Hey everybody! Rockgod here! What the hell? My one-shots story got updated? I know! Crazy, right? I haven't updated this damn story in months now! Well, that's because I've been unable to think of any stories worth telling here, until just recently, when this idea has been going through my head the past few days and I just HAD to get it out for the entire world to see!

Or at least, .

So yeah. I'm afraid I will not be able to say when I upload the next one-shot to this column, of even if I will ever upload one again. All I can say here is just wait and hope. Once true inspiration comes to me, I'll make sure to write it down and put it up here.

For now, though, enjoy this little piece that I just wrote up.

I'm also experimenting with something I've seen in lots of other fanfictions, but haven't really tried to do with my own: Using song lyrics as a part of storytelling, so I guess you could call this a songfic.

DISCLAIMER: This takes place during Don't You Dare Clock Out Early, shortly after Scout's attempted suicide.

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"Just about a year ago, I set off on the road.

Seekin' my fame and fortune, lookin' for a pot of gold.

Things got bad, and things got worse, I guess you know the tune.

Oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again."

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Scout sat alone in his room. He wanted to be alone. He didn't want anybody to see him now. Not Tracer, not his teammates, not anybody else from Overwatch, and especially not his Spy of a father. The nerve, the very nerve, that man had to call himself his father after abandoning him as a child to suffer constant abuse and neglect, without giving him any support or defense against his attackers. The vicious cycle of my stupid life, Scout would constantly say to himself at times like these, now being one of them.

When he found himself in times of trouble, brother Jordan came to him, speaking words of wisdom, "Shut the fuck up and let it go."

That's definitely what he would say if he was here right now, witnessing his brother's depression after being rejected by a girl who liked other girls, and had a girlfriend of her own.

God damn it, he thought some more. He might as well cry some more, as well. That's what a certain teammate of his would say.

His room at the Overwatch Watchpoint in Gibraltar was dark, his worn clothes, Bonk! cans, and comic books were lying all over the floor, with the only sound coming from the Creedence Clearwater Revival discs playing on his radio. Cosmo's Factory, Scout's favorite one of theirs, was playing, but not even that could cheer him up.

That's when I got to thinking: What do adults do when they're down and depressed in times like these? Of course they got sad and depressed, but he knew that they had better ways of coping with their problems. Alcohol was the first thing that came to Scout's mind. That was the main reason why his Scottish teammate was always in a happy mood. Because he was always too drunk to feel sad. But ever since Scout first joined the RED Team, which was just after he left high school at the age of 17, they never let him drink. Even after he turned the legal age to drink, they still kept all the booze out of his reach, because they were afraid of the effects it would have on him. If caffeine could make him so hyper that he'd run fast enough to bypass a Level 3 Sentry's bullets, imagine all the crap a bottle of beer would do to him, let alone a glass of Jack and Coke, which Engineer loved to drink.

Scout tried to think of other things, such as porno movies, music with explicit lyrics (He remembered the shitstorm that happened when MC5 released their now-classic live album Kick Out the Jams), and comfort food, but somehow, everything Scout thought of always went back to drugs. This time, though, he was thinking of tobacco.

Soldier was always in a good mood after a good battle when he'd light up a cigar and go into one of his usual tirades about the glories of America and how they would take down those dirty Soviets in Russia. Ever since hearing that communism collapsed in Eastern Europe in the late 20th century, he tried his hardest to use Winston's time machine to go to that specific time period and see the whole thing for himself, so that he could laugh in the Soviet's faces and tell them how the Screaming Eagles won again. The stars and stripes won both world wars, and he knew that they would win the Cold War, too, he would say, naturally neglecting to mention Korea or Vietnam at all.

Then of course there was his father, almost never seen without a cigarette in his mouth, drawing out huge puffs of smoke, like the dirty rat that he was. No matter how hard Scout tried, he just could not shift any attention away from his father, whom he had grown to hate so much. For a father who claimed to love his son and willingly took a beating from Overwatch's blinker, he had a very screwed-up way of showing it.

Finally, Scout decided that he had enough. He was going to do something his father did not want him to do at all, but he was going to do anyway, just to spite him.

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"Yesterday and days before, sun is cold and rain is hard. I know

Been that way for all my time.

Until forever, on it goes, through the circle fast and slow, I know

It can't stop, I wonder.

I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?

I want to know, have you ever seen the rain,

Comin' down on a sunny day?"

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He spent the next few hours listening to more Creedence albums. As soon as he got finished with Green River, it was nighttime. As that album's final song said, the night time was the right time. He got out of his room, silently sprinted through the halls, and tiptoed into his father's room. His father was absent. But he left some cigarettes lying around. Fine, Scout thought. You wanna be a tough parent? Fine. I'll play yer game. I'll be a tough son. He swiped the tobacco sticks from his father's stand, picked up a lighter that was also lying around the room, and then he left. He didn't start smoking right away. He knew that if he did, that would trigger an alarm throughout Overwatch and that would put a quick end to his smoking trip. OK, maybe it wasn't a trip. It wasn't a hard drug like cocaine, heroin, or LSD. Scout always wondering what LSD was like. He heard about all the good things people spoke about it. His own brother, Jesse, used LSD during his days as a criminal in a gang in Boston. But given the tight security measures at 2Fort, which didn't let up in the slightest at Overwatch, he knew he could rule out drug experiments for a while now.

He climbed on top of the roof at Watchpoint. He lit up a cigarette, and puffed it.

Scout coughed at the feeling of tobacco going down his throat for the first time in his life. It felt painful, it felt weird, it felt so strange. "Aw, jeez. This stuff's gross. Why'd anyone wanna be huffin' this down?" But then, the taste started to kick into his taste buds, and it felt so strangely good. "Ah, it's the aftertaste people are out for," he said.

He decided he would continue to smoke. Maybe with enough of this, he would finally be able to get that gritty rock and roll singing voice that he'd always wanted. He tried to achieve that on a diet of chocolate milk, Hersey's bars, and Bonk!, but it was no good. Engineer would always say to him that he sounded like Johnny Cash in Munchkinland. "Son, if you wanna sound just like the Man in Black," he would say, "Ya gotta put in twenty years of cigarettes, coffee, and whiskey. And there ain't no way your pa is gonna let ya have it." "Yeah, well screw him," Scout said, "I'll smoke these damn things if I goddamn wanna!" And Scout puffed another one in.

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"Oh, it came out of the sky, landed just a little south of Moline.

Jody fell of his tractor, couldn't believe what he'd seen.

Laid on the ground and shook, fearin' for his life.

Then he ran all the way to town, screamin' it came out of the sky.

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For once in his life, Scout felt at peace. The more cigarettes he smoked, the less they seemed to taste bad, and the more relaxed he felt. Now he knew why Spy and Soldier liked their cigars and cigarettes so much. There were no better stress relievers than these rolls of tobacco manufactured from the Deep South United States, probably from Mississippi or South Carolina or one of those states known for their tobacco farms. If twenty years of tobacco, whiskey, and coffee were what it took for Scout to get that classic rock voice that he was after, then he would go ahead and do it, and he wouldn't care what it took to get it. He'd steal from his teammates' liquor cabinets, sneak out of the base and grab drinks, whatever.

"What are you doing up here, mon ami?"

Scout turned around to face the all-too-familiar French accent. Of course. Now of all times his dumbass father had to come up there and see him and when all he wanted was to be alone.

" 'Ey, why do you care? Did ya come up here just to harass me? Fuck off!" Scout shouted back.

Spy noticed the smoke that was hovering around Scout's airspace. "Son, what are you doing?" He asked in concern.

"Don't call me 'Son'! You've never treated me like a 'son' before! I ain't about to call you 'dad' anytime soon!"

"Why is there smoke?"

"Why do ya care? Just playin' with fire. It's what I do. 'S what that masked freak does, too. Why ain't ya concerned 'bout him?"

Spy sniffed the air. Clearly ignoring the insults that Scout aimed in his direction, he continued talking to him. "I know that smell. That is tobacco. You are smoking. YOU ARE SMOKING!"

"Yeah, so?"

"Son," this time saying that word with extra emphasis, "Why are you smoking? You cannot be smoking. It is very bad for your health. You are a runner. You need your lungs to run and you will ruin them by smoking. Put that cigarette out now."

"Oh, look who's talkin'! Tellin' me how I'm killin' myself by smokin'! Don't ya go through at least a couple packs of these things in one day?! And you have the freakin' balls to tell me I'm ruinin' my life by having one of these?! Fuckin' hypocrite. Just fuck off and leave me the fuck alone."

"Son, I am not going to just 'fuck off and leave you the fuck alone.' As your father-"

Scout had enough of this. He lost his cool, ran over to Spy and shoved him. Spy fell over and landed hard on his back on the rooftop of Watchpoint. He grunted in pain upon impact, but unlike most times when he was attacked in this way, he made no attempt to get back up and continue to fight his attacker.

Just like earlier, when Tracer beat him within an inch of his life, he thought that he deserved the punishment that he was getting.

"Oh what?" Scout mockingly asked Spy as he lay on the ground, not having even trying to retaliate. "Ya gonna cry? Ya gonna cry now? Yeah, I guess when a little 'pint-sized mutt' kicks your stupid wop ass, that must be pretty humiliatin' for you, huh?"

"Son!" Spy clearly had enough of Scout's usual antics now. "I know why you are so upset towards me and you have every right to be, but right now I am trying my hardest to redeem myself and become the father that I should have been all those years ago! Now, if you are so tired of your life, er, 'sucking,' as you would call it, I would expect that you would stand still and allow me to get my story straight, if you want to keep your argument that you are better than me!"

Scout, who always thought he was a better man than Spy, had no counterargument and simply did as he was told, which was a rarity.

"Merci. Now, about the cigarettes. You are correct, I do sound like a hypocrite when I tell you to stop smoking. I do smoke those things quite often, as you have pointed out. I smoke a pack a day. Maybe two. Sometimes even three. It's a habit I developed ever since I was a young boy. Younger than you are now, in fact. I thought it was just a little stressor that would always help me when I needed it. But I quickly became so dependent on it that these days it is hard for me to function without them. I have developed a habit, son. A very dirty habit. I have started something which I cannot finish now.

That is why I am trying to get you to stop, son. I do not want you making my mistakes. I want you to learn your lesson the easy way, learning from someone else's mishaps rather than go through your own.

I am trying to be a father now, Jeremy," now addressing his son by his real name, "But I cannot if you will not let me. So please, my son, let me in. Let me correct the error of my ways and let me be the father that I should have been a long time ago."

Scout was naturally still feeling angry at Spy, but his feelings were now softening up. Now that he heard his reasoning towards why he didn't want him to smoke, it made much more sense now. And Spy was right, he knew, he could only be a good parent as long as his child would give him a chance to be one.

"Oh, alright," he finally agreed. He threw the cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out. He then tossed the other cigarettes off the roof of Watchpoint.

"NOOOOOO!" Spy shouted. Those were his cigarettes, after all. And they were not cheap at all, especially these days since America, as well as France and many other parts of the world, now had a very strict anti-smoking society.

"Aw, crap. Sorry Spy. Forgot they were yours."

Spy sighed. "Oh well. You might have just done me a favor, Jeremy," he said. He was much more calm about losing cigarettes than Scout expected him to be. He expected that after tossing his cigarettes off like they were garbage, Spy was going to bite his head off.

Scout's personal problems were far from over, but knowing that now his dad had his back made things just a little bit better. In a crummy life, at least he had something positive to look back on. He may have not been in good status with his brothers, he may not have had the girl he wanted, he may have not known his father for most of his life, but at least now there was some good to come from it. And later on, Scout would realize that not giving up on life was the right thing to do, as it got so much better later on.

But that's another story.

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"Pack my bag and let's get movin'

'Cause I'm bound to drift awhile

Thought I'm gone, gone, you don't have to worry

Long as I can see the light."

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Hope you all liked this quick little one-shot that I wrote. Again, I apologize for not updating this very often, but I don't want to do it unless I have some really good story to tell. Thank you all for your patience.

This was originally going to part of Don't You Dare Clock Out Early, but I felt it just didn't fit in with the story as well as I had hoped. I touched it up a little bit and decided to finally put it out for everyone here to see.

The songs used here were "Lodi," "Have You Ever Seen the Rain," "It Came Out of the Sky," and "Long as I Can See the Light" written by John Fogerty and performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival. The use of these lyrics is solely for entertainment purposes. No money or profit will be made off of this fanfiction. Please don't sue me, Mr. Fogerty.

I'm also working on the next chapter of my current story, Meet the New Life, Not the Same as the Old Life. But it's coming a bit slower than I expected, mostly due to some writer's block over one specific part (the subplot with Miss Pauling). If anyone would like to help me out with that (IE, give me some suggestions on what to do), you are free to contact me and let me know.

Your first instinct might be to contact me using this website's IM, but I'd prefer that you friend me on Steam and speak to me over Steam IM. My Steam username is simply Rockgod and my profile picture is the same as it is here.

That goes for anyone else reading. If you'd like to speak to me about things, related to my fanfiction or to gaming, or to play games (I play quite frequently), send me a friend request on Steam, and drop a line on the IM to me. I'll be willing to speak about just about anything.

That's all for now, if I think of any other one-shot stories to tell (or if anyone has any suggestions), I'll be sure to get them up on here!