A man was typically sitting in his tower, sipping his average coffee in his favorite white mug, which merely said, "#1 Best Sniper" which the decaffeinated coffee is undoubtedly a day old.
He has fair skin color, steel blue eye color underneath his yellow lens glasses and short chestnut hair from underneath his hat that he is wearing on top of his head.
He is wearing a no sleeved umber vest with a collar with organic coffee colored fabric at the shoulders and with two pockets at the stomach area with buttons at the top to prevent the flap down from flopping around and instantly losing items inside.
Underneath his coffee vest is a long sleeved red shirt also with a V collar and orange symbols in a shape of crossfire and the sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and a white undershirt underneath his cherry red shirt.
He is also wearing a pair of wood colored jeans with a zipper and pockets at the sides and a brown belt around his waist without a buckle and brown cowboy shoes.
On his left hand are a brown fingerless glove and a watch with a black strap.
On his back obtain a tortilla colored gun holster with one strap over his right shoulder and a pouch on his right-hand side.
He sighed as he leaned back slightly, sipping his organic coffee, that is precisely a day old from yesterday and his crew members promptly declare that is disgusting to drink after a typical day has passed and some say earnestly they liked it when brewed at the day they naturally make it.
But, he doesn't give a fuck about it; he just likes it the way he does it.
So, there he is, drinking coffee in his favorite spot in the tower, thoughtfully looking at the morning sunrise up from the visible horizon of the deserted plain, except two bases in colors of red and blue, as he glanced keenly at his watch, instantly checking the time that one of his crew members would come outside to blow fiercely his trumpet in the army camp.
Just at 4:00, the trumpet went off, and he sighed, gently pinching his nose bridge over his glasses, as he merely closes his eyes, exhaling in slight annoyance.
"Bloody wanker…" he mumbled underneath his breath in a thick Australian accent.
He stood up from his seat, which is a wooden crate that was brought into his tower, carefully picking up his standard sniper rifle that was carefully set on top of another crate, since there weren't much of any animals around the active area.
He walked over to a trap door that leads to the ladder that naturally leads him down to the dusty ground of the plain from up in the wooden tower, and he carefully opened the wooden trap door by the handle and naturally noticed the wooden ladder that leads to the ground, and he repositioned himself, so that he can go carefully down the ladder face first, instead of backwards.
So, he slowly and cautiously walked down the slightly creaky made of wood stairs and when he instantly got to carefully close the landscaped ground, he had hopped nimbly off the wooden ladder and landed on the earth feet first.
After he had hopped down on the landscaped ground, he shifted the other way around towards a red building from redwood and looks almost like a historic barn that is typically made in the middle of a humid day.
He walked directly towards the historic building until another man, ran out of the modern building, and he naturally has brown hazelnut hair, steel blue eyes, and fair skin color.
He is typically wearing a crow colored hat with one orange eared headphone on top of his hat, a pair of dog tags around his neck on a silver chain, a short-sleeved red shirt, white fabric bandages around his palms and wrist, except his fingers, brown pants that are held up with a dark belt with a silver buckle, long clean socks that reaches up to his mid-leg and black sneakers with two white stripes on the opposite sides.
"Yo!" he enthusiastically greeted him with an American accent. "Guess what happened?"
The other man furled his eyebrows in considerable confusion and asked curiously, "Wot is it?"
The second man chuckled gleefully and briefly explained, "Well, Hardhat was wakin' up from his sleep when a little man walked right by him, and he captured him! And guess what, he is a BLU Medic!"
The first man rose both of his eyebrows in slight amusement, and he merely said, sighing slight, "Alright, so, where th' 'ell is this wanker?"
The second man giggled in joyous excitement and turned back around to the modern building and walked forward, while the first man followed behind him, thinking carefully of the little guy.
As he naturally followed the second man, he leads him into a room, where modern machines were inside, and he noticed another man, kneeling down slightly, his helmet off, revealing a small buzz cut of dirty blond hair, in front of a clear jar on a narrow table.
"Zhis es unacceptable!" the first man undoubtedly heard a small voice from in front of the other man in a thick German accent.
'So they're not kiddin' about a small medic…' The first man thought to himself, feeling slightly curious about whom the medic might be, maybe accidentally mistaking the RED Medic for a BLU Medic.
At that moment, the man kneeling in front of the jar on the narrow table stood up, and he naturally turned his head slightly towards the two and smiled gently, before fully turning, instantly revealing his steel blue eyes and fair skin color.
He is traditionally wearing an orange hard helmet, red undershirt with an orange wrench symbol on the sides of his forearms, brown overalls with a pocket in the front of the chest, a belt around his waist with varieties of pouches, except one on his right-hand side of his side with a flap and contained inside is a brown furred teddy bear with the same clothing as him, and a small black one on the left-hand side of his belt.
On his knee joints are naturally orange knee pads and flaxen colored combat boots.
"Hello, guys," he replied politely, his gentle voice thick a thick Texan accent, but humble and gentle as any other people would. "What brought you two here?"
The first guy chuckled softly and replied eagerly, "Sniper was just comin' down from his favorite spot to see da sunset over da horizon until I came out and told him what has happenin' earlier."
The man in front of them smirked and said gently, "Alright, see for yourself then."
He gently moved to his left right by the man that he greeted out on the plain and there, inside the clear jar, is undoubtedly a small man, about 6 inches tall, stuck in a jar, looking stubborn and fierce, but also hints of genuine fear in his fierce eyes.
He has fair skin color, steel blue eye color, and jet black short hair.
The tiny man is typically wearing a sapphire colored long doctor coat at reaches down to his ankles, with three buttons on the left-hand side of his chest, and yellow symbols in a familiar shape of a cross and a white undershirt and a blue tie underneath his coat.
He is also wearing a pair of glasses, Aegean colored shoved pants into his black foreleg combat boots.
On his back is unanimously a modern machine with blue hydrogen-like a standard bottle on the left side of the machine, and the main machine was white as the recognizable symbol is blue and a black hose with a modern machine at the end of the hose right on the right-hand side.
He naturally has his palms on the side of the jar, looking fiercely at the Sniper with a threatening glare, but also with bits of fear inside his fierce eyes.
At first, he felt dominated that the hard helmeted man instantly caught the little medic, but, the oddest thing that he felt, is undoubtedly worriment.
He carefully ignored the odd genuine feeling and looked keenly at the man with the hard hat on.
"Where did you find him for real this time, instead of Scout's side of th' story?" the Sniper politely asked.
The man chuckled and answered, "Well, I was wakin' up from mah slumber, thanks to Solly, and this little guy," he paused, carefully placing a gloved hand on the top of the clear jar, startling the small medic inside. "Came along the way, lookin' lost. So, I caught him on the spot, in th' jar."
The Sniper hmmed for a moment, his direct gaze hasn't glanced away from the slightly terrified stricken medic in the jar.
The man with the hard hat instantly noticed his direct gaze and smirked, before moving his gentle hand over the top to the side and carefully picked up the jar from the table, with the terrified medic inside, as he quietly squeaked like a mouse as the jar was picked up, moving suddenly.
Then, he walked over to the Sniper and willingly gave him the jar.
"Since you've been so attached to him, Ah was wonderin' you should have him," he replied thoughtfully.
The Sniper looked dumbfounded, as the man with the hard hat willingly gave him the jar, as he holds the jar in his palms, both of them instead of one hand.
"M-Me? Why Truckie?" he stammered, as he carefully held the clear jar in his hands.
"Oh, since you've been the most targeted man than me, so, havin' a medic at your side can really give you help in many ways." the man with the hard hat added thoughtfully. "Anyways, best if you could jus' leave me here with mah machines, so that Ah can work on them."
He gently pushed the Sniper out of his room, while he was carefully carrying the jar in his gentle hands, looking confused, until he was fully out of the room, and he gently closes the door behind the Sniper's back, wisely leaving him staring at the hallway's wall, in bewildering confusion.
He snapped out of his confusion daze and instantly noticed he was gazing stupidly at the wall, so, he glanced keenly at the jar in his hands, looking at the terrified medic in his hands, in the jar.
The Sniper felt the same feeling inside him again, but, the strangest thing is that he felt, a peculiar tender feeling in his heart.
Nothing but, he merely ignored the odd feeling and sighed wearily, before shoving the jar into his vest pocket on his front, with the jar poking from the top a bit, before he closed the flap over the jar, closing the flap.
He walked over to his van, where it is parked, and he cautiously opened the door to his van and went into the van and gently closed the door behind his back.
After he had carefully closed the door behind his back, he walked over to a counter and carefully pulled out the jar from his vest pocket and instantly noticed that the medic inside looked a little faint.
He was leaning cautiously against the slick wall of the jar, looking pale, and he was breathing slowly and weakly.
'I gotta give him air before he passes out…' He instantly thought to himself.
He unscrewed the removable lid to the jar and the medic inside felt a gentle wave of breathable air hits him, and he gasped as he coughed.
After he had opened the lid, he looked keenly at the lid and undoubtedly noticed that there were no air holes for him to breathe properly.
'Looks like Truckie hasn't given th' lid holes yet.' He thought carefully to himself.
Then, he undoubtedly heard soft grunting and glanced back at the jar and merely noticed that the small medic inside was trying to jump out of the jar, by desperately trying to frantically grab the exposed ridge of the jar.
The Sniper softly chuckled, and he merely replied, "There's no other way out, but, through me, instead."
The medic glared at him with an icy glare and replied, angrily, "Ef jou vould be so kindly to let me be free und let me back on my team?!"
The RED Sniper chuckled again, as he reached down over to the toolbox that he typically has and gently pulled out a mechanical screwdriver and the small medic inside the jar looked pale as he saw the mechanical screwdriver out of the toolbox.
Imagining himself used as an experiment to see what could work better.
Instead of getting pulled out of the jar and pinned to the counter, the Sniper instead walked over to a different side of the counter, carrying the lid with him.
At that moment, he set the lid down on a different counter, top up and started to screw in tiny holes at the top of the removable lid, so that the small medic inside the jar could breathe.
After he had screwed narrow holes on top of the lid, he picked the jar back up and the medic inside looked tired from all the jumping and determination.
He chuckled again and screwed the lid back on, and the medic groaned in mild annoyance.
"I told ya that there's no way out," he replied, as he carefully placed the jar back on the counter.
"I'll find a vay out, zhank jou very much," he growled fiercely at the Sniper.
The Sniper softly chuckled again and replied, "I would love to see that, wanker."
So, without a reasonable doubt, the little Medic kept trying and typically trying to get out of the jar, even when he is trying to ÜberCharge himself with his modern machine, which oddly defaulted instantly.
'Huh, he's stubborner than a mule…' the Sniper thought to himself, as he watched carefully as the small Medic tried multiple times to get out of the jar, even trying to tip the jar over to its side.
Soon, he got tired and collapsed on the bottom of the jar, panting and sweating beads of sweat.
"I told ya," he spoke, after a whole hour of watching him stubbornly trying to get the jar's lid. "Bit of a work out you've done, though."
The small Medic groaned again in mild annoyance as he kicked the jar's side and the Sniper chuckled.
He carefully picked up the jar again and the small Medic inside, went back first against the jar's wall behind him and the Sniper picked up the jar up to his sly face.
"Now then, why don't we get some shut-eye instead?" he replied mischievously.
The small Medic glared fiercely at him for a while until he growled fiercely, "Fine. But, et doesn't mean zhat jou use me for no good reason!"
The Sniper chuckled one last time, before setting the jar back down on the counter.
After he had set the jar back down on the counter, he walked over to his decent bed and took off his boots, pants, typically revealing his brown boxers, and his hat, glasses, and vest.
The BLU Medic's cheeks instantly went red at the time he saw the RED Sniper's smooth skin, and back.
After he had taken off his clothing, all except his boxers and red shirt, and he walked over to his bed and crawled into his bed, as the covers were off, and he gently pulled the removable covers over his body and carefully placed his head down on his pillow, before blinking slowly and fell asleep in his luxurious bed.
As for the Medic, he only sighed in mild irritation, watching him fall asleep in his bed, and he gently pinched his nose bridge over his glasses, merely closing his eyes, as he was slightly shaking his head in dismay.
"Was für ein Idiot…" he mumbled in fluent German.
He carefully opened his eyes again, to look at the Sniper and could believe how peacefully he merely watched as he slept comfortably.
His cheeks were splashed with hints of pink, again, before shaking his head from side to side.
'Jou're being an idiot! Jou doesn't love him! Jou hate him! Now,' he thought bitterly to himself, before looking up at the removable top of the jar. 'Let's see ef I can find a vay out before somezhing vorse happens to me…'