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slocumjoe · 1 year

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Can you do a companions react to a sole with poor fine motor skills that is really skilled in battle but can't do stuff like open can tabs or walk in a straight line or has trouble lile tying their shoes?

- Leaf anon 🌱

Cait; Wouldn't think much of it. She was an addict, she's known lots of other addicts, she's known raiders. People who's heads get messed with, either with substance or by getting hit too much. Fighting and shit like grabbing a door handle are different. Her worry is that they'd need their motor skills in a fight, or in a retreat...Cait would gripe about helping them with anything if they ask, but she can respect someone who's useful when it matters.

Codsworth; Would offer a hand whenever they looked like they needed it, but otherwise wouldn't comment or acknowledge it. It would feel very improper. They've got things handled most of the time, and if they aren't in pain, he doesn't need to worry. Would consult wasteland doctors if he felt they were legit, get their opinion, but Codsworth isn't the type to micromanage.

Curie; Worried mama hen. Curie would hover and possibly overstep. She means well, but if you don't want help with something, and don't need it, someone insisting they help is very 🙃🙃🙃. This is the first time I've used emojis in a react, only because I cannot describe the emotion those ones convey. Anyway. Curie would look into motor skills disabilities/in general in hopes of finding a way to remedy their struggles, make things easier. Some people might appreciate it, others would feel really patronized.

Danse; Would send them to Cade every time they returned to the Prydwen, just to check up on things. Obviously can't so that post BB. Danse has probably seen this before as well, but since he'd be traveling with them, he'd see it more and in different ways. Small corridor and they can't walk straight? His power armor is huge and lacks agility. They're bumping into each other. This would be an exercise in spacial awareness for him.

Deacon; one of the more worried ones. They're both spies. They need to be sneaking. You need to be able to move straight, pick locks, quickly type on keyboards. He's pleasantly surprised to see that Sole is still good at what they do, but there's always a little part of him waiting for that Chekov's Gun to go off. Also tends to hover around them, especially in hostile areas.

Gage; Don't let anyone know they have this issue and Gage is fine. Raiders will sniff that kind of thing out and get dollar signs for eyes. Walk straight the best you can, or play it off as a personality eccentricity. Don't say shit, don't go for soda in public. Very confused how they beat the Gaunlet. Very confused how they have such a high kill count. Will only help them out if its time-sensitive.

Hancock; Takes him...so long to notice. Not because he's high, he just fully doesn't realize it. He spends time around alcoholics and chemheads. Like Cait, that's just...normal for him? Hancock will offer help with some things, and still not notice what kind of help he's actually providing. He'll realize out of the blue one day and barge into the room asking if they have problems, just to make sure he's right.

MacCready; As long as he's the sniper, there's no reason to worry. If they start eyeing scopes to add to their guns, he might sweat a little. If they're a pickpocket type, he's just sweating. Pickpocket, sweating bullets. This would turn MacCready off crime, watching them try to sneak whatever from someone's pocket, when just three minutes ago, they had to bite their bag's zipper. Leave the precision stuff to him. Please. Please for the love of god.

Nick; Look at either of his hands. He probably doesn't have such great motor skills there, either, purely because he's just so old and banged up. This is a major source of bonding. Nick is the least likely to have any worry or concern for them; he gets around fine, so can they.

Preston; Second longest to notice. Faster than Hancock, but it still long enough for him to wonder if they were always like that, or if they're injured in some way. His concern comes before combat—they fight just fine, its the getting ready. Flicking their safety off, getting the gun out, reloading. Preston tends to go in front, so they have some time to prepare before they get into the action.

Piper; Like Preston, worries about transitional periods. Downtime, they're fine, firefight, they're fine. But those little moments in between, oooh, does Piper worry. Piper will keep count of how many bullets they use and let them know to reload, switch to something else, etc. Basically tracks all the info around, gets it to them so they have a few extra seconds to think and fiddle with whatever they have to.

X6-88; They are forbidden from heights. They are to remain at least ten feet away from more than a three-foot drop. Area too small? Understood, we're not going there, we're leaving. No, I don't care who asked for what. X6-88 hates heights as is. Someone pirouetteing their way off an edge is not happening. He truly does not care about anything else. Can't open things? Whatever. Bad with precision? Whatever. You can't walk straight, you are not going near ladders, bridges, scaffolding, cliffs, maybe even stairs if he thinks they're too tall.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #piper wright #nick valentine #companions react #robert joseph maccready #x6-88 #porter gage #codsworth

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nevadancitizen · 9 months

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“debts to pay: sight for sore eyes”

synopsis: Schaeffer is dead. you only want to celebrate, but multiple people come along to piss in your cereal – including one of the Vox Populi.

word count: 1.8k

characters: könig, sniper! reader

trigger warnings: n/a

notes: lol i was literally in mexico that’s why this chapter took so long soz 😭😭

chapters: one / two (you are here!)

The computer screen in front of you confirms your suspicions. A smile settles across your superior’s face as she claps your shoulder in a comforting way.

The headline reads, The Vox Populi Falls Quiet Following Daisy Schaeffer’s Death. There’s also pictures of the revolutionary in black and white, her birth and death date below them. It would be a sad sight if you weren’t so relieved.

Your superior pulls you into a tight side-hug. You bat at her shoulder, smiling. “Colonel Fitzroy!”

“Oh, does it not bring a smile to your face to see her dead?” Fitzroy asks, laughing. “The Vox Populi are scattered.”

You hum in agreement. “It’s a sight for sore eyes, ma’am.”

Fitzroy sighs, but it’s not in a relieved or happy way. She lets you go and steps behind her desk, pulling out a thick manila folder from a drawer. She meticulously pulls out papers from the folder and puts them on the desk.

“Okay, the time for celebration will come, but for now, we need to work.” Fitzroy turns the papers on the desk so that they’re facing you. They’re all scans of handwritten notes – some even have the outlines of post-its. One of the papers on top details Fitzroy herself.

Your eyebrows furrow. “What is this?”

“This is what we know the Vox Populi knows.” Fitzroy points to the papers. “They know most of our operators. I slipped up and now they know me.”

She picks up a few papers and puts them on the top, pointing to the names. “They even know most of our spies. And they have suspicions on what connections they have – they’re trying to pick out the other spies.”

You look up and meet Fitzroy’s dark, brown eyes. They’re swirling with well-hidden, barely-there panic. She looks down at the papers before you can see more.

“How do we have this information?” You ask.

“We have a plant,” Fitzroy says. “Not everyone that’s in the Vox Populi wants to be there. There’s a man named Carlos – his wife joined and he was forced to go with her. But, lucky for us…” She holds up a small, black, blocky device with a small screen on it.

You stare at it for a second. “Is… is that a glucose monitor?”

Fitzroy levels you with a blank stare. “Yes. I’ve recently been diagnosed with diabetes.”

“Are you –”

“No, I’m not serious!” Fitzroy presses a few buttons and presents the small device to you. “It’s a tracker, idiot. Carlos has a tracker sewed into the sole of his shoe. He lets us see where they’re gathering, where they’re hiding – everything that’s location-based, Carlos gives us with this tracker.” She puts the tracker down on the table.

“Then what’s with the papers?” you ask.

“That’s… also Carlos,” Fitzroy says. “A lot is riding on Carlos staying alive, you understand? He’s climbed the ranks so we can tear them down.”

You look up at Fitzroy. “Why are you telling me this?”

Fitzroy’s eyebrows furrow. She almost looks sad. “You… are an accomplished operator. And I know you joined us to make a difference. And that’s what you’ve done by killing Schaeffer – you have made a difference –”

“Colonel, answer me! Why are you telling me this?”

Fitzroy looks at you for a second. Her eyes crinkle as she grimaces slightly. A long moment passes before she speaks again.

“I’m sending you to infiltrate the Vox Populi.”

“You what –”

“You are one of the only operatives they don’t know about. You are efficient, polite –”

You stand from your chair. “Colonel Fitzroy, with all due respect, I don’t think I’m fit for this position. I am a sniper, not a spy. And I didn’t even want to be a sniper.”

Fitzroy stands in response. “Don’t say that. I am the one who molded you into who you are today. You are an excellent operative. You will carry this mission out as I say, when I say, where I say. You will kill the Vox Populi.”

You stare at her. You no longer see a Colonel – no longer see your Colonel. This is a woman of desperation. She will do everything in her power to suffocate this spark that’s becoming a wildfire, because she knows the fire will be hot and vengeful, and filled with blood and brimstone.

“How?” you say softly.

Fitzroy looks down at the papers and reorganizes them. “Do you see someone not on my desk? A person they don’t have notes on? That they don’t know of?”

You look down at the papers, skimming over the descriptions of operators and glancing over the pictures only a few of them have. You look back up at Fitzroy after a minute. “No.”

“König,” she says simply. “It’s König that’s missing.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What does he have to do with this?”

“They don’t have info on you. They don’t have info on König.” Fitzroy sighs. “They leave us no choice but to have you two work together.”

“Not happening.”

“It will happen,” Fitzroy says sternly. “It would be suicide if you went on your own.”

“It’ll be suicide if you send me with him!” You do your best not to roll your eyes. “I’m serious. We’ll probably do that thing where we pull the trigger at the same time and kill each other. How do you see this as a nonissue?”

“Because it won’t be, if you behave yourselves,” Fitzroy says. “Listen. This is the next-to-last choice we have.”

“What’s the last choice?” You ask. “Because I think I’d rather take that.”

Fitzroy stays silent for a moment. “We give up. Let the Vox Populi kill us. And that won’t happen. Do you understand your assignment?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Dismissed.”

You suppress the urge to slam the door off its hinges when you exit Fitzroy’s office. Instead, you shut the door softly, making sure it clicks back into place. You clench your hands into fists, then let go when the pressure becomes too much.

As you walk, your eyes are glued to the floor and your thoughts in a loop. Why don’t you just kill König and have it over with? Or expose yourself to the Vox Populi, but in a way that looks like an accident so KorTac doesn’t fire you? Or maybe just shut yourself in your room and rot and let the Vox Populi take what they want?

Slowly, the tile floor turns into concrete and the cold air conditioning disappears. Your thoughts have brought you outside, away from base.

You look around. The streets are only sort-of crowded, but they’ll surely start bustling in an hour or so as the nightlife of the city begins. The heat from the bodies around you only exaggerate the already warm air. You slip into the nearest bar to cool down (both figuratively and literally), if only for a minute.

The bar is off to the side. Music and talking and the sound of shakers being shaken fills the air. It’s nice. Comfortable.

You slide into a seat and manage to flag down a bartender. You order something simple, a quick drink that goes down easy. Your eyes flicker to the television in the corner. It’s showing a college football match that no one seems too excited about.

Someone sits next to you. You don’t turn to face them, but you can tell that they’re big, imposing, and warm. It’s not even that you’re sitting that close – they just exude heat like a furnace.

They say your name.

You turn just the slightest bit. Of course it’s him.

“König.”

He’s wearing a black surgical mask and a hoodie with the hood pulled over his head. A few strands of dull orange, wavy hair peek out. Even in a bar (somewhere that most people will forget they even visited) he’s still doing his whole ‘I don’t want anyone to look at my stupid fucking face because I probably look like an elephant’s cunt’ routine.

“Did you hear?” König asks. “About our assignment.”

“Yes,” you respond. “Why did you follow me?”

König scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I didn’t follow you. Fitzroy said you’d probably be at High Velocity.”

“Yeah, and I like it here because no one really talks to other people at sports bars unless they’re rooting for the same team,” you say and look over at the television.

“Right, whatever,” he says.

The bartender drops off your drink with a smile. You give a quick ‘thank you’ and payment before you take a sip. The drink is sweet and goes down smooth.

“Did you get any more details other than who we’re working with?” You ask. “Did they tell you about Carlos?”

“Yes,” Konig says. “And his… role in this play.”

He’s careful with his words, you can tell. Probably because you’re in public.

There’s silence for a while, except it’s not really silence. Around you, people are talking, laughing, having a good time. It feels like you’re in a bubble with König, with nothing but your drink as good company. You don’t even risk shattering the quiet.

You glance around. There’s a sorority welcoming a new sister with a round of pink pussy shots. A couple of men drinking beers dressed too nice for the bar they’re in – they probably came straight from work. A guy trying to chat up two really bored-looking girls.

Ah. There it is. You knew you could feel something.

A pair of eyes are staring straight at you. They belong to a man hanging out with a group of people. They would be ordinary people, except for their shirts. Across the back, in bold branding, is an abstract design of a tsunami being fended off by people with large shields in a Roman turtle formation. On the bottom, it reads, ‘WE WILL NOT BE SILENCED BY THE WAVE’. It’s a quiet symbol and mantra that you recognize belongs to the Vox Populi.

You turn back to your drink and knock it back like a shot. You breathe out slowly and lean closer to König. The heat he exudes and the hate your heart exudes make it near impossible.

“There’s foxes about,” you whisper to him.

“What?”

You roll your eyes. “Fox… Vox…”

“Oh.” König glances around. “Why… is that an issue?”

“One of their men is looking at me,” you seethe. “We need to get out.”

König stands up, acting nonchalant. “Then let’s go.”

You stand and turn towards him, but make sure the man can still see your lips move. “Yeah, I’d much rather watch the game at home. It’ll be too crowded in here in, like, an hour.”

You fall in step with König as you both walk out of the bar and into the night. For a second, it’s like you do more than tolerate him. The feeling is disgusting and goes away almost immediately.

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mothnem · 3 months

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Scout's Guide to Building a Merc Team: Part 8- Soldiers

Scout: Hello Viewers! Sorry about the editing of the last one, Demoman stabbed me and I spent the night in the medbay. Sniper was nice enough to edit it and post it for me though so it wasn't late! I should watch it and see if any Spies show up in it. But enough about that! Soldiers! Every team needs one! They keep the team running! They're just... completely insane. Yes. Even compared to... some others of your Merc team.

Sniper: If you say so.

Scout: I do say so. Now, the best way to catch a Soldier, is to use their mating call.

Engineer: Oh good lord.

Medic: If you have less than two eyes you are volunteered!

Demo: WHY YOU!

Scout: I DON'T CARE WHO DOES IT!

Heavy: So Pyro could do it?

Scout: No. Engie would kill me.

Engineer: Darn right I would. But Demo, you're his best friend. So you have to do it.

Demo: I hate all of you, so much.

Demo is now standing outside, his shirt missing and he's painted red, white, and blue. His expression is one of pure annoyance.

Scout: Okay! Now start yelling!

Demo:.....

Scout: I SAID START YELLING!

Demo: OH BEAUTIFUL AMERICA! AMERICA IS THE GREATEST COUNTRY EVER! AMERICA IS... continues to yell about America.

Scout: Now, any second we should hear the call of the Soldier. It sounds like...

Soldier: SCREAMING EAGLES!!!!! Falls from the sky because of a Rocket Jump.

Demo: OH BEAUTIFUL FOR... Solly! How are you?

Soldier: I'M DOING MAGNIFICENT! I HEARD THE SOUNDS OF PEOPLE CHEERING ON AMERICA!

Demo: That was me.

Soldier: AND A MIGHTY FINE JOB YOU WERE DOING MAGGOT! LET'S KEEP THIS UP!

Both go back to shouting America's praises.

Scout: The good news is, we don't have to ask Soldier to join! He'll stick around Demoman from here on out! Tune in tomorrow to see if we have finally, caught us a Spy.

Spy appears behind Scout shaking his head. His face split with a mischievous smile.

#tf2 spy #tf2 demoman #tf2 scout #tf2 engineer #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #sniperspy #heavymedic #scout had a youtube channel #(author) ALMOST DONE WITH MY SELF IMPOSED CHALLENGE!!!!

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levi-venn · 11 days

Text

The First Toothpick

Chapter Seven: Blasterslingers

Characters: Cad Bane, Crosshair, Tech (Flashbacks), Jango Fett (Flashbacks)

Gen Fic - Mentor/Protege

Summary: Cad Bane teaches Crosshair how to be a sniper. The kid picks up some other habits as a result.

Chapter Summary: For the first time in his life, Crosshair disobeys orders

Read the previous chapters here:

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch7 | Ch8 (Coming soon)

Also Available on AO3

Night stalked the ranch, smothering the last orange sunlight with a glittery indigo blanket.

Cad and the kid sat in the belltower, their sniper rifles side-by-side as their scopes scanned the only road in or out of the ranch, waiting for Skatter’s gang.

The wheat field flickered blue as stalker lizards tested their luck, hoping to get at the fabools for an easy meal.

“How long will that shield last?” Cad quizzed.

“All night,” the kid said. “Or until someone shoots out three of the sensors.”

“Which Skatter will,” Cad added.

“Because he was the one who set them up,” the kid answered.

“Where will I be?”

“You’ll be on the ground, drawing fire away from the house and steer them into the mines we set up today.”

“And you?”

The kid sighed. “I will stay here in the tower and wait for your signal”

“Exactly.”

Of course, Cad had no intention on giving any signal. This was Cad’s fight, not the kid's.

"Are you sure the fabools will be okay?" the kid asked.

“Skatter knows their value, he ain’t goin’ anywhere near those fabools and Todo’ll take care of the stalker lizards. They'll stay right here n' aim for a short fight.”

The kid fidgeted with the settings of his scope. “When are they gonna be here?"

“No idea, but he’s comin’. And we’ll be ready.”

“Roger,” the kid said.

Cad fished a toothpick out of his pouch and…paused when he saw the kid pull a piece of brittle wheat from his jumpsuit pocket.

“Trade ya,” Cad said, offering his toothpick.

The kid’s eyes doubled in size like Cad just handed him a hundred credits. He took the toothpick and gave it an experimental pressure test between his thumbs. It held firm.

“Kashyyyk wood,” Cad said, flicking the piece of wheat out the window. “Takes a lotta punishment before it breaks. When you line up a difficult shot, clench down on it, then relax your jaw as you pull the trigger.”

The kid put the toothpick in his mouth and immediately wiggled it with his tongue.

“Don’t fuck around with it too much,” Cad huffed, showing him a second toothpick and putting it between his left main incisor and his front fang. “Rest it on your lip, slide in, let it hang. If ya gotta tongue it, just don’t be obvious. Too much jostlin’ makes ya look fidgety. Ain’t good for negotiations.”

“When will I need to negotiate anything?” The kid asked.

“When you take on your first bounty hunt,” Cad sneered.

It was a joke, but the kid’s eyes went round again with hope, then his whole expression deflated. “I'm a soldier. Soldiers don't hunt bounties.”

“Wouldn't count on anything bein’ a sure thing. Ya never know what life's got planned for ya, no matter what the Kaminoans say.”

The kid shrugged, the toothpick moving around a little, but no longer wiggling.

“Here,” Cad huffed and pulled out a cluster of toothpicks. “In case ya swallow that first one.”

The kid shot him an annoyed look, but Cad could see the underlying smirk. He took the toothpicks and opened up a pouch on his utility belt.

Cad spied a familiar wrapper in the pouch. A wrapper he would see littering the Firespray , when Jango was particularly stressed.

“That a starsbar? Thought you didn’t like candy.”

“It's not for me, it's for Tech. He has a sweet tooth when he gets stressed.”

The kid’s expression went dour and he tucked the toothpicks away next to the crumpled up candy bar.”

“You’re gonna see him soon,” Cad said, though he wasn't being paid to make the kid feel better.

“I’ve never been away from my brothers this long. Someone was always within touching distance. Even when Pynk pulls one of us into his office for reprimands, Hunter or I sneak into the vents to let our brother know they aren’t alone.”

“Who’s Hunter?”

“My oldest brother. I have three. Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech.”

Cad waited to hear this kid’s name.

The kid seemed to sense it and shrank away.

“Where do y’all get these names?”

“We just get them. Wrecker breaks things, Tech likes to say things like ‘technically’ plus he’s good at slicing. Hunter is a natural tracker. These names stick, and sometimes you can’t get rid of them. There is a cadet who got scared in training and ran screaming from a training droid. They call him Droid Bait. He’ll never be called anything else.”

Cad was starting to get it.

“So someone gave you a name ya don’t like, huh?”

The kid focused real hard on everything except Cad’s studious gaze.

Shit, I hit a nerve…not that I’m paid to- aw who am I kiddin’.

“Hey, kid,” he said with a gentle tone that was odd to his own ears. “ just tryin’ to-”

“Misfire.”

Cad blinked. “You’re shittin’ me.”

The kid shot him a look. “It’s not my name…or I mean…it isn't what my brother’s call me, but…it’s what everyone else calls me.”

“Well, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. When you get back to those cadets, you can shoot that name right between their eyes.”

The kid raised a salt and pepper eyebrow.

“Metaphorically speaking,” Cad sneered. “I ain't callin' ya Misfire. You're 'Kid'.”

“I like…Kiddo too,” the kid murmured.

Bane pointed his toothpick at the kid. “You're Kiddo only if you ain’t bein’ a lil shit. Cursin’ me in Mando’a when ya think I ain’t listenin.”

The kid’s sneer looked a whole lot like Bane’s.

“Roger that,” and the kid gave a sarcastic salute.

That little gesture he definitely got from Cad.

Call ‘em soldiers all you want, Jango, Cad thought. They’re still just kids n’ they deserve better than threats of retirement and bullies who're probably scared too.

“Am I your son?”

Cad almost swallowed his toothpick and he coughed it out into his palm. “What?”

“Skatter called me your son. You didn’t correct him.”

Cad knew that Skatter was trying to rattle Cad. Arguing would've made him look defensive.

But to this kid, Cad thought, born out of some fuckin’ test tube…shit, guess it looked like somethin' different.

“Do you want kids, Cad?”

Cad lifted his hat off his face. Jango always managed to ask him the damndest questions just as started to doze off.

“What?”

“Just a simple question from a simple man,” Jango hummed, gazing up at the stars.

“Ain’t nothin’ ever simple with you,” Cad snorted. “And no. Hell no. The hell am I gonna do with a kid in tow?”

“Start a legacy? Pass on what you’ve learned to someone who can grow beyond you?”

“There ain’t no legacy to be made,” Cad said. “I’m an orphaned Duros with whippin’ scars and a handful of bounties under my belt. No one’s gonna look up to this fuckin’ disaster.”

Jango turned his head towards Cad. He looked…disappointed. “You have more to give than you realize.”

“Yeah,” Cad frowned. “So ya keep tellin' me.”

"It's the truth, Caddy."

“Tell ya what. You make all the kids ya want and I’ll just be the fun uncle that hypes ‘em up with candy and a loaded blaster. Deal?”

It was supposed to be a joke.

But Jango still looked disappointed.

“Kiddo...” Cad started. It is was hard at those big watery human eyes. “If…you were my son, I’d tell ya that in this galaxy ya don’t have to be anything you don’t wanna be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a soldier now, but that don’t mean you gotta take any orders blindly. Question orders. Don’t walk in blind. If it don’t sit right, don’t fuckin’ do it. Trust no one. Keep your guard up. And…”

Caddy, seriously, don’t say it…Jango ain’t payin’ you to turn this kid into an anarchist like you.

“And...fuck the establishment.”

“What’s an Establishment?”

The woop woop woop of the alarms flashed on Cad’s gauntlet.

“Focus up, kiddo, we got company.”

***

“Technically,” Tech said, “Our father is Jango Fett since he supplied the DNA.”

“And our mom?” Crosshair asked.

“Hmm…I suppose she’s the pre-natal tank that preserved us during gestation.”

“What about Nala Se?” Crosshair asked. “She feeds us, tutors us, and she hums to Wrecker when he has trouble sleeping.”

“She is our caretaker.”

“In your book, the mom sang to the children.”

“What book?”

Crosshair pulled up Little House in the Big Field on his datapad.

Tech looked at the book, then looked at Crosshair. “We are clones, Crosshair,” he said, adjusting his brand new goggles that didn't quite fit his face yet. “We do not need parents like the children in that book. Our path is one of military efficiency. Those natborns are far more helpless than we ever were. They need nurturing to survive, we only need what is provided by this facility.”

“Oh,” Crosshair said, scrolling through the pages. He stopped at his favorite illustration, the little girl riding her father’s shoulders. They are both laughing.

“Does that make sense?” Tech asked.

“We’re clones,” Crosshair murmured. “We don’t need parents.”

“Crosshair...” Tech said.

Crosshair didn’t look up. The father in the book would do anything for his kids. He hunt puma, he built them toy forts, he gave them piggyback rides.

Tech leaned forward until he was in Crosshair’s vision. “We don't have parents. But we do have each other.”

Crosshair looked at his brother. Older than him, technically, but inseparable since birth. Crosshair liked to call them twins. Tech never corrected him.

“I know, Tech.”

Tech leaned his head against Crosshair's shoulder. “These goggles make my eyes hurt. Will you read tonight?”

“What book?”

“Whatever you want.”

Crosshair held up Little House in the Big Field .

"Acceptable."

Tech wrapped the blanket around both of them and Crosshair began to read.

Crosshair chewed on his toothpick, mindful not to move it around too much like Bane said. His aim was steady, the scope spewing out readings of the distance, speed, and predicted trajectory of the speeders charging down the winding road towards the ranch.

A month ago he’d be nervous. A month ago he’d hear “Misfire” echo in his mind.

Tonight, his mind was quiet. He was ready.

And more importantly, Bane believes I’m ready too. Just have to wait for his signal.

“Why can’t we shoot them now?” Crosshair asked.

“You got Skatter in your sights?” Bane asked.

“I do.”

“Shift your scope a little to the left, nearest speeder.”

Crosshair moved to the next speeder. It was full of dowutins.

“His people are loyal, and two of his cousins are in this gang. Killing Skatter ain’t gonna cut the head off the snake. It’ll only give away our position. Far as Skatter knows, this is still an ornamental tower with a weather vane.”

“I won't strike until you give the signal,” Crosshair promised.

“Atta boy.” Bane said.

Crosshair cracked a smile.

"Show time." Bane stood up, his spurs jingling as he walked backwards towards the fake chimney's chute. “See ya soon, kiddo.”

And with that Bane gave a sarcastic salute and dropped backwards and disappeared out of sight.

So wizard, Crosshair thought. He turned his attention to the rows of surveillance cameras.

For a few long moments, everything was quiet except for the distant hum of speeders approaching like an angry swarm of bees.

Crosshair could practically see the fight in his head. Any moment, Bane would appear, wide-brim hat lowered, hands resting on his blasters, maybe a tumbleweed rolling by. Bane would say something intimidating and badass that shook up the bad guys, then he'd give Crosshair the signal! Crosshair didn't know what the signal looked like, but it was probably equally badass. Then Crosshair would shoot the hats off all the outlaws and they’d run for the hills.

That’s how it happens in the holofilms he and Wrecker liked to watch.

And Bane was practically a living, breathing Wild Space holofilm star.

And I'm his trusty sideki-

An explosion rattled the fantasy out of Crosshair’s head. His chest shook, the whole house vibrated, and suddenly only four speeder were hurdling towards the ranch house. Three more explosions followed and Crosshair saw the shield flicker then die just as the speeders entered the wheat field.

Black smoke billowed out of the speeders, mixing with the gray plumes from the sizzling wheat stalks, filling the moonlit night with black and silver humorless clouds. Like blood red lightning, blaster fire pierced the night in a relentless barrage.

Todo zoomed by the tower, thrusters searing Crosshair’s vision as he dove towards the Fabool enclosure brandishing a pair of pistols. Stalker lizards hissed and skittered away as soon as he approached. Todo would keep the fabools safe for now, but this also meant Bane was alone.

The signal!

Crosshair looked at every monitor. There was no sign of the bounty hunter.

He peered through his scope, searching the field, the porch, everywhere and found no one.

Did I miss the signal? Is he waiting for me? Does he think I abandoned him?

There was too much smoke, too much blaster fire in too many directions. It was loud and bright and confusing. He tried to peer through his scope again, but another explosion turned his night vision a glaring white. He hissed in pain, blinking away the dancing lights in his retinas.

This wasn’t the plan. He and his brothers had ninety-nine plans, but none of them applied to Bane and this situation.

The only plan Bane ever gave him was…keep firing and keep running.

Keep running. I can do that.

Crosshair went to the control panel and flipped every switch attached to a mirrored panel on the field, then slung his rifle over his shoulder and slipped out of the tower.

“There’s someone on the roof!” An instant later, the blaster fire surrounded Crosshair. He was used to live blaster fire during training, but he wasn’t used to this much coming from so many directions. He kept running, his eyes trained on the trellis on the edge of the roof. That was his first mission. Climb down. Reassess. Don’t stays stationary for long.

“Kid! Down!”

Crosshair didn’t think.

He didn’t look.

He acted.

Throwing himself belly down onto the roof, a rocket whistled overhead and exploded the back porch in a fiery blaze. The hiss of Todo's fire extinguisher coming a moment later.

Don’t stop. Keep moving.

Crosshair slithered towards the ladder, then descended awkwardly, nearly twisting his ankle in the thick vines. As soon as he landed, he spied Bane pinned by blaster fire behind his speeder, shooting his twin blasters blindly overhead. The top of his hat was smoking from a blaster bolt that had narrowly missing his head.

Crosshair stared wide-eyed at him.

They shot Bane.

Then he narrowed his eyes.

They fucking shot Bane.

Crosshair peeked around the corner. One speeder had hit a sensor mine and was smoking. The four remaining skidded to a halt and they were carefully making their way forward. Two more explosions went off. Crosshair counted ten outlaws remaining.

The speeder that shielded Bane was also blocking them both from using the mirrored panels.

Crosshair needed to draw the blaster fire away from Bane. If he could get to the field, he could regain his line of sight. All he had to do was run and not stop running.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Bane shouted over the blaster fire as if knowing what Crosshair was thinking. “Get back in that tower. Now. ”

Crosshair almost obeyed the order.

He should have. Bane was his mentor. His word was law.

But leaving Bane behind was not an option.

He took the rifle off his shoulder.

He gave Bane a sarcastic salute.

And he ran.

If he saw an outlaw in the reflection of a mirror, he fired. If he missed, he fired again. If he hit the target, he kept running to seek the next target.

He fired one blaster bolt and hit three outlaws. Two of them went down.

That was so wizard…wait, shit, I’ll celebrate that later…

...But I hope Bane saw it, too.

“Down!” He heard Bane shout and he slid just in time to watch a rocket sail over his head. He rolled forward and kept running and dodging.

He glanced behind him only once to find Bane standing atop the speeder, firing his blasters. One...two...three...four weequay went down in quick succession.

Crosshair took down the last weequay and that just left the dowutins and Skatter who was holding that damn rocket launcher that tried to blow up Crosshair twice.

The dowutins turned their attention back on Bane who ran towards the porch, ducking behind one of the pillars, his skinny form practically vanishing except for the flash of silver from his blasters.

One of Skatter’s cousins fell over onto Skatter who shoved him away.

“Bane!” Skatter roared, struggling to reload the launcher which seemed to be jammed. “You’re just wastin’ time. You can either leave now and the ranch survives or I just blow y’all up with this here launcher. Neither one of us wants that. Last warnin’!”

“The ranch’s mine, sleemo,” Bane shouted. “And your runnin’ outta boys a lot quicker than I am.”

“Then let’s even the playin’ field,” Skatter grinned, throwing down the launcher and pulling something small from his pouch.

Crosshair heard the familiar beep of a thermal detonator before he saw the red and blue flicker streak through the night sky.

It landed with a dull thud next to him.

Crosshair didn’t think.

He didn’t look.

He acted.

It was like he was outside of himself, instinct taking over as his hand snatch the det and flung it right back towards the dowutins.

Oh shit.

Crosshair rolled behind one of the mirror panels which provided...no cover at all.

Shit.

He hugged his rifle against his chest protectively.

The concussive blast hit him before the deafening sound slammed against his eardrums. He was airborn. His body went into cold shock, then screamed in pain.

He landed hard on his back, his vision was doubling, quadrupling, there were too many stars in the sky and they were all swimming at nauseating speed.

Through the ringing in his ears, he thought he heard more blaster fire and then nothing at all.

Everything had gone quiet.

Which meant either he went deaf or the fight was over.

A figure loomed over him, blacking out the blurry stars.

“Looks like your bell got rung, kiddo,” he heard Bane say, a flash of white fangs told Crosshair he was smiling.

“Is it over?” Crosshair coughed.

“Well ya blew Skatter and his cousins to pieces. So yeah, I’d say it’s as over as it gets.”

Crosshair started to sit up to get a better look at the carnage. Bane blocked his path. “Ain’t no reason to see that shitshow right now. Can ya stand?”

“I am standing,” Crosshair said only to realize that not only was he still sitting, but the ground felt like it was made of mashed potatoes.

“Climb up.”

Crosshair blinked up at Bane. “What?”

“Climb up.” Bane repeated, kneeling down and patting his own back. “Up.”

Crosshair’s eyes went wide. “I can have…a piggyback ride?”

Bane’s head tilted, one brow ridge raised “A what?”

“Nothing!” Crosshair lunged forward and clung to Bane’s neck. Bane hooked his arms under Crosshair’s leg, lifting him easily.

Pressing his cheek against the rough leather collar of Bane’s coat, Crosshair looked over at the smoking speeders. There was a piece of…something charred on the ground. He quickly decided to look the other way, towards the Fabool enclosure where Todo had managed to chase off the rest of the stalker lizards and was repairing the shield.

Bane crossed the threshold into the house and the smoky night air was replaced by the warm scent of wood and remnants of the stew Bane made them that afternoon.

Crosshair wondered if this is what the house from Little House in the Big Field smelled like?

Bane knelt beside the floral couch that neither Bane nor Crosshair used since he arrived. The couch was stiff and smelled musty, clearly for decoration. Bane pulled the quilt off the back of the couch and draped it over Crosshair's shoulders. It was surprisingly soft and warm, and unlike the couch it smelled clean, faintly of fabric softener and lavender. The weight of it felt like a gentle hug.

For the first time since the bell tower, Crosshair felt like he could breathe.

Bane pulled out the med kit hidden under the couch and examined Crosshair’s wounds. There were scrapes all over his body, his head was sticky with blood, and apparently a piece of shrapnel stuck out of his calf that Crosshair didn’t feel until Bane tugged experimentally at it.

Bane left the shrapnel alone and started with the cut on Crosshair’s head. “Well, my contract didn’t say nothin’ about bringin’ ya back unharmed, but think this’ll be gone by the time I do bring ya back.”

Crosshair lowered his eyes and said nothing.

Waiting...

Bane stopped dabbing at the cut on Crosshair’s forehead. “Kid? You get your ears blown off?”

Crosshair kept waiting.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about your fuckin’ percentages tonight of all nights.”

Crosshair raised his eyes briefly. “I disobeyed your orders.”

“Ya sure did,” Bane hummed, dabbing bacta over the wound and then pulling out tweezers to pull the shrapnel from Crosshair’s leg. “And it was a fuckin’ dumbass move. I had a pair of traps I was gonna spring on the dowutins, just needed them to come a lil closer. You runnin' out into the field like a wild heaadless chicken stopped 'em in their tracks.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because,” Bane pulled the shrapnel out slowly, then soothed it with bacta gel. Crosshair hissed, but didn’t complain. “I didn’t count on Skatter forgettin’ those traps were there. He’s the one who planted them in the first place, the idiot. But that’s the thing, ain’t it? Can’t account for everythin’. Ya gotta be ready to improvise even in the best laid plans.”

“Oh…” Crosshair deflated. “I’m sor-”

“Shut up, kiddo,” Bane said, but his tone was gentle. He carefully wrapped the leg up in a soft bandage. “Don’t you go bein’ sorry for listenin’ to your gut. Fool decision or not, ya went for it. I had to improvise when you went runnin' and you improvised by blowin’ up Skatter and his cousins to smithereens. Woulda liked to pull the trigger on Skatter myself, but hell I ain’t interested in a vengeance plot unless I’m gettin’ paid for it.”

Crosshair was quiet for a moment. “So I did good?”

Bane threw Crosshair a sideways smile, baring his pearly fangs. “Ain’t no good fishin’ for compliments in shark-infested waters, kiddo.”

Crosshair smirked. “Fine.”

“How do you think you did?”

Crosshair immediately went to the numbers. “My percent-Ow! Haar’chak !”

Bane shot him with antibiotics without warning.

“Fuck the numbers,” Bane said. “How’d it feel?”

Crosshair rubbed his sore arm. “Good. Scary, but good. Didn’t stop when I missed a target. I lined the shot up again and again until I hit my mark. I drew fire away from you. That was my main mission. I don’t leave my own behind.”

Bane threw Crosshair a look, confused maybe, but Crosshair thought he saw a twinkle in those glowing red eyes.

"Huh..." Bane said thoughtfully, then sat on the floor, leaning against the couch. It looked like he was catching his breath, and Crosshair realized he had a few cauterized blaster bolt burns and some shrapnel in his own leg. “The lesson you should get outta this experience, kiddo,” Bane said as he tended to his own wounds. “is that you listened to your gut. It worked out this time and maybe that ain’t the case next time. Don’t matter. I’d rather die listening to my own instincts than risk my life on someone else’s orders that don’t sit right.”

“A good soldier follows orders,” Crosshair said. It felt like someone else’s words, but he didn’t remember where he’d heard it.

“Yeah, well, the best mercs often make the shittiest soldiers,” Bane said, and stood up with a pained groan. “Sit here and stay awake. Ya got a concussion and I ain’t lugging a comatose kid back to Jango.”

Crosshair’s heart sank. “You’re sending me back?”

“In a couple of days when you’re healed proper.” Bane raised an eyebrow. “I’d say taking out Skatter’s Ferocious Fourteen is about as good a test score as any. After tonight you’re ready for anythin’ Pynk throws at ya.”

Crosshair felt his heart twist in confusion. He missed Tech every day he was gone. He missed Wrecker and Hunter too, but…

...he missed his twin the most.

“Okay.”

Bane looked at Crosshair for a long time, brow furrowed, but not angrily. It was the kind of thoughtful look he had on Kamino when he talked to Jango about Crosshair’s future.

“Sit tight. Watch a holo. Don’t fall asleep. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

“Bane?” Crosshair asked as Bane started to walk away.

Can I be a merc?

Can Tech be a merc?

Can I bring my brothers with me and we can all be mercs? And not soldiers? And live by our guts and not by what Lt. Pynk says?

“Yeah, kiddo?” Bane asked, toothpick moving lazily in his teeth.

Would my brothers come with me if I asked them?

Crosshair already knew the answer.

He sank back into the couch.

“Thanks for training me.”

“I just did it for the credits, kiddo,” Bane said, tilting his head up and giving Crosshair a wink.

Crosshair rolled his eyes with a grin, then snuggled under the blanket and turned on the holoprojector.

He watched the entire Duros with No Name series before he was finally allowed to sleep.

#bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #tbb tech #bad batch tech #star wars the clone wars #cad bane #tbb #jango fett

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which-qsmp-egg-would · 8 days

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I’d love to hear your reasoning for some digimon partners!!! especially giving empanada veemon & pepito a caprimon that digivolves to gotsumon :D

AN EXCELLENT QUESTION ALLOW ME TO ANSWER.

Chayanne got the hyokomon like since it's a yellow chicken and training to be a warrior. They have similar motivations and personalities, I thought they would work together very well. I also considered giving him wormmon, but the reasoning was very loose so I decided otherwise.

Tallulah gets the gekomon line since they're musically based. I think the change from Otamamon to Gekomon parallels Tallulah's journey of love as well. I keep thinking about Tallulah in that attic holding onto Otamamon's egg, okay?

Dapper and Pomme's digimon don't really match with their personality or motivation or anything, but instead its more of a destiny thing! Lopmon and Terriermon always come together and so Dapper and Pomme are linked by fate. Its also one of those situations where it feels like Dapper should have Terriermon and Pomme have Lopmon, but it feels correct this way. Also. French Sniper. Gargomon has big guns.

Ramón got monimon because a little ninja TV that spies on people feels VERY fitting for that family. Monimon and Hagurumon are also very dumb on their own, but that wouldn't bother Ramón too much, I think. I also considered giving him the Kakkinmon line, since they are shield digimon, but I couldn't resist how cute Monimon was.

Leo got dogs. That's pretty much it. They struggle to get attached but once they do they are very attatched to their tamers, you know? Wolf. I also considered giving her Gabumon but I think her personality would overpower him too much.

Richarlyson got the Gomamon line purely because their mischief would line up PERFECTLY. Tell me Gomamon from Adventures WOULDN'T try to set up people on dates. I also thought about giving him Renamon but I.. don't quite remember why? Big protector? I guess?

For Pepito, its a Caprimon into a Gattsumon mostly because I couldn't find a preevolution for Gattsumon. I chose Gattsumon (because it's my favorite) because it feels very childlike, and very protective, and I think that's what Pepito needs. Gattsumon would color with Pepito. I can't explain it. I also considered Upamon and Armadillomon, since Upamon is a axolotl, but I couldn't resist my favorite rock baby.

Empanada got the Veemon line because I feel like their enthusiasm would align very well! They love to love and won't back down, you know? Also imagine Empa carrying Demiveemon like a stuffed animal. Exactly.

Sunny got Bowmon and Herissmon not only to match with Leo, but also because of how Herissmon avoids combat and runs/hides. And I think that it could keep our sunshine princess safe. I also thought about giving her Impmon, actually. Despite his demonic attitude, Impmon is actually such a sweet digimon to his trainers and also very lonely, which pairs with Sunny's feelings very well. Also, I imagine that Impmon's attempts at "warming up friends" wouldn't turn out so well and frankly would make things worse lmao. But I chose against Impmon for some reason. Weird.

Chunsik was a difficult one, I had a hard time finding anything for him. The bear was cute and protective and Chunsik is cute and tiny. Also, Wanyamon gets attached to people if they love him like an animal and. Chunsik is named after a cat, so. It was funny.

And finally Nacho. The Shaomon line is an artificial digimon that can't evolve past a certain point, gets attached very easily, and is very very loyal to their tamer. It fits very well. I also considered Pawn Chessmon (White) for obvious reasons, or Gammamon, for being a white dinosaur.

Thank you for the ask I am so thrilled does anyone else have a question 🖊

#not a poll #qsmp #qsmp eggs #I'm very very normal about this show

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vaxxman · 3 months

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Do you actually use the vacc all the time? Stock is better for taking out sentries, or no? (genuinely asking)

Please don't learn from my wannabe strategies, they are really not good and very beginner-ish. Actually good medic mains would probably cry at some things that I do. In short, no. It's the same for any other medic weapon, really.

(Really) long answer, which is based on an unreliable "2 months of playing medic nearly every day" is below.

All mediguns are situational, but I follow some personal rule of thumb that goes:

If on attacking team: Stock Medigun If on defending team: Kritzkrieg

(Depicted is the ideal situation shortly before your Kritzkrieg reaches 100%)

I'm not an asshole who denies a good team potential killstreaks with a Kritzkrieg. A good team deserves a good uber. But if that medigun set up doesn't seem to work out with my team (eg. my team is only Demoknights and Market Gardeners / the enemy team has a god-like sniper and is killing everyone at the same spawn door) and the flanking classes are more fit to actually do the objective, I will switch to a different set up.

If on attacking team: Vaccinator If on defending team: Quickfix

(Depicted is what Vaxx encounters 70% of matches on payload maps)

My reason for this is that both of these mediguns focus more on survival, rather than making sudden pushes for ground; ground that the entire team might not be able to keep. I strongly follow the credo of "Don't pocket", so these two fast charging mediguns are perfect for switching around patients during building and uber pop to make sure many people as possible profit from them. They are also much more hectic to play, so most of the time I will switch from Crossbow to Overdose, and from ubersaw to solemn vow, because I am much more vulnerable to spies and flanks from hyper focusing on everyone's healthbars and jumping across the map, trying to keep the team together. Vaccing scouts is incredibly fun, you couldn't imagine until you tried ("Hello Doc, this is Jeremy, your Uber driver to pick you up").

On payload, when my team is pushing, I generally use Vacc and am part of the cart pushing team, unless I see that the team work and positioning is good enough. Upon death I'll respawn with stock to help the power classes who are pushing at the frontline instead, because the cart heals, too, and I trust my team to not die. Sometimes, all it takes for your team to successfully move out and gain ground is some popped bullet resistances on the first person who is leaving spawn to make sure the snipers don't delete them before you even get to the cart.

When I say "play more aggressive as medic" I really just mean being able to stand in the crossfire more often and actively encouraging your patients to go into situations, because they can trust that your 75% resistance will let them survive it (also you just pop the bubble and stress them into GOING IN BEFORE THE EFFECT WEARS OFF). If you run into a sniper sightline and manage to get him to snipe at you while a bullet resistance bubble is popped, the rest of your team can follow you until the sniper has reloaded, and that alone may already have caused enough pressure for the sniper to leave his position. I like to think of Vacc and Stock as the fight-or-flight-reflex triggering mediguns, with Vacc being the medigun that seemingly locks people into battle with you, as people attempt to take you down with focus fire, while Stock causes everyone to flee. Dying with Vacc isn't too bad for your uber charge, and no healing for some seconds is a risk I am willing to take sometimes, if it means I'm drawing the enemies' attention away from my other team mates and wasting their ammo for the last push.

So tldr: Since I'm playing casual mostly, eventually I will use Vaccinator a lot because my alternative is to gamble that one or two players are competent enough to perform extremely well during an 8 second long uber. Yes Stock uber is the best for taking out sentries, but sometimes your team might not be the best for the job.

Whatever people say about medic gameplay being boring, I don't see it, it's super engaging, and extremely strategy heavy to me.

(Depicted are reasons why normal and sane medic mains use Stock vs why Vaxx uses Vaccinator)

#team fortress 2 #tf2 medic #tf2 #60 seconds till mission begins rambles #I know I sound extremely bitter in these rambles about team mates not being able to do blah blah I don't want to be condescending ok #I'm not actually angry I have a very healthy relationship to this game #I make sure I thank my team after every game because a medic's victory is never thanks to the medic alone #I don't like trashing my team!!! :(((#Still as that one class who literally stands behind others and watches their performance to assess the situation #If the team's progress hinges upon one single healer keeping everyong alive and giving one person god-mode for 8 seconds to even push #I don't think it's the healer - I think it's the team #and that's ok - that's what my vaccinator is for :)

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aprofessionalwithoutstandards · 6 months

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asking you this because you have good interpretations of the mercs:

what animals would they all be ?

im personally fond of bear heavy, rabbit scout, dog soldier, and cat spy even if they're all very obvious, but id love to know if u have more interesting answers

Hmmm much to think about... full disclosure I'm taking a bunch of inspiration from my sweet sweet boyfriend @skeletonsonparade 's old-ish furry designs

Scout: My brother has a very strong "Scout is a tarantula" headcanon and I need to hand that one to him Scout really is a tarantula

Soldier: I understand where dog Soldier comes from but tbh I think Soldier would also be a great horse

Pyro: Pyro

Demo: Boyfriend enlightened me to Demo tf2 badger design and waow I like that so much... idk I don't think someone Needs to be an animal that is from the country they are from that's lame BUT I think badger furry Demo is really cute bc u can make the face stripes like his facial hair and that's fun

Heavy: Yeah he's a bear. Tf2 canon wins this one

Engie: Idk I really love some kind of dog for him. He feels like a doggish kinda person. I can't articulate this further just understand my vision

Medic: Again my sweet sweet boyfriend has a deer/stag Medic design and I love that. I think wolf Medic is also pretty common but idk giving Medic "prey animal rage" ties in really well with how PLAYING Medic feels like. He's definitely something with antlers

Sniper: Cuppy dog city ahhh I wanna go

Spy: Cat Spy is sooo fun but I've also seen a ton of fox Spies before and I like that too. Cats cover the prissiness and foxes cover the wiliness very nicely. Every time fic makes his first name "Renard" I know what you are

#ask #anon #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 headcanons

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anonomi · 4 months

Note

sv_cheats 1

buddha

noclip

*goes into enemy spawn*

It is another beautiful round of pl_badwater and you are one unforunate Sniper.

You are standing among the shoulders of your teammates who bounce on their heels and chatter on and on about things you don't really care about. What's the point in asking about the weather? It never changes.

But you are bound by your duty, or by some otherworldly force that despises you as much as you despise it, to stand here in this spot right next to your Medic, who just won't stop jumping. Before you can turn and tell him that the squeaking of his boots and subsequent rattling of his backpack is more irritating than getting blown up, you see a dash of red in the corner of your eye. Something worth noting, considering you are firmly on BLU.

When you look, you almost wish you hadn't: sliding out of the walls like a mosquito materializing in your sight is, evidently, the RED Spy. He breaks space-time continum, crawling past the physical walls of spawn without so much as a grunt of exterion, all to plop himself down in the middle of your spawn. Only he doesn't drop.

He only hovers. Standing in the air. You eye him as does the rest of your team. You think he might be eyeing you back, but who knows what the hell goes on behind those vacant eyes of his. Not you, that's for sure.

The Voice in the ceiling sounds off and the gates open. You brace yourself.

Instantaneously the room erupts with a mixture of gunfire, explosions, and a lot of angry shouts. The RED Spy is nothing more than a cloud of hot ash and dark smoke. That is, until he surges to life.

You do the sensible thing and get the hell out of the way as he starts stabbing everybody. You run to the wall, as he is very occupied with shredding Heavy and Medic apart. This far, you can comfortably watch as your team dies over and over again at the hands of this, whatever this is.

"He always does this," Spy, who's drifted to your side, mutters. He looks at the proceedings with detached disdain. "But not without reason. What did you do?"

You roll your eyes at Spy, leaning over to dodge a stray arm from hitting you. Looks like Engineer's if the glove is anything to go by.

"What do you mean, what did I do? I was just standing here," you defend yourself. He thinks that just because you can instantly kill the RED Spy it's always your fault whenever he decides to mess with your team. As if he can't do the same. Damn spies.

"Really? Because I can remember three, no, five distinct times last round where I watched him get his head blown off. In a row."

You wince. Okay maybe he has a point there, but "It's my job."

Spy kicks at Engineer's arm. "We're supposed to be on Normal mode, not Expert. Hold yourself back or he's going to turn all of us into medics again or worse."

Spy shudders as he relives the day that the team has agreed to pretend never happened. "Take us to that blasted Smissmas map."

You don't think that map is so bad, lots of good sightlines, but the RED Spy's presence steals your attention before you can retort. You turn and there he is in all his blood-soaked, shambling glory. You can barely tell where the red of his suit ends and where the blood begins. Not that it matters to distinguish, since he's stalking towards you, vacant eyes watching you with predatory focus.

Spy swears. "See you around." And there he goes, running away under his cloak. The bastard. You are barely given enough time to curse him out before the RED Spy is on you.

After a few minutes or an hour, the time is lost in-between dying over and over, you finally wake up and stay alive longer than a few seconds. You blink and look around the spawn room. There is a lot of blood, but no spy.

"Is it over?" you ask. You falter. To your horror, instead of your rough and gravelly voice to greet your ears, it's a hideous velvety tone with an accent you can't shake. You look down and the floor is too close, but more importantly, you are wearing gloves. Calfskin gloves.

You are a spy. You look around to see the rest of your team has similarly metamorphized into spies. You can barely tell them apart, a horrid mix of fancy clothes and masks.

You fall to your elegant knees, holding your head in your hands. Of all the nine classes why, why? You look up at the ceiling but it isn't the Voice who answers you: before your eyes He descends from the ceiling once again, but this time he isn't a spy.

You look into the RED Pyro's vacant eyes as he readies his flamethrower. Not for the first time you wonder what you did to deserve this. Like always, there is no answer, only sizzling fire and white hot pain.

(later, when you are firmly back in your body and the seemingly endless cycle of the war rotates once more, you ignore Spy's advice and target his counterpart over and over. it's only fair.)

#the moral of the story is to never play sniper #tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 meta #tf2 offline practice #tf2 training mode #offline au #this is very cracky ngl hahah i am just in a happy mood #sorry if you wanted it to be more 'horrifying'! i think i might write an alternate version that is more serious.. sometime #i've just been doing it for so long sometimes i need to take it lighthearted hahah #training mode au #ty for the ask!#nomi writes #nomi answers #anon

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