The Team Meets the Team (Part 2) --- Part Two The Engineer, having spent an entire 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. Thinking he had slept through the morning bell, he dressed quickly, rushed out of his room, and collided into someone right outside. He spoke quickly as he fumbled with the supplies in his arms. "Sorry, partner, thought I was the last one h-" "Engie?" The Engineer froze at the small voice, and looked up to see that he had bumped into Scout. He cleared his throat awkwardly and lifted his goggles. He thought they distorted his perception, but no, the boy was sickeningly pale. "Shouldn't you be in the infirmary, boy?" he started, but his voice trailed as he realized that he must have said something wrong, because Scout's face quickly 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 into a cracked whisper. The boy's face was twisted into a mess of fear and pain and disgust, and as Engineer opened and closed his mouth incredulously, he understood that the boy had escaped the infirmary. Scout swore some more and ran. The Engineer waited a few minutes before heading down that same hallway that led to the mess hall. The attacks were ludicrous and unfounded and yet, they left the Engineer more surprised at his own internal reaction than at its cause. He shouldn't be worked up by that boy; it just wasn't practical. But he reasoned that he would be put as some ease if he spoke to the team. The Engineer learned from the Medic that they were free to rest for the day while RED's new outpost was under preliminary renovation. He also learned that Scout had left his bed sometime in the night and was not seen since. Neither the Medic nor the Soldier seemed fazed by this. The responses he got from them unsettled him: "A deserter is another word for traitor, which is commonly interchangeable with maggot." "Dummkopf should have read zhe job description." The Engineer felt the incredibly irrational guilt that his death was the cause of the boy's equally irrational behavior, and the veteran REDs were not of much comfort. 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 anyone who disturbed him there. As for the Medic, the Engineer would struggle to find someone as unpredictable and distant as he. It was not his business. The boy would come to in due time, and by then, he'd have a new device for the team to marvel over. He would not get involved. These were his thoughts, and he adhered to them 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 the Engineer became. He only had a few lazy minutes of twilight left after hours of turning the entire base on its head in search of Scout. 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 dejectedly, looking at the threateningly 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. Then 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 you. Come on back, boy, you're sick as a dog." He took a few steps back to get a better view. Scout turned his head away from the Engineer, 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." As he said this, albeit with a hint of uncertainly, the last of the glaringly red light spilled past the horizon. It seemed to snatch Engineer's patience as a parting gift. "You keep this up and your death'll be no better than mine." Scout remained silent after that. The Engineer briefly wondered if he had gone too far. He called to him several more times, and when he received no answers, he wrung his hands and turned to leave, taking his time returning to his workshop. Once there, he lit a small gas lamp. It was still dark, but the one lamp was enough. The Engineer hoped that his last words had at the very least registered to Scout: "I got something in my workshop that might patch you up. No doc. No drugs. I'll stay the night if you decide to come by. Do what you like, boy, but remember - you don't have a ticket to Respawn after hours." That was a lie, of course. When he was not consistently upgrading his buildings, he sneaked out at night to tinker with the marvel that was the Respawn system. It was an unbridled joy to him to find that the machine had not been updated in years. As he sat on his workshop bench, he imagined the reactions of RED in a few days when they realized that Respawn was now activated during every hour of every day. He grinned to himself and expected that the Medic would appreciate it most. He was not sure by how much, but one would have to be a strange doctor to not appreciate the benefits of such an upgrade. One door to the workshop led outside. It was this door that opened and let a clumsy Scout stumble into the room. Engineer approached him carefully, as one would approach a skittish animal. Scout fumbled with his footing, but managed to sit down on a bench. Engineer sighed in relief. At least the boy possessed some miniscule inkling of self preservation. "So, Engie clone. Where's your...your..." He leaned forward and his arms folded around his abdomen. The Engineer pulled a large, dark object toward Scout. "...your med kit, where...where is it?" The candle's yellow light struck Scout's face. It was demanding and haughty even in its depraved, shrunken state. The Engineer grunted as he slowly set the large, rectangular thing next to the bench. Scout took it upon himself to throw back the thing's tattered cover. "What's thi- oh. I don't need a fucking jukebox, man. This some kinda joke?" The Engineer laughed at the boy's scowl. "Kid, this ain't no jukebox. If it works, it'll ruddy up that face o' yours before you're done with your next stab at my humanity." Scout looked on dumbly as the Engineer's fingers flew on the knobs too quickly to focus on. Scout's head dipped lazily several times before the machine hissed and lit up, illuminating the dark workshop in a saturated red light. "Wh-what is that?" "This here beauty's a dispenser. I assemble it during a mission, and it provides us all with unlimited ammo. It also -" "What the hell, Engie clone, I don't need MORE bullets. I thought you had a med ki-" "Hush up and lay down on the bench, son." Scout glared and did what he was told, letting his heels knock on the floor when his long legs extended past the short bench. "I think your jukebox is screwin' with my eyes, man, I can't see shit." The Engineer leaned back against the wall and watched the red fumes envelop the boy. "Those fumes ain't much different from those in Medic's medigun. The basic components I found in a spare, so I don't think he'd mind my experiments too much. Don't know too much on how that device works but hopefully, integrating some of it into the dispenser'll fix you up somewhat," he said. "So you ain't sure if it works." "Well, it is a prototype, so I'm not one hundred percent sure," he said, and added quietly, "Trust me, boy." Scout scoffed and mumbled something incoherent. The soft vapors draped over his body, entering through his mouth and his nose and even the pores of his pallid skin. He trembled at the odd sensation of a draft in an airless room. "Scout." "Yeah, what?" "Tell me, why'd ya take this job?" "Why the hell's a clone gotta know that?" "Now see, I remember why you took this job. You were the one who told me, too." The Engineer grinned at the indignant Scout, who said quietly, "I told Engie. I didn't tell his freakin' clone." "Fine, then, you told Engie. You told him on the train that you were fixin' to get your folks a bit o' money. Told 'im you wanted to make somethin' of yourself. And he...I know you still want that, Scout. You slipped up a little by not readin' your papers, but you can still catch up." Engineer paused for a moment. "Just don't take too long, son. We ain't gonna wait forever." Scout mumbled again, and folded his arms. Engineer understood that as a sign to slow down. He silently pulled up a chair next to the bench, and sat, watching Scout's chest rise and fall as the red fumes closed the last of his minor wounds - remnants of his adventures on and off the battlefield. He briefly wondered why Medic could not have simply trained his medigun on Scout after extracting the bullet. Surely a doctor must hate seeing his patients in such prolonged pain? It must be some unwritten regulation, Engineer thought. Although he was not adjusting to his new position as clumsily as Scout, he was not exempt from the occasional mishap. Although Respawn took care of the livid bruising he received for once touching a certain teammate's shovel, he could not help but shield his chest when approached by said teammate. Scout spoke first."Engie." "Hm?" "How did it... how does dyin' feel like?" "It...it ain't somethin' I can describe with plain words." "That bad, huh?" The Engineer studied Scout's face in this exchange, and saw a boy no older than twenty struggling to understand why he was afraid of not being able to die. The Engineer sighed softly, and saw no harm in revealing his own sentiments on the matter. "No use philosophizin' on the job, son. Especially not on this one. Best if you just let everything run its course." Scout screwed up his nose at the vague answer. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. His voice came low and unsteady. "I shake when I'm supposed to be bashin' heads in. I can't reload my fuckin' gun cause I'm all butterfingers with the bullets. Why am I doin' this? I ain't a wimp, Engie. I'm not." He turned around and glared at Engineer, as if daring him to think otherwise. Engineer shook his head and threw his hands up defensively. "I don't believe that at all, boy, not at all." Scout huffed and tapped his fingers on his chest. Engineer rubbed his closely shaved head. The night was fairly silent behind their exchange, and the lazy silence that followed it reminded them both of their building fatigue. Engineer had barely come out of his yawn when he asked, "I wanna ask you somethin'." Scout grunted. "You're callin' me Engie again. Should I read into that?" "Quit philosphisizing on the job," Scout mumbled. Engineer laughed softly as Scout's breathing slowed into a steady, rhythmic pace. Despite the introduction of the RED dispenser, and the Engineer's successful persuading to let Scout fight again, the next day's battle was, in the RED Soldier's memory, the worst he had ever seen. He had respawned after the Medic, with the Engineer following closely after. Embarrassed beyond belief, Engineer and Medic sat a distance apart on the common room's couch, struggling to live through Soldier's recount of the day's events. "Five minutes, men. It took FIVE. MINUTES-" The Engineer shifted in his seat. Medic's palm slowly and graciously met his face. "-for the BLU scum to destroy this disgraceful team. Medic, I did not give you clearance to hover over Engineer like a possessive mother hen while eight men charged me on the front lines! If he cannot crush a crouton munching bug like a man, then he will die like a maggot." "Soldier, zhis is madne-" "NO." Soldier stomped toward the RED Medic and lifted his helmet to look the annoyed man in the eyes. "MADNESS is a team that refuses to cooperate. THAT, officer, is madness. AND YOU," he continued, turning to the Engineer. "Doze off on the job again, private, and you'll be scrubbing the ceilings. But no, I am not done with you. You persuaded us to let that boy fight today. Tell me, officer, how many of my direct orders do you think he disobeyed today?" The Soldier broke into a threatening whisper, and his voice all but broke from restraining his abject fury as he answered his own question. "Every. Damn. One." "Give him time, Soldier, he'll come around," Engineer sputtered. The Soldier began to pace in a circle, muttering something about Scout 'coming around' after he had wrung his scrawny neck. The Engineer hung his head. The Medic glared at the clock. "Respawn should not take zhis long." Shortly after a second and far more colorful tirade from the Soldier, the front door unlocked, swung open and shut in the distance. The Soldier glared disbelievingly at the Scout as he panted past them and locked himself in his room. "He...escaped from zhe battlegrounds. And ran back here, no less," the Medic stammered, managing to look awestruck and irritated at the same time. The Soldier turned to the Engineer again, all indignation and bulging veins. "SEE THAT RETREATING DISGRACE? THAT IS A GRADE 'A' COWA-" He stopped mid-sentence and looked at his teammates distantly, as if he had remembered something important. He sighed and resumed with a gentler but authoritative tone. "It is beyond dishonorable to question our employers, but I simply cannot allow this insubordination of this rookie to continue. I will not." "Solly, what do y-" "Medic agrees, correct?" "I suppose I must." The Engineer turned from a smug face to an indifferent one and back again. "Hold on there just a minute, you two, what the heck is goin' on?" The Medic stood and clapped his gloved hands together. "Allow me to explain. In zhe interest of time and money, zhe company had shared a certain number of...privileges with us mercenaries." The Soldier grunted in agreement as Medic continued, "Zhe most important one, in my opinion, is the one that allows us to disband a teammate. Not counting zhe offender himself, half of zhe team must agree to his release." The Medic took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief, which gave him an excuse to not look at the gaping Engineer as he spoke. " It may have been a mistake to praise beginner's luck. Zhe Scout's erratic behavior is hurting zhe team; you cannot deny zhis." "I guess," said the Engineer. He leaned back on the sofa, suddenly feeling very tired, and very cheated. "Excellent!" the Soldier piped up, "If all of us agree, then we can send the letter today!" "Solly, I ain't agreein' to anything," said the Engineer. Soldier's mood did a near instant about face. The Engineer folded his arms. "I understand the conundrum, fellas. But, in all honesty, I reckon Scout will pull through. He's too stubborn not to." As he finished, Soldier brought his palms to his face and groaned. The Medic scoffed as the Soldier stormed off and said, "Zhat is of no concern to us. A week from arrival is zhe traditional waiting period to kick a new recruit. If you had agreed, zhen it could have been done immediately, but...we can wait four days." The Medic made to leave the room and said one last thing over his shoulder. "Do not take it to heart, Engineer. I will not allow such events to mar your own performance." The Engineer retired to his room and closed the door. He sat on his bed. He thought. Maybe he was wrong about the boy. Maybe he was wrong to take this all to heart. --- The next two days bled into one for the RED team. There was little difference between them because both served to demonstrate even further that the youngest member of RED was simply too young. Although he had become less skittish in their skirmishes than he was before, his performance was not convincing. He made a habit of stunning isolated members of BLU from rooftops and cliffs with his baseball, but no one was enough of a fool to consider this a great help. The Soldier did not bother giving him orders anymore, and the Medic only barely resisted scrawling 'part time sniper' in the boy's files. Engineer spoke minimally with his teammates. Both battles were barely won. The starting gates edged closer to the BLU's fortress with each victory. RED had by then seized the supply train for themselves, and took to hoarding even the most insignificant bolt and screw for themselves to starve BLU of food and supplies. Medic and Soldier led this far more subtle mission in a frantic bid to rid the area of BLU for good. On the third day, BLU had evidently devised a brilliant strategy of their own. This revolutionary approach consisted of dumping every manner of explosive and projectile onto the point for as long as possible. This made the RED Soldier's ambushing techniques useless in the considerably smaller areas both teams were forced into. The RED Soldier and Medic had managed to put down half of BLU before the Soldier, in what was clearly his only justifiable excuse from battle, left his body scattered among those of his enemies. The RED Medic retreated behind Engineer's sentry and impatiently paced around the dispenser as it closed his fresh cuts and burns. When the gash on his lip closed, he turned to the Engineer. "Engineer, where is your shotgun?" "Right here, doc." "Good. Soldier is unable to continue. You will go on zhe offensive today." The Engineer waited for the punchline. So did Scout. The Medic groaned irritably at the silence."Mein Gott, I will be right behind you." He gestured with the medigun in his hands, whose healing vapor was pouring onto Engineer. "Well, I dunno, doc..." "Hurry, zhey are regrouping at this very moment. We need to stall zhem for several minutes, at most. BLU does not know zhe meaning of rationing supplies, so we must -" "Hey doc, what about me?" Scout edged closer and looked up at Medic expectantly. "Zhis is serious, Scout." "What the hell, man, so am I!" He rose to his full height and approached the doctor confrontationally, taking little notice that the older man continued to tower over him. "I mean, aren't Scouts offensive classes or somethin'?" "Zhat applies to Scouts who read more zhan zhe first subheading of zheir contracts. Besides," he said quietly, "Zhis is a delicate procedure." Scout groaned in frustration and turned his back on the both of them. Even as the others winced and shifted uneasily at the ever closer rippling explosions, even as their heads pounded each time the Engineer's wrench met cold metal, and even as the German doctor swore nervously in his native tongue, the Scout stood still and silent, his fervent blue eyes darting in every direction. "D-doc," he said, breathlessly. He was the first to notice the BLU Soldier round the corner. The man appeared, briefly declared his undying hatred for RED, and fired a single rocket at their sentry before retreating from its violent knockback. Medic shoved Scout out of the way as Engineer fussed over his battered gun. He tenderly shushed its creak and whine as he upgraded it for the coming assault. Medic seized the front of Scout's shirt and hauled him behind another of the canyon's large, abandoned shacks. Like large, flittering insects, the enemy slipped in and out of canyon crevices and lobbed and ducked and fired again. It is as if they have all the ammunition in the world, Medic thought. Is it an airlift? Did they merely have a large stockpile? The doctor scowled and felt fairly offended that, despite the captured train, they were still being drowned in explosives. "How many do you count, Engineer?" The RED Medic yelled to the Engineer as he and his sentry became the prime target for BLU's bombardment. The Engineer hollered back over the menacing din. "Three, doc! They've got a Soldier and Demo, and I-" Engineer covered his face before a blue pipe bomb bounced off the shack and slammed into his sentry. Its maker jeered at him and disappeared behind the canyon wall. Engineer continued holding the machine in one piece as he chuckled wryly, "-I'd wager by that intrepidness that they've got a Medic of their own behind the lines." "Excellent, Engineer," Medic yelled back, sweat beading on his brow, before turning to Scout. "Listen carefully, Scout. If we eliminate zhe BLU Medic from zheir ranks, zhe battle is won. Zhey will not be able to continue zheir assault without immediate aid. Scout." Medic stooped a bit until his eyes were level with Scout's. "Yeah?" Scout responded, although it was an airy, distracted sound. Medic inhaled deeply. "Engineer must keep zhe sentry operational. You are zhe only one left who can push back." Scout stared silently at his Medic, at the control point, and at Medic again. Before the doctor could understand the strange expression on the boy's face, Medic's ears were assaulted with the grating screech of a collapsed dispenser. The Engineer sputtered as he inadvertedly inhaled the foul stench his smashed building kicked up. "Ain't gonna last much longer without the dispenser, fellas!", he shouted hoarsely. Almost immediately after the warning, the canyon became silent. The sentry rotated shakily. Its distorted beeping became the only sound. Medic did not know or care why BLU retreated. He gripped Scout's shoulder again and leaned closer to his ear. "You will hit zhe Medic and zhe Medic only, and zhen you will retreat, understand? Do not run far without looking back - zhe medigun cannot extend forever, and you are far faster zhan I am. Keep to zhe Demoman's left flank and zhe Soldier's-" "Hit and run, yeah, yeah I got it, now let's g-" "Wait..." "Wh-" And then Scout heard it as well - a faint crackle. "Verdammt." Scout, who was watching the Engineer intently, looked up at the Medic confusedly as he swore. When he looked back, the sentry was unrecognizable. Engineer lay on his front, unmoving. The laughing Demoman and his partner flickered blue as their charge finished. In the mere seconds in which he had taken his eyes off of the field, the ubercharged BLU had stripped them of their greatest defense. Seconds. Medic sighed raggedly, and gripped the boy's shoulder. "Let zhem take it," he whispered, as he grimaced at BLU's revolting cheers. "It's too late to-" Scout shoved the doctor's hand away and turned to face him. His brow descended, and his lips drew back to bare his gnashing teeth. "No, doc," he said, and stepped out of the cover of the broken shadows thrown by the shack. Medic wasn't sure what to scold Scout for first. But the way Scout's tensing muscles made his body tremble almost unnoticably, his twitching bottom lip, and that old, haughty grin inspired nostalgia in the Medic. It was frighteningly familiar to what were Scout's features in his first battle. "No, you learn to keep fightin' when your dumb predictions fall flat," he said. Scout shifted once on his heels and charged the enemy. For some inexplicable reason, the day's progression from bad to horrible changed him, Medic thought. It quickened his breath and destroyed his reason. And yet, as the RED Medic watched, Scout strafed and slid past BLU's panicked shots with the disturbing ease that could only ever come from the most vigilant observation and reaction. He pushed between them, behind them, and even jumped from one's arched back to another's shoulders and off again as his victims whirled and shot everywhere. A rocket maimed the BLU Demoman. A pipe bomb wedged itself in his teammate's medical equipment. A bone saw flailed and fingers followed. The RED Medic wanted in his arsenal as many arguments against Scout's presence in RED as possible, but his resolve worsened with every second he spent watching Scout destroy the entire BLU team without firing a shot. He shivered, but wasn't sure why. He turned to face the Engineer, who was very much alive and watching the spectacle in front of him with a face brimming with awe. Medic shook his head and berated himself for neglecting his job, and ran to help the wounded Engineer. His brief sprint was stopped by an outstretched foot. He stumbled and his ears caught a nasal snicker. His breath did not even have the time to hitch before he heard a maddeningly familiar voice say, "Much too late for that, doctor", and feel the speaker's cold, metal balisong slip into his back. **************** "Tomorrow we shall storm zhe BLU base as zhey attempt to recapture the area we won today. If all goes well, this corner of zhe desert will belong to RED alone. Any questions?" "I reckon we can do that." "Affirmative." "Yeah, alri-" Medic left the mess hall before Scout finished. Soldier left soon after, despite his full plate; he gave the boy an awkward nod of approval on his way out. Scout sat and continued trying to eat through the disgustingly wide grin on his face. "Ya heard that, Engie? The point 'we' won today. Did you see his stupid white face when he said that?" "Now, Scout, I think you should try to be civil with your teamma-" "I don't think so. Hey, did you see how the BLU Soldier and Demo finished each other off? Should be in a goddamn movie, that sce-" "Well, I saw it with my own two eyes and I can barely believe it. You did a bang up job today, boy. Just wish you weren't so antagonistic with Solly and Medic." "Why not? I'm leaving anyway." Engineer looked up from his mashed potatoes. "I know all about it, Engie," said Scout, mumbling with food still in his mouth, "Ain't that hard to pick things up, especially from Soldier. So they're kickin' me out. Good." "Good? How do you mean, boy?" Engineer didn't buy it. If Scout was renowned for anything, it wasn't for lying. "I don't work with stuck up quitters, Engie. I may not come up with the best battle plans and stuff, but I sure ain't a quitter." Scout swallowed painfully, and decided to take smaller bites. Engineer pushed his scraps around but continued listening to Scout. "You shoulda heard him, the doc! All set to bend over when the stupid BLU's broke your gun. Well I didn't, and-" "Yeah, that's right. I thought you were all set to avoid any sorta open conflicts. But today... Made peace with the Respawn system, then?" "Hell no. I was just.. so mad at Medic and BLU and... and I wanted to show him that I can do it, you know? Even though I was sca- well I wasn't scared, but...but I did it anyway. I showed all of you!" Scout gestured wildly and excitedly, but his eyes failed to hide his desperation. "...but Medic still hates me. He won't even look at me! Not that I care, but it's goddamn confusing, you know?" "I'm not sure what's goin' on with the doc, but I figure th-" There were a series of loud clangs coming from somewhere in the base, as if items were being thrown. They listened to that for a few moments. Scout grunted awkwardly and his face softened. "Engie... s-sorry. You're no clone. Thanks for putting up with me." "Don't mention it, son. Though I can't shake the feelin' that you're saying some sorta goodb-" As he said this, Scout slowly lifted his hand from underneath the table. In it was an old, meticulously shined, military issued metal shovel. If Engineer was ever more horrified in his life than at that moment, then he couldn't remember. "Boy, now y-you are askin' for a trip to Respawn," said Engineer, who was beginning to feel his face pale and chest ache. "I'm not leavin' until I have some fun. They're sending their dumb letter tomorrow, so... I'll play with them today." Scout leaped from his seat and ran. Engineer sat in silence a while longer. He considered his options, but decided not to bother interfering. Scout would learn however it suited him, even if it involved being hung by his toes from the roof. Engineer quickly replaced one worry with another. As he washed up after the others, he was reminded of his current adversary - the Spy. The snake violated his equipment and pestered his teammates with as much leisure as a fat man on holiday. Factor in Medic's stubborn isolation after his death and the unpredictable actions of Scout and Soldier, and one gets a dangerously divided team. Engineer would have waited for everything to return to normalcy, but time was as precious to him now as the first ringing chirps of a newly built sentry. The changes to Respawn must be addressed. Team strategy must begin to include not only the offensive pair, but also him and Scout. And if he was going to be bold, he could even satisfy his own curiosity. He hated to see an equation unsolved. It was akin to ignoring a lost child. What he had in his hands was such an equation, but one that he suspected he would not find the answer in anything he learned before or after completing his eleventh doctoral dissertation. What interested him was that wonderful instrument - the medigun. Never in his life had he seen a device that extracts bullets, closes wounds, and grows tissue as quickly and precisely as did this one. He had borrowed it once himself, with Medic's consent, to create the dispenser. Both worked beautifully, and during ceasefires as well. And although he had rarely seen the medigun's pleasant vapors aimed at Scout, he knew that the boy benefitted from its affect just as anyone would. The dispenser healed him, did it not? Now, what truly robbed Engineer of peace was that not one of his reasons could explain why an intelligent professional like the RED Medic would resort to a crude surgery on Scout when the boy's suffering could have ended momentarily. --- There was a low murmur coming from inside Medic's room. Engineer cleared his throat and knocked twice. A brief silence followed. The doctor emerged, and shut the door behind him with his back, and stood still pressed against its surface. A nervous tick? It would make sense, after today, Engineer reasoned. "Ya got a minute, doc? We gotta discuss some things." "If zhis has anything to do with zhe Scout..." "No, no, it's somethin' else. I wanna talk about that Spy." Maybe Engineer should have approached the topic more delicately; he didn't think Medic would freeze up like that. "What about him?", Medic asked carefully. "I saw what he did today, but I don't think less of you for it, not at all! I'm just riled up, is all." Engineer folded his arms. "We need to figure out how to deal with that man before he finds us some real trouble." "Of course, Herr Engineer. Bring zhe issue up in tomorrow morning's briefing. Good night." "Jus' one more thing" Engineer held open the door after Medic had quickly darted inside. "I've been wonderin' for a while. Scout doesn't get any side effects from the medigun, does he?" "Nein... why?" "No reason; sorry to bother, doc."Engineer thought it best to leave it at that for the moment, and left after wishing Medic a good night. He himself went to sleep more quickly than he expected, despite another dead end, and the fading clangs and death threats erupting from the basement. **************** "If you were any worse at impersonating me, I would have shot you right in front of him." Medic's double chuckled quietly at the threat after he closed the door and flickered out of sight. "If you were any worse at nursing your delicate pride, I would have just made you speak to 'im anyway. Believe me, doctor, the first backstab hurts the most. And I am not referring to physical pain." "Du dreckiger-" "Non, no more of that. Now I am interested in that tidbit the Engineer so cleverly threw in before he left." "I am interested in you leaving." "You do not heal the Scout. Scout is your teammate, non?" "He jumped into zhe conflict without warning. I am no fool, so I did not follow." "Medic." "What?" "Oh, pardon." Spy uncloaked. He wiped off his sheepish smile and resumed what Medic assumed was the face he was making while invisible. The corners of his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed in mock concern. "You are not healing him, you wish to remove him from RED, and you continue to look at him, yes, I see it, you look at him in the way a starved lion looks at his flighty prey. I haven't seen a look so predatory on a man in some time. I would be lying if I said it wasn't the least bit disturbing." "Zhis is absolutely none of your concern." "Humor me." Medic closed his eyes in a desperate bid to gather patience, and still he could not stop his mouth from sneering and slipping out a "Fahr zur Hölle!" His eyes were shocked open by a violent, ringing shot from Spy's Ambassador. It shattered a window, whose many pieces grazed and cut the bewildered Medic. "Schweinhund, you will wake everyone!" Medic bared his teeth and brushed glass from his clothes, nicking his fingers and drawing blood. Spy reloaded the large gun. "Good, tres bon. Maybe they will enlighten me. That, or I could just tie you up. Frankly doctor, you are placing me in a very uncomfortable position. BLU is not a gang of uncultured fools. Actually... most of them are, but that will not stop those few who have a decent amount of grey matter in their skull from beginning to give me odd glances." Spy's voice was entirely calm, and yet it was this same calm that was so utterly menacing. "What did you say? They suspect you?" "Oui, and it is entirely your fault. They think I am disguising as Scout because your little bunny happened to not lay a hand on any of the remaining BLU today when he made the fools fire blindly. They say I sabotaged them and wouldn't believe me even when I showed them your fading corpse." All humor had left Spy's words. His dark eyes narrowed into thin slits, and his nostrils flared at the vulgar memory. "And they will quickly fabricate a reason why simply because the paranoid idiots have never had a Spy on BLU. This only became a problem after they noticed that you were not healing Scout." Spy crushed his spent cigarette beneath his black shoe. "Enough. You will tell me why you are making my job difficult, or you will explain to your entire team why you are betraying them." Medic swept his damp hair from his forehead with his trembling palm. He could argue. There was plenty to argue about. But truthfully, he was tired. He was tired, and this man would not let him rest. Medic's breathing became shallow. "He cannot stay." "Who?" "Zhe Scout, dummkopf, he cannot stay here." "Why not?" "I cannot sa-" Another window shattered. The ringing from the second shot seemed to whine longer in Medic's ear than the first. His heart pounded and his fingers were much too cold, but the crass gunshots were not the cause. He was a hostage in his own base, but that bothered him even less. His fingers bled but still his attention was in the hallway to listen for foreign footsteps whose owner would potentially throw open the door and suddenly know everything. "You cannot tell anyone. Zhey will say you are mad." They would be here soon. They would know everything. Wouldn't it be easier to confide in this ghost than to colleagues - men he worked and lived with? The absurd ringing in his ears did not subside and it maddened him. "Zhey wouldn't believe you." It wouldn't be difficult, he thought, to ignore the color of this man's suit and balaclava for only a few moments. He was ignoring his own pathetically flustered speech, after all. "Believe what?" Spy waited patiently for the answer; he was aware from Medic's subtle gestures that an answer was coming. The hand holding the Ambassador rotated counterclockwise almost unnoticably. And then, clockwise. Medic followed the casual motions as if in a trance. The man staring into his shifting eyes waited until the doctor calmly broke out from his reverie. "Respawn is a beautiful thing, ja?" He could never stop now. Spy blinked at the terribly sudden shift in conversation. Medic didn't notice. He looked at Spy but he did not see him. His tone became markedly less harsh, but all the more frantic and almost lyrical. "Someone, somewhere, created zhis machine. A machine zhat can revive a human even if he is ground into the filthiest paste. Can you imagine, Spy, how many beautiful zhings can be done in the presence of such a machine?" His speech was not clipped anymore. "Anything. One simply needs... volunteers." Medic spoke faster. "After my team's mass suicide mission, zhe number of willing participants for my research dwindled to one. Soldier indulged me in my experiments for a time before he began to avoid me. Respawn isn't on except during battle even now, so any ill effect would linger for at least a day. It could have been a coughing fit, an odd lesion, a missing limb...nothing serious. He was too proud to complain, but I felt his wariness when we spoke, and I did not think it wise to ostracize my only teammate. So I...I stopped." Medic took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his hands slowly and deliberately, taking especial care to wipe each beautiful stain from his white hands. "I would experiment on myself." He shook his head wistfully. "I would record every detail and struggle to read my own notes when I came to zhe next day. It was pathetic, but being idle? It is a thousand times worse." "A regular addict," Spy muttered to himself. He lit his third cigarette and said aloud, "And then your employers graced you with two new teammates...?" "Ja," Medic whispered, "Zhey did, and Mein Gott..." "Oui...?" Spy allowed himself a moment to widen his eyes when Medic looked away. "I told zhem all that zhe medigun would not work outside of battle. I told zhem he needed extensive surgery. For a nonfatal gunshot wound, can you imagine?" "It was not fatal? How upsetting..." Spy tried several times to force a fourth cigarette between his lips before realizing the third was still there. "Zhe lies spilled from my mouth before I realized zhat I had spoken. Zhe mask was already covering my nose and mouth before I understood zhat I was in an operating room. I...satisfied my curiosities several hours before he woke. I invented some ludicrous excuse as to why I was operating, sedated him again, and left feeling..." He stopped speaking for a few moments and appeared visibly frustrated; his eyebrows shot down and his eyes searched the room. His face suddenly brightened. "...alive. I cannot find any word in any language zhat would describe zhe rapture nearly as well. I had not felt zhat even in zhe most gruesome and unpredictable battle. I could not eat or write or even fold my garments because I could not control my own trembling hands. I could not focus on a single zhing for hours, and I used zhe last of zhe Benzodiazepine because I knew zhat if I did not sleep zhat night, I would have returned to zhe infirmary to finish what I started." His voice had risen to a crescendo, and his accent fluctuated wildly as he drowned his confession between fear and fury and joy. His arms gestured wildly, but he did not feel that he was controlling them. His round glasses tipped precariously on the tip of his nose, but he was adamant that there was no time to adjust them; he had to keep going. "It is a wonder he is still alive. Bless zhat dispenser for erasing zhe evidence. I would have killed him." He repeated his last sentence to himself several times. It excited him in the first repetitions, but his mutterings soon faded into the violent draft in the room. "He cannot stay here. He will ruin me. Engineer suspects something already, and Soldier always suspects me. " He faltered for a moment. "I cannot hurt him again. Not like zhis," he whispered. Spy opened his mouth, but stopped himself as Medic's previously distracted eyes suddenly focused on his. "But you, Spy? You know too much." Medic leapt to the open bag on his bed, seized from it a finely serrated saw, and swung it at the man's neck. Spy shifted expertly, almost as if he were expecting it, but could not prevent a blow to his right shoulder. He tore the saw out and swung again, but by that time, Spy had cloaked. "And it is entirely your fault," Medic seethed, "I was content with ridding myself of the boy and stemming my urges. It could be done! But not now," Even through his gasping, hysteric speech, he heard the poorly suppressed groans. "Not when I have such a persistent live specimen at my feet." He kicked the air and his boot met flesh, and elicited a pained moan. Medic's breath hitched in his throat at the wonderful sound. A stark outline of the wounded Spy appeared and vanished. As the blue silhouette flickered out of sight, Medic's hysteria came to an abrupt end as a gruff voice erupted from the window from the grounds below: "WHEN I FINISH WITH YOU, WORM, YOU WILL HAVE CONSIDERABLE DIFFICULTY GLUING YOUR TINY SKULL BACK TOGETHER! QUIT RUNNING LIKE A DOG AND FACE ME LIKE A MA-" Medic's heavy boot swung back a second time but stopped in midair as a surge of unadulterated panic cleared the way for another, stronger one, and yet another after that. He gasped and stumbled backward until the back of his head hit the wall with a soft thump. He watched silently as a trickle of blood traveled from its pool in the center of the room and out through the window. He's gone. Medic would not be seen with the BLU Spy. He was safe. The doctor slid down until he was seated on the floor, and he laughed. He laughed until the sound bothered him, at which point he stopped. He sat there with his hands folded on his lap, and breathed the night air. His mind seemed to stop all thought, because at that moment, he was perfectly content to simply exist. But as all things end, so too did this brief moment of peace. The pool of blood in the center of the room did not dissipate as it does in battle, and the blood spattered on his body continued to plaster his soaked clothes to his skin. And yet, he wasn't troubled. Was he actually relieved that he had not managed to kill the BLU Spy? Then, he was reminded of Respawn's limitation and abandoned the thought altogether, he would know tomorrow how much better his aim was than Spy's. He rubbed his right shoulder. Fingers grazed a pulse in his neck. He heard the light patter of feet just beyond the door, and moments later, an incessant knocking that seemed to sharpen and echo at the same time. He knew who it was. Medic's hand tightened around the now red bonesaw. "Come in, mein Junge." *********************** "Ma'am?" "Yes." "The first report...it came today." "At last. Bring it here, Miss Pauling, close the door, and cancel all of my appointments." "Yes, but...this is all awful secretive. Only two people -" "Three, you poor girl, three people are involved in my operation. Me, you, and the gentleman who is our field agent." --- Scout burst through the door and slammed it shut behind him so forcefully that the walls shook. His skin glistened with sweat. His jaw hung open to accommodate his wild panting. His hands and legs trembled. Medic swallowed. A brief moment passed in which Scout's eyes jumped from broken window to blood pool to Medic, who was doing his absolute best to appear as though he was not particularly interested in splitting open a body tonight. Scout shut his eyes and opened his mouth and pleaded with the doctor in a voice that struggled so desperately to be calm and coherent, but was very close to hysteric mumbling. "Listen, doc. I don't wanna know. I don't wanna know why you're just sittin' there on the...on the floor, or why you fucked up your window, or why there's a puddle of, what is that? Oh crap i-it's fucking blood, man, but I-I don't wanna know, just please, please don't tell Sergeant Crazy I'm here, please." Not one to ever wait for a reply, Scout dived underneath the doctor's bed, which was across the room, and from Medic himself, and folded his limbs to appear as small as possible. Medic didn't flinch when the bellowing became louder. Scout's chest heaved abnormally. What was it that Spy had called him? A bunny. Medic watched the small chest heave and simply could not stop the broad smile on his lips. He had caught a hare once in his youth, out in Stuttgart, on a brief break from his studies. It was a small, quick thing, and had the softest tan fur. He had observed it closely for a number of days until there was nothing of interest left to observe. He remembered his reluctance at letting the thing go. So he didn't. His only regret from the whole ordeal was learning so much from it at the expense of staining that beautiful coat with its own blood. Despite the experience, he did not care much for trapping after that. And yet here he was, ensnaring one again. Scout's eyes followed the dark, leather boots as they clicked across the old, wooden floorboards of the room. Medic knew they were watching him. His steps were stiff and mechanical. His weary body screamed for him to stop, but his mind shot down every aching plea. He had to lock the door. Then, block the open window. After that? He had improvised before, and he was damn well capable of doing it again. His fingers grasped the small metal knob. He turned it slowly. He inhaled slowly. Medic paid for his theatrics, however, when Soldier smashed the lock to pieces as he threw open the door. Thrust backward, the doctor threw up his bonesaw defensively. Soldier marched forward, swatted the bonesaw out of his way, and jabbed Medic in the back. "Have you forgotten how to stand at attention, officer?!" He assaulted Medic's back with his fist until the doctor straightened his body with an exasperated groan. "And what the hell is this mess? I agree that sleeping in the blood of the enemy is quite the poetic act, but if I get even a whiff of the stench from outside this door, you will be scrubbing until your hands fall off, Fritz. Now -" Soldier cleared his throat and paced in front of the doctor, pausing his speech for emphasis. But what a pause it was - in the silence that was always magnified after any and all of Soldier's speeches, Medic was treated to the beautiful sounds that were previously obscured by the man's boorish commands. The blood pool stirred as the Soldier paced into it ignorantly; its soft splashes and plops were made all the more enticing by the Scout's ill hidden, ragged breathing and soft, nervous clawing at the floorboards. Soldier didn't hear it, of course. He couldn't. No, these sounds were for Medic's ears only. These were all familiar perceptions, but he had not heard or seen them in such a maddeningly long time that every insignificant plop and scrape and sigh thundered in his mind. Medic lifted his eyes from the bed just as Soldier jerked his head in his direction. Soldier's eyes narrowed. "I'll be honest with you, doc. I had my doubts about sending the boy home. He is an American, after all, and Americans are born fighting! Why, if I had a son, he would be joining the ranks as soon as he is able to say 'YES, SIR', 'NO, SIR' and 'PERMISSION TO REDUCE THE ENEMY INTO A MOUNTAIN OF MAGGOT BLOOD AND TEARS, SIR!'" Soldier pounded his fist into the air as he spoke, and seemed to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment. As he casually strode over to the bed, Medic's initial panic lessened when he saw the man sit and take no notice of the wide eyed, hyperventilating youth below him. "Zhat is all very interesting, Soldier, but surely we can discuss zhis in zhe m-" "Doctor, I have decided that I will give the runt another chance to prove himself. If he follows my orders in tomorrow's battle, I will reconsider the letter. It's a shame to lose a comrade after weeks of isolation, Medic." "How low our standards have fallen is a greater shame," said Medic. His eyes widened at Soldier's proposition, and he could not stop the disgusting mixture of anxiety and confusion flooding his system. Did he, or did he not want the boy to stay? As Soldier continued his lecture, Medic's fevered psyche briefly created the perfect universe - one in which he could slide his scalpel through warm, firm skin whenever the desire struck him, and would never be discovered and shamed. He would lie to everyone forever, but never again to himself. And just as the thought seized his mind, it let go. It could never be realized. This was employment he needed, and he was a man that his colleagues would suffer without. Medic grinned bitterly at the last thought. RED needed him. The thought would have been empowering had it not meant that the doctor would have to starve his greatest passion for the rest of his life. "-I DON'T FIND THIS TEAM'S LACK OF COORDINATION TO BE AMUSING, DOCTOR." "Bitte, do not scream." Medic stepped away from the man and clutched his ear with the hand still holding his still wet bonesaw. Blood trickled past his fingers and down his neck. "I do not believe my ears," Soldier chided, and stood from the bed. Scout gasped softly as his back was finally relieved from the pressing mattress. "Is this the same man I spent weeks in isolation with? The man who disemboweled every member of BLU to avenge our fallen brothers? And do you think I've forgotten how high that BLU maggot head flew when that dull thing you're holding went straight through his scrawny neck the day you found out who rigged the bomb? THIS is the man going soft on me now? I didn't take a man of your character for a prissy coward, doc." Medic knew the tired old speech was coming the moment the man opened his mouth. He wasn't uplifted by the recital of his past achievements, however. No, his mood was considerably lifted when he dropped his eyes, as if in shame, to catch that precious look of shock on Scout's small face when he undoubtedly imagined the gruesome details of Medic's exploits. "Nein, Soldier," Medic said softly. "I simply cannot do all zhe zhings you mentioned while enduring a raging headache brought on by a raging Soldier. We... we will discuss tomorrow, but for n-now, for-" Medic furrowed his brow at a sudden realization. He turned sharply to face Soldier and spoke slowly. "How...how can you forgive zhe boy so easily? You haven't parted with zhat shovel for eleven-" "Twelve." "-twelve years, and now you are considering letting him stay? How-" "My shovel is accounted for and I succeeded in sending Scout a parting gift with my fist, but that is hardly the point, doc. Point is, everyone is required to sacrifice in the name of war. Team unity conquers individual pride, tonight and every damned day after. But I don't have to tell you that much, doctor." Soldier saluted his Medic. "You've done more than your share for the team. Not as much as I have, but pretty damn close. We'll make damn sure the rookies don't pull the same stunt a second time," Soldier added, dropping his voice out of respect, or emphasis, or for whatever other reason. "Now quit asking questions and retire for the night because I will drag your sorry ass out of bed in the morning if you even DREAM about thinking of sleeping in. Good night, officer." By the time Medic struggled and failed to remember the last time Soldier had ever wished him a good night, he had left the room. As the doctor repeated the man's last words through his mind, a small voice interrupted the onset of more undesirable emotions. "Uh... l-little help?" Medic came to his bed and lifted one end with a grunt as Scout squeezed himself out. He stood shakily. "Thanks for...uh.... well, you know." Scout straightened his back and folded his arms across his chest. Medic was immediately aware of a white noise in his ears as he realized that he and Scout were alone again. 'Just send him away. Get rid of him while you are thinking clearly. Shove him ou-' "Hey doc, I don't wanna bother or anything but... can you...can you tell me if I'm gonna survive the night at least, cause this shit's startin' to hurt," he said, and lifted his shirt. It was then that Medic realized that he had not folded his arms out of cockiness, but out of a need to hug his wound. Indeed, a dark splash of purple and blue stretched across his damp skin. This almost hid what the dispenser could not - hints of the Medic's first incisions. 'You are not thinking clearly. This is your last chance. Get away now.' Medic placed his shaking palm on the boy's chest and felt the tender flesh. Scout inhaled sharply and bit his lip at the touch. The doctor felt the rhythmic contraction of the lean muscles on his cold, bare hands as they passed over the abdomen, the chest, and back down to trace the bruise. "So, is it alright? Do ya gotta operate or someth-" Medic couldn't hear the rest after the word 'OPERATE' shut down all reason. --- Two weeks of isolation. Losses came to be expected. It was simply too much to ask of two men to kill a coordinated team of eight day after day. The higher powers revealed nothing but the daily briefing. Defend this crater. Clear that abandoned complex. Protect those warehouses. RED's only surviving Soldier needed little else. Neither did the remaining Medic, after his ninth letter to their employer received no answer. He assumed that new recruits would be hired either way. Both mercenaries were well aware of what happened to the losing team in any battle fought between RED and BLU. Their issued weapons and equipment would smolder and burn until they dropped to the ground, useless, whether or not they had to pass through their wielder's flesh to do so. The victor's weapons, in turn, would crackle and emit an unnatural glow, and become several times more destructive in order to force the defeated team out of the newly claimed area. Medic and Soldier died for two weeks. Their only meager consolation was the swiftness of their deaths. ********************* Maybe the doctor was asked a question, or perhaps it was a wayward glance that had finally shut the boy up. Medic leaned forward to speak directly into Scout's ear. The silent room carried his low, throaty words in a way that forced minute bumps to rise on Scout's flesh, and a sudden jolt of his chest at a sharp inhale. Not one striking detail escaped Medic's obsessive observation. "Operate? Nein," he said, continually lowering his voice to suppress the frightening but absolutely intoxicating anticipation in his mind and swelling chest. He was suddenly well aware that Scout was about to recoil, and in what direction he would shrink away to, and that his hand was already gripping the boy's shoulder just a little too firmly to prevent him from doing something he may not have even considered doing yet. "No need for zhat," he said, and with a soft laugh, continued: "Not surgery, anyway, but if you are not against autopsy..." Scout swallowed thickly and decided that he had enough. He dug his nails into the hand on his shoulder, shoved it away, and threw himself at the door. Medic lunged after him, grasped an ankle, and turned it in midair until the boy had to fall to the floor and twist his body to prevent the surprisingly strong hands from mangling his leg. Scout landed on his front and howled as his bruised torso slammed first against the hard floor, and all the while, Medic couldn't stop wondering just how fast the little heart must be beating against his chest. This had to end quickly. ****************** Five weeks of isolation. Battles became a farce. BLU Demomen bombed drunk. BLU Medics would takes turns partnering up and ubercharging themselves. The BLU Soldier was the only one to abstain from total mockery, but even he wasn't ignorant of his enemy's helplessness, and was found juggling ammunition to stave off boredom. RED would strike significant blows more than a few times, but a complete victory was always just out of their grasp - a single sticky, stray rocket or even needle was often enough to put an end to a happy day. Not a single day passed in which the RED Medic did not curse his contract. ******************* The shocking pain at landing on the bruise retarded his movement for only a second at best, but the doctor didn't even need that opportunity. Medic deftly pinned his knee into Scout's back and only briefly struggled to restrain the thrashing arms as the boy howled and swore and cried at the man whose movements were nothing but methodical and calm, and growing more so no matter how Scout resisted; it did not change when insults became bargains or pleas and back again in an incoherent repetition. No, this couldn't end quickly. This had nothing to do with science. This had even less to do with medicine. Medic would deny it a thousand times to a thousand people and a million more times to himself but at that moment, he was drinking in the Schadenfreude and could care more about the shine of his boots than as to who was providing the feast. Medic watched his trapped victim. He toyed with him. ********************** Humiliation. The fitting name was given to the period between a round end and an official day's ceasefire. It could last seconds or stretch for hours. After eleven weeks of isolation, little else changed. BLU's passive taunting was a pleasant thought in the face of the after battle pursuits. Although it was common for RED to exit in pieces, the nature of their continued deaths could not have been more different. The RED Soldier held two grenades close to his heart. They were the only force marginally stronger than his bare fists that did not refuse his handling after the rest of his issued weapons betrayed him. Although he considered each and every defeat a monumental disgrace, it warmed his heart to reflect on the days he succeeded in hunting down a BLU maggot during Humiliation and demonstrate for him the meaning of the word. The RED Soldier holds two grenades close to his heart. He waits for the day when one would not be enough. ********************** Scout gave a surprisingly forceful shove that pushed Medic off of him, and aimed his bandaged fist for the man's skull. Medic moved his head and caught the tight fist before it connected, twisted it behind Scout's back until he squirmed and made a strange sound - some horrible cross between a growl and a sob - and swung his other hand to cup the boy's head. Before Scout could wriggle himself free again, his captor connected h