Work Text:
So I'm about to nail down a coupla blokes, when all of a sudden I get a call from Miss Pauling. The Sheila in purple herself. She says I've got an interview tomorrow. With who? And why? She won't say. Just says that it's important to the Administrator and I've gotta be on my best behavior tomorrow. I tell her sure, but no promises.
~~~
It sure is a good thing I didn't make any promises regarding my behavior. This bloke is a looney, and he's gettin' on my nerves. I oughta put a bullet right between his eyes. Forget the BLU team. This man's the real enemy.
He wants to ask me questions about my personal life. 'Bout my parents. 'Bout my "upbringing." Why's this bloke gotta know all this? I turn to Miss Pauling.
"You can't be serious. This man's a bloody mongrel! He's in my face, and I don't like it."
"Don't worry, Sniper. You only have to deal with him for a short while," she says. Heh. Probably shorter than she thinks. "He's just going to ask you a few questions, and then we can all move on."
"Fine," I mutter. "Let's just go. I've got to get to work; he can ask his stupid bloody questions on the way there."
"Works for me."
I had no idea how painful that drive would be. Here we are now, Miss Pauling, the Director, and me, crammed into the front of my van with the Director holding his bloody camera in my face.
By the time I shake myself out of my thoughts, he's already started asking me his first question: "Why do you feel such a strong connection with the other killers you work with?"
"I don't."
"And yet you so often get literally stabbed in the back?"
"By the bloody spies on the bloomin' enemy team, ya drongo!"
X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
"If you could pick one word to describe yourself, Mr. Mundy, what would it be?"
"Er. Well..." What does he want me to say?
"I'm going to answer that for you." Ah, here it is. He's gonna tell me what he wants to hear. "VICTIM."
Wait, what?
"Of the educational system." What education?
"Of the role society has shackled you with as an Australian, of course." Hah. 'Shackled.' That's a laugh. "And let's not forget the current administration, which..."
I wish he'd just shut up 'fore I have to make him shut up. Forever. I interrupt him.
"Wait, back up. What'd these folks do to me again?"
"Forced you to be a killer."
Right. This again. He keeps bringing this up as if I was forced to take on this job. And I've told him time and time again: Sniping's a good job! And also:
"For the last time, mate..." For the very last time. "I'm a professional."
I just can't shake him. Now it seems like I've just given him exactly what he wants.
"Exactly. A victimized professional killer..."
I flick the bobblehead on my dash without responding. Headshot.
"An assassin..."
I flick it again and again, silently trying to drown out his words.
"A murderer..."
I keep flicking that bobblehead, wishing the bloody thing was the Director himself.
"A deranged psychopath. Let me in, Mr. Mundy. How do these words make you feel?"
Alright, I've had enough. Time to let this bloke know exactly who he's dealing with.
"Like choking the bloody life out of your body, you--"
"We're here!"
Miss Pauling. Great.
This bloody fruit shop owner should consider himself lucky.