-THE SCOUT-

Yo okay so uh, listen up. I'm THEE one, THEE only, an' that's all there is to it. But some a' yous guys got a lotta issues wit tissues an' all that, so here's what I wanchu ta do:

Spit the Crackuh Jack outcha' mouth, put on yuh big boy pan'nies an' step up to da plate. Got sum'm t'say? Take a crack at it. I got nothin' t'lose here, do you? Didn't think so, chicken lips.

So out wit it, Nancy, I'll even let ya play spy if y'wanna. I won't even put a "I'm a Freakin Moron" sign on yer back so I can see who you are latuh when I catch up t' yer'ass. (Whoa hey, I made a funny. Me. Catch up witChu. HAH! ) But don't THINK for a freakin' SECOND, that I'm gonna letchu walk outta here talkin' smack, 'cause I'll bust ya' head, got it? I'll freakin' trash you, and make a nice dent in yer skull I can eat my Lucky Chahms outta.

BONK!

( MEET THE MUN )

[There's a louder than usual buzzing sound, tweaking and crackling as the communicator shocks the Scout for the final time after a countless number of the routine jolts. This time it's answered with a long, loud hiss through the teeth and a resounding-- ]

ffffffffFFFFFUUUUUUUU-CKuh!

Alright already, Jeez, keep yer freakin' hard wired pants on you piece'a crap! Sick'a you zappin' me all the time- you're like a faulty freakin' Bond toy or somethin'! What, did someone rattle your Cracker Jack box before I got stuck with you?! smm thr frk'n shh.. mutha' fff- should just smash the freakin'- dammit!

[Scout shoves the communicator in his pocket and goes about his business, once the loudmouth remembers that the communicator has no feelings... After a moment he grunts and there's a squeaking, grinding sound, like a stuck window coming open. There's shuffling as Scout lets himself inside through it, toeing carefully through the dark room he just entered.]

Psssst... Maka! You okay in here? Maaa~kuuuuh...    ...Yo, MAKA! What the hell man, I'm trippin' on these freakin' books!-whoops!

*Mew...*

What the-

*MEW!*

FUCKIN-- WHAT THE HELL!

[Oh yes, those are very very tiny mews and squealing (from both parties...) while Scout narrowly avoids stomping a poor defenseless little kitten out of sheer clumsiness, only to have it weave in and out between his ankles and instead crashes into a large stack of books, which he will later be convinced was strategically placed in the middle of the floor just to trip him.]

CRICKET!! GET YER TWIGGY ASS OUT HERE- YOU GOT SOME KIND OF DEMON-RAT-THING TRYING TA EAT YOUR BOOKS!!

[Someone doesn't know a kitty when he sees one...]

Hoooly Jesus, y'can't see a pile'a Tons'a Fun's guts five friggin' inches from your face! The heck's goin' on here?!

Yo, Cricket! Still lost in a book someplace or didju get yerself lost in this pea soup crap? An' what about Beat, you seen 'im? Dammit, this place gets weirder and weirder the longer I'm stuck here. What dump.

[Bzzzzt]

AAH- Tchsssssss, holy ffffffff...! [Scout spins around and throws his hand up in the air, whipping it hard and making his fingers slap together loudly as he tries to flap out the pain] -Mutha puss bucket! This thing busted or what?! The little crap just shocked me! I'm about ta hit this sucka outta th'pahk! You hear me, you little crap?! I'm gonna bash the bajeezus outta you!

[And sure as hell, there's a clatter on the floor and a loud CRACK, accompanied by a loud, abnoxious "BONK!" from the Scout. Annnd some crunch-crash-CLANK as his trusty aluminum bat hits the hard floor every couple hits. There's a scrape as he picks it up and examines it.]

...What the hell, man?! This piece a' junk ain't even dented, screw that! So uh, look. I gotta get the hell outta this lobby. When the hell's this rain gonna let up? I ain't lookin' forward to more holes in my stuff or no matchin' holes in my precious body parts, know what I mean? C'mon man! Cut it already, I wanna play some ball or somethin'... Or see all these monsters everybody was whinin' about. I still ain't see squat!

Axel, c'mon man, help me out! Do that teleporty-thingy you did that one time! POOF an' all the smoke an' mirrors! Monkey Wrench's teleporters don't smoke like dat unless they're freakin busted. Get a better one, man.

'Ey Cricket, you ain't gettin' yer knobby knees singed off in all this weird chemical rain, are ya?

YO, BEAT! YEAH I KNOW YA HEAR ME, JERKOFF! BEAT-O OR WHATEVUH! BEEEEAT!!

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA[Aah, a merciful an accidental disconnection to free you from his loud teasing.]

[Heavy coughing and swearing on the other end until Scout can manage to speak]

F-f-fuh-- dammit. c-can't a guy even.. swuh- swear right? Sh-shit... tryin' tuh... *COUGH*

[Scout, ash, and the great outdoors- or rather the big city- don't seem to agree with each other with nowhere to go, and he's not exactly sure of the procedure for a damn VOLCANO.]

I'm freakin dyin' h-here. *Wheeze* This office buildin' I'm crashin' in may have a nice f-freakin' view b *hack* ..... but that sucks when ya need t'shut a window, know what I mean? C-can't exactly shut the wall...

[There's some shuffling and skips in his step as he drags his feet and stumbles along, down the steps of the abandoned office building he's in and out onto the darkened, ashy street]

Screw this... findin' anotha place tuh... to... to uh...

...

*THUD*

[OOC- Oh yeah, I forgot... So maybe he'll answer, maybe he won't, but he needs some help because the dumbass is choking on the ashes of our enemiiies all over the place.]

Startin' ta think you guys're tryin'ta kill me here! Whoevuh told me "Go'duh Latimir" needs to choke on a big fat salty dog cuz that shit just fell.

So I been kickin' around in the dirt for a few days now, and to be honest witchu? Kinda sick of it. It's freakin' cold at night. I thought my ass fell off. I mean it. My freakin' ASS. If I'm gonna be in this dump for more than a few more minutes, where do I go where the ceiling don't got stars on it?

From what a picked up from all you buncha' sad sacks is we're s'possed to use these walkie talkies t'complain. Fine, bozos, I got some complaints for ya. One, freakin' cold. I think I already said that, but bear wit me, because... It's freakin' cold. 

Two, I think I ran all up an' down this shit hole an' I can't find the road outta town. Where's it at? Don't hold out on me just cuz you can't stand t'lose my company.

Three? And uh, let me take a minute to point out that this is a pretty big freakin' numbah. This place? Is filled with the weirdest buncha' lunatic, apeshit, batshit, whatever-the-shit motherfuckers-- I ever heard. And I seen a lotta shit. People talkin' about powerrrs an' cat peopllle an' monsterrrrs- what else you all gonna pitch at me, huh? Because I'll hit it right back to ya. Y'buncha freakin' batshit loonies, probably drugged-up' mothuh fu-

Okay. Okay okay okay okay look. I ain't from around here. Diss-ey-doe or whatevuh the name'a dis place is. Pure Mass-hole right here, I come from Boston. Anybody know the quickest way back to Mass, lemme know. An' what's up with the freakin' two moons?! Yer all freakin' crazy!

[The camera clicks on to reveal a figure, shadowed and slumped up against the side of a building. It's hard to tell who or what it is in the dark, head bowed and obviously not awake until it starts to mumble. Some sound like a whimpering creature, some sound like words. Others sounds are downright insulting, and somewhere along the lines of "yer mutha..." The voice makes it clear that it's a young boy, and when he shuffles just so it confirms it. The moonlight hits the side of his face, beneath the brim of his black cap.

This is The Scout.
( OOC cut for space )