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Scout doesn’t even realize what’s happening at first.
One second he’s running his mouth—something about aim, something about how he could totally do what Sniper does if he wanted to—and the next, there’s a hand on his arm.
Firm.
Warm.
“C’mere.”
Scout barely gets a “—hey, what—” out before he’s pulled sideways.
Oh.
Oh, hell.
He lands.
Not on the ground. Not on a crate. On Sniper.
Specifically, on his lap.
Oh, this is dangerous for him.
Because it’s not just a small gesture—this is full-on proximity, attention, and affection all at once. He has no defenses for this.
He goes completely still. Like someone hit pause on him.
“…uh.”
That’s all he’s got. That’s the whole vocabulary right now.
Sniper doesn’t seem bothered. Not even a little. Just shifts slightly to get comfortable, one arm loosely braced behind Scout so he doesn’t tip over.
Like this is normal.
Like this happens all the time.
Scout’s brain is doing everything it can to catch up. (It’s not succeeding.)
“I— I coulda sat somewhere else, y’know,” he says, except it comes out weak. Not his usual bite. Not even close.
Sniper huffs, almost amused.
“Yeah, could’ve,” he says. “Didn’t, though.”
And before Scout can even begin to process that—hands.
On his face.
Sniper’s big, calloused hands come up and—just—cup his cheeks. And squish.
Scout’s eyes go wide for half a second—then squeeze shut.
Because oh my god—
“Bloody gorgeous,” Sniper rumbles, like he’s commenting on the weather. Casual. Easy.
Scout’s brain stops.
Just—completely stops.
There’s nothing. No thoughts. No comebacks. No insults. No anything.
Just warmth.
And then things get arguably worse. Because Sniper leans in and starts kissing his squished cheek.
Nothing too serious, just a light brush of the lips where his stubble gently touches Scout’s clean shaven face, but it’s enough for Scout to completely lose all restraint.
His face is burning—no, glowing at this point—and he can feel his mouth pulling into this stupid, wobbly grin he cannot control. His cheeks are still being squished, being kissed, so it just makes it worse—his lips push up awkwardly, his buck teeth peeking out, and he knows, he knows he looks ridiculous right now.
He does not care.
Not even a little.
There’s this buzzing feeling in his chest, light and floaty and way too big for his ribs. Like if he opens his eyes, something’s gonna spill out—words or laughter or hearts or something equally embarrassing.
So he keeps them shut.
Leans into it.
Just a little.
(It’s more than a little.)
Sniper lets out a quiet chuckle, thumbs brushing lightly under Scout’s eyes before finally—finally—letting go.
The absence hits immediately.
Scout opens his eyes. Slow. Like waking up from something.
“…uh.”
Yeah. Still nothing.
Sniper’s looking at him like he’s interesting. Not mocking. Not annoyed.
Just… looking.
Scout swallows.
Hard.
His hands, which he didn’t even realize had grabbed onto Sniper’s vest at some point, loosen awkwardly. He pulls back—just enough to breathe properly again, not enough to actually leave. Not yet.
“…yer weird,” Scout manages.
It’s weak. Barely there. No heat behind it.
Sniper just shrugs. “Takes one ta know one.”
And that—that does something to him.
Scout laughs. A short, breathy thing that doesn’t sound like his usual laugh at all.
Then he stops.
Because his heart is still going.
Fast.
Loud.
Happy.
And he’s still sitting there. He hasn’t moved.
He doesn’t want to.
Scout glances down, then back up, like he’s trying to figure something out and all the pieces are there but none of them are labeled.
“…what da hell,” he murmurs.
Sniper raises a brow. “Somethin’ wrong?”
Scout opens his mouth. Closes it.
Because yeah. Something’s wrong. Or—
No.
Not wrong.
Just… new.
Weird.
Big.
His fingers curl slightly in the fabric of Sniper’s vest again, almost without him noticing.
“…nah,” he says quietly.
And for once, he doesn’t jump up. Doesn’t shove it off. Doesn’t turn it into a joke.
He just sits there a second longer. Then another. Letting the feeling settle. Letting it exist.
“…I don’t hate dis,” he admits, more to himself than anything.
Sniper hums, like he heard it anyway. “Good.”
Scout’s face somehow gets even warmer.
He lets out a slow breath, shoulders dropping just a little, tension melting into something softer. Safer.
“…yeah,” he says, even quieter.
And then, after a pause—small, hesitant, but real— “…I like it.”
The words land heavier this time. Stick.
He doesn’t take them back.
Doesn’t even try.
Scout leans back—just slightly—like he’s testing it.
Like he’s allowed.
Like maybe he wants more of it.
“…I like ya,” he almost says.
Almost.
Instead, he just huffs under his breath, a tiny, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips.
“…aw, hell.”
But he doesn’t move.
And that says enough.
———
Scout is usually loud, fast, joking—but here, his thoughts feel stuck, like he can’t outrun what’s happening.
The first shot doesn’t sound like it should.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
It’s sharp.
Clean.
Just… wrong.
Scout stops. He doesn’t even process it at first.
He’s mid-sentence, mid-motion—because he’s always mid-something.
And then he looks over and sees Sniper’s standing a few yards away. Still. Too still.
For a second, Scout just blinks.
He’s fine.
Of course he is.
That’s Sniper.
Sniper doesn’t mess up. Doesn’t get caught off guard. Doesn’t—
Then the second shot hits.
And that’s the moment everything collapses.
No more denial.
No more “he’ll walk it off.”
Just this awful, sinking realization— Sniper sways.
Scout laughs under his breath, automatic, nervous.
Then he sees it.
The red spreading through Sniper’s shirt.
And suddenly Scout’s brain just… stutters.
No, that ain’t—that ain’t right.
People are shouting. Someone—maybe Soldier—is yelling at the approaching sub from the rest of those mercenary chuckleheads that Gray Mann hired.
Scout can’t hear it right. It felt like everything was slowing down around Scout while the world just… kept going without him.
Everything sounds far away.
Muffled.
Like he’s underwater, which is ironic because he was underwater, but this felt even worse.
The water from the overflowing New Zealand lab felt murky, cold and heavy— weighing on his feet, and raising. Like a chain that stopped him from reacting. From getting to Sniper.
He’s fine.
He’s gotta be fine.
Sniper doesn’t just drop. He doesn’t just—this isn’t how that works.
Scout takes a step forward.
Then another.
“Hey. Hey—c’mon, man, shake it off.” His voice comes out too loud. Too forced.
Too wrong.
And that’s it.
That’s the moment everything inside him just— breaks.
“No—no, no, no—!” He’s moving before he even realizes it.
His legs move before he decides to.
Running.
Of course he’s running.
That’s what he does.
He’s fast. He’s always been the fastest. Nothing outruns him, nothing gets past him, nothing—
Then why wasn’t he fast enough?
He drops to his knees in front of Sniper, hands hovering for a second like he doesn’t even know where to touch.
Like if he picks wrong, it’ll make it worse.
“Hey—hey, c’mon, don’t—don’t do dat, alright? You’re good. You’re good.”
He presses his hands down anyway. Doesn’t matter where. Anywhere. Everywhere.
There’s too much blood.
Way too much.
Scout’s brain is racing, but the world is quiet. The background noises fades. The other mercs blur out.
It’s just the two of them.
No answer.
Of course there’s no answer.
So Scout keeps talking—not because he knows what to say, but because silence would mean accepting it.
Until Sniper exhales slowly.
Not panicked.
Not rushed.
Just… steady.
Scout hates that more than anything.
“Oi,” Sniper mutters, voice low, almost annoyed. “Quit shoutin’.”
Scout laughs—sharp, desperate. Because if he can joke about it, it’s not real yet.
“Oh yeah, yeah, sure, sorry, lemme just—lemme jus’ keep it down, right? Dat’s what ya want? You want me ta—” His words trip over each other, falling apart before they can even land.
“Just—just hold on, alright? We’re gonna fix ya. You’ve had worse than dis, remember? Way worse. Dis is nothin’. Dis is—dis is like a scratch for ya.” He nods like he’s convincing himself.
Like if he says it enough, it’ll be true.
Sniper’s eyes shift toward him. Focused. Clear.
Too clear.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Right.”
And something about the way he says it—it’s wrong.
Scout shakes his head fast. “Nope. Nope, don’t—don’t do dat. Don’t give me dat look. I know dat look. You ain’t—no. You’re fine.”
His hands are shaking now. He tries to press harder, like he can physically force the bleeding to stop.
But it’s funny. His hands don’t feel like his anymore…
“Just—just stay with me, alright? Talk ta me. Y’know, complain about somethin’. Tell me I’m annoyin’. C’mon, ya love doin’ dat.” His voice comes out wrong—too loud, too desperate.
Sniper lets out a quiet breath. “…Ya weah nevah annoyin’, roo.”
Scout freezes.
For a second, he just stares.
“…What?”
That’s not right.
That’s not what he’s supposed to say.
“No, no—hold on, hold on—don’t—don’t start actin’ weird on me now, alright?” Scout’s voice is rising again, frantic. “You’re gonna be fine, you hear me? You don’t get ta just—just say stuff like dat and den—”
His throat tightens.
The words don’t come out right anymore.
Sniper’s gaze drifts, just slightly.
Not unfocused.
Just… tired.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
Scout leans in instantly. “Yeah—yeah, I’m here, I’m here, what—what d’you need? What—”
Sniper’s lips twitch, almost a smile.
“Relax, mate.”
Scout’s breath hitches. “No.”
It comes out small.
Barely there.
Because Sniper might already understand what’s happening before Scout does. And Scout rejects that immediately.
Because it’s not alright.
“No. No, I ain’t doin’ dat. Ya don’t get ta tell me to relax right now, alright? Dat’s not—no. You’re gonna be fine. You have ta be fine.” His voice breaks completely on the last word.
For the first time in his life…
Scout doesn’t know what to do.
He can’t run this off.
Can’t fight it.
Can’t joke it away.
All he can do is sit there—holding on—and feel it slipping through his fingers anyway.
And somewhere, buried under the panic, under the noise, under everything that’s falling apart—there’s one thought.
Small.
Quiet.
Terrifying.
Something raw. Almost childlike.
I didn’t even say goodbye…
———
The world is too loud.
Gunfire cracks through the air in sharp, metallic bursts. The ground shakes under heavy, mechanical footsteps as Gray Mann’s robots advance—relentless, unthinking, everywhere.
And right in the middle of it—
Scout is still running.
Because of course he is.
“C’mon, c’mon— ya rust buckets ain’t even tryin’!” he shouts, breath quick, feet faster, weaving between blasts like it’s just another fight, just another day, just another—
Something hits him.
Hard.
It doesn’t knock him down right away. That would be too simple.
Instead, it stutters him. Like someone reached in and skipped a second of time.
Scout keeps moving—but it’s off. His stride isn’t clean. His balance wobbles for half a step, then another.
“Pfft— okay, real funny,” he mutters, shaking his head like he can rattle the feeling loose. “Y’gotta do better dan dat, pal—”
His foot catches.
He stumbles.
That… doesn’t happen.
Scout frowns, more confused than concerned. “Uh. Huh.”
Another step. Slower.
“…Huh.”
The noise starts to fade.
Not all at once—just enough that it feels like someone’s turning a dial somewhere far away.
Gunfire becomes dull pops. Explosions lose their edge.
Even his own breathing sounds… distant.
Scout blinks hard, like he can force everything back into focus. “Okay— okay, timeout— hang on—”
He tries to move again.
His legs respond. Just… not right.
Not fast enough.
At first, he doesn’t even register it properly. It’s like his thoughts are slipping on ice.
Nah, I’m good. I’m always good.
Just gotta—just gotta shake it off—
That’s when the warmth starts creeping in.
It’s subtle at first. Easy to miss. A kind of lightness in his chest. A looseness in his limbs. Like he just finished a long run and finally got to stop.
“…Heh.” Scout lets out a small, surprised laugh.
That’s new.
That’s wrong.
Then the delirium starts to creep in, making Scout’s final moments feel like his mind is trying to protect him… smoothing out the fear, turning it into something warmer, even funny in a bittersweet way.
Like the world is turning down the volume just for him.
The battlefield blurs at the edges.
The gray of metal and smoke softens into something brighter. Warmer.
For a second—just a second—he swears he can see sunlight bouncing off pavement.
He squints.
“…No way.”
The sound of a ball hitting concrete echoes somewhere in the distance.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Scout’s grin spreads, easy and familiar. “Aw, c’mon, ya kiddin’ me right now?”
He takes a step forward— and suddenly he’s not on the battlefield anymore.
Or at least… it doesn’t feel like it.
The air’s different. Lighter. Warmer.
Boston in the summer. Sticky heat, loud streets, the kind of day where you don’t got a care in the world except winning the next round.
Scout laughs again, fuller this time, shaking his head.
“Man, I got time for one more, right? One more game—” His words slur together at the edges, but he doesn’t notice.
Doesn’t care.
He’s happy. Not because things are okay—but because his brain is letting him feel like they are.
He starts remembering things out of order: running with his brothers, trash-talking someone who isn’t even there, trying way too hard to impress someone.
Little flashes of a life that suddenly feels… complete.
Something shifts in front of him.
Not sharp. Not clear.
Just a shape.
A person.
Standing there like they’ve been waiting.
Scout squints, trying to focus, but it’s like looking through heat waves.
Still—he knows that outline. Knows it like muscle memory.
His smile softens, turns into something quieter.
“…Hey. Snipes? Dat you?” He takes another step, a little unsteady, but he doesn’t feel it anymore.
The world tilts.
Not violently. Just enough.
His knees finally give out, slow and gentle, like they’re lowering him instead of dropping him. The ground meets him easy.
Soft.
Back on the battlefield, the fight still rages.
But it’s far away now.
Too far to matter.
Scout lies there, staring up at a roof he doesn’t quite see anymore.
His chest rises, falls—shallow, uneven.
His grip loosens around nothing.
But his face?
Relaxed.
Peaceful.
Happy.
And then comes the quiet realization—not fully formed, just felt.
…Oh.
Not fear. Just understanding.
“Heh…” He laughed with delirious optimism, “I knew I was too fast to stick around…”
There’s that shape again. Closer now.
Waiting.
Scout exhales a quiet, breathy laugh. “Took ya long enough…”
“…Hey.” His voice drops, softer than it’s ever been. Almost a whisper. “…wait up…”
And then—stillness.
The battlefield keeps going.
The war doesn’t stop.
But Scout is already gone.
Running somewhere else.
Toward someone who never really left.
———
The first thing Scout notices is the quiet.
No gunfire.
No yelling.
No anything.
Just… wind. Soft, warm, brushing past him like it actually cares.
He squints. “Uh… hello?”
White. Endless, bright fluffy white. The sky is too blue, like someone cranked the saturation all the way up.
“…Okay. Either I’m dead, or I finally got upgraded ta first class.”
A voice answers, calm and familiar. “Reckon it’s the first one.”
Scout freezes.
Slowly—slowly—he turns.
And there he is.
Sniper stands a few steps away, posture loose like always, wearing a long flowing white dress now, but same posture. Same everything.
Just… softer.
Scout’s face scrunches like his brain can’t catch up.
“…No way.”
Sniper gives a small smile. “G’day, mate.”
That’s all it takes.
Scout bolts forward. “MICK—!”
He slams into him, arms wrapping tight, like if he lets go for even a second this’ll disappear.
Sniper stumbles back a step, surprised—but then his arms come up too, steady and grounding. “Easy there—”
He doesn’t get to continue, not when Scout’s hands slid up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer and into a kiss. Messy, desperate. As if Scout didn’t took this opportunity now, Sniper would just disappear once again.
And Sniper let him, once the initial surprise faded. Cupping the boy’s cheek, he kissed back— although softer. More affectionate, even. As if to reassure Scout I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.
“You’re alive—! I mean—no, you’re not, but—you’re here!” Scout pulls back just enough to look at him, hands gripping his shoulders like he needs proof. “I saw ya go down, man, ya—ya weren’t gettin’ back up, I—”
“Yeah,” Sniper says quietly. “I know.”
Scout’s voice cracks a little despite himself. “I thought dat was it.”
Sniper studies him for a second, something softer in his eyes than Scout’s ever seen before.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Scout laughs—loud, messy, relieved. “Ha! Oh man, dis is—dis is great! You’re here, I’m here—dis place is kinda weird but I can work with it—Hey, ya dink dey got food? Like, actual food? ‘Cause if dis is Heaven, dey better not be servin’ like, salad or somethin’—”
Sniper huffs a quiet chuckle. “Pretchoo sah you’ll survive.”
“Yeah, yeah, I always do—” Scout grins, bumping his shoulder. “Guess we made it, huh? Not bad for a couple’a guys who shoulda been dead like—ten times over.”
Sniper doesn’t answer right away.
“…Yeah,” he says finally. “Not bad.”
Scout doesn’t notice the pause. He’s already pacing, looking around like a kid in a candy store.
“Okay, okay, so what do we do first? Dere’s gotta be somethin’ to do—like, I dunno, cloud racin’? Angel baseball?—Oh! Ya dink God’s around? I gotta meet dat guy, I got questions—”
“Roo.”
Something in Sniper’s tone makes him stop.
“…What?”
Sniper looks at him. Really looks at him this time.
“Good ta see yah.”
It’s simple. Honest.
Scout blinks. “…Yeah.”
He grins again, softer now. “Yeah. Ya too, man.”
A whistle cuts through the air.
Sharp. Loud. Out of place.
Scout winces. “Okay, what da hell was—”
“YO!”
Both of them look up.
A figure drops from the sky like he’s jumping out of a plane—lands hard, cracks the ground slightly, then straightens up like it was nothing.
Broad shoulders. Immaculate white robe. The kind of energy that fills the whole space whether you want it to or not.
God claps his hands together. “Alright! Roll call time!”
Scout squints. “…No way.”
God points straight at him. “HEY! There he is! My guy!”
Scout points at himself. “Me??”
“That’s you, champ!” God jogs over, slinging an arm around Scout like they’re old teammates. “Man, I’ve been waitin’ on you! You got no idea how big a deal you are up here!”
Scout’s brain short-circuits. “I—uh—yeah! I mean—yeah, I do! Obviously! Big deal, dat’s me—”
Sniper watches, silent.
God grins. “You’re the gift, baby! Humanity’s MVP! You get full access—lounges, perks, all the good stuff!”
Scout lights up. “Oh, sweet! See, I knew I—”
God snaps his fingers, turning.
“And you—!” He points at Sniper.
The energy shifts. Subtle. But sharp.
Sniper straightens slightly. “Yeah?”
God jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Wrong direction, buddy.”
Scout blinks. “…What?”
“Yeah, nah, you’re not stayin’. You’re just here on a temporary pass—family requested a goodbye, we honored it, whole thing. Real touching stuff.” God says it casually, like he’s giving directions to the locker room.
Scout’s smile fades. “Wait—what?”
Sniper doesn’t react much. Just exhales through his nose.
“Right.”
Scout looks between them. “Hold on—hold on, what do you mean ‘not stayin’’?”
God shrugs. “Means he’s goin’ downstairs.”
“…Downstairs.”
“Yup.”
Scout’s voice comes out smaller. “You mean—like—Hell downstairs?”
God points at him. “Ding ding ding! We got a winner!”
Scout lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Ha—okay, real funny—so what, dis is like a test or somethin’? ‘Cause he’s with me, so—”
“Nope!” God says brightly. “Separate deal. Different rules.”
Scout turns to Sniper. “Hey. Hey—tell him, man.”
Sniper’s expression is calm. Too calm. “It’s alright.”
Scout stares at him. “…What?”
It’s alright. Again.
Jeremy was starting to really hate that sentence…
“Oi knew,” Sniper says simply. “Mawah awr less.”
“Ya knew?!”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re just—what, okay with dat?!”
Sniper shrugs lightly. “Don’t gottah liyyke it ta accept it.”
Scout’s breathing picks up. “No—no, dat’s—no, dat’s stupid! Dat’s—what did you even do?!”
Sniper didn’t answer. Because the answer was obvious.
He’s spent a majority of his life killing people, ruining lives, doing whatever contract paid the best.
Granted, some of his targets deserved it, but some of them were just blokes who pissed somebody off and now they wanted them disappeared. And he’d did it. After all, it wasn’t a sniper’s job to know who he was shooting— just taking the shot.
God checks something invisible on his wrist. “Alright, time’s up! Gotta keep things movin’—”
“WAIT!” Scout steps in front of Sniper. “No, no, no, ya don’t just get to—hold on—what about me?!”
God grins again, like this is the easiest question in the world. “You? You’re golden, baby! Like I said—my gift! You got permanent clearance.”
Scout stares. “…So I stay.”
“Yup!”
“And he goes.”
“Yup!”
“…Dat’s messed up.”
God tilts his head. “Nah, that’s the system.”
Scout shakes his head, backing up a step. “No, no, dat’s—dat’s messed up! He didn’t even—he’s not even fightin’ it!”
Sniper steps forward slightly. “Roo—“
“No!” Scout snaps, turning on him. “No, you don’t get ta do dat—! You don’t get to just—just walk off like it’s nothin’!”
Sniper’s voice is steady. “It ayyn’t nothin’. It’s just… how it is.”
Scout’s hands clench. “Dat’s garbage!”
“Hey.” Sniper looks at him, softer now.
Scout freezes.
“I got ta see my folks agayyn,” Sniper says quietly. “Got ta say goodbye propah.”
His gaze flicks around the endless sky. “That’s mawah than I figured I’d get.”
Scoit froze. Because Sniper was not fighting.
He’s not begging.
He’s just… done.
That told him that Sniper’s lived with guilt or awareness for such a long time that he doesn’t even expect a happy ending anymore.
This goodbye — to his parents, to Scout — was enough for him.
But it still made his voice drop. “…Dat’s not enough.”
Sniper gives a small, almost sad smile. “It is fawr me.”
God claps once. “Alright, heartfelt moment over—let’s—”
“NO.”
The word cuts through everything.
Scout steps forward, jaw set. “I ain’t stayin’.”
God blinks. “…What?”
“I said I ain’t stayin’,” Scout repeats, louder now. “Not like dis.”
God laughs, like he thinks it’s a joke. “C’mon, man, don’t be crazy—this is Heaven!”
“Yeah?” Scout shoots back. “Den why’s it feel so wrong?!”
God’s grin falters just a little.
Scout jabs a thumb at Sniper. “He goes, I go. Dat’s it.”
Sniper’s eyes widen slightly. “Roo—don’t.”
“Too late,” Scout says, grabbing his arm. “I ain’t stickin’ around just ‘cause a reward I didn’t even earn—especially if it means leavin’ ya behind!”
“Kid—”
“I’m serious!” Scout looks back at God, fierce. “You want me up here? Den fix it.”
God crosses his arms. “That’s not how this works.”
“Yeah?” Scout tightens his grip on Sniper. He squares his shoulders. “Den we’re gonna make it work.”
Mick watches him, silently as always. Observing like a sniper would.
Scout refusing Heaven isn’t just rebellion—it’s growth. Not just “God’s gift”, but someone who chooses his own worth.
Sniper exhales, something conflicted flickering across his face. “…You’ah a bloody idiot.”
Scout grins, wild and stubborn.
“Yeah. But I’m yer idiot.”
Then, reluctantly—just slightly—Sniper’s grip tightens back.
God sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, this is gonna be a whole thing, isn’t it?”
Scout’s already pulling Sniper back, eyes scanning the horizon like there’s gotta be something—some way out.
“C’mon,” he mutters. “Dere’s always a way.”
And for the first time since he arrived— Heaven doesn’t feel like the end.
It feels like the start of a jailbreak.
———
The clouds aren’t soft.
That’s the first thing Scout learns as he barrels straight through one, dragging Sniper by the wrist.
“OW—okay—what da—why are dese like WALLS?!” Scout yelps as he shoulder-checks what looks like a fluffy cloud but feels like marble.
“Because,” Sniper pants, bare feet skidding under his long white robe as he’s yanked along, “this is a fahkin' terrible ideah—!”
Behind them, a chorus of distant voices echoes:
“STOP!”
“RETURN TO DESIGNATED AREA!”
“NO RUNNING IN PARADISE!”
Scout doesn’t even look back. “Yeah, yeah, take it up with management!”
They burst out onto what looks suspiciously like a pristine marble walkway lined with golden railings and glowing fountains.
Scout slows just enough to gawk.
“…Ya gotta be kiddin’ me.”
Sniper squints around. “…What?”
“Dis place!” Scout gestures wildly. “It’s like—like some kinda fancy vacation spot! Where’s da clouds? Da harps? Da—y’know—Heaven stuff?!”
Sniper deadpans, “Pretchoo sah this is the bloody Heaven stuff, mate.”
“Yeah, well, it’s stupid!” Scout snaps, already moving again. “Why’s it look like a luxury hotel, huh?! Who decided dat?!”
An angel swoops down ahead of them, wings flaring, blocking the path.
“HALT—”
Scout immediately veers off course. “NOPE!”
They slide across polished floors, knocking over something that definitely shouldn’t be able to tip.
Sniper stumbles, barely keeping up. “Scout—listen ta me—! Even if we get out, we’ve got no ideah wat 'appens next!”
Scout doesn’t slow. “Yeah, we do!”
“Oh yeah?” Sniper shoots back. “Enlighten me!”
Scout glances back at him, grin wild, eyes burning with something stronger than panic.
“Anywhere’s better dan dis!”
Sniper frowns. “That’s not a plan—”
“Yeah it is!” Scout cuts in. “Anywhere can be Heaven, alright?! Long as I got ya, da guys, my ma—our people! Dat’s it! Dat’s all I need!”
Sniper falters for half a step. It’s reckless, loud, a little stupid—and somehow completely right.
“…Roo.”
But Scout just keeps going.
They burst through a set of massive golden doors—and everything stops.
Ahead of them: the edge.
Not a wall. Not a gate.
Just… nothing.
An endless drop into blinding light.
Wind howls upward, tugging at their robes.
Scout skids to a halt right at the brink.
“…Oh.”
Sniper walks up beside him, breathing hard. “…Yer. That’ll do it.”
They both stare down.
It’s impossibly far.
“…Ya don’t seriously think—” Sniper starts.
Scout turns to him. Completely serious.
“Oh, I seriously dhink.”
Sniper blinks. “You’ah insane.”
“Yeah.” Scout shrugs. For a second, he hesitates.
He looks at Heaven—everything he’s ever wanted: recognition, comfort, belonging.
And then looks up at Sniper, “Ya comin’ or what?”
Sniper looks back at the horizon. At the pristine, perfect, wrong version of Heaven behind them. Then at Scout.
At the kid who should stay — who gets to stay — and is choosing not to.
All for him…
Sniper exhales slowly.
“…Bloody hell.” Then he steps closer. “Fine.”
Scout’s grin snaps back instantly. “Knew it!”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
“Oh, you’re definitely gonna regret dis.”
They clasp hands—tight, steady.
For a second, neither of them moves.
“Alright,” Scout says. “On three.”
Sniper narrows his eyes. “You’ah gonnah jump on two, ahren’t ya?”
Scout grins. “Ya know me so well.”
“…Idiot.”
“Yeah, yeah—one—”
“Scout—”
“—TWO—!”
They jump, and the world vanishes.
Heaven watches.
God crosses his arms, musing out a: “…Huh. Didn’t think of that.”
Not angry. Just mildly impressed.
And for the first time—Heaven feels a little less perfect…
———
Wind roars past them as they plummet, clouds tearing around them in violent streaks.
Scout is screaming at full volume, zero dignity. Sniper starts composed for like two seconds, then immediately joins in.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—!!”
“YA BLOODY IDIOT—!!”
Scout is howling, arms flailing wildly. “OH MY GOD WE’RE ACTUALLY DOIN’ DIS—!!”
“THIS WAS YAH IDEA—!!”
“I KNOW—!!”
They spin, tumbling end over end, the sky twisting into a blur of white and blue.
“ARE WE GONNA HIT DA GROUND—?!” Scout yells.
“OF COURSE WE AAH—!!” Sniper snaps. “THAT’S HOW FALLIN’ WORKS—!!”
“OKAY BUT LIKE—WHAT IF WE DON’T—?!”
“THAT’S NOT BETTER—!!”
The air changes.
Warmer. Heavier.
The light shifts—gold fading into something harsher. Realer.
Scout’s voice cracks mid-scream. “WAIT—WAIT—SOMETHIN’S HAPPENIN’—!!”
It feels like a violent snap back into pain, weight, gravity.
Lungs filling again like drowning in air.
Heartbeat slamming back on like a gunshot—and suddenly—Scout’s eyes snap open, and he’s in his body.
Inside the ruined base, everything feels half-burnt and half-forgotten. Broken robots, scorched metal, and rubble. So much rubble.
But Sniper’s alive again, real again, and Scout has to find him.
Surprisingly, coming back from the death was easier than the whole dying process. Especially with the swan dive he just experienced. Scout could run through the halls as fast and as easily as he’s done it his whole life.
C’mon c’mon, where would they be keeping him?! This stupid base shouldn’t be that big, right?
Scout was so concentrated in looking around that he collided onto something hard. He immediately settled into a combat position, fists raised, because there wasn’t really anything else he could do, when he saw who exactly did he collided with.
Relief quickly flooded Scout, because for once, the universe had been kind to him. And right in front, nursing a large Y-shaped wound which was bleeding around the edges, was none other than his Sniper.
Standing like he’s still trying to process gravity.
It seems like Mick was also surprised to find him so quickly, because he exhales, then lets out this quiet, disbelieving laugh.
“Of course it’s ya.”
Because it really is ridiculous, in the best possible way. He was meant to be somewhere else entirely, and the universe still couldn’t keep Scout from him.
Scout is laughing like a maniac: “WE DID IT—!!”
“…I hate ya.” Sniper muttered, with no real bite.
Scout doesn’t try to explain Heaven. Doesn’t bring up falling out of it. Doesn’t even try to make it sound cool.
He just steps forward and kisses him again, never mind Sniper’s naked state or the blood from the wound sticking to his shirt.
And that matters more than anything else right now. Not a victory. Not a joke. Just relief—fast, instinctive, like he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
Sniper stiffens for half a second, then gives in to it in that reluctant way he does when something actually gets to him.
For a moment, it’s quiet enough that it almost feels like the world is giving them a second to exist outside of everything else.
BOOM.
Somewhere outside, something detonates. The base shakes. Dust falls from the ceiling like the world is impatiently tapping its foot.
Of course it does.
Because this is still their life.
Sniper exhales through his nose like he’s already tired again.
Scout pulls back, already grinning like he’s back in motion.
And neither of them even question it—they just move.
No big speech. No final resolution. Just two people who were not supposed to be here, choosing to keep going anyway.
Together.
Something’s… different, though.
Sniper knows where he was supposed to go. Scout knows he wasn’t supposed to come back.
That lingered. Not in a depressing way—just a quiet awareness:
They weren’t meant to get a second chance.
“…So, uh… ya dhink dat means we’re banned from Heaven now?” Scout suddenly asked, staring at the sky.
“Mate… I reckon we jumped the bloody queue.” Sniper said, without missing a beat.
Scout turns his head just enough to see him—and despite everything—he grins.
“Hey—!”
Sniper looks back, incredulous. “What—?!”
“Still worth it!”
Sniper stares at him for half a second—then, against all logic—he laughs.
“Yeah,” he says.
“…Yeah, it is.”