Chapter Text
An alarm clock goes off, sitting in the built in nook of the campervan ‘bedroom’, only to be swiftly whacked into snooze mode, the act repeating itself three times before the bundle of blankets pulled itself out of bed and began trudging towards the kitchenette.
This occurred like clockwork on the edge of the RED base proper every day, though the man going through these motions wasn’t aware of that fact. Awareness came to him slowly enough that it was only when he reached up to a cupboard he realized he had no idea what he was going to grab. This realization was followed by a few others that were quickly categorized in his head as more important.
- He had no idea where he was
- He had no idea who he was
- He had a mild headache
The mild headache got the honour of being elevated to importance, something that would surely make the other minor maladies around town supremely jealous, due the fact that his head seemed to be empty of just about everything else. It wasn’t alone for long as subdued panic moved into the neighborhood soon after.
“No worries.” he lied to himself, sure he wouldn’t get anywhere without maintaining his composure. His voice came out hoarse as he finished the motion of opening the cabinet to reveal a series of mismatched mugs. He was thirsty, great, he could work with that, he was a man in some kind of camper van who got thirsty in the mornings. At this rate his full identity would come to him before the day's end, masterful detective work on his part.
Taking down a mug and filling it with water from the sink felt like a normal enough motion to him, wondering if the van had its own stand alone water supply, or if it was hooked up somewhere outside, more of a stationary trailer home situation. Outside. Now that was a frightening concept a bit too out of his wheelhouse to confront right now. Ha. Wheelhouse. His house was on wheels.
If this was his house.
The space was certainly lived-in, cluttered but not messy, per se. He noted that while he could see some bunched up clothes tossed on the bench (was his favourite colour red?) the walking space was completely clear of anything that could be tripped on.
The various tchotchkes around the space certainly told a story or two, he just needed to figure out what that story was. He looked at the tat around him; a North American bird watching book (is that where he was?), a well worn slouch hat he quickly set on his head, and various collected animal bones, then he properly absorbed what it said on his mug.
#1 Sniper
He looked at the words and back to the animal bones and connected the two dots. He was a hunter. That meant somewhere he had- ah, there.
The hunter, now there was an identity, set down his mug and picked up the rifle that was mounted on the wall and considered the weight of it in his hands. It felt right, as right as anything had in his minutes of memory. He wondered if the muscle memory he had relied on thus far would still know how-
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
He almost dropped the gun he now had his identity built around as the door to the outside was whammed on with gusto. After having his heart jump into his chest, the hunter found his hands shifting to hold the gun with a lot more confidence than he was currently able to match.
“Snipes! You’re not gonna believe dis, you gotta see what Engie built! Get uuuuuuuuup!” the loud voice was followed by more banging. He had a nickname and apparently a friend close enough to him that it wasn’t unbelievably rude to act like this towards him. He moved to open the door to the trailer before realizing he was still holding the rifle, and was still in only a white tank top and charcoal briefs.
“Uhh, just a moment! Having a bit of a rough one here!” Snipes quickly scampered to put the rifle back in place and to grab at some of the loose clothes, giving each of them a sniff before settling on just tossing on a pair of daks and some leather thongs to make his feet look less exposed, the socks laying about in the open being a lost cause.
“Come ooooooon.” he winced at the obvious annoyance in his friend’s voice. Maybe he should wait till he was feeling a bit better before letting the whole amnesia thing slip. Make it less awkward. When he opened the door and was met with a baseball cap wearing young man bouncing in place looking fully exasperated with him, he winced and settled on bringing up the memory thing later.
“Sorry I took so long, mate. Show me the way to, uh-” what was that proper noun again? “-Engie’s thing.” Hopefully that was also some kind of nickname, what poor guy’s parents names their kid-
Thoughts about names and parents- god that was something to consider, whether or not he had a family of his own and how mad they would be at him for going and forgetting them- had to wait, as his friend was already booking it to a nearby building at an impressive pace. He figured the guy would explode if he didn’t at least power walk in pursuit, all he was willing to do with his choice of footwear. The red wearing runner (same shade of red as all the rank clothes in the camper, maybe it was some kind of uniform thing? ) at least waited for him in intervals, at the door and then at each turn inside of the concrete building. Snipes didn’t have time to absorb much, but the odd crate labelled RED in big letters was hard to ignore.
“You’re gonna love this, or maybe you won't, but that don’t matter cause Engie’s already said he’s gonna get some Tom Jones stuff for it and then no one's gonna not be able to love it!” the words didn’t make much sense to him but he appreciated that he didn't seem to need to add anything to the conversation for it to self-propel. Words came to the kid as fast as he moved. “Just a warning though, Medic’s been in a mood all morning, I haven’t seen the guy this pissed since they made him give back dat severed head.”
What.
“He snapped at Heavy , and if even the big guy can’t get on his good side you know I’m staying outta his way, I don’t care if it’s our day off I don’t trust the doc to not take that saw of his to my guts when he’s in a mood.”
What?
“Like I swear the doc takes the fact we can’t, like, die , as a challenge sometimes. Like remember last time I skipped my medical exam? Who takes out a dude’s appendix while he’s fully with it? Hurt like a bitch, and I didn’t even have appenda-whatis. Hey, are you payin’ attention?” A hand waved in front of his eyes, but all the hunter could think was-
WHAT?!