fic: Meanwhile, In Australia
Jan. 24th, 2016 08:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Meanwhile, In Australia
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout, Sniper
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sniper tells Scout about the Australian wildlife, with some embellishments.
Word count: 3500
Author's note: Inspired largely by the Drop bear In Australia, Even the pine trees want to kill you. And yes, a lot of Sniper's notes on the Australian wildlife really are a thing. Unless all of Australia really is trolling us.
This is set before Blood In The Water, and well before the TF comics or MVM. A pinch hit for SillyScrunchy in TF2 Secret Santa 2015. Due to the subject matter there's mentions (but no actual appearances) of all kinds of creepy crawlies like spiders and snakes.
Depending on how canon you consider the Christmas cards, Sniper really did give everyone Festive Jarate for Christmas. He also sticks "Merry Christmas" on his Festive Huntsman bows, and gave BLU Scout a sweater with a bullseye on it.
Because he's one hell of a passive aggressive wanker, apparently.
According to Merasmus' lines in the last Halloween, apparently Gandalf might be real in TF2verse. Either that or he likes talking to other fictional wizards.
NET (or National Education Television aka PBS as of 1970) is what Scout is watching. To quote Vampire Paladin: According to anecdotal data I have been told it used to be popular for boys to watch due to seeing naked breasts in
Betaed by VampirePaladin.
"Yo, what are you up to?" Scout said. He leaned against the side of the van, then yelped and pulled back. In the shade, Sniper sipped at his coffee. His tools were spread about, close enough to reach when he needed them. They shone silvery in the desert, against sand with an undertone of red.
"Fixin' things. It's cool enough to finally check on why my van's makin' that noise," Sniper said. He pushed off his long-brimmed hat, and set it to rest beside him against the side of the van.
A faint wind blew in his face. Scout had tied up his shirt, in a way that the rest of the mercenaries were too busy laughing at him to ever tell Scout that he looked flipping ridiculous, like he should be putting on a pair of clamdiggers to match.
"You friggin' kiddin' me? It's like a hundred degrees in the friggin' shade," Scout said. He pulled off his gray baseball cap, and rubbed his forehead. "At this rate I'm goin' to have to take another shower, and I'm on my third one already today, and it ain't even five yet."
"Balmy weather compared to the outback," Sniper said.
Scout sat down beside him, the rear tire to his back. He pulled out some soda--not his radioactive type which made him rush about, twitching and quoting movies even more than usual, just a simple cola.
"Want some?" he said, holding the can out.
"I'm good. Already got mine," Sniper said. He held up his beer, if American swill really could be called that, and took a sip.
"If you say so," Scout said. He smirked, as if his jab had been sly and witty. He was always doing things like that. Sniper had gotten used to ignoring Scout's ego for some time.
"Drunken fixin'?" Scout shook his head and laughed. "Good luck findin' the problem when you're seein' three motors and crap."
"Just some sips to calm down. I'm not guzzlin'. Couldn't get drunk on this tap water called beer anyways," Sniper said.
"Race you to the end," Scout said. Scout leaned back and guzzled the rest. Soda dripped down his cheeks and fell to his shirt. "Eh, it's worth it," he said. He tossed the can as hard as he could.
"Out of the park!" He mimicked the sound of slow motion and some action scene as he threw the can outwards. It clattered against Sniper's red and rusted toolbox. "Scooore!"
Scout laughed, and pulled his cap off. "That was some amazin' throw, really. Though, that reminds me! Sniper, your outback place is the most bizarre shit I have ever seen. Man, I was watchin' the NET, because the somebody stole the antenna again and nothin' else is comin' in---bet Engie was makin' evil robots to take over the world, that's my guess. Anyways---"
"And?" Sniper said.
"I'm gettin' to it! So there's like this evil blue octopus which can kill you in seconds, and snakes, tons of freaky snakes. So many venomous snakes, and oh! There's friggin' evil spiders? Like dozens of them and crap? The documentary showed one and it was bigger than my fist, more like the size of Heavy's fist."
Sniper nodded. "Yeah, we got plenty of those. I wouldn't call 'em evil, though. Animals ain't exactly got morals. Talked it out with Engineer once. He said that 'amoral' would be a better name for it. I just call 'em dinner, though," Sniper said.
"Spiders are evil, everyone knows this, I don't care what fancy degrees you got, they're fuckin' evil and want to lay their eggs in your brain and take over the world. I seen the scifi flicks, all right? They're once drunken scientist's stupid big ass ray away from stompin' around our cities like friggin' Godzilla." Scout gestured with his hands, erratic, even as he seemed to make some airplane noises and crashing buildings, complete with sound effects.
As if he might not get Godzilla. Or just because he wanted to act out the destroying Tokyo scenes.
"You know Godzilla isn't real, right mate?" Sniper said.
"Of course Godzilla is real, just like Gandalf and Merasmus, though he's just a real dorkwad. I can't believe we ever thought he was scary," Scout said.
After last Halloween's feature where he'd stolen their pocket space, he had to agree.
"Okay, big question but, how did you survive? Are you Australians invincible or somethin'?"
Sniper took a sip of his drink, and looked sideways to Scout. He always was a naive sort. Claimed street smarts, but would befriend any killer around.
"You could say that. The Australium does a number. But that ain't all. Every Australian has to train from the day we're born. We get little weights the way you all get pacifiers."
Scout's eyes widened. "Whooa, seriously? Babies liftin' weights, that sounds pretty awesome. Not awesome enough to deal with evil spiders from Australia, but still cool."
"Oh, the spiders aren't even the start. Mate, you might be able to run fast, but that won't save you in Swoopin' season. Those magpies will peck your eyes out if you're not careful," Sniper said. He nodded sagely. "That's why I've got these glasses. It helps me survive a few minutes more. Though none of them are as bad as our worst: the Drop Bear."
"Drop bear? What, is this a pun about bears shittin' in the woods? You are completely jokin' on me," Scout said.
"Naw. You've got to put forks in your hair, Vegemite or toothpaste in your pits, or behind your ears. You could piss on yourself as well, or speak English with an Australian accent. That'll make them think you're Australian, and avoid you," Sniper said.
"Okay, now you're seriously makin' this up. Also, is everythin' piss with you? You gave us friggin' wrapped jars filled with piss last Christmas!"
Sniper pushed his glasses down just enough to show his eyes. "I was protectin' you from the Drop Bears. Piss is a lot easier to deal with than vegemite, that's for damn sure. And if you smell like an Australian, the Drop Bears will assume you'll punch them, and move on."
"Smell like an Australian? Did you guys not discover the shower yet down under?" Scout wrinkled up his nose in a grimace. "I think I get that down under thing now--it means everyone is goin' down wind of you."
"It's simple nature, scent markin' and all that."
"For the last time, piss ain't a perfume. I guess it's a weapon, but mostly it's gross!"
"That's not all," Sniper said.
Sniper took a sip before continuing. He'd pulled off his vest, until it was just his red shirt, buttoned down enough to let in more air. Scout shifted as he waited, his tawny hair sticking every which way from how much he kept running his fingers through it. Sniper took another sip just to make the moment, and anticipation last.
"And?" Scout said. He'd gone from shifting to jiggling his leg in his impatience.
"No need to hurry, Australia's got plenty of animals to spare. See, the Drop bears feed mostly on tourists. They've learned to fear Australians, because we've got Saxton Hale about. They've been punched around enough that they hear so much as a 'g'day' and they go straight back up those trees and pretend to be docile little koalas. Not even Saxton Hale can bring himself to beat up a little baby koala."
"So, I should be fine as long as I never go your godforsaken place? Seriously, though, is there anythin' not tryin' to kill us? I mean, the place said parrots were there, and they can't be that bad. Just always askin' for crackers and stuff. Fluffy little birds. Please tell me the parrots aren't evil too," Scout said.
Sniper slowly shook his head. "Oh, they'll fly in and steal your food. Gnaw on your woodwork, and even bite you. And those beaks can rip out huge chunks of your skin. They might seem harmless, but they're intelligent devils who want nothing more than to break everything in your house and eat out your eyes. Those Cockatoos just love to scream their heads off. They're even louder than you, though I can hardly believe it."
"Oh, screw it!" Scout reached out to cuff him, but it was light, a friendly punch. From what Sniper could tell, from the Scoutus Jackassicus he'd learned, this was a form of bonding.
Sniper continued on, ignoring his new growing bruise.
"Of course, you wouldn't want to sit under those trees anyways. Some of those pine trees have cones bigger than your head. They'll fall down, and smash you up. I wouldn't advise goin' around there, unless you're not attached to your head...or livin'."
"--The fuck? Even the pine trees want to kill us?" Scout did a double take, craning his neck to stare at Sniper with the most shocked expression he'd seen outside of a horror flick. It took some doing to keep his composure, and ruining the whole tale. After all, baiting the tourists was Australia's second most popular pastime, right after kangaroo boxing. He had a lot to live up to.
"Wait, how are you even still alive? Shouldn't Australia be illegal? Some kind of hell on earth? What the fuck, man," Scout said. he was visibly shaken now. Scout checked over his shoulder, as if dreaded koalas might be lurking about.
"Because we punch back," Sniper said calmly.
"Really?" Scout said. He glanced over Sniper's biceps. "Flex for me, then. Prove it."
Scout flexed his bicep, just as he always was, trying to show off what he didn't have. Sniper didn't bother to flex back. Scout was lost in some kind of story where he was an incredibly handsome hero with huge muscles who constantly saved the day. No amount of mirrors, pictures, or reality could sway him from the movie quotes and James Bond knock-off Scout thought he lived in.
"All right, other people punch back. I prefer my guns." Sniper made pistol signs with his fingers.
Scout couldn't resist the chance to join in. He made finger guns, and could barely contain his laughter as he went pew, pew!
"You about done?" Sniper said. It took some doing not to smile at Scout's antics.
"Nope!" Scout said. He went one, shooting his laser finger guns, until he about fell over with laughter.
"You've been drinkin'," Sniper said.
"Nahh, it's just great. You've got your---guns, and me, I've got mine---" Scout tried to flex, but ended up laughing all over again.
"If you haven't been drinkin', then you've got some sense of humor, mate. Just a minute ago you were freakin' out about pine cones."
"Oh, damn, you reminded me. I wanted to believe that at least the trees weren't evil masterminds too! How can even the friggin' pine trees be evil!" Scout looked behind him again, as if a pine tree might be lurking there as well.
"Besides, that ain't even all. Got kangaroos havin' orgies and beatin' the shit out of each other in the streets, and Dingos which will come and eat sharks and your babies. That's why they taught me to shoot before I was even out of my crib. They're mean ones, they are," Sniper said.
"Baby guns?" Scout said, raising one eyebrow.
"I was firin' them before I could walk. Took out my first croc before I was two. This one had learned to take the door down. Don't tell me they ain't even got baby guns where you come from? What kind of place is America if they don't even give their babies guns?"
"Uh--sure, we got guns, and I was runnin' marathons before I could walk," Scout said. But he said it too fast, because he never could tell a good lie. He never could let someone get one over him, even if he had to trip and stumble his way through a story which convinced no one, not even himself.
"Good, because in Australia there's spiders big enough to kill a bird. And crocs bigger than a scooter. But, crocs ain't nothin'. We got snakes that would eat a croc whole, and I've wrestled with enough crocs to say I'd prefer them before those snakes came near. Poison enough to kill a man in seconds," Sniper said.
"Wow, fuck. Did you guys really piss off God or somethin'? How are there so many animals that want to fuck you up?"
"Wouldn't surprise me. If anyone's goin' to incur God's wrath, it's goin' to be the Australians," Sniper said. He nodded, remembering Saxton Hale punching things. Like the Tower of Babel, but with washboard abs.
"But, this stuff is all contained, right? Like the trees aren't goin' to be swimmin' to Boston anytime soon--"
"Nope, Australian exclusive," Sniper said.
Scout let out an audible sigh of relief. "I guess as long as I never go near there, I'll be okay. Just no bringin' back pets," Scout said. He pointed at Sniper, incriminating, like he was some lawyer or something.
"You forget about that base far off the road near Brisbane, mate?" Sniper said.
"The....Fuck! I totally forgot about that base! We ain't even been there yet, 'cause the builders keep getting themselves killed. I bet it was the friggin' spiders."
"Could be," Sniper said. "But my guess is the Drop Bear. Unless they've gotten locals. They're bloodthirsty, and with all these damned nature documentaries, they aren't gettin' enough tourists to eat anymore," Sniper said.
Scout pushed himself up and began to pace. He muttered to himself, almost indiscernible, but Sniper could catch the repeated phrase of 'what the hell' and 'Spiders.'
Sniper put his hat back on. Knowing Scout, the pacing was either going ot take a long time, or be over in a blink. When it came to Scout, there was no in-between.
Scout stopped so abruptly that Sniper thought for a moment he'd smacked into a something. He undid the knots that kept it up, and rubbed his too large red shirt on his face.
"If you're that afraid, you should look Australian. Get yourself some thongs, a nice burn pack. Even the most vicious critters won't touch somebody in goin' out like that," Sniper said.
Because they'd be too busy laughing themselves silly.
"You guys wear thongs? How the hell do you get anythin' done with your ass hangin' out all day?" Scout said incredulously.
"Thongs, mate. You call 'em flip flops over here, for some reason."
"Oh, those! How the hell are they goin' to protect me from the creepy crawlies with my feet all out there?"
"The snakes take one look at all that exposed skin, and with that kind of recklessness, they think you're an Australian," Sniper said.
"Okay, first we gotta bribe someone to go mess up that base so much that it gets abandoned. Second, your van can wait. You gotta come watch this with me and warn me about all this crap. I need all your special stupid Australian copin' methods. That nature thing keeps playin' over and over, so you gotta give me snake punchin' tips."
"Well, first you should get a beer," Sniper said. "That's Australian rule number one."
He all but dragged Sniper up, and kept a hold of his wrist. Sniper took one glance back. The silvery sheen of the tools was blinding in the sunlight.
"At least let me put away my tools," Sniper said.
Scout let go, only to scoop them all up. He had to hand it to the guy, Scout could move fast when he wanted to. Scout dumped the wrenches, the other tools inside, and shoved his can in as well before he slammed down the lid.
"All right, let's haul ass," Scout said.
He took off at a run. Sniper followed along at his own pace. He wasn't one for running about, unless he was getting chased by crocs again. Like a joke he only now could enjoy, Sniper chuckled to himself as he made his way back.
*
Back at the base, Scout slammed his hand against the television to make the static disperse. He'd pulled out a crate of Demoman's Scrumpy. Sniper sure as hell hoped he'd traded for that, because if he was as prone to stealing Demoman's things as he was with Heavy's sandwiches, the whole living room would be blown sky high before the marathon even got half over.
There was a few animal skulls mounted on the walls, a couple fake plants that had been used as ashtrays, and less bullet holes than usual. Either that fancy smancy Spy got sick of looking at them, or he told Miss Pauling, and she called someone in.
"Now, we're on the tracks of the legendary Drop Bear," the announcer said. He put his finger to his mouth.
"Now, I'm goin' to talk very Australian, which will frighten the Drop Bear into a harmless state," The annoucer said, his voice a low whisper. In the Eucalyptus leaves, there was just the sight of something gray and furry.
A plain old koala, but the tourists sure as hell didn't know that.
"You know, you shouldn't look straight on to that TV," Sniper said.
"What? Why? You got monsters which can hypnotize or somethin'?" Scout looked more than a little alarmed as he looked to the shadows of the room.
"The Jogjogs can climb through. They can smell the tourist on you. They tend to target people who watch lots of documentaries. They feast on nerds, mate. So put your legs up so they'll know you work out, and won't try and eat your brains," Sniper said.
Scout drew back, and held a throw pillow in front of him, like a shield. Considering it was purple and floral, he knew that this one had been Miss Pauling's fault. "The what? I ain't a friggin' nerd! Australian fuckin' would have the fuckin' Lovecraft monsters!"
It took some doing to hide his laughter under a cough as Scout flipped upside down, and balanced his feet on the top cushions.
"There, feast your eyes on these thighs! I can jog way better than you, you stupid Australian TV monster!"
The man winked at the screen, but the way it was filmed, it only looked like he was squinting in the sun. Sniper raised up his beer bottle in a salute.
Sniper took a long sip as Scout watched this consummate liar talk all about Australia's greatest joke. He couldn't help but add a little more to that legend.
The key to teasing the tourists was to tell them just enough truth, and then see how much they could get away with. With spiders the size of birds, and animals that looked like some kind of Frankenstein monster, if he were a duck, something like putting vegemite to keep the drop bears away became right sensible.
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout, Sniper
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sniper tells Scout about the Australian wildlife, with some embellishments.
Word count: 3500
Author's note: Inspired largely by the Drop bear In Australia, Even the pine trees want to kill you. And yes, a lot of Sniper's notes on the Australian wildlife really are a thing. Unless all of Australia really is trolling us.
This is set before Blood In The Water, and well before the TF comics or MVM. A pinch hit for SillyScrunchy in TF2 Secret Santa 2015. Due to the subject matter there's mentions (but no actual appearances) of all kinds of creepy crawlies like spiders and snakes.
Depending on how canon you consider the Christmas cards, Sniper really did give everyone Festive Jarate for Christmas. He also sticks "Merry Christmas" on his Festive Huntsman bows, and gave BLU Scout a sweater with a bullseye on it.
Because he's one hell of a passive aggressive wanker, apparently.
According to Merasmus' lines in the last Halloween, apparently Gandalf might be real in TF2verse. Either that or he likes talking to other fictional wizards.
NET (or National Education Television aka PBS as of 1970) is what Scout is watching. To quote Vampire Paladin: According to anecdotal data I have been told it used to be popular for boys to watch due to seeing naked breasts in
Betaed by VampirePaladin.
"Yo, what are you up to?" Scout said. He leaned against the side of the van, then yelped and pulled back. In the shade, Sniper sipped at his coffee. His tools were spread about, close enough to reach when he needed them. They shone silvery in the desert, against sand with an undertone of red.
"Fixin' things. It's cool enough to finally check on why my van's makin' that noise," Sniper said. He pushed off his long-brimmed hat, and set it to rest beside him against the side of the van.
A faint wind blew in his face. Scout had tied up his shirt, in a way that the rest of the mercenaries were too busy laughing at him to ever tell Scout that he looked flipping ridiculous, like he should be putting on a pair of clamdiggers to match.
"You friggin' kiddin' me? It's like a hundred degrees in the friggin' shade," Scout said. He pulled off his gray baseball cap, and rubbed his forehead. "At this rate I'm goin' to have to take another shower, and I'm on my third one already today, and it ain't even five yet."
"Balmy weather compared to the outback," Sniper said.
Scout sat down beside him, the rear tire to his back. He pulled out some soda--not his radioactive type which made him rush about, twitching and quoting movies even more than usual, just a simple cola.
"Want some?" he said, holding the can out.
"I'm good. Already got mine," Sniper said. He held up his beer, if American swill really could be called that, and took a sip.
"If you say so," Scout said. He smirked, as if his jab had been sly and witty. He was always doing things like that. Sniper had gotten used to ignoring Scout's ego for some time.
"Drunken fixin'?" Scout shook his head and laughed. "Good luck findin' the problem when you're seein' three motors and crap."
"Just some sips to calm down. I'm not guzzlin'. Couldn't get drunk on this tap water called beer anyways," Sniper said.
"Race you to the end," Scout said. Scout leaned back and guzzled the rest. Soda dripped down his cheeks and fell to his shirt. "Eh, it's worth it," he said. He tossed the can as hard as he could.
"Out of the park!" He mimicked the sound of slow motion and some action scene as he threw the can outwards. It clattered against Sniper's red and rusted toolbox. "Scooore!"
Scout laughed, and pulled his cap off. "That was some amazin' throw, really. Though, that reminds me! Sniper, your outback place is the most bizarre shit I have ever seen. Man, I was watchin' the NET, because the somebody stole the antenna again and nothin' else is comin' in---bet Engie was makin' evil robots to take over the world, that's my guess. Anyways---"
"And?" Sniper said.
"I'm gettin' to it! So there's like this evil blue octopus which can kill you in seconds, and snakes, tons of freaky snakes. So many venomous snakes, and oh! There's friggin' evil spiders? Like dozens of them and crap? The documentary showed one and it was bigger than my fist, more like the size of Heavy's fist."
Sniper nodded. "Yeah, we got plenty of those. I wouldn't call 'em evil, though. Animals ain't exactly got morals. Talked it out with Engineer once. He said that 'amoral' would be a better name for it. I just call 'em dinner, though," Sniper said.
"Spiders are evil, everyone knows this, I don't care what fancy degrees you got, they're fuckin' evil and want to lay their eggs in your brain and take over the world. I seen the scifi flicks, all right? They're once drunken scientist's stupid big ass ray away from stompin' around our cities like friggin' Godzilla." Scout gestured with his hands, erratic, even as he seemed to make some airplane noises and crashing buildings, complete with sound effects.
As if he might not get Godzilla. Or just because he wanted to act out the destroying Tokyo scenes.
"You know Godzilla isn't real, right mate?" Sniper said.
"Of course Godzilla is real, just like Gandalf and Merasmus, though he's just a real dorkwad. I can't believe we ever thought he was scary," Scout said.
After last Halloween's feature where he'd stolen their pocket space, he had to agree.
"Okay, big question but, how did you survive? Are you Australians invincible or somethin'?"
Sniper took a sip of his drink, and looked sideways to Scout. He always was a naive sort. Claimed street smarts, but would befriend any killer around.
"You could say that. The Australium does a number. But that ain't all. Every Australian has to train from the day we're born. We get little weights the way you all get pacifiers."
Scout's eyes widened. "Whooa, seriously? Babies liftin' weights, that sounds pretty awesome. Not awesome enough to deal with evil spiders from Australia, but still cool."
"Oh, the spiders aren't even the start. Mate, you might be able to run fast, but that won't save you in Swoopin' season. Those magpies will peck your eyes out if you're not careful," Sniper said. He nodded sagely. "That's why I've got these glasses. It helps me survive a few minutes more. Though none of them are as bad as our worst: the Drop Bear."
"Drop bear? What, is this a pun about bears shittin' in the woods? You are completely jokin' on me," Scout said.
"Naw. You've got to put forks in your hair, Vegemite or toothpaste in your pits, or behind your ears. You could piss on yourself as well, or speak English with an Australian accent. That'll make them think you're Australian, and avoid you," Sniper said.
"Okay, now you're seriously makin' this up. Also, is everythin' piss with you? You gave us friggin' wrapped jars filled with piss last Christmas!"
Sniper pushed his glasses down just enough to show his eyes. "I was protectin' you from the Drop Bears. Piss is a lot easier to deal with than vegemite, that's for damn sure. And if you smell like an Australian, the Drop Bears will assume you'll punch them, and move on."
"Smell like an Australian? Did you guys not discover the shower yet down under?" Scout wrinkled up his nose in a grimace. "I think I get that down under thing now--it means everyone is goin' down wind of you."
"It's simple nature, scent markin' and all that."
"For the last time, piss ain't a perfume. I guess it's a weapon, but mostly it's gross!"
"That's not all," Sniper said.
Sniper took a sip before continuing. He'd pulled off his vest, until it was just his red shirt, buttoned down enough to let in more air. Scout shifted as he waited, his tawny hair sticking every which way from how much he kept running his fingers through it. Sniper took another sip just to make the moment, and anticipation last.
"And?" Scout said. He'd gone from shifting to jiggling his leg in his impatience.
"No need to hurry, Australia's got plenty of animals to spare. See, the Drop bears feed mostly on tourists. They've learned to fear Australians, because we've got Saxton Hale about. They've been punched around enough that they hear so much as a 'g'day' and they go straight back up those trees and pretend to be docile little koalas. Not even Saxton Hale can bring himself to beat up a little baby koala."
"So, I should be fine as long as I never go your godforsaken place? Seriously, though, is there anythin' not tryin' to kill us? I mean, the place said parrots were there, and they can't be that bad. Just always askin' for crackers and stuff. Fluffy little birds. Please tell me the parrots aren't evil too," Scout said.
Sniper slowly shook his head. "Oh, they'll fly in and steal your food. Gnaw on your woodwork, and even bite you. And those beaks can rip out huge chunks of your skin. They might seem harmless, but they're intelligent devils who want nothing more than to break everything in your house and eat out your eyes. Those Cockatoos just love to scream their heads off. They're even louder than you, though I can hardly believe it."
"Oh, screw it!" Scout reached out to cuff him, but it was light, a friendly punch. From what Sniper could tell, from the Scoutus Jackassicus he'd learned, this was a form of bonding.
Sniper continued on, ignoring his new growing bruise.
"Of course, you wouldn't want to sit under those trees anyways. Some of those pine trees have cones bigger than your head. They'll fall down, and smash you up. I wouldn't advise goin' around there, unless you're not attached to your head...or livin'."
"--The fuck? Even the pine trees want to kill us?" Scout did a double take, craning his neck to stare at Sniper with the most shocked expression he'd seen outside of a horror flick. It took some doing to keep his composure, and ruining the whole tale. After all, baiting the tourists was Australia's second most popular pastime, right after kangaroo boxing. He had a lot to live up to.
"Wait, how are you even still alive? Shouldn't Australia be illegal? Some kind of hell on earth? What the fuck, man," Scout said. he was visibly shaken now. Scout checked over his shoulder, as if dreaded koalas might be lurking about.
"Because we punch back," Sniper said calmly.
"Really?" Scout said. He glanced over Sniper's biceps. "Flex for me, then. Prove it."
Scout flexed his bicep, just as he always was, trying to show off what he didn't have. Sniper didn't bother to flex back. Scout was lost in some kind of story where he was an incredibly handsome hero with huge muscles who constantly saved the day. No amount of mirrors, pictures, or reality could sway him from the movie quotes and James Bond knock-off Scout thought he lived in.
"All right, other people punch back. I prefer my guns." Sniper made pistol signs with his fingers.
Scout couldn't resist the chance to join in. He made finger guns, and could barely contain his laughter as he went pew, pew!
"You about done?" Sniper said. It took some doing not to smile at Scout's antics.
"Nope!" Scout said. He went one, shooting his laser finger guns, until he about fell over with laughter.
"You've been drinkin'," Sniper said.
"Nahh, it's just great. You've got your---guns, and me, I've got mine---" Scout tried to flex, but ended up laughing all over again.
"If you haven't been drinkin', then you've got some sense of humor, mate. Just a minute ago you were freakin' out about pine cones."
"Oh, damn, you reminded me. I wanted to believe that at least the trees weren't evil masterminds too! How can even the friggin' pine trees be evil!" Scout looked behind him again, as if a pine tree might be lurking there as well.
"Besides, that ain't even all. Got kangaroos havin' orgies and beatin' the shit out of each other in the streets, and Dingos which will come and eat sharks and your babies. That's why they taught me to shoot before I was even out of my crib. They're mean ones, they are," Sniper said.
"Baby guns?" Scout said, raising one eyebrow.
"I was firin' them before I could walk. Took out my first croc before I was two. This one had learned to take the door down. Don't tell me they ain't even got baby guns where you come from? What kind of place is America if they don't even give their babies guns?"
"Uh--sure, we got guns, and I was runnin' marathons before I could walk," Scout said. But he said it too fast, because he never could tell a good lie. He never could let someone get one over him, even if he had to trip and stumble his way through a story which convinced no one, not even himself.
"Good, because in Australia there's spiders big enough to kill a bird. And crocs bigger than a scooter. But, crocs ain't nothin'. We got snakes that would eat a croc whole, and I've wrestled with enough crocs to say I'd prefer them before those snakes came near. Poison enough to kill a man in seconds," Sniper said.
"Wow, fuck. Did you guys really piss off God or somethin'? How are there so many animals that want to fuck you up?"
"Wouldn't surprise me. If anyone's goin' to incur God's wrath, it's goin' to be the Australians," Sniper said. He nodded, remembering Saxton Hale punching things. Like the Tower of Babel, but with washboard abs.
"But, this stuff is all contained, right? Like the trees aren't goin' to be swimmin' to Boston anytime soon--"
"Nope, Australian exclusive," Sniper said.
Scout let out an audible sigh of relief. "I guess as long as I never go near there, I'll be okay. Just no bringin' back pets," Scout said. He pointed at Sniper, incriminating, like he was some lawyer or something.
"You forget about that base far off the road near Brisbane, mate?" Sniper said.
"The....Fuck! I totally forgot about that base! We ain't even been there yet, 'cause the builders keep getting themselves killed. I bet it was the friggin' spiders."
"Could be," Sniper said. "But my guess is the Drop Bear. Unless they've gotten locals. They're bloodthirsty, and with all these damned nature documentaries, they aren't gettin' enough tourists to eat anymore," Sniper said.
Scout pushed himself up and began to pace. He muttered to himself, almost indiscernible, but Sniper could catch the repeated phrase of 'what the hell' and 'Spiders.'
Sniper put his hat back on. Knowing Scout, the pacing was either going ot take a long time, or be over in a blink. When it came to Scout, there was no in-between.
Scout stopped so abruptly that Sniper thought for a moment he'd smacked into a something. He undid the knots that kept it up, and rubbed his too large red shirt on his face.
"If you're that afraid, you should look Australian. Get yourself some thongs, a nice burn pack. Even the most vicious critters won't touch somebody in goin' out like that," Sniper said.
Because they'd be too busy laughing themselves silly.
"You guys wear thongs? How the hell do you get anythin' done with your ass hangin' out all day?" Scout said incredulously.
"Thongs, mate. You call 'em flip flops over here, for some reason."
"Oh, those! How the hell are they goin' to protect me from the creepy crawlies with my feet all out there?"
"The snakes take one look at all that exposed skin, and with that kind of recklessness, they think you're an Australian," Sniper said.
"Okay, first we gotta bribe someone to go mess up that base so much that it gets abandoned. Second, your van can wait. You gotta come watch this with me and warn me about all this crap. I need all your special stupid Australian copin' methods. That nature thing keeps playin' over and over, so you gotta give me snake punchin' tips."
"Well, first you should get a beer," Sniper said. "That's Australian rule number one."
He all but dragged Sniper up, and kept a hold of his wrist. Sniper took one glance back. The silvery sheen of the tools was blinding in the sunlight.
"At least let me put away my tools," Sniper said.
Scout let go, only to scoop them all up. He had to hand it to the guy, Scout could move fast when he wanted to. Scout dumped the wrenches, the other tools inside, and shoved his can in as well before he slammed down the lid.
"All right, let's haul ass," Scout said.
He took off at a run. Sniper followed along at his own pace. He wasn't one for running about, unless he was getting chased by crocs again. Like a joke he only now could enjoy, Sniper chuckled to himself as he made his way back.
*
Back at the base, Scout slammed his hand against the television to make the static disperse. He'd pulled out a crate of Demoman's Scrumpy. Sniper sure as hell hoped he'd traded for that, because if he was as prone to stealing Demoman's things as he was with Heavy's sandwiches, the whole living room would be blown sky high before the marathon even got half over.
There was a few animal skulls mounted on the walls, a couple fake plants that had been used as ashtrays, and less bullet holes than usual. Either that fancy smancy Spy got sick of looking at them, or he told Miss Pauling, and she called someone in.
"Now, we're on the tracks of the legendary Drop Bear," the announcer said. He put his finger to his mouth.
"Now, I'm goin' to talk very Australian, which will frighten the Drop Bear into a harmless state," The annoucer said, his voice a low whisper. In the Eucalyptus leaves, there was just the sight of something gray and furry.
A plain old koala, but the tourists sure as hell didn't know that.
"You know, you shouldn't look straight on to that TV," Sniper said.
"What? Why? You got monsters which can hypnotize or somethin'?" Scout looked more than a little alarmed as he looked to the shadows of the room.
"The Jogjogs can climb through. They can smell the tourist on you. They tend to target people who watch lots of documentaries. They feast on nerds, mate. So put your legs up so they'll know you work out, and won't try and eat your brains," Sniper said.
Scout drew back, and held a throw pillow in front of him, like a shield. Considering it was purple and floral, he knew that this one had been Miss Pauling's fault. "The what? I ain't a friggin' nerd! Australian fuckin' would have the fuckin' Lovecraft monsters!"
It took some doing to hide his laughter under a cough as Scout flipped upside down, and balanced his feet on the top cushions.
"There, feast your eyes on these thighs! I can jog way better than you, you stupid Australian TV monster!"
The man winked at the screen, but the way it was filmed, it only looked like he was squinting in the sun. Sniper raised up his beer bottle in a salute.
Sniper took a long sip as Scout watched this consummate liar talk all about Australia's greatest joke. He couldn't help but add a little more to that legend.
The key to teasing the tourists was to tell them just enough truth, and then see how much they could get away with. With spiders the size of birds, and animals that looked like some kind of Frankenstein monster, if he were a duck, something like putting vegemite to keep the drop bears away became right sensible.
