I bet you thought this was gone for good, didn't you? Well it's back, and I'm re-writing it from the ground up to fix errors in flow, update characterizations, and generally make it more enjoyable to read. And for the love of sanity, tag your spoilers. I'm sure there are plenty of people who didn't read this the first time around. Chapter 1 “Alert! The control point is being contested!†“Not today, maggots!†The RED Soldier chuckled, swiftly kicking a chunk of what had been the BLU Heavy off of his control point. His smirk grew wider as he looked over the edge and saw the BLU Medic, his body caught on the criss-crossing pipes, crackling with the energy of an undeployed Ubercharge. That lousy Kraut would be dangling from those pipes like a limp sock until the end of the round. And with just a few BLUs left alive, it wouldn’t be too long before respawn activated, and the full humiliation of death by crit rocket would hit like a… a crit rocket! But there was little time for gloating on the battlefield. An arrow embedded itself in the point next to Soldier as he ducked instinctively, stowing his rocket launcher on his back and taking out his trusty shotgun. Today he was taking no chances. This was, after all, an Arena battle. And by God, he loved it! Nothing made him feel more alive than knowing that a slightly extended death waited around every corner! Let your guard down for even a second, and it could mean the difference between a victory and the sting of humiliating defeat-! Soldier cried out in pain, putting his hand to the side of his head, feeling the sting of an open wound and the ragged edge of where his ear had been. Another arrow shuddered, the tip embedded in the metal just above him, covered in fresh blood - his blood! That tree-hugging hippie and his all-natural, free-range, grass-fed bow made him bleed his own blood! Standing up to confront his target, he regretted his decision as soon he saw the glint of the BLU’s arrowhead, pulled back and ready to fire. Stumbling clumsily as remembered who he was up against, he somehow managed to throw himself onto the point, landing face-first just in time for the third arrow to whoosh past his other ear. Right, that’s right, the BLU Sniper… But before he could formulate his daring escape, there was a bang, a scream, and the distinctive sound of grey matter splattering onto concrete. The pointed toe of a leather boot poked at Soldier’s side as he lifted his head, and a voice murmured: “Wot the bloody hell are you doin’?†“I will have you know, Private Campground, that I am defending our point!†Soldier snapped as he jumped to his feet. “And while I do appreciate you putting that BLU maggot out of his misery-†“Appreciation-†Another gunshot, and the BLU Scout fell messily into a puddle of his own blood. “-is for works of art! Now stop standin’ around like a statue and get bloody goin’!†Soldier just nodded in response; as long as there was a single BLU still left alive, pleasant conversation would have to wait. Moving away from his team-mate and hoisting the launcher back onto his shoulder, one rocket was all it took to launch himself to higher ground, and a second took out the enemy Sentry, left unattended as the enemy Engineer chased after their cackling Spy. A bombardment of even more rockets had the unfortunate toymaker running back and forth, like a wooden target in a carnival game, before a single RED sticky bomb finally finished him off. “An’ tha’s whut ye get fer touchin’ THAT!†Standing on the roof across from him, Demo laughed as he gave Soldier a friendly salute. But the American was already searching around for his next target, grumbling about honor and stealing people’s thunder as he re-loaded. He could see everything from up here; Engie wiping his brow and looking proudly at his Level 3 Sentry, the BLU Demoman’s body collapsing next to the facility’s only Medpack as Medic unleashed a Kritzkrieg, Heavy laughing maniacally as they turned around and headed back towards the point. Then he saw exactly what he’d been waiting for; the worst of the worst, the most cowardly coward of the BLU team. A brief flicker took the shape of an arm, raised and ready to plunge a knife into the doctor’s back, and he was in the air again. “Sneak up on MY team will you, you scum-sucking-!†“BONK!†Down came the aluminum bat, mere seconds before his own shovel, and the BLU Spy’s body crumpled, his butterfly knife clattering onto the floor and stopping against Scout’s cleats. “RED team wins! Flawless victory!†Scout grinned proudly, kicking the body off the bridge as the PA system played its pre-recorded tape of whoops, cheers and applause. And just for good measure, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted into the pit; “Hey - how do ya like me now, ya shape-shiftin’ rat!? Yeah, that’s right, ya DON’T! ‘Cause you’re freakin’ DEAD!†Soldier’s knuckles turned white on the handle of his trusty entrenching tool. If there was one thing he hated more than that cowardly crouton, it was being shown up in front of the rest of the team-! “Yeah, that’s right! You are so dead! SO dead!†Scout crowed, “And I am so... SO freakin’ dead-!†he squeaked, his victory speech cut short as he saw the look on Soldier’s face. The young man stepped backwards, trying to stammer out an excuse as his fellow RED approached. Soldier’s glare alone was enough to melt steel, but his cracking knuckles were readying themselves for a much more ‘hands on’ approach, ready to wring a certain pipsqueak’s scrawny neck. He was furious, he was seething, he was seeing red and it wasn’t because of his team’s tasteful uniforms OR the their blood-stained victory… CLUNK. KA-CHUNK. The control point shook beneath Soldier’s feet, and despite his inhuman rage, it was enough to stop him in his tracks, even if it just delayed the inevitable neck-wringing. An earthquake? No; as far as he knew, earthquakes didn’t hiss, or buzz, or make machine sounds like the second earthquake going on right above his head. And earthquakes didn’t make the PA system crackle and shriek, every RED (or at least those not made half deaf by a mis-aimed arrow) covering their ears to block it out. He took a step back, away from the control point, away from the target of his righteous anger, and gazed upwards in awe. The two rings of the machine above were slowly separating, and the blue and green core was almost hypnotic, the colors spinning faster and faster as he gazed into it, so beautiful... A sound like a thunderclap rang through the arena, and the colors merged into a searing turquoise light, leaving Soldier blind as well as deaf. As he covered his now-useless eyes, his roar of pain lost in a wall of noise, something that was probably Scout pushed past him and he fell to his hands and knees. He navigated by touch, feeling his way along the edge of the bridge, avoiding the certain death that lay below, but another thunderclap blew out his remaining eardrum and sent him sprawling onto his belly. Soldier opened his eyes; he could see only shadows, just blobs of darkness silhouetted against the light, but he was sure that was Engie waving his arms, directing their panicking team back into the safety of the spawn room. The only thing Engie did better than making some damn good ribs and playing a damn good guitar was building some damn good machines... and if this thing had him scared... Soldier got to his feet and ran, a second wave of adrenaline pushing every muscle in his body in an all-or-nothing effort to move. All the flames, shrapnel, and of course the landings from his multiple rocket jumps had left him badly injured, but he grit his teeth and pushed onwards. Real men weren’t held back by mere bone fractures! Hearing was for hippies to listen their god-forsaken rock-and-roll! So what if his eyeballs were cooked like a pair of poached eggs? He couldn’t let that keep him down! But what finally put an end to his struggle was a searing pain in the back of his head. His hands clawed at the air uselessly as his remaining senses faded, but the last thing he felt was someone grab the back of his jacket and pull. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Phew…†Engineer wiped the sweat off his brow, gently sliding Soldier off his shoulder. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d gone back out and carried him the rest of the way, just like one of his sentries. “That was a close one… you fellas okay?†He was met with a chorus of groans. Nucleus had just one small Medkit to share among all nine of them, and with Medic sticking with Heavy to build up his Kritz charge, the injuries from battle had been bad enough even before the light and the noise. But groaning meant they were at least still conscious - and he couldn’t say the same for Soldier, laying still as ever as the rest of RED gathered around. Elation and relief over their victory had made way for panic and terror when that machine turned on... but now, with one teammate down and past the usual respawn time, the room was quiet and the mood was grim. “Hey! Hey, waitaminute!†Scout spluttered as Sniper took his hat off and held it in his hands, bowing his head solemnly. “The hell is wrong with you, Snipes!? Soldier ain’t dead! I mean… he ain’t DEAD-dead, is he? Right? They DO turn respawn back on after the whole thing ends, right? Th-that’s what they said, right!?†“Will ze concerned fraulein please step back and let me find out?†Medic said sternly, the rest of the team immediately taking a step - or shuffle, or crawl depending on their injuries - back. The Doc only used that tone of voice when he was ready to ask Heavy to do some crowd control. “Danke schoen.†Flicking the switch on the Kritzkrieg, Medic let the gun and its healing vapor rest on the ground next to his patient, taking a small flashlight from his pocket and prying open Soldier’s eye with thumb and forefinger. Shaking his head, he reached back and adjusted the settings on the Medipack, then examined the other eye. “Zis does not look good…†The mood dropped audibly as Scout stifled something that might have been a sob, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut, as Demo patted his shoulder in a futile gesture of reassurance. Sniper’s knuckles turned white as he crushed the brim of his hat. Spy took his cigarette from his lips, extinguishing it on the back of his disguise kit. And Pyro’s hand-wringing filled the silence with an anxious squeaking, the enormity of the situation penetrating even their deeply deluded reality. There was nothing else Engineer could do other than swallow the lump in his throat, take off his helmet, and though he was a man of science, silently pray for a miracle. Heavy stepped forward with glacial speed and placed a large Medkit on the floor, silently, like an offering before an an altar. Pausing in his chin-stroking and brow-furrowing, Medic immediately opened it up, his fingers swiftly working their way through its supplies for something, anything, that could bring their team-mate back from the brink. The team collectively held their breath as he suddenly stopped, adjusting his spectacles. And before anyone could ask any questions, he took out a syringe and jammed it into the back of the unconscious Soldier’s hand. “ARGH! NAZIS! Nazis and their filthy Nazi mind-control drugs!†Pulling the syringe out as quickly as it went in, the team gave a collective sigh of relief as Soldier flailed his fists wildly. “Get the hell away from me, you goose-stepping son of a bitch! I’ll grind you into bratwurst and serve you to the Kaiser, with my BOOT for dessert! And if he’d better leave some room, ‘cause there’s an after-dinner mint made of-†he stopped as his helmet clattered to the floor, suddenly realizing where he was. “Oh. Hey, Doc.†His glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose again as he stared in shock, Medic quickly cleared his throat. “Ah, die Uberraschungstherapie worked exactly as planned! Exactly - ahem - as planned.†Without missing a beat, Medic then stood up stiffly, picking up the Kritzkrieg and fixing his spectacles for the third time. “Now. If anyvone knows vhat in Gott’s name that thing on top of the point is and vhat it just did, do not hesitate to speak up! Anyvone? Anyvone at all? No?†There was an awkward pause, and Medic sighed in exasperation, waving his hand dismissively. “...Very vell, zen… orderly line, internal bleeding and missing limbs first, zhen head injuries, breaks, fractures, undso undsoweiter…†The team crowded around Medic, vying for his attention like a pack of hungry dogs. All except for Engineer, who’d managed to stay safe and sound crouched behind his gun… and Spy, who he now turned his attention to. The Frenchman had a close encounter with the BLU Pyro at the start of the round, but he’d erected his Level 1 Sentry just in time to take out the fiery fiend. A second or two with the Dispenser to heal his burns, and Spy had cloaked and left without even a thankyou. But as Engineer sat beside him on the wooden bench, he silently proffered his cigarette case. A grand gesture from a man known for his pride. “No thanks. Never do smoke on the job, the ol’ machine oil could go up like… well, you with a Pyro on your tail.†He chuckled, but wasn’t surprised when it failed to break the ice. The two of them never did see eye-to-eye. And besides, it didn’t take a genius-level IQ to figure the unanswered questions of the Nucleus machine were bothering Spy as much as they bothered him. “...You really got nothin’ on that thing?†“Non.†Spy exhaled a stream of smoke. “Who built it, what its undoubtedly nefarious purpose ees… I am the man with all the answers, and yet I know as much now as I did when I first laid eyes on it. I ‘ave, as you said, nothing.†Engineer sighed deeply. It was the answer he’d been expecting, and yet… well, you couldn’t blame a fella for trying, since the impossible wasn’t just possible but normal around here. He’d died countless times and come back fit as a fiddle. He’d designed and built teleporters that could transport a man huge distances, with only the occasional insect-DNA-related accident. Hell, he’d just seen the Doc bring a man back from perma-death with a syringe full of saline. But getting answers about something that really rubbed him the wrong way, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain… it figured that of all things was just wishful thinking. Engineer plucked a cigarette from the case “On second thoughts, light ‘er up, pardner.†Spy flicked his lighter, and gave a silent nod of recognition as Engineer brought it to his lips. Between the two men who rarely spoke, there was a kind of mutually begrudging respect, and now a non-verbal understanding. The fear, the uncertainty, the potential effects of what could well be radiation poisoning... ignorance is bliss, Engineer thought to himself as he filled his lungs with smoke. With wounds healed and bones knitted by the miraculous effects of the Kritzkrieg, and post-victory celebrations back in full swing, the machine and that blinding, burning light was no concern of the others. The concealed door to their living quarters was open and the laughter and bragging was beginning, the seven remaining mercs having their own unspoken agreement; to forget all about what just happened. Leaving Spy to finish his own cigarette in peace, the Engineer got up and followed. Scout was lagging behind for once, keeping the team within earshot so they could all hear about his exploits, completely oblivious to who was listening and who wasn’t. And, it seemed, completely oblivious to who was coming up behind him... “So then I was like, yeah, you want a piece of me!? And he was so scared- seriously, he was so scared, I swear that blue suit of his turned yellow-†“PRIVATE SCOUT! ABOUT-FACE!†The younger man visibly flinched, but stayed firmly in place, his eyes darting back and forth. “That means turn around and look me in the eye, maggot! I should wring your scrawny neck right here and now...†Engineer ran forward to catch up; he’d seen the whole thing happen from his sentry nest, and while Solly was harmless enough most of the time, get on his bad side and he’d go straight from unstable to downright nuclear. “Soldier! You leave that boy alone!†“...but since your dirty kill-stealing actions single-handedly brought us to victory, I don’t know if I should kill you or kiss you full on the mouth.†Scout was visibly shaking as Soldier paused, seemingly not knowing which outcome would be worse. “Instead, please accept this friendly pat on the back.†Relieved, Scout finally exhaled the breath he’d been holding, then almost choked as the hefty slap knocked the rest of the air from his lungs. Soldier continued; “You did good today, private! Don’t EVER do it again!†and the automatic door slid shut behind him. “What… the hell… is HIS problem!?†Scout coughed, struggling to catch his breath. “Crazy old bastard…†“Di’nt yer mother ever tell you to respect yer elders, son?†Engineer shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry anyhow - ya just wounded his pride a little, nothin’ a few beers and a good dinner won’t fix. Speakin’ a’ which, you’d better hurry, or else Heavy might wind up eatin’ all the mashed ‘taters again.†“What!?†The mention of food, and specifically of him not getting any, was always enough to get Scout’s attention. “Over my dead freakin’ body, he might! Outta the way, Hardhat!†The Engineer couldn’t help but smile as he watched the younger man head for the Mess Hall; solving practical problems was in his job description, and helping a bunch of hot-blooded, short-tempered mercenaries get along a little better was one problem solved. But being suddenly sent to a new base at short notice, exposed to whatever was swirling around inside that machine, and seeing neither hide nor hair of an explanation… he’d have to double-check his contract, while he did a little research... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Fess…†Medic removed his glasses, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He hadn’t been this much on edge since he smuggled a cadaver out of Medical School, and like that night of youthful hijinks, he was just as hungry now to conduct his own personal research. But this time, he wasn’t getting the answers he craved, he wasn’t even getting any leads. And it didn’t help that the RED team had decided the best way to deal with their myriad of symptoms was to ignore them. But he’d noticed, and they thought he wouldn’t. They’d hoped he wouldn’t line them up for blood samples and a battery of tests, and he had. He knew his team inside and out, from the color of their organs to their tiniest nervous tics, making him both an expert at detecting sickness and a nightmare to play against in poker. He’d noticed when Scout had stumbled into the mess hall, and his oddly deliberate way of walking when he picked up his food, like he couldn’t keep his balance. He’d noticed that Sniper was scratching himself a lot more than usual, even going so far as to use a Huntsman arrow to reach the middle of his back. Scout had not-so-subtly suggested that he had fleas, which nearly sparked a fist fight, and he’d noticed when the Pyro used the distraction to leave the room, clutching their stomach. Of course, he’d written it all down. Every team-mate, each with a different and unexplained symptom, written down and noted in their records. Soldier complained of a searing pain in his head, but had refused further treatment, claiming it was “weakness leaving the bodyâ€. He’d encountered Spy just briefly in the hallway; with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt unbuttoned, reaching his handkerchief under his mask to wipe his brow. And Heavy… carefully picking up the Russian’s file, he slipped the last hand-written note inside, detailing his worrying condition. Only yesterday, such a thing would have been unthinkable, but he’d found the man asleep and snoring on top of a partially-dismantled Sascha. The same Minigun he spent hours with every night, maintaining and fine-tuning her even more than Medic did his invaluable Mediguns. Seeing that had convinced him; there was definitely something very wrong with his team, but what? He wanted to ask their Engineer. He wanted to assess their Engineer, he wanted to test him like he had the others, he wanted actual, factual results. He wanted to see if his symptoms somehow formed the missing link between vertigo, itching, nausea, headaches, fever, tiredness… and that tingling sensation that he himself kept getting in his limbs, “goosebumps†in English, he recalled. But the Engineer had skipped dinner, gone straight to his quarters, locked the door, and judging by the threatening ‘bee-beep’ when Medic came knocking he’d set up his own security measures to prevent any unwanted intrusion. Perhaps he didn’t wish to be disturbed, because he was suspecting the exact same thing that Medic now was: that the team’s mysterious afflictions were somehow connected to Nucleus, and that searing light… ...And yet... He picked up the one file he’d set aside; T. Degroot, Demolitions Expert, and the only exception to the mysterious outbreak. The Demoman had energetically recalled how he’d single-handedly taken down BLU’s Soldier and helped in the destruction of their defenses by “blowing their Engie to kingdom bloodeh comeâ€. And upon Medic’s questioning, he said he felt not just “alrightâ€, but even beyond the peak of health, “an’ about twenty years younger!†Medic’s eyes snapped open as he fought against the urge to sleep. Maybe it was all just in his head. Maybe he was just trying to find patterns where none existed. They’d been at Nucleus for three whole days. That was three whole days of almost constant fighting, going back-and-forth with the BLU team with neither coming out on top. And thanks to the all-or-nothing rules of Arena, they could be on the battlefield for just a few minutes, only to respawn finding an hour or more had passed. Circadian rhythms disrupted. Pressure to stay alive higher than ever. It was so stressful here - he paused in his thoughts to yawn and turn off his desk lamp - seeing that machine do something odd must have been the tipping point. Yes, it was surely psychosomatic. All of it, all in their heads. They’d never asked before, what they were attacking or defending, so why start now…? He groaned as he stood up. Tiredness had taken hold of Medic so quickly that he’d forgotten the proper sitting posture, and now the vertebrae in his lower back were exacting their revenge, cracking and creaking as he straightened up and dragged himself towards the bed. Damn that heavy Medipack… a godsend on the battlefield, a curse on his spine. Still, he mused, he’d probably feel a lot more flexible after a good night’s rest.
Ooh yes, I really enjoyed this story and was very sad that it seemed to have been abandoned (and during a cliffhanger) so this is great news!
I never even got to read the first upload of it but people kept mentioning it and how great it was so it's awesome to finally be able to read it.
[revving intensifies]
Chapter 2 He was surrounded; surrounded on all sides by mist so thick, he could almost reach out and grab a handful. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been here… or much of anything else. Occasionally, there were things; a childish song, a cold glass of something alcoholic, the sound of footsteps in the snow. But for all he knew they were simply fabrications of his mind, trying desperately to fill the void, before the void filled with the same unending fog. It was no wonder he was losing his grip on reality; there was just so much nothing, nothing for his blindly grasping fingertips to touch, nothing to answer his desperate calls but the echoes of his own footsteps. With no sense of time passing, he could wander like this, alone and blind, until his bones crumbled from age… It would have been so easy to panic at that thought, to give up searching and throw himself to the floor, and scream and shout and beg for something to happen or some help to appear, but there was something that kept him going. Something that told him that he didn’t just look for hope in the darkness; he was the hope in the darkness, the comfort of the brave and the bane of the cowardly. It was all rather poetic, all rather verbose, and more than a little melodramatic… and yet, that was just a part who he was. It was at that exact moment of clarity that the very tip of his boot tapped something. It rang, like the sound of a finger around the rim of a wine glass, and as he bent down… yes, he could touch it! He could feel every inch of its smooth surface, its clearly-defined edge, and as the fog cleared from his eyes he saw his own face looking back, reflected in the steps of a glittering glass staircase. He couldn’t wait any longer; he was filled with unbearable excitement that electrified his body, making him leap to his feet and break into a run, never stumbling or slipping as the staircase spiraled upwards and onwards. As the fog cleared, things started to make more and more sense; this wasn’t just a spiral, it was a double helix! The very same shape that had inspired Francis Crick, appearing before him in a drug-induced hallucination, something he’d been more than able to relate to in his student days. But this was the structure of DNA, the very building blocks of life! He’d pored over those papers with such excitement, wondering if those colorful nucleotide pairs held the key to his research, his fascination with the human body’s ability to tolerate unspeakable injuries and horrendous pain... Medic stopped and looked down at himself. He was wearing his white coat and red gloves, his Medigun strapped to his back, his faithful companion Archimedes perched upon his shoulder, and he was complete again. He remembered everything! He knew exactly who he was, he knew exactly where he was going, and exactly… what he was doing… Uncertainty and doubt pounced. Invisible but all too real, he could feel their icy fingers around his throat, their claws tearing his coat to shreds and snapping the straps on the Medipack, sending it tumbling into the abyss below. Archimedes took flight, leaving him to struggle alone once again, as the sound of shattering glass crept up from below. The staircase was breaking apart, and as he desperately tried to run, tried to regain control, his transplanted heart glowed through his sternum as it pushed itself too far and fluttered helplessly. It was failing him… he could feel it happening… a life’s work, the cumulation of his research and back-breaking labor, and it was all going horribly wrong. He was sprawled on the glass steps now, struggling to catch his breath as the ominous shattering caught up, leaving his legs dangling in mid-air. This was all his fault… he was just too weak, too fragile, too incompetent…! He woke up with a jolt as soon as he hit the ground. And, probably not co-incidentally, this was the exact same time the Scout chose to start screaming. “OH GAWD, WHAT THE HELL!? WHAT THE HELL!†Medic hissed through his teeth as he sat up. He’d fallen asleep in his work clothes. He hadn’t showered last night. He couldn’t find his glasses. He was not a morning person, and the last thing he needed before a cold shower and a hot cup of coffee (black, two sugars) was the most shrill member of the RED team shrieking about one thing or another. The little Schweinhund had probably stubbed his toe, he thought to himself as he snatched up his spectacles and hoisted the Medipack onto his shoulders. Though his contract made it very clear that he was - ugh - required to check on any and all peacetime injuries while they were on base, he was eternally grateful for the “do what thou wilt†clause when it came to treatment. Or, in layman’s terms, it meant he was well within his rights to give Scout something to really scream about... “I-I’ve gotta be dreamin’, I’ve gotta be still dreamin’, there is no freakin’ way this is really happening right now... waitasecond, I’ll just pinch myself and-!†A girlish shriek pierced Medic’s head like a Sniper’s bullet as soon as he opened the door. He really didn’t need this. Not this early in the morning. But closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he calmed himself by adding a few more things to his mental checklist; yes, he was going to amputate that stubbed toe. Slowly. With a blunt scalpel. “DOC! Aw man, Doc, I am SO happy to see you right now, you have no freakin’ idea!†Medic very slowly turned his gaze upwards... and sprawled on the ceiling, wearing only his underwear and a sheepish grin, was Scout. Without a word, the doctor turned towards the door. “HEY! Where the hell are you goin’, sawbones!? Don’t just LEAVE me up here! You gotta help me get down!†“You ah a hallucination caused by stress.†Medic waved his hand dismissively, the other one buried in his grey-flecked hair. “Get yourself down.†Stepping back into the hallway, he closed the door behind him, leaving the apparition of his team-mate to rant, swear, and bang his fists on the ceiling. He laughed a little at the absurdity of it all; the first lucid dream he’d had in years, and it was about work. Perhaps once he woke up, he should go ahead and ask about that vacation time… the Bahamas were supposed to be nice this time of year, maybe he’d dream about that next... “Ahdinnaewannaeeee… urp… bloodeh Scouts…†Another door swung open, and another ludicrous hallucination approached. This time it was a child-sized version of the Demoman, wearing a red shirt that was so big it looked more like a night-dress, and dragging an empty Scrumpy bottle behind him like a teddy bear. This dream was getting a lot less amusing, and a lot more worrying in regards to his sanity... “ ‘Ey, Doc, why’s everythin’ so bloodeh BIG this mornin’?†The dream-Demo rubbed both his eyes, then stared at his hands like he was the one seeing things. “And whut’s with all’a this depth perception?†“It does not matter because you ah not real.†Medic answered bluntly, quickening his pace and heading back to his bedroom. Although he was aware he was in a dream, his own willpower did nothing to affect it, so perhaps if he fell asleep here he’d finally wake up in reality. But once again, he was interrupted by more bizarre dream-teammates; the Soldier this time, who pinned him to the wall, pressing the blade of his shovel against his neck. “ARRETE! Qui va la, ami ou adversaire!?†“Vhat… ?†Medic laughed nervously. This dream was quickly encroaching on nightmare territory, the blade digging more and more into his throat feeling frighteningly real. “Vait, Soldier, please, I cannot understand you!†“Quoi?†Soldier looked at Medic in confusion, lowering his weapon slowly. Clearing his throat, he tried again, carefully enunciating each syllable, then clawed at his neck like he’d just been told he drank poison. “QUOI!?†Medic saw his chance and took it, slipping out of the nightmare’s grasp and running down the hallway as fast as he could. Freud would have had a field day analysing this dream so far; everything from the Scout on the ceiling to the child-like Demoman and the Soldier speaking French probably had some deep, symbolic meaning. But he needed to get out. He needed to wake up. That weapon against his jugular vein had felt too cold and too threatening not to be real... “QU’AVEZ-VOUS FAIT!?†Soldier screamed after him, but he was almost there, his fingers were wrapped around the doorknob- “ESPION!†Medic felt Soldier’s hands grab his head under his chin. He felt them twist and pull unprecedented force, and what he should have felt next was the floor of the respawn room beneath his feet, having had his head pulled clean off his shoulders. But instead it just… snapped back. His head slipped from the Soldier’s fingers and snapped back with enough force to knock Medic to the floor, leaving him dazed (and once again missing his glasses) but somehow still alive. “Zhat was… interesting...†he murmured. The world came back into focus as Medic put his glasses back on, and the first thing he saw was Soldier extending his hand to him, seemingly aiming to help him back to his feet. In his confusion, he took hold of it. But when Soldier pulled, he pulled hard - and Medic’s entire arm stretched before his eyes, bone and muscle deforming like rubber, the limb reaching almost twice its original length before the American let go. The force was enough to throw Medic onto his back this time, but as he sat up and stared at his shaking fingers, he found that everything was the exact size and shape it should be. He pulled one of them experimentally; and with a sensation that was odd but in no way painful, it stretched like living taffy. “I… I am elastic…†The volatile mix of fear and fascination bubbled up as the giggling of a madman, which quickly progressed to chuckling, guffawing, frenzied cackling, and finally wheezing as Medic struggled to catch his breath. Still on the floor, his fingers pulled at his hair, his eyes bloodshot and wild. “Zhis, zhis is no dream… this is reality, but if this is reality, then zhat means...†Right on cue, Scout’s voice floated to his ears; “HEY! Don’t think I can’t hear you guys laughin’ at me out there! This ain’t funny! And where the hell did this kid wander in from, he looks like Demo and it’s really freakin’ me out!†Another voice came from behind the re-opened door; “I am Demo, ye radge fanny! And I’m thinkin’ this is all YOOR fault! Yoo bin messin’ aboot with dark forces, haven’t ye, lad?†“MY fault!? What, you think I rubbed a magic lamp and my first wish was ‘hey genie, could you glue my ass to the freakin’ ceiling’!?†“An’ while I do sincerely appreciate ye gettin’ back me eye, whut the bloodeh hell am ah suppose tae do with it as a wee bairn!?†“Are you deaf as well as short!? THIS AIN’T MY FAULT!†“Zhis is really happening, zhis is really happening to all of us… unless...†There was still hope. Picking himself up, Medic held up his hand in a gesture of peace, as Soldier backed away like a frightened animal. “Soldier… I may be able to fix zhis, but I must know... have you seen the rest of zhe team this morning?†Soldier opened his mouth to reply, but remembering his predicament, shook his head vigorously. “Very vell, then.†Medic answered, and tried to swallow his anxiety as he approached a familiar door. He had no idea what, if anything, could have afflicted the rest of the team, but there was one in particular that had worried him the most last night. And he was determined to investigate, even if that meant jamming his rubberized finger into the keyhole, stretching and twisting until he heard the soft ‘click’ he’d been waiting for. “Heavy…?†He flicked on the light, looked around the room, and his heart sank below his knees as he saw nothing. Nothing! Not a single trace of the burly Russian; it was as if he’d simply vanished into thin air. And given what had already happened to four of them, that was entirely possible… but whatever had happened, he was gone. Heavy was gone. Medic’s shoulders shook as the insane laughter returned. “Doktor!†And he stopped, scanning the room like a hawk. He’d heard something. Yes, he’d definitely heard something, and it was distant and sounded more than a little ‘off’ but there was no doubt in his mind it was- there! But even with his uncanny eye for detail, Medic still couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he sat down on the bed. It was impossible. It was literally, physically, and moreover biologically impossible for a human being to survive in such a state. A man would freeze to death, starve to death, be unable to move, unable to breathe or circulate blood or even have a still-functioning brain… and yet, in his very hand, he held a man who defied reality. “Being tiny man is beeg, beeg problem…†Sitting in Medic’s palm in his doll-sized pyjamas, Heavy was barely taller than the thumb he was hanging onto. “Doktor, you cannot fix thees? Use Medi-Gun to un-shrink Heavy?†Medic had to strain his ears to hear the squeak of a voice. It was no surprise that the scariest member of the RED team was so scared his whole body was shaking; almost everything around him could kill him in an instant. In fact, if he hadn’t seen or heard Heavy, if he’d just wandered over and casually sat on the bed, where his shrunken team-mate had been struggling to free himself from an ocean of blankets, his enormous weight would have crushed him. And as for whether respawn would even detect a human corpse the size of a mouse... “No, Heavy. I cannot fix zhis.†he whispered; his normal voice would be like a giant’s bellow to Heavy’s ears. “Shcout is stuck to the ceiling, ze Demoman is a child, ze Soldier is speaking French, and I… ach, my Medigun is useless now. I am useless now.†Suddenly, an urgent beeping reached his ears. Muscle memory kicked in, and he reached his hand into his pocket to grab his communicator; the “Medic Call†indicator was lit and flashing red for an emergency. It wasn’t until he’d finished instinctively processing where the call was coming from - upstairs - that he suddenly remembered he’d been holding Heavy in the very same hand. But his worries proved unfounded; the Russian had let go of his thumb at just the right moment, and actually seemed much more at ease as he poked his head out of Medic’s breast pocket. “Doktor ees never, ever useless.†Medic glanced briefly at the communicator again, and Heavy gave a reassuring thumbs-up. “Team ees calling for you. Team needs you. Ees beeg problem you can fix.†------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Je suis desole...†Spy couldn’t keep the disgusted look off his face as he carefully lifted his team-mate’s goggles, and moved them down over his unblinking eyes. He could tell himself all he wanted that it was a small gesture of kindness, to relieve the man’s suffering by blocking out the harsh lights of the respawn room. But, as was Spy’s self-centered nature, it was actually for him, and the fact that he could barely stand to look at the unfortunate creature that had once been their Engineer. The scaly skin, the webbed fingers, the gills flapping uselessly in the bone-dry air... they were all bad enough, but those empty, black glass eyes were the worst. Grimacing, he pushed himself along the floor and away from the wretched sight, resting his back against the wall and pressing the Medic call button for a second time. He was starting to wish that such miraculous technology - the Medigun, Respawn, even the Dispenser the Engineer had somehow managed to erect between countless deaths by suffocation - did not exist. He knew exactly where a blade should cut for a swift and painless death, but such an act of mercy would bring only temporary relief. His attention shifted to the concealed door that lead to their quarters. Surely this was the Medic, come to finally relieve him of this terrible burden… but rather than the white coat he’d been expecting, a hairy arm was leaning against the doorframe, a skinny ribcage rising and falling as its owner caught his breath. The Sniper. Kukri in hand, and something red and shiny draped over one shoulder. Of all the people to come and investigate his involuntary scream of terror when he’d first discovered the Engineer... it just had to be that filthy jar man… “You would not believe… the mornin’… that I have had…†The Australian wheezed, letting the red thing slide to the floor, but shaking the Kukri from his hand; strange growths, like roots or branches, had sprouted from the wooden handle and wrapped themselves around his fingers. “Bloody floorboards turning into a forest, had to cut meself out of me own room- holy dooley, what happened to you?†“Thees is no time for childish laughter, you imbecile.†Spy snarled. Despite his efforts, the beacon-bright glow that emitted from every inch of his skin had thwarted him at every turn. His silk pyjamas, the blankets he’d wrapped himself in, even the light-refracting effects of his clock was somehow penetrated by the light, in defiance of everything he knew about the technology. He was terribly, obviously, painfully visible, and the Sniper’s hysterical cackling wasn’t helping his embarrassment. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry mate.†Sniper snickered, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “S’just funny, you bein’ the sneaky one an’ all lit up like a Smissmas tree… wot in Hale’s name is that? Is that Truckie!?†“Oui.†murmured Spy, covering his head with his blanket cowl has Sniper scrambled over to his mutated team-mate. Even the sound of the Australian touching that sandpaper skin as he re-positioned Engineer against the Dispenser, was enough to make him shudder. “It’s gonna be alright, mate. The Doc’s comin’, he’ll find some way to fix ya… stop cowerin’ over there, ya bloody Spook! Help me!†“Help you what? Wait for ze Medic?†Spy sneered through a gap in the blankets. “And with all three of us and our… afflictions, what makes you think Herr Docteur will be in any condition to help!?†“Four, actually.†Sniper said, gesturing towards the red thing he’d brought with him. “It may not look it, but Pyro’s still in there.†“Zees is the Pyro?†Reaching out, Spy grabbed a trailing limb of the deflated rubber suit with his fingers. The flattened mask twitched slightly as he watched. Suddenly, something violently came to life inside it, making the whole thing thrash around like a trash bag full of rats, and Spy immediately threw it away like it was one. “EURGH!†“Yeah. She keeps changing into different things, only none of them can get out of the suit.†Completely deadpan, Sniper picked up the squirming mass of rubber and placed it next to the Dispenser, watching with concern as flapping wings morphed into flailing limbs with a sickening series of crunches, only to disappear completely as a snake-like body tried to wind its way into one of the gloves. “Come on mate, you can do it, just think ‘human’... or, y’know, whatever it is you really are…†This time, Spy couldn’t tear his eyes away as he smoked his fifth cigarette that morning. Medic rushed past him, bumping into him, but he barely registered anything outside of the Pyro’s suit writhing between a myriad of animal forms before it slowly filled out into a vaguely human shape. It was like watching a train crash in slow motion. All of this. They’d gone to bed sick and woken up as monsters. And after Spy had spent the night researching everything and contacting everyone he could think of, to no avail, the man he’d hoped would find the answers in his self-imposed isolation was now convulsing violently as Medic fought to get him back on his feet. “There we go. Feelin’ alroight?†Sniper patted Pyro on the back as they got up into a half-crouching position, their knuckles dragging the ground as they gave an enthusiastic ‘HURH’. “...Orangutan? Close enough, I s’pose.†“Heavy, zere should be a sterile syringe to your left. Danke.†Had the doctor gone completely mad, confronted with a team of freaks? No; if he squinted through his own light, Spy could make out a tiny figure holding the needle aloft, Medic taking it and plunging it into a vial of adrenaline. The largest member of their team was now their smallest… fate had a cruel and ironic sense of humor. “Zere. Zhat should do it, for now…†Medic backed off from his handiwork. With some surgical tubing and two bags of saline from the supply cabinet, plus a little boost from the Medigun, the doctor had managed to jury-rig a system to deliver much-needed water to the Engineer’s new gills. “Can you hear me, Engineer? Can you see me? Gut, gut... ach, zese protrusions on ze Dispenser have completely torn your dorsal fin, but ve can patch zat up in no time...†“Oi, Doc, I know this sounds mental, but-†pulling Medic’s arm to get his attention, Sniper immediately let go like it had burned him. Seeing a man’s elbow stretch out and snap back like elastic… any other day, and Spy would have put in his resignation notice right then and there. But being as it was, he simply lit another cigarette. “Sorry.†Sniper murmured sheepishly. “Thought maybe you’d be the only one who’s still… nevermind. But I s’pose I may as well ask; is this real?†“I can assure you, Sniper, zhis is no nightmare. Now follow me, bitte, I need your assistance getting Shcout down from ze ceiling.†Sniper had no further questions as he silently followed Medic, and Pyro carefully picked up Engineer, cradling him in their overly-long arms as they shuffled out of the room. Spy was content to watch them leave; he needed to take the time to gather his thoughts, to come to terms with the sheer insanity of the situation. But as the Australian crushed one of the many cigarette butts littering the floor with his boot heel, a stray tobacco seed within it sprouted, and within seconds it had grown tall and flourished into broad leaves and a head of delicate white flowers. “Mon dieu…†Spy held his head in his hands; if he hadn’t gone completely insane already, things like this would surely push him over the edge.
Nice to see this fic getting a rewrite. The original is what got me into TF2 in the first place. Btw, I had a couple of what-if ideas for this fic, if anyone's interested. (I get writer's block (i)way(/i) too easily.)
The quote/reply script seems to have broken for me for some reason, but I'm interested to see what you come up with, Faust. I'm not sure if you mean "what if" as in speculative fanfic, or if you mean "what if" as in what if the powers they got were scrambled (stretchy Scout, babby Medic etc.) but I'd like to see your ideas. I'm gonna post Chapter 3 later today, once I've finished re-building my buffer. Having to tag everything up is annoying but it's worth it to reach a wider audience.
Actually, one thought was to have the BLUs as protagonists, and possibly get their powers before the REDs. Please update soon!
I'll be honest with you, Faust - uploading to TF2chan is really, really annoying, because I'm stuck using BBcode to add my italics, and even then the formatting often screws up. And the site is so dead that uploading my stuff here is a really, really low priority right now. Next to no-one is reading. Nobody is commenting. If you want immediate updates go here -> http://thenucleusincident.tumblr.com/ But otherwise you'll have to wait until I can be bothered to go through 4000+ words and tag up my stuff. And right now, I can't be.
Well, it might not mean much, but as a superhero and tf2 fan, I'm really happy that you're starting this back up again! It was one of the first stories I read from TF2.