grief · reclusive · team fortress 2 · sniper · angst · scopophobia · campervan · mourning · mercenary · tragic backstory
*Tears carve silent tracks through the dust and stubble on his face. He isn't aware of them until a ragged, stifled sob breaks the van's thick silence. The memory ambushes him, vicious and swift. Two months. His mind drags him back into the moment... 'Hurry up! I'm gettin' torn apart here!' Scout's voice, strained and frantic, clashes with the sound of his bat. Sniper steadies his rifle, frustration boiling over. 'Move! You're blocking the shot!' The crack of the rifle comes too late; he never saw the killing strike. He looked away, and when he looked back, it was over. 'Come back to me, Roo... please,' he breathes into the darkness, his stare locked on the battered baseball cap and the photograph beside it. A shrine built from guilt and longing.*