Boom…Headshot.
As promised to CrazyGirl…here is the Sniper one-shot. Enjoy everyone! Hah, I'm not going to do one-shots about them all…just my favourite characters!
Sniping's a good job, mate.
Yeah, especially if you LIKED aiming a sniper rifle at some poor sap's head.
Which he didn't.
His RED counterpart might actually enjoy his job but the BLU Sniper always found nausea bubbling in his stomach long after a kill. His last job had been fine – an agent of the Australian government dispatched to hunt down dangerous wildlife that had (or could possibly) hurt other people and get rid of them was fine. He had likened himself to a pest control service…only more extreme.
But to kill people…
Why had he even bothered with this anyway?
The answer came to him automatically, like it always did.
To make money for your mother's treatment.
He could have made enough for that with his last job – if he hadn't been made redundant from it as part of the government spending cuts years ago, that is. Ever since then, he had struggled to find and hold down a well-paid job. He hadn't done particularly well in high school, despite his greatest efforts. Nevertheless, his parents had been proud of him anyway.
And now…
What would his father say if he knew his son was contracted with BLU? If he could see the deaths he was causing? They came back from Respawn; however they were still being killed for a few minutes at a time.
He had been approached by BLU through means of a letter. How had they known of his exploits? Of his steady gun hand?
Well, at least he was getting a ton of money for his mother's treatment. She was responding well and hopefully she would survive long enough to live out her twilight years painlessly and peacefully. He absently stroked the letter she had lovingly written to him, the calm words of a widowed mother comforting her only son. As far as she knew, he was hunting for game for BLU.
It didn't mean that the 'game' wasn't human.
Sniper shifted his position from his nest in a tall turret. Most Snipers spent their battles up in nests, away from the actual battle so that they could defend their team-mates – that WAS why they were called Snipers.
Personally, he felt like a coward.
The sky matched the sleeves on his uniform today and there was barely a cloud. Sniper hoped long and hard that today he would get lucky and be left alone without having to kill someone at all. The cool dark wood by the square patch he called a window soothed his hot, aching head. Sighing, he brought his eye away from the rifle scope and lowered the weapon to the floor while rubbing at his brown eyes beneath the acid-tinted aviators and he put a gloved hand against his chin, gazing blankly at the sprawled landscape. He really wasn't a social man, not by a long shot.
Heh…long shot.
Movement caught his trained eye and his heart sank.
Oh god, not now, not today. He wanted to leave that person alive! Maybe he could shoot and miss him?
The stubble-jawed man breathed in relief when he realised it was just a rabbit, not a so-called 'enemy'. He relaxed again, watching the sunlight glint off the rabbit's fur and he played idly with his short hair. The fingerless gloves were useful; he wasn't going to deny that for a second.
"BONK!"
The loud, exhilarated shout startled the Sniper badly and the already jumpy man reacted instinctively, falling to the floor of his hideout and pressing both hands over his head. His breathing sounded so unnaturally loud! His mouth dry and heart hammering a mile a second, he pushed himself upwards, wide eyes cautiously peeking over the rim of the wooden window. A RED Scout laughed as he ran, their intelligence slotted neatly into a strap slung over his shoulder. The BLU Demoman was chasing him and swearing angrily as he slowly lost ground to the faster boy. Throwing those sticky bombs wasn't doing him much good.
Oh no…he'd have to stop him.
Forcing his breathing and shivering body to become steady, he flipped over as he grabbed his trusty sniper rifle and balanced the butt of it on his shoulder of his right arm as he brought it up.
Focus…
With a whine, he aimed the scope at the boy's head (he was slowing down to gloat…foolish kid). It would be quick and painless. Right?
Steady…
A sharp kick registered in his shoulder as he clicked the trigger, the bullet's sharp report telling him everything he needed to know; Scout died before he even hit the ground, blood pooling around his head and drooling out of the corner of his mouth. It was all so slow somehow…like time was freezing. Sniper felt like he was suffocating and ducked out of sight: he registered Demoman waving his thanks beforehand as he retrieved the Intel with a demonic grin.
He would disappear in a minute.
But Sniper would still feel sick.
And that's that. Medic and Scout will arrive soon.