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Joe sat on his lawn chair, newspaper in hand.
He had been sitting like this for at least an hour now, scooching his lawn chair around in an attempt to remain in the shadow of one of the only trees growing on these wastelands. He was sitting there long enough to tune out the screams of rage and agony coming from the nearby scrap of land between the RED and BLU bases in Teufort. The mercenaries have yet again been fighting over worthless and possibly empty briefcases, but who was he to tell them anything?
Noone. Exactly.
He sighed, turning the page in his newspaper. The local news wasn't all that interesting and the only reason he was reading this crap was because his little radio had recently broken down. He considered handing it over to either the RED or the BLU Engineer, but he eventually decided against it. The two men have probably had enough on their plates as it is.
He hummed a quiet tune, his other hand absentmindedly scratching his unshaven cheek as his eyes skimmed over the articles. This one man cleaning crew job wasn't half bad, actually. All day free, aside from little intervals of cleaning between the matches. Oh, he could absolutely get used to that. Even his somewhat complicated relationship with the two teams didn't make it any less worse.
He changed his position, now crossing his legs. One of his feet swayed slightly while the other absentmindedly tapped the ground. A piercing scream of what was probably a rocket jumping Soldier – Joe assumed him to be the RED one, his voice was more high pitched than his BLU counterpart's – made him sigh, and he again turned the page. Yes, he will definitely need to ask one of the Engies to repair his little radio. He doubted he would survive without his beloved music for much longer.
He was lost deep in his thoughts before a crumb of some kind fell down onto his newspaper. It wasn't supposed to rain today – he thought numbly, and then froze. It was a crumb. And last time he checked, crumbs weren't falling from the sky, no matter how rainy it was.
His gaze slowly travelled upwards, searching the crown of the tree stretching above him.
That was when he spotted them – a masked person, perched up high above the branches. Wasn't that the new mercenary, recently introduced to them by Miss Pauling in absence of team RED's usual Spy? His eyes narrowed, and he stood up to take a better look at the mercenary. The figure shifted uncomfortably, hiding something behind their back.
“Spy? What are you doing there? Come down.” Joe decided on calling out, and the new Spy seemingly winced.
“No.” They called back, and clung to the branches.
“Spy. Come down. Now.” Joe decided on using a more firm tone now and the young mercenary groaned, rolling their eyes. They jumped down from the tree, glaring down at older yet much shorter Joe with a pout as they scratched their balaclava-clad head.
“Don't call me ‘Spy’. Spy is him, I am– I'm Monkey. My name's Monkey.” The mercenary shook their head, still holding something behind their back.
“My apologies. So, Monkey, what were you doing up there in the tree? Shouldn't you be out, fighting for that briefcase or whateva’?” Joe repeated the question, and his head tilted slightly in surprise when he saw Monkey reveal a Sandvich they were holding and hiding from him.
“I stole it from Heavy. It was all way too much! All the shooting, and screaming, and I got so hungry, and I just couldn't handle it!” Monkey gestured wildly as they raised their voice, but then their emotions abruptly simmered down and they slumped their shoulders. Almost as if they suddenly remembered that they were venting to practically a stranger.
“So you… abandoned your team, stole a Sandvich, and escaped the battlefield?” Joe's eyes narrowed as he pointed out just how wrong their behaviour was, and Monkey dropped their gaze and glared into the ground.
“I couldn't handle it.” They repeated, and Joe slowly nodded.
They were new. Still unused to the war, probably. And they were young, seemed to be no older than Scout or Sniper.
“Well, sit down and eat like a person. Better here than in the tree.” He pointed at his lawn chair and Monkey's eyes lit up. They sat down eagerly, and took a bite out of what was meant to be Heavy's lunch. “I won't tell anyone. You can stay here for a while to wind down before you return out there.” He continued and Monkey thankfully nodded. They devoured the Sandvich with great gusto, focused only on satiating their hunger.
Joe observed them eat, his hands working absentmindedly to fold the newspaper he was previously reading into a packet small enough to fit into the back pocket of his gray dungarees. Then he turned, observing the distinct buildings of the RED and BLU bases in the distance. He was stationed quite away from there, and yet Monkey managed to find him. He wondered how the mercenary life was treating them. Were they happy? Overwhelmed? Scared? He himself had never fought in a war like this before. He had never killed a man before, either. How was Monkey doing all that?
“Are you afraid of death?” He suddenly realised he was voicing his thought out loud and he cringed internally. It was such an idiotic question to ask out of the blue. Especially that the mercenaries had respawn machines - they took care of this slight inconvenience which was mortality. And even if they really died, their medics were just mad enough to bring them back to life. He still remembered the time when the RED Sniper had shown him his autopsy scars. Seeing them was terrifying, in his humble opinion.
At first Monkey sputtered in surprise, and yet once they regained their cool they seemed to take this question seriously. They finished the Sandvich and ate the green olive from the toothpick, then hummed in thought as they used said toothpick to get rid of a piece of salad stuck between their uneven teeth. “I… don’t know.” They said eventually, their blue eyes travelling up to the cleaner who still had his back turned to them. “I don’t really remember any life without the respawn machine.” The unexpected words made Joe turn again, his eyes widened with surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t remember. The before.” Monkey repeated. Joe approached her and knelt down on the ground in front of the lawn chair she was on, his knees protesting loudly.
“Yeah, I heard that one. Just– What do you mean by that?” Joe’s confusion was palpable, and it made his younger companion a little flustered as well.
“The Medic called it amnesia. Means I have no memories.” Monkey explained, avoiding eye contact with Joe. They seemed uneasy talking about the topic, and yet they didn't shy away from it.
“So ‘Monkey’...”
“It’s not my real name, no. The Engineer called me that after he saw me climbing.” Monkey shook their head. “I don't really have any recollection of my life before arriving here. No childhood memories, no idea who I am or where I came from. I don’t mind it all that much. I am still exploring myself, and you know…” She tried to make the atmosphere more lighthearted, and Joe recognised the attempt. He smiled and nodded.
“So… how do you find life? Your fellow mercs, the surroundings? Like it so far?” He decided to change the topic of their conversation and it was more than clear that Monkey appreciated it.
“It's… chaotic. But also I think that I used to fight in my previous life, because it comes to me very easily. All the… Violence. Still gets a little too much sometimes, though.” Monkey said thoughtfully. Joe nodded and sat down fully, stretching his short legs.
“You know, if you ever need to take a short break, I'm here. Won't tell the guys. No one will know.” He suggested, and Monkey looked at him with interest. A small smile grew on their face.
“Thanks, pal. I will make sure to come here when the battle gets too overwhelming.” Monkey reached out and patted Joe's shoulder, their touch lingering on his shirt. The man smiled back and the two of them sat there in comfortable silence, accompanied by shrieking of pain and agony still coming from the nearby battle grounds.
Since then, Joe's life immediately became more colourful. He was eagerly waiting for that little moment when his new friend visited him, seeking rest and peace and quiet for just a few minutes. He began to prepare water and food for them, and even brought out a second lawn chair just for them. His old and numb heart now beat more lively just at the sight of the young mercenary, who was looking at him with their big, soft eyes every time they met.
He liked it a lot. More than a lot, even, but not in a freaky way. Having no children himself he had an almost parental relationship with the kid, especially seeing how confused they were at the beginning of their little friendship. A warm smile bloomed on his damaged by the sun face every time he proudly noticed Monkey discover themself more and more, relearning their life lost behind the thick veil of amnesia that hung heavily in their mind like a velvet curtain.
He once again looked down at the notes about the kid he had been making in his little notebook. They liked coffee – he knew that much, after he noticed how stained their uneven teeth were. His other hypothesis was that they could also be yellow from smoking cigarettes, but he soon scratched the idea out; he quickly learned they couldn't stand the smell of smoke. Their hands were calloused underneath the climbing gloves they wore, their body's lean and wiry build hinted at lots of physical activity and a protein-rich diet even before joining the team. The accent… he had been trying to pinpoint its origin for weeks now, and to no avail. It wasn't as obvious as the Heavy's Russian or the Medic's German. In fact, it was just vague enough to deem him completely helpless regarding the climber's motherland. Joe's bushy eyebrows furrowed with thinly veiled frustration, and he knocked the back of his pencil against the notebook's hard cover.
“You scribbling again?” Monkey's warm voice sounded behind him and Joe's grip on the pencil loosened. His head tilted back to look at the mercenary standing on his six. This time they had no balaclava on and their coffee-stained smile was bright on their pale, freckled face.
Joe chuckled, closing the notebook and placing it away. “You could say so, Monkey. Come, sit down. There's coffee in the thermal mug.” He gestured at the other lawn chair and the provisions next to it. Monkey clapped happily and sat down, their long legs crossed. “Good day?” He asked, and the climber nodded energetically.
“Oh, yeah! The Spy is back. Miss Pauling said I will remain on the team, because the BLUs are getting another merc as well!” She said enthusiastically and Joe nodded his head. She didn't seem to need the wind-down break today, and it warmed his heart to think she came to him not because she needed to but because she wanted to.
“You're smiling.”
“I'm just happy you visited the old man, Monkey.”
The two sat in silence, one looking far off into the horizon, the other sipping and slurping on coffee. They didn't need words in this odd bond that appeared between them in the past few weeks. Sometimes all they needed was each other's presence, and the feeling of being loved.
The RED Spy crossed his arms, observing them from a distance.
So that was why he had heard rumours about his replacement disappearing. Why they were nowhere to be found at some point in the matches, why the BLU had had it easier lately.
He shrugged and turned around, recloaking. He had no idea what he was going to do with this information yet, but that was going to be a problem for another day. After all he could be cold and uncaring, but he too had his rare moments of compassion and softness. Even for the irresponsible and insubordinate teammates – he thought to himself and allowed his lips to quirk briefly into a faint shadow of a smile before he retreated into the horizon.