[Chapter 2, hot off the presses!]
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he Medic insisted that he was dead. His RED teammates responded to this with confusion- and more than a little fear. They all died on a daily basis, only to respawn and rush back into the fray. It was their job. However, after being left to fend for himself during one of the Demoman’s broadsword rages, the German had fallen on the floor of the Respawn and insisted that he was still dead.

During that battle, his teammates didn’t have any time to waste on figuring out what was wrong. However, the sight of the fearsome German lying gray-faced and glassy-eyed on the floor had a demoralising effect on everyone who went through Respawn. They had all heard rumours of the mysterious regeneration technology gone wrong- a Scout revived without legs, an Engineer turned inside-out, a Spy transformed into a terrible monster- always on another base, it was true, but was the deathly Medic the first sign that Respawn was malfunctioning here? The RED strategy became timid, defensive, and the day’s battle ended in ignominious defeat.

As soon as the cease-fire sounded, the Soldier gathered the entire team in the Respawn room around the stricken doctor. “Engie, you’re a college boy. Find out if he still has all his insides,” the veteran directed.

Under the watchful gaze of the rest of the team, the Engineer fumbled in the Medic’s belt pouches until he found the man’s stethoscope. He pushed aside the Medic’s coat to listen to his chest and stomach through his shirt, then pressed his hands gently along the Medic’s arms and legs. Finally, he dug his headlamp out of his own tool belt and shone it in the Medic’s ears and eyes.

“I can hear his heart, lungs and guts, his bones are all present and correct, and he hasn’t been hit on the head, far as I can see,” the Texan shrugged.

“Shell shock,” the Soldier pronounced.

“What?” the Scout hadn’t really been paying attention, his eyes caught in the Medic’s vacant gaze.

“Shell shock,” the Soldier repeated. “Some men hear one explosion too many, and their brains go AWOL.”

“So, how long ago it happens to you?” the grimy Heavy laughed.

“Congratulations, maggot,” the Soldier snapped. “You have just earned yourself the privilege of putting our casualty, here, to bed in his own sickbay and playing nursemaid until battle resumes at 0600 tomorrow!”

Grumbling, the crudely-tattoo’d man hoisted the Medic like a sack of flour and hauled him to the infirmary. He threw the German onto a bed, and the man lay in cadaverous stillness as the Heavy peeled off his Medigun, coat and boots. The Russian was therefore surprised by the Medic’s screaming struggles as he went to strip off his shirt and pants. The fit ended as quickly as it had begun, as soon as his fingers left the Medic’s placket. The Heavy gave up on his teammate, leaving him fully dressed and alone.

The next morning, the RED team was somewhat surprised to see the Medic kitted up and in formation as usual. A second’s inspection suggested that he still wasn’t right, though. His upright bearing had devolved into a beaten slouch, and his starchy clothing was creased and sweaty, clearly slept-in. Worst of all, though, were his eyes- hollow, fixed on nothing that his teammates could see.

“So, ah, how’s bein’ dead, then?” the Demoman attempted a joke to lighten the mood.

“I am in Hell,” the Medic replied, eyes dark behind his glasses.

There was no more time for talking. The siren sounded and the teams rushed out- all except for the RED Medic. He plodded onto the battlefield, unable to keep to his usual formation with the Soldier and the Demoman. He was picked off by the BLU Sniper in seconds, but he marched out equally slowly when he respawned again.

“Doc! Doc, snap out of it!” said the Scout, who’d respawned next to him. “You can’t just freakin’ STAND there!”

However, that was what the Medic continued to do. Without their agile healer, the RED team was relying far too heavily on the Engineer’s dispenser. This left them on the defensive, forced into a reactive role, and ultimately vulnerable to a devastating pincer attack by the BLU Heavy and Pyro. As they respawned, the Soldier jerked himself upright against the vertigo of molecular reassembly and rounded on the Medic.

“Listen up, Fritz! Can you hear me in there?” When the Medic nodded mutely, the Soldier continued. “You are not fit to be on the battlefield. However, there is no-one here competent to give medical care except you, and since you cannot give it to yourself, I am assigning you to the Rooski. Take that Medigun of yours and just follow him around with it locked on. Ivan, you try to stay between him and the enemy. Don’t leave him alone out there. Move out!”

They moved out, Heavy and Medic, at a stolid, plodding pace. When bracing against the Medigun’s torque, the Russian moved just about slowly enough for the empty-eyed German to follow. The formerly fearsome doctor no longer minded being left unguarded with the Medigun in his hands; he didn’t even bother to switch to a weapon. Being fragged off the map made no impact on him. He just respawned and waited patiently for the Heavy to join him again.

After a week or so of this hollow existence, the Demoman cornered the Medic in his quarters one morning before battle. “Doc,” he said, laying a companionate hand on the older man’s shoulder, “it pains me to see ye like this. I know the madness o’ battle, and the madness o’ drink, and aye, even the madness o’ betrayal... but never this strange silence o’ yer suffering. Tell me what ails ye.”

“I am dead.”

“Generally, standin’ and walkin’ suggest ye’re not, but I’ve seen shite as would turn ye white. So tell me, what killed ye?”

“The BLU Heavy.”

“Fair enough, he’s a right big bastard. But he’s killed us all, dozens o’ times, and we always respawn. Why’re ye still dead?”

“He took mein heart. I cannot live.”

The Demoman looked at his teammate silently for a moment, then opened up the weapons locker along the wall. “I dinnae knoo about that- if anyone aroond here is stealing organs, it ought tae be ye. Ye’re a battle Medic, man!” The Demoman unshipped the Blutsauger and Übersaw. “Ye earned these! If yon suet pudding has yer heart, goo on an’ take his!” He pressed the weapons into the Medic’s hands, and was gratified at the light that went on behind the Medic’s glasses. It was a strange and sickly flame, but it had to be better than that awful emptiness, the Demoman reasoned. He tried to wash his doubts away with scrumpy, without great success.

Oh Marty, I adore the way you write Demo. Soldier's lines are great too... hell, you just have a gift for dialogue.
Oh Medic.

God, I cannot wait to read the next update; this is so dark and amazing.

I love the way you wrote his anguish, that sort of "I'm so in love that I've gone crazy!" storyline can come off cheesy sometimes, but you've really pulled it off. Also, not-crazy, totally in charge Soldier is really refreshing.

this is amazing.

Please keep up the amazing work~!

Keep it uuuuuup

Marty, you...
I have no words for you.
Just rest assured, you are one of my favorite people.

Lovely,so far one of the best stories I have seen in weeks.

Oh marty. you.

MOOOOOOOOOOOOAR.

Ooh, this is a treat. At first I thought it was just a repost, but then an update too? Life is worth living again.

Oh-- oh, wow.
I choked out loud when I found this.
This is... This is fucking amazing.
My god, update soon.

Damn it Marty, become a friggin author. You're incredible.

Responding to your cries, here is MOAR!
------------------------------------------

It would be wrong to say that the Medic felt alive again when the Demoman pressed the Blutsauger into his hand. He was dead, what business did he have with feeling alive? However, he did feel something. Spine straight, head raised, the Medic marched out to join his teammates in formation.

“Yo, Doc! You’re back!” the Scout cheered. The Medic nodded curtly. He wasn’t sure what had come back; it wasn’t what he remembered himself to be. He was the walking dead...

The Administrator sounded the attack, and the Medic ventured out with his teammates. If his mind was not. His hands remembered how to grasp the Blutsauger, his legs knew how to carry him over uneven ground. When the BLU Scout fired on them and the Soldier's rocket went wide, it seemed that the Medic’s shoulders decided by themselves to pivot the needle gun, to lead, to allow for yardage and wind. A tiny sinew in his forearm made the independent choice to pull his finger tight on the trigger, filling the skinny runner with more needles than a pincushion. In a slow fraction of a second, the boy stumbled-

The Blutsauger operated on the same basic principle as the Medigun, only perverted via a feedback mechanism. The Medic recalled this with strange, distant clarity as the needles fed the Scout’s life into him, healing the stinging scattergun wounds. Blutsauger... of course. That explained so much to a dead man walking. The Medic screamed a wordless battle-cry at the sky, and dove at the nearest BLU uniform.

Hacking with the Übersaw, firing the Blutsauger, laughing all the while, the Medic no longer cared. Were they supposed to be capturing intelligence or guarding a control point? Where were his teammates, that foul-smelling brute of a Heavy? It did not matter. All that mattered were the ranks and ranks of BLUs, their ready supply of arms, legs, necks... blood. Blood on the ground, on his coat, drying on his face, glorious. He noticed nothing else until he looked up to see an advancing wall of blue and grey- and then the BLU Heavy’s minigun mowed him down.

The BLU Heavy. The thought ignited in his mind as soon as he respawned. Clearly a frontal attack was no use, but the pit of his stomach remembered stealth, fed the details to his burning brain. He left Respawn with the circumspection of a Spy, staying out of sight behind crates and rubble. He encountered the BLU Pyro making spy-checks, and put the mumbling abomination down with hardly a fight. Nothing would keep him from the BLU Heavy.

Next, he encountered the RED Pyro, who waved him by without either requesting healing or washing him with fire to check for a disguise. Before the Medic’s mind even registered suspicion, he hacked at the Spy with his Übersaw, briefly engaging in hand-to-hand combat, before both of the Spy’s hands were on the ground. The bloodshed whet his taste for more.

It was easy enough to locate the BLU Heavy; all the Medic had to do was follow the sound of minigun fire from a weapon in good repair. A sheet of corrugated iron provided cover for him to launch a stream of syringes at the enemy. He swore that he could taste the difference in the energy that flowed back from the BLU Medic, versus that from the needles that had hit his Heavy. When they were weakened, the RED Medic stepped out around the rubble. His teammates were gone, corpses whisked away by the Respawn system, and the wounded BLUs were attempting to regroup.

The RED Medic dispatched his BLU rival with the bonesaw, then pumped another round of life-stealing syringes into the BLU Hevy. The big man slumped back against a boulder, and the Medic gazed down at him. His broad, honest face was drained of colour, and he panted as he tried to stand.

“Lieber,” the Medic cooed, smiling. “Lieber Herr.”

“What...” the BLU Heavy was left alone as the BLU Medic’s corpse vanished. The RED kicked him under the knee, driving him to the ground.

“I think that you have something of mine...” the RED closed on the BLU, grabbing at the buckles of his flak jacket and trying not to dislodge too many of the life-stealing syringes.

“Go-” the Heavy swatted at him, but the blow was weak. The Medic dodged easily, then used the Übersaw to sever the man’s biceps.

“Sh, shh,” the Medic soothed, as he used the weighted blade to crack the Russian’s ribcage. The big man’s heart was easy enough to locate, though it was beating weakly, erratically. The Medic wrenched the organ free, splashing brilliant blood everywhere. In front of the Heavy’s fading eyes, he crammed the tough muscle into his mouth and took a big bite. “Mein Herz...” he sighed between mouthfuls.

As the Medic smiled down at the Russian’s corpse, the BLU Demoman rounded the corner. He gaped at the Medic: manic grin, blood running out of his mouth, blood everywhere, a half-eaten heart still in his hand like an apple.

“Bloody Hellfire,” the Scot breathed, before hitting the Medic with every grenade he had.

The Medic respawned smiling. He was dead, he was in Hell, it was true. But, he knew as he caressed the barrel of the Blutsauger, he was one of the demons.

Marty you are amazing and I love you.

God yes I did not think too much UNTIL THAT ENDING. Give me your gametes and I will combine them with my gametes and then I will plant these seeds of glory into SO MANY PROSTITUTES.

Oh Jesus
That Medic is nucking futs
But I love it.

I am afraid to sleep. The same way I am after reading Clive Barker.

Holy shit, this is the best fanfiction I have ever had the privilege of reading!
Such emotion...

That was incredible.

I'm such a sucker for a "meet cute."

This take on a lovesick Medic is amazing. Sublimate on, you crazy diamond.

Yup, Good Medic Svejk has taken the Demoman's advice literally, and -left- the building.

I love your use of peripherals here.
Scout, the sounding board, the closest to life, the (relatively) most innocent eyes.
He is the film, taking impressions of what he sees without really processing it.
Soldier, in the thick of reality even as he's declared insane, The first to approach the problem, their unofficial leader...
He is the glue, the voice of reason.
And Demoman, the closest to death, the closest to the barrier Medic just breached.
He is both the catalyst for what just happened, and the first to see it's gone horribly, horribly wrong...
They're like the battlefield versions of the three fates, a greek chorus watching in uneasy mounting awareness as their medic fell... and rose... but not as the same man.

22 That was a beautiful review.

This was a REALLY good fic. Otherhazards review got me going on it and I loved every second.

Otherhazards, I hope, HOPE that someday you might read my fic and give some crit and commentary this good. Wow. This ..I just don`t even. I feel a little bad for how excited I am about your comments when I should be commenting on the fic. I hope you will forgive me OP, but DUDE this is my job and you do it better than I do.

wow that was amazing :) fisty approves

Marty, you always write such a painfully tortured, beautiful Medic it actually physically hurts in my heart area a little bit.

Curious, is there MOAR? Because I love this.

Part 4

The RED Medic was unhinged, neither team doubted that. When the morning siren sounded, he would rush onto the field of battle, Medigun long forgotten, leading with Blutsauger and bonesaw. as long as the BLU Heavy was nowhere in sight, he would tear into the other members of the BLU team like a demon. As soon as he laid eyes on the big Russian, though, he would pursue him to the exclusion of all else. The RED team manoeuvred to keep their unstable Medic pointed at any BLU but the Heavy, since his fixation kept leaving them one man down. The BLU Heavy cooperated, going out of his way to avoid the Medic’s insane and intimate stare.

The Medic was too far gone to understand the deliberation of these tactics. In his mind, he waded through seas of blood, forests of hacked-off limbs, forever searching for the one thing that made this Hell bearable. He was neither surprised nor unsurprised when the big Russian walked toward him on the battlefield one day, unarmed, hands spread wide. The BLU Heavy was a manifestation from some other, better world; why would the monster that the RED Medic had be come be able to predict his actions? He approached in tender amazement, bonesaw poised, ready to claim as much of the Heavy’s flesh as he could. The huge man stood still as the Medic fell upon him, slashing at him to drink his precious blood. Only when his lips were fastened on the Heavy’s throat did the Medic notice a sharp stinging at the back of his neck. Everything went black.

In darkness, the Medic floated for some time. He might have thought it was a Respawn lag, but he could hear voices from time to time.

“-dart gun, bloody thing has no range at all...”

“You think you have to get too close?” A sarcastic laugh- the BLU Heavy’s voice! The Medic tried to sit up, and silence closed in again.

Surfacing briefly, there was a gut-deep cracking sound, which the Medic recognised as his own ribs, and a distant humming- Wagner. The Medic wondered if he was in a hospital back in Germany- not that, anything but that- he prayed as he passed out again.

“-radiation levels are, well, not normal, but nothin’ outta the ordinary for anyone who’s done a hitch at Nucleus. Granted, I don’t have his template to work from, bein’ as he’s a RED, but I don’t figure his Respawn signature’s drifted more that one-tenth of one percent. Again, a mite high, but within the system’s tolerances.” The Texan twang of the BLU Engineer was the next thing the Medic knew.

“My exploratory surgery revealed nothing apparently physically wrong with him. All organs are present and in good condition, but I am no neurosurgeon. I cannot tell by visual inspection what is the cause of his disorder.” His counterpart, the BLU Medic, was speaking. The RED tried to force his eyes open.

“Yo, eggheads. I think he’s comin’ around. You want I should bonk him?”

“No, Scout. Since there are no physical clues, ve must interview him to determine what has happened.”

“Why do we even care? Just keep killin’ his crazy ass. Put tons-of-fun on the line and he’s a sitting fucking psycho cannibal duck.”

“That’s part of the problem, Scooter. You know the big guy gets hinky with this fella around. Who wouldn’t, when someone keeps trying to... well, you know.” The Medic pried one eye open enough to see the Engineer’s face twisted in dismay. “Anyhow, since we can’t tell by lookin’, we gotta watch this guy to figure out if he’s part of something new the REDs are cooking up, or if he’s just cracked.”

“Duh, he’s psycho, so what?”

“Even if he has lost his wits, how do we know it will not happen to us? How do we know it is not a necessary consequence of Respawn or the Medigun?” The BLU Medic’s tone shut the Scout up.

“Now, Doc. No reason to go gettin’ stirred up,” the Engineer cautioned. ”Scout, we’re gatherin’ data in case the facts have any indications for us, is all.”

The Scout peered down at the Medic, so close that the RED could see the pattern on his irises. “You in there or what, ya maniac?”

“Go avay,” the Medic rasped.

“Herr,” the BLU Medic looked down at him, “do you know who you are?”

“Medic, RED team, Blutsauger.”

“Sounds lucid... you want some water, mister?” The BLU Engineer offered the enemy Medic a cup and a straw. As he drank gratefully, his BLU counterpart frowned.

“I am not so certain, Engineer. Blutsauger is not just a gun, it is a... story.” He gestured, hand outspread like a wing or cape as he tried to think of a word. “Ze... Dracula.”

“You mean vampire, ‘blood-sugger,’ right?” the Scout looked up for confirmation.

“Ja, danke.”

“All right, RED, d’you mean you own a Blutsauger, or you are a Blutsauger?” the Engineer clarified.

“I am a demon, in Hell,” the RED Medic replied, empty eyes meeting the Texan’s gaze.

“Ah... huh.” The Engineer glanced at his teammates. “Well, our Doc just had a pretty good look around at your insides and then patched you up with the Medigun. Sure looks to us like you’re alive.”

“Yeah, nothing happens when you hit a dead guy with the Medigun, you oughtta know,” the Scout offered.

“I have reclaimed my heart, drank ze blood of a god. It is... like being alive.” The Medic finished the water that the Engineer had offered, and lay back on the exam table.

“He is clearly deranged, a delusion of substitution,” the BLU Medic pronounced.

“No, wait, what if it’s true? It’d be totally just like the goddamn REDs to throw horror movie monsters at us.”

“Well, we are usin’ some of what’s technically known as ‘weird science,’ ourselves, and-” before the Engineer could finish, the Scout hooked a finger into the RED Medic’s mouth, checking for fangs.

There was a snap, and a scream. “My finger! He bit off my goddamn finger!” The BLU Scout reeled back, clutching his bleeding hand, as the strapped-down RED chewed and swallowed.

“You are not a god, but it will do,” the RED said haughtily, blood smeared on his face.

“Hail Mary full’a grace, th’Lord is withee, blessed ar’thou ‘mong women-” the Scout babbled. “Doc, hit me with that Medigun fucking fast, and blessed th’fruit a’ thy womb Jesus!” He continued praying as the BLU Medic treated him. “Fuck, fucking shit, what if he IS a vampire- I’m screwed!”

“If he was a real vampire, then Heavy’d be in bad shape about now,” the Engineer pointed out. “This fella’s been all over him for weeks.”

“That’s all we need, fucking three hundred pound vampire-”

“Silence!” The BLU Medic thundered. “Scout, this talk will spread alarm and despondence. You vill not impair the morale of this unit in that vay. If you begin to feel ze thirst for blood, report to me at once- ozzervise, shut up.”

The Scout simmered down, still looking wide-eyed at the deranged RED. “What the Hell do we even do with him, now?”

“That is the famous sixty-four thousand dollar question,” the Engineer nodded.

“Since ve do not know what is wrong, or why, we must observe his symptomology.”

“Where are we gonna keep a blood-drinkin’ psychopath?” the Scout asked.

“Son, that’s a practical problem.”

The BLUs ended up rigging one of the barrack bedrooms as a sort of jail- the lack of windows and bolted-down metal bed made the conversion depressingly easy. The Engineer ran in some basic plumbing, put a latch on the outside of the door and stripped the sheets off the bed to stop the RED from hanging himself. None of the BLUs was at ease with their unwilling guest, but the Heavy was the most affected. He wondered aloud why his teammates insisted on keeping a dangerous madman in the base, and refused to have anything to do with the captive.

The RED Medic’s ardour was undimmed. He sat by the door of his cell, watching shadows pass by in the light that streamed through the gap. The sound of the BLU Heav’s footfalls was the highlight of his existence. One day, he got his hands on a scrap of paper. When the Heavy passed by, the Medic flicked it back out under the door, densely covered with brown Gothic script.

“Doktor, what is this?” the Heavy presented the paper to his own team’s Medic, who was walking with him.

“It appears to be... poetry.” He scanned the lines. “Written in blood and seminal fluids, if I am any judge.”

The Heavy grimaced, and wiped his hand on his trousers. “What does it say?”

“That you are a god... that he worships you... he wants to- he is a very sick man, Herr.”

The Heavy shuddered, and the pair walked briskly past the makeshift cell door. When the hall was empty, a slender figure opened the latch and let himself into the Medic’s cell.

This is getting creepier and creepier and I want more.

Poor, poor sick Medic. Does Heavy had his own delusions he can bring to this meeting? Awesome story!

...Goddamn, what a place to leave off. Moremoremore, etc. etc.

Gee, RED Medic must make the best valentines ever!

Damnit, Marty. Why do you do these things to me?

...Don't stop, though.

Man, this is so freakin' interesting/awesome. I won't lie. When I saw this was updated, there was a squeal.

Oh, and CAPTCHA: sococs

Terror porn. That's all I can even think of because I am terrified of what comes next. It started out so simple and terrible, with Medic declaring himself dead and then just kept going further and further ... yeah, I know, it sounds pretentious but this is a truly Kafkaesque tale that goes darker and darker at every turn.

It could end here and I would be satisfied, but the temptation of more lures me back to refresh this story, beyond the barred doors and into danger.

Yes, yesssss. That ending has me excited for whatever will come next.

More...mooooooreeeeeee... GIMME MORE!

I was just packing now, because i go into so called holidays. And what do i find if i check the TF2chan for a last time in a long time? THIS UPDATED! Heureka. I can´t announce how much i love that medic wrote his letter in blood and seminal fluid. This should really be depressing to imaginate how he is all alone in this cell and masturbates with bloodstained hands and cold eyes... why do i find this hot? The part with the gothic script made me laugh out.

tl;dr: Marty you are more than a master of your art. You are a genius. Fell loved.

>>38
The part with the gothic script made me laugh out
No no no, this is a for srs historical detail! Up until the middle of the twentieth century, German schoolchildren learnt to write using ink pens with angled nibs, in a distinctive "Gothic" or blackletter style. Medic's handwriting is elaborate and old-fashioned, and looks particularly good written in bodily fluids.

I'm so glad people seem to like this chapter, I really wasn't sure about it. However, in consultation with Cat Bountry, Oper and the Circlejerk in general, I've come up with a plan for more of this story. Thanks, all!

More please! This is fantastic.

Holy crap, pleas keep going!!

Mooooooar! Oh cheesy god, please! D:

@Terato Marty: Oh yeah i know this with the german schoolchildren and all. Because my greatgranddad learned it and all in school and needed to learn later the latin alphabet. Still you could see it in his handwriting, that he needed to learn the deutsche Kurrentschrift before he later was forced to learn the latin alphabet.

Still it amused me to read the words gothic script and medic in one sentence.

tl;dr: Don´t hear on the stupid anon who is amused by in fact NOT funny things in this fiction.

>>43
Oh, wow. Don't worry about it, it's actually an honour to have my nitpicky details picked up by someone who knows what I'm talking about.

>Everyone else I swear I'm working on MOAR. I have two chapters written out longhand already; it's just that every time I turn the computer on to type it up, someone messages me with a Crisis.

[This part is dedicated to Oper. Cat Bountry, don't worry, I still love you].
----------------------------------------------------------
PART 5

Perched on his haunches, listening to the BLU Heavy’s retreating footsteps, the RED Medic was bowled over backward when the door to his cell slammed open. The BLU Scout rushed him and walloped him with his bat, first breaking the arm that he held up in self-defence, then stunning him with a blow to the head. While the Medic struggled to blink away the flashes of light swimming in his vision, the Scout threw him to the bare mattress and lashed his hands to the bed.

“Okay, freakshow,” the Boston boy addressed him while ripping open a medi-kit and letting its packaged vapours wash over his captive, “Our Doc thinks you’re a Respawn mutant, Demo’s convinced you’re a horror monster, and Truckie thinks you’re plain crazy. Me, though, I’m playing the odds. If RED has super-power blood-drinkers that can’t die, whether they’re from nuclear radiation or curses or what, then BLU needs ‘em, too. And if BLU is gonna have a super-monster, it’s gonna be ME. Got that?”

Although the Medic’s head was clearing, the younger man’s tirade still wasn’t making much sense until he unsheathed a pilfered scalpel, undid his handwraps and cut a gash in the heel of his hand.

“Shit, that smarts. Go on, drink up, pally. We got some work to do if I’m gonna be a vampire.”

“But your soul- you prayed-” the Medic turned his head away.

“Yeah, but I been thinkin’. After what I done, my odds of Heaven are only about fifty-fifty, at best. And the Pope says God will forgive anyone as long as they repent, so as long as I crack open a Mea Culpa before I go down, I guess I’m good.” He pressed his bloody hand to the Medic’s mouth.

“I-” Suddenly, the Medic’s mind was full of the Scout- taste, smell, heat, heartbeat. He moaned as he licked the blood from the younger man’s hand, and sighed with disappointment as the Scout pulled his hand away.

“Huh, shoulda brought another medi-kit,” the Scout said, binding his bloody palm back up with his handwrap. “Or maybe two.” He twisted open the buttons on the Medic’s BLU-issue pyjama jacket and laid the scalpel against the older man’s chest. “Now, how I understand it, you drink from me, and I drink from you, three times, then I’m a vampire.”

“Nein!”

“Tough, Fritz. You got yours, now I’m gettin’ mine.”

“Nein! No! I mean- do not! Do not become what I am! Please!” The Medic thrashed against his restraints. “I am poison!”

“Relax, Doc.” The Scout put a calming hand on the Medic’s bound shoulder. “Just let me do this.” The Scout pressed his lips to the Medic’s breastbone, lapping at the blood. As he did so, the German felt something pour into him, warm and sweet, making the blood he was losing seem trivial by comparison. He moaned again, arching his back to offer more of himself to the Scout.

“Man, I hope that tastes better to a vampire, if that’s what I have to drink forever.” After an interval both timeless and too sort, the Scout stood up, wiping his mouth on his handwraps. He glanced down the Medic’s body. “Whoa, uh...” He glanced again. “Anyhow, I’m not letting you up, but the knots are pretty shitty, so you should be able to squirm out eventually.” He sidled out of the room, locking the door behind him.

The RED medic worked his hands free, but did not leave the bed. He dreaded passing on his curse to the BLU, but the Scout’s breath and blood and lips had been so warm. He wanted to drink from the boy again, wanted to let the boy drink from him until there was nothing left. He slid his hand down the incision that the boy had made, down the centre of his body to where the warmth had pooled.

The Medic had thought that this was one of the behaviours that had sent him to Hell. If that was so, why was he able to do it still? He wasn’t even certain that he was in Hell anymore. The screams and explosions had ended, and for the past few days his life had been proscribed by these pale-grey walls and solitude. The BLU Engineer and Medic had peered at him occasionally through a grille installed in the door, but had made no aggressive move. And now... this.

The Medic stroked himself delicately, the pleasure of the Scout’s touch reverberating through his body even as his own blood dried on his chest. Such a little thing to sacrifice, for so much in return. Better than stealing blood on the battlefield, to take something willingly given. Willingly- as much as he didn’t want the Scout to die like him, to suffer like him, he wanted to take everything the boy had to give. He came, imagining what else the Scout might demand.

When the BLU Medic slid the grate aside the next morning, he winced to see his fellow German smeared in semen and blood. His stomach turned at the man’s pathetic obsession. At least he was sleeping peacefully on the bed for a change, rather than perched wild-eyed near the door.

>>45
Now Medic loves not only BLU Heavy, but also BLU Scout.
Hmm...Would he suffer from choosing one of them?? Well, that will depend on how Marty continues the story.
Good story as always!!

>>45

Marty. Oh, Marty. I...you are gifted.

I've been here since the beginning, but I'm now following this fic like a hawk. This is my absolute favourite.

pt 6 soon pls!

saving this one from the last page! Bump

Dear god. I remember reading the first part of this before the chan exploded, and now I see there is so much more, and I adore where it's going. Please more. You hit on so many things I find utterly delicious and thrilling. Again, Marty, thank you for reminding me why I love this fandom.

>>50
!! I'm so glad you like my stuff, because I LOVE yours. Seriously, if there's ever any story you want to read, or a picture that you want someone to invent backstory for, just let me know.
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PART 6

The next day, the Scout burst through the cell door again, bat at the ready, only to find the RED Medic sitting patiently on the bed.

“There is no need, Herr. I will not resist.” The older man lay back on the bare and bloodstained mattress, arms crossed.

“No funny business...” the Scout crept forward.

“None,” the Medic agreed.

“Okay, hands at your sides.” The Scout lashed the Medic’s hands to the bed with clumsy haste. “You’re sick, man.” He glanced down at his captive’s crotch.

“Ja... since I was a young man. I swore I was cured, but I lied, I am afraid.”

“Well, uh... wait, what? Are you saying you’ve been a vampire for years?”

“Nein, only since I died.”

“Riiiight...” abandoning this line of enquiry, the Scout cut the heel of his hand again, and held it to the Medic’s mouth. The German’s moan thrummed against his skin. “You’re really into this, ain’tcha?”

“Ja-” the Medic was breathing heavily, mouth smeared with blood.

“I guess the Hell so...” the Scout glanced downward again. “You want this, too?” He flicked the scalpel in the Medic’s face, imitating one of the Spy’s moves.

“Ja, bitte.” The Medic offered up his throat.

“Oh, man.” The Scout swallowed hard, and chanced a tentative scrape against the cords of the other man’s neck. He didn’t think he’d hit anything major; maybe he should have asked the crazy RED to do it- he almost had to laugh at himself. However, the position proved awkward- he basically had to lie across his prisoner to get at the wound he’d made. This was... this was more than he’d bargained for, especially when the enemy doctor moaned and writhed beneath him.

The Scout was snapped back to reality by the feel of a hand on his head, spidery fingers threading through his hair. “Whoa whoa whoa!” He leapt off the Medic, scrabbling for his bat. The man’s left hand was free, and mere inches from the dropped scalpel. He was alone in a room with a crazy guy who was getting loose- never mind what was happening in his pants. He raised the bat threateningly.

“Nein- I will not hurt you-” the free hand was raised in an inoffensive manner.

“... Good.” The Scout lowered his bat and wiped the gore from his mouth. “You don’t hurt me, I won’t bat your head in.”

“Indeed, a truce.” The Medic chanced a smile, shy under a layer of blood.

“Truce,” the Scout agreed, letting himself out.

The next night, the Scout’s stomach was churning. This was the real test... he carried his bat almost casually, bigger things on his mind as he let himself into the Medic’s cell.

“Okay, Drac.” He looked at the man sitting calmly on the bed. “Tonight, we gotta drink each other’s blood, and you gotta kill me. Drain me dry, so I come back as a vampire.”

“Are you sure?” The Medic’s eyes widened fractionally. “You still can go back, can pray and repent. Please, do not repeat my fall.”

“Nope, I made up my mind.” Objections always solidified the Scout’s resolve. “If it works, I live forever; if not, I just respawn. No way to lose, right?” He bounced his bat against his shin.

“If you say,” the Medic laid down.

“Okay. I’m not gonna tie you up tonight. You gotta keep drinkin’ after I pass out or whatever, got it?”

“I understand.” The Medic opened his arms to the younger man.

“I’ll cut you, you cut me, all right?” The Scout raised the scalpel, caked with blood from previous nights.

“Of course.” The Medic offered his throat again.

“All right,” the Scout repeated, making a wound parallel to the scabs from the previous night. “Now you do me.” He passed the blade and raised his chin.

“Other side,” the RED Medic suggested. “This way, you can lie on me as we drink one another’s blood?”

“Good idea- shit!” the Scout winced as he was cut, then stretched out on top of the other man’s body.

The shallow wound on the Medic’s neck barely oozed as the Scout lapped at it, but blood flowed much more readily from the Medic’s practised incision to the Scout’s jugular. Soon, the room was spinning, and black-and-red flowers were blooming in the Scout’s vision. The Medic’s arms around him felt safe and warm, until he couldn’t feel anything any more.

The next morning, the BLU Medic screamed with horror and rage at what he saw through the grille on the door of the RED Medic’s cell. The rest of the BLU team hurried toward him, and burst into the room to find the Scout and the RED psychopath lying together, drenched in blood. There was gore soaked into the mattress. The floor was slick with it. It was dried and cracked on the Medic’s face, and on the pale skin of the dead Scout, who lay in his arms like a lover.

Oh man this hits just about every one of my kinks...and it is fantastically written. I already crave more~

MEHR BITTE.

Shit, this is the greatest fic in history.

Oh Jesus. Blood loss makes me so squeamish. I still read every word though. Scout is such an idiot. Good job!

oh man...do more pleas! huyrry!

holy shit

This is possibly one of the best fics I've ever read, bar none. Can't wait for the next chapter!

PART 7

“This is not good!” the BLU Heavy roared, slapping both palms on the desk in the Intel room where the team had gathered. “We cannot keep this- sick- animal- in the base!”

“You’d prefer he were loose on the field?” the Spy sneered. “Non, keep him caged.”

“It may be a completely new pathology,” the BLU Medic said. “I am now convinced that we must study and defeat it.” His face was grey and there were bags under his eyes, but he was resolute.

“What’s the big frickin’ deal?” the Scout asked, adjusting his hat. “I came back just fine after Respawn kicked on for the day, anyway.”

“Why in the Sam Hill were you in there in the first place?” the Engineer thundered.

“Look, you’re a smart guy. It’s like a weapons gap. Back me up here, Solly. If the REDs are gonna have monsters, then the BLUs damn well better, too.” The Scout crossed his arms. “Except it’s bullshit. I’m still not a vampire. Demo helped me check.”

“Aye,” the Scot confirmed. “Noo response to sunlight, garlic or th’ crucifix, can still recite the Lord’s Prayer, even if it is a craven Papist muddle, still prefers pancakes to a mug o’ steamin’ blood.”

“That’s… disturbingly scientific of you,” the Engineer said. “Doc, tell me you didn’t put them up to this.”

“Nein,” the Medic’s lip curled. “After observing for a week, I have noted nothing supernatural about the subject. He demonstrates all vital processes and digests normal food. He even appears to have vomited up much of the blood that he tried to drink.” The man’s face twisted in disgust. “I am increasingly convinced that this is a psychopathology, due to organic brain damage from repeated Respawn. It requires study, more than I can achieve. I have written a letter requesting his transfer to a more complete medical facility, but have had no response. We keep him, until we get one.”

“No!” The Heavy’s voice was loud, but tinged with pleading. “He is monster!”

“Mate, there’s no other way to get rid of ‘im.” The Sniper put a hand on the Heavy’s shoulder. “My first posting, I did some tests, you know, with the enemy Scout. No matter how far away from the base I herded the little bleeder, he’d always respawn when I finally shot ‘im. Either we keep that RED locked up, or you’ll just be having me bag him again in a week when you’re tired of him crawling on your corpse.”

The Heavy shuddered, but went quiet.

“Don’t worry about it, big guy,” the Scout thumped the Russian’s shoulder reassuringly. “I think I got his crazy ass figured out.”

That night, after batting in approximately a million skulls, the BLU Scout was feeling pretty good about himself. He went to the RED Medic’s room.

“Herr Scout!” the RED launched himself off the bed, causing the Scout to momentarily regret leaving his bat behind. However, the Medic only wanted to hug him and pet his face. “You’re alive, Großter Gott, you’re alive!”

“Yeah, Doc, I’m alive. Not a vampire or nothing’! It’s okay.” The Scout let the older man fuss, and they sat together on the bed. “Wait- the fuck is this?”

The bare mattress was still bloodstained, as were the floor and the Medic’s ragged pyjamas; Respawn generally reclaimed the big chunks, but missed enough molecules of blood to leave some bad stains. “This is not okay, man. You can’t live like this.”

“I washed my body in the basin,” the Medic hung his head. “I do not like to be filthy.”

“… and you haven’t had a real shower in a week, have you.” The Scout looked at the Medic. “Hang on, wait here.” He darted out, leaving the door unlocked.

The Medic was still sitting quietly on his brown-crusted mattress when the Scout returned, towing the Pyro behind him. “Look, Mumbles. I know you understand about the need for some goddamn privacy in the shower. All’s you gotta do is stand guard, he won’t even try to get out.”

“Hhh-” the rubber-clad man sounded sceptical, even through his filtres.

“Herr Pyro,” the RED Medic stood. “I would very much like a shower, and I promise to take no aggressive action.”

The Pyro lifted his right hand off his flamethrower’s trigger and extended it toward the RED. They shook hands gingerly.

“Hrrky,” the Pyro nodded to the Scout. He herded the Medic to the bathrom, making sure that there was no-one else in the midnight hall.

When the Medic returned, wrapped in a blue robe and still under the Pyro’s gaze, he found that the Scout had flipped his mattress, put sheets on his bed, and was mopping the blood off the floor.

The Medic was momentarily speechless. “Herr Scout, how nice!” he said when he recovered.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Ma always made us help around the house. Thanks, Mumbles, you can go off-duty now. I owe ya big-time.”

“Hrrm-”

“No, man, I swear it’s fine.”

“Huddah hr hrhmm.”

“No, I bet you a case of beer I’m still alive tomorrow morning.”

“Hr nt hld hngh tr drrnk.”

“See, you already know I’m gonna win!” The Scout shooed the Pyro away. “Okay, Doc,” the Scout wrung out the last of the brown water nd washed his hands in the room’s little sink. “Siddown.”

The Medic sat gingerly, stroking the clean, smooth sheets.

“That’s better, ain’t it?” The Scout sat also, dropping his hand to the Medic’s knee. “So I noticed, you got a boner every time I drank your blood. I’m wonderin’ whether that’ll happen even if there’s no knives an’ shit involved.”

The erstwhile RED sat frozen, eyes wide, heart beating in his ears. The Scout striped off his hat and shirt, revealing tawny-tanned skin gleaming over lean muscles. “Get an eyefull’a this.” The Scout flexed his arms. “Ya like what ya see?”

“Ja,” the Medic swallowed hard. “Far too much.”

“No such thing, I’m freakin’ gorgeous,” the Scout grinned. “Couple’a ground rules. No bitin’, no gougin’, no drinkin’ blood an’ nobody tries to kill anybody.” He pushed the Medic’s robe down over the older man’s shoulders. “Other than that, we just do what seems like a good idea at the time. Got it?”

“Ja-” the Medic was terrified- this had to be a trick, some fresh torment of Hell. But the BLU Scout was so close, looking so pure and perfect. He couldn’t move, but he didn’t resist as the boy kissed him, probing his mouth with a quick, hot tongue.

The Medic moaned, and the Scout took his cue to push the man to the bed and lie on top of him. Unwilling to interrupt the moment, the Medic let the Scout kiss him. The boy’s hands wandered everywhere, combing through the Medic’s body hair, tweaking his nipples, gripping his shoulders. The older man moaned again, and slid his legs apart, letting the Scout press a knee between them.

“Fuck yeah,” the Scout muttered, and hauled his britches down past his hips. His erection sprung free, and he clawed at the belt of the Medic’s robe to press their cocks together.

The heat of the Scout’s body at the root of his being proved too much for the Medic. He bucked and groaned, writhing against the sweet warmth of the younger man. His mouth closed convulsively on the Scout’s shoulder, just a fraction too lightly to draw blood. No blood- whatever the new rules were, ‘no blood’ was one of them.

“Holy-” the Scout smiled down at the smear of white between them. “Hair trigger, huh?” He slicked the Medic’s semen over his own cock. “Yeah… ‘s kinda hot. You get off on me, don’t ya?”

The Medic nodded mutely. He was boneless, ecstatic, overwhelmed. He didn’t exactly understand the Scout’s slang, but it was fine. Whatever the Scout said was absolutely fine. The Scout kissed him, still rutting against his hip, and the Medic responded by gently sliding his tongue along the Scout’s own.

The Scout groaned into the Medic’s open mouth, then pulled back. “Hey, yanno what’d be frickin’ amazing?”

“Vas- ja?” the Medic murmured.

“I want ya to suck my cock. You wanna?” He propped himself up on one elbow, stroking his erection to put it on display for the man underneath him. The Medic’s mouth dropped open in shock, and that seemed to be all the encouragement that the Scout needed to crawl up along the Medic’s body and sit beside him at the edge of the bed. “Come on,” the Scout jerked his cock toward the Medic’s mouth. “Please? I need it.”

If he needed it… the Medic got up on his knees and bowed his head to kiss the younger man’s erection. It moved toward him of its own accord, following the stream of his breath, and the Medic ventured to kiss it. His touch was tender, full of awe- what was he supposed to do? To suck, of course, but how- which part, with what pressure? He let his mouth fall open again, tasting his own semen on the other man’s erection, trusting the Scout to do as he pleased.

“You ain’t gonna bite me, right?” The Scout laughed nervously.

“Nein- no. I only- I do not know what to do.”

“Oh, uh, well… I was hopin’ ya would. I’ve never had- I mean I- uh, look, just lick it or somethin’.”

That, at least, was easy enough. The Medic licked it like a stick of candy, like a melting ice-cream, like a treat he had been denied his entire life. The Scout moaned and writhed beneath him- this was not unique in the Medic’s experience, but the man under him had always been struggling, or else convulsing in the throes of death. This was the first time in years, decades, that he had made someone arch and gasp in pure pleasure. Scout thrust the head of his cock between the Medic’s lips, gasping and cursing. When the Medic moaned in rapture at the salty heat on his tongue, the Scout’s breathing hitched and his hands clasped tightly on the German’s shoulders.

The Medic wasn’t quite clear on what was happening until a wave of bitter salt washed over his tongue. It wasn’t delicious, but certainly no worse than blood, and the sighs of joy that came with it made it the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He lapped it up, then gazed u at the Scout.

“Oh, ohh man…” the Scout was smiling at him, tired and gentle, the single most pleasant expression that the Medic had seen in ages. “That was unbelievable… I need at lie down.”

The Medic obligingly made room for the Scout to lie beside him, and was rewarded with an embrace as soon as the younger man tucked his cock back in his britches. As they drifted off to sleep together, the Medic felt blessed beyond any hope that he had ever dared.

Oh! The best of surprises! Somehow I missed part 6, so I got to read two... and holy God, I was not expecting to read /that./

That was delicious and I love you (and your many Medics).

This is...strangely sweet.

>>59

I agree, this was surprisingly heartwarming considering the context of their union. Great though! I have my fingers crossed that this is heading towards a threesome with Scout, Heavy and Medic. Hnnggg.

This was great marty! cant wait for more. its nice to see it turned into more scout/medic (with scout top no less). there is a lot of medic/heavy out there so this is surprisingly refreshing.

Doc just needed a good gay fuck. Figures Scout would figure out it was blue balls.

Imma just sit here with my campfire and marshmallows and see how this turns out.

It just keeps getting better... I'm still hoping for some heavy/medic at some point, but this is just fantastic. Very satisfying... I absolutely love your medic.

Bumped.

Yes, I'm still busily writing this. Less gore in this chapter, sorry.

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PART 8


Although the Scout sneaked out of the Medic’s room early in the morning after the first time, there were other times. The Scout undid the latch on the Medic’s door at least once a day, generally after lights-out, sometimes before dawn; never during battles, seldom when his teammates were awake.

It didn’t matter to the Medic. He was always glad to see the younger man. The Scout was endlessly creative with ways to put their bodies together, methods of giving each other pleasure. He did not appear to mind that the older man was a captive vampire. He relaxed into a more unstudied self when he lay in the arms of his enemy prisoner.

“You are good to me,” he told the Scout as the boy lay sprawled across him, exhausted.

“I- what?” The younger man looked up at him, surprised and embarrassed.

“You are kind to me. You give me life.” The Medic licked his lips. The pure, white life-force of the Scout’s semen was so much richer, more satisfying and more pleasant to obtain than blood.

“Sometimes I forget you’re still crazy,” the Scout said, but hugged him tightly.

“O-ho! What’s this, then?” The Demoman burst in through the door, which the Scout had incautiously left ajar. “Ye’ve lured the lad back wi’ yer hypnotic powers!”

“Aght! Go away!” the Scout threw a shoe at the Demoman.

“Ye’re in the thrall of Hellspawn, lad!” The Scot tried to haul the younger man from the bed.

“I am not, jeez!” The Scout struggled. “He didn’t turn me into a vampire, he’s got absolute zero magical powers.” He squirmed out of the Demoman’s grip and added under his breath, “look, he just gives really good blowjobs, okay?”

“Ye’d put yer manhood in the mouth o’ Hell?”

“I got needs! I’d be stickin’ it in the Spam by now if he wasn’t putting out!”

“Aye, I knoo what ye mean,” the Demoman replied with feeling. He cast his one eye on the Medic in a speculative way. “… d’you think he’d goo fer me?”

The Scout shrugged. “Hey, Doc. You wanna, you know, for Demo, too?”

The Medic looked up at the one-eyed explosives expert. “When I was a child, I was terrified of the other-races. We were taught to fear, as if you were the monsters beneath the bed.” He reached out, pale fingers touching the other man’s dark hand. “I would be glad to do as you wish.”

“All reet then!” The Demoman seized the Medic’s hair and began fumbling with his fly. The Medic’s eyes went wide with terror as his head was jerked back, and he bared his teeth.

“Hey, dumbass!” The Scout slapped the Demoman’s hand off the Medic’s head. “You can’t do it like that! You know how he gets!” The young man did a quick pantomime, twirling his finger by his temple and clacking his teeth together. “Yo, you OK?” He leaned down to look the Medic in the eye.

“Please,” the Medic looked away. “Do not bring violence here.”

“Not much of a monster, are ye?” The Demoman put a gentler hand on the Medic’s head.

“I would rather drink pleasure than blood. Please, only pleasure.”

“I… understand.” The Demoman put a hand under the Medic’s chin and gently brought them back into eye contact. “Had enough o’ battle?”

“Ja.” The Medic took the black man’s hands in his own.

The Demoman nodded, squeezing the Medic’s hands. The Medic responded by kissing the other man’s hands, his fingertips, before undoing his fly and kissing the head of his cock. He watched in fascination as blood flushed the dark skin purple. For his part, the Scot groaned and staggered back to sit heavily on the bed.

“Ooh, fook, I’d forgot how god it is not tae have tae take matters inta yer own hands,” he grinned at the Scout as the Medic lay across his lap. “Just like that, holy fook,” he gasped when the German began to suck.

Their strange prisoner worked slowly, methodically, taking in the sight, scent, taste and feel of the Demoman’s cock. He seemed to be trying to memorise it. The Demoman had to wind his hands into the sheets to avoid clutching at the Medic’s head.

“Oh, bloody Hell,” the Demoman moaned. He jerked his hips, thrusting up into the Medic’s mouth. The older man gagged and spluttered even as the Demoman sighed in pleasure.

“You awright, man?" The Scout put a hand on the Medic's shoulders.

"Ja, fine." The Medic wiped his mouth. "A mere momentary setback." He smiled up at the startled Demoman and set to work again. He bobbed his head, trying to duplicate the movement that had made the Demoman so happy, without choking himself. Soon, the Scot was moaning and shaking beneath him. The Medic ventured to hum around the cock in his mouth in the way that the Scout liked best, and was rewarded with a groaning shout of pleasure and a rush of semen across his tongue.

As the Demoman lay panting with bliss, the Scout grinned down at the Medic. "That was sorta hot, watching you work." He leaned down to kiss the older man- the Medic was thrilled by the way that the Scout probed his mouth for the tang of the Demoman's seed. "I bet you're hard as fuck, aren't you?" he leered. "Stand up."

The Medic stood awkwardly- indeed, an erection was tenting his pyjama pants.

"Shuck down," the Scout ordered, grinning harder. "I wanna see you naked." The Medic stared at the Scout curiously, but obeyed. "Look at that," the Scout nudged the Demoman. "You could bust down doors with that thing." He reached down to run a finger along the thick vein at the underside, and the Medic moaned. "Lemme see ya touch yourself."

"Amazing," the Medic sighed as he stroked himself for the Scout's amusement, "to think that I had Heaven and Hell mistaken for so long."

>>65

My God. When I bumped this to save it from the next page, I had no idea you'd be updating it any time soon. And it is wonderful. Also, though I'd never expected it to head in this direction before, I sense that this fic is speedily heading into Orgy territory. I am so okay with that.

Care to confirm/deny, Marty?

Fuck yeah Demoman porn! The world is now a better place.

I just have the most magnificent sadboner right now.

Well, it's not sad, not at all! It's made out of sadness, but it's still a boner.

Scout is always the best therapist; this reminds me of the Scout in your Child Molestee but a little more self-aware. I love his patient advocacy; it's not "uguuu my boyfriend~" but "hey, knock that off you dumbass."

Marty, this entire epic should be leather bound and sitting on my mantelpiece.

Marty, how are you so good to us?

Two down, seven to go?

Curious as to what RED Team's been up to all this time.
"Hey, did Medic disappear or something?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Makin' sure it wasn't just me."

Medic, you crazy bitch. at first raged a bit at medics characterization, but now i find it super sexy

>>72
after watching him go crazy and repeatedly eat the enemy? I'm betting their thinking "I don't care WHERE he is, as long as he's not here."

>“Ye’d put yer manhood in the mouth o’ Hell?”
Completely kills my libido when hilarious lines like that come up. I was on the floor.

>>74
But sans Medic, the fight becomes nine on eight! Also, and this might just be me, if one of my teammates is so dedicated as to be wiling to EAT our enemy, I would consider him a valuable asset. Yeah, he's crazy, but it's enemy-directed crazy. Useful crazy! It kinda helps that his fixation is on the big scary guy with the minigun.

With all the non-Medic means of healing these days, they probably haven't even realized he's captured. They just rationalize his disappearance as "la la la he's probably being a big-ass freak again".

>>75
Sorry, I can never be totally serious. If it's any help, I'm the same way in bed.

>>74
Actually, the RED team know where the Medic is- they saw the BLUs capture him. He's only been their prisoner for about a week, now. There was some initial debate on the RED side as to whether they should rescue him or let the BLUs keep him. Honour versus pragmatism. Practicality has won out- even if they get him back, he's still barking mad- so they've requested a replacement from Headquarters and are trying not to think about the implications. The thing is, I have this all reasoned out, but there's no real place to put it. This is a psychodrama, an account of what's happening in Medic's twisted mind. He's not thinking about his former teammates, so they aren't in the story.

>>78

Ah, right then; I'd wondered if you had plans, and that answers that. Thank you for your response, and also for writing this fanfic in general.

PART 9

"I know you're the medical man, Doc, but that poor bastard we got locked up hardly seems crazy at all, any more."

"I quite disagree, Herr Engineer." The BLU Medic took off his gloves and adjusted his cuffs. "He is paranoid-schizophrenic, dwelling in a world of gods and devils, prone to violence one moment, catatonia the next." The BLU looked uneasy discussing the madness of his RED counterpart.

"Catatonia? When'd that happen?"

"This morning," the Medic sighed. "I felt it unwholesome for him to dwell in the bloody filth of-" he cut himself off, not wanting to discuss the Scout's bloody murder the day before. "I felt that he could use a bath. When I suggested as much, he spat defiance and said it was unnecessary. I brought the Soldier in, and together we went into his cell. As soon as I laid hands on him, his eyes rolled back in his head and he became unresponsive. I will concede that he seemed to have done an adequate job of cleaning himself, but I felt that a proper bath was required nonetheless. With the Soldier standing guard, I stripped him and scrubbed him in the Infirmary tub. He was a pathetic sight, shaking and drooling.”

“That does sound bad,” the Engineer winced.

“Also, while it reflects a commendably charitable impulse, I question the wisdom of your decision to provide bedsheets to our patient. We cannot be sure that he will not attempt suicide.”

“I didn’t give him sheets,” the Engineer’s raised eyebrow moved his goggles.

“Someone else is in contact with him? I must find out who!”

“Doc, you can’t do everything around here. I’ll ask Spy to keep an eye on him.”

What the Spy observed about the comings and goings in the RED Medic’s cell proved very interesting, indeed, though for reasonso of his own, he reported that the RED had received no visitors. Instead, when the Scout and the Demoman let themselves into the cell, giggling and punching each other like children, he followed silently through the unlatched door.

He cleared his throat even as they fell to the bed to kiss and paw the prisoner. “Gentlemen,” he grinned savagely.

“Fuck, Spook!” the Scout whipped upright, then hunched to try to hide his erection.

“What d’ye want?” the Demoman exclaimed, irate at the intrusion.

“Shit, you’re gonna snitch on us, or blackmail us, or somethin’ ain’t ya?”

“I divulge secrets only when paid, and at present I am paid only for information pertaining to the RED team. The doings of my teammates could not interest me less,” the Spy remarked. “As for blackmail... such an ugly word. All I want is to take part in the general entertainment. After all, were I involved, it would be my loss if someone were to inform le Docteur.”

The Scout, Demoman and RED Medic stared at the Spy while his speech sank in. The madman was the first to recover. “Herr Spy, tell the Doctor any story to keep him away from me, and I will do whatever you desire.” His eyes were fixed on the floor as he spoke.

“What?” The Scout waved his arms. “You can’t just fold like that! Don’t let him shove you into shit!”

“You may coerce the prisoner for sexual favours, but no-one else?” The Spy quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s not like that!” the Scout sputtered.

“I understand,” the Spy said, affecting a soothing tone. “A young man, a long way from les filles, seeking comfort and pleasure wherever it may be found... all I ask is that you permit me the same.”

“No, no!” the Scout hissed. “I was tryin’ to make him vampire me, an’ he got hard! I came back to fool around when the vampire thing didn’t pan out. He just... I just...” the young man took a breath. “Look, just because he’s not allaway right in the head doesn’t mean you can just walk up and demand a blowjob! Ya gotta ask!”

“A strange assertion.” The Spy looked down at the captive, whose lips were white and compressed with fear. “Would a polite request suffice?”

“Herr Spy,” the RED Medic looked up. “I enjoy giving pleasure. I would certainly do as much for you, but I would prefer not to do it under the threat of being reported.”

“You must pardon a highly suspicious man.” The Spy sat on the bed as if it were his own. “What do you get out of it?”

“I get to live, or exist as least, without drinking blood. I get to rest in this beautiful place of peace,” he said, ignoring the Spy’s disbelieving look around the bare cell, “far from screams and explosions. I get to touch and be touched in ways I forbade myself while I lived. I am in Heaven.” By now, even the Scout was gaping at him.

“Bizarre,” the Spy remarked, “but you will pleasure me?”

“So long as I do so without threats, yes.”

“You sure, Doc?” the Scout asked.

“Quite certain,” the Medic took the young man’s hand. “I feel that you protect me.”

“Okay, go for it,” the Scout frowned. “Spook, your skull has a date wit’ my bat if you hurt him.”

“Watch yerself, Frenchie,” the Demoman cautioned. “E’s a dangerous monster- the slightest mistreatment will wake in him a demon o’ vengeance, thirsty for blood.”

“Please, do not remind me,” the Medic shook his head as he knelt in front of the Spy to unzip his fly. “I want only peace.”

Th Spy had been about to make some comment, until the sensation of the Medic’s lips shut him up. He panted, but soon seemed skeptical. “Enthusiastic, oui, but clearly the work of an amateur, who has learnt his idea of pleasure from other amateurs.” The Medic looked up, hurt. “Do not dive in with pure suction, The Spy instructed. “Tease and promise with your lips, the tip of your tongue.”

The Medic did as he was told, licking wetly along the Spy’s shaft, nibbling with his lips.

“Like that,” the Spy groaned, leaning back. “Around the head, oui, and use your hand.” He let the Medic work for a while before issuing another instruction. “Now take me in your mouth, carefully, cover your teeth with your lips. Twist your tongue around it, like this-” the French man sucked one of the Medic’s fingers.

“Holy shit, this is hot,” the Scout murmured to the Demoman.

“Only wait until I have completed this lesson,” the Medic smiled. “I will show you both what I have learnt.”

“Hell yeah,” the Scout grinned down at the Medic. “Teach ‘im good, Spooky.”

“His instincts for this are sound,” the Spy panted approvingly. “Hold still, diable, I wish to fuck your mouth.” The Spy thrust forward. “It is a skill, to receive this.... put a hand on my hip to stead yourself.... très bon.” He shifted his hips slowly back and forth. “You may find it helps to breathe through your nose.”

The former RED did as he was told, drooling copiously as the Spy had his way.

“Parfait...” the Spy groaned. “I am going to move your head for you,” he said, wrapping long, gloved fingers around the Medic’s skull. “Do not bite, and I will not choke you.”

“Oh, fuck,” the Scout said, taking out his dick and stroking it.

“Aye,” the Demoman agreed, following suit.

The Spy thrust with smooth, graceful strokes, muttering polyglot profanity under his breath. “Bear up, Docteur, I am almost- Ah!” The Spy shouted with his abrupt orgasm. “Ah! Agh! Mon DIEU!” He collapsed back onto the bed, shaking, as the Medic wiped his mouth.

“That was GREAT!” The Scout thumped the Medic on the back.

“Indeed it was,” the Spy sighed. “Did you teach him to swallow at the end like that?”

“Nah, he came up with that all on his own,” the Scout said proudly.

“I simply noticed that Herr Scout and Herr Demoman both enjoyed it,” the Medic said modestly.

“You have a talent,” the Spy smiled, touching the Medic’s face.

“No shit,” the Scout grinned proudly, and nudged the Demoman as the Spy lit a cigarette.

“Would you care for one?” The French man offered a cigarette to the German.

“Thank you.” The Medic took it.

“You don’t smoke,” the Scout pointed out as the Medic tucked the cigarette away in his bedframe, beside the mattress.

“Non, he does not,” the Spy snapped his cigarette case shut. “But in many places, cigarettes are the currency of the black market. I wonder, Herr Doktor, where have you been?”

The Medic looked startled, but held his ground. “All of Deutschland, after the War, was a black market.”

“Stop being a dick, Spook.” The Scout glared at the Spy. “C’mere.” He motioned for the Medic to stand.

The Medic got up, but before he could dust off his knees, the Scout was hugging him. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about where you been, ‘m just glad you’re here now.”

“Thank you.” The Medic smiled, and reached down to stroke the Scout’s cock, which was still hanging out of his pants.

“Nah, nah,” the Scout pushed the Medic’s hands away and fumbled with the older man’s buttoned fly. “I wanna do something, yanno, for you.” He took out the Medic’s cock and pressed it against his own. “Okay, kinda for me, too.” He took both their cocks in one hand and wrapped his free arm around the Medic’s waist. “Hey, Demo, get over here.”

Grinning wickedly, the Demoman joined them, pressing his cock against the others’ and adding his dark hand around the Scout’s paler one.

“Yes-” the Medic gasped, and would have staggered except that the other two held him up. The Demoman laughed and kissed the Medic, pressing his tongue into the older man’s mouth, while the Scout watched appreciatively. The young man ducked his head to nibble at the Medic’s neck, eliciting a breathless groan.

The Spy sat up on the bed, enjoying the show. “I do believe some lubrication would be of use.” He withdrew a tube from his coat pocket.

“Wow, ready for everything,” the Scout panted as he grabbed the lube.

“Non. I have not the faintest idea where to get my hands on an Alfa Romeo at this hour,” the Spy chuckled at his own joke. “However, I am generally ready for a little harmless debauchery.” He added a gloved hand to the circle, stroking delicately, indiscriminately. The Medic moaned and pressed his body against the Scout’s hip.

“Aw, fuck yeah,” the Scout panted. “You like this, don’t ya? Three guys feelin’ ya up?” He slid his hand down.

“Ohh, oh, ja,” the Medic laid a sloppy kiss on the Scout’s cheek. “Heaven...”

His three lovers jerked him hard and fast, pleasuring him with their hands and cocks, passing him back and forth among themselves. He bit back whimpers, trying not to cry out. He came with a silent scream as he collapsed into the Scout’s arms.

Yessssss....

Oh Marty, if I only had a tenth of your skill... I'm betting Sniper is next.

>>81
Doktor, your stuff is some of the best I've seen, easily on par with mine. And, well spotted, Sniper is next... just not how you'd think.

I think it says a lot when one of my least favorite stories on this website is still entertaining enough to read, and written by the person that wrote my favorite story on the site.

So...yeah. Nice job on this. I personally don't like it, but I can definitely see the quality in it.

83
Terato has the gift of turning everything hot.

>>82 I am both frightened and aroused. Can't wait.

Damn marty dont tease us juss hive us MOAR

PART 11

The Spy didn’t end up visiting the Medic as often as the others, and the Scout was still his most frequent visitor. However, whenever the Spy showed up, he always had a trick to teach their prisoner, some refinement of technique. Of course, he always took the first turn, so that the others could benefit from the Medic’s new skills.

“Spy, I appreciate you know more about this shit than most, but can’t ya let someone else go first, for a change? There’s a thing called ‘takin’ turns’ they teach us about in kindygarden.”

“We are taking turns,” the Spy said levelly. “I am taking the first turn.”

“Ye snake!” the Demoman raged.

“Please, please.” The Medic held up a calming hand. “I agree with the Scout, it is unfair if one of you always claims precedence. However, Scout, you do come to me so often.” He looked fondly at the younger man. “I would have it no other way. I propose to pleasure each of you in turn. A solo visit will count as a first turn, logically. Should more than one of you visit at the same time, the one who has least recently had a first turn takes precedence. I shall keep track.”

“Verra fair,” the Demoman nodded, smiling.

“Yer a genius, Doc.” The Scout hugged his lover, his captive. “But how do we know who takes the first turn now?”

“I have a notion,” the Medic smiled confidently. “It is a thing I have craved for some time, if you will consent.”

“What is it?” the Scout asked, his arm draped loosely around the Medic’s waist.

“I wish to kneel on the ground, with you three standing around me,” the Medic began, as crisply as a general planning a manoeuvre. “I will be able to pleasure two with my hands and one with my mouth, switching occasionally to take on all of you equally.” He leaned against the Scout and reached out to caress the Spy’s shoulder and the Demoman’s chest. “There will be no need to argue about who gets the first chance.”

“Kinky,” the Scout grinned. “I like it.” He kissed the Medic deeply.

“You are becoming an erotic artist,” the Spy agreed. The Demoman didn’t say anything, but kissed the Medic hungrily as soon as the older man’s lips parted from the Scout’s. The young runner kissed the Scotsman’s bearded cheek for good measure.

The Medic slid to his knees, caressing the bodies of his jailers, his friends, as he did so. The men opened their flies and exposed themselves to him- the Scout was already fully erect, while his older teammates were merely swelling with interest. The Medic looked up tenderly at the Demoman and took his soft, dark member into his mouth. The explosive expert’s mouth dropped open with pleasure, and he placed a gentle hand on the top of the German’s head. Sliding his hands up the others’ thighs, the Medic took the Scout in his left hand and the Spy in his right to stroke them.

After that, the prisoner allowed himself to get lost in a warm, quiet world of touch and taste. The other men stroked his hair, pressed their erections against his lips, his cheek, the soft hair at the back of his neck- anywhere they could reach. No man, he thought, has ever felt as save and loved as I, encircled by, in service to, three guardian angels.

His own arousal was a solid ache. While he was alive, he had imagined such things- craved them, and prayed for the strength to resist them. He had failed, occasionally, given in to his need and touched his own body while thinking of kissing his Captain, of seeing a burly orderly naked. Afterward, he had always felt such guilt, felt as though he was sinking toward damnation. If only I had known, he thought, as he sucked first the Spy, then his beloved Scout. I denied love, I resisted the divine plan for my life- he kissed the head of the Scout’s cock- and participated instead in the violence that sent me to Hell. But Heaven is merciful- he moved his mouth from the Scout to the Demoman again, slicking his fingers with his own saliva on the Spy’s cock- Hell is not eternal, even for a vampire such as I. There is a place for everything in Creation, and my place is here, feeding on the freely-given essence of the angels.

The Medic’s meditation was cut short when he turned to face the Scout again. Instead of pushing his cock immediately into the Medic’s mouth, the young man did a sort of awkward dance, toeing off his shoes and socks.

“Hey, Doc,” he grinned. “I can see where you’re pretty hard up. Pull it out.”

Confused but willing, the Medic left off stroking the other two for just long enough to unbutton his pyjama fly and revealed his erection.

“C’mon, suck me, lemme see if I can do this.” The Medic obeyed his lover, taking the Scout’s cock in his mouth and resuming his caresses upon the other two. Steadying himself on the Medic’s shoulder with one hand, the Scout slid one foot up along the older man’s thigh, caressing his erection with his naked toes.

The Medic gasped around the Scout’s cock, his grip tightening on the Demoman and the Spy. The Demoman laughed at the shock on the Medic’s face and caressed his cheek, while the Scout shot the Spy a cocky smirk.

With his body at the mercy of the Scout’s agile toes, the Medic couldn’t hold back any more. He took his young lover’s cock deep into his mouth, and frantically stroked the other two. The Demoman pressed his erection against the Medic’s cheek, while the Spy did him one better and pushed his erection into the Medic’s mouth beside the Scout’s. Taken by surprise, the Scout put both feet on the floor and came, filling the Medic’s mouth with precious, bitter salt. The Spy groaned with lust and followed suit, his semen coating the Scout’s cock and dribbling onto the Medic’s lips while the Demoman came on their servant’s face and hair.

“Man, Doc, that was amazing,” the Scout smiled down at him. As soon as he was stable again, the Scout lifted his foot and took the Medic’s straining erection in the notch between his big toe and the others.

Overcome with pleasure, the Medic screamed. It was long and loud, from the very bottom of his sou. His seed washed over the Scout’s bare feet, and the young man bent down to kiss the top of his head.

“What’s going on in- JAYsus Christ!” The Sniper burst in the unlocked door, kukri at the ready, but stopped short as he took in the scene. “What’re you doing to him?” he gagged, nearly dropping his weapon.

“Just having some fun,” the Scout stood up sharply, tucking his cock away. “Get lost.”

“That’s disgusting.” The Sniper’s face was a mask of horror.

“Now, monsieur,” the Spy had already done up his fly and was lighting a cigarette. “Do not be so judgemental. I am sure you will like it, if you ask him politely to give you a turn.”

“Shut it, Spook,” the Sniper glared. “You can’t treat prisoners like this. There are standards.” He looked down at the kneeling man, covered in his jailers’ ejaculate.

“Calm doon,” the Demoman offered. “It’s all reet.”

“No, no it’s not,” the Sniper backed out of the room. “I’m telling the Medic and the Engineer right away- their sick little experiment has got to end. This isn’t right.”

The door slammed, but the RED Medic was already wailing. He clung to the Scout’s legs, begging his guardian to protect him, not to let the enemy doctor send him back to the hospital, to the camps, to Hell. The Scout tried to comfort him, the Spy wiped his face with his handkerchief, and the Demoman offered him a drink to soothe his nerves, but they could not quiet his wrenching, terrified screams.

aw jeez moar

Wow. Cowering psycho Medic is such a woobie. Please, sir, can I have some MOAR?

Sniper, are you the hero of this mad, mad tale?

I eagerly anticipate the next chapter. Somehow I don't think Sniper will be too hard to convince that the situation is not what it appears.

I kind of adore Medic's relationship with Scout in this. Even if he is a bit of a bonehead, I think growing up in a large family would make Scout a little more emotionally aware and it comes across that way when he interacts with Medic. It's sweet.

Also, hopefully hardcore sex soon?

89 Fuck, I wrote a woobie. Sorry about that.

90 I don't really "do" heroes. However, (for my fellow D&D geeks), Sniper is the only lawful-good aligned character in this tale. (And yeah, I know you don't usually get lawful-good snipers, but why do you think our boy signed up for an outfit where nobody stays dead?)

91 What, bukkake isn't hardcore enough for you? Jeez. You might wanna warn any potential partners, son. Seriously, though, I don't know if this story is trending toward ass sex at all.

>>92

Oh no no, no apologies, Marty! It's heart-achingly, terrifyingly, wonderful. Pure genius. I absolutely can't wait until the next chapter.

Oh, wow, this is still amazing. I love Responsible Citizen Sniper - although, wouldn't he be the one who caught RED Medic soul-kissing BLU Heavy before, when this all started?

Why is this all the way down here? Bumping.

95 I hate you forever.

>>96
Agreed, but you've effectively done the exact same thing. Seriously, if you're going to express your frustration at someone who made you think there was an update, at least sage your post so you don't do the same to someone else.

This is so hot. I really like and enjoy it. I love this take on Medic and am curious about how others would react(especially the other Medic to the report from Sniper). I also like Medic's psyche with redemption and angels and all.
I don't have anything really new to say; I'm just demonstrating how much I like this fic.

Anyone enjoying this story can thank Ze Doktor, who prodded me mercilessly to type and post. At least 2 more chapters on the way.
--------------------------------------
PART 11

“Scout,” the BLU Medic’s face was gray with worry, “Sniper tells me that you have been- assaulting the prisoner.”

“Jeez, ya make it sound like I been beatin’ him over the head.” The young man looked down at the table.

“You have been taking advantage of a helpless person. It is worse.”

“Yeah?” The Scout snapped, his eyes meeting the Medic’s. “Well at least I’m not the one who left him locked alone in a room with a bare mattress all crusted up with blood.”

“So you are the one who gave him the sheets?”

“Yeah! And look, he didn’t try to kill himself, or anyone else.”

“He did kill you.”

“Yeah, only ‘cause I wanted to see if I’d come out a vampire. He didn’t even want to.”

“DIdn’t want to?” Of all the news the Medic had heard in the past hour, this was the most baffling.

“He didn’t really wanna hurt me. He’s tired of blood and dying and fighting. All he really wants to do is roll around and give head. He’s a fag, and crazy as a shit-house rat, but... he’s not bad.”

“We are not discussing whether he is ‘bad.’ We are discussing the mistreatment of a prisoner, and what to do about it.”

“Look, report me, shit-can me, whatever, just... you can’t put him back out there.”

“Do not let your self-serving desires interfere with another man’s freedom,” the Medic said sharply.

“Just talk to him,” the Scout snarled. “You’ll see.”

The BLU Medic was willing to do that, at least. He felt that he owed it to his patient, his prisoner. However, the insane RED refused to cooperate. No sooner had the BLU stepped into the room than the other man’s expression of pleasant expectation collapsed into a mask of horror.

The madman flattened himself against the wall, alternately pleading and cursing.

<<Sir, calm yourself,>> the BLU began in their native tongue. <<I wish only to ask you some questions.>>

<<I will tell you nothing.>> The RED spat at his feet. <<I have done nothing wrong.>>

<<I know, I know,>> the BLU tried to soothe him. <<Others have done things to you, I understand. It is about this that I wish to talk.>>

<<Never! I will not inform on anyone! I will not make that mistake again.>> The RED was shaking, his knees wobbling underneath him, but his jaw was set.

<<Again?>> The BLU felt as though a cold stone had dropped into his stomach. <<Sir, do I know you?>>

<<No, but I know you, all ice and cures.>> The RED’s voice was rising. <<You would cure me of love to send me to war, cure me of Heaven to send me to Hell!>> He was shrieking when the BLU Engineer stepped in.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hoss,” he murmured at the RED. “Doc,” he shot a gaze at the BLU Medic. “Scout said I’d find you in here. What-all is going on?”

“The same thing zat alvays ‘goes on’ vhen I attempt to interview ze patient,” the BLU’s accent was thick as he switched languages. “He becomes hysterical und I learn nossing.”

“He seems to be settlin’ a bit now,” the Engineer noted.

<<What is wrong with you?>> the BLU Medic mused, only to see the RED freeze up again at once.

“Doc,” the Engineer murmured, “I think it spooks him when you speak German.” He looked at their patient. “Mister, you like it better when we talk English?”

The erstwhile RED nodded mutely.

“What are you afraid of?” The BLU Medic’s voice betrayed some fear of his own.

“I fear the ice of Hell, the eiswasserbad, die elektrokrampftherapie.”

“Were you in a camp?” the BLU Medic’s face was drawn.

“Nein. I went to hospital, instead. Für der Schwulen.”

The BLU Medic’s head drooped. The Engineer waited a tactful moment before putting a hand on his teammate’s shoulder. “Well, now we know why he doesn’t care for German-speaking doctors. It ain’t your fault.”

“It might as well be,” the BLU said. “Sir,” he addressed the RED, “I am-” his voice hitched. “I am profoundly sorry for your pain. I cannot in good conscience keep you prisoner here any more.” The Engineer knew his Medic as a man of iron will, and was shocked to see tears on his cheeks.

“But, I do not want to go.” The RED Medic reached out and took the BLU’s hand.

Yah for more! I was so afraid this had withered away. And two more chapters in the works! It's not Christmas so it must be my birthday.

Many thanks to Ze Doctor for poking Marty...

I know that sounded wrong, but it feels so right.