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No. 875
TTMTT, revised completely and beginning a somewhat regular update schedule so I figured I'd better repost it where it started. Didn't want to come back too soon in case I ran out of steam again but I think I'm back.
Here's an origin story.



Chapter One

A man sat alone in a large, empty kitchen. The moon's dull blue light attacked the floors and pristine counters and fell on the man, whose mind was so lost in thought that the muscles of his face had relaxed completely and left his mouth hanging slightly open. He breathed through it an airy sigh before wringing his gloved hands, which comforted him with their resounding squeaking. A door slammed somewhere in the abysmally large fortress. Shortly after, a bellowing Soldier stormed the room.

"The kitchen is not a lounge, nor your private quarters, officer," said the soldier, who, dressed entirely in his uniform and short not even of his shovel, marched to his startled victim and continued. "Furthermore, you are a disgrace to your own line of work! I do not need quacks on this team, I need men who are capable of sleep and of excellent performance the very second they open their eyes!"

"Herr Soldier, wh-"

"What is it, officer?" The soldier interjected. The Medic trembled from the slight breeze that snaked through the room. He had left his coat in his quarters.

"May I know why you are not only beautifully awake, but fully dressed as well? It is the first hour of the day."

The Soldier glared at the Medic as if he had insulted his country. "One must always be prepared!" He continued bellowing on his way to a cupboard. "If the BLU scum come waltzing in-"

"You know perfectly well that they cannot; no one can leave after a ceasf-"

"-then they will not have the pleasure of maiming me or my RESTING comrades." The Soldier poured himself a cup of water, eliminated it in one swing, and proceeded to frown at his teammate. "As to why I am here in this kitchen, it is because I was sorely dehydrated. Carry on, officer." As he turned to go, the Medic called him to a stop. The Soldier turned to a haggard man.

"We are the only ones left here, Herr Soldier. There are no more doctors, and there are no more soldiers. The corporation is mad if it thinks it can keep shoving the two of us into more skirmishes with BLU. They have at least three doctors, and I have given up counting their blasted Demomen." The Medic propped his elbows on his knees and ran both hands over his graying hair. He then stood and straightened to his full height.

"The respawn chambers activate only during battle. Every last dummkopf who stormed BLU without promise of rebirth is dead. It is clear that we are not receiving reinforcements. Respect my wishes, Herr Soldier. Do not attempt to ambush BLU at night as they did because there are things in this world I would much rather do than defend this hovel of a fort against Scot bombers with a needle gun."

The Soldier grunted and shoved his shovel behind his back.

"Only maggots disobey orders."

They retreated to their respective rooms. Neither man slept.

Chapter Two

The next day, the remaining RED mercenaries positioned themselves near a strip of land several miles from their base. Protect it, The Announcer said through the sound system. It was the only thing in the RED base not rotting in shambles. The Medic gathered the last of his equipment as the woman's shrill voice trilled in his ears, and followed the RED Soldier. They quickened their pace as they neared their destination.

"Have you taken all of the equipment?"

The Soldier panted after him, carrying sacks whose contents protruded from the fabric in strange and jagged patterns. "Yes...doctor..." He stopped to catch his breath, surveyed the terrain they were to defend, and continued.

"Though why we must defend a filthy, barren ditch..."

"Do not question orders, doctor. I do not question yours."

Several abandoned and half constructed buildings littered one side of a canyon wall. The closer RED moved into the area, the louder were the muffled explosions that erupted from a pair of gates a considerable distance away. Medic recoiled indignantly. "Verdammt, Herr Soldier. A brisk walk is all it takes for the madmen to take...this", said the Medic, gesturing disgustedly at the unremarkable valley. The Soldier made to berate his colleague for his un-American attitude before he heard the doctor's muffled chuckling. Ah, he thought."Set the traps, doc?"

"Ja, Herr Soldier. May this be their most memorable stroll."

For weeks, RED had been outnumbered by BLU so much so that it nearly shamed Medic to tears to hear from half of their drunken enemies that the other half were soundly sleeping off their Scrumpy in their base. They had learned, and for Soldier, in the most painful way, that direct combat was synonymous with suicide. Now they gathered as much equipment as they (namely, Soldier) could carry, and lay only the dirtiest traps for the brazen BLU with the little time they were given to set them up.

Medic trembled slightly as The Announcer declared the last sixty seconds of his guaranteed survival, and made hasty adjustments to their traps. The two quickly positioned themselves on opposite ends of the canyon. The Soldier hid on the roof of the highest building. The Medic, concealed by outcrops, gripped his instruments mere feet from the rattling gates.

They whined and clanged. Medic was never as close to the gates as he was then. The relative safety he was assured by the large, concealing stone outcrops and his delicate traps did nothing to stop the trembling of his fingers, the tightening in his chest, or the dryness in his mouth. How ridiculous, he thought, for a field medic to take such an active role in combat. He briefly wondered when these explosions of adrenaline in his system would ebb enough to allow him to even operate again.

Five seconds. He figured that the cogs would move now.

Four seconds. He heard them start, and for some unspeakable reason, his rather insignificant premonition calmed him.

Three seconds.

Two.

One.

In seconds, the gates slid open, followed immediately by a chorus of resounding pops whose violent rumble was all too familiar to the Medic, who drew his lip to a snarl. "Jump, schweinhunds."

As expected, a number of sticky bombs propelled the Demomen straight out of the gate at a speed that did not allow them to register the barrage of needles that struck them in flight. Four Demomen landed, pierced, halfway to the scattered buildings that RED was defending. Medic moved and hid himself behind another outcrop, wary of an enemy soldier and a pair of BLU field medics who stumbled out after their teammates."The dummkopf and his frauleins," he chided.

The RED Medic bit his lip; the solution in the syringes was too slow. He realized too late that the damned Scots had closed the gap between the gates and the control point too soon. He only prayed that his teammate would see the real threat before firing at the irresistible decoys.

An explosion rocked the canyon in answer, and debris spread quickly. The BLU Soldier and his two doctors retreated out of sight at the scene of the Demomen's death. The Medic swore, gripped his needle guns, and hoisted them onto yet another cross of rope closer to their control point. He waited.

The RED Soldier waited as well. He was used to blowing up Scots. He was also used to insulting his remaining enemies after he had done so. But most importantly, he was used to giving away his position in such a matter and leaving his only colleague to die or leave the captured area alone. But today would be a good day. "Wait 'til the Medic sees this", he boasted in a low whisper. "I will destroy the maggots myself, and then my checkup hours will be cut in half. Only five hour checkups, hah!"

Medic grew anxious. Nothing was happening for longer than he would have liked, and it was maddening. "Eight of you, always eight." Dark strands of hair stuck to his forehead and a drop of sweat parted from his jaw. Four Demomen. One Soldier. Two Medics. One was missing. He thrust his back against the stone he hid behind, suddenly aware that was blind to his immediate area, and almost giddy that he checked himself in time. He laughed gaily and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, enjoying the wind's strange, gentle hiss. When he looked up, it was into the barrel of the Ambassador.

. . . . . . . . .

"Come on, come on." RED's Soldier was ready to split some heads, and the BLU cowards were grossly depriving him of the pleasure. He was no lover of guerilla tactics. "Come out, you miserable-" He stopped his mumbling and grinned as a BLU Soldier and Medic stepped out from behind a dilapidated building. The two ignored a gunshot that sounded somewhere to his left and the BLU Soldier fired several stray rockets. One screamed past the RED Soldier as he lay flat on the roof. His fingers and toes curled in anticipation. The wild sparks that eased out of the enemy Medic's medigun were not lost on him. What a treat, he thought ecstatically. Terminating the enemy doctor before or even after his charge gave him a particular pleasure.

"Fancy tricks are for magicians, son, not warriors."

Merely a screaming distance away from the conflict, the RED Medic sat still and silent against the concealing rock. He wore an almost peaceful expression, and his eyes had closed. His chest, however, rose and fell in erratic patterns.

"Do not humor me, doctor, I am well aware that I missed."

Cigarette smoke forced a poorly suppressed cough from the Medic, but his eyes remained closed.

"I do not intend to kill you."

The stranger's voice soothed the doctor. The RED Medic's hands and feet were restrained by torn cables, and he was unable to move his bruised jaw, but this man's voice calmed him. Was it because his ears were hardened to his teammate's crude grunts that he found this man's slow drawl almost musical? He opened his eyes. His attacker rubbed his hands together, as if to squeeze the blood and grime out of the costly black gloves. He knelt near Medic, careful to avoid dragging his coat on the ground, and blew more smoke into his face.

"I see newcomers do not faze you," Spy said with ill hid disappointment. "But what does it matter? To my knowledge, I replaced a BLU doctor. Why BLU needed three of them, I could not imagine. But now I see." He took a long drag and continued. "You are a clever group. So tell me, doctor, where are the rest? I see the giggling one on the roof, and here you are. Tell me where your remaining teammates are and I may even give you a chance to save them." The Spy left the cigarette in his mouth and listened.

Medic frowned and spoke slowly to avoid further pain in his jaw. "There is no one e-"

"You disappoint me, doctor."

"Your team will tell you, there are no othe-ahh!" The Spy gripped the doctor's chin.

"I am a busy man, doctor. You are not giving me much reason to let you live." The hand gripped tighter, and the Spy waited patiently as the doctor's face contracted in pain. The BLU Spy leaned close to the Medic and whispered in his ear as his hands mimed an explosion, "Is this terrible noise afflicting you? Would you prefer to cooperate in the silence of ceasefire?" He grinned as the doctor registered this and let out a strained cry. "Nein!", he breathed. "I cannot leave the Soldier alone for you schweinhunds, I cannot," Medic rambled in a sudden fervor. Each rocket that made contact behind him shoved his panic to a higher peak.

"I do not care for the company", the Medic howled over the rising din. "RED does not take care of its workers. They have lost my respect long ago." The doctor uttered a stuttering gasp as the combustion of a charged rocket rang through the arid air. He imagined the monstrously glowing BLU charging toward his comrade. He refused to hope that his teammate would survive an Ubercharge alone.

"Kill me, Herr Spy."

The cigarette dropped."Do it now before I take my own invitation." The BLU Spy opened his mouth and looked at the doctor incredulously as the conflict behind them grew louder."The damn point is yours, dummkopf! What else could you possi-" Medic stopped. The noise had ceased.

A gruff voice tore through the silence. The RED Soldier boasted triumphantly about maggots and America and glory and a thousand other things as his Medic, separated from him by nothing but a slab of rock, attempted to cry out, if only to vehemently congratulate him and order his own punishment for his lack of faith. The Spy frowned and stopped him.

"Interesting charade, doctor. Now." he said, gripping the Medic's jaw again. The pain drew sharp shapes and ripples into the doctor's vision. The Spy tilted his head thoughtfully. "Perhaps BLU may even be open to accepting a prisoner of w-", he stopped as his eye caught movement at the gates. Medic followed suit and immediately wished he hadn't. "Even the time it takes to reanimate your men is a quarter of ours," he said weakly, as the Demomen returned, destroying his traps on their way to the RED Soldier. The Medic hurriedly stuck his head from behind the outcrop. From his position, he could easily make out both remaining Soldiers. The RED Medic saw the second BLU doctor first, but the RED Soldier had already begun firing.

"THE SECOND IS ALSO CHARGED! GET BA-" The Spy's swift kick to the stomach silenced the Medic. He rolled out from behind the stone, tore the binds on his feet and returned the favor. The RED Soldier spotted his doctor and leapt from the roof with no spare thought. He was followed by the charged Soldier and Medic from behind, and by four unscathed Demomen to his right. The RED Medic disregarded his pains completely and yelled in a cracked voice:

"DO IT, HERR SOLDIER!"

"WE DO NOT SURRENDER", the Soldier answered, even as a critical rocket and a swarming mass of pipe bombs enveloped the man. It was only when he saw the blue figure behind his doctor that he swore quietly and fired one miserable rocket. A mere second after the projectile left its launcher, the Soldier's body flew wildly in all directions across the canyon base.

"Move, you idiot!" yelled the Spy. The Medic shoved the man away of the rocket and leaped into it himself.

As BLU marked the canyon theirs, the Spy glanced at the eventful slab of rock and then at a dismembered RED hand as it faded from the earth. He hoped that he would meet this doctor again. He hoped that he would again meet the man who not only asked for death, but smiled blissfully in its face.

Chapter Three

Several hours after the end of this mission, the RED base lost its silence courtesy of the unceremonious gagging of its Soldier. He stumbled out of the Respawn and sat in the Medic's waiting room, as he had done after every trip through the machine. The RED Medic always had the longest respawn time out of any mercenary who has ever given his life for RED. When he left the Respawn room, he noted the time again. Three hours, 34 minutes.

He strolled through the waiting room past the Soldier. The signup sheet bore the man's obnoxiously large and thick signature, which would dwarf all others had there been any. Medic turned to Soldier, his face white but tone commanding.

"Should there be a ceremony announcing your entrance?" Partially under his helmet, Soldier furrowed his brow questioningly.

"Y-you mean you're ready, doc?"

"Nein, I am standing here for my pleasure." The Medic entered the exam room, followed immediately by Soldier, who, in one fluid motion, strode in, shut the door, threw off his helmet, and sat on the exam table. He sat rigidly, and his eyes were moist.

"What's this, another respawn symptom?" Medic gently pulled at an eyelid. The Soldier shook his head.

"No, doc. You... just... you seein' me the very moment you exit the reanimation unit...it's just...so American. Today is a good day."

"I agree, Herr Soldier," Medic said, albeit monotonously. The doctor performed the routine check on both of them to be certain that all the important bits were there.

"We failed our mission, officer," said Soldier as the doctor returned his instruments.

"But we gave those maggots another hell of a show", he added. The doctor exhaled, and even smiled briefly. More importantly, they had come back together. He would sooner destroy his medigun than admit to anyone his uneasiness in being left alone in a battlefield. He had been "the last kill" for too many missions for his liking.

"I understand that you have information concerning the enemy, doctor."

"Wh... ach! Of course. They have a replacement for one of their Medics. A Sp-"

"SPY? I didn't think those worms would stoop so low. But to hire a spy...this could be a problem..." He rubbed his chin as the Medic noted his blood pressure. "Is he American?"

"Nein, he sounded European. Perhaps French." Soldier burst into gruff giggles. "Then we have absolutely no problem," he declared, and slapped the Medic on the shoulder. The doctor smiled feebly.

"Of course, Herr Soldier, of course."

When they agreed that they were put back together coherently, they went their separate ways. There was little to enjoy in the base save for chess boards with no pieces, an old radio whose knobs jammed, and whatever books the censors allowed. On many nights, the Medic simply reread his medical textbooks and journals. He tried to stay away from the notes tonight. They contained minute records of every member of RED that the doctor had examined during his stay at the company, compiled with those of other RED Medics. Tonight, however, he did not want to be reminded of those who were in a better place than he. Medic considered taking a stroll through the base, but it was a tired notion: the sort one would make jokingly. He bid goodnight to the Soldier, and went to bed.

The RED Medic awoke in the middle of the night. He left to see the Soldier, but he was not in his room. He panicked and searched the base, and at last found him sitting on a ragged sofa next to a silent radio. The doctor sat next to him and motioned for the Soldier to give him his arm. He gripped a slender needle and cleared his throat.

"Herr Soldier, we are the playthings of a dying company," he said bluntly. Soldier said nothing. The doctor rolled the Soldier's sleeve up to his elbow and disinfected the skin above a thick vein. "It is time for us to go. I have dismantled the respawn chambers," he whispered excitedly. Again, Soldier was still. The needle penetrated and the syringe's contents emptied. "I will come later, as always." As Soldier relaxed and succumbed to shadow, Medic detached a small capsule from a thin string around his neck, placed it into his mouth and leaned back on the sofa. His brow and the corners of his lips lifted blissfully and his eyes slowly shut.

They then snapped all the way open at the too familiar clang of metal that signaled the start of the day. "Nein... how can it be," he gasped. He felt his hands and his chest and his legs and rubbed his eyes. The capsule protruded from beneath his thin shirt. "Es war ein Traum...ein Traum..."

. . . . . . . . .

"Permission to observe how horrible you appear, officer."

"Nein."

"Then permission to take over kitchen duty."

"Why?..." Medic started. Oh, he thought. The omelet was not an omelet anymore. He disposed of the burnt thing and handed the pan to Soldier.

"Omelets are for sissies," he muttered, and found a box of old pancake batter. Medic sat at a large table and rubbed his eyes again. What a wonderfully horrible dream. Or was it the other way around? He played it again in his mind regardless, and found his fingers brushing against the flimsy string that held the capsule around his neck. It was an expensive thing, this pill. He had plans to use the smuggled treasure should he be taken prisoner during battle by the enemy, but with each passing day, it begged to be swallowed away from the influence of respawn.

"Medic."

"Ja?"

"There's a letter in the mail. A company letter. I figured I'd wait until you were-" The Medic wasted no time in retrieving this letter. It was the first they had received in so long that Medic wondered how they even knew what letters were anymore. He fumbled with it and tore the envelope impatiently, ignoring the food that was laid out for him. "To our vonderful employees", the Medic read aloud, "There will be a number of changes that you must be made aware of. First and foremost, your contracts have been modified..."

The Soldier looked up from his food. "Continue, doctor", he said, and grew annoyed with the Medic's silence. "Herr Soldier", he said quietly. "They are extending our contract indefinitely."

"Oh. Alright."

Medic put his hand over his mouth and let the letter fall.

"Quit your stalling, officer. I am just as excited as you at the honor of continuing our marvelous work, but that is certainly not the entirety of the letter's content."

The Medic picked up the page. Bending his back to reach down, curving his palm and tap finger and thumb on either side of the letter, placing the other gloved hand on his knee for leverage to straighten again - he felt nothing but a ravaging blackness in his mind, a disconnect from his body, and a hatred so consuming it ravaged even the reasons for it. The doctor continued before he found them.

"A train will arrive on the first of March und supply the base with additional supplies and men."

The Medic stared. He smoothed the wiry wrinkles in the paper and tilted it under a better light."...and men", he said again. He read the sentence again. Then once more. And another, this time just to hear how it sounded. The Soldier thumped his knuckles on the table loudly. The Medic continued, his voice breaking. "...There vill be two on the first train and one more on the second, which vill arrive a week later, und...und then..."

The Soldier grumbled and snatched the letter to read it himself. The doctor laughed. The sound was foreign to him, and its echo a bit alarming, but he did not care. The Soldier finished reading and moved the letter aside.

"I agree, doc. I find it positively laughable that they are sending more troops. I don't know about you, but I believe that we are doing just fine under these circumst-" He stopped speaking suddenly and cocked his head to one side. The doctor heard it too; it was a knock. A knock on the main entrance of the base. The Soldier thundered to the door as the doctor trailed behind. The RED Medic heard it open, and swore to forever remember his teammates' first words.

"Howdy!"

"Yo, I smell pancakes."

. . . . . . . . .

"Place of birth?"

"Boston. No really , doc, I'd love some pancakes right now."

"Not before your examination. Family?"

"Ma, seven brothers. Haven't seen dad for a while. Okay okay, but AFTER, can I have pancakes?" The boy winced as the doctor finished the last vaccinations. "Wait, why the hell do ya gotta know about my family?"

"I was wondering what sort of environment would push a boy as young as yourself to enter this line of work", the Medic said, and put away his equipment. He sighed. "To be frank, I am not surprised..."

"Hey, I'm not a "boy" and that ain't no reason why I'm here. 'Sides, you ain't seen me at work yet." He straightened his cap and leapt off of the exam table. It was at that moment that the Soldier slammed open the exam room door and pointed an angry finger at the newcomer.

"DOCTOR, WE HAVE A SITUATION."

"Nein, Soldier, this one is healthy this time." Ignorant of the doctor's diagnosis, the Soldier stormed toward the Medic, forcing the man a step back with his violent cloud of indignation.

"This is NOT a PRESCHOOL, Medic." He then faced the boy. "And YOU will march your preadolescent hindquarters back to the train station and wait for your mama to bring your sippy cup while the real men bleed!", he bellowed. The boy whipped a metal bat out of his bag, tipped the Soldier's helmet back and looked the enraged man in the eyes."Make me, Private chucklenuts."

The Soldier roared a menacing battle cry, swat the hand away and lunged at the boy, who leapt on the table in the small room and mockingly swung his bat at the air at an invisible baseball. The doctor pulled him, whining and kicking, off of it by his ear as the Soldier made another violent lunge. The doctor watched curiously as the second newcomer ran in and stopped the Soldier's arm. The stocky man sighed in relief and adjusted his collar. "Whoa, there. If this here's a dispute over our right to be here, then you can look at both our papers." He offered his own documents and motioned to the boy's on Medic's desk.

The Soldier ripped his arm from the man's grasp and snatched his papers. He scanned them and thrust them back.

"Eleven HUNDRED PHD's will not excuse this insubordination, private."

"Pardon me, sir, but don't it make sense to test our mettle in combat before sendin' us home?"

The boy slipped past the doctor's grip during the exchange and crept toward the door. As he stood poised to run, Soldier grabbed him by the same ear that was just freed.

"OW, WHAT THE F-"

"Maggot, I am not finished with you. And YOU," He peered down at the man's papers. "...Engineer." He hesitated. "What would an engineer possibly contribute to this fine team?" Engineer straightened himself and grinned at the Soldier and Medic as Scout finally regained possession of his ear.

"Have you any problems?", he asked, turning to the doctor. The Medic cleared his throat stiffly and looked in any other direction but at the man's wide grin. "We may have certain practical problems..." The Engineer chuckled and clapped his hands together.

"Then that's why I'm here."

The atmosphere in the base was all but calm. Soldier hovered incessantly over Engineer's shoulder as he demonstrated the sizable upgrade to the Soldier's and Medic's primitive grenade pits and needle gun mounts. The Soldier had become so engrossed that he had no objections to watching the Engineer toil away in his newly converted workplace until the stars glared. The doctor faced a similar and yet very different scenario. How strange, he thought, that the constant din of whining rockets and clanking pipe bombs did not bother him as much as one boy's persistent babble. His pounding head was soothed considerably by the gentle hum of the company treadmill, and by the rhythmic steps the boy made on it for the past three hours as part of an "examination".

Medic was unsure of what to make of the pair. Soldier was examining the other, so that had left him with the boy. He did not have nearly enough strength to prop a rocket launcher against his shoulder, much less survive it's recoil with an intact head, and had little knowledge of the field other than the primitive 'dodge, point and shoot'. And most frighteningly, he had little gear on him other than a bat, two company issued guns, a headset, and a can of soda. His muscular legs and thin frame entrusted him with a pace faster than anyone else's on RED, but an athlete is no warrior. Soldier may have been right, he thought. Maybe they should send the boy home.

"Nod off again, doc?"

The doctor stirred and frowned. "Why don't you take a break...in fact, rest up. Tomorrow will be your first battle and I'll be damned if you can dodge rockets with heavy eyelids."

"I get to choose my room though, yea?"

"Ja, just g-"

He ran off happily. The doctor sat a little while longer at his desk, propped his head up with his palms and struggled to remember a thought that had teased him in his half sleep. He thought of the boy, and the thought nearly resurfaced. Nearly. Medic sighed and gathered his personal belongings. He made for his room by walking through halls that, despite their emptiness, did not oppress him quite as malignantly as before. He thought of the eager Engineer and the tireless boy, and briefly marveled at their youth - that foolishness which placed them in the hands of Reliable Excavation Demolition. He rubbed his stiff neck.

Chapter Four

Medic and Soldier lead the boy to the day's battle ground. Soldier occasionally prodded him to keep him moving - or to relieve his newfound indignation with every "ow!" as Medic explained the day's objective.

"BLU has gotten control of an area of great importance to RED - an easily rebuilt outpost near the path of a supply train that carries equipment for both bases. If we do not seize the area as well as the territory near it before t- are you listening?"

"Yeah yeah." The boy moved away from the Soldier and closer to the Medic, rubbing his arm.

"Herr Soldier, bitte. Do not give me more reason to postpone your visits to the infirmary. Now, again - if we do not seize the area before they return, they will attempt to capture or ransack the train as well, leaving us with nothing. Do not look so surprised," he told the gawking youth. "We would do the same."

Their destination was a compact area behind the canyon that had towered over the dilapidated outpost buildings on the other side. A lone gate was set into a stone entrance that was now the only way into the old control point. As the three mercenaries made themselves familiar with the terrain, the Engineer ran past them as quickly as his bulky toolbox allowed. The Soldier grinned giddily as the doctor prepared his medigun.

Sixty seconds.

The boy had managed to climb on a protruding rock that listed precariously to one side over the gates. The Medic caught him fiddling with that suspicious drink again, and made sure to remember to check his blood sugar later. The Engineer and Soldier huddled together over some obscured contraption that had begun to bleep rhythmically.

Thirty Seconds.

"Yo, the Announcer always quacks this loud? Geez," said the boy, wincing and groping his head theatrically.

"Quiet, dummkopf! You will not even hear the gates open over your own drivel." The Medic then turned to the Soldier, who had been running to and from the Engineer with various bits of metal. "Herr Soldier, we must prepare!"

"Not yet, Doc. Y'all can relax" said the Engineer. His musically calm words infuriated the doctor. Engineer suddenly smiled in thought, and interrupted the doctor's impending outburst.

"Y'all ever had an engineer on the team?" The Medic stopped mid-thought and slowly shook his head.

"Nein. We are fighters, not toy makers," he said, gesturing to the Engineer, who laughed good naturedly.

Ten Seconds.

"I bet you'll like this here toy", he chuckled. A BLU Solider and Demoman approached the gate from the other side. Their mocking pounds on the metal seemed to provoke not only all of RED, but also their "toy", whose excited bleeping from under Engineer's swinging wrench invited an uncontrollable trembling in the boy. He remained crouched above the gates and tapped his bat to the wall of the canyon in rhythm to the bleeps. The Engineer finally stepped back from his work, allowing the Medic to see it for the first time.

Five.

Medic inhaled sharply under Engineer's careful watch. "Might wanna cover your ears, doc; this ain't no concert", he chuckled. The Medic didn't even hear the gates open. He didn't see the BLU step in. But he did see what remained of them.

The Soldier dragged the shocked doctor to the empty entrance. "Excellent work, Engie. Now let's uproot the rest of 'em before they run screaming to their mamas!" The Medic stopped at the entrance, earning a well resonating "COME ON!" from the Soldier. The boy, still rubbing his ears, leapt down and stood next to the Engineer as Medic protested.

"It cannot be so easy; they are expecting us. How will we avoid their traps? We do not have spare Demomen to fling at them." The Soldier snorted at the memory and abruptly stopped at seeing the boy, whose head was thrown upwards to catch the remaining contents of a bright can.

"WHAT IS THIS MUTINY? I DO NOT PUT YOU ON THE BATTLEFIELD TO GUZZLE SOFT DRINKS AND PRIMP AROUND WHILE MEN DISCUSS EMERGENCY BATTLE STR -"

Soldier stopped raving only when the boy had charged through the entrance and returned after a full minute with a bloody bat.

"BLU Doc an' Demo, down..." he panted, doubling over. "Pair 'o Demos on either...either side of cliff...one hidin' in building...sticky bombs on walls..." he added. He exhaled loudly and folded his arms. "Gimme a sec and I'll get the rest for you geezers."

No one even considered giving him the pleasure, and every RED mercenary charged through, eliminated every BLU in sight, and secured the area. Dinner that evening was louder than ever before in Medic's or Soldier's memory. Admittedly, Soldier contributed more to the cheering and whooping than anyone, making sure to toast to the day's events as soon as every glass was put down from the last.

"...and then we gutted their last Medic and painted the canyon with him. And THEN, Engie gave the honorary shotgun blast into that Demo's face, and the point was OURS!" Soldier bellowed, swaying in his seat. "But YOU" he continued, patting the boy's back enthusiastically, "without your superior scouting abilities, we would have come out in more pieces than we would have preferred, son." Before the Soldier had a chance to, the Medic raised his glass.

"That's it, that's what I will put under 'position' in your papers, Scout", he said. Scout whooped and clinked his can against the doctor's glass and downing that drink.

"And to our excellent Engineer, who proved me wrong and has the good nature to not pursue the fact," Medic said, giving the Engineer a mockingly stern look. Engineer grinned and raised his glass with the others. Medic soon excused himself and left the celebrations early.

Things have turned in RED's favor comically fast, he thought. The doctor entered his room and locked the door. The room was large; it served also as his medical library. No wound to treat today, he remembered. Not a single bullet wound. Even the Scout recovered quickly from his brief skirmish. Then again, the enemy was surprised, and would not be again. They would also need to move into battles closer and closer to the enemy base. This would put RED at an immediate disadvantage if their supplies run low. The Medic sat in an armchair and quietly listened to the clangs of the tireless Engineer down below, and enjoyed the smell of an expensive cigarette. He slowly came to when he realized that he was not smoking.

He threw open a desk shelf, loaded the pistol inside, and pointed wildly.

"I know you are here."

Silence. The wind rattled against the closed windows, and the shadows cast by the dim lighting mocked his paranoia. His heart's wild pounding seemed to shake the room.

"Your cloak does not eliminate smell, dummkopf!" Medic chided. A muffled groan sounded from behind him, prompting the Medic to fire.

"I thought so," said a voice to his right before the ringing subsided. The Medic fired, and again did not hit anything of interest.

"I asked the company if it did, but who are they to indulge a mere mercenary?"

The Medic fired again, every miss worsening his panic.

"I suppose it is foolish to ask why you are here, Spy," said Medic, leaning against a bookshelf. He sighed heavily. "But to deliberately disobey ceasefire regulations? Even if you are successful in ridding RED of its one doctor, both companies will want your head," he said darkly.

"I'm aware," said the invisible man, then added jovially, "But I am not here as an assassin. Non, I am here to congratulate you." The Medic heard the man take a drag from his cigarette, which was either deliberately loud, or disturbingly close. To elaborate on which, the intruder's breath warmed the doctor's ear as he continued.

"On your new teammates. I like them; they are so young and impressionable. And naive. Do they know that a spy exists in BLU yet?" The Medic stopped his breathing as an unseen cold metal slid it's broad side against his neck. As it just barely broke the skin, the air betrayed a shimmering outline of the Spy, who quickly pulled back as the doctor swung his pistol against his arm, prolonging the shimmer. He quickly followed up and shot at the receding silhouette, which left no splatter as a parting gift so he assumed a miss.

"Pardon, docteur. I must not know my own strength." Medic exhaled sharply and glared in all directions, much to the audible amusement of the intruder.

"Regardless, I will not be the observer tomorrow as I had been today. I can't wait to see who you introduce to me first..."

Medic moved to block the door, only to see the window open and shut from opposite the room. His chest tightened as he stood there, waiting for the smell to dissipate and his nerves to calm. He shoved the pistol back into the drawer. The doctor was almost annoyed that the Spy had not killed him, and had even apologized at that pathetic nick at the throat. They were on opposite teams, ceasefire or no. This courtesy was entirely foreign to him. He slept fitfully.

The next day's battle was expectantly more interesting now that BLU registered their new targets. Engineer, having lingered a bit longer than before at the base, returned and built his sentry again. Under the hail of rockets and bombs, he explained to the Medic the purpose of the hunk of whirling metal at his feet. Thinking the Engineer utterly insane, the doctor simply nodded and accompanied the Soldier in his effort to push BLU back even further from the outpost. Teleporters? Medic immediately put the man's checkup as high priority.

The sentry stood on the roof of a high building within sight of the BLU gates. As the Scout ambushed a pair of BLU Demomen intent on destroying the sentry, the Engineer left it for a moment to gather more metal. He stopped and ran back to it as a rattle and hiss replaced the sound of fire. Scout was already there, staring at the malfunctioning gun confusedly.

"Yo hardhat, why's your stuff glitchin'?"

"Not sure, boy, but this thing is probably doing it... whatever the hell it is," he said, pulling a tangle of wire and battery from the gun. He heard a scoff from behind.

"A sapper, mon ami."

. . . . . . . . .

BLU Demomen charged at RED, not caring to hide their unnerving howls. Alarmed at the absence of sentry gun cover fire, Soldier and Medic shoved Scout out of the way and faced the charge themselves. As the Scout stumbled away from the imminent collision, his skull throbbed from a sudden onslaught of light and noise. He looked back to find the source of the eerie crackling that tickled his ears, and squinted at the blinding scarlet light emanating from his teammates' bodies. As Soldier emptied his rocket launcher at the swearing BLU, Medic yelled for Scout to find the Engineer.

The Scout, finished with alternating between awe and horror at the ubered pair, ran back to the sentry's building. When he reached the door, the carnage behind him stopped. Soldier stood sentinel while the doctor retreated past Scout for additional supplies behind their lines. The boy flew up the dark, angular staircase and took a shortcut to the roof. "Shit, Engie, why'd you bail on us when we needed y-"

Scout was on the roof now, looking over Engineer's wasted body. His shock extended for many precious seconds. His eyes grew wider and his mouth trembled because he wanted to swear; he wanted to swear more in the next minute than he would ever again, but he could not make a sound. He threw himself to his knees and felt the man's neck for a pulse with trembling fingers. At a loss with where a pulse would even be found, he pressed everywhere and heightened his hysteria. He shuddered as the warm blood seeped into the bandages wrapped over his own hands and ran down his forearms. His heartbeat exploded and he jumped at a sudden voice.

"I'm sorry."

He turned to see the RED Medic frowning at the body and shaking his head. Scout moved his mouth again, and to his intense frustration, he still could not produce sound. He gripped his cap tightly and kept trying. "D...doc, he's dead. He's dead, doc. Engie, he-he's dead..." The boy continued to mumble incoherently as the doctor gripped his shoulder gently. "It happens, boy, it happens." "No no no, doc, that don't happen to Engie. He just got here, that bastard just got here." "I know, I know." "Who does he think he is, doc? Dyin' from a fucking-, what is that? A knife s-stab? What kind of sh-shitty death is that? An' it's in the back, too," Scout rambled.

"Unfair, I know, Scout."

"Some fucker actually fucking backstabbed him. But how the hell, man? All o' the BLU are over th-"

The RED Medic smiled warmly as Scout stopped speaking and slowly slipped his shoulder from under the Medic's hand. "Doc...y-you came out of the supply building right as the sentry stopped beepin'." The doctor cocked his head confusedly as the Scout stepped back, bumping his feet against stray sentry parts.

"An...and now you're here jus' as I turn up... you gone traitor on us, doc, that it?" Scout picked his bat off of the floor and gripped it until the bandages strained. He was then aware of the entire battlefield, as if this truth freed his mind from linear thought. Soldier was retreating behind him, and what sounded like the enemy Soldier-Medic pair pushing into the area. And lastly, their own Medic was screaming obscenities at their Soldier for rushing without him when he had pulled back for supplies. Scout frowned and peered down in time to see the RED Medic run past the building, cast a stray glance up at him as well, and another of shock at his own doppelganger. In a moment that Scout promised to tell his seven brothers back home multiple times, he ducked, elbowed a lunging knife out of a gloved hand (not red as before, but black, he would tell them), and swung his bat as far into the attacker's chest as his adrenaline pumped arms would allow. The crunch of metal on flesh and bone was heard even by the bellowing Soldiers.

"Yo, that was SICK. Are your ribs always that loud, ya fuckin dingbat?" Scout yelled, his voice cracked but menacing. "And what the hell is this crap?" He picked up a paper mask from the floor. On it was a portrait of the RED Medic. He threw behind him and approached the man keeled over. He swung his leg to kick the BLU, who promptly caught his ankle and twisted until the Scout fell to the floor. They both returned to their feet, one grinning widely and the other clenching his teeth.

"Mon Dieu, non, that was the-", he paused to spit the blood pooling in his mouth, "-the loudest thus far," he said, making an extravagant display of his awe at the fact. The Scout didn't care to register the compliment.

"Why the fuck are you prancin' around with that stupid mask on, huh, stupid?" Scout knocked his bat against the roof threateningly and circled the man, whose grin became so sickeningly wide that he was forced to laugh out his joy.

"Now what the shit is so goddamn funny?" Scout said, his voice trembling out of fear and anxiety and rage and a thousand other things. The man adjusted his suit, bending only slightly in spite of what Scout hoped to be massive internal bleeding. "I was not expecting an audience with you so soon, but-" he paused again to spit, "- spies cannot be choosers."

"You're a spy?"Scout screwed up his face as if he had smelled his own socks after a mission. "Oui," the Spy said curtly. He frowned as he gripped the front of his bloodied suit. The Scout's breathing quickened. "Y-you killed Engie." "I am not stupid. I sapped his sentry and THEN killed 'im." As the Spy slipped a hand inside his jacket, an explosion rippled through the air and the RED Soldier landed between the two on the building.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS TEA PARTY, LADIES. YOU ARE THE ONLY BLU MAGGOT DENYING OUR VICTORY." He made to fire a rocket but was shoved roughly aside by Scout, who lunged at the Spy himself and in complete disregard of the revolver that emerged from the man's jacket and pointed at his chest. The knockback from the shot did nothing to the Spy's advantage because the Scout paused only briefly before leaping over the man and disconnecting his skull from the spine. The crack made even the Soldier shudder, however joyously. It was swiftly multiplied as canyon speakers projected the declaration of victory for RED.

He curbed it, however, before approaching the Scout, who immediately felt the penalty of his skirmish. Blood spilled through his shirt and down his legs. He felt rough hands on his shoulders and voices in his ears but paid them no heed as his knees buckled under his own weight.

Chapter Five

"Ah, jeez."

The RED Medic stopped organizing his tools and looked back at the Scout wearily. "Even the second the anesthetic wears off, your tongue does not rest. Calm yourself, we are in our base and away from ."

The Scout attempted multiple times to rise from his bed, with each attempt was met with a downward shove from Medic.

"But doc, where...where is he?"

"He?"

"Y...y'know..." His voice was soft and low, as if a higher pitch would upset himself. He avoided Medic's grey eyes. "Engie. What are we gonna do about Engie?" Medic straightened his glasses and resumed wiping his tools.

"Picked up, obviously." "What? By what?" "The Respawn, of course."

"What?"

Medic's eyes widened. He slowly turned back to his confused patient.

"Scout," he started uneasily, "did you happen to skip or skim over any part of your terms of agreement when you applied to RED?" He said this all slowly, as if to prolong the inevitable answer.

"Oh, that fat book they gave me after my interview? What's that gotta do wi-"

"Answer me."

"Pft, I don't need no manual to fight. Course I didn't read it, who does?"

A small scalpel made a series of fine clinks as it fell out of Medic's hands and met with the floor. He began to speak before the door to the infirmary creaked open and a second voice interrupted.

"Howdy, Scout! How you feeli-?"

Ach, nein, nein, nein, the Medic thought. He pushed the Engineer out as Scout bleated a hoarse cry and leapt out of bed, dragging his white covers with him to floor. The Medic hauled him back in and, deaf to the boy's indignant insults and furious questions, hastily snapped leather restraints across his ankles and wrists. After sedating him and tightening the restraints a second time, he stepped outside to a puzzled Engineer.

"Solly told me what the boy did. Thought I'd come over and congratulate him myself-"

"Nein, Herr Engineer, this is no time for that." Medic groaned audibly and rubbed his temple for a moment."He had not read his papers," he said softly. "The terms of agreement."

"Well that's a shame, but what does that have to do w-"

"He thinks you are dead, Herr Engineer."

Engineer's realization crept rather markedly onto his features. As the doctor walked away, he called after him, "We can just explain the system to him. He'll still stay, right, doc?" He looked on as the doctor waved away his questions and rounded a corner.

When the sedative wore off, Medic and Soldier came to the still restrained Scout and explained first, and with great detail, the monumental level of stupidity required for him to not read his own contract, and second, what was arguably the most important information in it: Respawn. Medic would never have thought that explaining the existence of a technology that would prevent death indefinitely would give him a bloodied nose. After sedating the boy again for throwing what was possibly the most violent fit the Medic had seen in his entire career, they left. Engineer was told that infirmary visits were out of the question.

Medic returned to his room. Night had fallen without his notice, and with a glance at the half lit clock, he counted four hours since the end of the day's mission. He closed the door and went to stand by a window. He was a rational man. He was a doctor, and a field medic at that. It was never the right time to stop working, or delay sleep that would compromise work. It was a rule he had imposed upon himself. Yet there he stood at his window and simply looked at the cratered moon. Cratered, barren, and probably filthy, he thought. He rubbed his neck with a bare hand. He felt a thin string around his neck. He had not given thought to the capsule since its allure was broken by the new arrivals.

Between the dull clangs in Engineer's workshop, he heard a soft shuffle. It could've been a rat. Regardless, his back found a wall. As his shirt grazed the peeling surface, a mournful sigh filled the room.

"Je suis désolé, monsieur. I did not mean to disturb you yet."

Medic turned toward the familiarly mocking voice with building panic, but not without a certain reassurance. Pondering over the nature of the last visit in the day's idle periods produced an unmistakable answer. His newfound knowledge, however, did little for the tremble in his voice.

"I know why you come here."

"Oui? Humor me, doctor."

"You come alone and when I am alone. You are the newest mercenary in the company; I am its first. If you are not simply playing with your meal, then this must all be a wonderful setup for an elaborate negotiation. Now hurry up and name your terms so I may refuse them."

This was followed by a brief silence, followed by a rising crescendo of poorly suppressed chuckles. Soon, the invisible man did not even bother to hide his raucous laughter.

"Bravo, doctor, très créatif! Still, that is not my intention. Not today."

The doctor heard a small click and a long inhale before cigarette smoke wafted through the room. He wondered how long the man had to wait before smoking to keep his cover, only to blow it with clumsy footing. The doctor would've wanted a smoke or three after that as well. Truthfully, he wouldn't have minded one in his own skin either.

"I feel that your team may benefit from a performance report, non? Surely you must know from the opponent's eye how fragile your young friends proved to be."

Medic's face must have done a beautiful job of conveying his indignation. He heard the invisible man take another drag before the infuriatingly calm voice continued.

"Make yourself comfortable, doctor, you are so tense."

"I will do what suits me, Eindringling. Now say whatever you wanted to say to me and leave." He had no power in his position, but to hell with whoever thought he would submit like a dog. Another long drag and the amused, disembodied voice continued.

"I suppose I should start with L'ingén-"

He fell silent. The Medic heard it too - footsteps in the hallway and soon after, a tentative knock on the door. Awaiting a split back for every second after he parted from the wall, Medic rushed to open the door to a bleary eyed Engineer.

"Ah dang it, thought I heard you talkin' to someone, and well, Soldier's asleep so I figured the boy must've calmed d.. ah, sorry doc." He tipped his helmet and shuffled off. Medic watched him go, almost disgusted at how close two strangers had apparently become over an insignificant train ride, but no less intrigued.

"Engineer," he called. The stocky man peered back.

"You must forgive me for doubting you twice. Scout would not have survived without the teleporter." Medic said. The Engineer grinned, his tired eyes still half lidded. "Much obliged," he said softly.

"Do your team an added favor, Herr Engineer."

The Engineer raised his eyebrows and listened.

"Watch your back. Also, ask the Soldier for a spare shotgun in the morning. I will not clear you for battle if it is not consistently in your possession." The doctor waited until the Engineer nodded in agreement and left before Medic reluctantly stepped back into his room and locked the door again. He turned around and his whole body jerked in shock.

The suit made fine creases at the elbow with each slow clap, and strips of light ran across a blue balaclava as the face behind it looked at him with an expression as calm and casual as the oily voice it possessed. A low 'ahem' and suit readjustment later, the man sat straighter in the doctor's armchair and raised his arms theatrically. "Monsieur, but you are putting me out of business with this 'watch your back' nonsense." The Spy then laid them on the chair's armrests and slipped a cigarette case from his jacket. "Do you smoke, doctor?"

His eyes may have lingered on the case a bit longer than it took to object.

"Oui, not today. Now, that-", he said, putting the case away, " leaves the bunny." The cigarette tip glowed. "Although I may as well include all of RED. " Medic waited as he took another unnerving drag.

"Charging into foreign policy without settling domestic disputes is very... dangerous, doctor."

The Spy propped his head up in the chair and raised his eyes in thought. "Who knows? Maybe RED will whip him into shape. And maybe," he added, "I can provide added encouragement."

"I doubt aid from a treacherous schweinhund is of any value."

"Mon Dieu, doctor, I do not rise to bait."

"You should. Then perhaps you will cease tirelessly dragging out my death."

"I 'ave told you before, I do not mean to k-"

"You have with you a revolver and a knife. I am unarmed because spare ammunition has been melted down to serve the Engineer's purposes. The pistol rounds I wasted on your shadow were the last."

"S'il vous plaît, doctor. If it bothers you this much, then next time I will-"

Spy stopped abruptly. His brow furrowed and, with what Medic thought was almost convincing concern in his tone, asked him if he wasn't feeling well.

The doctor scoffed and, while choosing only the most insulting retort, realized where the Spy was looking. The Medic glanced down at his own shirt collar and gathered from his white knuckles and creased folds that he was clutching it fiercely. From inside the shirt, he also glimpsed the tantalizing outline of a little white capsule that held the little blue pill. Just one bite, he realized, and these unnerving interrogations, these traitorous conversations, would be over.

Spy disappeared. The window creaked open of its own accord and the night was still again. The doctor grabbed the clock off the wall and hurled it through the window before closing it at the eruption of pained groans and foul French. He ripped the capsule from his neck and threw it blindly before collapsing into bed, remembering the BLU Spy's last words and thinking that it will snow in Dustbowl before he will allow a "next time".

Chapter Six

Engineer, having spent half a night laboring over various undisclosed projects, slept soundly until noon. Upon waking up, he regarded the sun's position in the sky with mute shock. He dressed as quickly as if he had missed ten missions, flew out of the room and crashed into someone just outside.

"Sorry, partner, thought I was the last one h-"

"Engie?"

Engineer froze at the small voice, and stopped rubbing his eyes to see it's owner. He cleared his throat awkwardly and lifted his goggles. He thought they distorted his perception, but no, the boy was just as sickeningly pale.

"Shouldn't you be in the infirmary, boy?" he started, but his voice trailed as Scout's face fixed itself into a disgusted scowl.

"I don't gotta be nowhere," Scout said darkly, "You don't tell me where to go, ya clone."

"Scout, what are you sayin'? Respawn ain't a clonin' machine, and I'm still-"

"Don't talk to me, you fake, don't fucking talk to me," Scout said and backed away. His knuckles were white, and he struggled to control his trembling lip. "I ain't gonna die like Engie did and have some...some clone prance around pretendin' to be me," Scout said, with his voice regressing to a cracked whisper, and his face twisted into a mess of fear and pain and disgust, and as Engineer opened his mouth incredulously, he understood that the boy had escaped the infirmary. Scout swore again and ran.

Engineer followed him down the same hallway which led to the mess hall. The attacks were ludicrous and unfounded but left Engineer more surprised at his own reaction than at its cause. He shouldn't be worked up by that boy; it wasn't practical. He soon learned from Medic that they were free to rest for the day while RED's new outpost began preliminary renovation. He also heard that Scout had left his bed sometime in the night and was not seen since. His teammates' reactions were not entirely alluring:

"A deserter is another word for traitor, which is commonly interchangeable with maggot."

"Dummkopf should have read the job description."

The Soldier was eternally in his own basement room; it was a room flanked by large closets containing what little metal, ammunition, and spare shovels they still had. There was no hope for whoever disturbed him there. As for Medic, Engineer would struggle to find anyone nearly as unpredictable and distant as he.

It was not his business. The boy would come to in due time. He would not get involved. He thought this rather intensely until his trembling hands refused to cooperate in light of his absurd need to find the boy.

The longer his shadow extended behind him, the more frantic Engineer became. He only had several lazy minutes of twilight left after hours of turning the entire base on its head in his search. Convinced that Scout was not in the main building, he had come outside to search the surrounding buildings. A two story timber shack near the edge of the base looked to him like a great place to stow away, but upon inspection, he found that no human had breathed the air inside in what must have been years. He shuffled past discarded papers and charts littering the floor and stood outside, looking at the menacingly crimson sun as it bled into the horizon. And then, seemingly out of nowhere at all, came a muffled cough.

"Scout?" The Engineer turned expectantly in all directions but could not find the source until he looked up.

"How'd ya manage to get on the roof?"

"Why the hell should you care?"

The Engineer motioned for him to come down. "Well, I did comb through the entire base lookin' for ya. Come on back, boy, you're sick as a dog." He stepped back for a better view. Scout turned his head away from his pursuer and lay limply on his back.

"I ain't bein' drugged by that creeper again, pal. Never again. An' I ain't about to follow a...a damn clone." At the slow drawl, the last of the glaring red light spilled past the horizon and snatched Engineer's patience as a parting gift.

"You keep this up and your death'll be no more honorable than mine."

Scout remained silent. Engineer appealed to reason a few more times until the ensuing silence escorted him back to his workshop. The place was darker for want of moonlight, but one lit lamp was ample enough. Engineer hoped that his last words hadn't skipped past Scout's consideration altogether:

"I got something in my workshop that might patch you up. No doc.
10 posts omitted. Last 50 shown.
>> No. 968
um, can someone kinda summarize the last chapter for me? I got kinda confused. I swear to God I'm getting stupider as time goes by... I did like it a lot though!
>> No. 969
So it looks like Soldier's mad at Medic, most likely because Medic defended Pyro and told Soldier that the American wasn't his superior officer.
Thus Soldier being the one to break the deal by bringing the Equalizer and refusing to let Medic heal him ever again it seems.
I have to commend you, right before Medic was beheaded with Soldier looking down on him and doing nothing, I realized what was happening between the two and felt an overwhelming sadness from that moment.
Those two had been through so much and now it seems that their camaraderie is no more.

As always, your characterization just draws me in and makes every team member endearing, human, and interesting to read. So far, no one is annoying and for that you have my gratitude.
Question: what payload map is this? I'm pretty sure it's not Upward, I'm guessing Badwater?
Can't wait to see what'll happen in the next chapter of my favorite story!
>> No. 973
>>13
ok after reading that and the last paragraph of the chapter again I kinda got it better. Thanks!
>> No. 983
I had a little trouble following this chapter. I'm no writer, but your descriptions and dialogue suddenly seem less clear.

Are you maybe overwriting a little? It's a hard line to walk, especially when you want to make your writing "prettier" without making it overcomplex.

Love it usually. Seriously, mouth-watering writing.
>> No. 984
I'm glad its been brought up, but I can't fix much unless I get specific examples. Anon(13) summarized the thing beautifully and anything else is buildup for potential plot/subplot developments. The last paragraph may have been a stretch but I'm a sucker for cinematic conclusions. And yes Anon(13), I imagined Badwater but a good number of payload maps fit the description so I didn't give it a name. Regardless, I'll be more careful from now on. Thanks for the input, everyone!
>> No. 985
Specific parts I had trouble understanding:

"The doctor whispered furiously in the man's ear, his eyes darting from the flag's loud colors to Soldier's impromptu interrogation of their new teammate before stopping abruptly *in want of its cause*." Not real sure what that last part means.

"He nearly punched its source further into his arm, having assumed the flame acquired a taste for doctor's coats." Took me a few tries to get what happened. He nearly slapped the needle deeper into his arm cause he though he was on fire there, right?

"Medic adopted a habit of whipping his head in all directions and would have been bound and sedated had the paranoia induced whiplash not been deserved." Had trouble understanding this one too.

"The two separated once on the ground, the doctor to Heavy and Scout on his own, for a trip to the dispenser with his legs was far less dangerous than letting the medigun beam falter from RED's resident meat shield for even a moment" slightly confusing.

"Medic became obscenely aware of his every breath as if each demanded a soliloquy on his way to Respawn. His breathe caught as the lead finally sank through his flesh. His vision rippled before leaving him entirely. Medic felt himself lifted and would have assumed death had the gesture not been more organic than Respawn's hard yank." Poetic but kinda confusing for my simple brain :)

"A wisp of warm air trailed from a detonation and wrapped its filthy ribbons around Medic's exposed neck." This one took me awhile too.
>> No. 986
-in want of the interrogation's cause -he wanted to know why Soldier was grilling Pyro. That was a flub, I admit.
-yes
-Medic was looking out for BLU Medic so often that it would've seemed overly paranoid had everyone not seen that the guy was really gunning for him
-could've been worded better too; it was too risky to let Heavy take a huge portion of BLU's attack without constant healing
Last two: Can't say I blame you, but in moments like those where I want to slow time, I deliberately twist descriptions to make the reader slow down and pay more attention which (I hope) pushes the moment's significance.
>> No. 1001
That slowing-time thing's a pretty neat trick, if it works. Doesn't seem to do it for me, though - I just end up reading it twice, which breaks immersion. I wonder if there's another way of doing it?
>> No. 1162
Chapter 22

His breathing echoed. It always echoed in the cold white room. His numb fingers traced the sloppy line that had divorced his head from his neck but it was gone, courtesy of Respawn. He flexed his fingers. Some bodies returned feverish and warm. Others cried for a bath in flames to relieve their clammy stiffness. After he had dressed, Medic stopped at a full body mirror near the door. He didn't intend to linger there but for a moment, he swore he saw his killer's leer on his own lips. He carefully made the face again, but no deliberate effort produced a halfway decent shock. He left Respawn.

Medic returned to the infirmary to begin post battle examinations. Engineer's injuries healed beautifully although the man himself was tight lipped and wrung his hands obsessively. Scout swaggered in and boasted of his own unequaled grandeur for as long as it took Medic to pry away a hand covering a mound in his arm. He left hunched over and swearing from every orifice as Medic disposed of a chipped syringe needle. Pyro shuffled in softly and left in the same manner. As the door swung behind it, Medic peered into the waiting room. It was empty. The signup sheet had no other mark after Pyro's clumsy signature. Shouting, a sound like an unburdened roar, erupted upstairs as if on cue. He shouldered his equipment and ran.

Even before Medic rounded the corner, tension seized the air from his lungs. Soldier stood with his back to him, raising a chipped equalizer at a towering, beet faced Heavy.

Heavy noticed him first. "DOCTOR!" He shoved past Soldier and clapped two knee buckling hands on Medic's shoulders. He looked him over and patted him down as Medic stammered indignantly and finished with an "Ah, is good."

"But you," he growled, advancing back to Soldier, "y--"

"Try me again, Commie, and I'll give your darling another kiss," he said as Heavy lifted the minigun with his massive arms. A sharp dent disfigured its barrel. The gun met the floor again with a gentle thump before Heavy lumbered forward. Medic charged between the two. "When you kinder finish breaking each other's toys," he started, forcing one away with a hand and the other with the medigun barrel, "meet me downstairs. Some of us can't afford to miss an appointment, ja, Soldat?"

Heavy surveyed the Soldier helmet to heel. He looked the part of a man who had leapt out of hellfire. Everything below the knee marinated in dust and grime. His uniform's modest shade of red was lost under darkening splatters which, if the state of his face was any indication, did not belong exclusively to his enemies. Bruises and lacerations cradled his bloodshot eyes.

"He go first," said Heavy, "Almost dead."

"Hah! Oh no, you oversized barrel of shame, I wouldn't dream of cutting in on your t--"

"Soldier, bitte--"

"--ime with the Nazi," he said, launching the word off his tongue like a whip. Likewise, Medic's palm lashed and struck with enough force to topple the spent man. As the crisp clap exploded in the hall and Soldier struggled to leverage his body on an elbow, Medic ditched the medigun and marched over to kneel over Soldier and seize his frayed and burned and hole-ridden collar with both fists as the barrel clanged on the wooden floor. Heavy stood as he was, frozen and speechless.

"You are..." Medic began aloud, then lowered his mouth to whisper into the man's right ear, brushing his cheek against the already violently red welt on his. "...the most ungrateful bastard of a patient and teammate I have ever had. If you want your good health then you can die for it."

Medic unhanded him. Soldier's eyes stared into his from beneath his chipped helmet and the lines in his face deepened not in fear or loathing but unadulterated surprise. His mouth parted with his slack jaw. The doctor picked up the medigun and turned to leave. As Soldier groaned and clutched his side, two sharp shards of light flitted in a dark room across the hall. As he finally balanced himself on hands and knees, the doctor sighed and called out behind him:

"Es tut mir leid. You should not have watched."

Medic left. Heavy tried several times to weave through Soldier's fists to help him up before leaving as well.

The hall then heard only Soldier's labored breathing. He pressed his fingers against the hand shaped welt before retracting them with a hiss. Two identical wedges of light flashed again from the same room and an erratic clicking became audible. Soldier turned his head and rose so quickly that his eyes rolled into his head and his knees folded. Pyro quietly rushed out sliding and caught Soldier before he objected. His head landed in its lap and rose again just as quickly. Soldier brushed off Pyro's hesitant mumbling and stood, keeping ground under his boots this time but swaying just the same. He hobbled away. Pyro hummed and tapped on a lighter.


"That you, buddy?" Engineer looked up from a disassembled sentry. The clicking came into the workroom shortly before Pyro did. "Don't have too much fun with that thing," said Engineer, "We ain't all fireproof." Pyro looked at him for a moment from those indiscernible black panes and pocketed the lighter. "Sure you don't want a breather? Must be steaming in that thing." Engineer chuckled and rubbed the pads of his thumbs. Pyro shook its head and waved its hands dismissively. The two were silent for a few moments. Engineer took a drink from a lukewarm beer.

He wiped his mouth and whispered conspiratorially, "You do eat, right?" Pyro mumbled an annoyed "Mhm" and walked away. "Ah, I'm sorry I jus'...hell, I don't even know how to thank you." Pyro stopped and turned back. It sat on a workbench opposite Engineer.

"Thought I'd find you a proper shirt or two but I figured you'd object. Was gonna offer a drink but that's out. And then I-- son, are you giggling?"

It was. Pyro's shoulders popped up and down and its muffled laugh almost trilled. Engineer put one hand on his hip and grinned. "You ain't even givin' me a hint, huh?" Pyro laughed again and shook its head vigorously. "Makin' sure I owe you one for a nice long time, that right?" Pyro mumbled something, waved its arms in theatrical confusion and trailed off into silence.

Then nodded.

"We'll see. Don't think that Spy's all yours, now," said Engineer, chuckling as his wrench slipped from his hands and landed with a dull clang. "Ah, hell..."

Pyro moved to sit near Engineer and mimicked the Texan's hand wringing, although it looked more as if its mutinous fingers had slipped from its mind's sovereignty and deployed an aerial assault on its face. "Oh quit posturing, it don't look that bad."

"Mhm."

"Fine, but it ain't compromising my work."

"Mhm."

Engineer glared into the two panes. When he understood that he couldn't stare down an eyeless entity, he sighed and rubbed his hands again. "Did you see that last sentry today? The one I tried to coax out at Overtime?"

Pyro nodded.

"Happened then. I raised them one after the other after the thirty second mark. Had to. Everyone was off picking fights in their own corners while one of the BLU Demos singled me out and cut 'em all down. Usually I'd have Soldier guarding the nest but today..never seen a feller so blood hungry and distracted all at once. What a damned combination. Hope Medic's giving him special treatment 'cause those wounds sure ain't angel kisses." Pyro fumbled with the lighter. "Anyhow," he went on, "wrist locked in my right and the sentry died on me before its first lil' chirp," he said heavily, motioning to the cold metal in front of him. "Didn't want to bother Medic beca-- no, it don't bend that way anymore," he sighed when Pyro tried to budge the wrist.

Engineer watched as Pyro flicked the lighter and warmed its gloves. It put the thing away and took the wrist again, warming it with a rub. It muttered softly and then again, a bit louder. Before Engineer realized that it was a countdown, he gasped at the frightening crack that filled the room when Pyro pulled down. Engineer moved it tentatively, and then again with great vigor and an astonished chuckle, flexing the fingers in the harsh yellow lamplight. He looked over at Pyro, who fumbled with the lighter again. "So. Now it's two I owe you."

"Mhm."


A sharp howl wafted in from the desert. Then a long and mournful one. Scout crouched on the roof, draped in moonlight and singing with wolves. He heard clangs and shouts from inside at one point but howled over them too. When his shivering began skipping his calls like a worn record, he climbed back inside.

Respawning empties the bowels but one doesn't feel one's own seizing gut and burning throat until individual metabolisms sound the alarm. The team rarely eats together after especially violent battles simply because agreeing on one time would starve at least Scout, who is always first to attack his rations. He did so then and left the kitchen having replaced one pain with another, although he greatly preferred the one he created himself.

Scout hobbled around pretending to burst until hearing footsteps from a potential audience. He rounded the corner and would have commenced the act had a filthy hand not shoved him out of the way.

"Hey man, what the he- wow, what happened to YOU?" He ran over to Soldier, who grunted past him with a much more convincing limp. "Battle happened, son."

"Well yeah, cool, battle happens to me too but uh...you gonna wash BLU off your coat or--"

"Son, you march straight to Medic and tell him to scoop the maggots out of your eyes."

"I know it's red I was just--"

"Good man, now open the door."

Scout groaned and held it open for Soldier to stumble through. Looking back at the trail of tracked grime and blood, Scout grimaced and said, "So uhh...doc's still down there, bet he'd love to see you." Soldier gave a gruff "Hah!" and slammed the iron door. Scout pushed his ear against the metal.

"You know, I was scared of needles once too but now I--"

Soldier pounded the door from inside and it struck Scout's cheekbone. Scout jumped away and kicked it, rubbing his cheek. He sat in front of the door, periodically bouncing the back of his head on the knob. "Man, I don't even know who to play ball with around here. Engie's hangin' around the river monster all the time and Medic's droolin' over the new killing machine. Though he's always been a little...uh, scary, ya know? I mean, you've been buddies forever so that probably sounds stupid and, well this is gonna sound pretty freakin' dumb too but I had this dream once where uh... heh well, I'm being beat up pretty bad, uh...by...."

The door creaked open. Scout rose quickly and peeked in. Soldier squinted at him as if he intended to extract the boy's thoughts with his eyes alone. "Medic."

"Y-yeah! How'd you--"

"He informed you that this was a dream."

Scout traded in his sheepish grin for a furrowed brow and a hesitant, "Well, yeah, he--"

"'Course he did. I remember my dream too."


Chapter 23


Medic prepared twice the necessary material for his next appointment. He dug through cabinets and emptied shelves searching for the more monstrously sized equipment and finally flicked the knob that rang a bell in the waiting room. Heavy walked in as silently as a man of his stature can and sat on the padded table, depressing it all the way to its metal base. "There we go..." Medic muttered to himself as he began. All vitals were sound. "Now," Medic began, feeling one broad arm for bullet mounds, "Just try and tell me you did not approach him first." He positioned the medigun on an overhead mechanical cradle and slipped the lever under a metal guard to keep the fumes churning. Heavy remained motionless as Medic massaged a bullet out with his fingers while the pale red vapor molded the broken skin.

"I did."

Medic pushed out another and curtly asked why.

"I saw."

The bullet clinked loudly in the metal basin. Medic silently rested his hands on the massive forearm and sighed. "Alright, you need to know. He and I arrived on the same train. For the sake of braving unfamiliarity, I pocketed him from the very first mission. He habitually panicked and launched himself from heavy fire without me for years before I stole the Blutsauger from my BLU admirer and returned the favor. When he groveled for my services again, I returned. When we learned to care for the other as if Respawn was a flimsy dream, we dominated." He paused abruptly as if a particular memory took all mental function to appreciate. "But he wanted to command. Even in the train, he regulated my meals and authorized rest in between making my ears bleed listening to his plans then and every night after...but I cannot say I didn't dream with him."
The bright lamps hummed over them. A feather capsized and drifted into the medigun fumes, swirling inside them before coming to a stop on Heavy's broad shoulder. Medic brushed it off. "His dream was destroyed as brutally and suddenly as the team was. Respawn didn't always work after hours, you understand. I'll show you their files, if you'd like," said Medic, face burning as a smile erupted on his lips without warning, "The company wanted them destroyed immediately but I made duplicates from memory. They were confiscated five times over before they let me be. I knew every one of those men," he said, tone softening as he glanced over Heavy's chest, "inside and out."

"I don't know how long we fought alone. The poor wretch referred to me in the plural for so long that I feared the day when he would tear me in two and demand the halves to flank the enemy." Heavy laughed raucously and Medic grinned. "You should have seen him when Engineer and Scout joined us. Approved of Engineer instantly and Scout not long after. We had a team that needed a leader. But not now."
"Why?"

Medic moved to the other arm, smoothing out a nasty pistol round in a finger joint and asked, "Would you let him command you?" Heavy thought as the bullet shifted out of a ligament under the pressing fingers. "If he is good leader, yes."

"You see? The correct answer is an immediate, unconditional Sir, yes Sir."

"You do not say this."

"He wouldn't dare expect it from me."

"Why should I say this?"

Medic laughed. "Because if he finds any more reason to hate you, his anger will melt the base to the ground."

"Doctor, I... I am not Communist."

"Did you think he actually cares?"

This surprised him. Medic turned the finger with the stubborn bullet and opened and closed his mouth several times as if the words were as reluctant to make an exit as the bullet. He inhaled deeply and said, "He is jealous beyond reason. I am pocketing you."

"Two times!"

"And two too many."

Heavy shook his head and his words rumbled straight from the belly. "Is no excuse. Do not help team? Is bad. Do not help doctor? Is..." Medic waited, eyes grounded on the delicate joint, but the pause persisted. Heavy grabbed Medic's forearm with his other hand, covering it nearly elbow to wrist. Medic tried to pry it away and would have had more success doing the same with a titanium vice. He looked up. Heavy faced him with grave eyes and leaned forward.

"I think there are two," he whispered awkwardly, pointing to the finger. Medic resumed breathing and nodded, smiling reassuringly and lowering the medigun until its rim rested on the finger. "Doctor, why these bullets stay in? Others come out like rain."

"Ja, they pour. I'm surprised one still hasn't popped out of your back and punctured my eye." Heavy laughed heartily and seemed not to notice another clink. Medic showed him the basin. "Just one," Heavy moaned. Medic laughed. "Don't insult me, bitte, that would've been infected within the hour. It's worth five. Shirt off, I'm sure there's enough metal in your trunk to replace Sascha's barrel."

Heavy did as told and lay on his back, beaming at the first mention of his beloved gun by name until he understood the sentence around it. "How?" He asked with a sudden concern. Medic moved the medigun over his chest and explained excitedly, his gesticulating arms doing much of the talking, "Large bullets, thick skin, thicker muscle...where else? And if it enters the ribcage? Oh, surely if you want to sleep tonight you'll need s-surgery--" Medic clapped a hand over his mouth. "Ach, I forget myself; there's always controlled Respawning now that...the systems work night and day," he said, nevertheless taking the singular opportunity to move his trembling hands over the thick skin from curving clavicle to hard sternum, fingers undulating over the ribcage. Heavy inhaled deeply, pushing the traveling hands up with the soft belly.

"Okay."

Medic frowned. "Okay, what?"

"Do surgery, is faster."

Medic slowly and deliberately took what he could of Heavy's massive jaw and turned his head to face him. Although it was no conscious intention, his voice assumed a tone more intimate than a lover's. "You are telling me to operate."

"No good?"

"To split your skin and open your chest."

"Doctor if you do not want to, I--"

"To observe your heart's violet blush and part your ribs like a pale flower and..."

Heavy stared him into silence, cheek burning as the doctor's other bare, bloodied hand swept over his temple, his cheekbone, and down the line of his jaw as if these things were suddenly far more fascinating than they should be. Medic stared back, motionless save for the hand's straying touch. Heavy propped himself on an elbow. "Doctor, make poem later. Take out bullets."

Heavy left the infirmary three hours later, not exactly regretting his demand but not imagining for a moment the enthusiasm with which the doctor would oblige him. The flimsy floorboards vowed mutiny under his boots as he strolled past the others' rooms and exhaled the medigun fumes coursing through him. On the field, a buff retards immediate injury and keeps one alert, but a constant vigilance isn't preferable. Heavy smirked and remembered Medic's anecdote of a colleague so engrossed in his work that he buffed himself for five consecutive days before neglecting to do so for a few measly minutes, collapsing instantly from exhaustion and sitting out the next ten missions on bed rest. He had asked Medic if he had ever done anything similar for the team and received a nervous laugh and dismissive wave in reply. It was enough.

He slowed his pace at Soldier's door but decided against a truce just yet. The image of the man fully armed and maliciously observing his own doctor's murder still festered in his immediate memory. He continued but soon caught his foot on something soft and nearly tripped before catching the low ceiling with an outstretched hand. Scout swore lazily and opened one eye. At seeing the giant, he leapt up and almost made it into his room if not for Heavy's large fist lifting him off the floor by the back of his collar.

"HEY!"

"Why little man not sleeping? Want to stay little?"

"I WAS sleeping, ya dumb--"

"Big men sleep on beds. Yours too high? Should I make crib?"

"Oh look who's yappin', why the hell are YOU walkin' around?"

Heavy put him down. "Just finished." Scout rubbed his neck and pointed down. "You mean...with the doc? What took so long?"

"We play chess and laugh at baby man."

"Oh, screw you, fatty. But really, wha--"

"Surgery. What?" Heavy prodded the suddenly guffawing Scout, sending him stumbling back two feet but snickering even more obnoxiously. "Sure the doc didn't need it more?" He said, elbowing Heavy in the ribs. Heavy glared at him confusedly and left with a shout of "Go to bed" over his shoulder. Scout ran to catch up and bounced a baseball off the ceiling as he walked. "But hey, it ain't so bad! If you're down with it, he'll leave the rest of us alone! Shit, this is great! The guy's on some high when he scrubs in, I heard." "Heard from who?" "Soldier."

Heavy stopped abruptly, leaving Scout to march forward a few paces until he looked back and caught the falling ball with his skull. Heavy waited out the torrent of expletives. "What else Soldier say?" Scout looked up and waved his hand lazily, "Well, I told him to go to the doc but he wouldn't and then he started yakkin' about him; it ain't that impor--"

"What did he say?"

"Okay okay I'm talkin' - he grunted a lot and spat blood everywhere and all I got was he ain't keen on Medic undermining him or something. Said he's the best partner he's ever had but he'll deny it to death - the real one, I guess? - if he keeps babyin' the river monster and...well...you."

Heavy looked down at Scout for a moment, then with a silent nod turned to leave.

"HEY!" Scout ran to keep pace with him. "Ain't gonna let you fly so soon; you got your answers, now I want mine." "Go to bed." "So hey, is Sascha free tonight? Been thinkin' of taking her out for a sweet candle lit steak di--"

Heavy swung one arm, caught Scout at the waist and pinned him to the wall in one fluid movement. Scout stammered and closed his eyes as his feet kicked wildly several inches from the floor. He cringed and turned away as Heavy leaned in nostrils flaring, mouth poised for a death threat and said:

"Okay, what you want?"

He dropped Scout again, who crumpled to the floor before springing back up and throwing a barely registered punch. "Okay, manhandling aside, I just gotta know - you know animals uh, well they all look....pretty similar, right? I mean, you'd have to be some crazy forest guy to tell between two wolves just like that, right?"

"Maybe."

"Well...isn't that kinda what we got goin' on? I didn't really see it 'til BLU Heavy came in but...you two are...pretty similar, yaknow?"

"No. BLU Heavy is stupid. Aims gun like drunk baby."

"Yeah yeah but I mean how he looks, I guess if he had a red shirt on...sorry man but I wouldn't know who's who."

"Did little Scout read book?"

"What b-- oh, THAT book, hah of course not, why would I--"

"Scout is stupid, should read book. Says right there on page 549 section 6 subsection 2 part 1 article G6R12 in teeny tiny letters under picture of funny man with mustache bigger than shorts. Not enough people? They make clones. No big deal."

"WHAT?!"

"Quiet, base is sleeping."

"No one told me that!"

"Next you will say no one tell you about Respawn."

"Who told y-- you know what, shut up, fatcakes. Oh man, oh man..." Scout tore at his hair and ran back to his room. Heavy looked after him and chuckled. Funny kid, he thought.


The doctor shook with every movement. Every breathe rattled, every step was a clumsy stumble and his eyes treated him to spontaneous fireworks that made it just short of a miracle that he found his way back to his room. Just as in the last base, his was two floors higher than the rest of the team, an arrangement mandated by the company as an additional precaution against unpleasant surprises for the team's resident High Value Target. In any case, that was the official explanation. Medic closed the door behind him. The lock softly clicked into place.

One often finds that when at last they begin, endure and complete an impossible task, they do so with a vague numbness in the chest as if the mind demands the body to kindly wait its turn to react to its seemingly ethereal triumph. Medic leaned on the closed door and shut his eyes but no, the vibrant maelstroms in his inner eyelids' usual black void were no greater comfort. He opened them again, silently letting his frantic heart exhaust its jackhammer impression. He looked at his hands, only minutes ago buried in living flesh.

He had rummaged elbow deep and the most worrying response the man spared was a yawn. When Heavy half jokingly suggested that he bring a book next time, Medic abandoned caution entirely and offered his own entertainment. The doctor apologized profusely when one story gave the man such a good time that his arching back bucked Medic's hands into a nerve, but Heavy had only laughed at his own sudden jolt and again at the story and demanded more.

The spasmodic heartbeat soon introduced a throbbing in his ears, a guest Medic welcomed by managing to reach his bed blind and deaf and sitting to wait out the internal assault as his swelling chest expanded much farther than it should with every straining breathe. As the pounding ebbed, a thought crawled out of the turbulent euphoria.

I found him.


Chapter 24


He couldn't remember what roused him. Medic dressed absently, wandered to the window and opened it to clear the cold sweat from his skin. Dark clouds hovered in front of a waking sky, its searing gold aching to spill out of the horizon. A lone Soldier's agonized silhouette trudged into the burning landscape. Medic couldn't see his state in great detail but he didn't need to. He knew. He knew that he had shambled to the infirmary and budged the unlocked door. He knew he had seen the flickering lamp showcasing everything Medic had prepared to prevent his sleepless night. He knew he had slammed it shut enraged at the show of pity and convinced himself that the might of his will alone would conquer the pain. Medic knew that silent nights are far more unforgiving than that.

He stopped. A shaking arm rose to his face and then jerked away. Medic watched as the sun clawed out of the horizon and danced with the metal pin in the man's mouth before the explosion ravaged the earth and melted into the rising sun. Ten seconds later, the Respawn door slid open. Never had such an ideal reversal and act of revenge revolted the doctor more savagely than then.
>> No. 1163
Ohgodyes
>> No. 1165
This is so good
>> No. 1167
I am first going to say I've been following this fic since it was first posted, and loved every second of it.

However, I feel I should point out, you need a new paragraph for ever speaker. Please, please, please don't get into this habit of having multiple speakers without breaks. I've been told by someone who did this constantly on a different website that they did it to make the paragraphs bigger, because they just looked too small. It's okay for a paragraph to be a single line of dialogue, so long as it can easily be understood who's saying it. Even if that line is just one single word.

This kind of thing bugs the shit out of me, because it's such a basic rule of grammar. Seems like people only break it, not because they don't know any better, but because they want their stories to be wider, not longer. If that makes sense. Hope I didn't ramble too much.
>> No. 1168
Oh no I didn't know it was that rampant
Figured it was alright in moderation when Asimov pulled it off.
Thanks for the heads up, Minty.
>> No. 1232
Chapter 25

"Ma'am, there's a conflict downstairs. Should I take care of it?"

"No, Ms. Pauling, that's only a brute ringing the doorbell."

Crashing glass and spooked screams trailed from below and then up a flight of stairs before magnificently depositing its source at the Announcer's feet in the form of a burly Australian sliding in on the iron door he had just kicked out of its hinges. Saxton Hale disembarked and immediately assumed a manner as grave as a nearly nude, property damaging Australian can exude.

"Helen, I've got a dilemma."

"And now, so do the janitors."

"I have uncovered a contradiction among men! A scoundrel! An abomination! A queer mutation of an Australian!"

The Announcer exhaled a cloud of smoke at him. "Does this queer mutation frighten my workers and destroy my doors?"
He waved one broad Australian arm to relieve the grey cloud of the consequences of making unauthorized contact with his face. "Alas no, my dear, or else I wouldn't have mistaken him for a dirty hippy and--"

"Please don't gift wrap a mangled man for me again."

"Ah but you'll love this one - found him right 'ere," he said, pointing to a spot on the hairy but convenient likeness of Australia on his chest, "and boy did that dingo put up a fight - from miles away. Get too close and he's as potent as a babe but as alarming as a wart on my--"

"Get to the point, Mr. Hale."

"I don't know who bound and shaved the poor man but I won't have clean lipped rebels polluting my cornea so I'll hand him over to you, Helen. Throw 'im in the dog fights you croon over; show that destitute animal a good time." Saxton Hale procured a folder from who-knows-where, gave it to Ms. Pauling and kicked down another door on his way out. Ms. Pauling flipped through the man's files.

The Announcer put out her cigarette. "Slip that folder into Redmond's mail. Make sure he reads it."

Ms. Pauling looked up and adjusted her glasses. "But this will even the teams completely now that one BLU Medic just went AWOL and two of their four Demomen quit to..."

"I am aware, Ms. Pauling."

"So then...are we not testing the pair anymore?"

"I've had my fun." The Announcer turned to two screens among the dozens that recorded the mercenaries' whereabouts. RED Medic watched the sunrise. RED Soldier prepared ammunition for the day's mission. "They have managed to exceed my expectations."

"And our...field agent?"

"Do bring that folder to Mister Redmond before the end of time, Ms. Pauling."

Ms. Pauling apologized furiously and crept away. Before she left through the hole in the wall previously occupied by a door, The Announcer sighed and called out: "We will wait until this petty quarrel quiets down. Once I am satisfied that RED won't fall apart without a mediating double agent, we will discontinue him."

"His services, you mean?"

"No, my dear. Him."
>> No. 1241
Oh dear, this update has me hooked as always! Better yet, you seem to have corrected the issues regarding paragraph structure that others have pointed out in previous posts. Short, but great work nonetheless.
>> No. 1327
Chapter 26

The watch gleamed in the morning light. It popped open silently and closed with a click. The chain rattled softly as a gloved finger ran down its golden links. He had stubbornly avoided using the thing even when abandoning the flimsy revolver entirely for the wrist snapping Ambassador. He couldn't anymore. The watch wouldn't leave him be since his mind last parted from his melting flesh and fleetingly admitted in the Respawn void that he would rather die than feel a flame's hungry lick again. Spy pocketed the thing and dressed, meticulously ironing a shirt, polishing his shoes and smoothing wrinkles out of his vest and suit jacket for another day at war.

His hand hovered over the knob as footsteps approached. The right foot produced a slightly harder tap, and the left dragged its heel. Of course. As soon as he connected pattern to person, the taps stopped. The door blurred under the vibration of three knocks. Spy's right hand flew to his left wrist of its own volition and desperately palmed the suddenly unobstructed skin for the old watch. He cursed the Dead Ringer already and opened the door.

Spy held the new watch in his suit jacket as he welcomed his visitor. "Ah, doctor! Will I leave my room in nine pieces this time or ten?"

"You'll leave in flayed strips if you don't show your face outside. Strange, I can't remember a day when you didn't delay the entire team," said the BLU Medic, idly swinging in one hand a monstrous syringe attached to a blade. Spy slipped out of the room and locked the door without letting the inhumane thing out of his sight. Medic grinned viciously.

"Ach, but you understand knives; of course this would paralyze you in awe," he said, adjusting his stride to Spy's and stroking the syringe's long, thick needle, "Unfortunately, there is only one other like it and unless you politely ask my RED friend for his before I relieve him of his bowels, tsk, well..." Medic sighed and shrugged dramatically, sliding the broad side of the Ubersaw flush across the man's chest and hungrily watching the sudden stiffness in his step and tensing neck beneath the balaclava. "...you will have to make do with that toothpick of a weapon."

Spy snorted and made to outpace the doctor. "When you can find the Heavy's spine under the morbid mountain of fat on his back and end him with one thrust, you will not need to overcompensate either."

Medic turned mid-stride and slammed him bodily into the wall, one hand at the throat and the other needing the slightest twitch to break through the skin at his cheek. Medic's canines gleamed in the low light as he leaned in far too much and in all the wrong places. He whispered, "But what fun is there in one thrust?"

"Plenty," Spy said and jerked his face to one side, ripping his face on the blade from nose to ear and slumping in the doctor's arms. Medic gasped at the sudden dead weight and dropped to his knees to find a pulse with wild fingers.

The BLU Demomen jumped at the watch's explosive metallic ring; one reflexively swung his bottle and the other yelled as it clanged on his skull. The rest of the team waited around the grounds as Spy finally stepped outside and uncloaked under the sun. The BLU Soldier approached him, growling softly, and shoved his shovel under the Frenchman's chin, lifting it to catch sunlight on the furiously bleeding slash. He laid a heavy arm across Spy's shoulder and walked him away from the others. "Third time this week. Face it, Frenchie, you're his favorite now."

Spy shrugged the arm off and soaked the cut with a pale handkerchief. "Shaving accident."

"Uh huh. Where's the doc?"

One Demoman groaned and called out, "Wot bloody difference does 'e make? Bastard probably forgot HOW to heal the lot of us so why the bloody 'ell--" he said, punctuating himself by chucking his bottle to the ground and shattering all but its neck, "--should we wait on 'im? If he hadn't spooked the other doc, we w--"

"The 'other doc' fled like a rat. He abandoned this team," said Soldier and saluted their one remaining Medic as he stumbled out of the base wide eyed and pale. "BLU leaves no man behind," Soldier announced before loading his shotgun, shouldering his launcher and leading the team to its next assignment. The Demoman grabbed his broken bottle and followed. Medic gaped dumbly at Spy as he turned to leave as well, but not before Spy treated him to a sickeningly wide grin and dangled the Dead Ringer in his livid face.

Spy soon overtook Soldier and the outspoken Demoman on the short walk to the mission grounds. The Demoman kept his grumbling reasonably civil until Soldier smelled dissent again.

"...never answers t' Medic in a pinch...why call 'im one at all, then?...my doc was better than this quack..."

Soldier turned his head sharply. "I don't like repeating myself, Cyclops. He was a traitor."

"Ye know which doc I meant."

Soldier commanded the rest to march onward while he roughly took the Demoman aside. Spy's wrist rose the moment he considered doubling back under a cloak to listen to the exchange. He glared at the arm as if scolding it for reminding him that he was as much a man of habit as any other.

The fat bomb sat just beyond the gates. BLU had failed to deliver it to RED's base for several days and after a thorough verbal lashing, the Announcer ordered them to Rush the bloated present past a series of smaller territories and into another stockpile of RED's black Gold.

A small track of land separated the gates from their temporary Respawn. BLU prepared there as the countdown began. Spy glanced over the lone Heavy, the pacing Medic, the sentry, and the Soldier barking orders at the Demomen. Spy slowly turned back to the sentry. He approached the hallucination as if cornering a rattler before giving the knee high, flashing thing a kick. It was real.

A very familiar wheezing laugh assaulted his ears. A cold, heavy hand clapped his back and an equally familiar yellow hardhat, rough overalls and pair of shining eyes sidled up beside him and the sentry.

"Cut lil' gun, ain't it? Ah, where are my manners? I'll be your Engineer, partner; hope you don't mind havin' me," he said. He shook Spy's left hand with his own.

"Oh, I've been having at your RED half for quite some time. I don't think I will mind 'having' another," Spy said, malicious grin so potent that it carried in his voice. Engineer's broad smile fell instantly and his right hand shot up to yank Spy's tie and bring the man's face level with his. Thirty seconds.

"I'm no yuppy, boy, an' if you lay half a goddamned finger on my work, this team ain't gonna see their handsome sweet talker for a long, long time," he said. They remained unmoving for another moment, neither interested in looking away although Spy did catch a fleeting glance at the metal hand strangling his tie. The Texan was so courteous as to shake his hand with his left to avoid scratching his leather gloves with the crude wired paw and casually delivered a death threat a breath or two later. Despite all the lies he fed to others and the many more indoctrinated into himself, he couldn't admit that he wasn't impressed.

Engineer laughed and gave him a playful jab, destroying the tension with the ease of a man who had not known a grudge in his life. "Good man. Never break eye contact. Now just what do you do for us? Soldier didn't mention you in the briefing, jus' told me to hightail it here to set up."

Ten seconds. Spy exhaled a thin string of smoke. "I am never in their plans, monsieur, and I return the favor. I have no obligations. I am free." Five seconds.

"Can't say I'd like that. Must be lonesome."

Four.

"I doubt it can be helped."

Three.

"I'll take that bet."

Two.

Spy looked the man up and down and then at the left tunnel that led around the impending massacre of the front lines. Engineer didn't wait for an answer.

They crept through the tunnel, passed the opened gate and ran under a groaning scaffolding complex that took them behind the maelstrom of shouting and gunfire. Engineer followed him halfway before turning back and calling out over the din:

"Be right there, pardner, gotta hide our trail!"

Spy nodded absently, disguised as a Pyro and followed his ears to his prize. He found the lonely picturesque nest in the doorway of a shack leaning on the scaffolding and leapt up the stairs. His heart slammed in his throat. RED Engineer looked away from the RED Pyro giving a thumbs up through a window and to the spooked Pyro in front of him. His hand hovered over his pistol holster. A nearby blast spooked him; he drew the gun and fired.

Pain erupted and pulsed out of his shoulder as Spy dodged a swung wrench and disabled all three buildings. The two danced in and out of the crackling nest as RED pulled away from BLU's savage push. The teleporter screeched before crumbling after the dispenser. Spy and Engineer fell on the sentry.

Thinking an especially large snapped wire heralded its collapse, Spy flipped his balisong and leapt into the house over the sputtering sentry to treat himself to Engineer's exposed back. He raised the knife. The sapper snapped off with a metallic crunch and Engineer hopped aside.

Whatever remained of his body fell to the ground, eviscerated to the bone by gunfire and rockets. The Dead Ringer trembled in his unsteady hands as the sentry swiveled back to fire into the thickening combat outside. The sentry and Engineer himself obstructed the only door. Heart hammering in his ears, he aimed the Ambassador at the hardhat and waited for the cacophonous uncloaking. Spy was no stranger to suicide missions.

"Hey, Tex!"

RED Engineer answered the call by brandishing his shotgun to strafe and fire at someone beyond the sentry's range as Spy uncloaked, threw a sapper on the sentry and slammed the knife to the hilt into the RED's back. BLU Engineer winced at the dying sentry as the two fled to another set of gates beside the first point, rigged to open when the cart rides past it. Once they hid behind several crates and waited for BLU to ride the cart past the first capture point, Engineer elbowed Spy's arm and whistled.

"You slimy snake, I didn't see you comin' til the poor feller hit the ground."

Spy raised a brow and gushed in falsetto, "Oh no, too principled for the job?"

Engineer chuckled softly. "You ain't seen nothin'," he said, and led Spy through the opened gate as BLU scattered after the first point under RED's redoubled defense. "Boy, let me teach you a thing or two about bein' sneaky."

The alternate route took them around the front lines again. A two building complex separated them from RED's spawn once they entered the area and a footbridge spanned the two structures. Engineer slung a gun on it and ran to the opposite end of the territory with a hunk of metal as Spy disguised and fell writhing to the floor near the gun in one of the buildings as per their agreement. The sentry fired briefly at the first man to walk out of Respawn before disappearing in a hail of bullets. Spy swore at his luck, gripped his watch and envisioned a more vivid hole ridden corpse with every lumbering step.

"Doctor?"

Spy opened one eye. The looming Russian was all he saw of the world.

"Ja, I - I didn't see zhe gun until...until it vas too--"

"Okay, we go to dispenser," he rumbled. He lifted the BLU Spy and draped him over his back with a disarming delicacy. As the RED Heavy carried him to the second nest, Spy caught the BLU Engineer creeping away from a teleporter set in a crook of a stone outcrop directly opposite them. Spy buried his face in the Heavy's back to drown his laughter. They were not three feet from the growing nest when the RED Engineer came back with metal. He frowned at the wounded doctor.

"Doc, whe-" He stopped. His eyes burned into the bullet wound in Spy's shoulder.

Spy watched with Ambassador hidden but poised as Engineer's hand fell to his holster again. However, he turned his head before drawing. His eyes were likely drawn to a whirling blue blur. Heavy also turned, offering Spy a fantastic view of his Engineer slinging a second gun in front of the teleporter and unhooking from his belt some device that coated it in a blue sphere.

RED Engineer whipped out the pistol only to yell as a blue laser wrangled the sentry's fire across the field to knock it out of his hand and slice through his skull. Heavy began to set his doctor down but collapsed entirely, quaking the earth with the unrestrained drop. Spy pulled the balisong from his back and sapped the nest before the sentry swiveled to him. He disguised again and called for Medic with his victim's sonorous rumble. The RED Medic flew back from the front lines with his BLU counterpart spraying syringes at his heels and trailing coat. The RED latched the medigun on Spy instantly and hid behind him. BLU Medic stopped just short of crashing into his teammate.

Spy shook his head. He mouthed a "LEAVE." He pleaded into the grey eyes. BLU Medic met the desperate glare with a warm smile and wordlessly slammed the Ubersaw into Spy's gut. BLU Engineer gawked and fired warning shots at his Medic's feet, his echoing shout of "YOU MONGREL!" carrying across the field.

BLU Medic pulled it out with an audible tearing of the flesh and turned to the BLU Engineer as RED Medic berated his gasping patient. "What are you doing?!" he yelled, "Kill him, kill the bastard!" He gestured to the BLU Medic so vehemently that his glasses fell askew. RED's Soldier and Scout destroyed BLU's offense and retreated.

Spy blinked away the searing white flashes in his eyes and recovered his breath.

RED Medic watched the mask with his Heavy's likeness on it crumple to the ground as the revealed Spy shoved the RED Soldier aside on his way to grip the back of BLU Medic's neck for leverage and slide the balisong so forcefully into his spine that even the BLU Engineer spared an empathetic grimace as he ducked under Scout's swung bat. The RED Soldier faltered at the absurd scene, watched the BLU Spy shove the doctor's corpse into the arms of his own Medic and wave away the last wisp of the medigun beam retracting from his sealed wound. The pale wisp crept back into the medigun in the arms of his mutinous doctor. "You worm," he seethed at him, "Healing a goddamned SPY."

RED Medic recovered instantly, threw the BLU's body at Soldier's feet and yelled hoarsely, "How could I have known? He saved me!" He rode the surge of affronted fervor to its end and spat an addendum: "Verdammt, I trust him more than you."

Medic's face locked in fear even before he finished. Thoroughly staggered by the outburst, Spy sputtered on his cigarette and ran. Soldier addressed the getaway with a single malicious rocket before moving back to Medic and savagely hooking his Equalizer behind the doctor's neck to pull him aside. Spy, cloaked again, walked around Scout's bullet infested body as it fell to the earth courtesy of the wrangled gun. Two BLU Demomen and a Heavy appeared in quick succession from the BLU teleporter as the RED Soldier threw Medic to the ground in full view of the newly respawned RED Heavy. Spy left the impending massacre and retreated to RED's Respawn doors.

He turned the corner and leaned against the stout building, waiting out the explosive ring that seemed to roar over the rising crescendo of rockets and bombs and gunfire. He turned to the right and immediately drew his gun.

The man wasn't armed. His PDA holster was empty. He held his hardhat in one hand and leaned against the building, arms crossed and staring ahead vacantly. Spy kept his grip on the drawn Ambassador and faced him, touching the cold, business end of the gun between the man's eyes. The RED Texan closed them.

Spy did not care for this invitation and snatched his hardhat instead. "Monsieur," he started morosely, and put the helmet back on Engineer's head, "I'm afraid you have the disease as well."

Engineer took it off again. His tone just barely retained the appropriate amount of disdain required when speaking to a BLU. "What disease?"

"The disease of incompetence."

Engineer frowned and lifted his goggles. "Tell me why I shouldn't cut this pleasantry short right now."

"You have waited this long." Spy ground his spent cigarette into the earth and reached for another. He offered one to Engineer, who refused. Scout bolted out of Respawn without noticing either of them, his severed arm flying back a few moments later.

"The day's yours. No use tryin' to ride a dead horse."

Spy exhaled. "Do you like my Engineer? Clever man," he said as Engineer coughed and waved the smoke away, "And the day is ours because he made it so." Scout leapt out of Respawn again and returned to the skirmish. His charred foot tumbled back.

Spy shrugged and patted the closely shaved head. "If you are so helpless," he said in a sickeningly sweet falsetto, "I may even offer a truce if you beg fo--"

Engineer grabbed the hand on his head with one hand and jerked Spy's tie with the other. The despondent pose and vacant stare became pleasant memories.

"What a fixation you Engineers have with ties--"

"Quiet, ya rat. I suppose I have to thank you, pardner; you've done opened my eyes. Stooping so low that I'd get pity deals from vermin like you, now that don't sit right with me. You sure bet I'll keep fightin'. And don't you dare hold back," he said as a bell dinged at the cart's successful arrival, "or I'll find and gun down your sorry ass myself."

Spy nodded raised a crackling Ambassador, touching the now hot barrel to the man's forehead. "Forgive me," he said, and cocked back the safety as his team's whoops and cheers grew closer, "but if they blow you up here, you would never get out of my suit."

He fired.

The evening's festivities were a good distraction, but the BLU Engineer still searched for him. Maybe he wanted to thank him. Confront their baffling doctor together. Share a drink. He was that kind of man. Spy wasn't. Spy stole away across the arid plain to the stronghold BLU would ride into in the morning. Before the sun set, a sizable pile of hurriedly copied schematics lay on the RED Engineer's desk.
>> No. 1332
I'm not totally sure what's going on but I like it! Soldier's such a bastard. Of COURSE he was healing a spy, a good spy can even trick a medic.
>> No. 1333
Oh also, I love the part about the scout rushing out of Respawn and a body part flying back.
>> No. 1335
I was just thinking, earlier today, how much I wanted this story to update. And sure enough, I check to re-read what's been posted so far because it's just that good, BAM there's an update!

This fic is definitely my favorite of the chan. I've never gotten so invested in a story. I find myself cursing, laughing, groaning as I read and I love it.

My only little nitpick is that you consistently drop hyphens in compound words, which can muddle descriptions. Like, "paranoia induced" should be "paranoia-induced" and so on. That's the only example I remembered, but I'm fairly certain there were others.

That's an awfully minor thing though, certainly doesn't detract from my immense enjoyment. I'm looking forward to further updates!
>> No. 1343
>>29
I actually found it kinda sad, the way Scout kept leaping back in the fray so mindlessly again and again almost as if out of desperation.

Interesting in how we see from Blu Team's POV this time.
Like how we got a Gunslinging Wrangler Engie on the Blu Team, he seems amicable enough, even if he does have his moments of sorta creepiness.

Poor Red Engie though, it just wasn't a good day for him. The fact that he recovered from his BSOD moment and is now determined not to go down without a fight cheers me, but I do worry.
And the moment when Soldier finds out Medic's accidentally been healing a spy does not help Medic's current predicament with Solly.
But I am a little confused, why did Blu Medic when stabbity on Blu Spy? From his reaction, I think he knew it was Spy, but he went ahead anyway. Was it out of spite? Payback for earlier when Spy was using the Dead Ringer?
But yay! Now Red Engie has new toys! Can't wait to see how he deals with both Blu Spy and Blu Engie.
>> No. 1347
>>31
What's BSOD mean again?

I figured Blu Medic was just being a dick about earlier as well.
>> No. 1351
>>32
Blue Screen of Death
something I'm way too familiar with.
>> No. 1526
WARNING: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC
WARNING: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC
WARNING: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC

Dear med student anon whose jimmies I rustled by waking Scout in the middle of a surgery earlier in TTMTT,
I hope you enjoyed Meet the Medic.

Sincerely,
I hope you enjoy this too.



Chapter 27

The world was a black void drowned in white noise. His ears pressed flush against his head and his eyelids refused to budge under a thick cloth that wrapped around his head and bound his eyes shut. His mouth was unobstructed but a sound not made was a degree more comforting than one made and unheard. He gagged into the putrid air heavy with the stench of rotting meat.

RED couldn't have caught him. He was sure he had returned in time for a wash and a shave before bed. He even recalled the flickering sensation of silken sheets and smooth desert breezes enveloping his tired body as he retired for the night. He swallowed thickly. Sweat beaded on his skin as the disparity between his awakening senses and stubbornly unresponsive limbs fed a wild panic in his pounding heart. He thought he heard a violin's somber wail somewhere in his timeless haze. A violent shiver thrashed his body.

Shh. The whole room is trembling with you.

The disembodied voice echoed raucously in his skull out of the headset strangling his ears. Spy may have yelled. Groaned. Made some pitiful sound. The German's playful drawl was cause enough.

You poor child.

A warm hand hovered over his face but came no closer. He knew it was there, the small island of warmth in a cripplingly cold sea. He shivered again and groaned jerkily as sensation announced its return with dull stings racing through his flesh as if sentient barbs burrowed through their supple nest of meat and gristle and bone. The hand eased the balaclava from his neck and pressed.

It was no hand. They were lips. Spy turned his head almost unnoticeably despite his herculean effort to cringe away. A hand cupped the back of his head in response and pushed the throbbing artery against the warm lips. Wisps of hair teased his face and hot, rhythmic breaths swept over his neck and eased his trembling. "Doctor," he said, straining to hear his own carefully chosen words in the noiseless void, "...h-how are you, monsieur?"

Fantastic. And you?

"Blind and deaf, if you can imagine. S-surely a man of your infinite skill can help me?"

Silence.

"You've already n-noted my heart rate, so I assume..."

Pure, pristine silence.

The hand fell away and the mouth followed. Cold, dry air poured back in to reclaim its clammy territory. He was alone again. Sensation continued to return in a heady but unhurried flow.

His head, previously caught in a balancing act between his neck's stiff muscles, finally listed to one side and swayed. His fleeting preconception of gravity was severed in that one singular movement until two dull points on his back began to pulse, lazily but insistently. He groaned, realizing that he had mistaken his own taut skin for a solid surface. He was not lying down. He was hanging.

"M-Monsieur Medic is a fisherman, it seems."

Ah, what perception!

"The sensation of two m-massive hooks in o-one's back is a unique one, I'm afraid." The moment he acknowledged them, the specter of the two immaculate curving monstrosities stormed his mind. No. That would be unlike him. They would be crumbling from rust, crawling with tetanus and skewered so haphazardly that it may have taken him several tries before finally isolating a strip of flesh on his mangled back they wouldn't tear straight through.

Spy suddenly laughed as he would at his own clever jest at a black tie dinner party. Oh, but this isn't so different, he mused. He must have merely passed out from the festivities and struck a tête-à-tête with the devil. He couldn't decide which scenario was less absurd. Spy cleared his throat and attempted to restrain his undignified stutter.

"Why the aversion to t-tables, doctor? Are you not afraid the hooks will strip my skin right from m-my back?"

Don't be such a baby. Anything under fifty pounds is unlikely to tear.

Spy gasped, heart aching at the number. "Doctor," he muttered breathlessly, voice falling apart in his throat, "I am w-well beyond that n-number."

Not anymore.

The ache ruptured into a chest seizing convulsion. He screamed and swore and made whatever sound that continued to destroy his scorching throat while his ears still registered only his maddening pulse in his ears. A warm trickle slid down his back, no doubt a result of the amateur skewering. All trace of it disappeared past a shoulder blade. "No," he mumbled, "No, you lying wretch, no, no..." Thought and spoken word became interchangeable in his mind's malignant white noise.

Spy felt the right pad of the headset pull away and his captor's breath sweep over his ear before the low, throaty voice flooded his mind more profoundly than any artificial transmission:

"Would you like to look at yourself?"

Spy couldn't imagine a more hideous question. Despite his silence, punctuated by his own ragged breathing, the headset was readjusted and a gag shoved in his mouth. The cloth binding his eyes shut had been folded many times. One undone fold covered his nose. A second unfolding stretched the cloth from temples to chin. Then, a pair of warm, damp fingers refolded the cloth to cover only his mouth to hold the gag in place. Spy's pulse could have disgraced the fiercest drum roll. His eyes remained closed.

Open.

His eyelids clenched tighter. An icy, serrated edge pressed into one eye as the voice returned and cooed a song entwined with static:

Eyelid removal is a simple process, I promise.

They snapped open. The BLU Medic placed the serrated bonesaw on a metal tray, removed their repurposed headsets and laid them beside it. Sound poured into Spy's ears and the room's creaks and rattles and odd hums and his captor's quiet rummaging thundered in his ears.

A full length mirror loomed in front of him, covered in a stained coat that was tattered and frayed with age. It was the RED Medic's coat, plucked from the bleeding fields far too long ago.

Medic clicked his tongue at the reluctant blue light the moon draped over them from the room's lone window before setting two lamps on either side of Spy. The yellow gleam from the lit lamps and the blue light from the rattling window danced over the doctor's glasses. Even when Medic tore the coat from the mirror, Spy urgently latched onto the gleam and even shut one eye to sever peripheral vision.

Medic noticed. His jackboots clicked and splashed across a wet floor and he stood beside his ward, grazed a hand over his chin and nudged it forward. Spy looked into the mirror and froze. It wasn't him. He blinked and moved his head, sobs and shivers and blurring vision seizing him on all fronts as the thing in the mirror did the same. It wasn't him. He looked to Medic for an explanation but his efforts were swept under by the doctor's critical hums and proud observance of his work.

It wasn't him. The fluttering strips of skin weren't him. The wrinkled molding stumps at his shoulders weren't him. He wasn't the accurately supposed filthy-as-dirt hooks swinging him back and forth, he wasn't the gagged and mortified expression, the gratuitous splatters of fresh blood over old blood over encrusted blood and he wasn't the slab of meat that began at the peak of his head and ended at an emerging ribcage past which existed nothing but a tangle of stripped skin and dangling nerves and a thick stream of dark blood that pooled beneath him and gurgled into a drain.

Medic nudged Spy with a childish grin and gestured to the mirror as if impatient for a compliment on his efforts.

Spy turned his eyes upward. He wasn't a religious man but he wondered. He wondered why any self respecting god would encourage that catastrophically malformed creature in the mirror to masquerade as him. A drop of moisture plopped on his eye as he lifted his chin. If he hadn't swung it back down for another round of muffled sobs, he may have appreciated just how festively they were hung, his ruptured viscera. His intestines, oozing and bleeding rubbery tubes though they were, gleamed and looped like Christmas garlands through the pipes rusted shut above.

His vision descended into erubescence. Intestinal juice trickled down his chin and tears finally spilled out even as his sobs lessened and his mind shut down to accommodate his new reality before he tottered into delusion entirely. He had been beaten, flayed, strangled, burned, flogged, eaten, deafened, blinded and remained proud and silent through many bodily woes. This was not a bodily woe. He looked up again, arching his neck back as far as it would bend before knocking on the creaking hooks. There it was behind him, the source of the sweet hum hovering over the din of his own revulsion. A medigun.

This was no bodily woe, no. The pain was entirely manageable and even neglectable under the medigun's buff. But he remained a third of a man while the rest of him decorated the room while his doctor stood giggling at it all as if fawning over a surprise party he had thrown for himself. This was like nothing he had known before without the company's manufactured life giver.

Spy gagged emptily. Medic patted his face and wiped away his sweat and drying tears with a gentle hush.

"Sehr gut, let it out, let it all out. You hardly made a sound, poor thing. The others, oh, the others, how they sang..."

Spy made a gasping gurgle as blood began to pool in his mouth and stain the gag.

"Everyone needs an initiation, no? I'm sorry I postponed yours for so long. I wanted it to be perfect."

Medic balled the spent handkerchief and chucked it in a wastebasket. As he went to take something from his desk in an unlit corner of the room, he turned back and winked, adding, "If you're good, we can arrange additional appointments."

Medic returned with something glinting in his hand. The links clinked together as Medic wove the golden chain through his fingers and dangled the Dead Ringer in Spy's livid face.

"You are an inspiration," Medic said, catching the watch in his palm. "That trick of yours before today's mission gave me a stupendous idea. I'm hoping to conduct multiple trials, of course, but you, mein lieber," he said, taking Spy's drooping chin and shoving it forward again, "you were the obvious choice for first subject. Don't forget to thank me."

Spy tore his chin from the doctor's grip and moaned into the gag as the slight jerk drove the hooks deeper. Medic pocketed the watch and swept his tongue over his lips, dry from nervous anticipation. He rummaged in the metal tray before emerging with a scalpel. His tone departed drastically from the giddy sing-song of before. "I always ask before I begin. What would you say is our curse here? An occupational...unpleasantness. Injury? Death?"

Spy began to nod for its own sake but stopped. The question wasn't entirely out of place. He shook his head.

"Good." Medic curved the scalpel blade over a clavicle without breaking the skin. "The others didn't agree. Death is the end, they say, even as they skip out of Respawn. Idiots. There is no end. Not for us," he muttered, grabbing Spy's neck and moving the blade to his eye again. The eyelid shot down before it pressed. Medic's voice fell to a whisper as he asked, "What is it then?"

The scalpel broke skin. Spy muttered into the gag and glared insistently at Medic's vest pocket with his other eye. "Ah," said Medic, and with one hand he lowered the knife while slipping the watch out with the other. "Life."

He idly traced the hummingbird carved on its front with a bloodied finger. "And you," he said, "have it in your pocket. You have Respawn in a watch. Respawn is a terrible thing, ja? Someone, somewhere, created this machine. A machine that can revive a human even if he is ground into the filthiest paste. Can you imagine, Spy, how many terrible things can be done in the presence of such a thing?"

Spy lifted his head by degrees, eyes widening and brows descending at every word.

"Anything. One simply needs... volunteers."

Spy thrashed and screamed into the gag. The hooks swung wildly as he created momentum with his neck, and tentatively closing wounds audibly ripped open down his back. Medic threw his arms over him in a panic and pressed him to his chest as blood, bountifully replenished by the medigun to thunder through veins and arteries that ended prematurely, poured down Medic's front from the chest cavity and soaked him tie to shoe.

With his dwindling capacity for reason, Spy acknowledged that with his neck subdued and his limbs out to lunch, he was a handsome slab of meat with just as much autonomy. He slumped in the doctor's arms, head buried in a neck that he let be only because his teeth wouldn't waltz around the filthy gag and snap it in two. Medic held him, stroked his head, apologized softly as his sweeping palm folded the balaclava over one brow before readjusting it, and hummed a melismatic tune.

He carefully let him go. His fingers swept over the contour of the cloth holding the gag in place. "Something tells me," he said while unfolding the bloody thing, "that you have something to say." The moment the cloth gave way, Spy spat out the gag and coughed openly before breathing through his mouth to relieve his nose of the room's rancid stench. Medic held the scalpel to Spy's throat and wiped a drop of blood from his own brow as if this one spot offended him more than the rest of him drenched in crimson. Spy heard his own voice for the first time and was too overjoyed at its existence to realize how sore his stifled swearing had made it:

"I d-do hope you 'ave a large and fruitful family, monsieur...oh, how I would adore an opportunity to gut each and every bastard alive in front of you."

"How romanti--"

"TA GUEULE! Shut up and listen, you stupid nurse. You know. You heard. Ho--"

"Nurse?...nurse?..." Medic quit the affronted pretense as quickly as he started it and turned to Spy, incredulous and even a bit startled. "You traitor. Only he calls me that. The delicate fairy on RED. You have been sneaking over there."

"I am a fucking spy."

Medic reached for the metal tray and tore off a strip of gauze to ball into a fresh gag while muttering indignantly: "Sneaking to him..."

Spy wrenched his face away from the advancing obstruction and spoke as quickly as he could: "Why did he say the same damned thing that night? Why do you chase him? Why di--" Medic finally caught his whipping head, shoved the gag in his mouth and folded the cloth back over it. Spy swung wildly but Medic did not stop him again.

He didn't know how much time passed. Medic retreated somewhere behind him and remained there long after Spy had abandoned movement altogether and succumbed to rogue breezes that swayed him in arbitrary patterns. He heard a violin pour its aching song into the night with the accompanying orchestral backdrop of canine howls and splashing blood. At no especially significant moment, the doctor splashed through the growing pool with one of Spy's own cigarettes between his lips. He glanced at his exhausted ward before kicking something beneath him. Blood gushed through the drain again.

Medic struck a match on one hook. He lit the cigarette. "Kidney," he said, taking a drag and gesturing to a corner at the veiny organ that had blocked the drain. "Had to stop removing it when you woke. I'm pleased you did the rest."

He looked at Spy but Spy could see only one thing. Medic exhaled and asked, "Will you behave?"

Spy nodded, the motion just barely within his autonomy. Medic removed the gag and slipped the lit cigarette in Spy's mouth. Spy shut his eyes in elation. When he opened them, Medic observed him excitedly. The cigarette fell from Spy's trembling lips and extinguished in the swirling pool below.

Medic chuckled. "Must have slipped my mind," he said. "Difficult to smoke without lungs, isn't it? And what filthy lungs they were..."

Spy thought he had been breathing. He tried to consciously inhale and would've had more success in telling his heart when to beat, if he still had even that. The medigun told his heart when to beat. No. Medic told his heart when to beat. He was never in someone's possession as absolutely as he was then. Respawn, his salvation, was a dying prospect, and oh how he envied that state, death. True, forgiving death from which Respawn wouldn't snatch his soul and thrust him into existence again. This was why the other BLU Medic had fled. This was why the remaining BLU collectively squirmed and prayed for a swift end for whomever let slip a cross word about this doctor. Medic had shown them fear. He had shown them that death, the fleeting nothingness Spy was sure they all felt before falling into Respawn's cast net, was their only consolation in their occupation's moral wasteland.

Medic lit another cigarette. He gave it a few halfhearted drags and flicked it into the drain. Smoke billowed out of his nostrils as he sighed. "I could never enjoy that," he said, gesturing to it as it drowned in the swirling pool. "He can. I could smell it on his breath after missions. When it was just him and the American." Medic stood and walked in front of the mirror with the tattered coat on his arm. He put it on. "Spitting image, no?"

Spy crawled out of his reverie and tried to focus on the figure. His head jolted up and his eyes eagerly darted over the RED Medic before the chunk of hanging flesh in the mirror behind the specter and the firm tugs on his back sapped all signs of his delusional hopes from his features. Medic frowned at him and shucked off the old coat.

"Strange...how a Frenchman will look at a man and prefer half of him."

One lamp had burned out and the other flickered on the Dead Ringer, whose chain still wove through Medic's fingers.

"You have many secrets, Spy. Will you keep one more?"

Spy nodded.

Medic began to pace. "The RED Medic has loved and feared and lost and loved again. He lived a full life. He stepped out of that train with the skills to support his team and the wisdom he took from the great war in his youth. Tell me, Spy, does that ring true?"

The nearly verbatim Respawn remark was no coincidence, and this question didn't have a simple answer. Spy mouthed a 'no'.

Medic nodded curtly. His scowl carried in his voice. "It was my life. My lovers and enemies. My profession and my war. They never warned me. They threw me in a chamber and told me zhey needed to scan me again, to secure my anatomical data or whatever piece of Scheiße reason zhey gave me. I couldn't be sure until zhe mission zhe morning after RED tried to engage us after hours. I watched zhe frightened Kind as I killed him und I saw my clo--no, m-myself." He stopped and cleared his throat to reign in his rising voice and slipping accent.

"It's true that similar classes grow into each other, even across factions. Respawn melds their features, sometimes even their habits and tastes, I know. The Demomen could be taken for twins, and I've seen our Heavy try his hand at making sandviches, the oaf. Mein Gott, even my former colleague whined of his worsening vision before realizing that Respawn had matched it with mine. But the RED Medic, he...he is..." Medic stopped pacing and threw off his glasses. The hardy lens suffered only a hairline crack against the wet floor.

"He is me. He has my expertise, my muscle memory, my hatreds and desires but he hesitates, he retreats. He stifles his, no, my desires."

Spy recalled the night after the one in which the RED Medic himself declared his urges. Spy didn't dare make a visible appearance so soon but he did flip RED's infirmary inside out looking for the doctor's journal. Even his own lovers' most visceral letters flatlined under the heady regret and shame scratched into those pages.

Medic stepped behind him again and took the bonesaw from the tray before wheeling the thing out of sight. "My genetics created a weakling. How embarrassing," he said, and bounced the flat end on his palm. "yet RED embraces him while BLU fears him. They worship a second rate copy, an anomaly, a cheat."

Spy followed the lamp's glimmers on the serrated instrument. Medic stopped moving it and looked at Spy with a startlingly childish expression. "You are a true friend, Spy. I doubt anyone would have hung around to listen for so long."

Spy disregarded the jest and gave a harsh shout as the bonesaw tore through the vertical troop of jagged stitches that joined his chest. The torrent of pain flooded all thought and sense from his mind before the medigun flushed it out as quickly as it had stormed in. Medic gripped the two folds of skin and pulled as one would on offending drapes whose opaque folds swallowed the sun. Oh, what a terrible comparison. Spy yelled but the short shout was inspired merely by surprise when a hearty tug split his chest in two, its pre-cut hinges aching at his sides.

Medic's eyelids fluttered at the sound and his chest swelled as he opened his prize. "My, what tempo," he mumbled. Spy closed his eyes and welcomed the thudding in his ears, the surest sign that his heart remained in his chest. He opened them again, but only barely. The watch swung from Medic's busy hand. The bonesaw was clenched in the other, idly grazing his temple. Medic was explaining the procedure but Spy couldn't listen.

He gradually acknowledged a farcically obvious escape.

Medic trembled visibly. "...and if you survive without it? Oh but I shouldn't assume, I...I haven't even begun..." Medic unwittingly offered many openings. Spy waited. Medic frowned and edged closer. Spy's head swayed from nervous lightheadedness but he waited. Only when Medic finally tore his eyes from the convulsing organ did Spy push forward on the doctor's own leverage on his ribs to meet Medic's lips with his own.

Every moment that passed without his beheading was a sea of oil approaching his hope's flimsy spark. Medic froze, unresponsive but not withdrawing. At last, two hands framed his head and pulled him away. It didn't work, his mind screamed. He was done.

The doctor interrupted his patient's premature lament. He asked, altogether humorlessly:

"Who am I?"

Spy furiously cycled through his options.

"Medic."

"Which?"

The question was so low and thick and loaded, it could have sunk a fleet. Spy barely stifled a grimace and growled into his ear:

"Mine."

Despite the moans and gasps and raw ardor, Medic fell on him not with romantic longing or sexual lust but with the voracious triumph of one who has snatched another's favorite toy and shattered it beyond repair. Spy was at first so overpowered by the traveling hands, the mouth's desperate fervor and the totality of his own success that he may have indulged himself for longer than he cared to admit.

Spy dove in and withdrew, he teased and goaded. As the doctor's tongue slipped just far enough and even curved to conveniently accommodate the contour of Spy's shutting jaw, it became inevitable: he couldn't let their mouths part until he reversed their roles entirely.

He shut it. Immediately, Spy whipped his head as far to either side as his own anatomy allowed while gnashing through Medic's tongue and spraying them both with a generous surge of blood. Medic quickly overrode the instinct to pull away and dug into Spy instead, clawing and tearing and doing whatever unspeakable things that made Spy's insides coil around the doctor's fingers and writhe through every inch of him as he held on.

The bonesaw flashed and obscured his vision and he would have released in that second had his jaw not locked the moment before the instrument crashed into his face and hacked through his left Masseter. His jaw gave but his pained wail ended after the pain itself did. The medigun whirred lazily as Medic cried out in pain and shock and rabid fury, his eyes darting everywhere before settling on the medigun while his tongue, gnawed off midway, hung grotesquely from his bleeding open maw. He stumbled forward, shoved Spy's miserable carcass out of the way and laid one shaking hand on the medigun cradle.

Spy waited. His profession demanded a mastery of timing, of consistency, of deceit. But his murders rode on the backs of his targets' insecurities, their envies and prejudices and fears. If they mastered them before he could have his way, it was over. Medic let the medigun go. It remained fixed on Spy.

The doctor grabbed Spy's chin, which drooped and bled on one side from the infuriated sawing, and turned his head to face him. Spy smirked lopsidedly and cooed in mock concern:

"Why do you torture yourself, ma colombe? It's right there."

Medic stared at him with the look of one whose thoughts were so overwhelming that they seized all motor function. A small, incredulous smile crept into his face. He looked back at the medigun, and then to Spy, and then to the dead organ in his palm whose last erratic beat Medic had squeezed out in his hand and severed all ties to its host with the swinging saw.

"It worked..." Medic whispered and held the heart higher to splash it in moonlight. Spy waited.

Medic gripped the bonesaw resolutely and raised it to his face. "This charade...it was all to hurt me," he said, his words muffled by the flapping appendage, "....to make me snatch the gun away and let you die." He patted Spy on the injured cheek with mock affection, although no extra gesture could exacerbate the sirens of pain each touch thrust into Spy's agonized mind.

"To mend a barely unpleasant...nick," he said, and raised the bonesaw, "I underestimated you, Spy. Don't do the same," he said, and severed his dangling tongue.

Spy couldn't wait anymore. He raised his head and laughed. He regressed to thrashing again but his will failed him before his cramped neck did. He descended into oaths and giddy laughter and a harsh realization that his dignity had died when he should have joined it, and mourning its departure was an asinine notion.

"Did you know," Spy giggled, "that the RED team has a medic? Oh, how I wish I had one on mine!"

Medic continued rummaging for a dish large enough for the heart. Spy called out louder: "Oh but how cultured he is! He plays Paganini, recites Pushkin and, oh you won't believe this, but he occasionally operates too! What an inspiring, well-rounded--"

He didn't see the doctor through his wandering eyes but he heard the boots splashing across the room. A golden sheen tore through his wide eyed delirium and as Medic smacked him across the face, the Dead Ringer followed suit and clinked against his teeth. Spy lunged forward, caught the watch in his mouth and snapped it open with his tongue before ramming his head into Medic's outstretched bonesaw. He fell through the hooks and splashed on the floor, his own blood enveloping his cloaked body that reappeared as soon as the medigun beam retracted and shut down his persistent brain at last.

He ran out of Respawn and snatched the old watch from his room. He climbed on a protruding ledge on the roof of an adjoining building of BLU's base complex, a stout structure overshadowed by the main building. He turned on the watch and lay down to rest in whatever remained of the merciless night, praying that the cloak would carry him through dawn. Spy touched his long, trembling fingers to his face and neck and kissed his knees and counted his toes.


__________________________________________________


If it isn't too much trouble, I'd appreciate using spoilers in reference to this chapter. I hope you'll forgive me for getting down and dirty; there was no other way to show you the BLU Medic and Spy nearly as concisely without doing so.
>> No. 1529
exac..................

don't worry bbe i loved this chapter
>> No. 1530
Wow that guy is fucked up.
>> No. 1533
Brilliantly written! I cringed quite a bit.
Also, cupcakes.
>> No. 1534
Damn. And I thought Red Medic needed help, but oh no he was the damn tip of the bloody iceberg.
Chilling interaction, now I've got the jitters.
Bravo Exac, Bravo.
(Pssst, Anybody know how to use spoilers?)
>> No. 1537
Holy SHIT.
>> No. 1538
THAT was INTENSE. My heart won't stop pounding!
>> No. 1541
Holy shit, BLU Medic O_O

Exac, that was amazing. And thank you for ruining my sleep for the next few nights.
>> No. 1588
Captcha: Ityial treatment,

I would say this "treatment" was less than Ityial.
>> No. 1927
Bumping this because more people need to goddamn read it.
>> No. 2050
I loved reading this fic and can't wait to read more.
>> No. 2170
You know, I've been thinking. This is probably the most terrifying, insane medical I've ever read. It hadn't totally felt like a horror story, but the shifts in mood when the Medic(s) get their hands on a fine specimen really have me cringing... In fear of what's to come, that is.
>> No. 2872
Chapter 28

The next battle passed like a dream. Rockets flew past Spy and into ruptured walls and teetering balconies, blasting apart metal and wood that belched out plumes of dust whose fine particles swarmed in the afternoon glare and split into a thousand hues. The thud and clang and ring of gunfire seized his heart and shook his bones as if this was his first stroll through its cacophony. He stumbled lazily after the cart and periodically fired near the RED Medic's feet to draw his attention to any advance from the doctor's unfortunate doppelganger.

By the day's end, he recovered his haughty gait and quick tongue, which he eagerly exercised as he strutted away from the cart he'd tipped behind RED's back. BLU's hollers were met with the bomb's deafening roar as it fell and ruptured RED's remaining satellite base, which left them open to a second assault on their base in Badwater, their only remaining fortification for miles. Spy slipped easily through the whoops and cheers. They weren't for him, but if he lamented the fact, he didn't show it. As he strolled with an air that would shame a prince, a stray glare blinded him. He blinked it away and peered into the open arch of the nearest decrepit building. He met the RED Scout's mortified face and blinked away the purple smear stamped in his vision by the setting sun bouncing off the boy's bent mic. The scout's chest rose and fell rapidly and his useless weapons lay smoldering at his feet. Spy flicked his spent cigarette to the ground and raised his right hand, all fingers curved except for index and thumb. He mock fired and recoiled at the boy before raising the "barrel" to his lips and exhaling a stream of smoke. "Don't forget," he said, and left the boy unharmed.

To spite the Frenchman's fun, the sun seemed to hurdle out of view at the moment he had turned to it for guidance. He wasn't worried. He had found his base in the darkest hours by smell alone while fountains poured out of bullet wounds and lacerations, and on so many occasions that he was due to pen a field manual on the feat. The still air and mute night seemed to beg for a revision of the previous one, but Spy refused the offer. He was content to stroll at his own languid pace, escort all memory of doctors and questionable practices out of his mind, and imagine silken sheets beneath his tired back.

When he came to his room, he found his door ajar, his belongings overturned, and "RESTRICDED" written sloppily on bits of board and nailed onto every vacant surface. His face burned with indignation, but as he turned to exit his quarters while halfway through preparing a furious speech in his head, the BLU Medic strode in and blocked the door. He clasped his hands behind his back and stepped forward. To Spy's inordinate dismay, instinct seized his limbs before pride and forced from them a sizeable step back.

"We are waiting in the conference room. For you," Medic said. Spy nodded in acknowledgment and made a show of rummaging through what remained of his belongings. Medic waited.

Spy looked up innocently."I do not require an escort, doctor."

"You will need more than an escort if you continue this charade."

Spy stood and walked out, hoping to revive his dignity by letting the Medic follow him while out of sight, but strained his ears for the slightest irregular step all the same.

The BLU mercenaries were all there: Soldier, Engineer, Heavy, and two Demomen. A thick silence charged the stuffy room. One chair was backed into a corner. Six more faced it. Medic moved his to let Spy into the makeshift enclosure, and both took their seat: Medic in the center of the row, and Spy in the corner. Heavy looked disinterested. Medic, mildly bored. The Demomen lounged in varying degrees of drunken stupor. Soldier stood before Spy could see Engineer.

"Hand them over."

"Pardon?"

"Cough up your weapons. I won't ask again," Soldier growled. Spy did so.

"And his watches," said Medic, "All of them." Spy dropped them into Soldier's open palm. He pocketed them and began pacing.

"You know what we do with rats?" Soldier asked.

"Find them loving homes?" Spy drawled. Soldier awarded him a right hook in response as one Demoman whistled and said, "Ya, in hell!" Soldier rolled up his sleeves as Spy tapped a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. Heavy groaned loudly and stood.

"Am tired. Natascha need repair. No time to watch team play with little fool," he said, then turned to Spy. "Tell us how enemy Engineer has BLU Engineer guns or I break Respawn, and then you."

Engineer bid Soldier to sit and stood himself. He was pale, and his face held a dangerous calm. "I'll make this quick, fellas," he said. "How many of y'all saw the enemy wrangle his sentry today?" All raised their hands, nodded, or grunted in acknowledgment.

Spy snorted. "Engineer, I would never have dreamed that you would rather accuse your friend of treason than admit that another can possibly be as clever as y-"

Engineer interrupted, "And who here saw this man deliver the plans for that wrangler to the enemy?"

"I."

Spy flew from his chair and tackled the speaker to the ground before anyone had even realized who he was. Medic's head slammed against the floor before Spy forcefully clapped two open palms on either side of his head as it rebounded and pounded his fists into the man's exposed neck for as long as it took BLU to pry him away. Spy let them. He let them drop him back into the chair. He let them deny him explanation with a gag and tie his legs, his arms, his feet, and his torso to the straining chair. He did not let them obstruct his view of the doctor's reddening face, strangled wheezing, and seizing chest. The spontaneous retribution was a kiss in comparison to the night before, but Spy would not pretend that he didn't sit warm and content as he spent the night bound in solitary confinement. He slept easily.

Spy felt a light slap at his face. He turned away, at which he felt a more insistent strike. He turned again. A sly hand tugged at his mask. His eyes shot open and he jerked so forcefully that his chair tipped.

"Keep steady, ya damn moron," said the BLU Demoman as he grabbed Spy's leg and pulled, jerking the chair upright again. "An' none o' yer damn mumblin'; ye listen to me now." Spy heard something in his tone, a soft inflection he heard rarely on the job, and one that he himself granted to very few. He stayed quiet, watching the sway of a dim yellow lamp in the Demoman's hand - the only light in the windowless room.

"Good lad." Demoman sat cross legged next to the bound and gagged Spy and set the lamp down. "Finally gotcha, didn't he? The doc? Ah, don't shoot yer eyebrows into space for me; I know. I'm sure he's boasted that he's gotten the lot of us while doin' you in." He rubbed his chin. "Wasn't as bad when the other doc was here to pry him away from us. But even he jus' let it happen after a point. Called it endurance training or some crap o' the sort. Had a new name for it every time you'd ask him. Didn't like talking about it, though."

It was silent after that, with the Demoman standing up to browse through the newspaper clippings on the walls, and Spy still bound but thinking furiously. The Demoman took one and came back. He placed a clipping on one of Spy's bound arms, not unusual save for a gratuitous splash of scribbles and circles in red ink over much of it. "Fits ye well enough," said the Demoman. "The color, ye arse," he added when Spy frowned confusedly. "I know you've been goin' over there," said Demoman, "You've been goin' over there for a long while." Spy, trained since childhood to display no unnecessary emotion, nevertheless felt nothing lesser than his very soul lower his gaze so poignantly that the unmistakable show of defeat startled the Demoman.

"Boyo, if ya think I need your permission to lop yer head off, yer dumber than ye look." Spy looked up. "Told no one," said Demoman, "How else are ye still here? Covered for yer arse every time, ungrateful bastard. But Medic saw you go over there the night before last, and there's no foolin' him. Dunno if you were smashed or what, or if someone tampered with yer watch. Careless git. But you've got me in a bind now. Team's got me the voting card for coverin' for ye, waiting for enough no's to boot me off. Got no evidence but they're all damned paranoid, an' that's all it takes. Then they'll vote on you if they don't take ye out beyond Respawn and empty a clip in yer face first. Ever since ye showed up, you've been shakin' up both teams. I know what ye want. Dunno why ye want it, but I know a homesick face when it's bound and gagged an' starin' stupidly at my face. Been my face fer too long not to recognize another."

Spy looked from the Demoman to his gag and back again. The Demoman loosened the bind and Spy spat the balled up cloth from his mouth. "Should I assume...from the way you speak of such...treasonous things," Spy said, taking frequent, shallow breaths to offset the ropes compressing his chest, "that you have a...history with RED?"

"Assume whatever the hell ya want, ye ain't gettin' any more intel than I want ye to."

"I have read your records."

"In the doc's office? Falsified."

"That is more affirmative than a 'yes'."

"'Fraid that's not fer today, lad."

"Then I assume there is more to this meeting than a quaint chat. You are about to offer something."

Demoman clapped his hands together. "Yes."

"And?"

"It's bloody dangerous."

"I am a mercenary, my friend."

"Mutinous."

Spy laughed.

"You will get what you've been short o' screaming for this entire time."

"Sounds promising."

"Got one condition."

"I'm sure there are many, but go on."

The Demoman thought for a moment, then said, "Tell me old doc I said hey."


Chapter 29


It was not a perfect plan, nor one entirely grounded in reality. It was most irritating to the Demoman himself, who preferred a sizeable return on any heavy investment of effort, patience and time, a mentality common to any trap bomber, from whom only incredible foresight and cunning could supplement limited resources. Spy wondered how a man of his mode of thought had even conceived of such a plan.

The Demoman left Spy bound and readjusted his gag to avoid suspicion but loosened both before he left. Spy didn't know whether the act was one of pity or deliberation or some spawn of the two, but he enjoyed his freed lungs and healing rope burns. He didn't know when the Demoman had come or left, or whether the sun scorched the base's metal exterior or lashed it with the night's chilling wind at any given time, but he knew it was just before dawn when Soldier marched into the room to make preparations before the early briefing. Spy almost wanted to drink the cool breeze circling idly about though the open door. He hadn't eaten in a day.

The conference table was returned to the center and the only chair out of place was Spy's, and there in the corner he sat as Soldier announced the day's events. Administration had given them a day to restock and recharge for a conflict should it fail to mediate a deal that would give RED's remaining territory in the area to BLU. This was a formality as always, as any talk of RED and BLU closing a deal without gunfire was anecdotal. Regardless, Soldier flattened everyone's eardrums with meticulously scheduled training and exercise regiments before dismissing the team.

Once alone, he marched to Spy and unbound him as gently as he could, so carefully that Spy suffered only three bone fractures and a minor nosebleed. He was to trail Soldier all day, but once he had accumulated a punishment of over a few thousand pushups before noon for refusing to let the man attach a chain leash to his neck, Soldier dumped the man's entire confiscated collection of imported cologne. Spy passed out from outraged shock and resisted all attempts at revival from Scrumpy soaked rags until the faint whiff of the approaching Medic's scent of blood and antiseptic reintroduced him to reality.

Eventually, Soldier compromised and let the chain rest on Spy's wrist. More accurately, Heavy threatened property damage if Soldier's yelling continued, and Engineer, not wanting to spend his day off repairing the base's structural supports, dragged Spy into his workshop and welded the chain round his wrist.

At noon, BLU received two unexpected but welcome deliveries. The first entertained the team to a summary of three years worth of the adventures of The Amazing Spider Man within the first ten minutes of his arrival, and the other strode in silently but powerfully, with head high, feet apart, and stretching its arms, their impressive build visible even through the thick material of its hazmat suit. The BLU Scout and Pyro settled in quickly and comfortably, with the first running laps through the base as the other sharpened his company-issued ax and eyed a strand of barbed wire among the salvaged items Engineer finds on the field after missions.

Once they had become acquainted with the base, Scout and Pyro were called in by Medic for a "standard" checkup. When Soldier learned this from Heavy, his face froze momentarily. To his credit, he let on little else, but Spy was more observant than his captor was repressive. Spy's interest was heightened further when Soldier left him for the first time that day, leaving him for Heavy to watch.

They sat in the dimly lit armory as the giant man spit-shined his gun for a solid hour before Spy stood to stretch.

"Sit," Heavy grumbled. Spy did, but on Heavy's bench instead.

"What is your impression of the team, comrade?" Spy studied the man's face as he spoke.

"Is good. Doesn't get in way."

"Of what?"

"Of gun."

Spy rubbed his jaw, mildly annoyed at his growing stubble. "And what of our doctor?"

"In mission, he take more lives than he save. Is...good."

"But?"

Heavy set down the rag. "Scared away other doctor who did job. This doctor doesn't do job, doesn't heal. Dispenser too slow. Soldier agrees but does nothing."

Spy pressed on excitedly, "Did he speak with Medic on the matter?"

"I don't know."

"Did you?"

"N-no."

That was enough. Heavy was startled by his own stutter, and swallowed loudly. He took the rag and rubbed furiously at the immaculate barrel, so preoccupied with his own shame that Spy wrestled his hand out of the chain and crept out of the armory without a word.

He rounded a corner and nearly took out a BLU Demoman's remaining eye.

"Thought the oaf sat on ye; wot the hell took so- no, don't start here, get the hell out of the main halls before we get caught."

They opened a hatch that led to the roof and barred it from the outside. Demoman wiped his sweating brow on his sleeve. "Drinkin' buddy's set to bang his window twice when he sees Soldier out of the infirmary. Medic's showin' him some fancy new medigun prototype; tried to test it on the new guys," he said.

"He broke the fat man."

"Wot?"

Spy paced and gestured wildly. "Merde...merde merde..."

The Demoman backhanded him across the face. "Ye damn sap," he said. Spy sat on a ledge to steady himself and blew on the burns on his wrist, where the chain had been. Engineer was never careless for no reason. "Ridiculous," Spy seethed, "Stationed here a month and I get nothing out of any of you. Survive one dismemberment and I can read minds off of each of your miserable faces."

"Ah, dismembered ye too? Soldier got one o' those. Got a beheadin', myself. Did it nice and slowly, the git. Blew his library to splinters the mornin' after. Lopped me off again that same night," said the Demoman in a manner another would use to recall a trip to the mall.

Spy wrapped his handkerchief over his wrist and shook his head in revulsion. "But why? Why doesn't anyone report?"

Demoman laughed bitterly. "Think the higher up's give a damn if one of us goes off like he does? Contract says nothing about it. Not in favor, not opposed. Like breathin'. Ye can do it all ye want, but if ye pout yer pretty lips and stop, yer still good and fresh in Respawn in a minute or two. God bless that fuckin' thing." He put a bottle to his lips and tipped it. Spy waited but yanked it and took a drink when Demoman didn't show signs of letting up.

"Did he make ye feel it?" he asked. Spy swallowed thickly, heart pounding as the memory resurfaced.

"Non. Not everything."

"Lucky bastard." Demoman took another swig. Spy snatched it and set it aside. He still needed answers.

"H-how did you..." Spy cleared his throat, and struggled to speak. It was long since he had been sincere. He was out of practice. "How could you know what I want? Something I had myself not understood or even acknowledged until you forced me to?"

Demoman hiccupped, but his tone was sober. "Told ye already. I know a homesick face. Piss poor choice o' words, but the look ain't much different. BLU lives to fight. The men, I mean. Bloody game t' them, all the fighting and dying. Can't blame 'em, though, but they're useless otherwise. Damned good in a fight, but deaf and mute when ye jus' wanna talk or swing by a bar. RED...we've got something else. Can't say what the hell it is. Just a funny feeling. Maybe the bad food. RED always had terrible food." Demoman shivered. His eyes were lucid, and his gaze was aware. "Ye fight to live on RED. It's good sport t' ye, but yer victory's the night after, the dinner after, the boastin' and braggin' after. The people after." His eyes became damp. "That sound right?"

Spy nodded. He couldn't add anything more.

"Good. Can't wait to get rid o' ye. Can't afford bein' a soddin' sap on the job."

"If you are so miserable, why tell me? Why not use this thing yourself, this..."

"Autobalance. And ya, don't think I never thought to. Been dreaming of it since I got tossed over here while all but two o' me mates were snuffed out in that stupid bomb plot ages ago. Jus' because I kept breathin' 'til mornin', 'cause I held on 'til the system restarted. But risk a second go? When our Engineer showed me how to activate it, naive bastard, I was set to pop back that same day, but...I was lucky once. Didn't toss my brain in a blender, memories all there, legs and arms in the right places. But a second time? I won't tempt fate. She's been good enough to me here." Two sharp bangs echoed from a window below.

Spy stood. "Beheading and all?"

"Aye," he said. What he felt was a separate matter. Spy didn't press on. He had torn open more than enough old and well-healed wounds that day.


Chapter 30


The two met again the next morning as BLU prepared for a long and difficult battle. Demoman yawned and asked, "Last questions?"

"If BLU wins?"

"You'll respawn, explode, an' respawn again in another RED base. Bit of a ride."

"How do we make sure I am the first to die and cross over after you activate it?"

"Engineer knows when Respawn's compromised like he knows his own toys. I'll tickle its belly, he'll tell you lot to retreat, RED'll push forward, and all you need to do is stand still. Hopefully, the bastards can aim today."

"Does Autobalance work both ways?"

"Even so, no one's hoppin' over here from there. BLU's got more mercs than RED, and Autobalance is yer Robin Hood of software glitches."

"How does it feel?"

"No different from yer normal respawnin'. Don't show yer cold feet now, boy."

Spy tapped his watch and played with the gold chain. He looked up. "Do they know? Should they?"

Demoman smirked. "I guess ye can pretend RED jus' hired a new Spy if yer-"

"Non, my friend. Do they know that you remember? That you care? That you exist?"

"No!" Demoman raised one threatening finger at Spy. "And if they find out, you'll be begging the BLU Medic to lop off yer legs again! Respawn already did me a favor by scrambling classes and making them look damn near identical across teams. For all those two know, BLU recruited a new Demo while their entire team went straight to hell in that blast. You get a fresh start. Let me have mine."

They said their farewells as Soldier arrived and shoved Spy away, who was required to be under his vigilance even in battle, and then reminded the Demoman that he was under house arrest until BLU figured out what to do with him, an order that was almost comically in their favor. Demoman glanced at Spy's old watch on his own wrist that was part of the company-issued equipment for that class, and one that Spy had quickly replaced with the Dead Ringer. Spy had busted the old watch's invisibility function - a man in his position takes no chances - but left it ticking. He made it clear that they must account for every second on such a risky operation and that the watch served only that end, but the BLU Demoman wasn't fooled. They were more similar than either let on. He would've left a memento as well, had their positions been reversed, but with something much more practical, like a bottle of Scrumpy.

The Announcer's voice resonated throughout the field and the BLU base, so wiring Spy with a com device and risking detection was unnecessary. Everyone had gone to the gates. Demoman was free to move through the base except for the locked armory and the teammates' private quarters. Spy was unrestrained. They were incredibly fortunate. Demoman came to the main Respawn hub and pried open a white panel on the underside of a locked control terminal. The teams were given limited access to the Respawn system, and although they were able to perform considerable upgrades as both Engineers had done, shutting them down, even during times when it would have been offline pre-upgrade, was impossible. However, Demoman had found a way to spook Engineer, who was a man of habit and logic and protocol, but more importantly, the man was a proud perfectionist. Touch anything whose alarm the Texan wouldn't recognize, and his imagination will do the rest. Then, activate Autobalance.

If one was within the physical domain of Respawn and had a preliminary DNA scan at the time of their recruitment for the purposes of bodily reconstruction, they would be revived in any of Respawn's available rooms. Demoman recited the contract's Respawn chapter to himself ad nauseum but tried to force from his mind the visceral examples of Respawn malfunction, a section whose gristly details were given considerable attention by its authors. The Announcer voiced the thirty second mark. Demoman rubbed his fingers. He knew how to play with wires, and trembling hands certainly weren't assets. Pick any wire, pinch it at ten, he thought. Engineer hollers at everyone to stay clear of the gates. Plug Autobalance. Spy runs. Spy dies. Demoman accuses Spy of manipulating him, Spy admits it in a later battle in full view of the others, BLU drops the vote, and everything will be normal again. A happy bloody end, Demoman thought.

At eleven, the door to Respawn opened. At nine, a PDA clanged against the white floor as it slipped through the fingers of the BLU Engineer, who had returned to find a replacement segment for a stiff Gunslinger finger in the Resupply cabinet. At five, the BLU Demoman feigned inebriation and pointed to his unfortunate hand still "stuck" in the mess of wires. At two, Engineer lifted a shotgun, eyes set on Spy's watch on Demoman's wrist. At one, the BLU Demoman turned away and fell into the wires as a shotgun round peppered his legs and back. As the gates opened in the distance, he squinted through the pain and joined a thick wire with its port. As the BLU Engineer reloaded, and still adamant that it was a disguised BLU Spy he was punishing, the BLU Demoman had only enough time to realize that Spy had planted the watch deliberately, and before Engineer unloaded a second shot in his skull, he had an infinitesimal fraction of a second to be incredibly aware not only of his own mortality, but of an excited nostalgia that fear and doubt could not drown before death.

Spy ran into enemy fire before the gates had even receded entirely into the ground. A well placed shot put him down quickly. He respawned a few minutes later, vaguely remembering a blue flash before his death as he dressed. He left his private Respawn room and entered BLU's Respawn hub. The BLU Demoman lay still near the terminal, and Engineer was face first in its underside, whose wires hung down like entrails from a mechanical creature's ruptured belly. Spy's footsteps startled him into rising prematurely and slamming his head inside the terminal. He rubbed the sore spot and stood up carefully. He swore magnificently when he saw Spy.

"Shows what all this finger pointin' does. Thought that was you," he said, pointing at the Demoman. "Turns out he jus' had a little bit more to drink today.

Spy's temple throbbed and he swallowed. "Has he...has he respawned yet?" he asked.

Engineer clicked his tongue. "Not yet, but I reckon I owe the feller an apology when he does. All 'cause you jammed my Gunslinger, ya snake. Think he stole your old watch, go take a look."

The weight of apprehension finally left his heavy heart. Spy exhaled vocally and laughed. A well-orchestrated stab, a perfectly lined shot, a forced reunion, it was all the same to him. He damned his own freedom to feed his pride, one which wasn't just sated then but engorged. Engineer continued checking the terminal's wiring but kept an eye on Spy, who was almost hysterical.

The flash came back to him. It sobered him immediately, but he couldn't understand why. Insignificant memories were often discarded when respawning, but never did that frustrate Spy as much as then. A light rustling came from the Demoman's private Respawn room. Spy refused to acknowledge it. He refused to acknowledge failure.

Engineer, however, had no such trouble. He stood and stretched his back. "There he is now. Think there's time to get flowers and chocolate?"

The magnitude of his disappointment had forced Spy into a stunned stupor.

"Hey," said Engineer, "didn't mean anythin' by it. No need to get white-faced on me. Hey!" Spy gazed emptily at Engineer, who took a step toward him. "You always get like this after comin' outta here? Hey, quit trembling," said Engineer, who, despite knowing nothing of what had transpired that morning, was nevertheless aware of something well outside of his understanding. Spy blinked. It was a crocket. A RED was torn apart by a charged rocket just before Spy died. There was a low murmer behind Demoman's door.

"Engineer," Spy whispered.

"Quit foolin' around."

"No, please...those doors," he said, and pointed to a pair of private Respawn rooms, "have they been assigned to our Scout and Pyro?"

"Nah, Demo tampered with the room assignments. Might've wiped Scout and Pyro off the roster entirely, but don't you worry, I programmed Respawn to assign a room automatically once the system picks 'em up for the first time. Long as we have enough rooms, everyone on the team'll get here nice and safe."

"Fuck."

Engineer stepped back in surprise. "Hell, Spy, what happened to finesse?"

Spy was unresponsive. He leaned against a white wall and swore. Engineer ran to another terminal and pulled up the rosters for both teams. "What in Sam Hill..." he whispered.

The former BLU Demoman's Respawn door opened. The former RED Medic stumbled out.



_________________

Had to focus on school and work for a while. The events in chapter 30 will be explained further, but it will help me help you if you tell me what you want to hear expanded on most!
>> No. 2875
Oh man, I had been waiting for this to update. This story has been my favorite since BLU Medic's creepy disemboweling scene with Spy... I'm always a fan of crazy sadist/surgery-obsessed Medic.

Chapter 30 was a little difficult to follow, but I can't quite put my finger on why. I got that Spy tried to trick Demo into rebalancing himself onto RED, but instead of simply moving Demo to RED, it switched him with RED Medic. Is this because the teams are even now? If that is the case, then it's my bad for losing count. Either way, I think I would like a little more elaboration on what exactly happened with the rebalance.
>> No. 2876
47: I think I can answer this as is; Autobalance works by evening the teams when there is an imbalance of two or more mercs (here and in the actual game). Before Demo unknowingly tampered with the rosters, BLU had the majority, but once Respawn carried him to RED AND registered the loss of BLU Scout and Pyro's rooms, RED gained the majority and was due to hand over the first merc who died after that as per the conditions of Autobalance. It was pure coincidence. Demo just happened to temporarily decrease BLU's member count by 2, something neither of them had prepared for. (Spoilers: If you count, RED should have one more merc for it to have the +2 majority. You'll see who he is in the next chapter)
>> No. 2877
Oh, I see. Thank you! I also reread some of the earlier chapters, and now it makes more sense.
>> No. 2879
i am on the edge of my seat to find out what happens next
>> No. 2888
I just started reading this yesterday and finished just now. Why has it taken so long for me to discover this incredible piece of writing? I can't wait for more!
>> No. 2952
Chapter 31

Spy grabbed the Ambassador from its holster and fired. Engineer collapsed as Medic recoiled from the noise before opening his eyes to see the barrel aimed at him. Medic moved his eyes from the barrel to the unblinking eyes of the BLU Spy, who said to him:

"Do not speak, do not panic, do not run. You are in the BLU base. You are on the BLU team. Come with me if you want to live."

They fled to the spot on the roof where Spy and Demoman had spoken just the night before. Spy left Medic there and doubled back to hide the bodies. He found the shotgun blasts on the Demoman's body and looked at the Ambassador shot in Engineer's skull. He grabbed Engineer's shotgun, thrust it in his limp hands, and placed his own Ambassador in the Demoman's. It was a sloppy diversion, but he had no time for finesse. He returned to the roof, half-expecting the former RED Medic to be gone. He sorely wanted him gone. Spy found him leaning over a metal balustrade and letting the sun scorch his white coat and graying hair as he observed the ongoing battle.

He looked up as Spy approached. "So soon? Come back in a few minutes, maybe then I will be cooked to death and out of your way."

"Until you Respawn again downstairs, you idiot."

Medic took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Ah. Yes, how silly of me."

"How did you die, anyway?"

"I was foolish."

Spy slammed the balustrade with his fist and yelled, "I want answers, doctor!"

Medic put his glasses back on and followed a stray rocket with his eyes. It soared, unhindered, into the sky. "He convinced me to heal him, then rocket jumped out of range when the ubercharge meter read 99%. He is not unreasonable anymore, Soldier is... malicious. Tell me," he said, turning to Spy, "did he do this to me?"

"I did it," Spy said maliciously, and carefully observed Medic's reaction.

"Ah," said Medic. He walked away from the ledge and into the cool shadow cast by the canyon wall the base was propped against. Spy followed, grabbed Medic's collar from behind and threw him to the floor.

"Yell! Cry, fight, demand answers!" Spy said. Medic stood as if he had merely tripped. Spy shoved him again. "Do something!"

Medic dodged a third blow. "I have done enough," he said.

Spy was incensed. He faked a right hook and thrust his left fist into Medic's gut. The doctor retreated and finally took a defensive stance, but did nothing more. Spy circled him and said, "Enough? You have done nothing! You ask no questions, show no anger or fear or confusion, you, who-" Medic slammed a fist into Spy's jaw, kicked his feet out from under him, and stepped on his neck when the flurry toppled him. Medic bent down and placed a finger on Spy's chest, hand curved around an invisible scalpel. He moved it, first in slow, hesitant arcs, and then in quick, graceful loops, and finished with forceful and jagged lines. There was little he hadn't touched. He released Spy, and moved back into the sun.

"Forgive me if I am not as lively as I should be," said Medic as Spy joined him, "My body is fresh, but so is my memory." Spy brushed the dust off his suit, but kept his eyes lowered. "When?" Spy asked quietly.

"RED's last satellite base. You were shooting at my heels. Thank you for that, but he found me alone, eventually. Dragged me here. It couldn't have been an hour, but it was an...eventful one. I'm afraid I don't need a tour of your base, Spy. I admired the interior when I was hobbling for the exit. What was left of me, anyway." He cleared his throat and opened his mouth several times as if to speak. Spy slipped a cigarette into Medic's hands and took one himself. He lit them and waited. Medic watched the battle and tried to speak again. "Spy," he said.

"Don't make that terrible face, just speak."

"This unfortunate doctor of ours, he said something as he carved me. Well, he said many things, but...tell me...am I the only one?"

"You are the latest," said Spy, "assuming he isn't entertaining anyone at the moment."

"How do you let this continue? Why doesn't anyone report?"

Spy laughed. "Our beloved contract doesn't cover this. Your misadventure with the RED Scout appears almost infantile."

"Wh-what? And no! Don't bring that up. I am nothing like him."

"How so?"

Medic looked away. His eyes rested on some insignificant detail in the landscape as he thought. Spy lit another cigarette. The doctor continued looking at the spec and said, "I have restraint. And when I do not, I am ashamed. I have compassion. And when I do not, I feel regret. I am curious, but I am considerate. I do not know what he did to you all. But...if you desired it again, I...I would..." He stopped. Medic folded his arms and said, more to himself than to Spy, "Maybe it's inevitable. Maybe his inhumanity is my fate."

"If you become like him, I will force you outside the limits of Respawn and correct that myself. Personal favor," said Spy.

Medic laughed and said, "I look forward to that." The cart was almost halfway to the RED base.

Spy adjusted his tie and asked, "Out of curiosity, does your Scout remember anything of that night?"

"He doesn't have to. I told him."

Spy nearly swallowed his cigarette. He gripped the balustrade and fell into a coughing fit as Medic turned back to the battle and waited silently. RED was retreating.

"That must have been," he said, coughing and speaking intermittently, "a pleasant afternoon."

"He avoids me now. He trembles and fidgets when I am near him, and his face pales at the sound of my voice. But he forgives me."

"That is a liberal definition of forgiveness."

"He thanks me for healing scratches when before, he would run as soon as I would finish reconstructing a third of his body, and he has put down BLU's every attempt at flanking me since we spoke, more so than even our sniper. He is still afraid, but it will pass. He adapts quickly, recovers quickly. He is arrogant, but he learns and grows."

"RED has found itself a sniper. So that is who killed me so...uninterestingly," Spy said. He exhaled forcefully. The cart was one downhill ride away from entering the RED base. "Since honesty is fashionable at the moment, I suppose I should do my part. Tell me, did anyone survive that overzealous mission on RED so long ago?"

Medic frowned and said, "The after-hours bombing? No one."

Spy lit a cigarette. "How many Demomen did BLU have before that night?" he asked.

"Three."

"And after?"

The sun inflamed the lens of Medic's glasses as he turned to Spy. "What are you implying?"

"How many, doctor?"

"I...I don't..."

"You have memorized the family, medical and personal histories of every teammate you have ever had," Spy said, his voice rising, "How many Demomen were on BLU the day after the plot failed?"

Medic shook his head and said, "We have fought them countless times since then; there is no way-"

"There were four," Spy said. "And yes, you have faced them many times, but hasn't there been one who has consistently lagged behind? Done the least damage? Shown the least bloodlust? Mysteriously absent from every Humiliation?"

Medic stepped back and yelled, "He was a new hire! They are always skittish and hesitant, they always...they..." Medic's preconceptions seemed to fall apart even as he gave them voice. A distant roar gave a fitting backdrop to his horror. The RED base seemed to unravel in the air behind them, and shrapnel rained onto the battlefield as Medic brought both palms to his forehead and leaned on the balustrade for support.

Spy took a drag and said, "Have your revelation a little faster, doctor, the victors will return soon."

Medic shook his head vigorously and said, "How could he have been silent, then? We would have drowned both administrations with calls and letters and petitions, refused to fight, bribed, extorted and threatened our own superiors; we would have gone to hell and back just to TRY to save him!"

Spy shuffled awkwardly. He had given the matter considerable thought since speaking to the man on that same spot not 24 hours ago. "He may have felt that it was his punishment for surviving when all around him disappeared," Spy said. "You and Soldier may have felt similarly, but you two were in your beds, safe and oblivious. He had suffered until daybreak, and woke in the arms of his enemy to find that he had suffered alone, and that he was obliged to murder the only two friends he had left in this desert every day until the end of his contract. A lesser man would have been destroyed. He started a new life."

"Take me to him."

Spy chuckled and looked toward the ruptured RED base. "He had a 'bit of a ride'."

Medic's breathing became shallow, but his face brightened. "You mean-"

"He is home. Not of his own choosing, of course, but I didn't expect months of denial and cognitive dissonance to unravel at my convenience."

"'Home', Spy?"

Spy turned back to Medic and said coldly, "An expression, doctor, nothing more. I referred to his preferred team, his old quarters, the bad food, the people, the- "

Medic watched him intently. Spy furiously ground his cigarette into the floor. "There is no time for this," he muttered. "We have to invent a ruse to keep you alive and free myself from suspicion long enough to figure out how to get you away from here."

"There is one," said Medic. "I may not be comfortable, but BLU will see you as a hero."
>> No. 2981
I can't tell you how much I love this story, really. Your writing is beautiful. I'm looking forward to the next update!
>> No. 3092
a really superior piece of fiction here. knucklebiting, can't wait for the next installment. <3
>> No. 3135
Oh. My. GOD, I cannot say how much of a bitch I am for this story! Beautiful use of vocabulary, and the fact that you maintain character throughout is a real delight. I think I read that BLU Medic/Spy bit every day before school, I'm not gonna lie. And I'm not even into that sort of thing. But it gives me chills~
You made me a sadistic yaoi fan for two paragraphs. Fuck.

Please continue this! I'd hate to see it stop~ </3
>> No. 3147
55 Aw man, not that I'm not thrilled that this gem of a fic has been bumped back up, but c'mon, why'd you gotta raise my hopes up like that?

As for the fic, I'm glad that things got patched up between Medic and Scout, even if it had happened off screen. I'm especially glad to see that Scout's making an effort to make peace with Medic, even though he has plenty of reason to not trust Medic ever again.

And I suppose the Demoman who had that run in with Scout in Chapter 15 was the same former Red member? Always wondered why he was so friendly and chatty for a Blu.
But now that he's crossed over, Red Team is almost complete! Spy just needs to get his french ass teamswitched while bringing Medic along with him.

What I don't get is why doesn't Blu votekick crazy Medic off their team? They're all afraid of him, yes, but certainly if they banded together, they can at least put a stop to the teamkilling sprees somehow. Or are they too self centered and "cold" to put extreme effort into it?
Kinda scared for the Blu Scout and Pyro now, Soldier seems to be keeping an eye on Blu Medic, but how long will that last?
I'm also curious about that field agent you've mentioned in the Administrator scenes. I have my suspicions, but I'll just wait for the elaborate plot to unfold in its own time.

One more question and I'll get out of your hair: Chapter 15-16 ish and I guess Scout's flashback in Chapter 19, we find out that sometime during the battle Engie was a Spy. What's irking me is when did Spy get the jump on Engie? Where'd he hide the body before Heavy and Medic arrived by teleporter?
Scout spychecked Engie earlier, (which gave me a much needed laugh and a small d'aww, so thanks for that) so I'm guessing sometime during Scout's duel with Demoman? If so, then damn, Spy's really good at acting. Creepy.

What I like is the small tiny details you sneak in to differentiate the teams, particularly the weapons.
Blu Engie has the gunslinger, Blue Heavy has Natascha, crazy Blu Medic has the Ubersaw, and it looks like Blu Pyro's gonna fix himself an Axtinguisher.
And as usual, your characterizations are all fantastic. Seriously, I can't get enough of your teams. Medic and Spy may be the golden boys in this fic, but my second favorite parts have got to be your Scout and Engie interactions, they're just so human and perfect. I am looking forward to even more of the team dynamic in the next update, though I think it'll be some time before we are reunited with Red team again. Unless you surprise me of course.

Now that I've lathered up my praise, will we be seeing an update soon-ish? Pretty please?
>> No. 3148
Are you going to eventually cover how Heavy and Medic met and got together? If not that's fine, I love how you write all the characters.
>> No. 3166
Sorry for the wait. I've never written anything nearly this size before, and I'm of the opinion that a break ends a dry spell better than trudging ahead without passion. Thank you, everyone who has commented or just read up to this point; nothing is as satisfying as knowing that someone enjoys this.
57: I did address the RED pair before, and I haven't focused on the BLU one yet because they had no pressing reason to interact like the REDs did. I'll try to work a bit more on how they differ as a pair from the RED Heavy and Medic.
56: Everything you've mentioned is either left out purposefully or is yet to be answered. I leave some details out for the reader to work out. I'm largely experimenting but trying not to leave out too much, and from what I hear, scenes like the one you mentioned with Spy fooling Scout haven't been hard to follow.



Chapter 32


"You're a damn hero, you frog. Could'a told us about your little covert operation."

The BLU Spy and Soldier loomed over their prize sitting bound, gagged and blinded.

Soldier swung one mighty arm and clapped Spy on the back. "Get him up and moving out of this disgraceful attic. I want everyone to get a good long look at a prisoner of war." Soldier cut the binds and grabbed the prisoner's arm before Spy stepped between them.

"Now, Soldier, we need to be reasonable. The others would not appreciate this find as much as you and I," said Spy. Soldier yanked Spy's hand off his arm and shoved a finger in his face.

"Stand down, private, I decide what's good for team morale. Your job is done." Soldier grabbed the prisoner's arm again and forced him up. Spy shoved him back down.

"Security is more urgent than morale at the moment," Spy pressed, "What do you think our BLU doctor will say when he knows that his rival is so close at hand? He will..compromise him."

"So?"

Spy gasped and employed his best expression of shock. "But imagine what you could do with this bargaining chip, this trump card, this fortune! You could blackmail RED into the ground, demand resources, negotiate territory, and every one of your demands will be met! But if the BLU Medic harms him," he said, his tone becoming severe, "RED will never cooperate. No, they will infiltrate our base and destroy us from inside. They will do anything to find their doctor."

Soldier waved him off. "Keep mouthing off, Frenchie, and you'll join him. We will not stoop to your smoke and mirrors. We are respectable, and those RED maggots probably don't even know he's gone!"

Spy rubbed his temple as the bound figure struggled to speak through the gag. "Oh no," Spy said mechanically, "It seems our friend has something to say." He removed the gag, and before Soldier could be sufficiently outraged, a voice crept out from behind the dark bag obscuring the man's face.

"Oh, illustrious leader...we...we have ribs...."

Soldier froze. Spy stared at the floor and put his hand over his mouth to curb his cackling.

"Spare me...and RED will surrender its rations..."

Soldier grabbed Medic by the neck. "You're lying," he growled. Spy circled around and appeared to retie the prisoner's binds behind him, or so it seemed to Soldier.

Medic leaned forward and whispered into Soldier's ear through the bag: "I am eating one right now."

"LIAR!" Soldier yelled, and wrenched the bag off the prisoner's head. He yelled again and stumbled backward as the face he revealed smiled knowingly at him, mouth smeared almost ear to ear in rib sauce. Soldier gasped noisily as the prisoner wrestled his arms out of his binds and brought them forward. A row of delectable ribs rested in each palm and sauce dribbled down his fingers and chin.

"Witchcraft!" Soldier seethed.

"You see," the prisoner said, "all we eat are ribs. We are tired of ribs. Help us, Soldier. And we will help you."

Spy dropped to the floor, sobs tearing through his body. Soldier shook his head sagely and said, "My God...I...I--yes! yes, we will...we will help you, I...I am due to debrief the troops now but...s-stay here." Soldier bound and gagged the prisoner again, who didn't resist. Spy rose, tears streaming down his face and soaking his balaclava. "Private," Soldier said softly.

"Yes, Soldier," Spy whimpered.

"Are you well enough to watch this man until I return?" He asked, pointing to Medic.

"Yes, Soldier."

Soldier saluted him. "Stay strong, private. We will liberate the rations."

"Wait," said Spy as Soldier prepared to leave, "If you tell anyone of what transpired here...they will take this man and conspire to exchange him for your reward before you do. Do not let them cheat you."

Soldier sniffed and straightened to his full height. "Not a chance in hell, son." He left the room. Spy opened his mouth but Medic mumbled and shook his head at him before Spy could speak. Sure enough, Soldier returned a few seconds later. He came to Medic, snatched the two rows of ribs from his lap, and ran out of the room.

Feeling fit to burst, Spy finally lapsed into hysterics. Medic's chuckles were muffled against his bind until Spy undid Medic's gag.

"I knew you were resourceful, but is it customary to have a supply of ribs at hand for interrogations?" Medic asked.

Spy answered in between lingering snorts and giggles, "One must always serve their audience!" They fell into a laughing fit again. "I was more impressed with your improvisation, Medic," Spy said.

Medic smirked. "I may have had some practice," he said. "I was not always a doctor."
Spy raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Film, stage? Oh, please tell me later, first get that filth off your face."

Soldier returned soon, led Spy into the empty conference room, and negotiated the terms of the exchange well into the night. Spy convinced the BLU Soldier that RED lined their pockets with whatever ribs they hadn't yet used up for target practice. Between sobs, Soldier agreed to surrender Medic once Spy procured a signed agreement from RED that would relinquish their entire supply in exchange for their doctor. Soldier had his shortcomings, but he was no fool. He was aware that a signed document was an instrument of power after Administration had forbidden a BLU Demoman from wearing trousers for three missions after he was stupid or inebriated enough to sign and lose a documented bet with the BLU Engineer, one he hadn't even remembered signing the morning after. Soldier wrote down the terms of the agreement and gave them to Spy.

Spy frowned at the large 'RED SOLDIER SIGN HERE" written over a shakily drawn line. "Why the RED Soldier? Why not the first RED I find?" asked Spy.

"Does a general negotiate with peasants? No! He goes to kings and sultans and tsars! I will accept no amendments to this contract. Meeting adjourned," he said, and left. Spy climbed several floors and unlocked the room Medic was given, with only a washbasin and a cot to his name. He rose from it as Spy entered.

"Well?" Medic asked.

Spy lit a cigarette. "He was terribly lenient," Spy said, "I only need to present a written contract to one RED mercenary."

Medic sighed. "Perfect. Once we relocate to our next base, find our Demoman and arrange the drop off."

Spy made a strained face. "Ah, well, he was...specific about whose signature he wanted," Spy said, and showed Medic the contract. The doctor sat on the cot and put his head in his hands.

"Forget it."

"Pardon?"

"We have to think of something else."

Spy stood imposingly over Medic until the doctor looked up. "You are pathetic," Spy spat. "He will say no? Jeopardize his team's safety and success? Broadcast his insufferable insecurities across both teams? Make enemies of his own teammates? Did Autobalance vaporize your common sense, doctor?"

Medic rose threateningly and said, "Go to him then. Go and tell him to surrender what he doesn't have for a teammate he doesn't want. Do it before morning, when a man who would trade a hostage for processed meat will try to smuggle me in a train car as BLU relocates. Do it before BLU finds out that one of their Demomen wasn't lost in Respawn but given to the enemy. Before the BLU Engineer convinces anyone that he was framed. Forget it, I said. We'll think of something else.

Spy turned to leave. "I will see you again in BLU's new base," he said, and added vehemently, "WITH the signature."

Spy traveled to BLU's next base. The RED base was startlingly close to it, and Spy couldn't identify any carts or control points. He had intercepted enough phone calls to determine where the new bases were, but not what either team would be doing. On any other occasion, he would welcome the suspense, but his mind strained with enough volatile loose ends as it was. He hoped he had made enough necessary arrangements before he left. Employing the services of civilian contacts was his least favorite backup plan. It was messy. But he was desperate.

Spy put on the watch whose cloak drained with motion and he entered the RED base. The exterior was fluid and open, with numerous walkways and staircases leading to balconies, catwalks and a massive underground drainage network that led to an identical BLU underground system. The bases were connected by a Double Crossing: two pathways, one which connected the twin drainage systems, and one above it which joined the bases at their entrances. When he became fully acquainted with the battlements, he slipped into the residential portion of the base. He found the RED Scout's room first, whose door was left entirely open. He sat still, which was startling enough for a scout, and appeared to be staring the opposite wall into submission. Only an occasional blink suggested that he was not a statue.

Engineer's door was open halfway. Spy, given his slender frame, slipped in without disturbing it. The RED Engineer sat at a desk, which was a smaller, less impressive version of the drafting table he usually keeps in his workshop. There was nothing on it. He had steepled his fingers, rested his chin on his hands, and propped both elbows on the wooden surface. He took a deep breath and turned around as Spy stepped in. Spy couldn't believe it. He had put on a new suit and refrained from smoking for hours to avoid being detected by smell. Engineer exhaled and stood. His eyes wandered over Spy through the nothingness, as if daring him to reappear. Engineer scowled and sat on his bed. Spy didn't move.

"Sure ain't as strong, pardner, but you're forgettin' who you're tryin' to fool: someone who can tell through the stink of gunfire and burning metal that you've changed brands three times in the time that I've been here," he said, and rubbed his chin. He stood, closed the one window in the room, and sat on the bed again. "If you're here, close the door," he said. Spy didn't move. Engineer breathed in again. He reached under the mattress and took out a pistol, loaded it, and threw it to the opposite end of the room, out of his own reach. "Can't think of a better gesture of trust than that in these parts," said Engineer. "Close the door. I need your help, long as you're snooping here already."

Spy took the pistol. He watched as Engineer's eyes followed the floating barrel as it pointed at him. He swallowed loudly, but didn't move. Spy lowered the gun and closed the door, still cloaked.

"Jus' shows how wrong this all is if I'm beggin' you for a favor," said Engineer. He wrung his hands. "Rosters say there's a second doc on your team. Ours went MIA as soon as he died today and didn't respawn. I know you've got your toes in everyone's affairs so can you...is....is he--"
"It's him," said Spy.

Engineer laughed hoarsely. "Scared me outta my wits, that sonuvabitch," he said. "Told Scout not to find the employment contract and look up the section on Respawn malfunction. Dumb kid can't sleep now. And that Demo, he--" He suddenly stopped smiling. "You're not foolin' with me, are you?"

"Why else relieve an enemy's fears and anxieties?"

"I'm sure you're slick enough to think of a reason."

"You're an inspiration, Engineer. I just have."

"Yeah? Let me have it."

"I have relieved you with the truth, but you cannot do the same to the rest unless you enjoy being convicted of treason. Or madness."

Engineer shook his head and said, "Dangit, that's right."

"Wouldn't it be easier to hear it from the man himself?"

Engineer stood. "Medic?" he asked, "is he here?"

"No, but you can make that happen," Spy said, and put the hostage agreement beside Engineer, who read it and alternated between chuckling and sputtering indignantly.

"Do I look like a simpleton?"

"Maybe, maybe not, Engineer, but my Soldier apparently is. Make your Solider sign on that line and the RED Medic is yours. Once you have him, I'm sure a terribly intelligent man like yourself can reconfigure the doctor into your roster."

"You want our Soldier to surrender our ribs?"

"Oui."

"Ribs we do not have?"

"I have contacts who owe me favors."

"In exchange for someone he can't stand?"

Spy groaned noisily and kicked the chair at Engineer's desk.

The door flung open and Scout flew in. He saw Engineer on the bed, and the tipped over chair on the floor. "Hey," Scout said, and plopped down next to him, "can I throw stuff too?"

"No," said Engineer, and shooed him off. "Go to bed, Scout. And brush your teeth, you know they stink to high heaven right outta Respawn."

"Sure, MOM," Scout said. He left the room and slammed the door.

"That ain't a mouth, son, it's a dang biohazard!" Engineer yelled after him. He breathed in again once he was alone, but the already faint scent of cigarette smoke was gone, as was the contract.

Spy passed the RED Pyro's room while very narrowly overcoming a soul-consuming desire to throttle the thing in its sleep. He passed the Heavy with infinite care, not caring to see if the class shared light sleeping habits across factions. He then came to a closed door. There was a faint flicker behind it that glimmered feebly through the gaps between the door and its frame. Spy knocked. The RED Demoman opened and stepped out as Spy slipped in past him.

The Demoman looked in all directions several times before mumbling and shutting the door. Spy uncloaked as the Demoman turned around.

"Bloody--" Demoman lurched backward, his back smacking into a wall. "Christ!" He balled up a discarded shirt and launched it at Spy.

"Good to see you too," Spy mumbled as he tore the shirt from his face.

"Don't get fancy with me," he barked as he balled up a pair of trousers, "I should glue a sticky to yer tongue fer that!"

"For giving you what you wanted?" asked Spy as he dodged a second throw.

"Fer tricking me, ye...spy!" Demoman said, and laughed. "Nah, I can't keep this up. Bloody exhausted already," he said, and sat on a bed. Spy leaned against the opposite wall and looked around the room, which was already full with crates of Scrumpy and other personal items, as if the room the Demoman had left the day of his first Autobalance was never touched since.

"Kept all my junk, doc and Solly," Demo said as he watched Spy survey the room. "Kept everyone's crap from old RED. Sent it all back to headquarters for safekeepin' after the bomb plot. Damned sappy bastards. Found it all in this room when I respawned here, so I'm guessin' administration's got me paperwork fixed already. Happy endings, one after another."

"RED took you in?" Spy asked.

"Oh, I wish. The RED Scout knocked my skull out when he saw me, thought I was you. Second time I was killed for being you in a very short time, mind."

"Being me is not for the faint of heart."

"Yeah yeah, save yer verses for damsels and listen. When I respawned with RED after BLU Engie gut me, Soldier found me. He pinned me down as the rest respawned around us, but he wasn't as rough as he could have been, so I let him pretend to toss me around. He told everyone else to keep the cart from lumberin' on and dragged me to another room. I dunno if it was bein' up close without guns goin' off all around us, but he recognized me. Obstinate, unfeelin' madman, but he recognized me. Said he'd strangle the first whelp on RED who even whimpered in my direction," said Demoman, trying not to smile stupidly. He looked at Spy, who was frowning and shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"You'll find yer way here soon enough, lad, only a matter of time."

"What? Oh, you poor thing, how else could I have convinced you to activate Autobalance? I have no interest in this unfortunate accident you call a team--"

"Come off it, ye arse. Think you're not as obvious as a blushin' schoolgirl? Don't insult me, man."

Spy's hand shot for his cigarette case, but he resisted. "I don't have all night. I assume you know where our doctor is?"

Demoman giggled and said, "'Our' doctor? Yer not even tryin' anymore. But yeah, I checked the rosters; poor man was sent to BLU. RED was a soddin' shitstorm when the doc didn't show up. I played dumb and told 'em I had no idea how I got here, so since they've got no clue about Autobalance, they're in the dark about damn near everything. Especially Soldier."

Spy snorted. "I don't see how he needs special mention."

"Then you're just like 'em. I meant that RED has no bloody clue what their own Soldier is thinkin'. I've known him longer than every soul for miles around combined and quadrupled, and I know when he's tearing himself apart. He's still in the Respawn room. Waiting."

Spy tore into his jacket and took out the hostage agreement. "Then I suppose this wasn't a waste of time," he said. Demoman snatched it. He read it and laughed raucously until Spy grabbed a discarded sock and shoved it in his mouth.

Demoman laughed through the sock. He then spat it out, gave the paper back to Spy and said, "Bless this fuckin' fool."

"Save your blessings for the fool who must sign it," said Spy.

The door to the Respawn room creaked open. Everything creaked in the RED base. Engineer stepped in and cleared his throat softly. There was a dark mass on a bench opposite the row of inner Respawn rooms. Engineer stepped closer, squinting through the dark.

"Soldier?"

Soldier answered with a grunt.

Engineer stepped forward and said, "There's a spy in the base."
>> No. 3167
Exciiitemeeeent! :'D Ribs? Really, though? It's certainly a moment of "what the fuck" in this story, but I appreciate the comic relief after the plan almost went to hell. <3

Can't wait for the next part! Good job once again!
>> No. 3171
I'm so happy about this update, and I already can't wait for the next one. The whole ribs fiasco was hilarious, I have to admit I read it twice, because I didn't see it coming and was like "wut?" Not that that's a bad thing, of course.

I love how close the RED team is, and despite his stubbornness, Soldier's whole waiting in the respawn is just really sweet, I think. I'm looking forward to seeing how this pans out. Also, the Pyro and Engineer interaction in one of the previous chapters was just too cute :)

One question I do have is, what about the RED Sniper? I think he was only mentioned once or twice and hasn't actually had any dialogue or introduction of his own so far? I'm curious about what the team thinks of him. Or will you be getting to that later on?

At any rate, excellent writing as usual!
>> No. 3193
Oh god, that entire interrogation scene, I felt like I was gonna die from inhaling my laughter. It doesn't help that the comedy was totally unexpected and caught me off guard, but man it was so damn perfect reading Medic and Spy acting their parts and Blue Soldier just eating it up.
I tip my Towering Pillar of Hats to you for the silly yet totally in character-ness of it all.
I have to admit, I despaired that Soldier and Medic's camaraderie would be in disrepair for a long time if not forever. So Demo mentioning that Soldier was still waiting for Medic, even after their terrible spat, it warmed my heart.
What's also heartwarming is the lengths Spy is going for to bring the Red Team back together. The fact that he's frustrated at both Medic and Engineer for giving up so easily is subtle yet speaks volumes.
Can't wait for the next update!
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