Please see my notes at the bottom for anything with new meat.
TF2 is not mine, I just fool around with it.
One.
The car was a rental, shiny red that had been cleaned that day. It would be filthy by the end of the day. He drove through Alice Springs without stopping and into the outback without a so much as a backwards glance. The time that was given off from the shadow companies was not so much held in high regard as it was simply held. Usually, everyone took the time to head home and see family. It could be the last time after all. The Aussie was not happy. He was far from happy to go home to his parents and attempt to give them the money to buy what they needed to live comfortably. To set up for their retirement. He was not happy when his father turned it away and spat on the red dirt near the cattle pen and looked into the distance. "Don't need yer blood money, boy."
He flicked his blinker on, even though there was no one for kilometers. He turned on the dirt road that led to his families Livestock Station. Land that his father and mother ran by themselves. They deserved to be able to pay for that land. To keep it. They were thankless though, and refused to let him help them at all.
The rental car kicked up dirt as it rattled its way down the road. He drove for a couple of hours and knew he was getting close when the cows and sheep began dotting the road next to him. The station slowly came into view. The homestead was the largest building followed by the ranch hands quarters and the barn. The silo loomed in the distance along with spots of windmills for pumping water. The airstrip was covered in sheep. His parent's Station was by far one of the smallest in the Outback with only a couple thousand acres and only a bit more than 4,000 animals. The ranch hands were only few as well, often with their wives and children if they were older. Mostly, they were young Jackaroo's fresh eyed and ready to let the sun and the Outback have all of them. His father rode with them every day and his mother cooked their meals. Making a sort of family out of the lot of them all. He had been part of that family for some time until he decided to take on the job of being an assassin. Good money that he knew he and his family could use. Money they didn't want. Refused to take.
He pulled the rental car up to the house and let the dust settle before stepping out. At least, that's what he told himself. When he did step out he took a look around the property, taking it in for the first time in a little less than a decade. Had it really been that long since he was last here?
"Can I help you?" He turned his attention to the front porch, where a young lady with dark hair was standing. She looked at him as if he had committed some great sin in the face of God himself.
"No, I know what I am doing, thank you," he told her and she frowned at him.
"You got business here, then?" she demanded and he looked up at her again over his sunglasses. This girl was probably the daughter to one of the hands. She didn't look much older than twenty-five in her long chemise dress. Her dark hair reached only her shoulders and tumbled slightly in the hot wind as she stood on the porch, leaning into the guardrail that ran around it. She was barefoot and had obviously just come from the house.
"Maybe I do," he told her as he opened the trunk of the car and leaned into it to pick up his luggage. He slung his bag onto his shoulder and picked up the case that held his gun carefully. She frowned on at him. "Get outta here, Sheila, I'm not in the mood to deal with some Jackaroo's cook. I'm here to see my parents."
The girl fumed. "I'm not married," she told him before stomping angrily back into the homestead. He watched her for a moment, wondering why she thought he should care about this piece of information concerning her marital status. He watched the door for a moment before he followed her, carefully dragging his things in with him.
"Mum! Mum, I'm home!" he shouted and within a moment a short, plump woman was poking her head from the kitchen doorway. She made a gleeful sound and walked into the foyer to greet her son.
"Oh, Bruce!" she said as she hugged the much taller man before her. He stood still with his mother's arms around him getting to know his name again. Back at the base they were each only individually known by their class. "We've missed your phone calls!" she told her boy as she stood back to look at her tall son.
"Been a bit busy at work," he told her, rubbing his neck bashfully. His mother frowned, clearly not in the mood to speak of his line of work or whatever he had been doing at it. "Where's dad?" He decided to change the subject.
"Out musterin' some cattle about five clicks out that way. Gotta put them in the long paddock," she pointed to the south and her son turned to look. "Oh, Paige," she said suddenly as the girl in chemise dress came into the foyer. He turned to look at her. "You remember my son Bruce, don't you?"
"How could I forget," she said and he narrowed his eyes at the girl before him. Her beauty was diminished by the disdainful look that she continued to bestow upon him. He felt like he should have known that look from somewhere.
"Where are your manners? Take those damn sunglasses and that hat off in my house, boy," his mother said and he followed her orders, carefully removing the articles and following his mother into the kitchen where meat was being cooked and a few vegetables were being chopped. It was dinner for everyone being prepared. He had missed the smell of his mother's food. Not that the Medics domestics weren't appreciated it just wasn't home.
"I'll just move my things into my old room, then?" he said finally tearing his attention from the food. His mother told him to be quick about it and to go out and help his father with the cattle and sheep. He once again did as he was told and moved his things to the bedroom he had occupied until he was twenty-six years old. He dropped his bag onto the bed and then took a seat next to it. He looked around the room at photos and posters.
Looked at dust and dirt.
This was the worst idea he'd ever had.
The heat was palpable as Bruce climbed onto the horse. September in Australia was terrible and he'd forgotten that. He had become so used to the mild autumn of America. Paige was standing on the porch again, her white dress the only thing he could see from the barn. He turned his horse and she turned as well, walking into the house. He watched her dress disappear into the house.
The screen door slammed and echoed across the station. A sound he'd heard before.
The horse moved him quickly to the long paddock where his father and six other men were herding cattle. He trotted up to the other Jackaroo's that sat joking and laughing with his father.
When his dad saw him he spit onto the ground.
"Get tired of killing people, boy?"
"Can't get tired of killing people that need to be killed," he said and his father spit again.
"What you doin' back here in the never never?" one of the Jackaroos asked, hands resting one on the other on his saddle. He was tan and lean like the others, older though. He was Jack, his father's closest friend and best ranch hand. They were in the war together.
"Got to make sure it's still here, Jack," he told him and smirked as the older Jackaroo laughed. One of the other Jackaroos leaned forward and offered him a cigarette. He accepted it and lit it from a lighter in his pocket. He took a drag and puffed out the smoke into the already heavy air.
"What you doing out here anyway?" his father asked and he looked at him over his sunglasses.
"Mum said you needed help."
"We got it under control, boy," his father said gruffly and he thought about turning his horse around and riding back to the homestead but ignored his father instead. He turned to Jack.
"Who's that wild Sheila in the house? She seemed ready to have a blue with anyone who walked into that homestead," he took another drag from his cigarette and adjusted his weight on the horse. Jack gave a laugh and slapped his leg.
"Don't remember that girl, do you? She was only about nineteen when you left home. She remembers you boy," Jack laughed and stubbed his cigarette out by knocking off the cherry and smothering the end with his fingertip. He smirked. "She remembers you."
"She's a bitch," another Jackaroo said. "Tried to get a date outta her only got a row."
"Well, maybe you should be a bit more polite, Richard," Jack told the boy that was next to him.
Bruce looked at the man Jack was speaking to, Richard.
"Paige doesn't want polite, she wants rough. That's why she's always looking for a fight. She wants a-"
Bruce cut Richard short, "-Dick?"
The other Jackaroos sniggered at the man and he even saw his father smirk a bit at the joke. "Isn't that right, Dick?" he asked and smirked at the other man, looking at him over his sunglasses.
"Rack off, Bruce," Richard snarled. "You haven't even been 'round to know anything. You left her here with everything else to go be a fancy gunman."
"What? Paige? She isn't anything of mine," he told Richard and turned his horse. "And she isn't anything of yours. So, if I were you, mate, I wouldn't act like such a show pony about it. Maybe you should be a bit more professional," He looked at his father and nodded. "I'll be back at the homestead if you do end up needing me for any musterin'."
His father nodded, but didn't look him in the eye and he galloped away.
Paige was in the kitchen laughing with his mother. He stood outside the door peering though a crack at the women. They were peeling potatoes together over a bucket and dropping the peelings in as they worked. Fruits and vegetables were sparse on the stations and so he knew the meal would be good with the addition of the spuds. It was probably because he was home that she would drag them from the root cellar to cook them. If he hadn't shown up then everything would have been the same. The food that week would have been mostly protein and nothing else. He wanted to enter the kitchen, offer to help. He didn't fit in here either.
His fingers paused to push the kitchen door open a bit more when he heard Paige speak. "Mrs. Champion," she giggled and he had no idea at what and he wasn't sure if he liked that or not. Was she talking about him? Why did he suddenly feel fifteen again and why did he suddenly care? She was a bit of a dog about everything despite her physical attraction.
"All I'm saying is that maybe you shouldn't still be mad at him," his mother said to Paige as they continued to peel potatoes.
"He does look fit…"
He'd heard enough. He pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen. "Ladies," he said as smoothly as he could. "Dad didn't need me to help with the animals. He and Jack have it under control… and Richard. Who the hell is that bloke anyway?"
"Your dad hired him a few years ago. He's a good hand," his mother said and handed him the bucket of peelings.
"I beg to differ, Mrs. Champion," Paige said as she began cutting potatoes. She actually held more disdain for Richard than she did for him. Bruce beamed a little at the thought. So she didn't completely hate him for any reason. She hated all men. "He is just like all the other men I have known on this station." She shot Bruce a sideways look. He ignored her and looked at his mother instead. She was looking at him, her expression becoming that of anger. He stood there with the bucket of peelings wondering why his mother was looking at him as if he'd committed some God-awful crime.
"Boy, take those out to the heap," his mother told him. "And don't come back into this kitchen until you learn some manners. If I have to tell you to take those sunnies and that hat off in my house again I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life."
He looked at his mother and then at Paige. "I'm not that awful right?"
"Get out of the kitchen."
"Well, I'm better than that Dick fellow, right?"
She didn't say anything but simply looked at him with dark brown eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Get out, Bruce."
He left the kitchen through the back door and dumped the peelings into a compost heap and he didn't return without taking his sunglasses and hat off first.
Paige stood in the shower.
It had been over the five-minute limit. She was wasting the well water just standing there and she knew it. She knew better. The water was warm, dripping off her fingertips. Dinner had been uneventful and quiet. Very quiet. No one asked anything about how Bruce was doing. How he was feeling. How his job was. They chewed in silence. Mr. Champion had asked Paige for the saltshaker even though it was closer to Bruce. He had noticed.
She stepped out of the shower and went down the hall to her bedroom. Hers was the guest bedroom that was next to Bruce's room. She leaned against it, listening for a moment to the sounds of him moving around his room. Probably not unpacking. He wasn't here long enough. He was doing something. She could hear his shoes click audibly on the wooden bedroom floor. She backed away and went to her room, dressed and picked up a pack of cigarettes.
The heat had dissipated as the sun set, finally leaving the Outback cool and tolerable. Paige tipped her pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. It went between her lips and she checked the half empty package for a lighter. There was not one to be found.
"Hell," she cursed and turned to go back inside for the lighter when Bruce met her, slightly disheveled and not wearing his sunglasses or hat. He had also cast aside his vest and was wearing only the red shirt and jeans he had arrived in. His sock had a hole where a toe peeked out.
"Need a light?" he asked and she frowned at him.
"Yeah," she said finally and he pulled his lighter from his pocket. She leaned her body forward to accept the light. Gracefully, her curves moved with her dress, her feet arching with the movement and her hands holding her hair out of the way. He couldn't help but look at her chest. He lit his own cigarette when she pulled back.
They stood in the dark then, with only the end of their cigarettes lighting up their features.
This is something different, obviously.
This is about the Sniper, who I clearly favor above all other TF2 boys. Also, who I've decided to call Bruce because of this: B^| BURCE! :D
Anywhat, don't know how long this will be or where it is going right now other than freakin' misadventures. Ideas are welcomed? I have chapter 2 mostly written so I hope to update soonish unless I get rotten fruit thrown at me, of course.
Looking for feedback on this. If you read it. Tell me what you thought. If you looked at it tell me what you saw. If you started it and then got all WTF, mate? about it then tell me why you did and I can act accordingly.