I'm gonna kill her. She could've just walked away, but instead, she joined the bloody war! Of all the stupid, irresponsible… impulsive… I'll tell the Administrator that this war isn't for her. Yeah, cause that'll work. The RED's Sniper paced back and forth in the dining room as he awaited the arrival of Schrodinger. The other Mercs watched in confusion at the show he was putting on. Everytime he thought of an idea, he'd bite the side of his index finger, then dismiss it.
"Hey, uh, you've been acting weird since Tuesday. Something up, Snipes?"
"Nah, mate, Oi'm just thinkin'." He bit his lip. What if she'd befriended the other team? What if they abused her? What if she forgot about me? He ruffled through his hair and let out a frustrated growl.
::
"Care for a smoke, mon ami?"
"Thanks, spook." Spy reeled back. This was completely out of character for Sniper. He hates cigarettes! He calls them 'cancer sticks' and avoids them at all costs. He leaned in closer to inspect Sniper.
"Wot?" Spy narrowed his eyes, trying to identify what was haunting this man. He even went as far as to smell the filthy jarman. He must've showered recently, his body smelled decent. Though I'll never admit that.::
"Get away from me, ya mongrel!" Sniper spat the cigarette onto the ground before he even had the chance to smoke it. He stormed out of the dining room, restless and aggravated. It's already midnight, what's taking Miss Pauling so long?::
"You all packed and ready to go?" Miss Pauling shivered in the night air, but motioned me to the vehicle with one swift flick of her arm. I sat in the passenger seat and secured the hood around my face, making sure I wouldn't be visible when we arrived. I love seeing the surprised expressions. I let out a giggle as Miss Pauling started the car.
"You excited, Schrodinger?"
"Yup, I can't wait to see Snipes again!" Her face was filled with shock.
"You're excited to see him? He's the most brutal person on that entire team! I'd stay away from him, if I was you. I witnessed him gutting a Spy once, then smile into the camera! The guy's a psycho."
"I don't think he is."
I took out the envelope from my pocket and unfolded it. It's from Scout? I tore through the paper to see what was in store for me. I held a small drawing of a castle in the clouds, the sun setting on the horizon and a bucket of chicken in front of the drawbridge. There was something written in chicken scratch on the back. 'I can't wait for our baseball game, Schro. Just ta let ya know, we ARE going for fried chicken after it.'
Cheeky stringbean.
Heh, looks to me like you got exactly what you asked for.
I suppose. That reminds me, Eli, are you in control today?
Sure! But I'm going to avoid killing, if you don't mind.
That's fine, that just means you gotta capture the Intel without killing or getting killed.
She's most definitely going to get us killed today. Can't wait to find out what Respawn is like.
Not very supportive, are you, Drake?
Not at all. I'd rather be in charge today instead of tomorrow.
Why's that?
Cause I want to see just how vicious this RED Sniper is…
You saw him before! He was a marshmellow!
That could've been an act.
So could his ferocity on the field.
… A psychopath is a psychopath on and off the field. He can choose what he shows others off the field. The lust for blood causes him to show his true colors on the field. It's the same for me.
A long pause as my thoughts went silent. I glanced over at Miss Pauling, who had been writing something down on a clipboard while driving.
"How big is the Neutral base?"
"Big enough for both teams and you to fit in. The construction workers insisted that they could complete the project before you moved in. I thought it was a bit overkill, but they wouldn't listen!" She sighed. Her hair was all frizzy, her eyes were baggy and she'd rub her face every couple of minutes, as if trying to force herself to stay focused on the road. She hasn't slept in days. Poor lackey, never being given a break.
"I can drive, you know." She glanced over at me, gave me the once over, then turned back towards the road.
"You're too young, Schrodinger." I rolled my eyes and stared out the window, for lack of any other way to combat this woman's ignorance. If I told her that I was actually older than she previously thought, she'd complain that I should've told her sooner, because then she'd look like an idiot for treating me like a kid when I was an adult. But if I continued this charade, I'd have to allow myself to be put into this undignified persona. That is, until Drake takes the reins. Poor Miss Pauling. I doubt she'd be mentally prepared for that. Adding lack of sleep to the list, no. She's doomed.
I opened a portal and grabbed out a book, The Great Gatsby. Hm, don't mind if I have a little light reading before I make my grand entrance. Funny, this book smells like cigarette smoke. It's also got some sort of oil on it, like that oil the BLU Spy used to keep his gloves smooth and unfrayed… The RED Spy doesn't like reading, does he? A bead of sweat formed on my brow. I leaned over to the radio and raised the volume. The song playing was 'Runnin' by Adam Lambert. (All rights go to him and the appropriate record company. Feel free to listen to it while reading this.) The song really cut into me, I couldn't help but feel that it was riddled with emotion.
As I flipped through the pages of The Great Gatsby, I noticed some of the more powerful quotes were underlined. A literature fanatic. How amusing, considering we're in the middle of a war-zone. But I suppose everyone has their own way of escaping reality. If only for a moment, the risk of getting caught up in a book is sometimes worth it. Honestly, I find movies more entertaining when it comes to action or adventure, but when it comes to horror, books surpass movies by a long shot. The reader has most of their senses taken away from them with books, they're forced to imagine everything around them as they roam the worlds that authors stitch together. The relationship is like that of a puppet and a puppet master. But that's only with horror stories, or so I've found. Not that other books can't be written with the same formatting in mind.
I opened the back cover of the book to find a lengthy number of people have written in their own 'American Dreams'. One by one, they all mentioned the thing that would make them most happy in life. Every one of them wanted to become rich and famous, to find someone to settle down with or to have a nice, happy family. I guess not a whole lot has changed from the '20's to now. Everyone wants to be on top of the world. And they'll do anything to achieve that dream. Whether it's gambling, stealing, killing, cheating. You name it, they'll do it.
The only thing that bothers me about this argument, is that Maverick and the rest of us were never in it for the money. We just wanted to clear the streets of Baltimore of all the crime. Although, Drake has been in it for the blood, so I guess my hands aren't completely clean.
Miss Pauling put the car in park. I popped out of my bubble to see that we were at the RED base.
"Thanks for the ride, Miss Pauly." I nodded to her and closed the door of the car. The RED base looks just as it did when I first arrived here. Nostalgic, I'm sure.::
I felt a cold chill run down my spine as I backed up the car. Someone was most definitely watching. I glanced up at the roof. The Sniper's cold glare met my sleep deprived eyes. The stare down only lasted a few seconds, but I felt my heart stop pumping. His very presence terrifies me. What does he have against me? I feel like he's stabbing daggers into my brain!
My heart went on overdrive the second he moved out of my sight. I knew he could've killed me right then and there. I knew he wanted to. I knew he'd be happy to. That's what was so terrifying about the RED Sniper. His soul resembles that of a hunter, not differentiating humans and animals. I sped away from the base, horrified that I might see his figure standing on the roof with his rifle in hand, aimed and ready to fire. But I never did.::
She's finally here. I glared down to Miss Pauling. Such a distasteful woman. She bases all of her relations on what others look like and what she's heard about them. I wouldn't mind tearing her a new one, if that wouldn't prove that she and the others were right. I turned on my heel and headed for the door that lead off of the roof. I'll give Schrodinger an earful when I get the chance. But first…
"Oi, Spook. What do ya want from me, mate?" Spy materialized next to the door, taking a drag of his cigarette and eyeing me cautiously.
"I just find it unusual for you to be so interested in a new recruit."
"I'm curious. Sue me." Spy grabbed my arm.
"Who was zhat child in your room? I saw her on Tuesday, but not since zhen." I laughed darkly and glared at him.
"You'll find out sooner or later." I shrugged off his hand as I made my way down the stairs. He followed.
"What do you mean by zhat? Ez she eating alright, or did you kill 'er?" My blood ran cold and I stopped dead in my tracks. I whirled around and grabbed Spy by the neck, hovering him above the ground. He grabbed at my arm, digging in his fingers and staring down at me, hatred and fear lining his raspy breath.
"Although Oi'm not one ta be messed with, Oi'd never hurt a child." I stared into his eyes, boring into his very consciousness. "Now leave me alone, ya bloody piker." I dropped the traumatized spook from my grasp as I hurried to meet with Schrodinger. I couldn't care less what my teammates think about me, the only opinion that matters to me is Schro's. That nickname triggered a new set of emotion to flow through my system. I can't wait to see her again.::
I sipped up the last of my milkshake. It's way easier drinking through a straw to get nutrition rather than waiting for the others to leave before I eat. Less risky, too. Many of my other team members already went to bed, grumbling that they didn't want to find out who this new recruit was, as long as they brought us a victory. I shook my head at the lack of curiosity. I went back to sharpening my fire axe, glad that the Administrator allowed a couple of weapons on base.
I heard the creaking of the base's garage door. I leaped up, setting the axe onto the table and watching the doorway with an extreme motivation to know who this new recruit was before anyone else. My fingers twitched, setting off a chain reaction to my brain. I sprinted with intent towards the garage, my heart being the only sound audible. Flare guns and rocket launchers were exploding inside my chest and reverberated memories filled my head, bouncing off my eardrums over and over again.
Can't you remove the mask, just once?
A little peek couldn't hurt, right?
What do ya say, bud?
I shook my head, tears flowing freely as I barreled into someone. They'd stepped out of the garage door while I was caught up in my thoughts. I brushed myself off before reaching to help them up. A lump caught in my throat. This is the new recruit?
"Dang, what a warm welcome!" She was giggling… Giggling! I'd just about plowed her over and she wasn't mad? I tilted my head in confusion.
"Yo, Pyro. I'm Schrodinger." She got up and patted herself off. "You alright?"
"Mpeah, mpre mpou?" Her lips curved up to the shape of a crescent moon. The teeth that lined her mouth were white, but they were sharp, some in the front were slightly chipped.
"I'm fine. I appreciate the consideration." I reeled back a bit. She actually understood me? Huh, you learn something everyday. I gestured towards the kitchen.
"Mpare mpor mph mpink?" She nodded gently as she took off her hooded cape, revealing her inferno of hair.
"You guys got milk? I find it's about the only drink I can stomach during a fight." I nodded. Her hair was beautiful, it waved with her every movement, licking her slender body, as if threatening to engulf her in flames any moment. And her eyes were piercing, even behind my mask I could see they were more profound than the others' eyes. They seemed to glow, if that's possible.
"Mpou mpike mpire?" She was about to say something when Scout intervened.
"Hey Pyro, who ya talkin-" Scout's jaw dropped when he saw Schrodinger. He studied her for a few seconds, then opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. He put his bandaged hand to his mouth as his brow furrowed.
"An odd one, isn't he?" Schrodinger asked me as she and I walked past the speechless Scout.
"Mpe'll mpind mphe mpords mpoon. Mpive mpim mpime." We both chuckled as she got the milk from the fridge and poured a glass. She sat next to me and sipped it ever-so-slowly. I noticed that I was staring and quickly turned away. This wasn't the first time I'd seen her, but her presence felt different now than it did when she was in the BLU Sniper's nest. Her personality was like that of a small candle. Before, it had been a decent fire.
"Schro! You do tha most reckless of things!" Sniper had stormed into the room, his hat tilted a little too far to the left side. "Wot were ya thinkin'? Joining a band of mercs isn't a game, ya know!" He was halfway into his rant when his rigid structure softened. He sighed and sat down next to Schrodinger, putting his hat on the table and ruffling through his hair.
"I'm... glad ta see ya didn't get hurt, Schro." A slight grin formed on his face, the first since Tuesday.
"Good to see you, too, Snipes." A small bit of giggling escaped Schrodinger's lips, resulting in Sniper to smile even wider for no reason. Really. No reason what-so-ever. I tilted my head. Confusion seems to be this woman's forte.
"So, where am I sleeping tonight?"
"Mpou mpan mpeep mph mpy mpoom."
"Or ya could sleep in mine." Sniper's eyes were trained on me now. He was challenging me, a determined glint shown for a second before Schrodinger spoke up.
"First come, first serve! Looks like I'm bunkin' with you tonight, Pyro." I really did cherish that smile of hers. It warmed my heart faster than any of my fires had before. She stretched and yawned, not knowing that both of us were the most brutal members on the entire team, save for Medic. Either that or she did know, and was completely cool with that fact.::
I finished my glass of milk and washed the cup in the sink before turning to my team mates.
"You guys like danishes? I could make them for breakfast tomorrow." Sniper shook his head.
"Ya don't have ta treat us like royalty, Schro. What you need right now is sleep." He nudged Pyro to escort me to his room. Darn. I was hoping I could hang out with them a bit longer.
"Alright, I'll come quietly." I held my hands up and chuckled.
Pyro seemed to be quieter than he was before. I was a little shorter than him, but only by about 5 inches. His eyes were fixed at the end of the hallway, almost like he was refusing to look at me. Maybe he's deep in thought. I tried to picture what his room would be like. Maybe a rock and roll poster, maybe a box of candles… At this point in time, it's anyone's guess. I've only seen three rooms. Two of them were in the dark. Now that I know these people a bit more, I guess I must've been in Demoman's room and Scout's. Which reminds me: that alcohol and baseball might still be on the roof.
A wide grin spread across my face as I remembered the last time I got drunk. It was also the first, mind you. It had been during an undercover operation. One of my targets offered me some champagne. I took it hesitantly. The next thing I knew was that I was being smacked awake by Maverick as he pointed to a television screen. Apparently, someone slaughtered everyone in the bar and surrounding area before running off into the night. Luckily, no one could get a clear sketch of what the assailant looked like. After all, it was one in the morning and everyone was past drunk. Needless to say, I was banned from alcoholic beverages, but at least the targets were all killed in the meantime.
Heh, good times.
You don't even remember it, Drake.
Don't I?
Do you?
I do.
What?
There's no way.
Yet I do. I took advantage of your drunken stupor and had some fun.
You mean to say you were sober?
Not entirely. But I was aware of what I was doing. How else would the targets have been killed?
… Blind madness?
… Luck?
You two are complete imbeciles. Think for a bit, would you? The cover-up was perfectly executed. No one even suspected that the Faulkner Gang was involved.
Because you murdered more than your fair share of innocent civilians.
It was worth it getting scolded. Their blood tasted sweeter than those that were drinking in the bar.
Sick. Freaking psychopath.
I sometimes wish there was a special place in Hell for people like you. Then I remember we're a package deal.
Yup. We're probably going to roam the Earth after we die, cause neither God nor Satan is gonna know what the Hell to do with us!
Doubt it. Purgatory is my theory. Maybe the splitting of us personalities, but I doubt God would allow you to torment the inhabitants of this world even after death.
Yeah… I kinda feel bad for God. He's probably scratching his head wondering where to put us.
What a bother.
Pyro's room was messy, drawings and stuffed animals were scattered everywhere. I opened a portal while he was tidying up, grabbing out a hammock and pretending I'd gotten it out from under my shirt. Pyro watched me as I set it up, offering to help at one point, but then continued cleaning his room.
"You always sleep in your suit?" The question must've startled him, he dropped several of his drawings.
"Mph mpually mpeep mpn mpy mpoxers. Mpou mpind?" I blushed and jumped into my hammock.
"Goodnight, Pyro." I covered my face with the pillow as I heard him walking towards me.
"Mph mprust mpou." He was taking off his mask as I buried my face deeper into the pillow.
"No. I'm terrible with secrets!" The pillow was lifted and I shut my eyes tight.
"I trust you. I can't tell why yet, but I know you won't tell anyone about me. Open your eyes, please?" His voice was sweet, like mine. It had the air of a child trying to convince a friend to go with him to the ice cream parlor. I sighed as I opened my left eye.
His face had more color than mine, but still pale. His hair was short and brown, like an auburn. It was curly and hung low near his blue eyes. That seems to be a common trait. Blue eyes. I guess my eyes really do stand out. The right side of his face was scarred with burn marks. It didn't look terrible, but I could tell Pyro was ashamed of it the way he was wringing his hands.
"You don't think I'm ugly, do you?"
"Why would I?
"Cause of this!" He pointed to the burn marks. I blinked and tilted my head like he does.
"That makes no sense. The more you get to know me, the more you'll find that I don't judge by looks. What I see is a man whose trust was broken in the past, and now he feels as though everyone is cruel to those who are different. But I also see a man who is outgoing and curious. His soul burns with more passion than the flames he spreads." He was tearing up at my words. I felt big arms grab me from the hammock as he squeezed the life out of my poor body.
"Thank you, Schro..." Large droplets fell onto my shoulder. I had to smile. Such a teddybear.
"I gotta go to bed, man. Geez, you're like a little puppy." We both giggled as he let go. I climbed back up into the hammock, nearly flipping it.
"Hey, Schro?"
"Yeah?" I asked as he turned out the light.
"Can you hang out with me on the battlefield tomorrow?"
"Sure thing. I got nothing else planned. G'night, Pyro."
Author's Note: Aww, looks like Snipes has finally accepted his overprotective side. Anyways, I arrived at the base with relatively no problems, but it seems like the BLU team is having troubles sleeping. Poor guys. I genuinely wonder if Schrodinger is effecting their state of mind?
"Aye, Author! Ya come from Ireland, don't ya?"
"If I were to answer that, how would you react?"
"I don't rightly know fer sure, but if yer from that sad excuse of a country-"
"Sad excuse?! Demo, let me warn you right now that you do NOT want to get me angry."
"Only kidding, wee lassie! Ye want a bit of me Scrumpy?"
"... I'll pass, but thanks for the offer."
I never realized how much these teams are different. Anyways, the next upload will be soon, I promise. Then again, maybe I'm just saying that to keep you guessing…