*shuffles papers awkwardly, peeking around corner* H-hello everyone...I'm still here, and still alive. Only problem...I got a job. I know I always preach about pre writing as well, but I just couldn't leave you guys hanging anymore, and I only have about four chapter written. Don't expect updates to come as quickly as they did with TMTNY, but I love you all and I hope you all are still here even after my hiatus. Please, enjoy my silly story. 3

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The post traumatic shock of living in Florida never goes away, yet part of me is forever attatched to that eccentric, heat-infested swamp." – Jennifer Harrison

"This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and put one word after another until it's done. It's that easy and that hard." –Neil Gaiman

The Mercs Take Florida

Prologue: Everybody hates Mondays.

He really hated Mondays.

Really, really hated Mondays.

Medic swore in German, Russian, French, English, and any other language he could recall as Heavy went down like a sack of bricks.

More like a sack of cinder blocks.

Or steel beams.

What was Spy doing? He was supposed to be taking care of the BLU Sniper, who was on a high today, downing their team left and right. Stupid Frenchman probably stepped out back to have a smoke. Medic stomped off to the respawn room, ignoring the BLU Demoman who was shouting slurred insults across the field at them.

"ZHERE you are!" Medic snarled as he saw Spy in the corner, clutching a bucket in one hand, the other hand over his stomach. The doctor shoved his anger away immediately when he saw Spy in this state. He was hardly ever sick on his stomach. "Are you allright?" Medic demanded impatiently, glancing back every so often to see if Heavy had respawned yet.

"Yes, I am doing just peachy, Docteur," Spy rasped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Well, he felt 'peachy' enough to be an ass, apparently. Spy stood and straightened out his suit, stumbling momentarily from dizziness.

"Is it ze Pyro?" Medic asked, trying to hide a smile. Amusement must have crept into his voice, however, because Spy shot him a murderous glare.

"Yes, it's ze Pyro. I swear, whatever drugs they're giving 'im 'ave 'im seeing me, even when I'm cloaked. It's ridiculous." Spy snorted and checked his gun to make sure he had ammo.

"Vell, try and vork on getting ze Sniper. He's getting a bit too cocky for his own good," Medic replied with a sniff and Spy nodded curtly, cloaking with a wisp of smoke before he stepped out of the respawn room.

Medic had two options. He could wait for Heavy to respawn, which could take anywhere from twenty seconds to twenty minutes…or he could go fighting tooth and claw with the rest of his team, healing with one hand and removing heads from necks with the other.

Meh.

That's how Medic had been feeling lately: Meh. Everything had fallen into a dull monotony. Oh, we won? Great. Oh, we lost? Boo. Oh, I just ripped the BLU Medic's arm out of its socket with sheer strength? Cool. He wasn't sure what it was…maybe he was just getting old. Of course, that was always his immediate response to any new emotion he felt. Sighing, he waited around for a few more seconds to see if Heavy would appear before he charged out of the respawn room.

He liked being in this war, more than the average person would like to be risking their lives in a hail of gunfire. But…they weren't risking their lives. Medic had never been a very introspective person…but seriously, what was the point anymore? He had become so numb to little things that would make anyone else faint / vomit on the spot.

"Medic!" he heard to his left and he instantly halted, turning almost automatically towards the sound. It hadn't been terribly urgent but there was nothing else to do, so might as well see what the trouble was.

It was Engineer, leaning heavily against the wall, cradling his organic hand in his gloved one. Medic jogged once he saw who it was; Dell was a good friend. Smart, compassionate, more of a 'tender love' kind of person when the team stopped reacting to Medic's tough love. Sometimes he could be annoying, what with all his 'southern charm', but Medic genuinely enjoyed being around him. And he felt concern when he saw his obviously broken wrist…something that respawn could heal improperly if he didn't help him first. He was already missing one hand; he wouldn't appreciate Medic having to re-break the bone or worse…amputate.

"Engineer! Sit here, vhat happened?" Engineer gratefully slumped to the floor, grunting in pain as his arm was jostled. Medic thought it strange that he was all the way out here, not tending to his machines…and how had he even broken his arm in the first place? Perhaps he'd just wandered out here looking for the doctor.

"S-so glad you're here, doc…I do b'lieve ah've gone and-" he broke of here to grit his teeth in agony. "…gone and messed up my other arm." He gave a weak laugh but Medic didn't offer any laughter in return.

He still felt that twinge of uncertainty.

"Vell, let's see vhat ve can do. Tell me, how did zhis happen?" Medic took his heavy, thickly muscled forearm in his hands and rotated it around, earning a hiss of pain from the Engineer.

"Shoot, where do I start? It was just me and th'BLU Soldier. He came at me like a vulture to a gut wagon and knocked me down, then one of my toolboxes fell and crushed my wrist. Demo took care of the Soldier, and I wandered out all over hell and yonder lookin' for ya." He gave a weak smile.

"You say your toolbox crushed your wrist?" Medic said nonchalantly, running his expert fingers over the break again.

"Crushed it. A sixty plus pound metal container doesn't take too kindly to skin an' bones," he winced again as Medic touched it.

"Zhis is a closed fracture. A clean break. Nozhing vas crushed." Medic said simply.

"Smart man," Engineer replied in a voice that certainly wasn't his slow, easy drawl. Before he could stand, Medic had his hands around his throat, digging his thumbs into his vulnerable Adam's apple.

The Spy choked for a moment as his disguise was ruined and Medic still clung on, feeling his blood pumping.

This was just the thing he needed to break up the monotony.

The Spy feigned that he was losing his life, and in Medic's excitement he fell for the age old trick and began tightening his grip, eager to drain the light from his eyes faster. Then the Spy grinned and brought up both his hands, clapping them over Medic's ears.

Silence.

Medic felt his vision lurch and a horrible, horrible ringing filling his ears. Involuntary tears sprang into his eyes at the pain and he immediately knew he'd lost this battle. He couldn't hear, and he felt like vomiting from the vertigo. Still, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on the Spy who was watching this scene with a self-satisfied smile curled into his cheeks, somehow having the sheer audacity to be lighting a cigarette at this point in time.

With a roar, Medic charged at him.

The Spy always underestimated Medic's speed.

The skinny Frenchman felt his teeth clack together and every bone in his body jar as he was sent to the ground, the crushing weight on the doctor on top of him.

"I vant to vatch you bleed into ze dust," Medic growled with a smile and produced his bone saw from the belt around his lab coat, teasing it just above the BLU Spy's throat. "Or maybe I should perform a bit of…emergency field surgery. Maybe I'll give you your own femur to bite down on for ze pain," Medic felt his heart beat quicken even more, his vision beginning to haze over with red. A small part of him was still quietly warning him not to get like this…but he was far too gone. "I'm going to enjoy zhis," he said, breaking into high pitched giggles as he raised the bone saw, every muscle in his body tight, ready to strike.

There was a blow to the side of his head and a crunch he felt echo through his entire body.

He was dead from a broken neck before he could even register it was the BLU Scout who had killed him with a swing from his bat, and was now shouting creative insults at his dead body, cleaning the blood off his bat with his lab coat before the body disappeared.

Geez.

He could really use a vacation.

Next time on The Mercs Take Florida:

"Vacation. That is terrible idea. Do you not remember last 'vacation' we had?" he shook his head, slightly grimacing at the memories.