Now I'm curious how Heavy will react to /that/.
Oh doctor.

And Medic's accent makes me smile. But yep, it might be a little too thick. I'm from Austria myself and don't think anyone who regularly speaks English would talk like that. Aside from that, I spotted a few minor German grammar mistakes, but nothing too much.
Ahh, please go on. I need more sad-but-adorable HeavyMedic in my life.

>>11

Makes ya wonder, yeah? What with people dying all of the time elsewhere...

>>10
>>12

Ah, I was worried about that. I'm pretty much going off of how Robin Atkin Downes voices Medic, which has a bit of an absurd accent and, from what I've heard, terrible German grammar. If you've got some tips, I'd be happy to adjust it.

Terrible German grammar indeed. It's funny how they apparently really didn't think of getting someone with a decent understanding of the language for it. Oh well, still fun to listen to.

You could take out a few of the German words (I don't think he'd forget simple words like 'a' or something. Nouns are more likely, maybe adjectives. And when he starts swearing, of course) and leave the -ing as it is, not with a k. It's something that confused me every time it turned up; after all, if you read, the most important letters in a word are the first and last ones.
If you'd like, I could proof read the German stuff, but since it's only me and maybe one, two others who'd actually understand it, it might not matter much anyway.

>>14

I wouldn't mind having something proofread, even if it's just for a small audience. I'd rather have a polished piece than a piece that makes someone flinch every now and then when something jumps out, especially since Medic's gonna be taking on a larger role later on when shit starts hitting the fan.

I may be in the minority, but I do enjoy at least some level of accent for Medic - makes it slightly mentally chewier, if that makes any sense. Makes me slow down a little and actually hear it in Downes' voice, which I thoroughly enjoy.

So Germany doesn't just have plants which turn out highly-engineered luxury cars, it also has plants which turn out highly-strung, temperamental Medics. Can somebody get me BLU's contact information? I'd like to look into financing.

I don't even mind that they only come in two stock colors.

> 14 I believe Valve's poor German grammar is intentional. Every person in TF2 is a caricature so they're not going for accuracy, they're playing every character for laughs.

>>17
Didn't think of it that way, you're right. I feel slightly stupid now. Anyway, they're doing an awesome job with that.

Also, author-anon, I've written you a mail; wouldn't want to spam on here.

The image of Heavy brooding you built up with the plodding and the bloodshot eyes and the glaring at everyone is great. Ha ha, I wonder if Spy's going to try something else?

Well, here's the next chapter. Thanks for the input, guys, and props to Felice for beta-ing!

Just as an FYI in case anyone's getting confused: 'medic' would be the class, ie, RED's medic, while 'Medic' would be BLU medic's 'name'.


______________________




There were no words. Heavy's mouth hung open, his expression full of jumbled, confused emotion. Medic's certainty that each team knew of the clones rapidly deteriorated, nervously backing away from the larger man. That simple motion knocked Heavy out of his stupor, his jaw clenching as he stared down at the new medic. In one horrifying moment of clarity, Medic heard the faint squeak of the Russian's gloves as his hands curled into fists. Then the beating started.

It was no small comfort when Respawn picked him up, as Heavy had run over to greet him at the door. The fact that he hadn't died like the old medic had only served to enrage the heavy further, the next pummeling far more brutal. By the seventh time that Medic had come back, Heavy was sobbing with each punch. Medic didn't even try to run! He simply stood there, stoic, waiting for each new death to come to him. Once Medic had Respawned for the ninth time, Heavy couldn't do it anymore. He fell to his knees, one massive hand splayed on the blood-soaked floor, the other clutching Medic's vest tightly.

Eventually, the blood simply disappeared, but the duo did not. Medic finally patted him on the head. "I did not know zat your team vas unavare of zis, Kamerad. I am...sorry." How the medic could speak so calmly, after what he'd done, Heavy didn't know. He rose to his feet again, mortified by his actions. Violence could easily be explained away, but crying? What kind of killer cried?

"You speak of dis to no one."

"Jawohl."

Heavy wandered away, leaving Medic to slump down on one of the benches. The medic was at a loss for what to do. What did the rest of the team think? Was that why the spy had been so desperate to pry for information? Why they avoided speaking to him? Did they think this was a conspiracy? Why didn't they know? That question pressed the hardest in Medic's mind, quickly dominating the other thoughts in his head. Keeping eight mercenaries in the dark about clones, then dumping one on them without even explaining it, wasn't logical. Unless...unless they hadn't been expecting to lose this medic.

It bothered him more that BLU had given him personal items. Memories that weren't really his, immortalized in photographs and writing. They had looked like original copies, too. Had this been the original Medic? Why, then, did they insist on giving him these things? He rose to his feet, grimacing. Whatever reason they had, he didn't like it. Smoothing out his clothing, he left Respawn, only to bump into Spy.

"Herr Spy." The spy smirked at him, that unsettling smirk reserved only for conniving men with impure intentions. Medic repressed a shudder. It would take more than creepy looks to make him squirm.

"I over'eard your fantastic conversation wizh zhe morbidly obese piggy." His eyes narrowed. If Spy intended to try and deliver a similar beating, Medic would fight back. The man was scrawnier than him, his lungs a cancerous mass. There was no shame in accepting defeat by Heavy's hands, but allowing Spy such a victory would be a shame to great to bear.

"Und vat is ze point to zis conversation, Herr Spy?"

"Curiosity, mon ami. Why allow zhat man to do somezhing so vile to you? 'e is a dizgusting man, using 'is strengzh to subdue zhose zhat are weaker zhan 'im. 'e did zhe same to zhe last docteur, you know." Now Medic was inching away, the spy following him. "Zhe docteur and I were...incredibly close. Since you are a clone, I zhink you understand what I mean. Zhe fat man was quite...dizgusted by our relationship. 'e found such zhings...vile." Spy walked past him, started circling. Predatory. Medic never let his eyes off of the backstabber.

"But...zhe longer zhat 'e zhought on it, zhe more zhat 'e decided any release was better zhan none. You refused, at first. Loyal, loving, zhat was what you were underneazh zhat cold exterior. 'e grew angry, and began to beat you down. I stood no match against 'im, but 'e only ever focused on you. Eventually, you submitted, becoming a means of release for 'im." Medic kept his face impassive, hiding the disgust. With a spy, it was hard to tell what was true and what wasn't...but there was at least a kernel of truth in this. Somewhere.

Spy was circling closer now, his suit occasionally brushing against Medic's coat. "Docteur. If you allow 'im to beat you down as well, 'e will force you to submit. To be a 'arlot. Do you want zhat?" The medic remained silent, pushing him away. Spy simply chuckled, pulling out a cigarette. It wouldn't be hard to lure this new medic in, he decided. The heavy was already doing most of the work for him, and the rest of the team hardly spoke a word to him. Eventually, Medic would have to relent. Loneliness can break through reason, if given enough time to fester. Even as the medic fled back into his office, Spy knew this had been a victory.


______________________


"Hold on, hold the fucking phone. Clone fagass Nazi said he was a clone?" In retrospect, maybe Heavy should have avoided telling the team at all about the situation, instead of simply hiding the fact that he'd cried. Now the team appeared even more frazzled.

"I knew it! Germany is churning out Nazi clones so they can start the war all over again!"

"If I was clonin' a bloody army, I wouldn' be makin' et oot of nurses!"

"Mmmrmany wldnt..."

"Bloody hell..."

"Fellas, hold on." Engineer calmed them down, although he looked just as queasy as the rest of them. The kitchen had almost turned into a war room of sorts; it seemed as though every conversation about the new medic took place there. "If I recall, BLU ain't never asked me if'n they could clone me. Aside from our doc, ain't no one taken a blood sample neither." He was just trying to calm them down. In reality, he knew that the blood sample had been shipped to BLU so that he could be hooked into the Respawn system. For all he knew there could be dozens of little engies running around, moving gear up.

The engineer lifted his hard hat to rub his head, grimacing. "Mighty big puzzle, though. Why wouldn't they just go an' tell us they was bringin' up a clone? Don't make a lick a sense to hide it." Then again, not much of what BLU did made sense. If the point was to beat RED, why did they always fight over the same land? Why not outright destroy RED's base on victory? Even when they had once pushed a payload bomb at Badwater, the damage had been undone the very next day. Thinking about it at a broader scale hurt Engineer's head. That alone was reason enough for him to drop it. All of his knowledge from years of college couldn't cobble together a satisfactory reason for all of this.

"Wot did 'e say th'other day? 'bout us not havin' t'fret 'bout th'docs sometoimes lookin' aloike? 'e was lyin' to us, mates. Knew roight then and there 'e was a clone, but 'e acted loike 'e wasn't." That got them thinking even more. Heavy, for whatever reason, felt guilty. The new medic might have been trying to explain things, might have been opening up to him. Instead, he'd bludgeoned the poor man for nearly half an hour. No, best not to think of him as a man. He was a clone. Clones weren't people. They were expendable, like bullets. Write-offs on the monthly costs for a base.

He felt ill just thinking that.

Heavy left them to the challenge of trying to unravel this, choosing instead to speak directly to the source of all of this. If the new medic had trusted him enough to tell him that, then maybe he would be receptive to explaining this.

This time, he did not knock, stepping into the office as boldly as he used to. Medic looked up from his papers, his irritation freezing on his face as soon as he realized who it was. Heavy shut the door behind him, locking it. Still nothing was said. Medic idly thought of what Spy had warned him about, his grip on the ballpoint pen tightening. He blinked when the heavy pulled up a chair, awkwardly seating himself. Heavy had to hunch over to be at Medic's eye level, pressing a hand to the desk.

"Why say doktors sometimes look same?" The medic swallowed thickly, setting his papers aside. He twirled the pen in his hand before letting it fall on the desk. "Ze clonink process is not alvays perfect. Usually ve look different enough zat ze team does not mind. I understand zat zis time it vas not ze case."

The heavy studied his face, looking for any sort of proof that this was a lie. "Do you...know why BLU was not telling of dis to us?" Medic shook his head, cringing. "Nein. Zey have never kept a team in ze dark before, und zey have never given one of us such...zings." He waved at the desk clutter, of pictures of a family he'd never personally known.

"Why...do they have many doktor clones?" That was the sort of question Medic had expected would come next. He leaned back, sighing. "Vell, ze original doctor vas not in bester health. Pancreatic cancer, if I remember correctly. In a stroke of genius, he vorked vith BLU und zeir Respawn system to find a solution. Ze solution ended up beink to create clones of himself. Ze first clone vas to replace his pancreas, I zink, but zat vas just a temporary solution. Zat vas...nearly a decade ago, I zink." Heavy processed this slowly, brow furrowing. This medic looked nearly ten years younger. His team had never heard of clones. And Medic had always been experimenting and testing, especially in regards to pain management.

"Do you think dat our doktor...was real doktor?" The medic cringed. How did he respond to that? The evidence seemed staggering, though. Had the original requested to be replaced with a clone? Or had BLU just decided that it would take too much effort to hire a new medic on the fly? "I...zink so. It seems zat vay, anyvay." The two sat in silence for several minutes, just letting the gravity of the situation hang around them.

Just when Medic was about to ask if the heavy would like to play chess, Heavy rose to his feet. "Thank you, doktor." Heavy left in a hurry. Medic shook his head. Now that he'd thought about it, didn't RED have a medic too? A medic with a very similar appearance to his own? Had RED stolen the data to clone their own medics? That was a disturbing thought.

...Come to think of it, the RED team had looked eerily similar to his BLU team. Why had they never noticed this? He'd only seen RED for one battle, yet he'd picked up on it almost immediately. Asking a RED about this would be out of the question. Capturing one, on the other hand, was quite viable. If he could find a way over to their base, he could use a tranquilizer. Probably someone light. Someone that he could easily carry.

The enemy scout would do nicely.

For all he knew there could be dozens of little engies running around, moving gear up.
I chuckled at this. Man, your story is branching into a intricate mystery filled with theories and trying to conclude what's happening, and that's enough to keep me coming back for more. What's more interesting is how well you make that dastardly spy so slimy. Also, I had no idea he was the original medic, though the subtle hints of the younger clone got me thinking. I do feel bad for heavy though, at least medic is baring the trauma heavy is going through.

And the plot thickens.

Glad to see constant stream of updates.

Holy crap. I once made a request somewhere in the request threads littered on this board about a clone story where Heavy would not be sure how to take the idea of a clone replacing Medic, or how they are the same and aren't and whatnot.

To see something that close and very well-written with interesting plot makes me very, very happy. Kudos!

Oh Spy, you little bitch.

I felt bad when I chuckled from Heavy beating Medic to death...seven times. That's just so much aggression!

That Spy is a scumbag. I would hope that Medic knows better than to fall for his nonsense. Please, please tell me that Medic will not really believe Spy. Heavy, at least, seems so sincere, and his actions, even though they were to beat Medic to death repeatedly, were far stronger and definitely spoke of someone who'd suffered a real loss. If Spy had really been in a relationship with the old Medic, wouldn't he be less slimy and more grieving, like Heavy? he's a smart man. He should be able to put two and two together really easily. Just saying.

>>23 Glad to have accidentally filled your request somewhat!

>>25 I had to think about it; he's basically got no way to vent all of his sorrow about losing his lover. Aside from Spy, everyone else assumes Heavy and Medic were just best friends. A great enough loss, but he still can't properly express himself. Something's gotta break eventually, and having someone who looks exactly like your dead lover speak rather matter-of-factly about your dead lover is enough to make anyone lose it, methinks. It is kinda funny, though.

>>26 Medic is no idiot, although the team is certainly isolating him.

Anyway, enjoy some surgery.


______________________




The trick to capturing a scout was not speed; scouts were quick prey, too quick for even the agile movements of a medic. Nor could one use surprise, for scouts were jumpy. Startling a scout was the quickest way to get a scattergun blast to the chest, friendly or not. Sneaking about would only be effective if the scout was asleep, but Medic couldn't possibly risk going to the enemy base at night. If he was captured, what then? His team was demonstrating a callous disregard for his life.

Not that he could blame them.

If this was indeed the original team, the team that had never once encountered a clone, then they would undoubtedly look upon a clone as an expendable object. Normally he would not disagree, but in this case it seemed he was meant to replace the original. Didn't that make him more valuable? Or would BLU send a steady stream of clones their way if something happened to him? It was best not to worry about that. What mattered now was how to obtain the enemy scout.

For this, the doctor turned to medicine. A sedative would slow the scrawny rat down, but choosing the right one was essential. The only logical way that he could tag the scout with a sedative was with his syringe gun. This ruled out barbiturates immediately; an overdose of any one of them strong enough to sedate the RED would just send him through Respawn. Benzodiazepine was an attractive option; an overdose of that would only carry a minor risk of killing the scout, otherwise guaranteeing unconsciousness.

The medic wandered into the operating theatre, idly shifting through the various chemicals. Diazepam. Quite a bit of it, from the looks of it. He arched an eyebrow at the half empty vial at the end. Had the old medic used it? On who? For what purpose? He hadn't seen any evidence of it in the records. Shaking his head, Medic pulled out his syringe gun and started replacing the syringes within. All that he needed now was a solid plan; simply gunning down the scout wouldn't work. He needed to ensure that no one else would find the body. A BLU might try to kill him to heighten their own stats to be sent back to Headquarters. A RED would try to save their fallen ally. These were things that would be solved on the battlefield, he decided.


______________________



"Doktor!" Medic jumped at the booming voice, looking over at Heavy. Setup was nearly complete, the doctor having purposefully strayed away from healing Heavy. After all, he'd been threatened for trying before and the man had spent an agonizingly long amount of time killing him. "Medic!" The second shout was a bit more clear. It wasn't the enemy spy playing a trick. Heavy smiled, an emotionless, weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Come along now, doktor."

This was monumentous. Medic nearly dropped his medigun before focusing it on the heavy, nodding sternly. Once the gates opened, they charged in. RED's medic fell to an embarrassingly awkward backstab, their pyro charging after Spy as he cackled and snorted. Without fear of a counter-Uber, Medic popped his own Uber on Heavy, the duo laughing as the enemy team crumpled.

As they advanced to the next point, the RED spy took out Medic, his dying cry enough to alert Heavy. This proved to be the chance Medic had needed. While his team pressed forward, the RED scout attempted to sneak past BLU to capture Mid. Medic had just entered the neutral building when the enemy scout spotted him. Immediately, the scout opened fire, leaping off of the ramp and over an oncoming train. Medic took the shot to his shoulder, hissing as he pulled out his syringe gun. The first volley missed entirely, Medic mentally cringing at that. His aim needed serious work.

The second volley hit. After that, it was a matter of endurance. Once the medic saw the telltale signs of the sedative kicking in, he retreated for the medkit nearby. The scout pulled out his bat, chasing after Medic with increasingly heavier steps. As Medic sat down to begin applying bandages to himself, the enemy fell, his head resting on the medic's knee.

"Wh...whaddafuck..." "Ssshhh...don't vorry, you von't even feel zis procedure..." With the scout unconscious, Medic waited for the next train to fly by before hoisting the body up to take to a good hiding spot.

At that instant, the announcer loudly proclaimed their victory. Cursing, the medic started running back to base as fast as he could. If his team spotted a living RED during humiliation, they'd blast him to pieces. Thankfully the only person that could catch up to him was their own scout, and he was too busy running mockingly around the RED heavy, eating the sandvich that the enemy had dropped for his own medic in hopes of them outlasting humiliation. No such luck.

As the rest of BLU headed back to base, Heavy frantically scoured the battlefield. Ever since Medic had been backstabbed, he hadn't seen the man. Panic gripped him, worrying that somehow they'd lost the clone as well. Maybe it was the thought of once more watching those foul men take away Medic's body, or maybe it was the thought of seeing the doctor truly dead. Whatever the reason, Heavy did not want to lose this medic. Even if it was a fake one.

He didn't slog back to base until nightfall, terror gripping him. Maybe he'd somehow missed the medic? On occasion, the old medic had been known to grab his bonesaw and leave them all behind once his patience had run thin. But Heavy had been so certain that they'd done well. Better than old medic ever had, much to his distress. New medic had been quicker on his feet in the battle, had shouted out a warning fast enough to save Heavy at the cost of his own life. Had that not been enough?

Heavy avoided the team; he could hear them once more conspiring in the kitchen. He grew less and less interested in hearing such theories about the cloned man. As he advanced to the medic's office, however, sounds from within the operating theatre drew his attention. Sounds that sounded an awful lot like Scout. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Was the clone torturing Scout?

Stepping in, Heavy found himself baffled at first, that initial shock quickly melting into horror at what lay on the operating table.

Medic was facing away, studying what appeared to be an entire kidney while muttering in German. "P-please doc...lemme go..." The medic's head lifted slightly before chuckling and resuming his work. "Is zis not interestink, junge?" Heavy couldn't move from the spot.

The RED scout's shirt had been cut open, the frayed edges dangling just under the operating table. His fingers occasionally twitched, eyes wide, hat and headset carelessly tossed aside. There were tiny red marks dotting his arm, remnants of when he'd been sedated.

But these were tiny details.

What held Heavy's full attention was the exposed organs. Medic had apparently performed an autopsy on the still-living man, having made a neat, Y-shaped incision before using his bonesaw to saw through the enemy scout's ribs. Apparently this had all been done with haste; the scout's Ubergear lay on a nearby tray, a BLU-issued Ubergear having immediately replaced it. Medic's operating medigun was trained on the enemy, keeping him alive despite the removal of his entire chest plate.

Each nervous, shallow breath could be observed from the expansion and contraction of the lungs, the heart beating sluggishly due to the drugs pumping through the RED's veins.

"Isn't it wunderbar?" Heavy jumped, eyes wrenching away from the morbid sight to look at Medic. The doctor was grinning wickedly at him, his forearms soaked in blood. "Zis medigun makes me into a Gott, Herr Heafy. Und vat vondaful zinks I have learned!" The scout whimpered weakly as Medic cackled, motioning for Heavy to draw closer. As much as he wanted to flee, curiosity won.

"All of mein tests show zat zis scout is not a clone. Zat eizzer means zat Scout is a clone, or zat zere are two men zat look ze exact same, born in ze same hometown, vith ze same skills, fightink on opposite sides of zis var." Heavy blinked, looking back at the RED scout. Now that he thought about it, he did look eerily similar to Scout.

"What is meaning of dis, doktor?" The medic chuckled lowly, stroking the kidney before returning to reinsert it into the scout. "It means zat BLU cloned us from RED. Vy zey vould do zat, I don't know." Heavy felt his blood run cold. They were all clones? "Is not possible. I wrote to family last month!" Medic thought about this, humming to himself. "Vell, ve vould need to examine ze enemy heafy, zen. It could be zat some of us vere cloned, und some of zem vere cloned." He lifted up the dogtags that he'd removed from the scout's neck prior to the surgery. "One zink is certain, zough: our scout's dogtags do not have names on zem. Zis one does."

Chilling. Guess that was a stroke of good luck though, huh?

This is nuts. Amazing, and nuts. Also deeply disturbing, and that's ME saying so. I crave more. I note that this is in /afic; I really wonder if/when/how it will shake down that Heavy takes this resurrected mockery of his lover to bed.

>>29

Good lord, I made TeratoMarty call something deeply disturbing? I'll go on ahead and check that off my bucket list...

And yes, it is eventually going down that road...sanity will be kindly left at the door once it reaches that point, mind you. I pretty much sat down and decided I wanted to write a Heavy/Medic afanfic, I wanted doppelgangers to be involved, and I wanted that relationship to be horribly twisted in a way that made the readers squirm. Physically twisted sex lives have been done to death; I want this Heavy broken mentally.

...I think that makes me a terrible person.

>>30

Aw MAN... And here I was hoping this situation was going to get better/happier/less tragic.

Le sigh. My hopeless romantic gene is foiled again. :(

Still gonna read though. This is too good not to.

>>31

Now, now; I said it'd be mentally disturbed. No one said a twisted romance can't also have a happy-ish ending.

> 30 "I want this Heavy broken mentally"
Bring it! I'm actually really excited for this fic. Keep it up pretty please.

I need more of this story. It's beyond twisted. Although a broken Heavy makes me sad, I'm fairly confident it will be worth it. Keep up the great work!

UN-BETA'D CHAPTER AHEAD.

I felt kinda guilty not posting today, and by the time I finished the chapter my beta was sleeping. So, I'm going to post this one un-beta'd.




______________________




Disposing of the scout was an entirely different problem. He'd damaged the RED Ubergear while removing it, making it questionable at best if it would still work. Asking Engineer to fix it was out of the question. If the scout died with a BLU Ubergear in him, Headquarters would know. Would it Respawn him? If it did, it would be through BLU's system. Killing him was certainly an option, but one that carried a sort of weight that Medic didn't want to think about. This was the original, the actual young man from Boston.

But what about Scout? When his contract expired, what would BLU do? Kill him? Try to kill RED's scout?

In the end, Medic turned the dial of his operating medigun up and healed the scout, keeping him strapped down to the table. The scout spat venomous insults at a mile a minute, determined to never shut up. Medic learned to tune it out.

All the while, Heavy sat in his office, waiting for Medic to come out. Once he did, he sighed and sank down into his chair. "Zis is a nightmare, Herr Heafy." The heavy grunted in agreement. "Vy BLU vould tell me zat I vas a clone, but not tell Scout, is beyond me." Heavy didn't like this. None of it. He almost wished he'd never known. The duo sat in silence, processing this information.

"Vichever team von, I zink zey vould replace ze losers. So if RED von ze var, zeir Heafy vould replace you." Heavy roared, slamming his fist down. "нет! Family would know dis was not me!" Medic shrank back, adjusting his glasses with a huff. "Maybe zey vould. From how BLU acted vith replacink ze original doctor, it seems zat zey don't care if it is convincink or not. If BLU is like RED, anyvay." Heavy shook his head. "BLU is better dan dese RED babies." He didn't sound so sure of that, though.

Eventually Heavy left to eat, Medic doggedly refusing to cease his research for even one meal.

The kitchen was blessedly devoid of life, although Heavy was still miffed that they had apparently failed to notice Medic's absence after his death on the battlefield. Had they truly decided that a clone was not worth caring about? He wondered how they would react to knowing that Scout was a clone. In fact, as he ate some of the stew left on the stovetop, he couldn't help but wonder who else on the team was an unsuspecting clone. Would they need to capture all of RED to find out? He was most unnerved by his own counterpart. He'd been killing himself five days a week, relishing every successful murder. Oddly poetic, really.

"I wonder what zhe old docteur would say about zhis, fat man." Heavy dropped his spoon, glaring at Spy. The spy had slithered into the room at some point, smirking at him. "Do not talk about doktor." Spy laughed. "Ah, non, of course not! Wouldn't want zhe dead to know zhat zhey 'ave been replaced by a clone. I saw 'ow concerned you were. Falling for zhe doppelganger, are you?" Heavy shot to his feet, snarling as he raised his fists. "Dis is not true!"

The spy sneered at him, taking a small step back. "Zhen stop flirting wizh zhe docteur, you fat imbecile! You are leading zhat clone on into zhinking zhat 'e 'as a chance wizh you. Is zhat what you want? To make zhe fake docteur cry?" The heavy was shaking, barely containing his rage. Spy started laughing raucously. "You are pazhetic fat man, truly pazhetic!"

"Being mean to new doktor won't bring doktor back! I am doing what doktor would want: moving on!" This only seemed to make the spy laugh even harder, slapping his bony knee. "Clearly zhe docteur would want you to go flirting wizh a younger clone of 'im when 'e died! Replacing 'im so easily wizh a more 'andsome version of 'imself!" Heavy roared at this, charging around the table to pummel Spy. Still the spy cackled, snorting as he leaped away from the slower man.

"What's all the commotion out here?" Spy stopped laughing rather abruptly when Engineer waltzed in, eyes narrowing. "Nozhing important, laborer. Now, if you will excuse me." He adjusted his tie and made a hasty exit, prompting the engineer to glare after his retreating form before patting Heavy on the back. "Calm down, big fella, he's just lookin' to get a rise outta ya." Spy was lucky that Heavy had no desire to chase him down; he could only tolerate so much of the spy's insults in a day.

______________________


The next day of fighting had Heavy and Medic fighting even more in sync than before. The heavy's joviality had returned, laughing wildly with every killing spree. Medic barked out orders quicker, and Heavy eagerly obeyed each command. As the week progressed, the well-oiled machine of teamwork pressed forward. BLU's victories outweighed their losses, especially with RED down a member.

It wasn't until Thursday that RED did something about it.

As usual, BLU pushed forward, Heavy and Medic leading the charge. Heavy stopped to give Medic a sandwich, grinning widely as the rest of BLU ran into the RED warehouse. As soon as he turned around, the RED spy stabbed him in the back. Outraged, Medic pulled out his syringe gun and started firing. The spy darted across the bridge, back toward Mid. As soon as Medic's boots touched the bridge, a gloved hand yanked him into the water. He kicked and fought against the RED medic, only to slump as a needle sank into his side.

The RED medic surfaced, grinning at the RED spy. The duo tucked Medic under a train car and resumed the battle. Short two more people, RED lost even faster than normal. This didn't matter. Once humiliation ended, the spy and medic watched with mild amusement as Heavy frantically scoured the battlefield for Medic. As soon as he crossed over to the BLU side of the battlefield, the two REDs charged out, grabbing the barely waking BLU and dragging him into their base. In a moment of clarity, Medic barked out a cry for help, only for his RED counterpart to bring the broad side of his bonesaw crashing down onto Medic's skull.

When he awoke, it was on the RED medic's operating table, heavily restrained.

"Curious, mein heafy. Zat is vat zis is." Groggly, Medic looked over at his counterpart. This medic was only a few years older than him; clearly much younger than the medic he'd replaced at BLU. The heavy looked even younger; without a direct comparison, however, he couldn't be certain. Not from memory alone, when his mind was still foggy from the drugs running through his veins.

"I vas plannink to torture zis scwhein to find vere are scout vas, but...aha, he is avake." The two REDs turned to look at him. Medic had expected sinister grins, an unspoken promise of torture glinting in their eyes. Instead, they looked almost...sad.

The RED medic approached him, cautiously looking back at the heavy. "I was noticing of dis. You are younger dan other doktor. You are new doktor. But you look same. And when my doktor brought you in, you are looking like my doktor too." So the REDs had figured it out as well. The RED medic cleared his throat. "Ja. I checked to see if you vere a clone, und you are. But...not a clone of me. It vould seem zat I am not ze original eizzer."

Medic finally found his voice, looking away. "A...Respawn error allowed for ze original to be killed. BLU sent me in to replace him, und did not zink to tell ze team." The RED medic shuddered, cringing. "Vat happens now, zen? If ve are both clones, vich one of us is to continue ze life zat ve vere both promised after zis?" RED didn't tell this medic that he was a clone?

"If you vere zinkink of killink me, zat vould not be enough. Every battlefield has clones of at least ze BLU medic. I do not know for certain if it is ze same for RED, or if zere are clones of ze ozzer team mates. Dozens of clones, und only one life to live." His counterpart bit his lip, looking at his heavy. Medic watched them for a moment, eyes widening when the heavy approached. Oversized hands rested on his restrained body, the doctor squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation of a sound pummeling.

The restraints slipped from his body as the heavy released him, the two REDs staring at him sadly. "Go back to your heafy. Ve...ve vill study zis." The heavy nodded. Medic was astonished. He slipped off of the operating table, frowning. "I...damaged your scouts Ubergear ven I checked him to see if he vas a clone. I can't send him back." The RED medic nodded.

"Saturday. Bring ze scout to ze neutral building. Ve vill meet und discuss zis zen."

The REDs saw him to Mid, keeping him safe from their team. Medic waved to them, still shaken from the disturbing ordeal, and headed into the BLU base. Almost immediately he encountered a terrified, panicking Heavy. The Russian had ransacked the base, desperate to find Medic. When he saw the smaller man, he pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, barely holding back choked sobs.

"I thought tiny REDs take you, too, doktor." Medic coughed. "Z-zat is fine, Herr Heafy, now, bitte, release me!" Heavy let go of him, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, doktor." Medic grinned, heading towards the medical wing. "But zey did take me. Ve need to talk, Herr Heafy."

What have we learned here?

Open communication between enemy teams is a good thing.

oo I cannot wait for more.

But please. start a new paragragh when dialoge changed between people, please. It makes it MUCH easier to read.

I got confused with who was talking a few times in this.

>>37

Ah, apologies. I'd assumed with the accents it'd be clear who was speaking. Next chapter I'll split it up.

Another fantastic chapter. I cannot wait for more.

Congratulations, my friend. Checking the status of this fic has officially become part of my internet routine. I hope for more updates soon!

Magnificent! I'm very, very enamored with the fic. I literally cannot wait for the next part. I'm ready. Bring it on.

This is great- I love it when authors dig into the implications of the world they're working in, rather than just taking it for granted. I can't wait to see how they come to terms with this.

Also: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMQGI9URBbY

This chapter is split up; the next part still needs to be written, mind you. Spy was unexpectedly more of an asshole than I'd initially wanted him to be, so this chapter got a little too long. Cutting it now for the sake of consistency in length.

>>41

I...am love with that music video. Yes, very much yes.




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It was the little differences that jumped out for Heavy. When the old medic walked with him, they walked in unison. Same leg forward, same instant of boots clapping against concrete. This medic walked out of sync with him, the sound of his own footfalls softer than Heavy's. Medic's shoulders were hunched ever so slightly, his gait jaunty. His more youthful features jumped out with these simple actions. It was as if all of the life and energy that had been sucked out of the old medic had been manifested into this new one.

Medic stepped into the office first, tugging at the latex glove on his hand with his teeth before sitting down. Heavy remained standing, nervously wringing his oversized hands. The doctor had stated he'd been captured by the REDs. Why, then, was he uninjured? He seemed so calm, fingers curling around his tie before loosening it. Medic sighed, combing a hand through his dark hair.

"Zeir doctor zought ze same zink I did. Ze spy helped him to capture me, und ven I voke up, he had checked to see if I vas a clone, und must have learned zat he vas also a clone." Heavy blinked, silently relieved that, at the very least, they had been right. Even if his doctor was dead, at least he had been in love with the real doctor.

"What happens now?" How could they continue to fight? Heavy couldn't imagine this farce continuing. But in reality, they had yet to tell the rest of their team. Sniper had no regard for the life of clones, and Soldier was already a paranoid loon. Scout was a loudmouthed brat that would probably never accept that he was a clone. Engineer might listen to reason, though. Demoman had been supportive, and he of all people would be less likely to judge someone. Pyro, Heavy couldn't be certain of. Spy, though, he knew would cause trouble.

"Vell, ve vill be givink zem back zeir scout, und probably devisink a plan. I vant to talk to our team about zis before ve meet zem, zough." Heavy nodded, determined for this to work. They would figure this out. He needed to do it, for Medic's sake. Whether it was for his deceased lover or this clone, he couldn't be sure. Medic adjusted his glasses, sighing. "I vill explain zis to ze scout. If you vould please take ze initiative und speak vith one of our teammates, bitte?"

"I will talk to Demoman. He is understanding of troubles." Medic arched an eyebrow, nodding. He waited for Heavy to leave before slinking into the operating theatre.


______________________



"Are ye daft, boyo? That medic's a bloody clone, that's all!" Heavy cringed, trying desperately to get Demoman to lower his voice. He'd met the man in the hallway, hoping to coerce him to converse somewhere more private. Instead he'd realized far too late that Demoman was drunk. This meant that the jovial Scot was now yelling at the top of his lungs, attracting the attention of the rest of the team.

Soon, Heavy found himself staring at his team, desperately wishing that he could retreat and ask Medic to explain. "Wot's all this, then?" Sniper looked the most aggravated of the team, heavy bags under his eyes. It looked like he'd been woken up.

"Heavy's off sayin' that they're might be more bloody clones runnin' aboot! He's sayin' Scoot's a bloody clone!" Scout's eyes widened, looking at Heavy as if he'd just been accused of being the Grand Queen at the Fag Parade.

"I am not a faggy ass fag clone, you...you fucking fatty!" Heavy flinched, looking at his team with increased worry. Mob mentality was something he understood. If enough voices rose at the same time, then more would join in.

"I koinda think we'd know if we were clones, mate."

"I can sniff out a clone from a mile away!"

"...Son, I know it's hard to accept that ol' Sawbones is gone." Hearing Engineer speak up against him was a blow to the gut. "If'n y'all start cryin' wolf like this, though, it's gonna tear the team apart. Lord knows we already got problems with a darn doggone clone runnin' around."

"It is not surprising." Heavy glared at Spy. "I see 'im be'aving in...an inappropriate way around zhe docteur. A 'omosexual way." There was an uncomfortable silence.

"...Dnnt thhnnk annynne knnws mmm, mmigo." All eyes were on Pyro, the stocky firebug staring down at his feet. "Thhnnk mm shhllddvv sppkknn sssnnrr. Mmm cllnnd. Rrrll nn kcckd nntt wwwkkks ggo." Astonished, the team found themselves torn between Heavy's possible homosexuality and the possibility that there were more clones than initially thought.

Finally, Engineer cleared his throat, looking incredibly uneasy. "Let's...handle this one hurdle at a time, fellas. You." He pointed an accusing finger at Heavy. "Have got some explainin' to do, pardner. But right now, it's more important that we get to learnin' who all's real and who all ain't real. Y'all got some kinda plan?"

Heavy rubbed the back of his head, wishing desperately that Engineer would lift up his goggles. He wanted to see the emotion behind the voice, he needed to know if Engineer was taking what Spy said to heart. "Doktor captured leetle RED scout. Ran tests. Leetle RED doktor captured Doktor, too. Ran tests. Doktor is saying of us to work with RED."

Soft murmurs of uncertainty.

"RED...dammit. This is all just...too damn much. Alright, fellas. Everyone get some sleep; got a long ass week ahead of us, I conjure. Heavy, take me to new Sawbones. Gonna have some words with him." Heavy nodded, leading Engineer away from the group. He glanced back at Pyro, who was still looking down at his feet.

Heavy had expected Engineer to want to discuss strategy with Medic. He'd expected the Texan to have theories. He had not expected the Texan to charge into Medic's office, hurl his hardhat to the ground, and rip off his goggles.

"What in the hell is this?! We got that doggone Spah tellin' everyone that Heavy is queer! Queer for ya!" Heavy wanted to run away. The look on Medic's face broke his heart. Shock. Horror. So very different from his own doctor, from the surprise followed by immense relief.

"...Und zis is a problem?" Engineer looked even more mortified, Heavy blinking. Of course. Horror at it even being an issue. Not so different after all.

"Of course it is! It just ain't natural! How can y'all be so calm about it!" The medic adjusted his glasses, shaking his head. He didn't speak for a long while, scribbling several notes on his papers. During the silence, Engineer awkwardly picked up his hardhat and fiddled with it.

"Homosexuality is a biological quirk. Just as natural as brown hair. Just as natural as blonde hair. Just as natural as blonde hair und blue eyes." His voice was suddenly sharp, eyes darting up to coldly glare at Engineer. "After ze var, I remember mein mutter tellink me about ze homosexuals beink rounded up. She vas like you, not zinkink about how it vas just somezink zat naturally happens. I remember zinkink it vas...so silly to zink in such a vay. Of course, zese are not mein memories, are zey? Are you here to remind me zat I am not natural?"

Engineer swallowed thickly, staring down at his feet. "It's just...the good lord an' all." Medic rolled his eyes.

"Ja, ja, vat a vondaful Gott, as ve sit here, killink possible clones of ourselves every veek, allowink genocides und vars, zat he vould be so vicious to zose zat are in love. I do take offense to zis assumption zat Herr Heafy is, vat did you say, 'queer' for me? Who told you zis?" Engineer shuffled, glancing apologetically back at Heavy.

"...Spah did." Medic snorted in disdain, staring at one of his gloves.

"Vat a surprise. Ze Spy said zat Herr Heafy vas vicious, und vould beat me to make me obey. But Spy vas sayink zat he vas in a relationship vith ze original Medic." Engineer looked stunned, then scowled.

"How could I be so doggone dumb...I...dammit, fellas, I'm sorry." Medic offered a weary smile. Engineer looked worn thin. He wondered how hard the poor Texan had been working to solve this problem.

"Ve all have our problems. For now, ve need to focus on ze issue of zese clones."

That Spy is a real piece of work. What does he even think he's accomplishing? I'm glad Engineer wasn't completely ridiculous either, despite the rest of the team's reactions.

This clone plot is just sucking me in. I absolutely must know more and patiently await the next glorious part.

I think Spy is biting off more that he can chew.

>>43
>>44

Spy has his reasons; he knows what he's doing, and it's quite sinister.

Anywho, enjoy some panicking medics and clone-think.



______________________




Thoughts were dangerous things if left to their own devices. Medic knew this all too well. His birth had been a horrifying, wonderful abomination against the divine, his body formed in a vat, rapidly accelerating from infancy to the age of thirty-four. Any older, they had explained to him, and his body would deteriorate too quickly. This was as far as they could push the clones before the illusion fell.

Training had been a blur. They had to teach him about a life he'd never had, and how to play his role on the battlefield. If he had no past and an ally befriended him, after all, it could get messy. Of course, most teams were aware of the clones; it was just to humanize the abominations.

But one part of the training had been abundantly clear: He was married. Lilith, one year younger than him, miscarried their one attempt at a child, red hair, green eyes, lithe, a musician. It all sounded rehearsed in his head, but it needed to be. Forgetting something that drastic about a woman you were married to would be a clear sign of his inhumanity. He was straight, too, this he was sure of. There had been no shame in divulging very personal matters of Medic's past, including the gruesome scene where his parents had found him slicing the wings off of a bird with a butter knife. But never once had homosexuality been mentioned, even hinted at.

It had seemed only natural to leap to Heavy's defense. The spy had been excessively slimy to him, always cornering him alone to hiss lies in his ear. Heavy hardly seemed the type to have homosexual tendencies. Spy had confirmed himself as a homosexual, although perhaps that too was a lie. An attempt to get Medic to out himself. Perhaps the assumption had been that if the clone of Medic was sick in the head, then they would feel no remorse in killing him. Was that what Spy wanted? It made little sense to him.

The look on Heavy's face, though, when Medic had found himself staring down an enraged Texan...he'd looked terrified, as if he feared what Medic would do to him. That thought alone was preposterous, but perhaps it held some truth. If it was true that Heavy was a homosexual, was it true that he'd been in a relationship with Medic? Why, then, would the company do their damndest to hide that? He understood that homosexuality was frowned upon in most all cultures. Sinful. Disgusting. Was that it, then?

He would need to ask Heavy at some point for the truth. For now, there was the more pressing matter of his meeting with RED.

The rest of the week had flown by, some battles won, some battles lost. Occasionally the RED medic would spare him a knowing glance, and he would spare the same glance right back. The battlefield became a safe place, a haven against the growing hostility and tension within the BLU ranks. Scout would skirt widely around both Medic and Heavy, loudly claiming a desire not to catch 'the gay'. Engineer warily kept an eye out for the queer Spy, believing Heavy to be straight just based on the assumption that Spy was a filthy lying scoundrel. Soldier screamed derogatory terms at them whenever they passed by. Sniper looked haunted, but made no effort to avoid them. Spy? Nowhere to be seen.

It was Pyro and Demoman who remained as beacons of hope for the heavy. Demoman would still laugh and pal around with him as if nothing had changed, and Pyro would emphatically share mumbled stories of a past that wasn't his. Medic still avoided the team, even when Heavy tried with all of his might to convince the doctor that Demoman and Pyro were fun to hang out with. The doctor had work to do, he could not stop for even one hour.

Most of this work was conversations with the RED scout. The genuine one. He apparently had a "queeah brudda" (why was his accent so much thicker than Scout's?) back home, and loved Sci-Fi enough to find it really cool that there were clones running around. The scout was not above gloating about how great he was, of course, but he was almost a delight to talk to. Talking to the scout was important; he needed to recognize RED as friendly, and they needed to understand him as friendly. Against the rules, perhaps, but it seemed both companies were taking liberties with their teams.


______________________



When night fell Saturday, Medic requested that Engineer and Heavy join him. Heavy, in case it ended up being a drawn out trap to retrieve their kidnapped scout, and Engineer for any information that was shared. They went unarmed, the RED scout walking freely next to them, to the neutral building. Both medics would need to join in on operating on the scout once his Ubergear was repaired.

The RED medic was nervously pacing on the greyed out Midpoint, looking disheveled and weak without his lab coat. But it was his eyes, his eyes that haunted Medic. The man was alone, looking as if he'd been shot, as if the Gestapo had taken his family. Medic could feel a sinking sensation in his gut, stepping carefully forward. His RED counterpart looked up at them, immediately running over and clutching Medic's vest.

"Zey took him! Zey took mein heafy!"

"...Was? Vy?" He heard Heavy inhale sharply somewhere behind him, heard Engineer mumble something about God under his breath. The scout had inched closer, looking at his RED ally nervously.

Medic had never seen a man so hysterical before, made only more unnerving by how it was a clone of the same man as him. The RED buried his head into Medic's chest, shaking wildly. It was more than clear that, at the very least, the RED medic and heavy had been together. His heart stung, thinking to the Heavy behind him. If the spy was to be believed at least somewhat, then this man behind him had lost his love. Why it hurt Medic to think about it, he wasn't sure.

"Retrainink! Zey said retrainink, und took him avay! Ze demo, he saw us, he saw us und he reported mein heafy as assaultink me! Zen zey took him avay, und...und now zere is a new heafy. He looks just like mein heafy, but he von't even talk to me!" Medic's eyes widened. RED had listened to the report from their demoman and switched out the clone? But why?

"...Lord have mercy." Engineer looked visibly uncomfortable, pulling off his hardhat. "I...I don't agree with it, but I conjure I'd never make one of my own go away. An' they just...they just brought in a new one. Lord have mercy." Heavy was shaking, worry creasing his brow. What if one of his teammates reported him? What if Spy reported him? Would BLU whisk him away, kill him, and replace him with a clone?

"Hey, hey, hey! We got dis! We just go find wherever-duh-hell they took Fatty McLardbutt, and we kick deir asses!" The RED scout looked so sure of himself, as if finding an unknown RED base and breaking in would be easy, let alone picking out the one heavy amongst them all that was the one taken away.

"I agree. Ve need to find zis place." The RED looked up in surprise when Medic spoke, hopeful. Heavy nodded; he didn't care about the odds of such a thing. They would find a way. Engineer was shaking his head. "Fellas, even if'n we all worked together, there ain't no way...unless..."

Okay, I can dig a cliffhanger. So the Spy is trying to get them to take back the Heavy and reprogram him? How does he know they won't send him back for reprogramming because he's a scumbag?

This is so intense. Thank you for updating it so regularly. I think I'd be in a lot of trouble if you didn't.

Gah. How many more questions are we gonna get until we get answers? I'm fretting over here.

This fic is so unsettling in ways I didn't anticipate.

I like it.

Oh man this fic. Holy crap I'm so glad you consistently update. Its such a good story and it's incredibly hard not to get so involved in! Please keep going with this.
I await the next installment with bated breath.

Lovely work! I wonder how many clones there are of each class. But I guess our heroes will find out the horrifying way.

Please give us moar?

Hmm.. smells like... that demo's a spy.

Oh, um...new reader by the way, really loving it so far. Poor Heavy. Hope it updates soon..!

I need more

two years, and it hasnt been updated. why would you post that.
anyways. i really wish this would magically update.

fuck. why does this always happen? I start reading a GOOD story with exciting plot and some amazing concepts, and right when shit it getting intense, it... STOPS.

This is really unacceptable. Is there no way we can persuade you to bring this back? I know it'S been like... 2 years, but I would REALLY like to read the rest, even if you just write one chapter with all the answers and a stupid disney ending.

I KNOW!! I totally agree with 55, so many amazing stories that I've been following religiously have all stopped RIGHT ON A DAMN CLIFFHANGER!! Please, PLEASE continue this! LOOK HOW MANY CAPITALS I'M USING

Well, shit. Maybe I will update it, then.

57
not even that person but PLEASE DO GOOD GOD

I think about this fic sometimes, just can't let it go

57, you would forever be my saint. not even joking, i would kiss your feet and pray to the holy you every night.

Engineer's plan was as insane as it was clever.

The trains ran through three times every weekday and stopped once on Saturday. On Saturday, mail was delivered. That ruled out hopping on the train then, with intentive workers peering down at them from the rusted locomotive. The only logical time to board a train would be when it was zipping by during battle. However, coming in contact with the train in any way triggered an automatic death. Neither BLU nor RED had explained why, although the assumption had always been that it sped by so quickly that a teammate would immediately be whisked away beyond Respawn's borders before they could think enough to jump off.

But how could they board these trains if Respawn would trigger a death? Engineer spent several days pondering, checking the equations over and over, calculating the times that the train passed. Ten forty-five. Twelve-fifteen. Two-thirty. Every day, precise down to the millisecond. Calculated, mechanical. He noted curiously that on the few days when their battles lasted a little longer than usual, a fourth train would arrive. Five-fifteen. However, if they won prior to that, the train would not arrive. In fact, when they lost barely after noon, the two-thirty train never arrived.

He let that oddity slip by. Another variable, another confusion. A distraction.

They'd been working on the solution for four days. Four days with a hysterical, frazzled RED medic counting away how much farther his heavy could be. The likelihood of finding him alive, much less at all, was slim to none. It was on the fourth night that Engineer devised his plan. He kept it quiet, only informing the RED medic, RED scout, BLU medic, BLU heavy, BLU demoman, and BLU pyro. Seven mercenaries, he dared not to ask more. He'd considered at least informing the remaining teammates, but the high risk of being caught, or worse, of the trains not coming, kept him quiet.

That night, they each removed their Ubergears. They would charge into battle with no way of healing or respawning. Then, when the train arrived, they would catch it. Anyone who failed to catch it on that run would immediately go back to their base. They had one shot, and that was it.

Heavy had almost considered writing a letter to his family, but thought better of it. If he died and BLU sent a clone of him to go home, his family would be better off not knowing. Better for them to believe that he was alive then for them to know that an abomination had been sent in his place.

With so many BLUs hiding and dodging direct contact, it seemed unlikely that BLU would even be able to hold their own. Soldier was screaming insults at backstabbing traitors, while Spy was scouring the battlefield to find them. Sniper could see them. Occasionally, when he wasn't shooting REDs. A flicker of Medic's coat, a glimpse of Pyro's flamethrower. He couldn't quite understand what they were doing.

"Zhey are trying to leave." Sniper jolted, grabbing his kukri and knocking over several jars of urine in the process. "Zhey are trying to breach zheir contract. You should shoot zhem and put zhem in zheir place." It wasn't the RED spy. Sniper scowled at him, then went back to sitting. "Wotever. S'not my contract." Spy's lip curled in disgust, aiming over Sniper's shoulder. "Don't go soft on me, bushman. You read your contract, non? Breaching your contract is grounds for immediate termination. Zhey are trying to escape wizh BLU's property. No one is allowed to take zhat technology." Sniper grunted. "Then it's their bloody problem. S'not moine." His eyes drifted, looking over the intricate design on Spy's revolver. What did he call it, the Ambassador? Fitting name for an egotistical ponce.

"Wot th'hell are y'doing?!" Sniper slammed Spy into the wall a moment after a shot was fired, eyes wide. He'd seen Pyro slump forward; teamkilling was impossible during a fight. Yet he'd seen it. When Spy's disguise didn't fall, when he knew that this was BLU's spy and not the RED one, he felt horrified confusion. "But...how?" Spy sneered, thrashing against the tight grip that the taller man had on him. "But 'ow? Listen to you, you sniveling 'alfwit! Zhey removed zhemselves from Respawn and intend to jump zhe train! Do you really want to fight wizh so many clones on your team?" Sniper's fists shook as he clutched Spy's suit, baring his teeth. He heard the train's telltale whistle as it drew closer.

"I. Don't. Care." He held the spy tightly as he glanced out the window. The remaining BLUs and a few REDs sprung from their hiding spots and lunged onboard, whisking away into the darkness of a tunnel. Never to be seen again. Sniper let go of Spy once he was certain of that, smirking as he realized that the other BLU could do nothing about his fury. Not until after the match, at least. As soon as he reached for his rifle to set back up again, a shot rang out from behind him. Startled, he whirled to find Spy in a crumpled heap, the RED spy pointing his gun directly at him. Sniper stood his ground, although he knew that he could do nothing besides wait for Respawn to pick him up at this point.

Instead, the RED spy lowered his revolver and held out his hand, expression utterly unreadable. "We need to talk. Meet me with every intention of traveling. Pack light. Tonight. Train tracks." His voice was jarringly different from his BLU counterpart. More worldly and less French, with no distinct accent. Sniper grit his teeth, but nodded. Whatever was going on, he couldn't simply ignore it any longer. Spy had just killed his teammate. A good one, at that. He watched the body fade, glancing up once the RED spy was gone. His eyes narrowed briefly as he heard the distinctive sound of his team losing. What little was left of his team, at any rate. A few minutes later the RED pyro swung by and killed him, laughing and jeering as the flames made quick work of him.

Oh no! Not Pyro! He (it?) was my favorite...