gaping wound. That was normal. His skin was just extra fragile during this life and gave out a little earlier than his organs.

No, it sucked because it was boring to not be talking and he'd probably be stuck in the respawn machine 'till daytime when they opened the doors back up.

With one hand pressing down on the growing patch of blood seeping out his shirt, which was miraculously preventing a mess of blood and guts on the floor, the other gripped onto the railing to hoist himself up. Step by excruciating step, he made his way to the roof.

The pain was nice. It kept him warm. Kept him both lucid and fuzzy. Laughter bubbled his his throat as another sharp sting shot through his body, nearly making him keel over.

It took several minutes to finally get up to the rooftop. The cool air surrounded him as he stepped out, walking towards the edge of the building... and sitting down near it with his legs splayed out. He finally releases his stomach, letting his organs pour out from under his shirt onto the roof. Groaning in agony, the dying clone gives the pain a moment to settle before moving once more, grabbing the sling of the duffel bag off his shoulder and pulling the bag itself closer.

Unzipping it, he takes out a can of regular ol' soda and cracks it open. Taking a sip, he looks up into the sky. There was nothing he can do about his current state than to wait for his body to properly give out, so why not enjoy it?

"...Mn... I want BONK..." Dan complains quietly, drinking some more of the soda anyway. On a regular day, he'd be trying to eat his own insides by now. Strangely, he wasn't feeling it today.

He wishes someone- anyone- was here though. It's kind of boring on his own.

Decided to shuffle Dan into a free collab thing by @avian-malpractice! I just missed doing stuff like this, so...

Don't mind the runner, he's thinking about a bucket o' seagull. I swear he's harmless.

(I mean this with a great deal of love)

Not in tip top shape so excuse tha energy. Also in tha office so tryna keep m' voice down so it ain't botherin' doc.

It's naw intrusive. Do find it real interestin' tha everybody keeps askin' me somethin' like that though- cause I ain't seein' what ya sayin'.

I know murdery, an' my doc looks anythin' but that. He's literally just a lil' guy wit' glasses. How can ya be intimidatin' wit' glasses?