1 . Name: LadyStingray @ 2011-07-20 20:13

Hi guys. I haven't posted any work here before. I'll just stick some Sniper/Spy here and carry on if people like it. Spy may seem a little ... out of character, if so I'm sorry, but it should improve.

I'm not overly sure about my ability to write so if you have any crit it is welcomed.

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Cosmic

Four years since the end of their contracts. Four years since RED and BLU’s mercenaries had been replaced by people younger and more agile, their wish to trade skilled and experienced men with floundering no-hopers, it seemed. Four years since the two teams had separated without so much as a glance back at the opposing base. Apart from him. He had looked back. He had looked back for hours in the hope somebody would be doing likewise. But they were not there.

A subtle rejection, but not subtle enough. Spy had wanted to fall to his knees and weep. His heart had ached as if a hand was crushing it into a bloody pulp, but he did not show this internal torment to his colleagues, whom were hoisting their bags into a bus that had arrived to take them to the nearest city. Instead, he watched them depart, knowing full well he would never see any of them again. But his mind was focused on one man, one who was probably half way to the airport by now. After several minutes, he dropped his cigarette, crushed it into the sand, then strode across 2Fort’s bridge into RED’s base. Empty, as expected. Spy did his best to ignore the disappointment that was welling in his chest anyway. It did not matter if the RED Sniper was gone. It did not matter that he had not tried to say goodbye. Spy would find him. He would find out why.

The Administrator had issued questionnaires to the teams two days previously. It was a meagre attempt at a sign of goodwill, and a decent attempt at being nosy. She did not care for the men, but naturally she wanted to know what they would be doing after finishing their contracts, perhaps to fill out a government report or fill in their decrepit old employer. Spy found them in the room that would normally harbour the intelligence, thrown carelessly onto the desk. He eagerly delved into the pile of sheets and flicked through them, stopping when he found a small bundle with a crosshair in the corner. Naturally, there were several ring shaped coffee stains smothering the Sniper’s papers. They were horribly crumpled as if he had squashed them into a ball at some stage, but his writing was no less discernable.

His answers were short and crass, not in the least bit helpful or informative, especially in his answers in regards to his plans for the future, which was probably his intention. Spy despaired, running a gloved thumb over the messy scrawl. Hope drained from his heart like air would escape from a balloon. There was no clue where the Sniper was going, where he would be in several hours at the end of his flight.

The masked man held the papers to his chest and groaned, unwanted tears forming in his clenched eyes. His cigarette fell to the floor, all but forgotten about.

He finally found him sat on the barn roof, staring at the night sky with a small, contented smile on his face. His thoughts were occupied with profoundness, it showed in those dark eyes that glimmered softly in the light of the stars. It was a gorgeous night - not a cloud to be seen, and a gentle, chilly breeze tugged at Spy’s suit. He knew that Harvest was his friend’s favourite base, if not for the ideal sniping spots, then for the place it was positioned. A desert. A constant smell of hay and bread. Perhaps it reminded him of home.

“Gonna go travelling, mate,” Sniper said, not turning his gaze from the sky. The Spy, still stood, followed his gaze and smiled.

“Up there?”

A quiet chuckle. “One day. Gonna go and see the world, first. This job … it makes me realise that life’s too short. We’ve gotta see what the world has to offer before we kick it. Y’know, the things we haven’t ruined yet.” He paused and finally turned his smile to Spy. The latter’s chest filled with a vibrant warmth as their eyes met. “That’s partly why I pissed off to the Outback. Did I ever tell you that? Nah. Was tired of all the bullshit. Saxton Hale this, Saxton Hale that. Like hell was I growing a creepy moustache just to look like that drongo.”

Spy sat. No longer could he feel the slight sting of the cold breeze. His knees were shaking, not from cold, but from the warmth in his heart that was nearly restricting his breathing. It was a mystery why the man made him feel so unlike himself, like a totally different person, but it was a good mystery, nonetheless.

He felt smarter, but also stupider. Brave, yet cowardly. Nothing made sense. He didn’t care. This feeling was too good, too rare, too cosmic to try and make sense of. But everything felt in place when he could feel the heat emanating from Sniper’s skin. It felt right when he smiled. It was comfortable. Even though Spy did his best to maintain his usual demeanour and manner of speaking, the attempts usually came tumbling down. He didn’t mind.

“And yet,” he drawled, accepting a cigarette from his friend, “you still managed to wrestle wild beasts with your bare hands.”

“Couldn’t fight the urges. It’s the natural instinct of Australians to do that kinda stuff. Haven’t you ever got yourself into some fight before? Outside of workin’ for BLU, I mean.”

Spy took a deep drag from his cigarette and closed his eyes, smirking slightly. “I am far above primitive behaviour such as that. I fight when I have to, for worthy causes.”

“Prim, boring old ponce sounds more like it,” Sniper mumbled. The assassin looked about himself for a moment, before meeting his friend’s gaze yet again with a thoughtful frown. “And what would you consider a cause worth fightin’ for?”

Four years. To the day. No sign of Sniper to be found.