Scouting the talent. A TF2 backstory

Prologue.

Thomas Brewer spend the first night in his new house stood patiently on his back porch. A lit cigarette providing the only light on a moonless night. Fingers drumming nervously against an empty bottle of Whisky, he was about to call it a bad job as the time streched towards 4:00am. No one was coming, typical. People with Brewer blood in their veins never acted out on threats. Truly, he was a coward. At twelve noon he would pack his shit, hit the road and never enlighten his family with his presence ever again. Soon enough, they'd give him up for dead. 
If only.
His train of thought was suddenly interuppered, and he choked. He wanted to say something witty and comfronting but for the first time in his life, words just failed him. The only noise that were to ever break the silence on that late, late night in Boston, Massachusetts was the crack from 7 successive gunshots, then after. The sound of 7 people running away into the distance, none of whom were ever captured or seen again.
But the reconstruction of the early hours of May 17, 1958 doesn't end there, sadly. Eight brothers set out to kill one old man that night. Seven of which, each fired .38 into his chest. But after, one brother failed to leave the scene. Aaron Brewer remained rooted to the ground, staring at the man that ruined his life. And a unfired gun held loosely in his hands. 
Several minutes later it took two Police Offices to slam a young boy's head into the ground. Some people might call it brutaliy, but eyewitnesses claim he was so dazed he could have been hit in the face by a shovel, and not have felt a damn thing. 

Two days later. One rich, old lady dressed in a Red business suit was reading her paper and enjoying a smoke when she first set eyes on his story. 
"Well I'll be... Richard, come here! We might have something..."



Much more to come later!   
   

Chapter One      Brewer v Massachusetts

When a Baseball playing eleven year old from the streets of Boston was convicted of shooting his own father seven times with a .38 revolver. The entire USA screamed bloody murder. Some people blamed the lack of family values, or Communism, others blamed the sudden popularity in a new type of music, or Rock and Roll. 
The whole cour case was a sham. Everyone in the Jurors box knew the verdict before they even heard the full story, and after that was told, just proved their point. 
Thomas Brewer was a digusting and terrible man. When he wasn't eating he drank, when he wasn't drinked he smoked. To pass the time he played poker and gambled away the family's savings. To escape, the brothers learnt to stick up for themselves. The mother however, was not so lucky. After falling down the stairs during an 'argument' she developed a Brain hemorrhage and died on May 16, 1958. 24 hours later, Aaron Brewer picked up .38, continued towards his father's second home,then murdering him in cold blood. Shooting 6 times, then reloading, and finally shooting him a seventh time. The prosecuter made it very clear that he was lucky to be a minor. And that Masschusetts does not stage the death penalty.

His lawyers did the best they could, all throughout the case he sat bolt upright, pretending he had some idea of what the hell they were doing, with his combed hair and a tidy, little suit that didn't fit too good and made him look like a begger. Often they would spend a good deal telling him to plead insanity or say he was assited by one of his brothers. Now, he didn't understand what pleading insanity was, but he knew he wasn't a snitch.
After two weeks straight of been told what a cold blooded killer he was, the judge read out his sentence. The news that he was to spend the good part of his life in prison, caused his legs to buckle and, as I recall, leaving him on the floor crying out for his momma. The defendants raged that this was not the sign of a boy that would shoot a man seven times. Other simply stated that he finally showing remorse for his terrible crime.
It took 5 minutes before an embarressed guard, who was more used to rapists and Thiefs, had to pick a screaming child from the ground. After that, was my job. After I met the judge I said I wanted to speak with him and the boy, in private. That took him back a little, an old man like myself, what in god's name would I want with a convicted murderer? But for a bumbling old man I can be very persuasve, and after I told him who I was and what I could to do to everything he'd worked so hard for, he quickly changed his mind. Everyone with links knows about us, they just can't put faces to the names, people think I'm some soughta' 3 headed Dragon. 
And in a special meeting just between me, judge, Aaron and god as our witness. The deal was done there and then.
"Now boy, you're been giving a choice on this current predicament. Now, would you like to spend the rest of your stinking life behind bars and been passed round the showers like some dirty rag. Or would you prefer to work with this nice gentleman on one of his BLU factories around the world?"
"I don't..."
"Boy, really you don't have no choice."
"Well... BLU? Now I ain't never been nowhere or whatnot."
 "Oh Splendid !!" And we shook hands there and then.

*sigh* If only we knew what we getting into...

I like how you give him the name Aaron, which is my name, and I main scout.

Hmmm... have you been stalking me?

Chapter Two    First encounter with a RED

Sniper had been fighting this war long enough to know the basic layout of a BLU base. The newly constructed Hydro was no different. Plenty of abandoned rooms, dimly lit walkways and higher balconies overlooking the main yards. Infiltration was tried, tested and by the book. Park the Campervan in the desert, sneak inside and find a good spot. He saw a Engie, just laying by a campfire, gazing towards the stars, an easy kill if he wanted to, but,the night was not his, instead he conitinued his search for the perfect position. What he found was an old workhouse with boarded windows. All he had to do now was wait...and wait....

"Aaron do you want a smoke?"
"What? No man, I'm a fuckin runner. I need these lungs."
"Sure, you know, Aaron I'm going to tell you something, when you agreed to work for Builders League United. We didn't ever plan on putting you in civvie clothes. We wanted you for a fighter."
"WHAT? A fighter? But why? Now, that's gay that, I mean fag gay. I'm eleven, what sorta shit could I ever do for you?"
That did make me laugh. New Scouts were always little pricks to start off with, some never changed.
"Age is not a problem for the Builders league. Training lasts for ten years. Once you join the fight for dominance over enemy companies, the year will be 1968 and you'll be just sigh of 21 years of age. Now,you mentioned that Miliatry service ran in your family?"
"Well, yeah I suppose. Uncle was one of the first people to reach the banks on Omaha beach!"
"Oh ja? I was figting at zee beach landing too zer Aaron." Great, now we were having a three way conversation.
"Really? Shit. Now you've got yerself a funny accent. You fight for Canada?"
"Hee hee, no not acsactly..."
"Dammit Kasper! Watch the damn road... Aaron this is Kasper, personal driver for me, Medical service for BLU. We go way back."
"Dank a' eine fuhur. We ave' arrived..."

The opening of the Hydroelectricity plant on the border between Texas and Oklahoma went perfectly well and towards plan. I gave a short speech on the importance of such BLU areas and how in times of war, we should always be cautious. After that, we turned the turbines on for the first time. The workers, who were confused by what war I was actually talking about, were sent away. While standing by the dam I drew out defensive areas and explained routes for both attacking and retreaing.                                                                                                                                           
"Wait, you mean we're going to be                                   shot at?"                                                                                                                                                 
"Yes Aaron I do mean that, you will make new friends here. Some of which will die. We will do our best to keep you well supplied with new recruits, weapons and equiptment."                                                                                                                                                                               
"Oh, ok then but- wait, you've got red on your face, I--"                                                                                                                                     
"SNIP-                                                                                                                                                                                                         Crack                                                                                                                                                                                                         

I'm pretty sure that the bullet that pierced my left eye must have been fully charged for up to four hours. Causing me to do to a double flip off the dam that a gymnast would have been proud off. Its an urban legend that my death cost BLU billions. Not only because of my importance, but also because my corpse jammed the Turbines so bad, we couldn't produce no energy for up to six months.
RED's assasin did try to escape and then fight back against the army of pissed off mercenarys, Elizabeth would have been proud about that, that her boys showed spirit. But he hadn't a chance. After trying to escape in his van, we had enough intelligence to block the road with a overturned truck, forcing him to get out on foot. Of course, he would have preferred this. The Sierra desert was his playingfield. Anyone that went after himwould have lost their head. That is of course, besides the Scout. One of our Riflemen said the only thing he saw of little Aaron Brewer was a figure chasing after Sniper, Bat in hand. Nobody knows exactly what happened between the two that evening. But apparently, Aaron came back covered in so much blood he was almost mistook for a RED.
"Well done herr'Aaron, congrats!!!"
"Shut it, deutschbag! My name is the Scout now."

And don't you fucking forget it...