"Kitchen Duty"

Spy's eyes flicked over the chess board, scrutinizing every piece's position, every possible move, and every possible outcome. Soldier's eyes were likely doing the same thing, but who could say with that helmet covering his face? Eventually, Spy settled on his Rook, which glided to rest on the other side of the field in direct view of Soldier's King.

"Check."

"Hmm," Soldier grunted, a slight grimace tugging at his lips. His thumb and index finger scratched his chin in thought. Then, he took the Rook with his Queen.

Scout, who was sitting backwards in a chair and watching the game over crossed arms, narrowed his eyes and smirked.

"Bad move, man."

Spy summoned his own Queen, hidden amongst the jumble of other pieces, and slid her straight through the fray to take Soldier's Queen out.

"Check mate," Spy stated.

Scout started chuckling, eyes darting back and forth between the offending Queen and Soldier's unreadable face, waiting for a reaction. To his surprise, after a moment of searching, Soldier smirked with a 'Hmph!' and went to shake Spy's hand.

"Well played, crescent-roll."

Scout watched as the two men stood, his mouth hanging open slightly. Spy offered to reset the board for another game, but Soldier was forced to decline, saying that he and Shovel had to practice some new battle strategy together.

After Soldier left the Rec room, Scout raised as eyebrow at Spy. "Since when is Soldier so calm about losing? Or did I jus' miss som'n?"

Spy straightened his collars and adjusted his tie. "Since when are you interested in watching chess matches? Or did I miss somezzing?"

"Hey, you got a better idea, man? This place is dead. I'm bored shitless," He muttered, and let his arms hang loose over the chair's back to reinforce his point.

Spy snorted and got to resetting the board.

A soft pair of footsteps came down the stairs and around the corner. Scout looked up in time to see the familiar gas mask wearing a fuzzy yellow robe, fuzzy yellow slippers, smelling of cheap soap, and holding a thin, rectangular booklet wrapped in plastic.

Scout shot up so quickly that Spy actually jumped back, flinging pieces everywhere.

"Dude! Dude, Pyro!" Scout ran to Pyro and grabbed the booklet. "Is'at the new Superman comic? Oh, Hell yes!"

Pyro shouted at the sudden assault and swatted Scout away, though God knew Pyro was just as excited. He expressed as much by hopping up and down with the comic clutched tight in his unclothed fingers and shouting incoherently.

Spy managed to regain his composure in time to see both men shouting and hopping up and down in sheer joy. Spy could only find the mind to scoff at them and gather up the pieces he'd dropped.

The two rushed off to the couch and jumped on with a force that made the old furniture piece audibly rebound. They didn't care, and scuttled close together to carefully remove the plastic protective cover. The sudden switch to calm delicacy was almost comical; they handled the comic book with a gentleness and reverence that, in Spy's opinion, ought to be reserved for a woman's skin and nothing else.

Nonetheless, Spy did his best to ignore them and finally finished setting the board up. At last he could get away from the cinematic, childish narrative Scout and Pyro had begun reading aloud.

As Spy disappeared up the stairs, Sniper appeared in his place.

"Everythin' alroight down 'ere? Thought I 'eard someone fall."

Scout didn't hear him, but Pyro looked up and flashed a quick thumps-up before turning right back to the book.

Sniper raised an eyebrow and tilted his hat up with his thumb. Curious, he sauntered over behind the couch to see what had caught their attention so pointedly. Soon both brows were high on his forehead.

"Is'at Superman?"

"Hell yeah it is!" Scout was grinning like a dope. "Hot off the presses!"

Sniper nodded, politely returning the smile. "Alroight, cool. I'll leave you to it, then."

As he made to depart, Scout suddenly called back to him.

"Oh, Snipes! Engie told me t'remind you that, ah..." His face knotted up in thought and he snapped his fingers. "Ah... Shit, what'd he tell me—? Oh! Yeah, KP. You got KP tonight, Snipes."

"Ah, piss, I do, don't I?" He had a sour smile on his lips as he checked his watch. "Ooh, I may not be able to— well... no, yeah, yeah, I could make it. Cut'n it close, though..."

Sniper turned on a heel and make for the East garage.

"'Ey, where th'hell you goin' Snipes! You gotta make dinner!"

"I know, and I will. If anyone asks, then I should be back around... oh, five-ish? Maybe four-thirty if it's a good run."

With that, the bushman was gone.

Scout's eyes lingered on where he'd been only moments ago, then just shrugged and got back to Superman.

Time passed and various teammates stopped by the Rec room while Scout remained. Heavy had come by to get a bit of reading done in peace, but after about ten minutes Scout started making fun of how stupid he looked in reading glasses, so Heavy left. Medic and Engineer had passed through, both eccentrically discussing some topic Scout could only assume had something to do with Engie's robo-hand. Spy had apparently convinced Demoman to play him, but Scout didn't feel like watching them play. Pyro had stopped back in around Star-Trek time, wearing baggy jeans and a thick sweater. They'd both curled up at the foot of the old TV like a couple of little kids.

Then five o'clock rolled around, and the show ended.

Scout cut off the screen. "Man, now those fur-ball thingies are gonna give me nightmares."

"Nrrtmrrs? R thrrt thrr wrr cyrrt!"

"Cute! Ew, man! Ain't nothin' cute about those little freaks." Scout shuddered. "Them things screech. Not cool."

Demoman took one of Spy's Knights.

The low rumble of an engine pulled up outside, and Scout groaned. "Finally! It's about goddamned time he got back from the market, I'm starving!"

The rumbling died. There was a long silence before the back door opened and heavy, wet boots slapped across the floor, approaching the Rec room.

Scout thought that the wet slapping was odd as it wasn't storming outside, but whatever, he was hungry. "Yo, Snipes, you better've bought som'n good 'cuz I ain't eatin' no more'a that vegee-mite crap you force–"

Scout's words fell right out of his head when he looked up and saw Sniper strolling right through the Rec room towards the kitchen. The man was soaking wet from head to toe, clothes ragged and torn up here and there, smeared with dirt, and had quite a few deep wounds all along his arms and knees that were glistening with fresh blood.

Of course, Scout only noticed all of this after seeing the massive crocodile corpse slung over his shoulder, toothy jaws hanging open and tail dragging on the floor behind him.

Scout's face was that of total disbelief.

Sniper took a deep, fresh breath, pushed his soggy hat up a bit and checked his watch.

"Supper should be ready in about... oh... what, seven, seven-thirty?"

Smiling, he walked right past Scout into the kitchen.

The Bostonian gaped for five solid seconds before looking desperately over at Pyro, then Spy, then Demo.

"Did-did you-did you see—! Did he just— was that a—!"

Pyro shrugged. Spy leered at Sniper and shook his head with disgust. Demoman just laughed at Scout.

"Ooh, lad, oh yer fehce! I's not th' first tuime he's done this, y'knoow. Have ye never seen him bring home th' behcon?"

"Nu-uh, man! Bacon's all stripped an' greasy an' junk! That shit ain't no bacon!"

Demoman laughed even harder.

"That is the last time I'm ever touchin' Sniper's food! Last time!"

Scout left the Rec room slightly green in the face. Demoman still couldn't quell his hysteria, and it was starting to annoy Spy because Demo hadn't made his move yet. Pyro shrugged again. If Scout wasn't going to have Croco-steak anymore, then that just meant Pyro got more.