*My own conscience* But don't you have Brave New Update going on? That one gives you already a lot of work.
*Me* I know but I wanted to write this, okay? It was supposed to be a long oneshot but you know how Writer me is.
*Writer me* Yes, you all know how I am. I like building super-detailed stories from original simple ideas. If it wasn't because of Lazy me, 'BLUser gonna lose' and the second chapter of Sasha would have been a reality by now.
*Lazy me* Don't thank me. I'm only doing my job.
*Me* You did nothing!
*Lazy me* Exactly! ;D
CHAPTER 1 – The bag
Everything started with a sandwich. Or a bag of them to be precise.
Sniper was almost entering his van, after enjoying a cold Sunday's sunset, when he spotted Heavy leaving the base with a suspicious bag over his shoulder. The big guy was seemingly heading for the battlefield. That destination was suspicious by itself, but it was even more due to how he was trying to look casual while going somewhere he wasn't supposed to be going.
If it had been Scout, Demo or Soldier; Sniper would have attributed that behaviour to a prank or a dirty trap they were planning to set up for the battle of the next day. If it had been Pyro or Spy, he would have tried his best to erase that moment from his memory. Those two were involved in very distinctive business yet secretive and yet creepy from which Sniper desired to stay away as far as possible.
But this was Heavy who we were talking about. He wasn't a prankster or an aloof man. In fact, if Sniper had to confess, he didn't consider him much of anything. If he had to describe Heavy it would have been as a big dumb meat shield who loved his minigun like a daughter or that's what Sniper had believed by that time. Being fair, he hadn't had many conversations with the Russian since the team had been assembled a few months ago and he wasn't particularly looking forward to having more.
However, regardless of all of that, the question remained:
What was Heavy planning to do?
Sniper should have gotten inside of his camper and forgotten about the whole deal. Following the big guy under the moonlight wasn't going to be particularly pleasant. Two weeks ago they had changed bases for the incoming winter season and this new location was way colder than what the Australian could easily to tolerate, particularly at night.
Nonetheless, Sniper was curious to know. It had been a boring weekend and this was the only interesting event that had happened so far. So postponing dinner for a later hour, he grabbed his rifle and a pair of gloves and trailed Heavy's footprints into the shyly snowed battleground. He made sure to walk over them to leave as little proof as possible of their new shared infringement. Nor that he thought Heavy would notice but you never could be too cautious with two Spies living in the proximities.
Sniper was glad that some of the tips he had learnt about hunting in sandy environments could be also applied to snowy ones. There was less than one inch of snow and he already hated this cold solid aberrational form of water. If he wanted to keep up his performance, he would have to force himself to quickly adapt to this climate before the real winter caught him unprepared. He wasn't going to let himself become less than an astounding sharpshooter, no matter how much self-sacrifice and determination it took to get used to this soon-to-become icy hell.
At the first opportunity he got, Sniper deviated from the path Heavy had left behind and climbed to one of his nest to oversee the mountain of a man through the scope of his rifle. Despite the last rays of sun being almost gone, it took him little time to spot the Russian. Heavy was a massive man. He hadn't been built for stealth.
From the concealment and eagle eye of his snipping spot, Sniper watched how the big guy strode through the battleground with a strange confidence in his gait, as if he was more familiarized with the layout of the area than what the Australian had expected.
The first time Heavy stopped and examined his surroundings, Sniper snorted, believing that the bald simpleton had finally realized that he had no idea where he was. Although, when Heavy pulled out a small bundle from his bag and hide it inside of a bush, in the corner of a building, the Australian started doubting his previous assumption. As the big guy repeated that process a couple of more times on different crannies of the map, Sniper began seriously wondering what Heavy was really up to.
A inquisitive frown prevailed on marksman's face until, by virtue of an unusual good angle and the subtle illumination of an emergency light, he realized that what the Russian was actually hiding were sandwiches.
An involuntary laugh escaped his throat. He immediately covered his mouth afterwards.
Heavy was stashing snacks for when he got hungry during battle!
Sniper avoided face-palming himself at considering, even if had been just for a second, that the fat man had been concocting some kind of elaborated devious plan.
THIS WAS HEAVY WE WERE TALKING ABOUT!
He chuckled again.
However, as he continued observing him, Sniper noticed a pattern. Heavy wasn't tucking away the sandwiches haphazardly. They were all placed in strategic locations. The sandwiches were being hidden in intermediate areas where no medkit was at close range and there was always an infrastructure nearby where to take cover while eating it. It seemed like the big guy had consciously thought out in advance where he wanted to plant them.
Could those be special healing sandwiches?
Sniper frowned again.
Was Heavy cleverer than he had previously assessed?
It was true that the Russian had a talent for war. As their sharpshooter, Sniper had been able to study his teammates during battle better than anyone. By this point in their contract, he almost knew by heart each one of their fighting styles and while Heavy usually displayed an incredible bloodlust and enthusiasm during his slaughters; he wasn't as reckless as Soldier or as self-absorbed as Scout. In fact, the big guy always seemed to know the right moment to retreat or to push forwards.
Until now, Sniper had attributed that behaviour to a survival instinct, something intrinsic on the Russian that didn't have anything to do with his conscious thoughts, but what Heavy was doing today was clearly premeditated.
Perhaps, the fat man hadn't come up with this idea by himself. Perhaps, Medic had suggested it to him and he was doing the dirty work for both of them. That was a very reasonable possibility but without a map on Heavy's hands, that meant he still had a decently better memory and orientation than what the marksman considered average.
Had Sniper underestimated him?
For a good half an hour, the Australian followed, with the scope of his rifle, Heavy's clandestine expedition through the battlefield. Once the mountain of a man seemed to run out of sandwiches and began returning to the base, Sniper gave him some minutes of head start before also walking back to his camper.
In his way back, the Australian pondered about if this little outing had been worth it or not. His fingers were already partially numb and he was trying his best not to shiver, but what he had discovered that night had given him a new perspective about Heavy's psyche. Becoming too confident about one's beliefs was never wise so some self-doubt about your own misconceptions was always advisable to keep yourself sharp and alert. He had learnt that in the Outback. The overconfident and cocky hunters didn't last long.
How much did he really know about his teammates? How sure could he be that what he thought to be true was, indeed, true? Sniper had kept his distance from them, interacting the minimal possible since they had become a team, but as his profession painfully stated, distance didn't mean safety. He had observed them for hours but that wasn't a direct equivalent of knowing them. Perhaps, all what he thought to believe couldn't be applied to them outside of the battlefield.
The Australian rubbed his face.
At least, he had gotten something clear from this experience.
He needed better gloves.
On Monday, Sniper caught Heavy eating one of the sandwiches he had hidden the previous day.
The big guy had turned at an intersection with Medic just to backtrack his previous steps a couple of seconds later. This time he had appeared without a doctor, covered in blood and clutching his right side as he dragged a spinning Sasha back with him. He was lucky to take cover at the same precise second that the enemy Soldier launched a corner-peek rocket from the same direction he had fled.
While keeping balanced with one hand his minigun in automatic shooting mode, Heavy reached for his secret sandwich with the other and literally gobbled down the snack in a single swallow. As the freshly produced bolus glided down his Adam's apple, Heavy's wounds magically healed and the Russian grinned sinisterly at feeling the pain disappear.
Sniper gave himself a moment to acknowledge his initial suspicions. Those weren't ordinary sandwiches. Those were healing sandwiches. Very ingenious, Heavy. Very, very ingenious.
Following next, the Australian matched Heavy's smile and headshot the Pyro, who had tried to flank the big guy while he was distracted keeping the Soldier at bay.
If Heavy noticed the BLU firebug collapsing just a dozen steps from his position, he didn't give any sign of it. Instead, he stood up and rushed towards the Soldier's corner with his firing minigun and a very peculiar war cry:
"I am full of sandvich, and I am coming for you!"
Through the magnification of his scope, Sniper could admire, just for the fraction of a second, how, after peeking from his shelter again, the lips of the BLU American became a tense thin line at finding out that the mountain of a man had cut the distance that separated them already in a half. Not only that, Heavy was also charging forwards completely healed from the wounds he had inflicted him a couple of minutes ago and was smiling like a lunatic.
The Soldier didn't give Sniper another opportunity to try to headshot him. The marksman deduced that the BLU had rocket-jumped away before Heavy and his bullets could catch up with him, because when the big guy finally got to his corner, he pouted in disappointment and yelled at the sky:
"Don't run! It's just haaam!"
Sniper chuckled. For a man who wasn't as stupid as he sounded, Heavy sounded rather stupid.
Or perhaps, it was just his way of being humorous.