Novel & Cerita Team Fortress 2 The Scout

Urgent. A scout came sprinting down the avenue. He was a wiry Null. He scrambled up the rubble pile. His chest was heaving. His breathing was a jagged, wheezing sound. "Report," I commanded. I flipped to the tactical map. My heart hammered against my ribs—violent, erratic, too fast. "Dust," the scout gasped. He pointed North. His hand was shaking. "Lots of it. Ten clicks out. Moving fast." "Formation?" Barzil asked.

"Oh, see. I knew you'd get it! It really is an honor to be out here." Pulte turned to the other side and completely ignored him afterwards. "Everyone shut up. We're here." The captain quickly had everyone ready and geared up. They arrive at the area they are meant to scout on. "We'll split into three groups of five and scout the area. Check your gears and get ready in three minutes." The scout unit got off their carrier and started their mission. It was Pulte's second mission outside the fortress city after coming back to the force. "Don't let your guard down newbies, we're in a C level area. This place is new to us so we don't know yet what type of monsters and how strong they are."

The scout didn't notice until it was too late. He bolted. Bad choice. Marcus was faster. He tackled him from behind. They hit the ground hard, rolling through dead leaves. The scout shifted mid-roll—claws extending, teeth bared. Marcus was ready. The Moonbane net flew from his hand, wrapping the scout in silver webbing. The corrupted magic reacted violently. Smoke rose where Moonbane touched flesh. The scout screamed. He crashed to the ground, tangled and helpless, shifting back to human. Young male, maybe twenty-five. Cult tattoos crawled up his arms like black veins. His face was pale with fear and pain.

I shouted, tackling Elena as a dart whistled through the air where she'd been standing. Jax growled, shifting partially into his wolf form. "Where are they?" I drew my blades, eyes tracking the slight movement in the underbrush. "Three o'clock, two hostiles. More at our six." Tomas sniffed the air furiously. "I can't smell anything!" "Trust your eyes, not your nose," I directed, falling easily into combat mode. "Move in pairs, watch for traps underfoot." I barely finished speaking before the forest exploded in chaos. Syndicate scouts in black tactical gear swarmed from hidden places. These weren't killers like me—these were information gatherers, armed for defense rather than killing.

What right did Tristan have to go to Esther's house now? At that moment, his friend, Matthew Hudson, came up with an idea. "Tristan, I just remembered. The Straburgh investment conference is next month. You can attend, representing your company. Since Russell Group is a major player there, they'll definitely be attending. "Esther is a loyal person. You two have been together for eight years, and they've only known each other for a few months. How can he be compared to you?"

At the sound, Scout perked up, letting out a low bark, his small frame tensing as if ready to bolt back to his owner. A blinding flash flooded the room, and I winced, shrinking against the wall as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. When I dared to look, I felt my breath catch at the sight of him. He was shirtless, his broad chest lined with a map of scars and dark, twisting tattoos, his jeans riding low on his hips. Shadows played in the hollows of his muscles, his skin taut and tan in the harsh light. His hair was disheveled, falling into his face as though he’d either just left his bed or spent a night dragging his fingers through it. And damn it all—he was stunning.

A scout running fast. Theron sees it too. “You expecting news?” I shake my head slowly. “No.” The scout sprints across the yard, chest heaving, dirt streaking his face. When he reaches me, he can barely speak. “Alpha… outside the ridge…” he pants, pointing behind him. “You need to see this.” Theron and I follow the scout out of the war room, our boots hitting the ground fast. The training yard goes quiet as we pass, every warrior can sense something’s wrong. When we reach the outer watchtower, the scout finally catches his breath. His face is pale, eyes wide.

"Look at the mark on her neck one more time, and I will gouge your fucking eyes out right on this floor." Torin snapped his gaze down to the floorboards instantly, his shoulders shaking as he dropped to one knee in immediate submission. "Alpha, apologies. The scouts... they just returned from the Neutral Zone border sports. Tristan’s vanguard is running drills along the treeline. They’re mocking our patrol speed."

I curse as I read the message he sent. ‘Been found and shut down. Making my way to you. Be ready to move out when I get there in 5 days.’ Damn, I was hoping that he didn’t tell them to move. I look up at Raphael. “Who do we have that is a good warrior scout and a fast runner?” “Um…” “Tucker.” I am surprised when Zaire is the one to answer and snap my attention to him. “Okay, where is he?” “Right behind you Alpha.”

No insignia. No distinguishing characteristics Cowards. Like the traitors they were, they were hiding behind masks. I said, "Find the patrols that are still alive." As they wait for more instructions, have them reassemble in the inner watchtower. You did a good job. Proceed now. Seek medical attention for the wound. With a sigh of relief in his voice, the scout stumbled out of the room after bowing deeply. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until the scout exited the room. Then I turned to my brothers, purposefully.