Respawn of the Dead

Chapter 7

Author's Note

Sorry, I've been busy with school and all since it started. I should be able to update this a few times a week or once but writing does take time. Anyways I'll stop talking and you can head right into the next chapter.

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Sniper had never really been in Demoman's room, or any of his other teammates' rooms, for that matter. He was standing just outside the door, his knuckles hovering over it before rapping quietly.

"S'open, mate, let yerself in," Demoman answered.

As he opened the door the first thing he noticed was the large Scottish flag draped on the wall, curving downwards under its own weight and spilling its bottom edge over stacks of magazines and paperbacks on Demoman's desk. Tabloid clippings about UFOs, ghost-sightings, and monsters were tacked up all over the wall, broken up by the occasional pin-up. Empty bottles had accumulated in one corner of the room, and were guarding an overflowing trashcan filled to the brim with balled-up sheets of paper. Demoman himself had somehow gotten a hold of the chalkboard Soldier was fond of using during planning sessions, and was setting up a small number of wooden crates on the floor. "Good t' see ya, laddie! Hopefully some o' th' others'll be on their way inna moment."

"I hope so," Sniper closed the door behind him with a muted click. "I'd feel right bloody stupid if I was the only one t' show up fer this."

"Aye. But I got a good feelin' about this," Demoman seemed to be almost...chipper, like the prospect of holding any sort of meeting where he could make plans excited him. At least he was in a good mood, Sniper thought. If he had managed to shoot the BLU Spy, they wouldn't be in this mess. "Ye feelin' all righ' there, Sniper?"

"'M fine, mate, don't worry about it." Sniper sat down on one of the boxes on the floor, visibly slumping as he rested his elbows right above his knees.

Demoman walked over to the Sniper and patted him on the back, though to Sniper is felt more like a swat, and he nearly fell off his crate. "Lissen, mate. Ye did th' best ye could. Donnae beat yerself up o'er it, t'won't do ye any good."

"Thanks, Demo," Sniper straightened himself up a bit, trying to recover from the friendly blow dealt by the Scotsman in a manner as graceful as possible. He tried to crack a smile, but it faltered on his lips. His pride as a professional would never fully recover from this. Maybe getting completely shitfaced like Demo was at any given time would not be such a terrible idea.

There was another knock at the door, this one to the tune of "Shave and a Haircut." Demoman whirled around eagerly, practically galloping to the door, gripping the knob and pulling it back, to see Scout and Spy standing in the frame.

"Hey, man. You still holdin' your meeting?" Scout asked, standing on one foot as the other was rubbed against his calf.

"O' course! C'mon in, 'ave a seat," Demoman ushered the two of them in. Spy was making sure to keep a healthy distance between him and the Scotsman. Scout eagerly plopped himself down on one of the wooden crates, and Spy just slunk off into a corner and propped himself against the wall, taking out a fresh cigarette and lighting it nonchalantly.

"Well," Demoman started, "We should prolly wait fer anyone else tae show up before-"

"Zey are not coming," Spy said flatly, cigarette dangling from his lip as he slipped his lighter back into his pocket. "Engineer 'as passed out in 'is room, Soldier is off somewhere talking to 'imself, Heavy and Medic are in ze infirmary, and Star Trek is on tonight, so Pyro obviously will not be making an appearance. Zis is everyone."