Tf2 Comics Scout Novels & Stories

“Describe them.” He swallowed. “Not uniformed. Mixed gear. But disciplined. They moved like they’d fought together before.” Not desperate. Not scattered. Mercenaries. Or worse. “Did they speak?” Lyra asked. The scout shook his head. “No. But they left something.” He handed over a strip of cloth. Dark. Stained. Marked with a symbol Lyra didn’t recognize. Tyler’s jaw tightened. “That’s not a warning.” “No,” Lyra said. “It’s an introduction.”

said Scout. “There’s barely anything to choose from here,” the main Delta behind the desk complained with a bored expression. “All I see here are old, malnourished and plain-looking women. None of them is worth the Alpha’s coins.” “I beg to differ,” said Scout quickly. He grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. “This one here has fireworks in her pussy. I’ve tasted her myself!” The Delta raised an eyebrow. “So, we are to give the Alpha your leftovers, is that correct?”

It was one of our scouts, their breathing shallow and ragged. "What happened?" I demanded, kneeling beside them. The scout’s eyes fluttered open, and they gasped, "Rogues… they’re moving… toward the eastern border. They have… something powerful… something unnatural." I exchanged a grim look with Killian. --- As I rose to my feet, the faint glow surrounding the scout began to intensify. "What’s happening?" Eva asked, her voice tinged with alarm. Before I could answer, the scout’s body convulsed, and a burst of energy erupted from them, knocking us all back. When the light faded, the scout was gone—vanished into thin air.

Cora said, then stopped. A warrior watched and asked for permission to speak his mind. "I'm sorry, Luna Cora. I interrupted you. That's very true. After the news spreads, there will be many shops there that will also want to buy our products, Alpha Ethan! Did you forget? There are a few Scouts from this pack who got scholarships to study in London," said the warrior in charge of training and educating the Scouts. "Oh ya, I know. Well, tomorrow I will go there to work on that," Ethan explained again.

“Don’t move.” “I’m not armed,” Tunde said. “I came to talk.” Now all three were alert. “Talk to who?” the tall one with a scar down his cheek asked. “Your commander,” Tunde replied. “Or whoever’s in charge here.” The braided one narrowed her eyes. “No one talks to Brass Fangs unless they’re bleeding or paying.” “I have credits,” Tunde said. “And I can find more adrium.” That made them pause. The scarred one stepped forward. “You’re a scavenger?”

“Maybe your height, Alpha. Lean. Moved like he wasn’t worried about anything. Scent was… Nightfang, but cleaner. Sharper. Like a river in winter. Not the usual rot you smell on rogues.” “Eyes?” Lucian asked. “Dark,” the other scout said. “But they caught the light when he turned. Not like ours. Different.” Gooseflesh prickled along my arms. “What was he doing?” Lucian asked. “Leaning against a tree,” Tomas said, a little incredulous. “Just… there. Oh, and… he had something in his hand. A bit of paper looked like. He kept rolling it between his fingers. Smiling.”

I feel my heart thundering berserkly in my chest at the memory of her face morphing and twisting in fury, the baby blue turned blood-red eyes, and the sinister expression that told me she was ready to killl in a blink of an eye. "Vampire." Hunter blurts. Again, as if he knows exactly what's running in my head every damn minute, in every fucking second. And he's not even looking at me! How on earth does he do that? "Scarlet Tate is the only hybrid werewolf in the Wintermist Pack. She's the Alpha's daughter, so you better not underestimate her or you'll be dead before graduation." He warns. I look up and stare at his devilishly handsome face, his amber eyes cold and serious.

He reached into his coat, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it, blowing a thick stream of gray smoke straight into the man's face. "You're taking pictures of my perimeters," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a flat, deadly rumble. "You're tracking my boys' rotations. Who sent you?" The scout stared straight down at his own bloody boots, keeping his jaw locked tight in absolute silence. Hugo didn't wait to be asked. He grabbed a heavy iron wrench from the table, spun it once in his hand, and brought it down in a short, brutal arc. The solid metal connected with the scout's ribs with a sickening crunch.

Brem straightens as the scout who delivered the full briefing steps into the room, young, road-worn, the journey from the eastern border visible in the dust still on the boots and the tight set of the shoulders that comes from carrying information at speed. The scout meets Lucian's eyes. "He walks again, My Alpha," the scout says.

"Did anyone get close enough for a proper look? Markings, colors, anything identifiable?" The scout hesitates, something uncertain crossing his face. "One of them," he says slowly. "The lead wolf, I think, based on positioning. He was wearing something around his neck. A pendant, or a badge of some kind. I only caught a glimpse before they vanished into the tree line, but—" "But what?" I press, unease already building in my chest. "I sketched what I remembered," the scout says, producing a folded piece of parchment from his jacket, hands slightly unsteady as he passes it across the table.