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1. Sniper Teaching Scout to Fight
"Nah, kid. Holding your fists in front of your chest is a surefire way to get a pop in the mouth, and then you're outta the fight right off. Put your dukes *up.*" Sniper demonstrates after slapping Scout's elbows.
Scout does so, bending more at the knees and shuffling a bit more.
"Beauty. Now me arms are longer, but you're quicker. So what d'you fancy you'll do when I do this?" Sniper strikes out with one ridiculously long arm and purposefully lets Scout block it. The kid then ducks close under the outstretched arm and gives him a fake one-two right in the solar plexus.
Sniper huffs, but the kid is pulling his punches so it doesn't hurt that much. "Atta boy, now back right up or I'll get ya again." He shoves Scout back and out of reach again. "Truth hurts, but you'll likely be fightin' bigger blokes your whole life," he begins.
"Hey!" Scout barks over his raised fists.
"--AND SO you've got to deliver the blows and get outta the way. Duck, move, one-two, back away and for pity's sake, keep your fists up, mate." Sniper lashes out at Scout's face and the young man lifts his fists again.
After an hour of coaching, both of them are sweaty and exhausted and Scout proclaims loudly he could take on the Heavy in a bare-knuckle match now. Sniper hands him a beer. "Mate, if the Heavy wanted to fight you, you're best bet is to smack him in the teeth with your forehead and run for the hills."
2. Scout is F2M
"Don't," Scout wishes he didn't sound so terrified but the damage is done. His voice is shaking and there's a tremor in his hands. "Don't tell nobody, ok? Please?" He scrambles for a towel and wraps it around his waist, turning red from head to toe.
Sniper is unreadable, standing there with only a towel around his waist and a bar of soap in one hand. Scout hadn't expected him to walk in, obviously. Who showers at 3am? Besides Scout: he'd done it a thousand times and never encountered any of the other mercs. But Sniper was a weird guy with a weird sleep schedule. He supposed it was inevitable.
The assassin stood stock-still, clearly surprised. Scout took a small amount of comfort in knowing that the unintentional revelation was such a shock; it meant that the world saw him as he saw himself. As just a guy. A normal guy minus one, pretty noticeable physical detail. A detail he could finally invest in once his contract with RED was up and he received his hefty salary in one, lump sum.
Scout would have run, but for one thing, Sniper was still blocking the door. For another, Scout couldn't leave until he knew Sniper would keep this under his hat.
Sniper looks at him and shrugs a bit. Then he nods. "Ain't no one's business. Yer alright, mate." And with that, Sniper's done talking about it.
Sniper tosses his towel aside and claims another shower-head. He doesn't say anything else as he showers, just washes as if he were completely comfortable. As if nothing had changed.
Scout feels relief that one can only really experience when they realize their world is not about to end. He takes a deep breath, sets his towel aside again, and continues with his shower. His trembling has stopped.
3. Sniper's Mother Passed Away
Sniper didn't come down for breakfast, lunch or dinner and the team is concerned. The man has missed his fair share of meals: wether he wasn't feeling sociable or he'd hunted his own food for the day, he was often absent. But he'd never missed three meals in a row.
Scout was the first to volunteer to investigate and the search begins and ends at Sniper's camper-van, parked behind the base.
He knocks for five whole minutes before he gives up and decides to force the door open, breaking the flimsy lock.
The smell makes him think that Sniper may have died in there. The truth is not that far off.
Sniper is clad only in boxer shorts and his hat, and he is out cold on his cot with an empty bottle of rum in hand. There's another one at the foot of the bed. And on the floor. The smell is mostly from a puddle of vomit on the floor, long dried up. It very much looks like he pissed himself hours ago.
"Jesus Christ..." Scout tries to breathe through his mouth and rushes to Sniper, pressing two fingers to the man's neck to feel for a pulse. Alive of course. If he was dead, the re-spawn would have picked him up within minutes.
Scout breathes a sigh of relief, careful still to keep his nose out of the equation. Looking around and taking a minute, it's fairly obvious that something happened to make Sniper do this to himself.
Scout works quickly. He gathers the empty bottles and tosses them into the bin. He does a rudimentary tidying up of the place and then grabs a towel from the water closet, wetting it under the tap. Returning to Sniper, Scout runs the towel down the man's limbs and torso, trying to remove the worst of the filth and stench. Tossing the towel as far away as possible, Scout focuses his attention on waking Sniper up.
It's not easy.
It takes a fair amount of shaking and yelling, but Sniper finally opens his eyes, moaning like a dying animal. He weakly bats at Scout, trying to turn on his side but failing.
"Yo, Legs, you gonna puke or what?" Scout scrambled for a container and found a bucket, shimmying it under Sniper's hanging head.
No less than two seconds later, Sniper is bringing up the contents of his stomach. Mostly booze. The noises he makes are horrendous and Scout has to concentrate with every fiber of his being not to start gagging in sympathy.
Soon, nothing else comes up. Sniper slumps back to the bed, squirming in misery and trying to catch his breath. He clenches his eyes shut against the one light bulb of the camper. "Thought this'd kill me…" he moans, sweating heavily now.
"What the hell did you do this for, Stretch? What happened?" Scout figured he was never one for decorum anyway. Might as well just ask.
For a minute, Sniper doesn't answer. When he does, the answer begins with a shaky breath and Scout realizes with horror that Sniper is crying. "Me mum died." His face crumples and then he's weeping openly, something Scout never thought he'd ever see from the stoic Australian.
Scout feels as though his stomach has dropped to his feet. He doesn't know how to deal with stuff like this. He doesn't know how to be a shoulder to cry on or how to offer advice to the bereaved. He doesn't even know how to be a good listener.
All he knows how to do is put his hand on Sniper's clammy shoulder and say, "Sorry, man." It's a long time before the tears stop.
He stays with Sniper until the next morning. In that time he helps the taller man drink water, take something for the headache and change clothes.
When the sun peeks over the horizon, Sniper is finally able to do some tasks without getting dizzy or throwing up, though he spends a lot of time retching behind the camper. They toss the mattress: it's a lost cause. Sniper absolutely cannot clean up his own vomit without adding to it, so Scout volunteers.
When they're done, it's getting to be lunch time and the camper is habitable again. Sniper showers and gingerly gets dressed, moving like every joint hurts and every muscle is sore. He wears dark sunglasses instead of his usual tinted aviators.
"Sorry you had to deal with that," he starts as they head back to the base for some food. "M'not in me right mind at the moment."
"It's ok, man." Scout replies. "I know… how close you were, you and your Ma. I think maybe a lotta people would do what you did."
"Dunno what Dad's gonna do without her. He can't even boil water." Sniper stops and buries his head in his hands. "I have to put in a request to go home. Gotta… gotta help him. He can't… he's got his wits about him but he can't…"
Scout tucks in close and voluntarily hugs another man for the first time since he left for the war and said goodbye to his brothers. Sniper is shaking in his arms, mumbling a mile a minute about all the things that have to be taken care of and Scout can't even catch all of it so he just holds on tighter. Scout doesn't want to think about what he would do if his own mother died. He doesn't want to imagine that kind of pain.
Sniper takes three deep breathes in a row and wipes his face on his sleeve. "Pull y'self together, y'cunt." He tells himself, straightening his shoulders. He doesn't want to go to pieces like this. "I'm okay." He tells the Scout, briefly returning the hug. "It's alright. I'll be alright."
Scout clears his throat and backs off. "Yeah you will." He gives a sympathetic smile and the two return to the base.
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