Deception :: Sniper/Spy

The RED Sniper crouched by the small open window, scope focused towards the battlefield. He was keeping the small red dot of his laser trained on the BLU Pyro, waiting for the right moment.

Boom! The shot rang out across the field, and the Pyro dropped to the ground, dead. Sniper stood, taking off his hat in a moment of silence for the dead man. 

As he kneeled back down, he realized he was the only one who even remotely cared about those who died, from either team. They were replaced, those who had died, by new teammates every battle. Some mercenaries never made it through one before they were killed. 

They had families, those who had died. They had wives, husbands, children. And nobody knew. They slaughtered each other day after day, battle after day, for what? What purpose could be strong enough to drive men and women to kill so ruthlessly? So violently?

Money. Money was the answer. Money made them forget that these people had families. Money made them forget that they were just like one another. Money made them forget that what they were doing was wrong.

Sniper sighed. He knew he wasn't an exception. He didn't spend his money recklessly though, if that was any excuse. Most of it had gone towards his sister's hospital bill, towards trying to save her from her own battle. Not against people, but against cancer. 

That wasn't an excuse though. Killing many people, just to save one. One who died no matter how much money was spent. Even Sniper knew how ridiculous that sounded.

He sighed quietly, turning his focus back to the battlefield. 

His eyes were on the field, but his mind was elsewhere. He wasn't as focused as he should be, which is why he almost missed the faint sound of footsteps behind him. He dropped his rifle to the ground beside him, pulling out his Kukri as he stood and turned. "Oi know you're there, Spook!" He growled.

A quiet laugh was heard. Big mistake. Sniper reached out, slicing his Kukri in the direction of the sound. 

The BLU Spy appeared in a small cloud of color, a large gash in his arm. With a quiet grunt of pain, he flicked his knife towards Sniper. It shot through the air, embedding itself in Sniper's shoulder. "Bloody Spook!" The bushman growled, knowing the knife was meant to hit his heart. It was hard to throw accurately when you had a large cut through your tricep, which is why Sniper was still alive.

Sniper shoved the Frenchman against the wall with a growl, Kukri against his throat. 

"Please..." The Spy murmured. "Don't do zis... s'il vous plaît..."

"Oi'm sorry, Spook..." Sniper whispered, closing his eyes as he drove the Kukri into the other's heart, killing him quickly and almost painlessly.

Sniper stepped back, releasing the Frenchman, watching as the body slid to the floor with a thump. Removing his hat, he looked down at the body, feeling nauseated. The Announcer's voice spoke out, announcing a win for the RED team.

Sniper didn't smile. He rarely did. True, they had won the battle, but not without killing. When that day came, the day they could capture the intel briefcase without killing, then he would smile. Then, he would celebrate. He gathered up his weapons and headed down to where his teammates were clapping each other on the back and congratulation one another.

Scout came up to him. "Hey man, thanks for takin' out that Pyro. He woulda' got me if ya didn't." She grinned at him. She was pretty new, only been around for three battles; about a week. And she would be gone just as quickly, just another dead body on the battlefield.

Sniper nodded, but didn't speak. He headed into the respawn room, and through the base. The team would be celebrating tonight, and he wanted to be as far away as possible. 

He trudged silently through the base, praying that nobody would stop him and drag him to the celebration. Praying that nobody would congratulate him on yet another kill. The one in the very beginning, that was enough. Then three, five, ten, fifteen. He'd killed many people, for no reason other than he was told to. He was a robot- they all were. Puppets of the idiotic Mann brothers. 

"Herr Sniper, vait!" Medic called from behind him. Sniper rolled his eyes and continued walking. 

"Sniper! You have a knife in your shoulder!" 

With a sigh, Sniper stopped and turned to face the German doctor. "Do Oi look loike Oi bloody care?" He snapped. 

Medic took a small step back. "Vell, ah, I vas just concerned for your healzh." 

"Oi can take care of it on my own!" Sniper huffed, turning and continuing the walk towards his van.

As he passed in front of the Medbay, Medic caught up to him. "Sniper, I said vait!"

"What?" he snapped, stopping and angrily facing the German.

"I can fix your shoulder for you."

"Oi said Oi don't need your bloody help, Nurse!"

Medic roughly grabbed his arm and practically dragged him into the Medbay.

"Hey! Let go of me!" Sniper growled, yanking his arm away once he was inside. 

"Zhis vill only take a minute! Just vait, bitte!"

Sniper frowned, giving in only because he wanted to avoid an argument. "Make it quick."

Medic did the job quickly, pulling the knife out of his shoulder easily, and handing the small weapon to Sniper telling him to keep it, sort of as a 'reminder'. Of what, Sniper had no idea. But he pocketed the knife anyways, watching as Medic placed a small healing pack on his wound.

After Medic had finished, Sniper stood wordlessly and headed towards the door. As he left. He heard the German call out, sounding slightly annoyed. "You're velcome!" 

He walked through the hall, carrying his rifle in one hand. Scout ran past. "Hey, yo Snipes! Ya comin' to celebrate?" She asked, grinning as she slowed to a walk beside him.

"No." 

"Aww, come on, man! You never do!"

"And Oi'd loike to keep it that way." Sniper muttered, turning left down the hall.

"Hey, have you seen Spy? I can't find the slimy bastard anywhere!"

"Not my problem." Sniper stated flatly, walking off.

"Well thanks for your goddamn help, chucklehead!" She scoffed, running off towards the rec room.

Sniper made it to his van without any more interruptions. Tossing his rifle and Kukri, and vest onto the couch, he sat down on the bed with a sigh.

Fifty seven. That was the number of mercenaries, people, he'd killed in the four months he'd been in this stupid war. One was more than enough. He'd killed many, and seen many killed. So many different faces, here and gone in such a short time. The only one that had been around longer than him was their Spy, an elusive man that kept to himself often, never revealing his emotions or feelings. 

Spy killed without showing sorrow or remorse, but without the crazed glee or some of the mercenaries either. He was different than the rest. He was... intriguing.

Sniper took off his hat and tossed it onto the couch from where he sat. Removing his aviators, he set them down gently on the small nightstand. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the war, other than the killing.

After a few minutes, he drifted to sleep.

 The BLU Scout ran through his line of sight, and he watched the quick BLU sprint across the field. The BLU paused for a fraction of a second, and Sniper pulled the trigger, watching as the boy's head blew open.

He grimaced, feeling nauseated. He'd never killed anybody before and this, this was horrifying. Gently setting down his rifle, the Aussie stood, removing his hat and giving a moment of silence for the kid. 

He sank to his knees and vomited a moment later.</I>

Sniper woke up, sweaty and clammy. It was always the same dream, and it would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. The first time he'd ever killed someone, and it was a kid. In his early twenties- still young. Nobody deserved to die like that. Not even the worst people in the world.

Sniper glanced at the clock. Just past midnight. He was too shaken up to go back to sleep. Sniper got up out of bed, getting a glass of water and drinking it hastily. Sinking down onto the couch, he sighed quietly. 

A minute later, he stood up (and put on his vest out of habit), needing to get fresh air. He stepped out if his van, sitting down on the small steps.

He could hear the sounds of wild celebration echoing out of the base. How could they celebrate when their teammates had died? How could they celebrate knowing they killed someone? Someone with a family? Someone with their whole life in front of them?

He stood up, fixing his shirt. Walking towards the base, he frowned. What the hell was he even doing?

He opened the door to the rec room. Demo was sprawled across the couch, drunk out of his mind like usual. Soldier and Engineer were laughing and dancing drunkenly on the table together, Heavy and Medic were both playing rock, paper, scissors, Scout was leaning against the wall, grinning, drink in hand, and Pyro was dropping matches into bottles of alcohol and laughing wildly. Spy was nowhere to be seen.

Scout noticed him and grinned. "Hey there Snipes! Ya look like ya could use a drink!"

Sniper shook his head. "Oi'm gonna pass."

"Aw, come on! Just one little drink?" She giggled and hiccuped.

"No."

She smiled and staggered over to him. "Hey there, handsome~ never seen you around here before~ you got a name?"

"Scout, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying." Sniper took a step back. He really did not want to get involved with anybody. Besides the fact that she would be just another face that passed by, here for maybe a week and then gone, she was only about half his age. 

She giggled again. "I like ya name~"

"..." Sniper backed out of the room. Where was Spy? Perhaps there was one person in this base that he could actually talk to and have a proper conversation.

Sniper headed down the hall where most of the mercenaries' rooms were. Stopping in front of the one with Spy's logo, he paused. 

A soft noise was coming from inside that sounded like... crying?

"Spook?" He called softly, knocking twice.

"Go away..." Spy replied, sniffing softly. 

"Are- are you alroight?"

"I zaid 'go away'." Spy replied, more harshly this time.

"What's wrong?"

"Nozhing."

"Spook, Oi'm coming in."

"Don't you dare, bushman!"

Sniper opened the door and stepped into the small room. Spy was sitting on his bed, an open manilla folder in his hands. 

"What's the matter, Spook?"

"Are you deaf, or just stupid, bushman? I said zat nozhing was wrong!"

"People don't cry over nothing, mate..." Sniper said quietly, sitting down beside him.

Spy sat there dejectedly, wiping at his tears and sniffing softly, staring down at the folder's contents.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly, putting a hand on Spy's shoulder gently.

"Mon frère... My brozher... 'e was killed today... On ze field..." Spy sniffed, looking down, gloved fingers gently touching the page.

Sniper followed his gaze down to the folder, and his heart skipped a beat. 

The familiar face of the now-deceased RED Spy looked back up at him.

----------

Sniper gently patted Spy's back, worry crossing his face. "It's okay, Spook..." It wasn't okay. What if Soy found out who did it?

"No, it's not okay! I don't even know who killed 'im!"

Sniper breathed an internal sigh of relief. 

"Zat means I cannot even avenge 'is deazh..." 

"Oi'm sure you'll... foind out who did it eventually..."Sniper said, trying not to sound nervous.

Spy nodded sadly. "But zen zey may be dead... Or I may be dead..." He sniffled again and wiped his nose with his glove. 

"It'll be alroight..." Sniper said again.

Spy let out a quiet sob. "No... It will never be alright!" He turned to Sniper, hugging him and sobbing into his vest.

Sniper froze, unsure of what to do. Emotions weren't something he trusted. What if he got involved with someone? What if he became friends with the Spook? What if it was something more? He'd slip away, die, be gone, just like the others...

"Spook... Oi... Oi should go..." He said quietly. Spy hugged him tighter at his words. "Please, mon amour, don't go..."

Mon... amour? Sniper couldn't remember what that meant in French. Did it mean friend? Love? Enemy? Bushman? He sighed quietly and gave in. "Oi'll stay... Foine..." 

Spy nodded softly. "Z-Zank 'ou... 'Ou are ze only one who cares at all about me on ze team, Sniper... Ze ozhers are getting drunk, staying up late, celebrating for vhat? Celebrating zhat anozher 'uman being, who 'as a family, is dead?" He murmured, tears soaking Sniper's shirt.

The butterfly knife weighed heavy in Sniper's pocket, deepening his guilt. "Oi understand you, Spook... Oi do more than you could ever know..."

Spy looked up at him, tears in his eyes. "You... You do?"

Sniper nodded. "We kill real people, day after day, for what? Money? Hey go and celebrate what? Another person, another real human being, is dead? Congratulations, you killed someone. What do you want? A fucking cake? A medal?" He frowned, done with his mini-tirade.

Spy sat back and looked at him. "You are right, mon ami..." Ami? What did that one mean?

"Oi am? Oi mean, it's just the way Oi see things..." Sniper blushed. Why was he getting so flustered? His emotions were taking over reason. Stop. He'll be gone soon, just like the others. You're being stupid. He probably only thinks of you as a friend! You don't love him anyways! He could never love a man like you either, so what's the point of loving him just to get your heart broken? Sniper insisted to himself. But his heart knew different. And his heart made him mind want to do stupid things, like lean forwards and kiss him. Which he was doing. Shit.

Spy leaned in as well, and their lips softly connected. Shit, Sniper! What are you doing, ya bloody idiot? This goes against everything you've ever stood for in this stupid war! Sniper tried to push the thoughts away, but they wouldn't stay down. When they broke apart, Spy was smiling and his face was practically glowing. "I... I love you, Sniper..."

Sniper smiled softly. It wasn't genuine, but Spy didn't know that. "Oi love you too, Spook." He couldn't look at the Frenchman as the five-worded lie rolled off his tongue. 

Spy hugged him, an expression of pure happiness spreading across his face. 

"Spook, wait..." Sniper knew how to end this. He knew how to get the Frenchman's love away from him. 

Spy sat up and looked into his gray eyes. "What is it, mon amour?"

"Oi... Oi did something..."

"Did what?"

Sniper sighed and pulled the small butterfly knife out of his pocket. "This is yours now, mate..."

Spy took his brother's knife, running his fingers over the small J.P.L. carved into the hilt. "So... It was 'ou who killed 'im?"

Sniper nodded softly.

Spy stared at him for a long moment, and Sniper waited for him to react. 

Quietly, the Spy reached forwards and hugged Sniper. "I can forgive 'ou..." He whispered softly.

No, that would be cruel.  

But love is a cruel thing itself!</I> Sniper felt like his mind was splitting in two. He had to do something. The Spook would die, or he would die. One way or another, things would move on soon. It was best to just leave r be, for now.

"Spook?" Sniper began. It had been three days since Spy had confessed his love for him. It was the middle of a battle, but Sniper couldn't put it off any longer. He was going to say it. He was going to crush he Frenchman's dreams.

"Oui?"

No. He couldn't. He couldn't do it. But he didn't want to live his final days, weeks, months, however long it took- as a lie. 

"Oi..."

Spy looked to him. "You what, bushman?" He asked softly, the voice one would use with their lover.

"Oi can't do this..." There. He said it. 

"You can't... What?" Spy's voice was full of hurt. This. This is why Sniper didn't do emotions; didn't do feelings.

"Oi can't loie to you any longer. Oi'm sorry..."

"Lie about... What?" Spy asked cautiously, voice catching.

"Oi... Oi don't love you... Oi can't... Oi'm sorry..." Of all the emotions Sniper had lied about recently, sorry was not one of them. 

"But... Sniper..."

"Oi'm sorry..." Sniper repeated softly, before heading off in the opposite direction.

He walked towards his roost, not paying much attention. "See you in Hell, wankah!" He heard the other Sniper yelled.

Then, everything went black.