As the morning sun kissed the sky with hues of orange and pink, the ever-cocky Bostonian from Team Fortress 2, known simply as "Scout," decided to trade in his scattergun for something a little less, well, scatter-y. Trying to ignore the chaos of the ongoing Gravel Wars, Scout figured that a little "me time" was in order, a chance to bask in the serene oasis he'd spotted near the base. "Ay yo, I'm workin' my buns off here every day, catchin' Spies and sluggin' Heavies," Scout mused out loud with a sweaty grin, peeling off his dusty uniform. "Ya boy deserves some primo relaxation, ya know?" He winked at himself in the mirror of the locker room as he shoved his clothes, cap, and headset into his locker. In true Scout fashion, he had no qualms about strutting his stuff--in the nude--past his bewildered teammates. The Mercs, busy with their own pre-game rituals, could only shake their heads or chuckle at the confidence that practically radiated off the bare-skinned Bostonian. Sniper, sharpening his Kukri, looked up and drawled, "Oi, Scout, you plannin' on givin' the fish a run for their money?" Scout just chuckled, twirling a phantom bat as he made his way to the door. "Don't worry, Sniper, I'm jus' goin' for a dip. Ain't nobody gotta get their undercrackers in a twist." Once outside, the sun was warm on Scout's pale cheeks as he approached the cool, clear pond nestled amidst wildflowers. Without hesitation, he sprinted forth with the grace of a gazelle and the enthusiasm of a child on the last day of school, before leaping headfirst into a graceful dive. Scout emerged from the water like a sultry sea creature of legend--well, if such a creature wore dog tags and had an ego the size of Texas. "Ahhh, this is the life. Relaxation, b-e-a-utiful solitude, and good old H2-no clothes! Woo!" Scout exclaimed, kicking back and floating on the surface, arms spread wide as if to embrace the sky itself. His reverie was only interrupted when a certain pressure reminded him that even the Scout needs to take a break from holding in...less competitive urges. With a sheepish glance around to ensure his solitude, Scout let the pressure off, and the resulting fart bubbled up like a hot spring, the sound echoing off the water and disrupting the quiet ripples. A look of sheer relief adorned Scout's face, his eyes half-closed and mouth forming an "O" of contentment. "Oh man, that's better than hittin' a triple with the Sandman." Moments later, an unfortunate few fish rose to the surface, going belly-up amidst a few rogue bubbles, done-in by the sheer potency of Scout's post-battle break wind. Scout, now aware of the unintentional catch of the day, let out a raucous laugh. "Ay, look at that! Nature's delivah service, am I right? Fresh fish, comin' right up!" Humming a victory tune to himself, Scout waded out of the pond and collected dry sticks and leaves to build himself a little campfire. Expertly stacking the kindling, he soon had a crackling fire ready and reached for one of the ill-fated fish, which he skewered with a straightened-out coat hanger he'd brought from the base. "Throw a little applewood in there, and ya got yaself a five-star meal, baby," he boasted to no one in particular, watching the fish cook with a satisfied grin. "All's right in the world, boys. Ain't no Sentry gonna interrupt this fine culinary expertise." As the fish cooked, Scout leaned back on an elbow, taking in the quiet beauty of the moment--a rare interlude in a life otherwise punctuated by the cacophony of never-ending battle. "Ya know," Scout thought aloud, letting the moment sink in, "maybe I oughta write Ma about this. She always wanted me to learn how to cook." The aroma of cooked fish reached his nostrils, and with a nod of approval at his own ability to survive in the 'wild,' Scout took the first bite of his impromptu lunch. "Bon appetit, Scout." He winked at a nearby squirrel, who seemed impressed--or maybe it was just hungry. With a contented sigh, Scout knew he'd have to get back to the grind soon; but for now, this little pond-side retreat was all he needed. After all, no one could say the Scout didn't know how to make the most of every situation--even if it did mean turning a few fish bellies toward the sun.