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The match is almost at its end, with only a few minutes left, and Sniper has managed to stay in the same location the whole round without anyone finding him. He’s gotten a few kills so far and wants to try and get at least one more before the match is over. He lines up a shot at the Blu engineer, who’s standing off to the side of the field just barely in view.
But just before he’s able to get the shot a sharp pain blossoms in his right shoulder. The force of the bullet that hit him jerks his shoulder back and he tumbles to the ground.
After a few seconds of staying down, he peeks up and spots the Blu sniper directly across from him. He shoots another bullet and Sniper quickly ducks back down, narrowly avoiding getting short in the head.
Sniper tries to steady his breath, a continuous wave of pain making it hard for him to keep his head clear. His non-wounded arm goes up to cup the wound in an attempt to stop or slow the bleeding, though it does do much.
“Mission ends in ten seconds.” Sniper forces his eyes back open, he must have blacked out for at least a few seconds as he can’t remember hearing the other warnings for the match ending.
“Five!”
He lets out a shakey breath, his wounded arm twitching.
“Four!”
A wave of nausea rushes over him and he clenches his teeth down.
“Three!”
“Two!”
He heaves onto the ground but, luckily, nothing comes out.
“One!”
“You’ve failed!”
He can’t find it in himself to care as he pushes himself off of the ground, his legs shaking like a newborn faun. Sniper grabs his rife and throws it over his shoulder, letting out a wince through clenched teeth as it jostles his shoulder.
He takes a few steps forward before he finally gets ahold of walking again and steadily enough walks back to base.
No one notices him over the chaos of the loss, everyone too busy either talking to each other or trying to avoid everyone else.
Sniper rushes to the medical room but there’s already a line of people waiting outside of it by the time he gets there.
“Ah buggers..” He mutters under his breath before thinking ‘fuck it’ and begins making his over to his van, deciding to just fix the wound himself the best he can.
He’s honestly surprised no one’s noticed the blood pouring down his arm but he prefers it this way. He doesn’t want to bother anyone at the moment and he also doesn’t particularly feel like talking to anyone either.
He grabs his keys from his pocket and opens the door of the camper van, pulling it open with his good arm. He steps in and quickly shuts the door behind him before stumbling over to the booth and sitting down, his legs not fully under the table.
The blood loss is starting to get to him as his eyes get a bit bleary, unfocusing almost completely. He grabs a bottle of pain meds he’s started keeping on the table as he’s been skipping going to Medic more often for smaller injuries. If Sniper’s being honest, the doctor scares him somewhat. He’s seen the stuff Medic has done to people who just come in for a bruise, and end up leaving with a new kidney or an animal heart. So he’d rather just not go in the first place, and either way he knows how to take care of a few cuts. Or a gunshot wound in this case.
He swallows two pills and grabs a medical kit. Though it’s difficult to get the latch open with one hand, he eventually manages to do so. He pulls out a bottle of disinfectant and a small sewing kit. Before closing up the kit he realizes that the bullet is still in there and grabs a pair of tweezers to get it out.
He pulls off his vest then his shirt. He begins tugging it over his head but the force shoves on his shoulder sending a spike of pain through it that leaves him heaving for a few seconds before he gets himself back together and starts pulling it off again, more carefully this time.
After a minute he gets the shirt off and tosses it onto the floor along with his vest. Now, with access to the wound, he begins to take care of it. He puts some disinfectant on his opposite hand and rubs it onto the shoulder. Probably not the proper medical way of doing it but he couldn’t care any less, it’s worked for other wounds up until this point. He grabs a paper towel and rubs excess blood off of his arm. Now, with the wounded area cleared, he grabs the tweezers and begins to get the bullet out.
He shoves them roughly into the wound at first, too dazed to properly think it through, and immediately reels back from the pain. He goes slower the next time and gets it in, pinching the tweezers to try and get anything out but he’s not far enough in. He pulls them out and is left breathless, heaving for a few seconds. He shuts his eyes in an attempt not to puke but despite it some vomit comes up his throat which he promptly swallows back down.
He goes in for another try but after going in around an inch the pain is so much that he can’t get himself to go any further. He takes the tweezers out and drops them down to the table, a pool of blood forming around them. He gives up and just decides to stitch the wound up.
He wipes the area down again and grabs the sewing needle that he had luckily already put a string in beforehand just incase. He doesn’t have a mirror so he tilts his head to the side as much as possible to see what he’s doing. With the hand that is on his wounded arm, he clamps down the wound, letting out a hiss, and lines up the needle that he’s holding in his other hand.
He shoves the needle through the skin, his hand shaking all the way, and clenches his teeth down. After a few seconds to let his heart calm down he stabs it back down, making the first stitch. He makes a second, and a third, and before he knows it the wound is all stitched up. He places the needle back down and slumps back into the booth, letting out a loud sigh.
Sniper grabs a roll of bandages from the kit and messily wraps his shoulder up.
Hes absolutely exhausted so he decides, even though it’s just barely 5 p.m., to go to bed. He gets up from the booth slowly, his whole body still slightly shakey, and makes his way the few steps to the ladder. He tries to climb it but immediately is in pain. His shoulder aches and he quickly realizes his issue. He won’t be able to get up the ladder with a hurt shoulder, so he goes back to the booth and lyes down there are carefully as possible, making sure not to push up against the side of the table.
And within a few minutes, he’s out.
—
Sniper wakes up the next day to knocking on the door of his van.
“Sniper! Vacate the van immediately!”
The first thing he feels in pain, overwhelming pain. He heaves but nothing comes out. Shakily, he pushes himself up to a sitting position and grabs for the pain meds. He struggles to open the cap for a few seconds, even knocking the bottle down, but eventually gets it open. He pours out two pills which he promptly swallows.
The pills don’t work immediately but he feels even the slightest bit better at just having taken them.
He hears more pounding on the door.
“Sniper!”
He groans, Soldier. The last person he wants to hear while in excruciating pain.
Sniper slowly stands up from the seat, getting his balance and pausing to let his spinning head settle, before making his way over to the door just as Soldier starts banging on it some more.
He opens the latch and pushes the door open.
“Whaddya want.”
“Sniper!” Soldier salutes at him. “It’s time for breakfast and you weren’t at base so I came to get you!”
“Alright I’ll be over in a minute jus’ lemme get changed”
Soldier nods and starts walking away from the van and back to base.
Sniper would rather not go in to base at the moment but it would be suspicious at this point if he didn’t. He sees his bloody shirt crumpled up on the floor and decides that he’ll wash it later, grabbing a red button up that he has without the logo, it’ll do for now.
He pulls it over his arms, wincing and shivering when the shirt touches his wounded shoulder. A wave of nausea runs over him and his legs almost go out from under him but he manages to stay upright. His shoulder feels more sensitive than it was yesterday which is impressive when it was already insanely sensitive.
He barely manages to pull the rest of the shirt on and button it up with shakey fingers.
Sniper lets out a breath and mentally prepares himself to see the rest of the team as he grabs his hat and sunglasses, putting them on before opening the van door and stepping out. He stares down at the sandy floor beneath him as he walks towards base, his van parked just outside it so it only takes a minute to get there.
He pushes the door open with his non-wounded shoulder and stumbles through the door, catching himself before anyone sees him. He walks into the common room on base and everything is immediately loud, as per usual. The mercs are scattered around the room, Demo, Heavy, and Soldier eating at the main table in base. Scout talking very loudly with Engie who doesn’t look like he’s actually paying attention, more busy talking to Medic about who knows what. Pyro is sitting criss-crossed on the floor messing with a lighter and Spy is standing off to the side of the room simply observing, creepy as always.
Sniper walks towards the table and sits down, Heavy noticing him and pushing a plate with scrambled eggs and toast over to him.
“Thanks mate.”
Heavy simply nods in response. Sniper eats his food mechanically, all he can think about is the constant pain in his shoulder, all other noise blends into one loud buzz.
Sniper is too in his head to notice Spy staring at him, scrutinizing his every move. Spy isn’t dumb, he knows something’s up, as much as the Australian tries to hide things he’s an open book. Spy notices the pained expression Sniper makes when he puts a little too much pressure on his right arm as he leans forward on the table. He notices how Sniper is only using his left hand to eat, and how badly he’s failing at looking casual while doing it.
“Earth ta Sniper, hello?” Demo waves his hand infront of Snipers face.
“Huh? Yeh, what’s up?” Sniper blinks a few times, everything coming back into focus.
“Ya doin okay? You’ve been out a it all mornin”
“Yeh ‘m fine, just tired from yesterdays match”
“Ach yeah, bummer wasn’t it. We haven’t lost in months, I dunnae what happed”
“Guess everyone woke up wrong”
“Uff, ya can tell me that again, had a terrible mornin”
“I always have good mornings! Because I wake up to the American anthem, it gets me ready to beat those commies!” Soldier buts into the conversation.
Demo lets out a huff, looking over at him with an endearing look in his eyes. “Am sure it does Solly.”
“I’m gonna.. head out. I need ‘a get some stuff prepped for today’s match.” Sniper stands up from his seat, his head spinning but he doesn’t let it show. He offhandedly motions towards the door with his hand.
Demo nods towards “see ya out there.” He calls, Sniper gives him a thumbs up but before he’s able to even take a few steps towards the door Spy calls for him.
“Bushman, I need to have a chat with you”
Sniper looks towards Spy and internally groans, he would rather not talk to anyone at the moment but he relents and nods. “Alright, lees the way”
Spy walks off down the hallway and Sniper follows after. The two walk in silence until they reach Spy’s smoking room. Spy pulls out the key and unlocks the door, opening it and holding it open for Sniper who gives him a nod in return. He shuts the door and the two are left in silence until Spy speaks up.
“So, what happened this time?”
“I dunno what you mean”
“Don’t act stupid with me, it doesn’t suit you. Your arm, the right one, there’s obviously something wrong with it.”
Sniper sighs. “And what of it? Why do you care?”
“Because, as much as I hate to admit it, you’re a valuable asset to the team. And you won’t be of any help if you’re hurt. Let me see.” He grabs Snipers arm rather harshly, causing the Australian man to tense up and let out a groan.
“Alright, alright, just be careful you asshole.”
“Off with the shirt.”
Sniper sighs and begins to unbutton his shirt with his left hand but he does so poorly at it that Spy swats his hand off and just does it himself. He pulls the sleeves of the shirt off of Sniper’s arm, actually listening to Sniper and being more careful about it.
Spy immediately spots the messy bandages around Snipers arm and how tense the his whole right arm looks. He grabs Sniper’s forearm which causes Sniper to flinch, his whole arm sensitive.
Spy begins undoing the wrappings slowly and reveals the stitching Sniper had done the night previous, along with multi-colored bruising around the wound.
He looks at the other side of the shoulder and notes the lack of an exit wound.
“Don’t tell me you left the bullet in there”
Spy makes eye contact with Sniper who immediately looks away at the wall. “I couldn’t get it out, it hurt like hell.”
Spy lets out a sigh, obviously holding back more but trying to be calm. “You truly are an idiot. Merde, it’s going to get infected if you leave it like that. Come on, we’re going to the medical room.”
“Wait, there’s no need for that. I can get it out myself.”
“No you cannot,we both know that. You’re not a medical professional. Follow.”
Spy makes towards the door of the room, looking back at Sniper.
“Fine” He huffs out.
“Bien, let’s go.” Spy motions with his fingers for Sniper to follow along, which he reluctantly does.