Hello everyone, I’ve decided to stop being a Big Lurker in this fandom and progress to having a go at contributing something. While this chapter isn’t very graphic, my plan is for future chapters to get darker, which is why I thought it’s best to place this story here in afanfic rather than the fiction board. As this is my first TF2 work if anyone has any comments and or constructive criticism they would like to make, they would be most welcome and appreciated. CHAPTER ONE “Did you know that the Romans feared their dead?†The remaining eight BLU mercenaries around the table stopped eating slowly. One by one they paused in the methodical consumption of meat and potatoes that they had filled the silence of the last two minutes with. No-one seemed to want to speak next but, after a considerable pause when the only sounds involved the drumming of the rain on the windows around them and the faint whining of the failing extractor fan, Scout broke rank first. “Bunch of pussies if you ask me! Didn’t they have Respawn back then? No? Well too fuckin’ bad, they deserved to all die out and give way to us!†Several pieces of cutlery were dropped heavily onto the table’s surface, their former owners now consigned to the inevitable continuation of a topic their expressions made clear would not contain any relevance, interest or even the slightest hint of titillation. Encouraged by a response that didn’t involve something being thrown at him, Medic sat up straighter and clasped his hands together, resting them on top of his half-eaten dinner as he leant forward expectantly. “Ja! There was genuine concern that if they weren’t treated with the appropriate degree of respect, the spirits of the dead would return to wreak terrible revenge!†The unimpressed silence did nothing to deter Medic’s enthusiasm as he made eye contact with all of his teammates around the table. “The body would be washed and anointed three days after expunging its life form, as people believed that the corpse had been polluted – tainted – by death, and would not rest easy without a ceremonial cleansing. As if it would come back to life and run towards its nearest and dearest demanding to know why its hair had not been shampooed correctly!†Medic rocked back into his chair, laughing loudly at the thought, as he saw his teammates exchange glances and silent questions they were reluctant to ask out loud again. Yesterday he’d been asked in all seriousness about his mental stability, the day before that he’d been drilled on what exactly he’d done to lose his medical licence and only this morning he’d once again had to confirm that, yes, he actually had trained as a genuine doctor at a genuine place of learning that, yes, really did exist in the real world. Medic took a long, deep, indulgent breath in and resumed a vertical position, his hands splayed across the debris of the meal in front of him as he felt his eyes begin to widen behind his glasses. “And that doesn’t even begin to honour the servants who would have been slaughtered at the graveside they gathered around! The warrior’s horse would, I think, have been drained of blood first, but-†“God damn it enough!†Engineer pushed his half-full pate away from him and raised his hands imploringly into the air in front of him. “Why is it always death? Why? Would it be so difficult to start talking about something else? Food? Music? An unexpected discovery of well needed copper conduits? No-one wants to hear about this nonsense over a nice meal!†Medic’s face twisted upwards, first his nose at the word ‘nonsense’ and then his eyebrows in quick response at the word ‘nice.’ “I did not realise I troubled your thoughts so Engineer! For a master mechanic of death, you seem surprisingly agitated by the topic.†Engineer raised his eyes to the ceiling as Demoman put down his bottle and took over. “It’s not just him doc; we blow our respective counterparts – God spit on them – to bits all day long and while I’m not ever gonna complain about that, you do bang on about it a bit don’t ya?†“Yeah man exactly!†Scout chipped in, as he stabbed a potato with his fork and started waving it around. “If I wanted to be bored I’d read a book! Yeah! An actual goddamn book the size of this table with words and diagrams and shit in it. Yeah, I’d-†“In the absence of any other meaningful conversation around this table I was only trying to lighten the mood!†Medic snapped. “Things have been challenging enough and, as they say, knowledge is power, so, the more you know the more you-“ “Wish you hadn’t known in the first place yeah, doc, we get it, thanks,†Sniper surmised, taking care to place his knife and fork down on either side of his near empty plate and carefully straightening them. Medic’s face evolved into a superior snarl if only for a second, before he acknowledged the benefits of relaxing it into a neutral expression complete with tilted head and widening eyes. Yes, that would do nicely for the show of remorse he was now expected to provide. “I was only trying to-“ “Lighten the mood, yeah, we know, but that’s not what this is meant to be,†Sniper sighed as he folded his arms across his chest. “If we’ve got to do this then we should at least do it right.†Spy’s snort provoked Sniper’s arms to constrict tightly across his body and his eyes to drift sideways, taking in Spy’s unashamed smirk and relaxed demeanour. “If we’ve got to do this then we should do it right! Should do it correctly and professionally and to the best of our abilities.†Medic glanced at Spy’s untouched plate of food and knew Spy would maintain his indulgent grin but would not make another noise, as if to do so would only provoke Sniper more and draw this interminable meal out longer. “All we need to do,†Sniper continued, forcing his arms to resume a relaxed position at his sides, “is to have a meal. Have a conversation. Have a period of time when we’re concentrating on each other and focusing on why we’ve not achieved what we’ve wanted to achieve.†At these words Heavy glanced downwards and Soldier stood up sharply, his napkin tucked in neatly beneath his collar. “We are doing this because it’s our duty! Our orders! Our way to progress to victory and worthwhile domination!†Soldier stood to attention as if being judged on it and clenched his right fist in an imagined victory. “Yeah you tell him Uncle Sam!†Scout yelled, giving Solider a mock salute that was returned crisply as the extractor fan’s whining intensified and the wind blew harder. Medic’s felt his skin itch with irritation, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to revert the talk back to the ingenuity of human sacrifice without spending more time defending his perfectly healthy mind. “Well I for one do not think this completely necessary, do not think it-†“Of course it’s not necessary doc, it’s required! We have to meet here and we have to talk.†Sniper slowly drew out his kukri and rested the long flat blade on his plate. The slow screech of metal on metal as the knife was rotated in an achingly slow circle set Medic’s teeth on edge. He wondered when Sniper’s next dental check-up was, and made a mental note to consult his records to ensure it was soon. “And when I say talk,†Sniper continued, “I don’t mean a detailed debate about gore and death and how bloody fantastic they both are. As Demo just pointed out we get enough of those as it is and, as you really should know by now, a lack of enthusiasm in those areas didn’t get us to where we are now. So, please, if you – if anyone – is going to start talking, make the bloody effort to ensure it’s about something meaningful, alright?†Medic’s face contorted and he narrowed his eyes slightly. “And what exactly shall we talk about then? The weather? The fine hunting just inside the perimeter fence? Or maybe you want to be the first to show us how this should be done? Maybe you want to be the first to explain why you haven’t been doing your job properly and then beg our forgiveness for it?†Sniper’s knife came to a comfortable rest on, what Medic suspected, was the person he’d most like to run it through. Jabbing a finger above the knife Sniper finally looked Medic in the eye. “We wouldn’t have to explain anything to each other if you hadn’t gutted her! And don’t dare look at me like that mate, you know it’s true! We all do. But that was the last straw for the Administrator, wasn’t it? Couldn’t keep killing off the hired help indefinitely, could you, cost too bloody much, we know that now. But she seemed half-way decent, and I’d’ve much preferred to spill me guts to her than you bloody lot if I had the chance. Which I now don’t. So thanks, doc, thanks a lot.†Medic stiffened and looked down his nose comfortably at Sniper, at the parallel lines of accusation being pointed at him, and wondered if the Australian’s hands really were as sensitive and vital as he claimed. He would have to come to a conclusion during the next round of routine check-ups and, if they actually were, he’d then be able to have something he could genuinely apologise for. Medic was dimly aware that his glare must be stony and tinged with poorly concealed disgust, but right now he didn’t care. “I have been over this countless times but, since you come from a continent of criminals, it is clear that you are less able to perform basic arithmetic than other cultures. And, whilst you have my pity, you also have my irritation, as I am now forced to repeat myself to you for the fifth time today that I did not eviscerate her.†Medic held up his splayed left hand and pointedly touched the tip of each digit with his right index finger. “One, two, three, four and onto five now, ja? Too slow? Too confusing? Perhaps you would like me to repeat it once more for luck just in case?†Sniper stood up sharply, grabbing his knife’s handle as he did so. “You miserable liar, you-†Medic shot to his feet almost at the same time, leaning forwards slightly as his left hand pounded flat onto the table and the other dived into his coat pocket. “I am sick of telling you that I never killed her! I never! Yes maybe the possibility of examining the woman entered my mind, but it did not progress from that! I would never kill her, and certainly not like that! What would have been the point? None! It would have been a wasted opportunity and I am not a wasteful man!†Scout snorted, Heavy shook his head slowly and Spy lit a cigarette as he sat back comfortably in his chair, eyes flicking between Medic and Sniper. Medic felt his lips curl into an undisguised grin of contempt as his fingers locked around what was in his pocket. “Do you really forget that you were the one to kill first? Or do you just want to forget, but your bad dreams compel you to burden others with blame that does not belong to them?†Sniper twitched and he held out his knife as far as his arm could stretch. “My dreams are clear, as is my conscience. I killed him to protect the team, unlike you who killed her for fun.†Medic felt the object bite into his fingers as he began to slowly pull it out, his voice descending to an icy hiss that pleased and almost surprised him. “It will be my pleasure to show you what I do for ‘fun,’ Herr Sniper. We-†“FUN!†Soldier bellowed as everyone started in their seats at the sound. Medic’s eyes flickered briefly to the idiot military man before settling back on Sniper, concentrating on as much of him as possible, almost convinced he would attack soon and almost wanting it. Medic took a deep breath in and tensed just as Soldier jumped – actually jumped – onto the middle of the table and began to roar. “YOU ARE ALL A COMPLETE AND UTTER DISGRACE TO BUILDERS LEAGUE UNITED! IF YOU HAVE A MURDEROUS OUTBURST YOU ARE UNABLE TO CONTROL IT SHOULD BE UNLEASHED ON THE BATTLEFIELD, NOT ON EACH OTHER! THE CULMINATION OF SAID OUTBURSTS ON EACH OTHER WILL ONLY REDUCE THE NUMBER OF US AVAILABLE TO UNLEASH AN APPROPRIATE OUTBURST ON OUR OPPOSING NUMBER IN THE ARENA WITH THE AIM OF REDUCING THEIR NUMBER AND MAINTAINING OR INCREASING OUR NUMBER BEFORE WE’RE DIVIDED AND CONQUERED LIKE A POORLY PLANNED WEDDING IN THE MOUNTAINS!†The struggling extractor fan finally died in a high pitched scratchy whine, as a soft rattling sound began and a faint whisp of grey smoke drifted lazily down from the ceiling. “YOU ALL LOOK BAD AND YOU SHOULD ALL FEEL BAD! BUT BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE THE TIME OF RECRUITING MORE GREENHORNS TO THIS ARMY I WILL NOW HAVE TO FIX THIS BY READING YOU THE LETTER!†Soldier jumped back to the ground and strode out of the kitchen, his freed napkin drifting slowly to the ground. The weighty silence was eventually broken by Demoman exhaling heavily and shaking his head, his hand coming up to cover both his eyes. “Not that bloody letter. Not again.†Scout let out a low, long whistle as he picked up a hunk of meat from the table. “Fuckin’ crazy GI Joe! I ain’t gonna stay put to listen to more of this bullshit if he keeps on ruining dinner!†Scout chewed messily and swallowed quickly, as he threw a potato at the extractor fan and pushed his chair back sharply to allow him to cross his legs on top of the table. “And where the hell’s desert got to? Get a fuckin’ move on Pyro, that apple pie ain’t gonna cook itself!†Scout picked up another potato and started tossing it in his palm as Pyro turned his head slowly, almost unconcernedly, towards Scout. The seated men shuffled and began to mutter, but Medic and Sniper remained locked in position, neither having relaxed their posture or averted their gaze from each other. Medic could feel the fingers in his right hand going numb from the sustained grip, and he could soon feel the eyes of everyone on him: some curious, some accusatory, all of them irritated. He took a long breath in and forced himself to relax; the object settled back into the depths of his pocket and he slowly stood up straight. “I did not kill her,†Medic repeated himself, fighting his voice to be steady. Sniper didn’t move for a beat – for two beats – but then slowly withdrew his arm to bring his knife close to his body, the razor sharp tip still pointed at Medic. Before either could say any more they were distracted by Heavy, who had risen to his feet with surprising swiftness and began to speak softly, firmly and confidently. “Doctor does not lie. Ignores questions? Yes. Exaggerates? Constantly. But outright lie? No. He has never once lied to me.†Heavy looked at his teammates in turn. “He has never lied once to any of us. And you know these words to be the truth, even as you fight against others that scream to claim the same.†Heavy sat back down sharply. Another few seconds of cruel silence followed before Sniper placed his knife carefully onto the table and sat back down, his arms folding across his chest as his eyes examined Medic with slowly draining distrust accompanied by an even slower growth of unease. Medic felt an uncomfortable flare of annoyance, pride and envy as he nodded to Heavy and also sat down slowly. He clasped his hands lightly in his lap and regarded Sniper with what he hoped was the right expression. “I did not kill her,†he repeated, feeling pathetically grateful that this declaration had a clear undertone of genuine feeling to it. Sniper just sat, staring at Medic as faint footsteps could be heard echoing in the corridors outside, before he nodded his head in acceptance. Medic felt his whole posture sag with relief but this was only for a split second, before he made the conscious decision to sit up as straight as he could. Sniper picked up his knife and returned it to its holster, his eyes still never leaving Medic. “So who did kill her then?†“I do not know.†Before Medic could explain himself further they were all distracted by Solider, who’d now burst through into the kitchen holding a creased sheet of paper almost reverentially, jealously, to his chest. “For fuck’s sake…†groaned Demoman, as Spy hastily lit another cigarette and Scout threw two potatoes and a fork with increased violence at the still smoking extractor fan. “Listen up ladies, for it’s my regrettable duty to remind you why we’ve all been forced here together instead of spending our usual down time alone in vocal support of our fair President, God bless him!†Soldier made his way to the head of the table and stood ramrod straight, the slightly stained letter held out at arm’s length in front of him. Medic and Sniper exchanged another glance, its precise meaning lost on both of them, as Solider raised his voice to once again read out the letter they’d received from the Administrator eight days ago. “’To the Builders League United Employee to whom this may concern, yes that means you, I trust that this letter finds you in good health. For if it doesn’t, then several of you are in breach of contract and the appropriate disciplinary measures will soon have to be undertaken. It has come to my attention that, whilst you are competent enough to fulfill the function for which you were initially hired, you have failed to integrate with your colleagues in a manner deemed proficient enough to secure sustained and deserved victories. In other words, you are too lazy and too stupid enough to work as a team. And if you cannot work as a team, then you will lose. And if you lose enough engagements then your enemies will stop trying. And if your enemies stop trying they will eventually cease to fight, and I will be out of a job and forced to repay that which should never have to be repaid. Since your response has been to exterminate all six of the professionals hired to assist you in your current situation I – and the bank with which Builders League United still have a beneficial relationship with – have been forced to conclude that meaningful change can only come within. To that extent you will, with immediate effect upon hearing these words, take all meals together. You will sit and converse as teammates and discuss issues that will bond you closer together. You will undertake appropriate training and you will not even consider the possibility of submitting a complaint against it, for the clause on page seventeen paragraph four footnote thirteen point zero one of your contract clearly prohibits it. The fact that this clause is detailed within the dot of the seventh ‘i’ is irrelevant. Your seventh morale officer will be someone you are all familiar with; someone you trust; someone I am supremely confident will follow orders and get the job done or else be prepared to make the supreme sacrifice of your health, happiness and future pay cheques in the attempt to do so. You will follow Soldier’s orders and guidance without question, or else I will have no alternative but to begin the regrettable but necessary implementation of a complete restructure of the organisation. Yours almost sincerely, Administrator.’†Solider folded the letter easily across its center before slipping it carefully into his jacket pocket. From another pocket he brought out a large bunch of keys and jangled them cheerfully in front of everyone. Engineer swore loudly, Pyro covered his head with his hands and Medic watched miserably as Soldier, grinning broadly, dropped the keys noisily onto the table. “It’s time for team building exercises.â€
I like this, and I shall lurk, wait and hope for more. I am intrigued as to where this is going!
This sounds promising. Continue?
Go on.
Thank you all for reading and for the comments! I shall indeed be continuing soon. Demoman exhaling heavily and shaking his head, his hand coming up to cover both his eyes. No, that's not right, Demo only has one eye, not eyes! How annoying to only spot this now, especially since I read this countless times before posting. And there's also another error elsewhere. Oh well. I think I'll try and get a beta for the next part. If anyone here would like the job please just send me an email!
First of all apologies for the complete change of tense this is now in - I was halfway through writing this it when I realised it was different to what I'd begun with. But this just seems to come more naturally for me to write, and everything flowed a lot easier and put across far better what I'd wanted to convey, so, I think I'll be sticking with it. I might re-write the first chapter at a later date and post it elsewhere, but, I don't know. Anyway, I like to think this is an improvement on the first part, but please let me know if I'm doing nothing but deluding myself! Any constructive criticism or comments - particularly regarding the change of tense - will be very much appreciated! CHAPTER TWO BLU disregard their meals and make their way out of the kitchen, one eager and eight begrudgingly, to stomp down the corridors and emerge into the back yard of their base. The evening sun is setting slowly, as if it’s been waiting for their arrival, and is coating the rough land in a golden wash of warm light. Soldier walks briskly ahead, past large waste bins and one of many iron barred gates, to the storage shed at the back. The rest of BLU trail after him and then stop, maintaining the same space they’ve cultivated behind him, as Soldier fumbles for the right key to insert into the well-oiled lock. The key is turned, the door opened, boots shuffle inside and pause again, waiting for the man in front of them to move. The door is pulled closed behind them and there’s a shout of exclamation at the action, because no-one has yet managed to find the light cord to pull. The shed is in almost complete darkness, save for a thin blade of red sunlight underscoring the door they’ve just entered and the door in front they’re impatient to exit, but the harsh sodium lights above do not turn on. Another exclamation, rougher this time, lets everyone know the cord has been found and pulled repeatedly, but is not working. “Oh for fuck’s sake…†someone complains loudly as a buzzing of irritation begins to swell around the pitch black room. “Alright alright, no need to panic like you’ve just heard the war’s been cancelled and you’re stuck in an enemy bedroom wondering when your boat’s coming back! We will open this door and…huh,†Soldier breaks off, as the jangling of keys and attempts to fit one into the lock on the back door stops. “Yes, well, it seems the right key isn’t actually here. No doubt taken by a RED as a test, or- yes! A test! But we won’t let them trick us again! You and you get over here and start digging a tunnel so we can crawl underneath.†Medic does his best to tune it all out but it’s difficult, so difficult, when his nose is being subjected to the mounting smell of sweat and rust, his ears are filling with curses and pointless promises, his eyes can’t distinguish more than the nearest blurred outlines and sharp careless elbows are digging into him with increased regularity. When his foot is trodden on yet again he snaps. “Watch what you’re doing you clumsy oaf!†“I know what I want to do but I can’t exactly see where it is I’m supposed to be doin’ it. Surely I don’t have to explain our current predicament to you.†A pause, as feet are scraped along the ground. “Or do I?†The harsh Australian accent causes Medic to tense, as he concentrates on distinguishing the dark body from the shuffling others. Sniper’s stopped moving, and Medic can feel his eyes on him. His eyes. Medic’s about to swallow the thought when he’s simultaneously shoved in the back and jabbed sharply in his stomach. As he breathes in tightly he’s shoved from behind yet again and he lashes out an arm, which strikes Sniper broadly across the chest and elicits a satisfying grunt of pain. “Oi!†There’s no need for Medic to raise his eyebrows and put on a show of remorse but he does alter the tone of his voice, which ends up betraying more smug amusement than he’d intended. “My apologies Herr Sniper; I did not see you there.’ “Bollocks you didn’t. Your eyesight’s worse than mine and you knew just where to hit.†Medic bristles at that. “You also hit hard, except to people that don’t deserve it.†Sniper stills, as if he knows where this is heading. “Like I’ve also had to repeat to you, doctor, my actions were in self-defence. A pre-emptive strike if you will. And let’s certainly not forget about how little complaining you did with the results.†Sniper’s voice dips even deeper. “About what, I suppose, was delivered to you.†Medic resists the urge to reach into his pocket again, as a couple of forms next to them twitch and make a poor show of disguising their interest and anticipation. All he wants to do is fire off a quick retort but he doesn’t; it won’t do his standing with the team any good, and he’s uncomfortably aware of how low it currently rests. Instead he distracts his mind with the memories of how their first morale officer was introduced to them and how their first morale officer was executed within seconds. Not that Sniper – or anyone – has ever used that term to describe the man’s death. ‘Self-defence;’ ‘Understandable;’ ‘To be expected;’ those are the terms employed with easy superiority to depict what happened. Medic remembers all too well how he’d managed to muster a half-hearted interest upon hearing the faint shouts coming from outside that, fuck, there’s a man inside the perminter’s base, look, he’s just strolling through like no-one’s business, how did he get through the door and just who the hell is he? That was until their shouts had turned into higher pitched cries of oh, shit, the old geezer has just been shot, just been pegged, just been riddled with bullets and what the fuck is going on here? Medic’s rush outside had been invigorating, the warm morning air pleasant, the blood soaked ground looking almost lovely in the rising sun. The discovery that there was only one bullet hole, drilled neatly into the man’s forehead, had only slightly tarnished an otherwise enjoyable post mortem. Medic really isn’t a wasteful man, and it had only made sense to thoroughly dissect the stranger as soon as he could. What if he was an enemy Spy as several of his colleagues had imaginatively claimed? Respawn was only programmed to resurrect official Builders League United Employees they would later find out; agency and sub-contracted workers didn’t get the benefit of surviving a 7.62x51mm NATO bullet to the brain. They didn’t find out the identity of their would-be-visitor until his replacement had been similarly dispatched. Soldier has managed to locate, extract and place a large bag of what sounds like heavy tools in front of the door. He grips his shovel tightly as he argues against a renewed chorus of protests about digging a God damn tunnel under a door he’s too fucking stupid to remember the keys for. Well, no, not quite similarly, Medic corrects himself, as he skips his recollections forward several days. The second officer had actually managed to make it inside their base when he’d arrived. Watching him approach and then pass through the main entry gate Sniper, in his hideout, had resisted the temptation to focus his sight on a clearly defined forehead again, and instead had fired a warning shot at the man’s feet. The younger man had jumped violently into the air and allowed his papers to be blown back the way he had come, twisting sharply away in the strong wind that had greeted him. Idiot should have put them all into a file, Medic remembers thinking upon seeing the man for the first time. The officer had been young, nervous and only just beginning to breathe normally again as he was escorted through the main storage corridor by himself and Heavy. The three of them had just turned the last corner in their approach to the Communication Room, listening to him explain more of what a morale officer could do for them, when half of the man’s face had exploded. Medic hadn’t felt that particular hot splash of brain and blood and fluids on his skin for a long time, but he hadn’t needed to look around or shout out a question to know what they were. He’d stopped, taken a breath, wiped the majority of it from his mouth and cheek and chin and continued patiently on his way. After Medic had cleaned himself he’d retraced his steps back through the corridor, following the smears of blood like a map to find where the man had first crawled, collapsed and then been dragged along. Heavy, Demoman and Engineer had stood in a semi-circle over the body, their looks of regret, incredulity and anger directed squarely at Soldier, who had continued to clean his shovel even though it gleamed spotlessly. Medic had been more impressed and definitely more amused to hear Soldier’s justification of his killing: “Anyone in a suit that colour is clearly a Communist! He would have brainwashed us all until we were wearing dresses and decorating cakes with the blood bled from our own hands in his attempt to prove pink is better than red, white and blue! I did us a favour! I actually did him a favour! Not that I ever received a thank you from him, ungrateful bastard.†Soldier had then kicked the corpse heavily in its stomach. “What?†He had stood up fully, proudly, pounding the shovel’s head onto the ground. “We will bury him in a suit of black and white and he’ll be contained safely under miles of pure, uncompromising American soil to stop even his infected Commie heart clawing its way up so it can eat into your face in the middle of the night!†Medic’s brought back to the present by a series of loud sounds that have begun to emerge from near the exit door. Engineer’s been handed a selection of equipment; been dumped with a selection more like, as Medic watches Engineer pulled forwards and Soldier pushed aside. Everyone steps back to give him room to work, and Medic’s focus is drawn to the burn of the blowtorch Engineer is now holding easily in his gloved hands. It’s sparking freely around the metal door, and his black goggles are reflecting jagged shapes of white and blue. Another foot treads heavily onto his yet again but Medic can only muster a dull annoyance this time, as his attention is now focusing and constricting on the Texan. Medic suspects he was the only one not even faintly unsettled by the revelation that their politely spoken Engineer had killed the third officer. And he’s even surer he was the only one even slightly impressed by the manner in which their unwelcome guest had died. Not that Medic would ever confess these near certainties to anyone; it’s taken enough to finally admit them to himself. Before he can drift back into that unusual day he – in fact everyone – is snapped out of whatever thoughts they’ve been brewing on to watch the exit door creak open and feel warm aim waft in. Everyone trudges out, moaning heartily and stretching deeply, despite their confinement being no greater than five minutes. Medic turns back to look at Engineer, who has neatly replaced the tools back into the bag and is now standing at the scarred door, running his un-gloved right hand up and down one side of the frame. More like a caress really, the way those metal fingers gently examine and deduce, confident in their knowledge that any wrongs discovered can be righted; that any payment required for such work can be met, stalled or simply ignored. Engineer’s smile is slight but distinct, and without realising it Medic finds himself mimicking it. He understands that look; that need to create something from destruction; that twist of satisfaction in rebuilding and refining that which has suffered at your own hand. It’s not just- he turns his head sharply and walks briskly towards the others, hoping Engineer hasn’t seen him when he’d raised his goggled head suddenly upwards. Soldier is standing, stained clipboard in hand, in front of the line of BLU mercenaries as he describes the obstacle course set out behind him. It’s clear no-one really believes that completing it as quickly as possible – to the hearty encouragement of their brothers in arms – will improve their strength, coordination and fighting spirit against those disgusting son-of-a-bitch REDs. Medic glances over it, counting quickly, and soon determines that it’s the same course they’ve been over three times already, except with one new addition to it: another shoddy looking net to climb. “This fiendish course will,†Soldier concludes “test you to your very limits! If the rope swing, net, rubber tires, puddles and balancing beam don’t give you nightmares for weeks to come then I guarantee the new, exhausting final challenge of, wait for it, another net will!†Medic folds his arms across his chest and glances up at the rust edged clouds sitting above them. A scuffle of steps behind tells him that Engineer has walked slowly to the back of the group, almost right behind him, but is now edging to the left to stand closer to Sniper. Medic swallows and wonders why he'd felt the need to move further aside. Scout hops from foot to foot and turns his palms upwards to the sky as he sneers openly, the small clouds of dirt and dust he's kicked up beginning to filter out and sparkle in the dying sun. “That’s it? That’s really it? I’ve drawn harder fuckin’ things in Kindergarten! Yeah, when we had them coloured chalks and blackboards and shit and they made me do it again ‘cause I ended up scribblin’ on someone else’s board – dumb fuck shoulda moved further away – and I made them build my course and I ran it in seconds, man, seconds, that dumb Principal tried to catch me but ain’t no-one gonna get me when I move!†Scout abruptly stands still and puts his hands firmly on his hips, and smiles directly at where Soldier’s eyes are hidden by his helmet. “I got a crippled Granny could run this thing blindfolded it’s so piss easy!†Soldier tilts his head as Scout continues to grin, and it’s said the same time Medic’s internal wheel of possibilities lands heavily on it. “You Private are almost deserving of that custom made battle gear you so proudly wear! Blindfolds it will be then - blindfolds for all - and you will have the great honour of going first with your partner! Shake hands with Pyro while I go rip up those bandages so carelessly thrown into the medical waste bin!†Soldier drops the clipboard eagerly and jogs away back to base. As if responding perfectly, finally, to a crisply spoken command, everyone twists slowly in horror to stare at Scout, who’s turned pale and begun to stutter out the beginning of an apology while doing his best to stop it becoming a full one. “Oh, shit, guys, I didn’t- I mean- well I’m not fuckin’ in charge, and-†“Idiot!†“Moron!†“Dummkopf!†Demoman smacks Scout heavily on the back of his head, and launches into a full and frank account of why someone with only one eye is particularly adverse to losing what little sight he has left. Medic resists the urge to sigh – such a pointless gesture really – as his eyes rove over his team mates. Pyro is shrugging in response to a question from Spy, Heavy is considering the course with a mixture of determination and concern, Scout is doing his best to placate Demoman and Sniper – Sniper has Engineer’s hand on his shoulder. Medic’s arms constrict his chest tighter and he looks back at the course, strangely unsettled and juvenilely glad that Sniper’s just as upset as Demo is about having his sight cut off. Scout makes a complete hash of his attempt even though Pyro, to his credit, makes a special effort to yell his commands and directions slowly and clearly through his mask. Scout swears and falls and trips over countless times before he’s even a third of the way complete and Soldier, perhaps aware of the growing unrest in his troops or simply that he’s getting bored himself, calls Scout a complete loser and orders him off the course so that someone else can show him how it’s done. “Now that ain’t doin’ much to the lad’s confidence is it?†Sniper complains at Soldier’s summary. Medic snorts before Soldier can respond, and turns to glare at the Australian. “Perhaps you can sit with the boy - “Fuck off I ain’t no boy!†Scout interjects – in your hideout? Tell him everything will be alright and rub his back for him?†Engineer is hollered at to partner with Sniper, and the Texan quickly and quietly whispers something into Soldier’s ear in response. Soldier jerks back for a second but then relaxes, and agrees that Engineer will be the one blindfolded. Medic experiences another unsettled shift, and knows the glare he’s giving Sniper is as sour as the one he’d assumed for him during dinner. Sniper smirks as he strolls past Medic, one long finger lifting the brim of his hat up as he does so. “I think you’re gonna be the one to sit with him first mate; all those cuts ain’t gonna heal themselves.†Medic exhales through gritted teeth and is grateful he bothers to make the effort of keeping the Medigun on constant charge to ensure optimum delivery speed. Medic’s turn comes and he’s partnered with Heavy. It’s not a surprising choice for anyone, but it is slightly unexpected that Soldier’s made it without insisting on a more incompatible match first. Maybe, Medic thinks as Soldier blindfolds him with an unexpected degree of care and competence, their latest morale officer isn’t as useless as most of them have already proclaimed. This fleeting thought is soon shot down and left to die, as Soldier finishes the knot and bellows straight into Medic’s left ear for him to “GO GO GO! IF THIS WAS A REAL WAR YOU’D ALREADY BE DYING IN THE MUD BEGGING FOR YOUR ALCOHOLIC MOTHER TO COME GET YOU AND MAKE THE PAIN STOP! GO GO GO!†Medic jerks to the right and grimaces tightly at the blast of sound to his ear, curling his fingers sharply into his palms. “Idiot! Why are you trying to deafen me if this is supposed to be a listening exercise?†“Less chatting and more running! Go Go Go!†Medic swears loudly in German and begins to step forward, resolutely refusing to move as quickly as he could and definitely less than he should. “I’ve seen ten ton tanks with only three wheels and one exhaust pipe crawl faster than you! Pay attention to what your partner says and lets pick up the pace Private!†“And how in God’s name am I supposed to hear anything other than your screeching voice in my ear?†“Go! Go! Go!†Not for the first time since he signed his contract with BLU, Medic wonders if his generous salary really is worth it. His head is still ringing and his left ear still tender, and he’s beginning to get distracted by thoughts of what he could do to Soldier’s own ears to repay the favour. It wouldn’t involve much effort to slide a needle inside one; wouldn’t demand ample skill to guide it slowly along the bottom of the ear canal until the ear drum is encountered, and certainly wouldn’t require copious pressure to pierce it slowly, completely, until the needle has disappeared and clear fluid is dripping slowly down his gloved fingers. Soldier would scream and thrash and promise him the world of course, and the American would finally appreciate just how vital it is to take good care of your ears, for they- The sudden smack of hard ground into Medic’s face makes him gasp in shock. He sucks in a mouthful of dirt and wishes painfully that his syringe gun was in his hand. He hears Scout laugh cruelly even through the churn of pulsing blood and resounding sound waves through his ears, through his whole head, and he’s back on his feet and moving swiftly, precisely, encouraged by the dying sound of Scout’s laughter as he tackles the course confidently. Medic defeats the obstacles with only one friction burn and two cuts above his right eyebrow – that moronic new net will be burnt by sundown he swears on Archimedes’ life it will – and tears off his blindfold as he crosses the finish. Several people start to ask him how he managed to finish it so quickly but Medic strides past them, blood pulsing with a mixture of condescension and exertion as he comes to rest by the open storage shed. It wasn’t difficult at all to finish: simply memorise the layout of the course and count the steps and grips and limb placements it will take to traverse it. Such an investment means you don’t even have to listen to your partner’s voice, let alone pay attention to what it is they’re actually saying. If no-one else can be bothered with a bit of forward planning, especially on something that’s already been encountered, then it’s their tough luck; let them live with the consequences and see if they can learn something worthwhile from his example. Medic is dimly aware this attitude is the opposite of what is trying to be instilled – the opposite of what is required by their true leader’s letter – but he’ll be damned to hell and back if he could actually care about it right now. He’s only half paying attention to the next challenger on the course, only half listening as they begin to complain about the lack of light and how they can’t possibly complete it in such conditions, when Engineer slowly stops next to him. Medic makes a conscious effort not to look at him, but can feel his eyes on him; can sense him weighing up and then proceeding with the opening line. “Course ain’t much to look at I know; hardly took more than half a mornin’ to put it together, but our appointed leader wants what he wants. D’ya think anyone’ll make it through better n’ when they started it?†Medic shifts his eyes to the side, taking in Engineer’s relaxed posture, while he continues his work of remaining as straight and uninterested as possible. “At the risk of my words once again straying into the uncomfortable territory of death, perhaps it is best I do not answer truthfully.†Medic knows his words are bitter and petty, but that’s what they are. They are truthful. Medic allows himself a sardonic grin at the realisation, and Engineer takes his goggles off. “I’m sorry about what I said at dinner doc, it’s nothin’ personal; didn’t mean to imply anythin’ untoward. I don’t want you to feel uneasy aroun’ me, and-†Engineer stops and looks away, one hand scratching the back of his neck, as if he’s said more than he should have. Medic’s never been one to devote too much energy into the deconstruction of people’s words, be they spoken or written, because it’s a far more efficient use of time to monitor someone’s actions, since so much of what the body says is bound by truth and funnelled along fixed tracks. What can be said can be undone with a gesture, but that which is shown cannot be so easily overwritten. Observing these unconscious gestures, interpreting their actual meaning and then responding to their truth can be problematic, but he’s had decades of practice. Engineer’s eyes have skipped away from the person he’s just spoken to–check; his hand is touching his neck in the well-known gesture of unease–check; he’s even begun to fidget one foot against the floor, and Medic’s internal checklist is almost complete when the Texan lets out a soft sign. Medic’s lip curls upwards at the corner. It’s not the best display of embarrassed regret he’s ever been presented with, but it’s certainly not the worst. He stares and says nothing, just waiting to see if Engineer will realise and then accept that Medic knows what he’s doing. Engineer doesn’t fail to deliver on both. He puts an end to his movements and looks up at Medic squarely, easily, a slight tug coming to his lips. “It’s unfortunate, isn’t it?†he finally says softly, almost longingly, as Medic tilts his head in question, in encouragement, for him to elaborate. “Death.†Medic straightens and feels cheated at the answer. He flashes through images of the Medigun, the Ubercharge, the Respawn Room and looks down dejectedly, almost angrily, at Engineer. But Engineer is still at ease, as if his anticipation of Medic’s response to his answer has been completely correct, and he wipes his left thumb lightly across one lens of his goggles before putting them back on. He turns his face up and Medic can see his own face, blurring into black and dark red, reflecting back at him, as Engineer clarifies his response. “That it’s been relegated to somethin’ of inconsequence. That we’ve relegated its relevance.†Medic breathes in slowly and feels his pulse impatiently kick up a gear, as if his heart now finally has reason to work harder in response to something other than an external feed of artificial energy and chemicals. He’s not sure what to say in response but he wants to say something, anything, to peel off the next thread and follow it, but a sudden noise interrupts him. Along with everyone else Medic whips his head around to where Soldier’s now frozen in place. He’s facing them but looking, searching, over the heads of where Medic and Engineer are now inching forward from, far over the roof of the storage shed and way beyond onto the rocky hills and dark scrubland they rarely venture into. Soldier’s mouth has dropped open and his eyebrows have raised so much that his helmet’s been pushed up, allowing Medic a glimpse of wide, steel blue eyes. Soldier’s mouth has dropped open and Medic feels a twinge of excitement at Soldier’s strained words. “Oh sierra, hotel, india, teufort.â€
but who's the dead woman?