50 years.
It had been 50 years and now he is finally here. His new home for the next ten years.
He had worked hard to get this step further in his life. But he hadn't expected that. An anonymous letter had been sent to him a month ago by a messenger whose contents asked him to come to America. The exact reason was not mentioned but his medical knowledge was mentioned, that is needed elsewhere.
Hans raises his head and looks at the outside facade of the dice-like building, which was only called "the base". Three stories high, a gray-white concrete wall, embroidered with rectangular, bare windows that are fogged white by the cold winter wind, allowing nobody to look inside.
The entrance is decorated with a canopy in the form of a hemisphere and a double door made of bare metal below leads into the interior.
This place was the stated destination in the letter. Hans had not thought long and had followed the call. Why? Because it sounded mysterious, exciting. And it was the chance to broaden his horizons, whatever awaited him.
He has been working as a doctor since the age of 20, and ten years later he has become a surgeon. He loves his work. He wants to help people, but also he is not averse to the money.
He is the best in his field. He has awards and commendations, earned more in a year than a conventional doctor. People come from all over the world to get operated by him. Not only in Germany is his name on everyone's lips. But as with all prominent people, he is rumored about negative things. That he was crazy. He even got the nickname "Dr. Frankenstein ". It has even been claimed that he kidnaps people and picks up homeless dogs and cats off the street to perform cruel experiments on them. Did the person who sent him the letter know that, too?
Another piece of information was that he would work with others here in this lonely place. People who are probably just as the best in their field as he is in his. The only question is in what they are the best. If you need a doctor like Hans here, it will probably be something not entirely harmless.
He doesn't know any more. But his future colleagues will surely enrich him with some information.
The cold wind is getting stronger and Hans is tightening his coat. His fedora threatens to fly from his head and places his gloved left hand on the crown of the hat. His glasses are steamy and takes him a little bit of sight.
Archimedes, his domestic dove, begins to coo in his covered cage. It's finally time to get out of the freezing cold.
Keeping his left hand still holding the felt hat, Hans cleverly guides the little finger of his right hand through the ring of the cage hanger and with the rest of his fingers reaches for the handle of his old leather suitcase. He bought it back then, 25 years ago, because he thought he might eventually want to travel. But that never happened. He was too absorbed in his work, even rarely taking vacations. His work was relaxation enough for him and there was always something to do. Therefore, the suitcase for 45 marks remained for years on the wardrobe, unused. Therefore, the thing looks like new. Maybe a bit old-fashioned, but new. All the more proud was Hans that he now had the opportunity to finally use it.
Wearing itself is not a big deal. A little info in the letter told him that he did not need to bring any tools and instruments, because he would get everything he needed for his job here. That's why he packed only a few of his clothes.
At that moment he wonders if he misses all his stuff in Germany and his country in itself, his little hometown. After all, he was never away from there. He always had everything with him. At any time of the day and now it is so far away. What does he actually expect behind these doors, in this deserted part of America, which could not offer rudimentarily a home for any living thing.
Is he getting cold feet now? Yes he does. But this is mainly due to the icy wind, which he has been exposed to too long and now makes the first steps on the building in front of him.
Under the canopy, it is a little wind-protected. Hans takes the risk, lets go of his fedora and changes Archimedes' round cage into his left hand, puts down the suitcase next to him, takes the glasses from his nose and breathes the glasses. The warm breath expels the weak ice immediately and the view becomes clearer again. Then he looks at the intercom, which lies protected behind a sealable glass cover. In the middle of the intercom, a camera lens stares at him.
He opens the lid and presses the red button. After a short moment, it starts to crack quietly in the speaker and a low humming noise is hear in the background. Then a male, very calm voice speaks to him.
"Who is there?"
"Good day. My name is Hans Ludwig Freud. I am the new doctor."
"Password?"
Hans is prepared for that. The password was also included in the mysterious letter. He had to remember the password, because he was required to destroy the letter after reading the it.
"Gravel War."
He has no idea if this password means has a deeper meaning, if it has any meaning at all, but if it includes the word war, that cannot mean anything good. It's not like Hans has no idea about war. The Second World War is just 34 years ago, in which he himself had to perform the military medical service. Fortunately, he was not sent abroad. He probably would not have survived, although the war rules state that neither paramedics nor wounded may be shot. Strange that there are rules in war too. After all, this is a murderous sport in which people kill each other - all in vain.
It crackles again in the speaker and the buzzing stops. Then the metal double door opens. Golden ceiling light escapes into the dim darkness and a tall, broadly built man stands in front of him, behind him a meter long, bare, almost too narrow passage with ceiling lights from the 30s.
Almost three heads taller is the stranger in front of him, with a bald head and a beard shadow, which fits him well. He may be 40 years old. The iris of his eyes is bright and ice blue. Had he not that warm-hearted look, the pure winter cold would escape from his eyes.
He doesn't look like an American, but what does that matter? Hans isn't an America either. If there are several people of different origin, it makes the whole thing even more interesting.
As the man begins to speak, it's immediately clear that Hans had not talked to him about the intercom. His voice is dark here. Pleasantly deep.
"Welcome, Doctor!"
Suddenly the man pulls Hans into a tight bear hug. Hans is frozen. He had absolutely not expected and he is not used to such a thing, but he allows it. He had not been wrong. This giant is a very warm-hearted and peace-loving person. He is very sympathetic to Hans and he is sure that they will both be close friends.
This idea lets the German hesitate for a moment. He and friends? He was always alone. At least it was this kind of loneliness. He was always surrounded by people because he was a respected member of society. Patients loved him, he was invited to major parties, and one or two women kept an eye on him. He claims that he is not overly attractive, so it's questionable if all these people really liked him as a human, or if it was perhaps because of his money and reputation. But that did not mean anything to him anyway. The work is his lover, the only thing he needs for company (apart from Archimedes, of course.).
But here, in this place, he'll probably have to change that. He no longer works on his own.
I hope I get used to it quickly.
The man finally lets go of him and gives Hans a broad, almost childlike smile.
"My name is Heavy."
Only now does he hear out the strong accent. A Russian. Despite the military service, he had never come in contact with Russians. And he hopes that he didn't have any bad experiences with Germans either. But there is something else that gets Hans's attention.
"Heavy?" What's that name? Is that a nickname the others gave him because he's wide as a closet?
"Da. Heavy Weapons Guy. I'm responsible for the heavy weapons."
Weapons. After all...
Hans looks at Heavy for a moment and he looks at him with an expectant look.
"Oh! Excuse me. I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is-"
"Medic."
"Uh..." Hans is confused.
"You are our new Medic. We do not call our real names here."
"... does that mean that everyone is named after their job?"
"Da. Is easier."
Medic? My name is Medic? I haven't been a Medic for a long time, but a brilliant surgeon. Hah ... As if I would start my education over again.
"Let's go in, doctor. It's cold here. And the others also want to meet you."
Without asking Hans, Heavy takes his suitcase.
"You don't have to carry my suitcase. I'm not that old yet" laughs Hans, but Heavy waves with his hand.
"You had a long journey. You have to rest. We are helping here each other. Not only because we are a team but also a family."
"I see." Archimedes begins to coo again.
"What was noise?" The Russian asks, looking at the covered cage in Hans's left hand.
They both enter the building and the double doors behind them close independently and almost silently.
"That's Archimedes. My dove."
"A dove?"
"Yes, but not any. He is my domestic dove. My friend. He is snow white. And of course house-trained. So don't worry."
"Can he also do tricks?"
"Of course. When I call or whistle, he comes to me. He can do a cartwheel, play dead and even fetch."
"So he is a very smart dove."
"He is. Many doctors keep birds because they are inspiring and relaxing. They also have a beautiful sing-song voice. Well, not Archimedes, but I love his cooing anyway. He talks to me in this way."
"Talking?"
"Yes. He's very talkative, talking about this and that. I'm sure in his next life he'll definitely become a sparrow."
Heavy starts to laugh very loudly. His voice echoes throughout the passage, making this lonely-looking place seem livelier.
Hans cannot help but smile. This sympathy, which the Russian radiates, would certainly elicit a smile from the most fiercest grinch. Likewise for his slightly clumsy English you just have to like this guy. There are people who have certain talents and idiosyncrasies that are essential to this world. Especially in a place like this.
They come to a crossroad. Heavy leads Hans to the left.
"Where do these paths lead?"
"Straight ahead it goes to the bedrooms and to the stairs and the right way leads to the garage and the training ground."
"I cannot wait to see my workspace."
"The infirmary is on the second floor."
"An infirmary? I have my very own infirmary?"
"Da. Lots of space to work for doctor and for dove to fly. Old Medic had no animals. Was always in a bad mood, but was good doctor."
"Where is he? Did he quit?"
"Was killed."
That makes Hans a little speechless, but he does not show it. Somehow he had already felt that this was going in a certain direction. Actually, he don't want war. Not again. And yet he is here.
"Is Heavy's fault that Doctor is dead."
"Why are you saying that?"
"I didn't protect him. Not good enough. Heavy was so focused on destroying that Sentry that he didn't notice Spy sneaking up from behind."
Spy? Sentry?
"He killed him with a stab in the back. He died immediately. Heavy was his next target but Soldier came to the rescue and killed Spy before he could kill me."
Soldier…
"I'm sorry. But you don't have to blame yourself. Something like this happens during the war. You're just a human."
"Heavy will not make same mistake with new Medic."
"You really don't need to worry about me. I can look after myself. Besides, it's not allowed to shoot at Medics."
"This rule does not exist here."
Right. Of course, this rule does not exist here. Otherwise his predecessor would not have been killed and he wouldn't have to take his place now.
"Heavy will always keep an eye on the doctor, so that does not happen again."
After a brief silence, Hans gives the friendly Russian a grateful smile, at the same worried thoughts tormenting him.
A doorless opening at the end of the corridor comes into view. They are only a few meters away. Hans can recognize a table that has its place on a thick carpet.
"Doctor is not American, right?" Heavy asks suddenly.
"Hm? Oh, no, no. I'm from Germany."
Hans doesn't look at Heavy as he answers, but he notices this movement in the corner of his eye, causing him to look up at the Russian. He has stopped and Hans does it, too. They both look at each other. This look...
Right. The conflict between Germans and Russians during World War II. Before they spoke so intimately with each other, Hans had had to think about it. But after that, he has forget about it. Even that Heavy is a Russian. When you talk to him, you forget things like wars and nationalities. Heavy is just such a special person, an essential personality. But apparently he'd had bad experiences with Germans.
Heavy's gaze says it all, even if he tries not to let it out too much. Maybe he is fighting inside not to hate him, because he knows that not every German was a Nazi. Maybe he's trying to see the good in Hans, to accept him. After all, he is with them now, and Heavy said that they are here like a family. And you don't hate family members. And Hans suddenly realizes that the Russian in front of him, so threatening and cold he may look by his outward appearance, is an absolute family man. Someone who can handle everybody. And that gives Hans the hope that this ability gives Heavy the strength to overcome his bad experience with Germans. That must happen. Because they will have to live together for quite a while.
His mouth opens and closes immediately afterwards. His eyebrows are furiously contracted for a moment. And then he averts his gaze and continues on his way. Hans doesn't follow him immediately, looks after the Russian.
He sighs. Such things take time. But he has to admit that he is now a bit afraid of the others' reaction. What if they react the same way as Heavy? If only he alone had a problem with him, the German could handle it. But if he is hated by the whole team, he will not have a future here. He is not even sure if he really wants that. He has not signed a contract yet. He could go anytime. But then his life will go on as it did before. He will not make any progress, even if he is still not sure what progress he's searching for. He simply feels that something is missing in his life.
Now Hans follows him. With a bad feeling, he enters the brightly lit room. He puts the cage on the floor and takes off his fedora. He is not sure how many team members he expected, but he is surprised by the number. Together with Heavy, there are eight men, as he can guess in a fraction of a second.
"SALUTE!" Shouts one of the men near Hans, who had apparently stood motionless in the room all the time. On his head sits a (too) large helmet that covers his eyes. His chest sticks out and his right arm is raised to a military salute while his left arm is pressed tightly against his stiff body.
Hans doesn't have to guess. This is clearly the so-called Soldier. He is very powerful-voiced. The surgeon jumped inwardly as he let his voice ring.
For a moment he thinks the whole team is trimmed like this but each one of them is very individual.
A young boy is sitting in the room on an old, apparently often used couch, in front of him a running TV (so 7 men and a boy). Hans is surprised to find half a child. But a young age doesn't really mean anything. It depends on the skills.
The boy looks over at Hans for a moment, just to return his attention on the TV again. With a chewing mouth, probably a bubble gum, he raises his arm in greeting and then ignores Hans for the rest.
"At least you could introduce yourself, Scout" A man is blaming him who wears a suit, with a cigarette in his mouth, and a French accent and a charisma, that tells you that he sets great value upon etiquette and civility. Hans remembers. He had spoken with that voice over the intercom outside, but he hadn't noticed his accent.
"Now the old man knows my name."
With a shake of his head, the man approaches Hans and gives him his hand in greeting. He is half a head shorter than he is. His hair is black, but the gray is already coming out on the side. He is probably the same age as he is. The narrow hands are dressed in leather gloves.
"Welcome, Docteur. It's an 'onor for me to meet you. I am Spy."
So this is the Spy…
The German returns the greeting. "I'm pleased to meet you too."
A taller man also approaches Hans and shakes his hand. A black man with an eye patch over his left eye. If there is still an eye behind it. Also with an accent that Hans cannot interpret, the man greets him with a friendly smile.
"My name is Demoman. But everybody just calls me Demo."
"I am very pleased. My name is-"
"We don't call our real names 'ere" explains the man in the suit.
"Oh...uh...yes. Heavy had already pointed that out. I'm sorry."
"Doesn't matter. Ya have to get used to it first. It's not always easy." This voice, once again accented, comes from a man who had been leaning against a wall while his hat, which looks like an Australian adventure hat, was drawn low in the face. He wears tight pants, which emphasizes his slim figure. In the waistband sits a large machete. On the left cheek emblazoned a long scar. "G'day, Mate. I'm Sniper."
"Oh hello. You can always use a sniper."
"I like ya. Ya have a clue what's good. Not like a certain one here."
"Sneak back to your wall and make yourself invisible like a chameleon."
Sniper laughs softly at the Frenchman's words.
"We both know you're the only one who knows anything about invisibility, isn't it, Spook?"
Sniper pronounces the word "invisibility" with a certain equivocation. What is that all about?
Now a smaller man approaches Hans. Dressed in a yellow safety helmet that sits upside down on his head and goggles over his eyes. He has a very distinctive chin and Hans suspects a bald head under the helmet. Looks like a technician and looks a bit like a smaller version of Heavy.
With a smile, this member gives Hans also his hand.
"Welcome to the team, Pardner." Definitely a Texan. "Here's to a successful cooperation! I am the Engineer here. If ya want something to be fixed, come to me."
"Thank you very much."
"Ya already met Heavy. Only one is missing. Pyro, come here, Buddy." Engineer beckons someone over.
Hans' eyes wander over to Heavy, who is in the back of the room. With one arm he is leaning against a door of a small fridge while he eats something (looks like a sandwich). When he notices Medic's gaze, he turns his head away.
"…"
Suddenly he stares into the face of a black mask with two large, circular eyes, behind which there is black emptiness.
Hans gets a shock. Such similar masks have worn German soldiers during wartime. Maybe they looked a bit different, but the meaning behind it is the same.
"Why…?" He wanted to ask why he wears this mask, but then the German notices that he is also dressed in an asbestos suit. The complete man in front of him is wrapped in fire-proof clothing. The hands are also in thick, rubbery gloves.
He is a head shorter than he and doesn't seem to speak much. He just stands in front of him and looks at him. Well, maybe staring is the more appropriate word, even if Hans can only guess his look behind the mask.
"He always wears this suit and mask. We never saw him without these clothes. Not even the day we met three years ago" explains Spy, who had taken a few steps back. His body language reveals that he is not completely at ease with him. Hans can sympathize with that. This man gives you an unsteady feeling, though he cannot quite explain what kind of one.
On the shoulder emblazoned the emblem of a flame. A fire specialist, then.
"'is name is Pyro."
"Or her name. We don't know if Pyro is a man or a woman" explains Engineer.
"It's definitely a guy" the young boy named Scout throws into the room. "If that were not the case, tits would stand out under the suit."
"Pull yourself together, Scout! At least on the first day of our new doctor!" Spy scolds.
"Didn't my predecessor examine him or her?"
"Pyro doesn't let himself examined. We are not even sure if he lives with us in the same world."
Hans becomes keen-eared. "What do you mean?"
"Well, we suspect that guy is a bit batty in the brain" answers Demoman.
"Stark staring mad."
"Scout!"
"He likes to set things on fire and does other things that are rather untypical for an adult or rather for a mentally healthy person."
"I see. Maybe I'll get him or her to open up to me."
"Hudda!"
Again, Hans gets a shock. Pyro tries to say something, but his voice just slips fuzzy through the filter on his mouth.
"Don't worry, mate. I think Pyro just said hello" Sniper reassures.
Engineer grabs Pyro on the shoulder. "Come on, Buddy. Don't ya want to keep blowing bubbles in the air?"
Enthusiastic claps the pyromaniac in the hands and hugs the smaller man stormy. They leave the room through a second door
"Pyro seems to get along well with Engineer" notes the surgeon.
"Oh yeah. Pyro is dotty about Engie. He must always be kept in the eye and Engie likes to assume this task."
"We are soldiers in a war and not babysitters in kindergarten!"
Hans turns around to the man with the big helmet, who is still in the welcome position.
"Stand comfortably, soldier." Hans wanted to sound humorous, but Soldier seems to be unfamiliar with humor. He breaks away from his rigid posture and approaches Hans almost threateningly.
"Listen, Cupcake. You may be the new Medic but let me tell you I'm not taking orders from a nurse, get it?"
"Show the doc his place and then it goes in the consultation room in 20 minutes! A late arrival will not be tolerated! And that's especially true for the newcomer." Soldier's mouth twitching as he gives this order, almost growling, and then in military stride he leaves the room through the door, through which Hans had come in.
He is not surprised by this type of treatment. He knows that from his own from military times. What surprised him is that a soldier makes such sounds and gives orders. Soldiers are the ones who receive orders and execute them without objection.
This place, these people here are indeed very special.
"Heavy, will ya show Medic the infirmary?"
The Russian looks up for a moment, opens his mouth but fails to answer.
"That's alright. He explained me already where it is."
"Then I accompany you, Docteur" offers Spy. "And I insist on accompanying you."
Hans has no problem with that. He just has to find his suitcase.
"'ere, Docteur" Spy brings out the old thing behind a corner and presents it to the German, who puts his fedora on his head to carry the suitcase with his free hand.
"Thank you. And thank you for bringing, Herr Heavy."
As expected, the Russian doesn't answer, doesn't even pay him a glance. But Hans doesn't feel that he does that because he hates or despises him, but because he may be ashamed of his reaction to him when he told him to be German.
Together Medic and Spy walk through the corridor. At the crossroad they turn left.
"I should probably apologize for Heavy" Spy says suddenly. "But you must not blame 'im for that. 'is family often 'ad to flee. Also from German soldiers. 'e is aware that not all Germans were Nazis, but it's not easy to winnow them instead of colour everyone with the same brush."
Hans opens his mouth in astonishment, but Spy preempts him.
"Don't worry. 'e didn't told that you are German."
"And how do you know that I'm from Germany?"
"Many things 'ave told me that. Your accent, your name... You are the famous surgeon from Rottenburg. The doctor who 'as done many a miracle."
Now Hans remembers when Spy said he was honored to meet him. He had heard that so many times in his life that he did not notice it at all.
"And what about you, Herr Spy?"
"Because I'm from France? Not all French people 'ate the Germans. I 'ad nothing to do with World War II. When I was 13, my family moved to America. If anyone knows that even Germans suffered under the war, then the Americans. After all, many from Germany fled to this country at that time. That's 'ow I got to know some Germans. I 'ave no prejudices at all. So please don't worry about that."
"Forgive me. I didn't mean to ascribe anything to you. The rest of the Team neither but... I'm a little worried."
"So you want to tell them?"
"I have to. I want clear conditions to govern between us. I want their trust. And nothing should be kept secret."
"I see. This is a very praiseworthy attitude. Let me give you a word of advice. After your confession, you should avoid Soldier. 'e calls himself a Nazi killer. Always claims he fought in the war, but to be 'onest, I'm not so sure."
"I see. Well, thank you for that. I will remember that."
"'e is not always the same as today. Actually, I would even call 'im a imbecile. 'e talks with 'is weapons and the severed heads of our opponents and sometimes you can watch 'im nose-picking. But 'e is a very loyal man and keeps the team together."
Hans has to smile about it.
"Everyone else is not that complicated. The rest should 'ave no problems with your origin. Only Scout is a troublemaker next to Soldier."
"You are the only one who always admonishes him."
"Oh, I 'ave to. After all, I am 'is father."
"Oh?"
"But it's pointless. 'e is too old to lecture him. Maybe it's my fault. When 'e was little, I was rarely 'ome. 'e loves 'is mother idolatrously, but towards me 'e sometimes behaves as if I were not 'is father."
Spy talks about such a personal topic with a stranger, but Hans doesn't find that strange at all. On the contrary. He is even pleased that one of the team already has such confidence in him.
"I'm very sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, I don't know what to say. I'm not a psychologist."
The Frenchman starts to laugh. "Oh, Docteur. Believe me. The members of this team will visit you in your infirmary very often, and not just because of their injuries. As a Medic, you'll 'ave a multifunction 'ere."
Again a smile appears on Hans's face. He's a surgeon and not a therapist, that's for sure. But early on he realized that he had to adjust himself. Then he will not only heal injuries, but also emotional suffering. If that means broadening his horizons, he will be glad to do so.
The corridor in front of them widens. Doors on the right and left side probably lead to the sleeping quarters of the team members. However, there are only eight doors. That doesn't have to mean anything. Maybe several of them are sleeping in one room.
"You probably know that these are the bedrooms, right?"
"I suspected it, yes. I assume that several sleep in one room?"
"No, everyone 'as their own safe 'aven."
"I'm just asking, because-"
"Because there are only eight rooms, even though we are nine people? You 'ave your bedroom in the infirmary."
"In the infirmary?"
"Yes. Our last medic slept up there too. Very 'andy if you ask me. If an emergency should occur, you can instantly get your instruments without delay."
Hans hadn't considered that yet. It's true. This is much more effective than climbing stairs before. He is still in good shape at his age, but every second counts in an emergency. In Germany, he had spent nights at his ward, too. But only working and never sleeping.
Vell, zhat will probably not make a difference. I don't sleep much anyway.
"In addition, you will be spared from nocturnal disturbances. The walls are thick but not so thick that they would swallow Soldier's snoring or scouts knocking."
"A knock? What is the boy doing?"
"Who knows. But I think 'e throws his baseball against the wall. Either of boredom, or to annoy me."
It's interesting that father and son work together in a team, but at the same time sad to see that they have a difficult relationship.
Only a few meters after the bedrooms, the stairs made out of natural stone come in sight, look quite old, but still stable. They lead once up and once down. The descending steps lead to a heavy-looking metal door.
"That's the basement. Well, it was supposed to be a basement originally, but we use it as a storeroom. There we just store everything. Weapons, ammunition, machinery, food and various other things."
"Weapons and food are not stored separately?"
"Well, we 'ave too little room 'ere to be picky. That everyone 'as their own space is the 'ighest in luxury, which we are allowed to enjoy 'ere. Everything else is kept quite Spartan. Except, of course, the infirmary. It's equipped with the latest technology. You will live 'ere almost like a king."
"Well, I think I will have the most work, will I?"
Even if I'm ztill not quite sure vhat exactly is being pursued here for a job. Pah! As if I vouldn't know…
Now they beginning to go upstairs.
"Mann Co. 'as not picked you for no reason. They know your talent as a doctor and surgeon and couldn't choose a better one for our team."
"But I'm not so well known since yesterday and it sounds like you've been working here for some time. Why wasn't I selected right from the start for the job of uh... Medic?"
Hans hesitates a bit when pronouncing the word "Medic".
Spy shrugs. "Who knows? None of us can guess what Mann Co. thinks or for what motives they act. We just do our job for what we get paid for."
They reach the second floor. Hans is almost blinded by this pure white that covers the entire floor. He is impressed. Heavy had said that the infirmary is on the second floor, but actually, the whole infirmary is the second floor. Only a few steps away from the landing, a large double glass door divides the staircase and the infirmary. It's connected to an automatic system and moves silently apart, as Hans and Spy approach it. But before that there is still a small room, with a table and a chair. Looks like a kind of guard room. On the wall is a plaque saying "This job has worked 0 days without an accident".
This makes the newbie smile.
Hans turns around in all directions. What a huge difference between the infirmary and the accommodations on first floor. Everything is so modern and clean up here. Even the glass of the door is immaculate.
Who in this Team is probably the cleaning crew?
Once again they walk through a corridor toward a double metal door. Probably directly behind lies his work and sleeping space. There are chairs in front of this door on the right and left side, and above it on the wall hangs a clock. It's kinda like a waiting room area.
He really cannot wait to see it but Hans cannot forget what Spy said neither.
"And what are we being paid for? What exactly is our job? Who or what are we?"
They going through the metal double door into a kind of operating room. The largest operating room Hans has ever seen. Cabinets stand and hang on the walls. They are provided with glass, so he can see their contents. They are filled with various vials and tinctures. And there are many. Hans cannot wait to dig through all this medicine. He feels like in paradise. When he puts his suitcase down, it almost have slipped out of his hand, so excited is he.
In the middle is an operating table, above it's the head of an operating light and around it are various devices, such as an angiography device and a sterilizer.
At the back of the room, below two large windows and a wall clock, a desk was placed. Right next to it in a corner is a door that presumably leads to a bedroom. On the opposite side are a mirror and a sink with disinfectant. There is even a small fridge.
Just like the corridor, everything here is snow-white and seems very sterile. And, what Hans has especially noticed is the room above this operating room. A panoramic window gives everyone who stands up there in the back of the glass, an excellent view of the center of this room. This reminds Hans of these learning operating rooms, where behind glass medical students stand while watching the doctor or surgeon operating. Observing through learning. But he can not really imagine that students will be up there to watch him work. Rather, he feels that he should be watched rather than his work. If this room up there is used at all.
Hans is impressed, yet he still waits for Spy's answer. The Frenchman goes straight to the desk and picks up something from the surface. When he turns to Hans, he recognizes a paper folder in his hand, which Spy finally hands over to him. On the front stand in large and red letters "Top Secret!"
"In there is your contract. Look at it closely. You 'ave..." Spy takes a quick look at his watch. "... exactly 15 minutes. When you're ready, we'll go to the consultation room. Then you can finally decide if you want to sign the contract or not. I'll wait for you at the stairs."
The French spy opens one of the doors of the double door, but turns around once more to Hans.
"You want to know who or what we are? We are the infantry of a powerful company. Those who do the shit and the one you don't shed a tear about when we die. In short - we are mercenaries. "
And with that he disappears through the door and the German remains alone.
After a felt eternity Hans can finally tear his eyes away from the door and directs his attention to the folder in his hand.
He has to admit that he is a little scared of reading the contract. Does he really want to live a warlike life again? At that time he had to serve, here he has the free choice. But if he refuses, nothing will change.
He takes a deep breath before pulling out the contract. Surprisingly, it consists of only a single sheet of paper with only a single sentence on it.
Vith your signature, you confirm zhat you give all your rights, your freedom, your life and, if you die before zhe expiration of the contract, your body to Mann Co. as long as zhis contract is valid.
"In other vords, I have no right to ask questions, no freedom to go. And, if my life ends here, I have to give my organs. Vell, if it's for science. It's not like I have a choice or care about it after death."
Hans leaves his suitcase in place and walks over to his future desk, puts the contract on it and puts down the birdcage next to it. He lifts the cloth and looks into the cage. Archimedes sits on his perch and looks interested at his owner with his black button eyes.
"Ve did it, Archimedes. Our new home."
Hans opens the white door and the dove immediately jumps out to sit down on his shoulder.
"Look around. There is plenty of room to fly here."
"Coo~"
"Come on! Have a fling!"
Hans lets his dove jump on his hand and throws it into the air, where it immediately eagerly flies around everywhere. The sound of the flapping wings is extremely relaxing, yet it cannot keep his mind completely clear from some thoughts.
If indeed I allow this to become our new home. I really have to be crazy. But I can no longer stand this dull life. I am a good surgeon, many said that I am the best. Said, I was even perfect. Maybe that might be true, but I have the feeling that I can improve myself further. That there is more, what I can create with my hands. Even if I'm not quite sure, what.
Archimedes flies from one place to another, cooing excitedly. He seems to be feeling very comfortable. At least one of them who doesn't have to worry.
Hans takes off his fedora and looks around for a clothes rack. In a corner next to the double door he discovers one, and something else. A long white coat with a red cross emblem. It's love at first sight.
With joyful anticipation, he approaches it and quickly undresses the jacket and the leather gloves and hangs everything next to the coat, which he touches now almost reverentially with both hands. The fabric is high quality, with a Kent collar and a chest pocket, long-sleeved and so pure white that it could glow in the dark.
He hangs it off and slowly put it on. He carefully buttons the brown buttons on the upper part of the coat and looks down. The rest of the coat consists of an open apron, which reaches almost to the ankles and is split in the middle. Maybe that's what fascinates him so much. Normal white coats, like those in Germany, for example, have no flapping parts, because they could get stuck in equipment and machinery. And not only that. His pants are completely free. He has more freedom of movement. But something is missing. The outfit doesn't look complete.
Hans looks around for a moment. The small closet next to the clothes rack arouses his interest. Actually, it's more of a big chest of drawers with five compartments and a double door underneath. Right on the top shelf, Hans finds exactly what he's missing. A red tie, also red, and surprisingly thick, rubber gloves, a white shirt and brown pants. The rest of the shelfs have exactly the same clothes. Neatly and accurately folded. Everything looks so brand new.
At the very bottom, behind the small double door, the dresser houses black boot-like shoes that are sure to reach just below the knees.
Hans has no idea if he really wants to stay here at all, but he doesn't hesitate to put on the whole gear once. If he really rejects the job as a Medic, he wants at least once to enjoy this clothing. And it feels great. It feels... right and on top of it fits like wax.
"Vell, Archimedes? How do I look?"
Archimedes had settled on the windowsill above the desk. He comes flying to his owner when he hears his name, and settles down on his shoulder.
"It fits, didn't it?"
"Coo~"
"Ahaha! You flatter me."
He pets Archimedes little head and the bird flies back on the windowsill.
"I see you've already found your favorite place, huh?"
In response, Archimedes puffs himself up into a plushy feather ball.
"I know, it's a bit cold here. But we vill get used to it already."
Hans glances at his wristwatch, which he had put down on his desk. There are about five minutes left. Before he sets off to the staircase where Spy is waiting for him, he opens the desk drawers. In it he finds pens of various kinds and notebooks, as well as various medical utensils such as a reflex hammer and a stethoscope.
Although he doesn't really care, Hans wonders what kind of doctor his predecessor was.
When he enters the colorless staircase, there is no Spy to be seen far and wide. Hans looks around in surprise, but he cannot discover anyone.
Strange... Has he already proceed further? I don't know the vay. Vell, zhis base doesn't seem to be zhat big. I will find this meeting room by myself then.
Just as he wants to set foot on the stairs, an invisible voice speaks behind him.
"I see you've already changed your clothes. You look good in it. So you stay with us?"
Expecting to see Spy behind him, Hans turns around, but to his surprise, there is still no one to be seen. Confused, he turns his head back and forth.
"H-hallo?"
And suddenly, as if by magic, the Frenchman appears before him - out of nowhere! Startled, the German takes a step back and almost fell down the stair.
"What the ...?! Did I just have a stroke?" Hans stares Spy in disbelief. He laughs softly.
"Don't worry. You're fine. I 'ave to apologize. But if I stay in one place for a considerable time, invisible I simply feel much more safer. Is probably because of my job. Invisibility means protection for me and I can catch my breath for a moment."
"That doesn't explain how that's possible. Is that… vitchcraft?"
"Witchcraft? Please, Docteur. You are also a scientist. Don't you think that there is a logical explanation for this?"
"Yes. A stroke, for example."
Spy pulls up the right sleeve of his suit and exposes a watch on his wrist. At first glance, it looks like a wristwatch, but if you take a closer look, it has its own peculiarities.
"This is called Cloak and Dagger. Look 'ere. If I press this button..." Spy demonstrates pushing the button and suddenly disappears. Just dissolves in the air. Hans' heart starts to beat faster. He feels unsure, but now he understands what Sniper meant by his remark earlier. "... I become invisible" explains the bodiless voice. "And if I press the other button..." Now he becomes visible again. Hans has to admit that he feels a bit overwhelmed. "... I will be visible again."
"Vell... I have to admit that I have to digest that."
"I understand that. I didn't react differently when I got acquainted with this equipment."
"Does everyone in this team have this clock?"
"No. Only my job as a Spy allows me to use them. For the others, they would be useless. I am a spy. My job is to sneak up behind, get behind the enemy lines to destroy enemies and any Sentrys, so that my team has full rein."
"I uh… see. Sounds like a very responsibly job, indeed."
"Oh, it is. And this watch is not the only one I 'ave in store."
"There are more?"
"Some, yes."
Hans opens his mouth to say something, but immediately closes it again. What should he say to that?
A well-meaning smile appears on the face of his counterpart.
"Oh Docteur, if you only knew what I use next to this clocks. And that was just a taste of what awaits you 'ere. But I don't want to overwhelm you. First settle down and get to know everything gradually. Believe me. After only a short time you will have gotten used to everything."
"What about Mann Co.?" Hans sounds almost like a robot.
"Nothing more than a company that produces weapons and other things."
"And vhat exactly do we have to do with it?"
"We are the ones who test all this stuff."
Hans and Spy are now on their way to the meeting room. It goes down the stairs and back to the familiar corridor.
"We are testers? Just product testers? Why are we called then mercenaries?"
"Because we test these weapons on 'umans. If you can call these… 'umans."
"Vhat do you mean?"
"First things first. And first, it's the conversation with the administrator, and when you sign your contract, everything else comes."
The German would have been too happy to ask who the administrator is, but maybe it's better to wait and see. He will experience it soon, anyway.
"Vho is responsible for things like laundry?"
"Nobody. Everything that is dirty and / or broken will be destroyed and replaced by new ones. This applies to clothing, as well as weapons."
"That sounds pretty vasteful."
Spy just shrugs. "Mann Co. can allow themself and we don't have the right to intervene. Everything we do is our job. No more, no less."
"Do all these things come directly from the company?"
"Fresh from the 'eadquarters. Everything comes from there. Also our food and sometimes, yes sometimes we can also express a personal wish."
"A personal wish?"
"Yes, and it doesn't matter what a wish. Whether it's something special to eat or a book or something that only serves to decorate the room. From whatever country. And my son 'as nothing better to do than to want porn magazines. Can you believe that?"
Now it's Hans who has to laugh. "Vell, he is still young and his hormone balance has to be adjust itself. Of course, we older people have an advantage here. And vhat did you wish for?"
"Without a good wine life is not worth living."
"Haha. I see."
They return to the room where Hans met the rest of the team for the first time. Now he suspects that this room serves as a common room. Nobody is here anymore. And only now does the newcomer notice the camera on the ceiling in the upper left corner.
Spy leads him through the door, through which also Engineer and Pyro had gone, which also leads into a corridor. Even there, he immediately noticed a camera. Were there cameras in the other corridors? Hans cannot remember.
"So many corridors."
"True. And this is not even our most complex base."
"There are others?"
"Oui! Every new season, we change our location."
"Vhat's the reason?"
"I can only guess."
"You don't know because we are not allowed to ask questions, are ve?"
"We could give the impression to question something. Mann Co. knows what they are doing. If we all stick to the rules, we 'ave a really good life 'ere."
"How does Mann Co. vants to know that I'm trustworthy?"
"They 'ave been watching you. A long time."
"I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary..."
"They just know what to do and 'ow. They are no amateurs."
"Vho are they?"
Spy stops. "Docteur, I can understand if you 'ave questions. But it's better to keep it to yourself. I already told you too much anyway."
"Forgive me. I didn't vant to get you into any trouble, and I actually intended to vait with my questions."
"As I said - I understand you. But some things we 'ave to treat with caution 'ere."
Spy continues his way. Hans looks up at Camera before following him.
They are being watched. Probably around the clock. Whether there are cameras in the infirmary?
Hopefully not. I don't think I vant to be vatched vhile vorking ... But probably I vould get used to it relatively quickly. I have to.
Hans looks down, looks at his coat and then the contract in his hand. He can still backtrack, but he already feels a certain fascination for this world. He consciously calls it a world. For as soon as he stood in front of this building, he had the feeling that he had crossed the border to another reality. And after what Spy showed him with his watch, that's not all that farfetched at all.
At the end of the corridor, a door is waiting. Behind it a large, circular room. An equally round table stands in the middle, where the individual group members had already taken their seats. The table is so big that they sit with a great distance from each other.
All eyes are now on him. Heavy looks at him too. His gaze looks soft and so familiar. But immediately he turns his head away and stares stubbornly at the tabletop in front of him.
Without a word, Spy sits down next to them and Medic takes the place near the door, next to Spy and Soldier, if you can call them neighbors at a distance of almost three meters. A glass wall behind the table shows a large, transparent, virtual map with various points and descriptions on it and behind it is another descended room, which is equipped with desks and computers, while there on the rear wall a complicated-looking control panel stands. About it a huge screen sits enthroned it.
Dr. Ludwig has to swallow. He has the feeling of being in the headquarters of an army base and all of a sudden he is overcome by the fear that this is a trap. He's not sure why somone should set a trap for him, but perhaps this has something to do with his time in the National Socialist War Army. Why? To punish him? Are these people perhaps something like avengers that hate the Germans even after 30 years so abysmally that they lure individual Germans under false promises to them to... What exactly? To torture them? To killthem? To judge them?
Deep inside, Hans knows that's nonsense. He hopes it at least. It's just that are not just Americans sitting at this table who have fought against the Germans. But also someone from France and Russia. He really cannot imagine that Heavy is such a person. Not even after his reaction. And he wouldn't expect that from Spy either. Unless he had lied to him when he told him he had no prejudices and that he had not fought in the war. He is a spy. Someone, you shouldn't trust at all.
"Wow! For a moment, I thought our old medic stands in front of us." Hans jumps inwardly as the strong and distinctive voice of the Demoman sounds. "Didn't think we'd see ya in full gear right now."
"Oh, vell I uh... couldn't help it. I hope this is not a problem."
"Not at all! It fits ya, lad."
"The only thing that's a problem in my eyes is that you're another old geezer."
"Scout!"
"It's true! The whole team, with the exception of me, consists only of old farts! And our new Medic looks even older than our old one! He will never be able to keep up with us! And on top of that, it would be great to have a pretty girl in the team."
Spy doesn't complain this time but rather smugly replies: "A pretty girl? You mean a pretty girl like Miss Pauling?"
This statement silences the boy but as the last answer he presents Spy his middle finger.
"I am 50, but still in good shape. I think Mann Co. vouldn't vant me for their business if I vere restricted in my agility."
Scout gives him a derogatory hand gesture and folds his arms like a stubborn kid and starts blowing bubbles with his chewing gum, let them bursting with a loud bang.
"Everyone here in this room is a pro in which he was hired by Mann Co. I trust that our new Medic will not disappoint us."
"Zhank you very much, Engineer."
The American gives Hans a friendly smile. Pyro, who had moved his chair close to Engineer's, puts his head on his shoulder. "Am I right, Buddy?"
"Hudda!"
"He is of the same opinion" announces the Texan.
A warm feeling in Medics inside spreads throughout his body. He hadn't felt that in all those years. He isn't even half a day here and then these people manage to let him feel something like this. Heavy was right about what he said. There is such a family atmosphere between them. Something that Hans doesn't know, although he was always surrounded by people. After all, he was highly regarded by his colleagues as well as his patients. But apparently reputation and family are different things.
He is simply unfamiliar with such things, and now he is seized with another fear. The fear of disappointing these people. All these emerging feelings are so alien. This makes the famous surgeon from Germany anything but professional and, as he always does with nervousness or other strange feelings, he strokes his curly hair out of his forehead. Luckily, nobody notice it.
"Finally finished with flirting?" Soldier barks. "The administrator has the floor now!"
A large screen is let down from the ceiling by mechanical arms and now hovers over the center of the table. A woman in a black armchair appears, holding a cigarette between her right-hand fingers resting on the armrest. Hans guessed that she is equally old like him. She has black, full hair, which is already grayed on the side and on the front, her slender body is in a purple business dress. There is a serious expression on her face. Hans feels deep respect. He has the feeling that it's best not to tangle with her.
Behind her are many screens and a large control panel. Looks almost like a surveillance room. He cannot say for sure, but on one of the screens he thinks he recognizes the infirmary.
"I'm pleased you accepted our invitation, Doctor" she begins. Her voice sounds rough and without accent. "I am the administrator, the all-seeing eye of Mann Co. I see you have already changed your clothes. May I therefore assume that you will sign the contract?"
Hans doesn't answer right away. That he will sign is now a sure thing. But first…
"I vill. But please allow me to say something before I do it."
"Go ahead." With a wave of her hand, she emphasizes her agreement.
"Zhank you." Medic looks around and sees everyone at the table in the eye. They all seem surprised and curious. Except for Spy, who gives him an encouraging smile.
"Before I sign, I just vanted to clarify something. Heavy and Spy already know. I don't vant to have any secrets in front of you and if someone has a problem, please be honest vith me."
Now Scout also seem to be interested. Heavy lowers his eyes again. Now it's clear to see that it's shame. Hans takes a deep breath.
"I'm a German."
Scout's eyebrows go up and Soldier raises his helmet to stare at him with wide eyes and an incredulous look. An indignant gasp escapes from his mouth. Hans had expected this reaction, but the, as Hans seems, patriotic soldier says nothing. Is it because of the presence of the administrator?
His eyes disappear under the helmet again and he, like Scout before, folds his arms. The fact that his lower lip protrudes a little further, let him look like a petulant child.
"I vas born in Germany and grew up there. And I served in the Second World War as a paramedic. But I never killed anyone. No French, no Russians and no Americans."
The team stays silent.
"I was never interested in wars. All I ever wanted was to help people. As a doctor. And I did that after the war."
"Did you know what you are getting into when you come here?"
"Vell... I could picture it myself, yes."
"And yet, despite your attitude, you are here."
Hans doesn't answer immediately, his gaze lowers.
"I uh... vanted to change something in my life. Expand my horizons. Even if zhis means zhat I... Sometimes you have to fight to change something. I'm a medic again. My job is not to kill, but to heal. Zhat has always been it."
"Does that make it better to think that there will be no blood on your hands?"
Now Hans rises his look back to the administrator. "I am well aware that the blood will also stick to my hands. If only indirectly. Finally, I make sure that my team can still fight. So I'm not completely free of guilt. Not even in the second world war."
The administrator just nods and Hans turns back to the team.
"If any of you have such a big problem zhat you zhink you cannot work with me, please tell me now."
Most of the team look at Hans completely puzzled. For whatever reason, he wonders. And suddenly the Demoman starts laughing. Loud and hearty.
"Lad! Ya are here with Mann Co! Nobody cares about origin, skin color or religion. I mean, look at me. I'm black, a Scot and I'm missing an eye!" Demoman raises his eyepatch and Scout turns his face away in disgust.
"Ewww! We know you're a Cyclops, you don't have to prove that!"
"Har har har!"
Suddenly Heavy begins to laugh too, and Engineer and Sniper join in as well. This also elicits a smile from Hans. He looks next to Spy, who also smiles. Only Soldier's face remains unchanged. If it's only one who has a problem with having a German in the team, that is acceptable to Hans. Even if he wishes to get along with everyone. But you just cannot have everything.
"We figured out already because of your accent, mate. So ya don't have to explain yourself. We are rather impressed by your honesty and openness. This says a lot about ya as a human and we can hardly be happier about having such a doctor with us. Right, Soldier?"
Of course, Sniper knows that he is not enthusiastic, but apparently it's common practice to provoke each other now and then. But that's fine. Hans had only with Archimedes such an easygoing relationship until now.
Then it's time to consolidate his place here. He takes the pen out of his breast pocket, which he found in the desk, and begins to put his name in the finest calligraphy in the prescribed place.
"Excellent. Welcome to Mann Co, Doctor. Miss Pauling will pick up your contract tomorrow. Do you have anymore questions?"
"I... yes. Is zhere a way to contact you or zhe headquarters? For emergencies for example."
"No. I'll contact you. And if there's an emergency, I'm the first to know about it. Don't worry about it."
"Understood." Of course she will know. The whole base is equipped with cameras.
"Something else, Doctor. Also, prepare a blood test for Miss Pauling."
"A blood test? For vhat?"
At the same moment Hans asks this question, he remembers what was in the contract. It was not directly requested but still it was clear. Do not ask questions.
With an eyebrow raised, the administrator looks at him and he apologizes.
"If there's nothing else to discuss, I'll say goodbye to you now. Familiarize yourself with the resources available to you. You have one week left. Then it gets serious."
The screen goes black and the mechanical arms lift it back to the ceiling.
Soldier jumps up from his chair and leaves the room without a word. Hans looks after him.
"Don't worry, Doc. He doesn't mean it personally" Sniper assures.
Hans nods.
"Incredible! One week time! We already lost a lot of time just by the death of our old medic. But a doctor is just essential."
"Does zhat mean zhat if one of you has to be replaced, everything keeps going?"
"Sure, of course. On that note we are not that important as a medic is."
"And when did my predecessor died?"
"Last month."
Last month? Last month, Hans received this letter. That would mean that Mann Co. had him in mind a long time.
"Hmm…"
"Oh my god, a German" Scout suddenly exclaims. "I've always thought that German doctors are crazy." The boy rolls his eyes and taps his forehead at Hans.
"What makes you think that?" asks Medic calmly.
"Well, that's common knowledge, isn't it? That you are psychopaths. Sociopaths. That you love to dig through human bodies, do experiments on humans, to collect innards in glasses and... all that."
The team gives Scout a disbelieving look, but Hans has to admit he finds it amusing.
"Don't vorry. I'm a normal man with normal mental health."
"You sure? You can admit to collecting organs. Ask Snipes if he can lend you his piss glasses. In this stuff you can certainly conserve things superb."
"Shut up, boy!"
Hans has no idea what Scout is talking about, but it makes him laugh.
"That's enough! Leave Medic alone. 'e still 'as a lot to do, don't you Docteur?"
"You're right. Zhere is still so much to discover and to do in my infirmary." Hans rises from his seat. "I look forward to vork vith you."
In response, everyone present knock on the tabletop. Even Heavy, while giving Hans a shy and almost apologetic smile. Hans responses to it and leaves the room.
When the door closes behind him, he hears someone say:
"Hey, Scout. Miss Pauling is coming tomorrow."
"Shut up!"
Almost elated, the newly minted Medic climbs the stairs to his, HIS infirmary. It went better than he thought. And that with Heavy will be going okay. He has a very good feeling about his new life.
When he passes the small room near the glass automatic door, he's suddenly grabbed from behind at the collar and pulled into this little room. Hans is so perplexed that he can not defend himself, not to mention what's even happening.
He's pushed onto the tabletop while Soldier sits over him with a hate-filled expression on his face.
"Don't think that I'm falling for you, Nazi! That you hate wars has exposed you as a liar! You Germans love wars. That's why you are here and for no other reason."
He wrenches the contract from him and looks at his signature. "Hmph! Typical German. You think you are sooo perfect, right?" He crumples the precious paper with one hand and drops it to the ground. "But you are not! That's why you lost both world wars. As long as America exists in this world, we will kick your ass over and over and over again, get it?"
Hans would love to say something, but something in him says it would be better to shut up.
"I swear to god, if I find out you're up to something, that number will change" Soldier points to the board labeled This job has worked 0 days without an accident.
"Have I made myself clear?" His voice is very similar to the growl of a wolf. Hans is only capable of a nod.
"Good." Soldier lets go of him and leaves. Medic has to catch his breath. Should he have expected it? Spy had warned him, after all.
When he straightens up, his back hurts. Soldier is very strong. If Hans had resisted, he wouldn't have had a chance. It will take a long time for him to gain Soldier's trust.
Hans picks up the contract and continues his way to the infirmary. His very first task now is to give his contract its original form back as much as possible.