|
>>
|
No. 3936
Part II
I've found I really enjoy writing Heavy. Hopefully I'm doing it right.
-------------------------------------
Sniper found himself thinking about his conversation with the Heavy more than he would have liked. It bothered him, to some degree. Most of the time he was left to his own devices, except when the Scout came to show him some new thing he'd found in the desert and classified all wrong along with some cooked up story he'd created to go with his "adventure".
The more he thought about it, the more his mind kept wandering to what he would name his gun. He knew the big man expected some answer, but the problem was he didn't feel right, giving some inanimate object a name, no matter how close a relationship he had with it. Truth was, he was glad he and his wife never had any children before they got divorced. He wasn't sure he'd be any good at picking out a name for a person, either.
He pulled his hat over his head and sighed. It was a lazy day. There were no fights scheduled until the morning and he'd retreated to his nest after a disappointingly loud breakfast on Soldier's part. The man still wasn't letting him live his "failure" down and it was starting to wear on the Australian's nerves. He'd been nothing but polite to him and had walked away several times, but a man's patience can only stretch so thin.
The smell of his hair fixative filled his nostrils and he closed his eyes, welcoming the familiar scent. Normally he'd be napping in his van, but it was a nice day and he ignored the sounds of the Engineer's wrench as he began to drift off.
"Sniper?"
Sniper nearly jumped at the sound of Heavy's voice, not having heard the man on the concrete as he approached. His hat fell from his face to his chest, and he regarded the big man, a little bit bewildered.
"Y-yeah.. what is it, mate?"
Heavy smild apologetically and sat down on one of the large crates in the room, his eyes darting between Sniper and his gun which sat against the wall.
"Is lazy day. Everyone is busy. Leetle baby man has no time for arm wrestling and Pyro has no new stories."
Sniper cocked his hat back on his head and offered the Heavy a pleasant smile. He still didn't feel comfortable having the man on the deck with him, no matter how well he knew him. It felt.. different, to have someone spend any length of time with him in his own personal space.
"Pyro tells stories?"
"Da. Good stories. You should listen some time."
Sniper shook his head. He'd listened to the man.. woman.. whatever it was in that flame-retardant suit. The only thing he'd heard was disgruntled moaning, depending on the mood of the wearer.
"Yeah.. maybe I should."
He shrugged and pulled his hat back up over his face, hoping the Heavy would take the hint and leave him to his thoughts. Instead, the Heavy scratched his chin and sighed.
"Australia is good country?"
Sniper peeked out from under the brim of his hat. It was an unexpected question, and unexpected questions always made his heart quicken. It was like he was being lined up for his own personal headshot. Still, unexpected as it was, he found it relatively innocent, on the Heavy's part.
"S'good country, mate. Lotsa huntin' an' fishin' to do."
It was a relatively short answer and he kept it that way, wondering if the Heavy might lose interest in the conversation and wander off. Instead, the big man smiled at him and patted his chest.
"Russia is good country, but is cold. Is too hot here. Soldier is mad all the time, because of weather."
Sniper chuckled.
"I don't think the weather's got nothin' to do with it, mate."
"Maybe not." Heavy offered a shrug and leaned over, poking at the Sniper's kukri.
"Is big knife. Australian knife?"
Sniper sat up. It was clear the larger man wasn't going to leave on his own. He sighed and shook his head, replacing his hat properly on his head and picking up the weapon.
"It ain't just a knife, mate." He grinned at the Heavy. "S'good for all kinds-a work." He swung it, the blade offering a faint whistling noise as it sheared the air. He stopped and showed the Heavy the small notch in the blade at the base.
"See this? Keeps the blood from runnin' into the handle. Makes it so it ain't slick when I put it up."
He set the blade down and returned to his makeshift straw bed, his aviator shades hiding his eyes as he watched the larger man. He seemed impressed with what the Sniper told him, but after a moment, he clenched his fists and smiled.
"Is good blade, but this.." He lifted his hands. "This is Russian way to solve problem." He offered the Sniper a smile and lowered his fists, resting them on his knees, almost as if he were ashamed for his display.
"Is good way to solve problem, da?"
Sniper chuckled.
"I reckon, mate."
"Da, Soldier has problem with you, you solve problem with fist."
"It ain't just me he's gotta problem with. I'm just tha flavor of tha week."
Heavy considered this and sighed, looking down at his hands.
"Soldier is mad because you save me."
Sniper wasn't sure what to say, and so he said nothing. He wondered if the man actually regretted not dying and being subjected to the huge, rumbling machine which reassembled them in the supply room, just because the Soldier was riding his ass about his botched shot. He sighed, shaking his head.
"Look, mate. If yer beatin' yourself up over what happened 'cause I killed that bloody spook, you ain't gotta worry about it, okay? Ain't a one of us here Soldier ain't yelled at except the bloody Scot."
He shrugged at Heavy, as if that would dismiss the matter entirely. Instead, Heavy nodded, but he ran his fingers over his chin as if he were in deep thought.
"Is nothing to worry about, I know. But it bothers me, when Soldier yells for no reason. He does not know. There is no reason to yell about things you don't know."
Sniper nodded.
"Yeah, but that ain't gonna change nothin', mate."
"Da, I know." Heavy shrugged again. "Is why I am here, talking to you."
Sniper offered a brief smile. He'd figured that was the reason the big man had returned, but now that his suspicions were confirmed, he almost felt bad.
Heavy was quiet for a moment longer before he smiled again, resting his big forearms on his knees.
"How is gun?"
Sniper glanced at his gun.
"She's alright, mate."
He shrugged. He wasn't sure what the big man wanted to know about the gun, other than the name, which he still hadn't decided on. Heavy was decidedly content with the answer, though he didn't stop looking at the rifle after Sniper had answered him.
"I have never shot gun, other than Sasha."
Sniper sat up a little bit and pushed his hat back on his head with his thumb.
"Yeah?"
Heavy nodded. "Would be nice, da? Sasha is nice gun, but she is heavy. She is reason I am big." He beamed at Sniper and patted his arms which were indeed, massive.
Sniper couldn't help but chuckle.
"Never shot a gun, 'sides from that big barrel of fun you lug around, huh?" He could bring himself to call the gun the name the Heavy had given it. "I reckon you can shoot mine, if you like. She's a beaut, an' she's got one helluva kick."
Heavy smiled, seemingly entranced by the idea of shooting the gun. He watched as the Sniper stood up and picked up his gun, screwing the cap off of the scope and flipping it up.
"I ain't gotta tell you to be gentle with her, mate. I've seen how you are with your own. Jus'.. be careful."
He smiled at the larger man and held out his gun, hiding his apprehension at having someone other than himself handle it. Heavy took the gun with all the care he would afford a newborn baby and shouldered it, looking through the scope and out the window of the sniper deck.
"Can see far away!" he exclaimed, his eye still pressed to the scope as he surveyed the scene.
"Sure can. S'why I ain't gotta follow you 'round like the Scot an' the firebug. Got all the power I need, right up here."
Heavy continued his survey, looking across the bridge to the BLU base.
"Is good gun, with good eye. But is not as good as Sasha."
Sniper stepped up to the window, a faint smile playing over his lips as he folded his arms across his chest and watched the big man.
"Yeah, well let's see then. You see that beer can down on the bridge?"
Heavy swung the scope down to see where the Sniper was looking.
"Da, 10 ounces of BLU Streak."
Sniper chuckled.
"Yeah, mate. You can make that shot with 'Lizbeth.."
Did I just name my gun?
Heavy glanced at him and smiled, stroking the stock of the gun with his massive thumb.
"'Lizbeth. Is good name."
He nodded at the Sniper and resumed his sighting on the can, holding the rifle still as he watched it for a moment before pulling the trigger.
"POW! HA HA!" the big man laughed as the can flew across the bridge and into the water. Sniper couldn't help but chuckle at his excitement, though his thoughts still dwelled on the name he'd seemingly spoken from no where.
"Is good gun," he repeated, turning to hand the rifle reverently back to Sniper. Sniper took the gun with a smile and a nod, screwing the cap back on.
"Yeah, thanks.."
"Tomorrow, you shoot Sasha."
Sniper looked up, thankful for his polarized lenses on his glasses to hide his wide eyes.
"..What?"
"Da, tomorrow, I teach you to shoot Sasha. Is good. Doktor will not mind."
"Big guy.. I can't.. well.. you know its a big gun.. and.."
"Da. You will learn. Is good."
"I don't think.."
Heavy slapped him on the back jovially, nearly knocking him from his standing position and he had to grab the wall to keep from falling.
"No baby talk! Tomorrow you learn to shoot big man's gun!"
He flexed and laughed, heading toward the doorway of the small room Sniper called home. Bewildered by the man's actions and his words, Sniper found himself sinking against the wall into his hay. How the hell was it he found himself in company of the Russian more often than not? He'd only done his job, just as any of the rest of them would do, and now the big man was visiting him almost daily.. and he'd even given his gun.. a name.
"Crikey," he mumbled as he pulled his hat off, tossing it to the side with a heavy sigh.
He had a feeling Sasha would get the best of him.
|
