There was not a breeze of wind in the Outback. Barely a movement on the desert sand. The Sniper looked down the scope of his rifle, surveyed his target. A shame they'd have to lose their life like this, but Sniper didn't care. He'd been killing for years, just part of the job. This poor sucker was another nameless, faceless victim to add to his list of confirmed kills. It used to bring the Sniper joy to make holes in peoples' heads, but those years were long past. He did it now not because he wanted to, but because he needed to survive. He pulled the trigger. His target went down. Sniper sighed, no sense of satisfaction from the kill, only pity for his victim. He stood up from his crouched position, walked for several minutes to his target that he'd shot from a mile away, and picked it up by its tail. "Kangaroo again," he sighed, "bloody hell."
He dragged the marsupial's carcass back to his trailer several miles away, thinking back on his mercenary days of years past. I was the best marksman around, he thought to himself, nobody fucked with me. I had my team's back, and they had mine. Hell, I worked with them long enough to call them my friends. Even if they were some bloody Bostonian, a pyromaniac, a fake war veteran, a mad scientist, a fat Russian, a drunk Scotsman, a psycotic surgeon, and a backstabbing French fuck, they were still my mates.
Sniper looked back on these fond memories as he came upon his trailer. As the sun set behind him, it became easier for him to see the artificial source of light next to his trailer. That light belonged to the lighter, which was in the process of lighting a cigarette, which was being held by a man in a suit and ski mask.
"Bonjour, my old friend."
"Piss off, you tosser. The hell are you doing at my trailer? How did you even find me?"
"I am a spy, it is my job to gazer intelligence. It's nice to see you too, how have you been?"
Sniper dropped his game and pulled an MP-40 from its holster. "You've no business with me, you know I gave up that life of killing a long time ago."
Spy flicked his cigarette to the ground. "You have no right to judge us like zat. We were comrades in arms, trotting the globe for money and... well, just money actually. But you abandoned us. You abandoned me."
"I abandoned you, after you abandoned me for Scout's mum!"
"That was a mistake and you know I have to live with that for ze rest of my life, so don't get all high and mighty on me, you Australian piece of ass!"
"Fuck you, you frog leg eating fucker!"
Spy pulled out his Ambassador revolver, but Sniper threw his MP-40 at Spy to knock it out of his hand. Sniper followed this up by unsheathing his kukri, and slashed at Spy's neck. Spy managed to deflect this with the blade of his balisong. The two warriors locked blades, and even more intensely locked onto each others stare. After several intense moments of locking blades, they slowly locked lips. After several more frustrating minutes, they released from their embrace, the Sniper gasping for air, despite not wanting to let go so easily.
"Your breath tastes smokier than I remember."
"You can get another taste of it later if you play nice."
"So, why are you here anyway?"
. . . . .
Sniper took a long sip of his drink. He was completely stunned at what Spy had told him. He hadn't even realized he'd actually been drinking his jarate, he was just so blown away at the proposition Spy's employers had given him.
"You really want me to kill Bowser. THE Bowser. The president. The president of the Mushroom Kingdom. Damn. And I thought Pyro was crazy."
"You know what's crazier? Ze amount of money zey will pay me and ze others of it is a successful hit. Zat is why I asked them to let me come for you, because I know you are ze one for ze job."
Sniper was unsure of what to do. He needed the money, it would surely secure a better future for himself than living in a deadbeat trailer for another 30 years. But he'd been done with killing human beings for a while. Granted, Bowser was technically a giant turtle dragon monster, but it was the principle that still applied to the situation.
"I understand if zis job makes you uncomfortable, Sniper," Spy lit himself a cigarette, "but if it's not being done for yourself, then have it be done for me."
Sniper stared at the floor for several seconds, before shutting his eyes and saying, "fine, I'll take the job up. You wanker." He smiled a little as he said this.
The two men clinked their drinks together as they colluded their villainous plan.
. . . . .
L continued examining the note given to him by Kakashi. What was "UMI"? As he pondered this, he heard a knock at the door.
"What is it? I am very busy."
L heard the door open behind him, and what sounded like squeaky cleats rubbed against the floor as a figure approached him from behind.
"Hey there pal," the young man said in a distinct Boston accent that made L spin around in shock, "I'm pretty sure you know who I am and who I've worked for, so just gimme a sec to explAGH!"
The Scout was interupted with a judo kick to the face by L. Scout backflipped away before producing his bat and pistol in both hands. As L stared intently at the merc's weapons and prepared to dodge any bullets that came his way, he was shocked to see a sight he thought he'd never see from a mercenary; Scout ejected the magazine from his pistol, popped the round in the chamber, and dropped the gun to the floor, before dropping his bat as well.
"Freakin' A, I'm trying to explain myself here and help!"
"Oh, right. I'm sure you can understand if I was a little cautious seeing a RED mercenary after seeing a few of your associates get involved with several murders over the past few weeks."
"Yeah yeah, I know all about it, and I have blood on my hands too, which is why I'm here, to explain it all to you, who we're working for, what they're planning, and why they want to do it."
L pondered this for a moment before sitting back in his seat, legs squeezed to his chest like normal.
"Tell me why I should believe you've suddenly switched sides, and maybe I'll hear you out."
Scout breather a sigh of relief, sat on the edge of the council room desk, and looked at L's curious eyes. "Okay you have a point. You need me to explain how I ended up switching back to the good guys? Well, have I got a story to tell you..."
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 8
