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scoutsmaI am so painfully out of practice wrt fanfic lol. I gotta get me a beta too.
“Good Lord! You fight like a woman!”
If Ma had heard that, Red Spy would have had his ass handed to him in an instant. Scout didn’t bother hiding his glee at taking the older man out with his scatter gun, verbally taunting the man’s corpse with one of his go-to insults. There was no reason to hide it in the first place, but it felt even more justified now in Scout’s mind. Red Spy’s taunts on the battlefield did make Scout wonder what his Ma saw in the backstabbing rat. It never made much sense to begin with and Red Spy’s choice of taunts only deepened his confusion.
Did Ma ever hear him say stuff like that? Nah, doubtful. She never accepted that kind of bullcrap from anybody. Scout learned young that you don’t talk about women that way, you know? No matter what the other boys are saying, you tell them to shove it and don’t repeat a word of it. He learned a lot about respect from his Ma, the hardest working person he’d ever known.
Scout’s father hadn’t felt the need to stick around by the time Scout was born, leaving Ma to raise him completely on her lonesome. He watched her work herself to the bone to keep eight boys fed and that’s no easy task, even for two parents. As a kid, Scout felt guilty whenever he watched his mother work day in and day out while always being around when the boys needed her. When he got big enough, he did everything he could around the house to help out. The only place this dedication didn’t expand to was his bedroom. He and his Ma had a silent understanding that it could get to a certain level of messy before she’d get on his case about cleaning.
Once he reached working age, he got a job as a soda jerk to bring in some extra cash. It was how he paid for his baseball equipment so that Ma didn’t have to think twice about it. It also meant there were days that Ma could actually relax for a change especially with his older brothers starting to leave the nest. For as long as Scout could remember, Ma had always had at least two jobs along with selling baked goods to neighbors. Scout had plenty of fond memories of helping out in the kitchen whenever she had an order to fill out, usually from one of the upper-class families who like throwing party after party. They were always the incredibly boring kind though where they sat around talking about boring adult stuff. There wasn't even dancing or cards.
The hours spent baking were some of Scout’s favorites memories. He wasn’t a passive observer whenever she baked; She would hand him things to stir and teach him tricks she’d picked up over the years. It was always his job to lick the bowl which was the most prestigious job he felt he could have at the tender age of seven. None of his other brothers got to, although it probably helped that none of them were interested in helping. Even though he was a 20 year old man, he found himself longing for the warmth of that kitchen and the smell of cake or cookies baking while they talked. They talked about everything and anything on those nights.
It was during one of those kitchen talks that his Ma admitted to him -and only him- that she regretted never going to college. She didn’t regret having her sons she made sure to add that. It was that she couldn’t have the best of both worlds. She’d told him about all the dreams that had been running through her head over the years. Dreams that never came to fruition. That’s why, as soon as all this war was over, Scout was heading off to college. He had no idea what he would study, but this was for Ma. This was so she could see one of her boys head off to school and come home with a diploma in hand. Maybe now with all this money, his Ma would go get a degree too. Older people can do that, right? He knew his Ma could without even asking her. His Ma could do anything.
All this thinking about college brought him back to his dad. One of his brothers had said he remembered their dad telling Ma that college was a waste of time. It sounded like he made fun of her for even thinking it was worth anybody’s time. Who makes fun of somebody’s dream like that? The older Scout got, the more he realized how much of an ass his dad sounded like. He’d already thought he was scum for leaving them, but Scout always felt like that was the best thing that ever happened to them. Even though it left the world on Ma’s shoulders, there was a different kind of relief for her. She was better off without him, Scout was sure.
Scout’s older brothers complained about him not being there, Scout being the only one who didn’t. Every time they did, the look of guilt on Ma’s face cut Scout down to the bone. The feeling of being rejected stung, Scout would be lying if he said it didn’t, but overall he was pleased as punch the old guy was gone. If he could just up and leave like that, how great could he really be? Doesn’t sound like a guy who has a lot to offer anybody.
Scout’s mind was still miles away as bullets and rockets continued to fly by him. Some days fighting the Reds was the most mindless thing he could do, running around on autopilot. His thoughts turned back to Red Spy, the man who was seeing his mother. All he could do was ask himself, why? Why Red Spy? Did he act differently at home? That dirty Red had to know his mother would never tolerate the shit he says to everyone here on a regular basis. He had to keep his mouth shut around her.
That only got Scout’s blood boiling as he gave a rather vicious whack to the head of a Red Medic. He didn’t want his Ma to hear talk like that, but he didn’t want some snake in the grass pretending he never said that shit either! It was lying to get on her good side and all it means is he knows exactly what he’s saying. He knows how much it would hurt Ma and he says it anyway. The more he thought on it the more of a scuzzbucket the Red Spy became.
Supposedly Red Spy had genuine feelings for her, which Scout was willing to believe. In his head, however, that meant he shouldn’t be saying all this stupid shit. He bet he didn’t even realize who it was he was with. He didn’t see her toiling away throughout Scout's childhood. He didn’t know this woman who he easily insulted in the name of war. Ma had always told Scout that an insult didn’t need a name attached to it to be direct. You say something like that about women, you say it about all women. There was no way to make it impersonal. There was a chance Red Spy assumed she’d never be able to see through his lies and Scout knew that was a mistake. Snakes like him had a way of showing their true colors and Ma was a smart woman, smarter than he bet Red Spy gave her credit for.
People made a habit out of underestimating Ma, he noticed that from pretty early on. He remembered guys talking down to her all the time while guys didn’t get that treatment. Ma could talk circles around most of the men she had to interact with and they still talked to her like she was fourteen. She had to work harder than any guy he’d ever met because of that. They didn’t just underestimate her mental or emotional strength either. Everyone assumed this tiny woman from Boston could never hold her own in a fight. She was just sweet Theresa McGowan from down the street who liked baking cookies. Scout knew better though. He knew that if she’d been in this war, she’d probably never have to respawn even once. She would be the Queen Bee without even having to raise her voice to be heard. Scout remembered his aunt talking about how his Ma talked softly, but carried a big stick. It wasn’t until a few years later that he completely understood what she meant by that. Once he figured it out, he couldn’t have agreed more though.
He knew they wouldn’t even have to do much training with her. She’d been the one to teach Scout how to shoot when he was younger. From what his brothers told him, their dad had tried teaching them how, which is why none of them could hit the broad side of a barn. Scout learned how to shoot from Ma and that was where he got his incredibly skills. He was willing to share the credit for his talents seeing as he had to get it from somewhere. She was patience with him and never tolerated any tomfoolery when they were on the shooting range. Ma had learned from her old man how to shoot and he taught her everything he knew about guns. When she was a young girl, she used to go hunting with him whenever they could. She said it was her and her father’s version of the kitchen talks. She used to tell Scout stories about those days, like her first time bringing home a deer. Before his grandfather died, Scout could remember him calling Ma his Little Annie Oakley and boy was it appropriate. He wasn't surprised at all. She was his Ma after all. He bet she could even teach Heavy or Snipes a thing or two.
Did Red Spy know all that about her? Did she tell him or did he even care? He found himself wanting to ask only for that to be overcome by a desire to bash his skull in. One of these days he’d think to ask before sending him to the respawn room.
“Victory.”
It was that one word that brought Scout out of his thoughts. There was a chance he would get chewed out for being less focused than usual, but that rarely happened even on autopilot days. He could only assume everyone had a day or two like that since a job like this got a little monotonous day after day. While you wanted to avoid respawn, it took away a fear of death that would have kept him from ever slipping off into his thoughts on the field. When death is temporary, it's something of a joke.
He headed back to base with the others, not joining in their celebratory remarks or gestures for a change. Scout wasn’t too surprised no one really noticed him taking up the rear, walking slower than he was normally used to. Typically the lack of attention would piss him off; it was only for today that he was happy to be ignored. The walls they passed by were still caked with blood and riddled with bullet holes, but no one paid much attention to them. Like his teammates, Scout had become immune to the sight of blood and guts . As sick as it sounded, you had to be. It would eat away at you otherwise. In letters to his brothers, he bragged about his ability to shoot guys down without batting an eye. He could stomach it without even flinching! Gone are the days of the little brother who could barely stomach a horror movie at the theater, hiding in his seat when the monster showed up. They had to be impressed because he always conveniently left out the fact you had to in order to keep your head about you. While death wasn't a problem, you were still blowing up or killing another human being. And Scout had to admit there were times he worried that there'd be a day when the respawning stopped.
Ma understood the need to desensitize yourself. While his letters to his brothers were filled with daring stunts he pulled and how tough he’d become, his letters to his mother had a different tone. He did brag to her about his acts of bravery and skill, of course, but he also told her about how he was scared that the sight of blood didn’t upset him. She was the one to soothe him and let him know he wasn’t an amoral serial killer now. Despite being an adult, Scout found himself relying on his Ma like he always had. And she was always there to give him a shoulder to lean on without complaint. He couldn’t have asked for better than Ma.
“Oi, gremlin!”
Jarred out of his thoughts once again, Scout’s eyes focused on the lanky Australian that stood by the base’s entrance. Scout had become more accepting of the nickname Gremlin when it wasn’t being spat out from the Red team’s Sniper, mostly because Red Sniper usually backed it up with a bullet.
“Get in here, ya whacka.”
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Scout shouted. “Keep your pants on, wombat!”
With a smirk, the Sniper waited for Scout to make his way on inside. There were no questions about what he was thinking or why he was so slow today. Scout figured if anyone would notice, it’d be Sniper that did. Scout was grateful for Sniper’s restraint. One thing he always liked about Snipes is he knew when to question and when to keep his mouth shut. Eventually, he’d talk to the older man about the thoughts swirling around in his head, but today was not that day.
Today, his energy was going to writing a long letter to his Ma.
“Good Lord! You fight like a woman!”
If Ma had heard that, Red Spy would have had his ass handed to him in an instant. Scout didn’t bother hiding his glee at taking the older man out with his scatter gun, verbally taunting the man’s corpse with one of his go-to insults. There was no reason to hide it in the first place, but it felt even more justified now in Scout’s mind. Red Spy’s taunts on the battlefield did make Scout wonder what his Ma saw in the backstabbing rat. It never made much sense to begin with and Red Spy’s choice of taunts only deepened his confusion.
Did Ma ever hear him say stuff like that? Nah, doubtful. She never accepted that kind of bullcrap from anybody. Scout learned young that you don’t talk about women that way, you know? No matter what the other boys are saying, you tell them to shove it and don’t repeat a word of it. He learned a lot about respect from his Ma, the hardest working person he’d ever known.
Scout’s father hadn’t felt the need to stick around by the time Scout was born, leaving Ma to raise him completely on her lonesome. He watched her work herself to the bone to keep eight boys fed and that’s no easy task, even for two parents. As a kid, Scout felt guilty whenever he watched his mother work day in and day out while always being around when the boys needed her. When he got big enough, he did everything he could around the house to help out. The only place this dedication didn’t expand to was his bedroom. He and his Ma had a silent understanding that it could get to a certain level of messy before she’d get on his case about cleaning.
Once he reached working age, he got a job as a soda jerk to bring in some extra cash. It was how he paid for his baseball equipment so that Ma didn’t have to think twice about it. It also meant there were days that Ma could actually relax for a change especially with his older brothers starting to leave the nest. For as long as Scout could remember, Ma had always had at least two jobs along with selling baked goods to neighbors. Scout had plenty of fond memories of helping out in the kitchen whenever she had an order to fill out, usually from one of the upper-class families who like throwing party after party. They were always the incredibly boring kind though where they sat around talking about boring adult stuff. There wasn't even dancing or cards.
The hours spent baking were some of Scout’s favorites memories. He wasn’t a passive observer whenever she baked; She would hand him things to stir and teach him tricks she’d picked up over the years. It was always his job to lick the bowl which was the most prestigious job he felt he could have at the tender age of seven. None of his other brothers got to, although it probably helped that none of them were interested in helping. Even though he was a 20 year old man, he found himself longing for the warmth of that kitchen and the smell of cake or cookies baking while they talked. They talked about everything and anything on those nights.
It was during one of those kitchen talks that his Ma admitted to him -and only him- that she regretted never going to college. She didn’t regret having her sons she made sure to add that. It was that she couldn’t have the best of both worlds. She’d told him about all the dreams that had been running through her head over the years. Dreams that never came to fruition. That’s why, as soon as all this war was over, Scout was heading off to college. He had no idea what he would study, but this was for Ma. This was so she could see one of her boys head off to school and come home with a diploma in hand. Maybe now with all this money, his Ma would go get a degree too. Older people can do that, right? He knew his Ma could without even asking her. His Ma could do anything.
All this thinking about college brought him back to his dad. One of his brothers had said he remembered their dad telling Ma that college was a waste of time. It sounded like he made fun of her for even thinking it was worth anybody’s time. Who makes fun of somebody’s dream like that? The older Scout got, the more he realized how much of an ass his dad sounded like. He’d already thought he was scum for leaving them, but Scout always felt like that was the best thing that ever happened to them. Even though it left the world on Ma’s shoulders, there was a different kind of relief for her. She was better off without him, Scout was sure.
Scout’s older brothers complained about him not being there, Scout being the only one who didn’t. Every time they did, the look of guilt on Ma’s face cut Scout down to the bone. The feeling of being rejected stung, Scout would be lying if he said it didn’t, but overall he was pleased as punch the old guy was gone. If he could just up and leave like that, how great could he really be? Doesn’t sound like a guy who has a lot to offer anybody.
Scout’s mind was still miles away as bullets and rockets continued to fly by him. Some days fighting the Reds was the most mindless thing he could do, running around on autopilot. His thoughts turned back to Red Spy, the man who was seeing his mother. All he could do was ask himself, why? Why Red Spy? Did he act differently at home? That dirty Red had to know his mother would never tolerate the shit he says to everyone here on a regular basis. He had to keep his mouth shut around her.
That only got Scout’s blood boiling as he gave a rather vicious whack to the head of a Red Medic. He didn’t want his Ma to hear talk like that, but he didn’t want some snake in the grass pretending he never said that shit either! It was lying to get on her good side and all it means is he knows exactly what he’s saying. He knows how much it would hurt Ma and he says it anyway. The more he thought on it the more of a scuzzbucket the Red Spy became.
Supposedly Red Spy had genuine feelings for her, which Scout was willing to believe. In his head, however, that meant he shouldn’t be saying all this stupid shit. He bet he didn’t even realize who it was he was with. He didn’t see her toiling away throughout Scout's childhood. He didn’t know this woman who he easily insulted in the name of war. Ma had always told Scout that an insult didn’t need a name attached to it to be direct. You say something like that about women, you say it about all women. There was no way to make it impersonal. There was a chance Red Spy assumed she’d never be able to see through his lies and Scout knew that was a mistake. Snakes like him had a way of showing their true colors and Ma was a smart woman, smarter than he bet Red Spy gave her credit for.
People made a habit out of underestimating Ma, he noticed that from pretty early on. He remembered guys talking down to her all the time while guys didn’t get that treatment. Ma could talk circles around most of the men she had to interact with and they still talked to her like she was fourteen. She had to work harder than any guy he’d ever met because of that. They didn’t just underestimate her mental or emotional strength either. Everyone assumed this tiny woman from Boston could never hold her own in a fight. She was just sweet Theresa McGowan from down the street who liked baking cookies. Scout knew better though. He knew that if she’d been in this war, she’d probably never have to respawn even once. She would be the Queen Bee without even having to raise her voice to be heard. Scout remembered his aunt talking about how his Ma talked softly, but carried a big stick. It wasn’t until a few years later that he completely understood what she meant by that. Once he figured it out, he couldn’t have agreed more though.
He knew they wouldn’t even have to do much training with her. She’d been the one to teach Scout how to shoot when he was younger. From what his brothers told him, their dad had tried teaching them how, which is why none of them could hit the broad side of a barn. Scout learned how to shoot from Ma and that was where he got his incredibly skills. He was willing to share the credit for his talents seeing as he had to get it from somewhere. She was patience with him and never tolerated any tomfoolery when they were on the shooting range. Ma had learned from her old man how to shoot and he taught her everything he knew about guns. When she was a young girl, she used to go hunting with him whenever they could. She said it was her and her father’s version of the kitchen talks. She used to tell Scout stories about those days, like her first time bringing home a deer. Before his grandfather died, Scout could remember him calling Ma his Little Annie Oakley and boy was it appropriate. He wasn't surprised at all. She was his Ma after all. He bet she could even teach Heavy or Snipes a thing or two.
Did Red Spy know all that about her? Did she tell him or did he even care? He found himself wanting to ask only for that to be overcome by a desire to bash his skull in. One of these days he’d think to ask before sending him to the respawn room.
“Victory.”
It was that one word that brought Scout out of his thoughts. There was a chance he would get chewed out for being less focused than usual, but that rarely happened even on autopilot days. He could only assume everyone had a day or two like that since a job like this got a little monotonous day after day. While you wanted to avoid respawn, it took away a fear of death that would have kept him from ever slipping off into his thoughts on the field. When death is temporary, it's something of a joke.
He headed back to base with the others, not joining in their celebratory remarks or gestures for a change. Scout wasn’t too surprised no one really noticed him taking up the rear, walking slower than he was normally used to. Typically the lack of attention would piss him off; it was only for today that he was happy to be ignored. The walls they passed by were still caked with blood and riddled with bullet holes, but no one paid much attention to them. Like his teammates, Scout had become immune to the sight of blood and guts . As sick as it sounded, you had to be. It would eat away at you otherwise. In letters to his brothers, he bragged about his ability to shoot guys down without batting an eye. He could stomach it without even flinching! Gone are the days of the little brother who could barely stomach a horror movie at the theater, hiding in his seat when the monster showed up. They had to be impressed because he always conveniently left out the fact you had to in order to keep your head about you. While death wasn't a problem, you were still blowing up or killing another human being. And Scout had to admit there were times he worried that there'd be a day when the respawning stopped.
Ma understood the need to desensitize yourself. While his letters to his brothers were filled with daring stunts he pulled and how tough he’d become, his letters to his mother had a different tone. He did brag to her about his acts of bravery and skill, of course, but he also told her about how he was scared that the sight of blood didn’t upset him. She was the one to soothe him and let him know he wasn’t an amoral serial killer now. Despite being an adult, Scout found himself relying on his Ma like he always had. And she was always there to give him a shoulder to lean on without complaint. He couldn’t have asked for better than Ma.
“Oi, gremlin!”
Jarred out of his thoughts once again, Scout’s eyes focused on the lanky Australian that stood by the base’s entrance. Scout had become more accepting of the nickname Gremlin when it wasn’t being spat out from the Red team’s Sniper, mostly because Red Sniper usually backed it up with a bullet.
“Get in here, ya whacka.”
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Scout shouted. “Keep your pants on, wombat!”
With a smirk, the Sniper waited for Scout to make his way on inside. There were no questions about what he was thinking or why he was so slow today. Scout figured if anyone would notice, it’d be Sniper that did. Scout was grateful for Sniper’s restraint. One thing he always liked about Snipes is he knew when to question and when to keep his mouth shut. Eventually, he’d talk to the older man about the thoughts swirling around in his head, but today was not that day.
Today, his energy was going to writing a long letter to his Ma.
