I'm back!

Sorry this took a while. I took a break from writing fic to focus on my degree, which I've now finished and got a first in, after 3 long years of trying to get good at different forms of writing. But my last year burnt me out a little, I wanted to work on my novel when I did feel like writing, and I forgot what had happened so far in all my fics. So I'm working on rereading everything to catch up, but reading my old writing makes me wanna edit it all, so I'm working on that. This fic has now been edited, and that's why it's suddenly a few thousand words longer and with fewer spelling mistakes. Nothing in the plot has changed, I've just added more detail.

But also sorry if you thought this chapter was gonna be super long because of the bigger word count.

Tino was going to destroy everyone he loved and held dear and spit on their graves, for they meant nothing to him that day. He was going to laugh as they fell, one by one, to his superior sniper skills. The snow around them would be stained red. And green. And maybe purple too. They would all beg for mercy and receive none. Yes, even Berwald, if he crossed him. No one would stand in his way and succeed.

He half-listened to the instructor, knowing full well how to play paintball. He checked his outfit, his armour vest pinching underneath his uniform. His helmet was still on the bench, for now. Berwald was standing next to him, putting on his gloves. There were a few rounds, throughout the day, with different objectives. Defending places, raiding places, all as a team. That was why everyone had planned this day out: team building. What he was most looking forward to was a hunger games where everyone was against everyone.

He was going to win that if it fucking killed him. There was no "I" in team, but there was one in sniper.

Eduard said he was too competitive, and that was why he never joined in with anything involving Tino. Especially Tino and guns and teams. He wasn't even after the prizes, just the glory of winning. Maybe there was a darker, psychological element to it, about how his dad would constantly push him to be the best at "manly" things, but Tino didn't like thinking about that. He preferred to call being so competitive it took the fun out of things for everyone just one of his "quirks".

The first event was a simple two-person team game, with the last duo standing declared the winners. Of course, he and Berwald were going to be a team. And they were going to win.

He finished getting dressed, and the instructor finished explaining the safety procedures. The group were all led out of the tent and given directions to their starting positions. Soon enough, Tino and Berwald were alone, crouched behind a bush. Uncomfortably close. Or comfortably, as long as Tino didn't pop a woody.

There were still a few minutes before the starting klaxon would sound, so he decided to familiarise himself with his surroundings. Every advantage counted here. The area looked fun, woodland made of tall, straight, evergreen trees and patches of grass. The forest floor was covered in pine needles, stretching as far as they could see. He'd have to be careful with that; the rustling of leaves could mask the sounds of approaching danger, or he and Berwald could give away their positions by constantly stepping on things. There were wooden cutouts, model castles and shallow trenches dotted about the place, thankfully creating cover for them. It looked like a fun place, all things considered. He'd have loved to have had a birthday party here as a child. Or an adult.

Nearby, there was a little dip in the ground, where a mud patch had pooled from the morning's rain. Easy to miss, but vital.

"Perfect," he muttered, discreetly pointing to it and winking at Berwald. He crawled over to the mud, scooped up a handful, and began smearing it over his face and helmet. Berwald gave him a strange look. "You want to get camouflaged, right?"

Berwald whined, shaking his head. "Messy."

"Okay, but keep your pasty head down or the light will be bouncing off it into our enemies' eyes." He crawled back behind the bush.

"Enemies? Y'mean friends 'n family?"

"Not here, not today." Tino sighed and gently, but firmly, pulled Berwald down to eye level. "Okay, listen up. Do not blow this for me. No mercy, and no making yourself a target. I know that'll be hard, but just assume you're tall enough to be visible at all times and stay down."

Berwald nodded.

"I don't give a fuck that half these people are your family. If you show any hesitation in shooting them, you're dead to me. Understood?"

Another nod. "M'scared n' horny."

"Roger that. Make me proud out there, and there might be a treat for you." He winked. "I'll roger you."

Berwald shook his head. "M'not ready. Jus' horny."

"Reading you loud and clear, my man. Your treat is now a big, fat kiss in the privacy of my room."

"Thanks." He smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Hey, don't worry about it," said Tino, feeling suddenly very tender. "We're gonna be a great team, okay?"

The klaxon sounded, and Tino pulled away.

"Showt'me," muttered Berwald.

"Showtime? You are truly the gayest man in history. This is war, Berwald, not theatre." Tino blinked. "Wow. I sounded a lot like my dad there. Sorry."

"S'okay. Kinda funny watching you get so inta this."

"Don't worry, I'll probably ruin the mood soon enough. Now, let's find Gunner before someone else gets to shoot him."

Berwald nodded, very enthusiastically. "Let's f'ck him up."

Luca and Tolli, meanwhile, were busy hiding in a trench, huddled together and praying they wouldn't be found. It wasn't the first choice of activity for either of them, but everyone else had been super excited about it. Hopefully, they'd get to shoot someone at some point. At least they'd be going for a nice drink in a warm pub afterwards, and after there'd be a bath.

The two teamed up together, because Tolli didn't want to be on a team with Vidar or Gunner, and Luca was closest to his own age. But they weren't close enough to do anything but sit in awkward silence. There were probably things they had in common, but Tolli worried he looked like a little kid to Luca, or if Luca hated small talk. He had to try, though, or things would just get even more awkward. He could try a compliment, he supposed. They tended to go down well.

"I like your hair, by the way." Tolli tried to rub some warmth into his fingers.

"Thanks," said Luca, smiling sheepishly. "I like your eyeliner."

"I like yours!"

He nodded, looking rather guilty. "Hey, can you keep a secret?"

"Sure."

Luca lifted up his mess of hair to reveal the eyeliner on his right eye wasn't as good as his left one. In fact, it was nothing short of a blotchy disaster. "I can never get the other eye right."

Tolli giggled. "I hear you. It's a weird power I have; I have to do Vidar's makeup before going out, maybe I can do yours too, if you want."

"You can be the band's official makeup artist, maybe." Luca nudged him. "And you'd get to hang out with your cousins more."

"Ew."

"Aww, don't be like that. They talk about you all the time. Gunner's super proud of you."

"Gunner has his own siblings."

"Really? Oh, yeah, I forgot."

A blast hit both men in the chest, Luca, then Tolli, with no time for them to react. Tolli tried to scream, winded, but all that came out was a whimper.

"Gotcha!" Tino allowed himself a small jump for joy, from the cover of the woods he'd been spying them from. He high-fived Berwald, then ran over to the trench, ducking down until he was safely inside.

"That hurt," Luca whined.

"Yeah, they do," said Tino, "that's why you have to try not to lose. Have either of you moved since you got here?"

Tolli shrugged. "We were just having a nice chat."

"You're not here to chat, you're here to play!" When Tino attempted to teabag them, Luca punched him in the balls. Tino doubled over with a grunt. "Yeah, I deserved that."

A second pair of shots sounded, both hitting Luca in the arm. This time, they'd come from Berwald's gun.

"What the fuck?"

"Aww, my man got all protective," Tino smiled at him warmly. "Anyway, there's gotta be some better targets round here. Ones that are more of a challenge."

"Yeah? Why don't you fuck off and find them, then." Luca rubbed his arm. "Leave us alone."

"Will do, you pair of noobs." Tino hobbled off back to Berwald, leaving Luca and Tolli to lie in the dirt, nursing the sore spots where bruises would soon be.

"Dude, how many weeds would we have to smoke to hotbox this thing," Gunner looked around the crumbling, little hut they'd chosen to shelter in.

Adriaan gave him a withering look. "Shut the fuck up."

"I'm just saying," he said, "we'd probably need like 30 weeds. Lotta jazz cigarettes. Some dank blunt kush."

That got a laugh out of Adriaan. "You're adorable."

"Am I even using hotbox in the right context?"

"Sorta, I guess. It needs to be an enclosed space, and this isn't really enclosed." He nodded over at the doorless doorway and holes for windows. "A car or small room would be better."

"So all the weeds would escape here?"

He sighed. "Yes, Gunner, all the weeds would escape."

"See? I know about the Mary Jane. How could I be surrounded by all these green trees and grass not know about the Devil's Lettuce?"

Adriaan snorted. "The Devil's Lettuce might be my favourite word for weed. My sister always used to call it that."

"She know you're a super mega pothead?"

"Yes. I do have other qualities, y'know?"

"Like what?"

"That's enough personal questions for now."

Gunner looked at him. "We're dating."

"You have to work to unlock my backstory."

"We've been friends for years."

"And in that time I have remained cool and mysterious. Now, we should get moving. I'm not hiding in here with you when there are people to make miserable out there." Adriaan stepped outside, glancing around and peering through the trees. Then, without warning, his head snapped back as green paint splattered across his vision. "Fuck!" He cried, ineffectively wiping the paint on his helmet.

"Who dare shoot Adriaan!?" Gunner ran outside, gun at the ready, only to get shot in the head. He stumbled, but the bullets kept coming, exploding across his chest and legs until he was knocked onto his back.

"Thanks. I feel very avenged." Adriaan looked around for the source of the hellfire, and found Berwald peering out from behind a wooden wall, painted to look like cobblestone.

"Of course," Gunner groaned, then lifted his gun to return fire.

Another paintball, fired from a different position, hit him in the shoulder.

"Don't try it, cheater," called Tino, "you're out. No more shooting."

"We didn't get to shoot anyone!" Gunner cried back.

"Get better, and don't just sit around making noise! We heard you, like, a mile away." Tino peered around, then began crawling over to Berwald. "Nice shot, baby. Any ammo left?"

"Bit."

"You think they're taking this too seriously?" asked Adriaan. Gunner groaned and nodded. "Wanna go find some of the others and have a shootout instead?"

Gunner wiped dirt off his uniform, before groaning and lying back. "If you mean bullying Luca and Tolli, absolutely."

It was just Gilbert and Vidar left, and they'd heard the others fall, one by one. They'd heard the screams, the gunshots. Neither knew who was next, and if it would be them. Probably them. And probably soon. They knew the Shite Death was on their tail. If they were being honest with themselves, they knew they didn't have a chance of winning. Or escaping. They weren't competing; they were being hunted. Despite all the cover of the forest, and despite the fact that both pairs of eyes hadn't spotted anyone coming near them, the pair couldn't help feeling like someone was following them.

"I don't like this," whispered Gilbert. Vidar shushed him.

They kept moving on, further into the map, and most likely towards danger. But the sooner the game ended, the sooner they could move on.

Gilbert slipped his hand into Vidar's, and Vidar gave him a strange look. "Sorry," he pulled away, "I'm tense." He sure looked it.

Behind them, a twig snapped, followed by the rustling of leaves. Vidar picked up the pace, constantly glancing behind. The second he saw that little fucker, he was blasting paint like he was at a bukakke.

He almost shot a tree branch for moving too quickly.

Gilbert's head was darting in every direction. This wasn't supposed to be so scary, but even Vidar was on edge. He didn't want his beautiful body bruised with bullets, paint or otherwise. It would hurt.

Another rustle, and they picked up the pace. There was nothing behind them, though. Vidar didn't like this.

Another twig snapped, and Gilbert burst into a sprint. He lept over a trench, ducking past trees and firing wildly. Vidar cursed, and ran after him. The forest veered and swam in front of him, but he dared not stop. Just ahead, Gilbert threw himself over a hay bale, and immediately let out a scream. There was the sound of gunshots, and Vidar was helpless, unable to react as he watched Berwald jump up and start firing.

It was like being punched in the heart. Except he was shot in the heart from a metre away.

"Damn you, Berwald!"

Berwald gave him the smallest, but smuggest smile. Vidar walked around the bale to find Gilbert sprawled out across the floor, groaning and covered in paint. Tino was next to him.

"How the fuck did you manage to get ahead of us?" Vidar bent over, panting.

Tino frowned. "You ran right into us. It was a little ridiculous."

"So it was Berwald stalking us through the forest?"

The pair shook their heads. "Nope. We were just sitting here, planning our next move," said Tino.

Gilbert frowned. "So what was following us?"

Everyone turned to look behind them. There was nothing there. The forest was deadly silent, everyone frozen in place. Vidar smacked Gilbert's arm.

"Idiot, there was nothing chasing us. We got freaked out over the wind."

"Ow, sorry. I panicked."

"Yeah, we all saw."

Despite Tino doing everything in his power to kill the fun for the rest of the group, it had been a good day overall. The games where they were just allowed to let loose and shoot everyone were the best, since Tino tended to take out everyone. Even though he was a sore loser and worse winner, the rage and/or gloating tended to evaporate soon after each game ended.

But now it was the last event, the Hunger Games, and Tino was hunting, gun clutched to his chest. The klaxon had just sounded, and he was already on the move, peering through the trees for any sign of the enemy. He kept low, not the most difficult task for someone of his height. He felt like a wolf, moving in silence, looking for prey. He could hear very distant shouts, shrieks and gunshots, but no visuals just yet. Only trees and props.

But it wasn't long before he found his first target. Oh, beloved Berwald, so blind. So oblivious. He was crouched behind a pile of logs, unfortunately, he had his back facing Tino, and that was his exposed side.

Tino shot him without hesitation.

Berwald made a strangled noise, turning around and giving Tino the most poisonous glare possible. He almost felt bad.

"Sorry, baby," he tried. Was Berwald actually mad at him? Was this the end for them.

"Y'bastard," Berwald joked, "y'cruel, backstabbin man." He didn't get up, instead lying in the dirt, pretending to choke on blood.

"I am, and you fell for it," relieved, Tino crouched down next to Berwald, taking off his helmet and stroking his hair. "You fell for me, the homme fatale." He kissed his nose.

"D'ya, regret it?"

""No", I lie."

Something very hard, and very painful, hit Tino's arm. He screamed, not from getting shot, but from the rage of losing so quickly. He threw his helmet on the floor.

"Ha!" cried Luca, "finally! Get rekt, noob!"

This is a bit of a weird tangent, but I just wanted to say this fic wouldn't exist without a SuFin fic I read in 2012 called "Babarian's Healer" which had folk metal and neofolk recommendations in the author's notes and checking them out led me down a metal and Nordic music rabbit hole that honestly changed my life forever. Even listening to songs mentioned in that fic made me really nostalgic, even though, back then, I was really depressed and had no friends, because metal and SuFin (and APH Nordics) brought me so much comfort at that time. And, anyway, I just wanted to say thanks to all the Nordics fans and fanfiction writers out there who helped younger me so much. I hope you're all doing well.

Also, I don't think "Barbarian's Healer" was ever finished, but I'd still recommend it. Such a good fic.

Also I just imagine Denmark talks about weed like Arin from Game Grumps does, and it's just endlessly amusing to me.