He couldn't stop. Not now. He had taken a gamble, had flipped the coin, had put his life on the line. Literally. Small bullets struck him from every direction, a rocket whizzing over his head and exploding just a few feet away, shrapnel shredding the skin of his arm as he shielded his face from the blast. The rain and firing weapons rung in his ears almost deafening him. The look of pain was now etched on his face, lips drawn back, exposing his bloody fangs. Feet slipping as he trudged uphill through the slippery mud, boots soaked right through, trousers sprayed with brown and scarlet. He had to do this. For his team to win. For the opposing team to lose. He had signed the form and was doing what was required of him: to press on no matter what. And he was, being as loyal as a dog is to his wise master. Tears ran down his face, or was that simply the rain? Right now he didn't give a damn, weakened muscles pushing with all their might the payload over the tracks. His breath was ragged, deep and wheezy, his lungs felt shrivelled up, his legs feeling like they were about to collapse.
"DOKTOR!" The cry of the Heavy echoed throughout the chaos, when suddenly everything, evry sound seemed to cease. He wondered if he had gone deaf but was proved false as he could still hear the rain pounding against his damaged ears.
The Heavy looked on, rain coming down heavily against his thick skin. The sound of that word had caused everyone to cease fire and stare at this man, his man, his Medic as he struggled to push the cart the last metre or so up the muddy hill. They didn't stop because the Heavy had simply shouted and frightened them, it was the fact that this man, this son-of-a-bitch was so torn apart, so brocken, dead even, yet he had so much life force pushing him forward. Despite the leaking bullet holes in his side, the shredded arm littered with shrapnel and flesh exposed and gushing that crimson liquid, he fought on. The Heavy had not seen so much dedication and persistence in anyone he had ever seen. Ever.
The Medics pained groans and whimpers seemed to be louder than the thunder that sounded over the battlefield, as finally, the bomb was planted in its spot and the Administrator shouted the usual 'Victory!'.
He had done it. He had scored a victory for his team. His legs finally buckled underneath him and he fell back into the dark mud. His heart rate slowed as his hand clenched on his chest, chest slowing, each breath taking longer to inhale and exhale. He could not feel the pain as that life liquid seeped into the mud from all the wounds sustained. Eins.
"DOKTOR!" The Heavy shouted again and he could make out footsteps, becoming louder and louder. Then they faded away as his ears became lost. Zwei.
A large blurry figure came into his hazy view. It was the Heavy and soon more figures gathered around. He could see the Heavy's hand reach for his cheek, but he couldn't feel it's rough yet soft touch. His eyelids grew heavy as the objects above him soon blended into the darkness. Drei.
Soon his body descended into darkness as his soul rising above the rain and clouds, high up into the sky where the Medigun was always at hand but never required, where you had no enemies, and where you always won. He heard the Heavy's final cry of distress before he finally reached peace. Vier.
