Hello everybody. I'm new here on Team Fortress fanfiction, though I am familiar with some of the works here by now. The characters are so whimsical and humorous, and while they lack proper backstory and plot, this allows all the readers to manipulate these traits into something entirely unique. This idea popped up before I even looked up on this archive, but by the time I clicked on the front page, I already saw that there were at least five other stories featuring fem characters on the first page alone, so I'm really sorry if you happen to find the subject repetitive. That said, I'll try to make this as unique as I can make it, so I hope you can enjoy. This fic will appear as a semi-serious fic. Of course, if it involves the other TF2 guys, I'll throw in some humor here and there. Oh, and while Sniper appears as a sort of main character in this story, I'll occasionally show the point of view of other people. If I happen to make any errors regarding the Team Fortress universe, grammar errors, or anything else, don't hesitate to tell me. This is my first TF2 story, so please review! Thank you.

A/N: This particular chapter, as well as the overall title, was inspired by Richard Connell's story of the same name. "The Most Dangerous Game" (not mine) is a good short story that I highly recommend.

"Bloody hell...?"

RED Sniper had hunted many types of dangerous game in the savannahs of the Australian Outback, and he knew when animals felt fear when they were in his scopes. But when he observed his newest peculiar prey, he didn't know what to think of it. As he sat at the edge of his window in his sniper nest/bedroom in the old Fastlane, the Aussie found the most unusual quarry. He'd hunted the "most dangerous game" plenty of times, especially with the BLUs, though this wasn't the case right here. No, this was a much more... unique catch. Several times he tried cleaning the scope, or removing and polishing his shooting glasses, but the Outbacker's keen eyesight had never failed him, and it wasn't about to now.

A strange woman was prancing about in the middle of a battlefield. She wore a uniform, though it wasn't a BLU uniform, not bearing the color or emblem, it was a military-esque uniform nonetheless. It was like an olive drab battle dress uniform. A simple observation yielded that she was in her mid-twenties, had short shoulder-length black hair, brown eyes, and a rifle strapped to her back, and this observation was without a scope. Upon a closer inspection, just the subtle movements and gestures on her face told a lot about her. The mystery woman was panicked. Frantic. She seemed already aware someone was watching her, as she carefully advanced from one point of cover to the other, looking all around her for the stalker. She knew she was being hunted, in some way or another.

And Sniper knew he was a damn good hunter. She often hid behind crates and around the corners of buildings, but because she was unaware of the point of origin her alleged "stalker" was, or if there even was someone or something watching her, the Australian had no problem keeping his sights on her. As Sniper had her in his crosshairs, he was unsure of what to do. There was a battle going on, and he really should be sending his fellow REDs some sniper support, as they controlled the several key points of the map, while capturing the BLUs' remaining command points to banish them altogether. Does he just shoot the trigger and forget all about her? Does he ignore her and turn his attention to her later?

As Sniper contemplated, he opted for the plan to incapacitate her somehow and bring her for questioning, though this would be difficult. He had several distractions around him, and while it was easy to catch up with her on his scope, the constant sounds of the fray across the area proved to be a bit of a hindrance, not to mention the rumbling and subtle shaking of the wooden building as BLU troops hopelessly storm the RED's base, and actually aiming for areas like the head were a tad difficult. Plus, the Aussie didn't know what this lass was capable of. Rolling the dice, Sniper tried his luck and took a shot near her feet, just to see how she'd react. A slight grin developed as she frantically jumped and ran to another part of cover. He took another shot, just to scare her again, and corner her at a clear vantage point at the same time. One of the rules of hunting was to conserve your energy and keep your nerves steady, while backing your prey into a corner. And the bushman was doing just that, until the woman had nowhere else to move, and she was backed into a dead end of an alleyway. Satisfied, Sniper removed his standard sniper rounds from the bolt and loaded tranquilizer rounds instead. He rarely ever used such ammunition, only on occasions when the RED's own Demoman got horribly drunk and disorderly, Heavy was on a hunger rampage, or if Scout was being annoying (which he practically was all the time).

The woman in Sniper's crosshairs was looking all around her, though she now held the rifle strapped on her back in her hands. Still, it didn't help when the sheila had her back on him. Focused, the Australian hunter had her head in the center of his scope.

"Sweet dreams, Missy..."


"What the bloody hell?!" Sniper yelled, looking behind him. An unlucky BLU Spy fell for the oldest trick in the book, and was electrocuted by the Razorback that the Sniper had so luckily chosen to keep on his person. Stunned from the unexpected surprise, the Spy was disoriented from the shock. Dropping the rifle and taking out his trusty Kukri, Sniper took a big swipe with the blade. The Spy recovered and retaliated with a block and attempted to stab the Aussie in the stomach with his own knife. Dodging the attack, Sniper took the Kukri and back hand slashed the Spy, leaving a large gash across the devious Frenchman's chest.

"Aww, did I get blood on your suit?" Sniper asked mockingly.

The hunter could see the Spy's brows furrow from under the balaclava, and the backstabber attempted to throw the knife toward the Sniper's head, only to get the bushman's hat that rested atop his head, pinning it to the wall. Bewildered, Sniper felt the top of his head, only to feel his short frizzy hair in place of his traditional slouch hat.

"That was my favorite hat, ya filthy snake..." Sniper mumbled, pointing the bloody Kukri at the Spy. Panicked, the usually calm and collected Frenchman reached for his revolver in an act of desperation, only to be stabbed through the chest by the Sniper's blade. "Well, idn't this ironic?" the bushman said, as he retracted the Kukri and the Spy crumpled to the ground. Satisfied, Sniper took the hat pinned on the wall and dusted it off. He noticed the tear and hole on its center and sighed.

"Bloody Spies... Go to hell, wanka..."

Resting his hat down, he went back to the sniper rifle on the ground and looked through the window. The woman he had seen earlier before the Spy's intrusion was nowhere to be found.

"Ah, piss!" he cursed.

Frustrated, he took out his anger on the nearest moving object that had the color blue, which happened to be an unlucky BLU Scout. Aiming, he fired a shot into the leg of the fast-talking hooligan, making him fall face flat on the ground, shutting him up effectively. Sniper still felt a bit distressed, but the suffering of one of those twitchy pikers was enough to subside his anger for a little bit. Shrugging the fact a strange girl was wandering the field, he continued with his original objective of providing sniper support fire and causing havoc in the BLU team's ranks. The next targets of his hunt was a BLU Medic and a Soldier combo. Aiming for the Medic's head first, he lined the crosshairs right between the German's spectacles.

"You guys are gonna have to find another use for those necks..."

The battle was a success, and the BLUs were once again driven out of Fastlane, though the poor bastards never seem to take a hint and keep coming back for more. Still, they REDs had won, and they would be able to rest easy for the time being. The team celebrated with Demoman's stash of scrumpy and other spirits. However, something still troubled a particular Australian.

Taking a swig of some scotch the Black Scotsman had given him earlier, Sniper continuously looked through the window of his sniper's nest. His unwavering curiosity and annoyance of her stayed in his mind. To add to the frustration, his favorite hat was ruined, leaving him to wear another hat, his Professional's Panama. The sun had set, and he was looking at the deep midnight sky through the windows. The bushman hadn't told anyone of his discovery, because no one in their right minds would believe him. Hell, even Sniper had a hard time believing what the hell he'd seen. Putting down the bottle of scotch, he went through a box in his room before finding his cigar case. Taking one and lighting it, Sniper inhaled deeply. As the smoke flew from his breath, a knocking on Sniper's door could be heard.

"Yeah, come in," Sniper said, before going back to enjoying his smoke.

"Yo, Snipes. What's up? Why you ain't down partyin' with the rest of us?"

Though Scout couldn't see it in the dimly lit room, Sniper had a scowl on his face. Scout was the second most annoying person on the team, next to Spy, whom the Sniper shared an intense rivalry with.

"Listen here, mate. You've done some... scouting around the area, right?" Sniper asked, uneasily, waiting for some wisecrack.

The Boston resident raised a brow and laughed. "Well I wouldn't be a friggin' Scout if I didn't scout, would I? I thought you were smart, Snipes. Don't tell me next that'cha thought those jars on ya shelf was apple juice!"

Sniper's brows furrowed, and he felt himself ball a fist. It took a lot of self control not to use a tranq round on Scout. It was a simple question, and the reason he'd asked was because Scouts don't typically explore the area as their name suggests. They were a hit-and-run unit that also helped capture key points and intelligence.

"I don't need yer insults, ya bludger! All I'm want to ask, is that have you seen any... strange people here in the area? As in, non RED or BLU?"

The wise-guy raised a brow, not looking like he was about to insult him, but rather actually thought on the question. "Who the hell's gonna be here in Fastlane besides us?"

Sniper inhaled another breath from his cigar and looked back out the window. "I think we've got a visitor here."

Scout raised a brow skeptically. "What, like a Spy or somethin'? We already got enough a' those two-timin', backstabbin' scumbags here."

Sniper grinned and nodded at that comment. He grabbed his scotch bottle. "I'll drink to that, mate. Anyway, she might be. Whatever the reason lad, we'll have to be wary of her..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... 'She?' 'Her?' As in a chick?" Scout asked bewildered.

"Yeah, that's right. We've got a sheila here. Of course, maybe one of those bloody Spies was stupid enough to disguise themselves and put on breasts and a pretty face, but I think even they are a bit too smart and too dignified to resort to that."

"Maybe you give 'em too much credit, Snipa'."

"Maybe..." Sniper said as he went back to his smoke. "Maybe..."

"Awright, man. Well, I be on the lookout for some crazy chick, but I gotta go back to the party. Someone's gotta keep these knuckleheads in line, right? 'Cause between that black drunk cyclops, a deranged Soldier, and that fatty fat guy, I think dat I'm the only sane one here. Well, me and you, Snipes," Scout said, he closed the door to the Sniper's nest. But before closing it all the way, Scout popped his head back in. "Oh, and uh... nice hat..." Scout said, before closing the door. Snickering from beyond the door soon ensued. Sniper adjusted the panama on his head before hawking and spitting in a nearby jar.

"Believe me, ya twitchy hooligan... You are far from the most sane... You were right about me, but... Hell, the bloody Heavy talks to his gun, and I think he's got more brains than you, mate."

Night skies, and a sea of stars were all that greeted Sniper. The Australian bushman fruitlessly looked from his vantage point all over for the (supposed) woman, as the cool winds blew against him. He didn't get too far on his scotch, and instead opted for some decaffeinated coffee on his traditional #1 Sniper mug to keep his nerves steady. Even though it was now close to midnight, the guys downstairs were still partying, and most likely drunk. Medic and Engineer, the surprisingly smart two, were most likely in their bunks sleeping, or at least attempting to. Even though Sniper was upstairs, he could hear what sounded like singing. This could only mean one thing: Drunk karaoke. Currently, from the noises downstairs, Scout was singing.

"Oh, God save the Queen... Scout sounds like some bloody piker raping a car alarm..."

Putting ear plugs in, Sniper set down his rifle. It was getting late, and even though the BLUs were temporarily driven out, it wouldn't do the team much good if he was up all night searching for some girl, whom Sniper was doubting her existence as the minutes went by. Using up the last bit of goodness in his cigar, Sniper tossed it out of his window. However, upon tossing it, he saw a strange reddish glowing dot off in the distance. He adjusted his shooting glasses carefully, until it was safe to say he wasn't seeing things.

"What the... do I see a cherry over there?"

The "cherry" he was referring to was undoubtedly the small embers coming from someone's smoke. He had a knack for spotting them, especially seeing them on cloaked BLU Spies who liked to smoke in the middle of a battle. And amidst the darkness of the night, this cherry stood out like a sore thumb. Perking up again, the Aussie took the sniper rifle leaning on the wall and looked through the scope. Grinning, he saw none other than the strange woman, still clad in her greenish uniform, smoking a cigarette in the nightfall. Quickly taking a tranq round from his vest, he early fired. However, Sniper cursed when he saw that he rushed in firing, only picking off the cigarette from her mouth. Still looking from the scope, Sniper saw that the woman was shocked, but what surprised him was that shortly after, she was looking right at him. From the scope, it was as if she was glaring at him, right there, straight in the eyes. The black-haired sheila took her rifle and opened fire. Sniper ducked below his window, as a bullet flew right above him, and shattering a Jarate jar on his shelf. Cursing on how he was going to clean that up, Sniper loaded another round into the sniper rifle. Getting back up and looking back into the scope, he saw that the rifle the woman had was her own sniper rifle. Before he could aim, the girl had already fired another shot, this time grazing the bushman's arm. Ducking again, he felt the warm blood trickle down on his arm. Instead showing about a fit anger or annoyance, Sniper smiled.

"Ooh... I love it when they fight back..."

Sniper duels like this filled the hunter with adrenaline, as he raised up and took aim. He fired a shot, though it hit the woman's leg. Sniper cursed by yelling the word "piss" again at his aim. The rush and the dark affected him greatly. The sedatives would probably knock her out in due time spreading from her leg, but not fast enough. Not if he wanted to bag her and still keep his head. He took another tranquilizer round and peered his head. Her aim was a tad off, missing Sniper's head by inches. He fired back before ducking from another bullet. The bushman was no cowardly Spy, but he was forced to look for a way to finish the fight without risking his neck. The girl's aim was good, if not rough around the edges. Still, she had dangerous enthusiasm. Calmly looking around his room for something, Sniper noticed his torn hat resting on a crate, and an idea developed in his head. The bushman had never tried the idea, considering he'd never sacrifice a good hat, but since it was ruined anyway, he decided to have a crack at it. Crawling under the windowsill, he took the hat and placed it on the stock of his sniper rifle. Still hiding himself under the window, he took raised the rifle up, just enough to reveal the hat, and occasionally bobbed it up and down. After waiting a couple seconds, the hat was impacted by another sniper round, flying off before falling daintily back on the ground. Lowering the rifle, he waited for a minute or so. Sniper was no Spy, but he saw how faking your death like that lifted some weight off your shoulders, if only for a while. But for now, the Australian waited. The suspense was killing him. After about another five minutes, Sniper peered his head again, sniper rifle tightly gripped in his hands. He saw that the woman was now back to her smoke, thinking she killed the man and now had a time to catch her breath. A smug and triumphant grin developed on Snipers face, as he loaded a final tranq round into the chamber. Taking a steady aim, he lined the woman's neck in the crosshairs.

"Steady, steady..."

Lightly squeezing the trigger, the woman flinched, before dropping like a stone on the ground. Taking the scotch bottle and downing its contents in a way Demoman would be proud, Sniper congratulated himself. The hunter rushed out of his room and downstairs, with his rifle and a camera in hand, so he could personally commemorate his latest quarry, and drag the woman's unconscious body while he was at it. Along the way, he saw Heavy passed out on the floor, a bottle of vodka in one hand, and a "sandvich" in the other. Pyro was lazily resting on a chair, but whether he was passed out or just sitting was unknown. Soldier was attempting to juggle grenades, while slurring something about Frederick the Great and General Patton. Medic and Engineer were nowwhere to be found. However, the most creepy scene Sniper witnessed, was the trio of Scout, Demoman, and most disturbing of all, Spy, all drunk, maiming the once proud Beatles soundtrack, a band Sniper actually liked.

"She loves ya, yeah, yeah, yeah! She loves ya, yeah, yeah yeah!" they sung together, in a cacophony of off key and horrible voices.

"Wit' a love like dat, you know you should be glad!" Scout finished, causing a bunch of slurred laughter from everyone else. Everyone took another swig from the bottle in their hands.

Sniper scoffed at the sight and sound of that, as he continued on.

A few minutes walk, Sniper saw the woman snoozing on the ground. She made light snores, as her chest slightly rose up and down. Kneeling down, Sniper took a good look at her mouth, tempted to yank her teeth out to make a necklace, or perhaps decorate his panama for all the trouble she'd caused him. Inspecting her face, it looks like she was in her mid to late twenties, and seen some combat before, but yet remained unscathed. The woman had pale skin, though a cheek looked as though it had been smudged by dirt. She looked almost too innocent for combat though. But from his earlier battle, that innocence hid a deadly killer. So as Sniper yanked the girl up to his level from her short hair, and showed her off like a fisherman after catching a trout, he was able to take his hunting photo with pride. Aiming the camera at himself and showing off a pose and smile, the bushman clicked the camera and the flash briefly shone. Satisfied, Sniper took ropes and bound together her hands and legs. Then, picking her up, Sniper looked at the already developed photo in his hands. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the unconscious girl and himself posing next to her.

"Heh... Looks like I've caught the most dangerous game. Those blokes back at RED base'll never believe this!"