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Sniper is the type to blend in. To go unnoticed, until you finally get just a glimpse of his character and start to crave more.
He’s nice. He’s somewhat sane, which is a welcome change of pace from your other coworkers. The man keeps to himself, really, though he’s sociable and friendly enough when he needs to be, seclusion just doesn’t bring him any discomfort. Not until late on some sentimental nights where he catches himself wondering if he isn’t missing out on something, though no one but him knows he has these doubts from time to time.
Snipes keeps his cool. And you feel comfortable around him, being the professional assassin that he is. Despite loving his job, it is a job to him, not a lifestyle, and outside of working hours it sounds like just another nine to five.
You slung the bag you were handed over your shoulder, fastening it for your climb up the long ladder. Medic had noticed that he hadn’t seen Sniper around in a minute and had therefore tasked you, his assistant, with checking up on him and bringing him some supplies.
There was probably nothing to worry about, it was kind of his job to stay out of sight, after all, you thought while you climbed the rungs one at a time. But you were still sort of happy to go on the little excursion.
Finding the hatch atop the ladder already open, you quickly spotted Mundy in his usual spot and silently pulled yourself up as not to disturb him. You weren’t trained for infiltration or anything, but as a light, unsuspicious person yourself, most people tended to overlook you and your feathery steps.
His rifle was propped up on the wide window of the outpost as he stared through the scope with unwavering vigilance and concentration, the weapon lodged well against his shoulder with the stance of a professional.
Something about this sight always rearranged your brain, no matter how much pep talk of professionalism you gave yourself beforehand. From behind him you were in full view of his lean back and defined forearms, dark hair adorning them as they were exposed from his rolled-up sleeves. It was quite a warm day, after all, you noticed when you examined the warm tone his complexion shone in against the bright daylight.
It was embarrassing, but something about the sight of him made you want to sink down to him and sling your arms around his neck, resting your tired body on his warm back… God, what the fuck.
You were barely keeping yourself contained, so you decided to do something, slinging the bag from your shoulder to your side again, the floorboards creaking gently beneath you as you shifted your weight.
For a fraction of a second, you detected the slightest of movement from him in your peripherals before a blur of silver came flying at you, a gust of wind blowing through your hair. You gasped sharply as the kukri flew into the wall behind you, only inches from slicing off your face.
“Spineless bastard.” He muttered, floorboards creaking beneath his slow, heavy steps towards you. Frozen in shock, you only stared at him with a distraught expression, backing further into the wall the closer he came.
Quickly, the space ran out and you were forced to gulp in fear at the mercenary towering above you, unsheathing a pocketknife while he stared into your soul with pure malice in his eyes.
“I see you’ve got yourself some new toys.” He grumbled, voice low with a gruff tone, rumbling only inches from you. Steadily, his knife approached your throat until it was pressed flush against it, applying no pressure but threatening to slice you any second. “Think I’ve gone soft, do ya’?”
“W-What?” You whispered, still not sure how to respond or if you were in any danger. This was your ally, after all.
He squinted in response to your squeal of a reply, looking you up and down as if inspecting each organ. His focused expression told you he was deep in thought, debating something as he looked into your eyes.
“If that’s just an act I will skin. you. alive, Spy.” He growled lowly with frustration in his tone, each of his syllables drawn out. “Abusing my weakness..”
He suspected you of being a spy, you should have figured! But how would one disguise themselves as you, a mere assistant without any true relevance in combat? Did you really have a doppelgänger now?
“No, fuck, I just came here because Medic told me to check on you! It’s me!” You pleaded, thinking desperately of a way to prove yourself.
Still not convinced, he let his knife trail from your neck to your arm, pushing lightly against your bicep. You held your breath as it made a small incision, drops of blood trickling down the lean flesh. But you didn't move, no disguises revealed and no spies exposed. "Are you takin' the piss, mate?"
You glanced off to the side, inspecting a collection of jars. "Don't you still need it?"
His stern expression faltered for a second, a small grin appearing and vanishing on his face like a ghost. “So it really is you! God, I-I'm sorry sheila, I saw a Spy sneaking around earlier, so I—” He quickly released his hold on you, stumbling around the room to fetch some band aids for you.
Finally, you sighed a breath of relief. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Yeah, well, you too.” He chuckled while wiping down the small injury with a towel, then steadily applying the aid to your skin. For just a moment, he paused dead in his tracks, glancing off to the side with a spiteful expression.
Before you could examine what he was staring at, his fingers flinched to the holster on his belt, grabbing a pistol before he spun it into his hands and shot one precise bullet out the window, all too fast for you to fully process; Just a deadly blur gone by.
“The hell was that?” You asked, running to the large gap in the planks and leaning over the wood as you inspected the fresh corpse with furrowed brows. The sight sent shivers down your spine, surely enough, the body looked like you. With your heavy stare on it, it quickly melted into its true form, a cadaver in a blue suit sprawled out over the floor. Its face, or rather, chunks of it, were generously splashed over the scenery.
You gagged at the sight of what was probably part of the enemy's jaw, glad you got here first but somewhat disturbed by the unnerving fact that Mundy just blew out the brains of your lookalike without hesitation.
“So he does know you. Bloody hell.” Sniper sighed, gun already returned to its holster. Seeing your appalled reaction to the massacre, he gently pried you away from the window, instead spinning you around into a heartfelt hug to draw your attention.
“It’s alright now, yeah? I'll always know who the real you is.” His dark voice reverberated from above you, and for a second it seemed like he might press a soft kiss to your hair, but resisted the temptation. You simply nodded silently, burying your face in his chest and relishing the rare occurrence of being doted over by the stoic mercenary. You did trust him, after all.
“What did you mean by weakness?” You mumbled.
“Hm?”
“Earlier, you said he was abusing your weak—”
“Ah, yeah. Don't worry about it. Merc stuff.” He hurriedly interjected, releasing you from your hold with an artificial laugh. More perceptive than he gave you credit for, you of course didn't miss the slight tinge of red unfurling over his face.
Oh.
Maybe he had gone soft.