Camper Mann
Sniper winced as he woke up. There was a deep, throbbing pain all over his body, and moving felt like being backstabbed in the chest when Spy was lucky enought to hit an artery. Above him, there was a blurred ceiling, made out of small square panels and there was a quiet bleep carrying through the room's empty air. His feet felt almost naked, as the comforting weight of his boots was no longer there and the comfortable band of his hat was gone. He wasn't lying outside, at least.
That was a sign it was his lucky day.
Grumbling quietly, he fought through the burning sensation that was like Pyro setting him alight when he had his Bushwacka on him (Strangely, more painful than physics should have allowed), and propped himself up. This was when he realised that he was not, as he had hoped, waking up after one of Medic's surgeries and would find Medic sorting his Doves. Unfortunately for the depressing Australian, he was still in Equestria. This was not something he wanted to see, and especially not with about 40 different balloons at the other side of the room saying 'Get Well Soon' and 'Thank You', and the small fold-up tables that were covered in cards of all types. Frowning, he reached a hand up to rub his face, and found he couldn't; instead, there was a certain point where he found himself restrained by a tugging. Looking down, he noticed he was wearing only his shirt and trousers, he did not fit the bed, and that there were several pipes connected to his arm from the machines by his bedside.
"Life support, bloody useless..." he sighed, reclining back in his bed. In boredom, he rolled his head to the right, to see what was out the window. Immediately, he was greeted by the blinding rays of burning sunlight pouring through the window. It felt warm on his face, and he almost smiled.
Almost.
Muttering some words it'd be preferable for this story's rating that they were kept silent, Sniper rolled over again, however forgetting the pipes connected to his arm. That was getting annoying. Now, any non-psychologically unstable mercenary would have probably called for a Nurse to ask in a formal tone as to when he could get such pipes removed. But Sniper was probably the second best and third most dangerous man he knew, so he simply grabbed one of the pipes stuck to his bicep and simply ripped it off. The normally obscenely painful experience of pulling a patch with needle from your arm was nearly impossible for Sniper to feel; He'd had to explain to several ponies why being hit by an apple, scooter, or such other painful object didn't hurt via the use of referencing the weapons he had the displeasure of being hit with. The moment he unplugged it, the bleeping of the heart monitor ceased, being instantly replaced with a long, drawn out whine as the heart monitor's screen replaced with a flat green line. Immediately, in the corridor outside, there were quiet panicked voices, and the sound of hooves galloping in the direction of the room.
"Ah, piss." Sniper muttered. This was the moment that there entered several ponies, all wearing medical uniforms of some description, and all carrying surgical tools. He was almost absolutely 100% certain that one of them would have a German accent. Absolutely certain. He had never assumed something more in his life, not even that time when he assumed that the Administrator was Jewish and vented her anger over the atrocities against her religion in World War 2 on the two teams. Mostly Medic, for his nationality and shady past. All Sniper knew was that his morbid curiosity seemed to have the interesting side effect of restoring people to full health and dove-sanctuary status. This, unfortunately, was not what these ponies wanted. If he was honest with himself, he was actually quite concerned what they planned to do to him with that meaty Bonesaw one of them was carrying. In response to their entry, he ignored all the pain, and rolled from the bed onto his feet. It was a lot more painful than expected, but he still managed to land on all fours and stagger his way onto two legs.
"Oi!" he said angrily, standing against the wall and looking over the doctors. All were rather saddened by the lack of action, and the one catching Sniper's eye, a white mare with pink hair tied in a bun, looked quite adorable with a massive syringe hung limply from her teeth and a sad facial expression*. "I'm awake, for God's sakes! Don't look at me like that, Wankers. No. No surgery for you today, ya bloody whackjobs."
Just then, the doors swung open, revealing Engineer followed urgently by Princesses Luna, Celestia, and Twilight. Immediately, all the ponies in the room bowed curtly for the monarchs, smiling at Engineer as they did so. The Texan put his hands on his hips. "What in the Sam hell's goin' on in he-?" Just then, he caught eyes on Sniper, and his smile returned. "Sniper!" he beamed. "Thank Gabe you're alright. Thought y'all bit it in that explosion!" Celestia leaned over to Luna.
"Who's Gabe?" she whispered to her sister. Luna just shrugged.
"Explosion?" Sniper asked, sitting at the edge of his bed and putting on and strapping up his boots that were left under his bed. "The bloody hell exploded?"
"The Tank." Engineer replied calmly, going over to the hatstand and removing Sniper's slouch. Then, he put it down on the bed beside Sniper as he resumed explaining what happened. "Before it got t' the hatch, a whole bunch a' Scouts appeared, and distracted my Sentry. So, just as the Tank was droppin' it's bomb, you blind fired into its systems, and made it go boom. Celestia took that moment to teleport us all out, because she was scared of the bomb killin' us, but she couldn't lock onto you when you went flyin'. We...also lost one of the Pyro-Bots. The one with the Birdcage on its head was caught in the blast, an' there was nothin' left to lock onto besides his exhaust pipe."
"Bloody shame." Sniper replied calmly, donning his hat and beginning to look for his rifle. He looked confused. "Where's my gun? Hell, where's my damn backpack?!" Engineer rolled his eyes behind his lenses.
"They wanted some o' your stuff to test with, since that's what most of the robots are carryin'," Engie explained. "I think they asked for one o' your fancy bows, a couple a' shotguns, that Revolver y'all got in a box and never gave to Spy-"
"Because I hate the bastard." Sniper cut him off. "And you didn't think to wait until I was, I don't know, awake to take this stuff?"
"Well, 'pparently not." Sniper emitted his strange growling noise he makes all the time** and slipped his sunglasses on. Celestia looked curiously at him.
"Mr. Sniper, you are inside." she stated, expecting him to care. He stopped, and looked her in the eyes with an unamused expression.
"Miss Celestia, I don't bloody care." he shot back, before walking out of the room on his own. Engineer looked at Celestia and shrugged.
"Didn't even read any of his cards." he whistled, looking at the table of thanks.
"Didn't even say anything to me." Luna sighed. Engineer just chuckled, and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Princess, if Sniper says anythin' to his own team we'd be lucky. He doesn't say much, 'xcept shout things that'd either help us or make us cover our ears. He does have pretty bad days, and those are the days he pretty much slaps us to get us to work." Luna considered this as all three ponies and their Texan companion.left the room, following the tall Australian via his trail of ponies asking 'what the buck is his problem?'.
"Well," she began, "I suppose it'd be good for morale...a good slap would get most things working back in the day."
"It was because a' this habit I first met Sniper." Engineer sighed, remembering that problematic first day in Teufort.
Dell Conagher was ecstatic. He was on his way to one of the most exciting new jobs he ever could've hoped for: a Mercenary! And one where they would respect his contraptions no less! These were men like him, and he was to be part of a 'band of brothers with bonds so strong not even the strongest of blades could cut them'. Swinging his legs calmly over the edge of the seat on the empty bus, he looked out of the window. The bus was beginning to approach a pair of buildings directly opposite each other, and he could tell that there was a strong contrast between the two sides of the small river between the two buildings. In the middle of the river was a sheltered bridge, made of old red metal and the occasional patch of corrugated iron to shield it from the elements, with wooden support beams and a wooden floor. On the 'red' side of the bridge, there was what appeared to be a grain-processing facility of some description, with a few boxes out front, a balcony with a few windows, and two doors flanking opposite sides of the building front. The other building, the 'blue' building, seemed to bear exactly the same layout in the front; balcony, windows, boxes, doors, and behind it was a massive warehouse, with much more modern grain silos.
Dell frowned. He was here to work as a Mercenary, not a farmer. Why would two supposedly 'opposing forces' build bases directly opposite each other? That was something he'd never understand. But he was happy that his devices and doohickeys would be respected in some way. So, not willing to question it, the bus pulled up at the gates outside. After throwing the bus driver his fare, Dell flipped the coins he owed into the man's hand, bid him goodbye, and stepped off the bus into the Teufort sun.
The moment the bus engine died as it drove away into the distance, his ears picked up on yelling inside the red building. That was also the building he had to go into. Cautiously, Engineer tightened the straps on his backpack, and pulled out the pistol he stashed in his pocket. Then, he finally began to creep into the building. The yells became louder, and in the middle of them, cries of pain became apparent. Maybe the enemy team had tried to get in, and both teams were having a tense standoff? Engineer wanted to be part of that! Excitedly, he gripped his pistol tighter and dumped his backpack at the foot of a staircase leading up to a level of wood overlooking a small courtyard, with a doorway leading to where the source of the commotion was. Slipping himself to one side of the doorway and raising his pistol, Dell prepared to sweep in and fire on anybody that fires back at him. The yelling was more audible now.
"Mr Drivenchcko," a French accented man called over. "Calm yourself, my friend, he didn't mean anything!"
"Tiny coward!" roared a Russian in response. "I will crush you! Never touch my gun! DO NOT TOUCH SASCHA!" Away from that voice, near the cries of pain, there were more voices.
"My bloody leg!" screamed an Australian. Dell couldn't see in the room, but he was already making assumptions as to what had happened. "He broke my bloody leg! It's killing me! Help me!" Meanwhile, there was a German-accented voice trying to calm him down.
"Meine freunde, do not move it!" cried the other man. "You will only further your pain!" Deciding it was not the best thing to remain hidden, he ran into the room to be greeted by a bad sight as the immediate reaction of everybody in the room was to pull weapons and aim them in the direction of the stout Texan. The variety of people in the room caught him off guard; aiming a small handgun at him from across the room was a small teenager, looking to be less than 25 years old. He was wearing a black duty cap, dog-tags, and headset, as well as trainers, long socks, black trousers, and a simple red t-shirt, with bandages wrapped around his hands. Directly next to him was somebody who appeared to be a brick wall with a shotgun and a huge bandolier of massive cartridges of ammuniton. He was bald, and had short legs, compared to his massive body and ape-like arms. Barely even up to his chest was a man in a suit and ski-mask pointing a revolver at him. Dell had this horrible feeling he'd have difficult relations with that guy. He seemed...off.
Opposite the room was the man in pain; a tall Australian, lying on a wooden bench with a slouch hat lying by his head and his right leg bent at a horrifying angle. He had a pair of sunglasses perched at his fringe, and he was being tended to by a man in a lab coat with a small pair of glasses. "Who the hell are you?" asked the teenager, not moving his aim from Dell's head. He noticed a Bostonite accent immediately.
"Y'all're meant to be my team?" Engineer frowned. "Hell, you fellas can barely stay in the same room without tryin' t' kill each other! The Sam hell're you thinkin'?! We're here t' kill the other fellas over the bridge, not the fellas on our side a' the bridge!" The 6 men in the room, minus a certain gas-masked Sentry-Buddy, all stopped and looked at each other. Sniper was still coughing up small amounts of blood at the pain his body was experiencing, and only he didn't care. His leg was bloody broken.
This was when Engineer realised they'd REALLY need to get working on putting some Team in the Fortress, and for the second time in his family history, he was going to have to take charge of a group of incoherent psychopaths.
"You certainly have a large amount of courage for being willing to step up like that." Celestia smiled as she, her sister, and Engineer approached the desk, but stayed a distance from Sniper. He was, at that point, engaged in a rather agressive argument with the receptionist, yelling at the brown, white maned mare to let him have the Shotgun that Engineer left him. Her argument was that he was too dangerous to allow him to have it in public, so Sniper then demanded to have his Kukri by using a string of expletives and drumming his fingers on the desk in a menacing manner.
"I have courage for standing within a 40 Metre radius of Sniper for more than a few minutes." Engineer replied. "Hell, if I'm within 5 miles o' the guy, he'd bust my head open if he didn't like me much. Y'all're lucky t' be a friend o' mine." Celestia shifted uneasily, but kept her grin as the paparazzi surrounded her and Engineer to get information on the 'Terrorist Attack' on Canterlot Palace.
And for the first time in a while, the receptionist realised just how much she needed to invest in Self-Assertion Courses.
Stats
Page generated in 0.029 seconds
Total duration
1,094 users online
1,614,704 hits today, 1,822,946 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
"Bloody too adorable for my taste."
its just matter of time before he pulls out the holy hunter (or whatever that hat is named in the english versión of the game).
Sniper is best... *notices dot on forehead*
Wait! I take it back
Finally!!! Another chapter!!! I LIVE FOR THIS MOMENT!!!
when is the next?