Chapter Text
"Scheiße" The medic closes the fridge door, causing the items inside to rock as it slams shut. It's 12 am, and he was hungry. He wanted eggs. But there were no eggs. Only back pain.
The medic turns to the sniper, calling out his name to grab his attention. He was the only other person in the base who was awake at this ungodly hour. "Herr sniper, would you be so kind as to head down to the corner store and fetch me a carton of eggs" he asks. Fancy ass. He likes speaking fancy. It makes him feel superior, because he is superior.
The sniper stares at him blankly, his baby vomit green eyes hidden behind the orange tinted aviators he wore literally everywhere. He sets down his "#1 sniper" mug onto the piss stained table along with the playboy magazine he was trying and failing to jack off to because he's a gay man in denial and finally clears his throat to speak. "Uh, yeh." he mumbles. His response felt inferior to the medic’s request that contained a lot of long complicated words. It made him feel even more obligated to get him that carton of eggs.
The medic smiles. It was a crooked and forced smile that pulled the edges of his lips up to the side of his eyes. "Perfect! Make it quick, ja? I don't have all night..." And with that, he turns back to the stove and starts heating the pan.
…
The sniper exits the base's kitchen, passing through halls of sleeping mercenaries and making his way to the base's cluttered garage. It was a small thing, crammed with the team's beat up vehicles. Three vehicle filled the garage, but right in the middle, sandwiched between a bloody, stolen ambulance and a beaten up bread truck with several bullet holes in its windshield, was his campervan, Ol’ Chelly as he calls it. He makes his way to the driver's side of the camper van, his flat ass shimmying through the gap between his trailer and the busted ambulance before he pries open the driver's side door and squeezes himself into the cockpit of his van.
Wasting no time, he starts the caravan. The engine turns on with a roar that wakes up half the base. The old, busted camper shakes to life as the sniper shifts into first gear. The cockpit of the RV felt stuffy and cramped, he couldn't tell whether the scent of unwashed ass came from him or the ancient pair of underwear hiding under the passenger seat. Nevertheless, he pulls out of the base's barely hidden garage and begins his short drive to downtown Teufort, determined to get those eggs.