One could easily forgive the RED team for their suspicion and concern that evening, as the Sniper was not acting himself. He was more detached and quiet than usual; one might even say he seemed depressed. The Pyro finally decided to check that this wasn't really the enemy Spy listening in on them, blasting her teammate with a puff of compressed air. Surprised, Mick grabbed his hat to keep it from falling off.
"Hey, what was that about?" he asked, readjusting the hat.
"Huddah," the muffled voice replied.
"Yeah, apology accepted," the Sniper said, returning to his silent apathy. He ignored the fact that some of his allies were staring at him. He was too deep in thought to pay them much attention.
The Scout finally asked, "Yo, Sniper… You okay, man?"
The Australian stood up and didn't even look at the boy as he answered unconvincingly: "…Yeah. No worries." He left without another word, and the rest of the team, understanding that it was none of their business, took the hint.
All except the Pyro. After a moment, she followed him to the bunker. She stopped and checked that nobody else had come up behind her, then took off the gas mask so she could talk some sense into her friend. He was sitting on a box, looking down at the floor. It was getting dark now, but the moonlight filtered in through the blinds and boards, painting the bunker with silver streaks.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Mick replied, not even turning to look at her. No surprise there.
"You're lying," she observed. It was fairly obvious that he wasn't even trying to be convincing. "You've listened to my problems, Mick. Now let me listen to yours."
"BLU Spy got in here somehow," he replied, only half-answering her question.
"And?" Joan folded her arms in front of her chest.
The Sniper looked in the opposite direction. "He said some things that have been bothering me."
The woman frowned. "Why do you care what he thinks?"
"I don't. But what he said just got me thinking," Mick admitted.
"He was probably just trying to mess with your head. What did he say that's bothering you so much?" There was a very long silence, so the Pyro tried to prompt her friend to speak. "Mick. Come on, ignoring me won't make me go away."
Once again, the Sniper gave her only half an answer. "You know, my parents… don't approve of my profession. They say I'm just a 'crazed gunman'. I keep telling 'em, one's a job and the other's mental illness."
Joan looked at her friend sadly. "You're not a crazed gunman, Mick. What brought this on?"
Mick gave a quiet sigh and finally answered her question. "Well, if a man's preferred job is killing people, maybe there really is something wrong with his head, then, eh?" He glanced over at Joan when she didn't reply. "Much as I hate to say it, the Spy had a point, mate. What is the difference? Efficiency? What good does that do? Maybe Dad was right about me; maybe I am just a bloody lunatic."
Joan put her hands on her hips. "Don't listen to him! This is exactly what the Spy was trying to accomplish! He's trying to bring you down on yourself so you do more damage to yourself and your own team than you do to his! You're not a lunatic. You're not a crazed gunman! The difference is in here and here alone!" She prodded his chest with one finger. He looked up at her. "The difference is that you care, even if you try to tell yourself you don't. I know you don't like to think you have emotions, but you clearly do, and lying to yourself and the world isn't doing you any good. You care about me, don't you?" The Sniper remained silent. He did care, yes, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it, even to himself. The Pyro tried a different approach. "If the Administrator offered to double – no, triple your pay, if you would just shoot me, would you do it?"
"Of course not!" The response was automatic.
"See? You didn't even hesitate. Feelings aren't what make a crazed gunman, Mick. It's not just standards that separate a professional assassin from a rampaging madman. It's loyalty and compassion, too. You may tell yourself you'd shoot anyone for the right pay, but I know you – you wouldn't! Your compassion wouldn't let you! You would turn down a job you didn't agree with, and I know you would never betray a friend! A crazed gunman would turn on a 'friend' in a heartbeat for triple pay – but you wouldn't. In fact, I'm inclined to believe you would walk out on the Administrator if she told you to shoot me. I don't care what they say – you are a good man, Mick! Maybe a bit odd, with your own strange notion of what honor is, but the point is you have a code of honor, not just professional standards. Nobody else understands it, but you have a moral compass, and though you can deny its existence all you want, it's still there and it always will be. You're a knight with your own bizarre form of chivalry, and that's what keeps you from being a monster." Joan looked her friend in the eyes. "You have a heart, Mick."
After a moment, the Sniper smiled. "Thanks, mate."
The Pyro returned the smile. "That's what friends are for," she said. "They believe in you, when you won't believe in yourself."
