Chapter Text
The air itself ripples under the blazing sun up above, old beaten wheels riding over broken tarmac burning hot from the suns rays. Old suspensions creak and sway as the camper van finds its way down these desolate roads, the radio reading off a cracked cassette of I Won’t Hurt You by The West Coast pop Art Experimental Band. the sun glints of golden glasses framed by messy brown hair and a weathered cowboy hat, hiding tired brown eyes that watch the horizon that never gets any closer. Mundy taps absentmindedly on the steering wheel to the beat of the song, tape worn by dirty hands keeping the old wheel from falling apart like dominoes. This place is almost a mirror to the outbacks, same dusty lands for as far as the eye can see, but he feels the difference like centipedes crawling along his bones. The Badlands of New Mexico are empty barren wastelands compared to the Outbacks of Australia; no plants, no animals, not even a vulture looking for the rotten remains of prey that lost against the heat. The van slightly sways as it navigates over the broken road that hasn’t seen a loving hand in years, making a soothing rhythm and doing fuck all to ease Mundys nerves. It wasn’t like Mundy had a horrible experience getting here; the plane ride was long but decent, the hotel was mediocre with okay food, and he only had to wait a few days for his campervan to arrive before getting on the long haul to his new job. Out here in these deserted plains the reality has finally sunken in; Mundy is farther from home than he ever dreamed he would be, starting a whole new life as a mercenary of all things. Was it really a good decision to accept the job offer? Will this really be as great of an experience as he convinced himself it would be? Rumbling past an old rail yard with rusty gates and broken trains Mundy forces those thoughts away, turning down a dusty old path no more than tire marks in the red dirt. He’s here now, encroaching on a cluster of buildings that grow more towering with each meter he crosses. The Reliable Excavation and Demolition Cos Base he’s stationed to, RED for short. The brakes squeak as Mundy sighs, feeling the whole van shift up slightly when he steps out. His new home sweet home, where he’ll be staying for god knows how long- “Howdy there Partner.”
A smooth voice laced with a texan accent causes Mundy to whip around, coming face to face with three men wearing red outfits. Seems uniforms aren’t quite a thing here. One is a lanky guy with a baseball cap and dirty bandages wrapped around his hands like gloves, a shorter man with overalls and hardhat as well as goggles of some sort, and the last man is taller with an eyepatch and some impressive mutton chops accenting his thick curly black hair. His friendly smile, one dark brown eye sparkling with something Mundy can’t quite perceive, and his dark skin reminds Mundy a lot of coffee. Warm and comforting with an edge to it, a dangerous man with a heart of gold… is that an appropriate thought? Before he can think on it the lanky guy speaks as he swings a wooden bat around, when on earth did he get that in his hands? “Ay there new guy! I’m Scout, hardhat here is Engineer, and the cyclops over there is Demoman!” Scout gleefully introduces the other men with a grin, his voice as high energy as he looks. “You can just call me Engie.” Engineer says with a nod, Demoman nodding and speaking as well, “And you can just call me Demo lad.” Alright; Scout, Engie, Demo, seems a little on the nose. Should he introduce himself with his name- “You must be the sniper Miss Pauling was talking about! Welcome to the team Sniper!” Scout grabs Snipers hand and shakes it so hard Mundy almost feels his shoulder pop out, for such a lanky guy he’s got the strength of a bloody Ox! “uh-cough- hi.” Mundy replies off-kilter, even after all these years talking like a human feels like a frog in his throat. As Scout starts to go on and on about missions and crew and blah blah blah, the heavy smell of alcohol drifts over to Sniper like an acrid cloud. It’s coming from… Demo? The mans eye is clear as day but the smell of booze is heavy, as if he downed a bottle before heading over here to greet Sniper. His tolerance must be that of a gods, he smells like a damn brewery but he’s well spoken and strong on his feet. “Alright, alright. It’s time for the grand tour.” Engie says with a chuckle, was Scout rambling this whole time? Even with his boston accent the kids voice is very easy to tune out, like a fly buzzing around a vulture's meal. You learn to ignore it.
“Welcome to Fort Brunsteen lad!” Demo announces with a dramatic motion behind him, the looming buildings and massive rocks standing strong under the hazy sun. It's not much to write home about, a rather dull and average view, but thankfully one Sniper could very much get used to. “Follow me, I'll show you around.” Engie starts walking off before Sniper even says yes, Demo and Scout going ahead as the Australian jogs up to Engie before falling in line beside him. The main ‘home’ of Fort Brunsteen is quaint if quite simple; a chow hall, a shower hall, a recreational building, a barracks that thankfully has separate rooms, and a large patch of dirt for a courtyard. Each building is made from logs of what seems to be stripped juniper trees, if the reddish wood paneling is anything to go bye, and they’re all coated with a fine layer of dust around the bottoms. On a nearby small hilltop sits another building, Engie calls it the ready room and the ‘respawn machine’. The same juniper wood is used to make it but the concrete and metal grating is out of place, too industrial in this rather rustic and western style fort. No one else pays any mind to the ‘respawn machine’ Engie mentioned so Sniper brushes it off, following Engie up the stairs where Demo and Scout are waiting on the landing. Up here all four can see what Scout calls the fighting grounds; the outcropping serving as the battlements, the old wooden bridge, a massive rocky ledge with a slope, a walkable valley under the bridge, a balcony decorated with sheets of metal, and these strange domes scattered about. Engie calls them ‘control points’, must be part of the missions… somehow. Everyone stops at three rusty old train cars, looking at what is a mirror flip of what Sniper just walked through. It has rusty train cars too but they’re blue, the large building that must be the ready room made of concrete and metal with barely any wood in sight. “That is BLUs side, the people we’re hired to fight! Don’t worry ‘bout any of that today, it’s a rest day.” Scout declares with a grin showing off his buckteeth Sniper didn’t notice before, this was the best day he could’ve gotten for his first on the job. Fort Brunsteen reminds him a lot of his home in the Australian Outbacks; dusty, hot, flat, and stretching as far as the eye can see. It’s just missing a few plants and kangaroos here, a lot of kangaroos actually. And Emus. lots of Emus. Those feathery bastards are everywhere.
A deep bell rings through the silence from behind the group, Demo and Scout's eyes practically lighting up. “Lunchtime! Loser has to buy the other a soda!” Scout cackles as he runs off with Demo right on his tail, racing off to the chow hall. Engie chuckles and shakes his head with a smile, “Damn toddlers they are. Come on, today is some hearty chicken noodle soup.” Once again Sniper is walking quietly beside the shorter Texan, the thrumming in his veins starting to simmer. Maybe this new place isn’t as bad as he feared, it’s a lot like home in certain ways. Walking into the chow hall 7 men are seated at one of the tables and talking loudly, Demo and Scout amongst the unfamiliar faces. This must be the rest of his new team, they’re very… lively to say the least. Engie grabs his own bowl of soup and sits down with the others who cheerfully welcome him, leaving Sniper to stand there like a lost puppy for a few seconds. Grabbing a bowl of his own Sniper sits at a separate table, eating slowly as he watches the rest of the team chat and laugh like a family. Despite the friendly welcome Sniper feels horribly out of place, he wasn’t even given the damn chance to introduce himself! Scout just called him Sniper before he ever said a word, not even a ‘what’s your name’ or anything! He was just saddled with his job title for a name, does everyone go by their job titles and not their real names? It’s all so impersonal and detached despite how close knit everyone seems, certainly doesn’t help with Mundys imposter syndrome. They’re all so lively, so happy, so… human. It’s second nature to them, it’s all they’ve ever known. They don’t have to think about how to walk or talk or eat like a human, they don’t have to masquerade and act as if they have everything figured out when they don’t. None of them have to hide, pretend to be something they aren’t, cast away a part of them for the sake of elitist assholes who aren’t affected by how he lives his goddamn life- “Sniper! Are you going to join us outside?” It's Scout who cuts through Sniper's thoughts, excited as always and pointing out of the large doors where everyone else is gathered in the courtyard. “Sure… okay.. Yeah.” Scout bounces off like a deer with that same dumb grin, today isn’t even halfway over and Mundy already regrets everything that brought him here.
Everyone is having fun under the sun; Demo and Soldier wrestling in the dirt, Engie relaxing in a chair he made himself, Pyro sitting in the dirt beside Engie with a lighter, Heavy and Medic sitting together with a cold case of beer, Scout batting baseballs that Spy unenthusiastically tosses for the boston… and Sniper, sitting alone on a rock, he was given a cursory introduction, just everyone's names and a friendly greeting before they settled back in what they were already doing. Dusty clouds are kicked up where Demo and Soldier are giving it all they’ve got, grunting and soft chattering filling the warm silence. It isn’t a horrible place by any stretch… but god, Mundy wishes he could just be home again. The place where he was only known as Mundy, just his parents and the farm for company. It was so damn simple back home; pick the garden, herd the sheep, ward off intruders, clean the house, cut firewood for the stove, a steady routine Mundy adored even when exhaustion weighed him down and sweat covered his skin like morning dew. Life was calm in the outbacks, a steady rhythm that drummed in Mundys veins like a second heartbeat of mother nature himself. Sitting on that dusty rock Sniper is too lost in thought to hear anything else, not even when Scout calls out with a massive grin. “Sniper! Spar with me!” the Australian hums in response, a subconscious habit ingrained deep in his bones. It made sure people knew you were listening, everyone in the Mundy family did it, you only had to repeat yourself if the other person didn’t hum. Some take it as an open invitation, their voice booming across the flat stretches of nothing, footsteps drawing closer like thundering cattle- something slams into Sniper like a freight train and tackles him to the ground. Pinning him to the ground with heavy breaths and a big toothy smile, making sounds Mundy can’t identify, trapping him under it like a predator going for the kill. Mundy bites one of the things limbs as hard as he can fucking bite, trashing like a wild animal and clawing at the thing above him. It shouts in pain as Mundy lets go only to sink his teeth in again, kicking it in the stomach with all the force he could muster and launching back so fast Mundys teeth ache from being ripped out of the wound. Free of its grasp mundy sits up with a deep growl, glaring at the horrible thing that viciously attacked him- a bear- wolf- dog-.., human. Lanky, bleeding, squealing like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Scout. No hooves, no whiskers, no tail, no fur, entirely and wholly human. Fuck.
Everyone is staring at the gruesome scene, Scout's left arm bleeding a crimson river as the deep red coating Mundys maw starts to dry. Even the winds have stilled, all men here standing still like statues in a garden of dust and rocks. The shock on their faces, the disgust in their eyes, the fear- Mundys legs move before his mind wills them to. Sprinting across the dirt like a speeding racehorse, leather boots kicking up dust with each step. Hurtling past the buildings as red as his stained teeth and through the camper van door, throwing it closed with a bang that rocks the van like a gunshot- safe. He’s safe now. Safe… and bloody. The taste of iron is acrid poison coating his teeth, cold water washing out the blood until the sink looks like a murder scene. Blood under his dirty fingernails, picking out bits of flesh he clawed out in his panicked frenzy. Mundy gags over the sink so hard it hurts, hands shaking and breath unsteady like a wounded animal begging for mercy. What had he done? First day on the job, first day on the goddamn job and he attacked a fellow merc like a rabid dog, he drew blood for gods sake! What do they think of him now? Dangerous, unstable, feral, a rabid dog that needs to be put down with a shotgun like the good-for-nothing pest he is- the pain blossoming in Mundys hands snaps him from his scattered thoughts. His hands are bloody again yet this time with his own, painting his fingers a muddled filthy crimson. The cold water washes it all away, grounds the man shaking like an addict in his own damn van. He fucked up bad, the trembling in his veins a sick reminder of what he did. Scout was just trying to play, be friendly to his new coworker, and Mundy ripped his arm apart like he was nothing but a hunk of meat! Regret swirls in his gut, threatening to crawl up his throat and burn his mouth in retribution for the sins he’s committed. Boots clatter to the floor, ladder creaking in protest under the Australians weight as he climbs into his old rumpled bed. The sun is still blazing in the summer sky, the adrenaline roaring in his veins fading away to utter exhaustion. Only halfway through the day and Mundy is already struggling to keep his eyes open, sunlight peeking through the blinds like claws of white reaching for him. A nap won’t hurt anyone here, it’s an off day after all. No one is even… going… to notice…
knock knock knock- ‘shit’- thud- “Fuck!” This goddamn ceiling is so bloody low it’s got dents from all the times Mundy smacked his damn head into it! Knocking, someones knocking, incessantly knocking as Mundy rubs his eyes. Who the hell is knocking up a storm, the sunlight is gone from the windows, what time is it- “Sniper? I know yer in there son.” a thick texan accent wraps the words from outside, even through the door Engies worry is palpable. “Can I come in? I just wanna have a lil’ chat. Is that something we can do?” God no, this stupid nap only made Mundy feel even worse. Achy, exhausted, sweating bullets from the heat in the van, a whine forces its way out as the Australian tugs his blankets over his head. Just block out the world, block out the rock kicked across the dirt and the gruff sigh from the unwanted visitor. “Look- i ain’t keen on gettin’ you in to another tussle.” smooth and baritone, a hint of… worry lacing the words? “I’m hoping after the one with Scout, it’s out of yer system.” right, that, the thick taste of iron worming its way under Mundys tongue. He already washed it out yet it’s still there, like a rusty old blade drawn across his teeth. “But either way, I'm afraid leavin’ ya alone in here just ain’t an option.” sure it isn’t hardhat. “So why don’t we try talkin’ before resortin’ to drastic measures, hmm?” a soft rumbly hum, disappointment? It’s hard to tell, regardless hiding like a rabbit in its den won't do anyone any good. Silence reigns outside as Mundy rolls out of bed and hops down, the creak of the hinges like a vipers hiss under his hand. “... Good call, partner.” voice thick with the dust coating his face, worry swirling in those hazy ocean eyes… didn’t know Engie ever took off those goggles with how glued to his face they are. “Mind telling me what that was about?” Engie asks, his bright yellow hardhat sticking out against the darkening sky like a beacon. When did night fall? God Mundys head is swimming, throat dryer than the desert around them with a horrid taste to everything breath. His body’s too heavy, bones weighing a thousand tons and muscles made of molasses. Silence, Engies waiting for an answer. “... No.” Mundy chokes out, the words like filthy slugs in his mouth. Heavy and sticky, crawling across his teeth that are far too dry for comfort.
“Yer feeling okay? No aches or pains?” Engines voice is rough like jagged rocks yet comforting, the man’s even bothering to ask about how Mundy’s feeling. “Yeah… peachy.” The look on the Texans face is like vile acid dripping down Mundys throat, too much to say with not a way to speak it all. “.. do you want to join us? We’re having smores by the courtyard.” an open invitation, far too welcoming of a man who just attacked one of his own. How could Engie even face him, after what he did to Scout, he’s still so damn friendly. “No… thank you, Engie." The words hang like suffocating smoke, the silence deafening as Mundy and Engie avoid eachothers eyes. The tension wraps around Mundy like a rope, threatening to choke him out if he stays even one more minute like this. “Sigh… Alright, have a good night Sniper.” With a nod and a turn Engie walks off to wherever the firepit is along with the team, leaving Mundy all alone staring at the footprints in the dust. He closes the door with a sigh, locking it gently and facing the van that seems so isolated now. It was always his safe space, a place to get away from the troubles of the world, tonight it feels emptier than the outbacks it came from. Did Mundy fuck everything up? Does the rest of the team hate his fucking guts now? Scout greeted him with a smile, Mundy returned a bleeding wound and a feral glare. The thoughts and doubts swirl in Mundys head as he changes into his sleeping clothes, worry distracting him so much it takes 3 tries to put his shorts on right. The mere idea of tomorrow feels like gaping jaws with gleaming teeth just waiting, waiting for Mundy to make one wrong move so they can snap him in half like a bone for a vulture. The outside world feels suffocating, crawling across the outside of the camper van looking for any way inside… any way to Mundy. A heavy sigh breaks the silence, metal creaks as the Australian climbs into bed once again. His heart hammers against his ribs like a stampeding horse running for its life, long breaths drawn in and out to calm it down. The van feels more comfortable now that Mundy is in a shirt and shorts, it doesn’t feel like an oven slowly cooking him alive. He sighs deeply, there’s nothing he can do about it tonight. He just has to live with what happened for the night, wait until tomorrow to face it again. Curling up on his side Mundy glances at the door one more time, the outside world a pool of hungry gators clawing at a door that won’t give… he’s glad he locked the door tonight.