1 . Name: Applecup @ 2010-11-16 07:48

Applecup writing TentaMedic fic. Why, I don't even. I think I decided it would be funny, to me at least, to suddenly tentacles to my ginger Medic, Karsten. It went rapidly downhill from there. Yes, Tentacreature fic in /fanfic/ - I don't know if I want to porn it yet or not. If I do it'll be moved to /afanfic, I guess.

Slash marks inside quotations indicate they're speaking German. I couldn't figure out a neater way to do it, sorry. If anyone has suggestions, I'm all ears. Feedback is, as always, welcome.

I do intend to continue this, though make no promises as to when it'll happen.

Thanks to Bad Medicine for beta.

~

Everyone knew that, occasionally, Respawn glitched.

It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime things that everyone heard about during Basic and most - most - hoped to never witness. Every Engineering Division graduate knew how to maintain the equipment to avoid such things - what to watch for, when to attempt to fix something - when to put a call in the headquarters to get a proper inspection requested - and every Sanitätsdienst member knew that while there were many and infinite ways that Respawn could screw up, there was only one solution.

Karsten Roth - the youngest, shortest, and, arguably, stupidest of Teufort's RED Medics - did not like Respawn. At all.

He'd never seen it go wrong - though he'd heard all the stories, and been supplied with several more by his occasionally overactive imagination - but the little redhead had nonetheless remained quite firmly convinced that one day he would - whether it was two people spliced together, or one person brought through incorrectly - incomplete or malformed, or still horrifically injured, or some combination of the three - or the materials of sometimes dubious origin the system used as a source for building the new bodies not being broken down completely, and still being in there, partially intact and embedded somewhere in your body - or something even worse, something so horrific he couldn't even imagine it.

But as he lay in Resupply, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and idly counting the tiles, wincing at the unusually bright light and waiting for the world to stop spinning, he started to grow the distinct and rather primal fear that he was about to see a Respawn glitch first hand.

He'd never dealt brilliantly with it - dizziness and fatigue and maybe the slightest nausea, but today... today the room pitched and whirled, and the lights were bright almost to the point of painful, and even the tiniest noise or movement seemed amplified tenfold and, worst of all, he wasn't sure he could feel anything coherent from the waist down. Trying to flex his legs got no response; not only could he not feel movement, he wasn't even sure he could feel his legs, and - feeling his stomach drop, as it simultaneously tried to tie itself into thousands of knots - Karsten tried to push himself into a sitting position, just to confirm what, if anything, had happened, and saw-

-nothing.

At least, that's what registered at first - he couldn't see his feet, or his skinny, pasty legs, or his bony hips or the short, ginger curls of his sparse body hair - and then they finally registered. Thick, fat, slime-covered tentacles, the same bright red-orange colour as his hair, twitching as he tried to scramble backwards, suddenly panicking far more than he had been moments before and oh god they were following him, twitching and curling and flailing even as he tried not even consciously to kick out at them and accidentally slammed his hand down on one, a horrifically alien sort of pain shooting right through him and he squealed - before glancing down and finally registering the way they curved up towards him, the way their colour was so close to his, the way they seemed to almost respond every time he tried to kick or twitch his legs, the way he could feel the dull pain where his hand slammed down on a- on a- the way they segued perfectly into his torso, the bright orange skin of the tentacles and their mantle slowly giving way to his pale, freckled human skin, the- flaps of which that seemed to have opened along his side, running almost in line with his ribs and twitching every time he breathed - the way his skin was even starting to feel dry and tight as the thin, wet layer of slime on it began to dry in the cool, clean air of Resupply-

High-pitched screams were something of a specialty of Karsten's, and this was exactly the sort of occasion that called for one.

~

It took a long, desperate moment of silence for things to start to really sink in - for Karsten to find the nerve to poke at the tentacles again with a hand he stared at on its own for a moment - its tip coming to an end not with a nail but with a claw, hardly razor-sharp - far from it, but still curved and pointed enough to make the Medic feel a little sick as he stared at it - and that horrifically alien sensation went through him again, pain registering from something that shouldn't even be there. It was almost as though it was from a phantom limb, his mind protesting that his body didn't look like that and didn't work like that and his body insisting that yes, it did and he chanced a look down - having, eventually, to force himself to run his eyes over the tentacles that were splayed out underneath him, to take in the way they seemed to fit so perfectly, the way that the awful, alien feelings that ran through him corresponded so perfectly to their movements, the way they twitched and curled every time he tried to will his legs to move - and let out a horrified, terrified whine.

His next instinct was to deny that anything of this was happening - that maybe this was a horrible hallucination, a sort of pre-Respawn dream (nightmare?) that you sometimes heard talk about around mess tables but had always happened to someone's bunk mate or training partner, never the person in question - but the pain, and the strange sensations from where the tentacles brushing against him and themselves and where the suckers stuck to the smooth, cold tiles of the floor, making odd sort of popping noises when they unstuck themselves - sent signals through to his brain that he just had no way to interpret and really, everything about this was just making the redhead hyperventilate more and more.

The resupply door opening, though, grabbed Karsten's attention - and for a split second he just wanted to hide, to find something to crawl behind until the intruder went away, or even just to cloak and disappear, like a Spy - and when he saw who it was who'd come to investigate, who'd heard that scream, who'd responded to the silent alarm raised to all of RED's personnel the moment his most recent death had occurred, he just wanted to all the more. Johan - the BLU Medic turned traitor, the one he'd fallen in love with, the one he shared his bed with, shared everything with - who had taken a moment to register what was in front of him and whose expression had turned from worry to shock to mild horror at what was in front of him - was the very last person Karsten wanted to see him like this.

Johan just stared for a moment - for several long moments, his eyes wandering over the tentacles - over Karsten - before he finally said something, finally breaking the silence - albeit not with much.

"...Liebchen...?"

The redhead just whined in response to that, all but at the verge of tears - staring up at the former BLU, and all but willing him to say something - anything - to make this not real. There wasn't much Johan could do, though - just stare in mild horror and, once he realised he was staring, pull himself together and move towards the younger Medic, hesitantly - especially once the redhead pulled back from him, failing to coordinate himself (coordinate the tentacles now attached to him), and just ending up falling backwards, ending up flat on his back and no further away from the former BLU than he had been before - less, in fact, given that the distance was short and easily closed by the older man.

"Karsten," Johan started again, kneeling down next to the redhead, carefully avoiding the sprawling tentacles as he helped the younger Medic back up into something approximating a sitting position, "Was...?"

Karsten, for his part, just grabbed at Johan the moment he made contact - latched onto the older man, throwing his arms around and pulling him close and sobbing, terrified. His legs were gone and everything was wrong and nothing could put it right and oh god make it stop and the little redhead just bawled, sobbing into Johan's blue lab coat (it smelled of soap, and antiseptic, and them), pulling him as close as he dared and feeling himself pulled closer by the other Medic.

"Karsten," Johan repeated, keeping his voice low - pulling away from the younger Medic briefly, just long enough to remove his own coat - which ended up draped around the younger man, if only to try and warm him a little, "/What -happened-? Did you...?/"

"/I don't know,/" Karsten managed, between sobs - aware, vaguely, that something in his mouth felt wrong, his mouth having to work so much harder at forcing itself around words that just didn't seem to flow right, even in his native German, "/I just... he... I just, like this... Jo, what's happened to me.../"

The older man didn't have answer for that, not immediately - not at all - and just held the sobbing, terrified redhead close, running his eyes over him - unconsciously shying away from the twitching, writhing tentacles and not for a moment wanting to acknowledge they were there but at the same time well aware of their presence - fascinated and horrified all at the same time.

"/...'He'? Who do you mean, Karsten?/" he finally said, still holding the younger Medic close - stroking his hair gently, pointedly avoiding the area around his ears - just staring at those, really, and the pointed tips that their soft curve had reassembled itself into.

Karsten just responded to that with further sobbing, at least at first; clinging to Johan and trying not to make any thought or movement relating to his legs, even if only because every time he did those tentacles twitched and curled - the suckers grabbing and releasing the tiles of the Resupply's floor, and every time any of them moved or didn't move those same horribly alien feelings ran right through him. The coat wasn't helping matters, not much; it was a little insulation, yes, but the cloth was sticking uncomfortably to his drying skin, and it was starting, in its own way, to hurt - not just because it was drawing the damp away from his skin, but because it was chafing against it, every stitch and seam rubbing against dry, sensitive skin and making the redhead wince every time.

"Karsten," Johan murmured again, after the younger Medic failed to reply, "/What happened? Did somebody... do this to you?/"

That just got him another round of sobbing, brought to a premature end as the redhead started to choke and finally cough - a dry, hacking, painful cough that made the redhead wince and whine and cling to Johan all the more.

Johan, for his part, was more than a little concerned at that - looking over the redhead again, his brow furrowed in concern, and his eyes darting all over the younger man - simultaneously trying not to stare at the... appendages that had appeared in place of his legs, and trying to look over them - inspect them, study them - edge away from one when it wandered a little too close, creeping and then tugging at the former BLU's jodphurs. Karsten, though, just clung - just sobbed, his breathing getting harsher and harder every time his chest heaved, and didn't even protest in the slightest when Johan shifted - and then started as the door to Resupply rolled open again.

It startled Karsten, too - catching the redhead mid sob, making him pause and inhale sharply and wince and catch his breath in a sharp, jabbing choke that ended with him clutching at Johan even tighter, leaning against the older Medic and whining and screwing his eyes shut, trying for a moment to believe that if he couldn't see the newcomer, they couldn't see him. It didn't stop him hearing them, though; a deep, rumbling, Russian-accented voice, laced with concern, and more than a little horror.

"...Doktors?"

"Pyotr," Johan murmured, glancing over at the team's Heavy, "Bitte. Somezhing's happened vizh Respawn..."

Karsten just whined again at that - clutching at Johan harder, feeling the tips of his fingers start to dig into the man's back - and then releasing them sharply, not wanting to -hurt- the man, and glanced up - forced himself to glance up - at the Heavy, who was approaching them, slowly, a concerned expression on his face as he looked over Karsten.

"Doktor," he said - quietly, his brows furrowed and his tone soft, "Vhat is... vhat happened...?"

Karsten, though, just responded to that with another terrified noise, somewhere between a sob, a hiccup, and a dry, hacking cough that made the Medic wince and whine. He'd respawned without his Medipack - without any of his equipment really, even his uniform, even his glasses - but that was standard practice. Too much could go wrong, especially with the delicate and sometimes unpredictable technology the Company employed - but there was usually at least one spare pack kicking around, and if nothing else, it provided that extra burst of motivation to get your old body back (as though providing the raw materials for the Respawn system wasn't enough on its own). Johan hadn't his own Medipack, though, either; it was in the Infirmary, locked away along with the rest of the experimental technology that the Company issued them with for use in battle - BLU had shown no sign of launching any attack, and RED had no desire, for the time being, to launch one of its own. The upshot of all this was that there was nothing in the immediate vicinity to make the little Medic at least try and feel a little better - no comforting warmth, no red healing beams, just the bright lights and dry air of Resupply.

"I... don't know," Johan eventually confessed, doing his best to try and support the younger Medic. "I just..." he started, looking back to the redhead - whose breathing was become harsher every time he tried to inhale. "Ve should get him to zhe infirmary," he added, trying to manoeuvre himself - trying to pick the younger man up.

"Here," Pytor rumbled - moving closer, moving down to the younger of the two Medics - scooping him up, gently, carrying him in both arms and trying not to grimace when those tentacles - rapidly drying out, and starting to become sore and extremely sensitive - brushed against him. They were rapidly losing their covering layer of slime, yes, but that wasn't making them any more pleasant to touch - less so, even, if only because of the small, pained noises Karsten was making.

"Karsten?" Johan asked - gingerly reaching out and touching the redhead, gently on one shoulder - frowning a little at the damp that had soaked into his uniform - soaked through from his skin, even. And with his recent tentacles, which had stopped so much with the curling and exploring and were now just slowly going limp... "Herr," he said, addressing Pytor as they walked - wincing a little as they left Resupply, the door to which opened out into the small, if open-air area that led in direction to the battlements and in the other to the underground areas of the base - a blast of air hitting them that wasn't just dry but hot, with it. "Perhaps... zhe showers vould be better..."

That got him a sideways look from the Heavy - who just looked back over Karsten, who had whined at the heat but otherwise wasn't making an awful lot of response - just lying against the Heavy as he was cradled by the man, wincing every time he breathed. "Of course," he grumbled, shifting his arms a little to better support the younger Medic, as they walked. "You should go ahead, perhaps," he rumbled, "Ensure vay is clear. I vill follow quickly."

That gave Johan pause, even as they walked - briskly, yes, but walked - heading down the corridors into the underground base itself, with its cooler air supply and dull, thrumming background electrics. "Ja," he murmured, after a moment - only after that moment, though, reluctant to be separated from the redhead when he was in this state, but - getting a shower running for when Karsten was there, or- wait, hadn't the alarm gone off from the basement? Didn't that mean that- whoever had done this - might still be there?

Johan picked up his pace a little at that, leaving Pyotr and Karsten behind - feeling himself tense and wishing he made more of a habit of keeping something to defend himself with on his person at all times. BLU's reluctance to assault the RED base had long been taken as a given at Teufort; his own experience, both as a League employee and then later as a RED captive had taught him that much. For a League member to be here - and the alarms, as silent as they were, were still active - the lit panels on the walls, the doors that had automatically swung shut and locked tight, sealing the more sensitive areas of the base off the moment that a BLU had been detected, the moment that the RED Respawn system had had to kick in - was both highly unusual and deeply unnerving and did not sit well with Johan, especially given the only candidate - the BLU Spy, an especially obnoxious individual who enjoyed toying with his enemies no end, like a demented, particularly cruel cat. His nerves were done no favours, either, by the appearance of the RED Pyro from around one corner - flamethrower out, levelled out and jerked in Johan's direction as soon as the Pyro spotted him - and the Medic stopped short, backing -just- out of the thrower's range.

"Herr!" he hissed, his hands held up in a pacifying gesture, "Bitte! Zhe Spy-"

"-Wrr yrr?" the Pyro demanded, advancing on him - not lighting up yet, but visibly twitchy - the tension in the air thick and unpleasant. There was a Spy around; anyone could be the enemy, and the fact that, red armbands aside, Johan still wore blue colours did not do him many favours.

"It's me," Johan hissed, not moving - not really wanting to be chased back up the corridor by a paranoid Pyro. "Ve don't have time for zhis! I'm not-!" he added, grimacing and indeed outright cringing as the firestarter moved closer - close enough, eventually, to give the Medic a short, sharp poke with the end of the flamethrower. If he'd been a Spy, the disguise would have flickered, even just momentarily, and Johan would have been roasted alive; he wasn't, however, and it didn't, and the Pyro pulled back, scowling.

"Krsstn-" he started, turning the flamethrower away from Johan, who still didn't relax.

"I know," Johan said, interrupting him, "Vhere did he- his- did you find it?"

"Rrntll rrrm," the Pyro replied, jerking in the direction of it with his flamethrower. "Drss shrrt, thrr. Rr'll grrt-" he started - only to be interrupted again.

"Leave it zhere," Johan said, "Bitteschoen. Don't- move it. It's important," he added, knowing full well that the firestarter, inside of that mask, would be giving him a very sideways look. "Do vhatever you vant vizh zhe BLU, but leave Karsten vhere he fell. Bitte."

"...Frrn," the Pyro grumbled, shrugging - curious as to what the Medic was up to. "Wrrt-" he started to add - and paused sharply as the Heavy approached, finally, Karsten - or what he'd become - still draped in his arms, his breathing harsher than ever.

"Bitte," Johan repeated, throwing a look to the Pyro as he moved past them - don't move him. Don't destroy his corpse. Leave everything where it is. Please.

~

The showers were behind three sets of doors, each one of which had shut and locked itself the moment the alarms had gone off, and each one of which had to be unlocked - each door's keypad slow or unresponsive in its own way - and which couldn't, in Johan's opinion, have opened any slower if they'd tried, especially since he could hear Karsten's breathing become more laboured by the second. By the time they finally arrived at the showers the redhead had passed out entirely, limp and unresponsive in Pytor's arms - still breathing (slow, shallow, harsh, painful sounding breaths) and Johan hadn't even kicked his boots off when he marched into a stall - snapping the water on, coaxing the Heavy in and helping him lower the little redhead onto the floor - supporting Karsten in a sitting position under the water and getting soaked through himself but not entirely sure that, at that moment, he really cared. "Danke schoen," he murmured - aiming his thanks to Pytor, who simply nodded in acknowledgment, his own gaze flicking over the two Medics for a moment.

"You think it vill help?" the Heavy rumbled - his brow furrowed in obvious concern.

"...I hope so," Johan said, murmuring again - watching Karsten with a concerned gaze of his own, wishing that harsh, laboured noise that the redhead was making when he tried to breathe would stop, that he'd come round, that- that he hadn't respawned with tentacles instead of legs, that they wouldn't have to report it as an accident to Headquarters and get him shipped back in a tank - or worse. His own boots - perhaps a little late - ended up being toed off and kicked out of the water's reach before he turned his attention back to Karsten, peeling the coat back off him and running his eyes over what had become of the younger Medic.

"Herr, bitte," Johan added - looking back up at the Heavy, and wondering what he was making of all this, "Zhe Pyro... Ve need to make sure zhe BLU is dealt vizh."

Pytor didn't respond, not right away - just kept his concerned, but otherwise, honestly, cold gaze fixed on the Medics. "You vill be alright alone, Doktor?"

"Ja," Johan said, quietly - nodding, and looking down at the redhead, whose expression - even in unconsciousness - was obviously pained. "I'll be fine," he added - to which the Heavy simply nodded, giving a small grunt of assent, closing the door as he left.

It was strange seeing Karsten like this, and - vaguely horrifying. He hadn't seen anything like it in a long time - not since he'd started working for the League, and the Respawn training he'd had during his own Basic. It had been- longer ago than he cared to recall, really, and Respawn had been new and for the most part untested and not even a quarter as reliable as it was now - and it wasn't very reliable now, if he was going to be honest - and the horror stories that Karsten would have heard as a new recruit had their roots in the events that Johan and his fellow recruits had had to prepare for - and to deal with.

Still, he'd never seen anything quite as bad as this. There'd been reports of quirks in the bodies of people brought through the system - cancers brought on by genetic degradation (though there'd been suggestion that was linked to the equally experimental Medigun prototypes, as much as anything else), missing limbs or organs - even, in one case, an individual who'd respawned complete with a vestigial tail that their medical records swore blind had not existed prior to their employment with the League.

This, though... he'd heard rumours and stories, but they'd always gotten wilder as his career grew longer - embellishments, he could only assume, of the horror stories new recruits spread amongst themselves. As the technology had grown more reliable - more commonly used - the stories had only grown more horrific, and while more than one whisper of something entirely inhuman being processed by Respawn had reached his ears - he'd always assumed that they were just exaggerations - whether deliberate or otherwise - and that they really bore very little resemblance to the real risks of Respawn. This, though, this was making him revise that opinion - much harder and faster than he really wanted to.

Karsten, at least, was breathing a little easier; those flaps of skin on the side of his chest twitching as the water ran over them, and Johan couldn't help but run a finger over them, even lightly - pulling it back the second they pulled back on their own at his touch, Karsten's breathing hitching sharply - unpleasantly - as Johan made contact with him. The former BLU couldn't help but just watch them for a while, glad that Karsten's breathing was steadying, and softening - but less than enthused about everything it seemed to promise. If those were- well, if the redhead had tentacles, and had been drying out, and - well, was amphibious, then those were - gills? Which made a horrible sort of sense, but-

-and that train of thought was jolted aside by the redhead inhaling sharply - and then coughing again, spluttering, and choking and, almost without warning conscious - grabbing at the first thing he found and ending up digging the fingers of one hand into Johan's thigh, prompting a hiss of pain from the older Medic. It took a moment for him to extract himself from Karsten's grasp - for Karsten to relax enough to allow him to do so - and he just held the redhead's hand in his, running a thumb along the soft skin and trying to ignore the way the claws that Karsten's hand now ended with were pressing into his palm. His breathing, though heavy, was at least not as harsh as it had been

"...Jo?" he managed - his voice croaking a little, his brow furrowed, his gaze directed right up at the older man.

Johan just smiled to himself a little at that, glad - if nothing else - that he seemed to be recovering. "/You passed out,/" he said, studying Karsten's face - letting his eyes wander over the redhead's face - trying to pin down what it was that was bothering him about it. His ears were different, yes - pointed, and perhaps a little flatter against his head than they had been, but-

-his eyes¬-

-his pupils were different - tall, narrow slits, drawn tight - as green as they'd ever been, but with an alien edge that hadn't there before - and though his lips were the same as they'd always been, the teeth that hid behind them, that Johan caught glimpses of when the redhead talked, were smaller and sharper than he was sure he wanted to acknowledge - glinting a little when they caught the light in a way that made Johan want to shudder. He did his best to suppress it, though, if only for Karsten's sake, instead trying to hold the redhead close.

"Jo," Karsten mumbled, pulling the other man closer - leaning up against him, pressing his head against Johan's chest and closing his eyes, sniffling again - but not crying, not again, not yet - "/What... happened to me?/"

"/...I don't know,/" Johan answered, after a moment - stroking Karsten's hair again, running wet hands through equally wet hair and trying - trying - to gather some, any strength for the younger man to draw on. He didn't know what was going to happen; what had happened, why... he was as clueless as Karsten. More so, even, perhaps.

Karsten didn't have much a response for him, though, just pulling tighter on the older man, snuggling close up against him - and perhaps, once he apparently thought Johan couldn't see him - couldn't hear him, over the shower water - sniffing a little. Johan, in return, just held him close - trying to figure out what the hell to do from there. The Administration would have to be told - if he didn't report, someone else would, and that assumed that nobody hadn't already - and then what? There was no way that Karsten could stay here, not like this, and - could this be fixed? Undone, somehow, or- was he going to be stuck like this? Would RED even- no, that barely bore thinking about. They'd have to do something, but - it was the not knowing what that was the worst part.

"/It'll be alright,/" Johan murmured, planting a small, reassuring kiss on the top his head - trying to convince himself, really, as much as the redhead. "/I'll look after you. I promise./"

I hope.