TEAM FORTRESS SYSTEM OVERRIDE
Sugar-Coated Glitches and Leather Stitches
The fluorescent hum of the local supermarket was doing nothing to soothe the pounding in Scout’s head. Usually, he loved the mindless ritual of shopping—tossing boxes of cereal into the cart like he was scoring three-pointers, flirting with the cashier, and admiring his own reflection in the freezer doors. Today, however, the air felt thin.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb hovering over Miss Pauling’s contact.
*Any news? Is the Administrator still seeing red?*
He waited, leaning against a stack of canned peaches. A minute later, the screen lit up.
*Nothing, Jeremy,* Pauling replied. *She’s moved on to the next set of contracts. It doesn’t look like the Tenth Class is coming back. I’m sorry.*
Scout felt a strange, hollow thud in his chest. He should have been happy. The "intruder" was gone. The team was back to its original, comfortable nine. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Ethan standing in that blood-spattered office, looking less like a hacker and more like a vengeful god. It wasn't fair. The guy had done the right thing, even if he’d done it the messy way.
"Stupid pink-haired nerd," Scout muttered, though there was no bite in it. He grabbed a giant bag of sour gummy worms, hoping the sugar rush would drown out the guilt.
His phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't Pauling.
*I’m bored, JJ. Come over. Right now.*
Scout groaned. It was Katie. His ex-girlfriend was the human equivalent of a tactical flashbang—loud, blindingly bright, and guaranteed to leave you disoriented. She was spoiled, prone to screaming fits if she didn't get her way, and had a knack for knowing exactly when Scout was at his lowest. A string of photos followed the text—mostly selfies in her bedroom mirror that were clearly designed to bait him.
*I’m busy, Kate,* he typed back.
*I don't care. If you don't come, I’m telling everyone you cried when we watched that dog movie. I want to talk.*
Scout sighed, his shoulders slumping. He knew the routine. If he didn't go, she’d call him thirty times and leave screeching voicemails. It was easier to just surrender. "Fine," he whispered to the gummy worms. "Just for an hour."
By 2 PM, Scout was perched on the edge of Katie’s expensive velvet sofa. The apartment smelled like vanilla candles and desperation. Katie wasn't "talking." She was lounging next to him, her legs draped over his lap, complaining about her hair stylist while a movie he didn't recognize played silently on the TV.
"You're not even listening," she pouted, twisting a lock of blonde hair around her finger.
"I am! You said the highlights were too... yellowy?" Scout tried to lean away, but the sofa was deep.
"You're so tense, Jeremy. Why are you so tense?" She leaned in, her perfume cloying and thick.
Scout felt the familiar, suffocating pressure. He tried to refuse, tried to make an excuse about a mission or a training drill, but Katie didn't take 'no' for an answer. She viewed boundaries as challenges. What followed was a blur of obligation and discomfort—a physical transaction that left Scout feeling more hollow than when he’d arrived. It wasn't the first time he’d let her steamroll him just to keep the peace, but today, the shame felt sharper. He felt like a glitch in his own life.
By 4 PM, Katie was back to her usual, bubbly self, seemingly oblivious to Scout’s thousand-yard stare.
"Ugh, I need to get out," she announced, checking her makeup in a hand mirror. "I’m calling Anthony. We’re going to the mall. I’ll even buy you a Starbucks so you stop looking like a kicked puppy."
"I don't really feel like—"
"Get dressed, Jeremy. We're going."
The mall was a sea of Saturday shoppers. Scout felt exposed, his usual bravado replaced by a leaden weight in his stomach. Anthony, a loud-mouthed guy who lived for drama, was already waiting by the fountain with another friend, Kay.
Kay was a trans guy Scout had known for a while. He was quiet, wore oversized anime hoodies, and was one of the few people who didn't make Scout feel like he had to be "on" all the time.
"Hey, Kay," Scout said, his voice finally gaining a spark of genuine warmth. "Is that a new pin? Is that from *Neon Genesis*?"
Kay smiled, pointing to his lapel. "Yeah! I finally finished the series last night. It was intense."
"Dude, the ending is a total trip, right? Like, everyone just turns into Fanta?" Scout started gesturing wildly, finally feeling a bit like himself. "I didn't get the giant head thing at first, but—"
"Oh my god, shut up!" Katie snapped, stepping between them. She glared at Kay with a look of pure venom. "Jeremy, I didn't bring you here to talk about cartoons with... whatever this is."
Scout blinked, taken aback. "Whoa, Kate, chill. We’re just talking."
"No! You’re ignoring me for *him*?" She turned her gaze to Kay, her voice rising, drawing the attention of passersby. "You think you can just stand there in your little costume and act like you’re one of the guys? You’re a freak, Kay. A confused, little girl freak."
Kay flinched, his face going pale.
"Katie, stop it!" Scout shouted, but she was on a roll, fueled by a cocktail of boredom and malice. She began hurling slurs—vicious, transphobic vitriol that echoed off the Starbucks counter.
"You don't belong here! Why don't you go find a bathroom you’re actually allowed in?" she shrieked.
Scout felt paralyzed. He wanted to swing, wanted to scream, but the weight of the afternoon and his own history with her held him in place.
Then, the crowd parted.
A pair of high-heeled black boots clicked sharply against the tile. Scout looked up and felt his heart stop.
It was Ethan. But not the Ethan he knew from the base.
The Hacker was wearing a short, form-fitting dress made of shimmering black leather that hugged his frame and showed off a pair of powerful, dark-skinned thighs that seemed to go on forever. He had stunning makeup on—sharp eyeliner that made his yellowish eyes look predatory—and silver rings glittering in his ears. He looked like a high-fashion nightmare, beautiful and terrifying.
He wasn't alone. Flanking him were two women: Aline, a petite Korean woman with a sharp bob, and Roxxane, a tall Black woman with braids that reached her waist.
Ethan didn't look at Katie first. He looked at Kay. "Kay? *Meu querido*, is everything alright?"
Kay’s eyes went wide. "Ethan? What are you doing here?"
They shared a quick, fierce hug. "I was just doing some shopping with the girls," Ethan said, his voice smooth as silk but laced with a dangerous edge. He finally turned his gaze toward Katie, who was looking at him with a mix of confusion and disgust.
"And who is this loud, unflavored cracker?" Ethan asked, tilting his head.
"I’m his girlfriend!" Katie yelled, grabbing Scout’s arm and trying to pull him away. "And who do you think you are, showing up dressed like a—"
"A goddess?" Ethan interrupted, stepping into her space. He was much taller than her, especially in the heels. "I am the person who is about to explain to you that your voice is grating, your makeup is three seasons out of date, and your soul is as ugly as those shoes."
Aline stepped forward, crossing her arms. "Seriously, honey. Transphobia in a Starbucks? It’s not just bigoted; it’s embarrassing."
"It’s tacky," Roxxane added, her voice a low rumble. "You’re making a scene because you’re insecure. It’s pathetic."
Katie turned purple. "Jeremy! Tell them! Tell them to leave us alone!"
Scout looked at Ethan. The Hacker was looking back at him, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his painted lips. Ethan reached out, his long fingers wrapping around Scout’s other arm.
"Actually," Ethan said, his voice dropping to that low, vibrating purr Scout remembered from the shooting range. "He’s not going anywhere with you."
"Excuse me?" Katie gasped.
Ethan yanked Scout toward him, pulling him out of Katie’s grip. "Nuh-uh," Ethan cooed, leaning down so his cheek brushed against Scout’s. "This one’s mine."
Scout felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His face exploded into a brilliant shade of crimson, his brain short-circuiting as he felt the warmth of Ethan’s body and the smooth texture of the leather dress against his arm.
"Yours?!" Katie shrieked. "He’s not—Jeremy, say something!"
Scout couldn't say anything. He was busy trying to remember how to breathe.
"Go away, little girl," Ethan said, his yellowish eyes flashing. "Before I decide to get truly mean."
Seeing she was outnumbered and outclassed, Katie let out a frustrated scream, stomped her foot, and turned tail, running toward the mall exit with Anthony trailing behind her like a confused shadow.
The silence that followed was broken by Roxxane’s laughter. "Well, that was a riot. You okay, kid?" she asked, looking at Kay.
"Yeah," Kay breathed, looking relieved. "Thanks, Ethan. Seriously."
"Anytime, *amor*," Ethan said, finally letting go of Scout’s arm, though he stayed close. "Now, I believe we were promised an arcade visit? Jeremy, you’re coming too. I won't take no for an answer."
The next hour was a surreal blur. They went to the mall’s neon-lit arcade. Kay, Aline, and Roxxane drifted toward the rhythm games, leaving Scout and Ethan standing by a row of vintage fighting cabinets.
Scout was still vibrating with nervous energy. He kept stealing glances at Ethan’s legs, then looking away, his throat dry.
"Hey," Scout said, his voice cracking. "Back there... at the coffee place."
"Mmhmm?" Ethan was leaning against a machine, watching the lights reflect in his rings.
"You... you said 'this one's mine.' You called me yours." Scout looked at his shoes, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Ethan turned his head, a playful, ironic smile tugging at his lips. "It was a tactical maneuver, Jeremy. The most effective way to neutralize a hostile target like that is to claim the objective. It made her go away, didn't it?"
"Oh. Yeah. Right. Tactical," Scout muttered. He felt a pang of disappointment, followed by a surge of reckless bravery. "I mean... I liked it. A little. You know. Just 'cause it shut her up."
Ethan leaned in, his eyes narrowed. "Did you now?"
"No! I mean—you’re hearing things! Shut up! Haha!" Scout laughed nervously, his hands flying up to adjust his hat. "I’m just sayin', it was a good play. Top tier."
Ethan chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made Scout’s knees weak. "You’re a terrible liar, Boston."
Suddenly, Ethan’s phone buzzed in his small clutch bag. He pulled it out, his expression shifting from playful to stunned.
"What is it?" Scout asked.
"It’s... it’s Pauling," Ethan whispered. He read the screen, a slow grin spreading across his face. "The Administrator... she found a 'clerical error.' The Silver Corp mission has been reclassified as a successful field test of 'aggressive negotiation.' I’ve been rehired."
"What?! No way!" Scout let out a whoop of pure joy. Without thinking, he lunged forward, throwing his arms around Ethan’s neck.
Ethan caught him, his strong arms wrapping around Scout’s waist, lifting him slightly off the ground. For a moment, they were just there—locked together in the neon glow of the arcade, the scent of leather and sandalwood enveloping them.
They pulled apart slowly, both of them suddenly very aware of how close they were. Ethan cleared his throat, his dark skin flushed with a hint of a blush. Scout was looking everywhere but at Ethan’s eyes, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.
"Well," Ethan said, his voice a bit husky. "I suppose I’ll see you at the base tomorrow morning. Try not to miss me too much."
He reached into his bag, pulled out a small business card with a hand-written number on the back, and pressed it into Scout’s palm.
"Call me," Ethan said, his voice dropping back into that dangerous, sweet purr. "Whenever you want to talk. Or... whatever."
He winked, then turned on his heel, joining his friends as they headed for the parking lot. Scout stood there, frozen, watching the sway of Ethan’s hips and the flash of pink hair until they disappeared through the glass doors.
He looked down at the card in his hand. His heart was racing, his skin still tingling where Ethan had touched him. He felt giddy, like he’d just won the World Series.
Then, the realization hit him like a freight train.
He liked him. He liked the Hacker. He liked the man with the pink hair and the leather dress who had just spent the afternoon making him feel more seen than anyone ever had.
A wave of sudden, crushing nausea rolled over him. *What is wrong with you?* he thought, his stomach twisting. *He’s a guy. You’re a guy. You’re supposed to be the tough guy from Boston. You’re supposed to like girls like Katie—even if they’re awful.*
He felt a hot, prickly sense of disgust at his own reflection in a nearby darkened screen. The joy vanished, replaced by a cold, leaden sadness. He shoved the card into his pocket and walked out into the cooling evening air, feeling more alone than he ever had in his life.