Chapter 2
Der Junge

Respawn brought back Heavy and Medic quickly, though not quickly enough as they heard the voice of the Announcer bellow their limited time left through the RED base speakers. Heavy groaned loudly in disappointment. "Doktor, other team will have people who look like us!" Heavy snapped, turning fully around to glare at his teammate. "We have job to do, and job is not to notice if other teammate has same eye colour or nose as our team!"

Medic, however, did not seem to want to let go of this situation just yet. "My friend, do you not understand how serious zhis is?" the Medic exclaimed, grabbing Heavy by his Kevlar vest. His expression was still laced gratuitously with utter awe. "I know about ze ozther team and zhere physical similarities, but zhis is more zhen zhat!"

A pause. "You have not sniffed Medigun fumes today?"

"No - UGH, NEIN, Heavy, damn it! He REALLY looked like me!"

"ALL doktors look like you!"

Medic's expression towards his larger comrade quickly shifted to that of great offense. "Oh, you did not just – " he hissed, but at that moment an explosion shook their base, and both men looked up in surprise just as a RED briefcase levitated past them, footsteps pounding against the ground as it did so. The floating case was soon followed by their Pyro, who stopping momentarily to shout annoyed muffled sounds at them before taking off.

"We talk about dis later," Heavy growled as he raised Sascha, turning and jogging towards the door. Medic muttered something in German under his breath before he hoisted his Medigun properly, following the larger man to chase down the Pyro and the Spy who had their intelligence.

No sooner had they left the lockers before a BLU Scout had darted in front of them and jumped onto Heavy, taking his sweet time with his arm gripping the large man's neck and swatting his baseball bat towards the Medic while hollering insults at the two. It wasn't long before Medic lost his patience and had smacked the annoying man's head across with the Medigun, while Heavy had grabbed the concussion-ridden Scout and threw him on the ground, smashing him with his giant fists while he roared in rage...just as the Announcer's voice came back on the speakers and bellowed at the RED Team's failure.

This only extended the time period of Heavy's pummeling (and also prompting Medic to join in, shouting his own angry death threats at the already dead body in as he kicked its side). After about three to five minutes of this, satisfied with the bleeding pulp that was once the BLU Scout, the Medic and Heavy both gave a deep sigh, standing back up (but not before Heavy gave one more punch towards the Scout's dismembered face), cricking their necks, and wiping the blood off their hands against their clothes.

"Dis would not have happened if not for you," the Heavy uttered towards the Medic, who had pulled out his Bonesaw.

"Ach, don't be such a baby," Medic replied callously, bending back down. He stabbed the weapon straight into the chest of the corpse, tearing vertically downwards as Heavy's glare intensified.

"I am NOT! BABY!"

"Zhen stop vhining like von, Heavy," Medic added sharply, yanking open the sides of the Scout's chest cavity. He adjusted his glasses as he peered down at the innards, looking for anything worth salvaging. "Ve are not going to accomplish anyzhing if you keep it up."

"You say as if we did accomplish anything!" Heavy protested as the Medic threw aside broken ribs (and gave a soft whimper of regret when he realized he had cut in too deep and damaged the heart). The Russian placed a hand on his chin. "Let us see – hmm, FIRST, we push forward and kill stupid baby Pyro. THEN we keep pushing forward and kill stupid baby Pyro again, but not before he put leetle Scout on fire, who keep running, so we go back to heal stupid Scout. SO we go back, but what happen? WHAT HAPPEN? That stupid, stupid, STUPID Pyro is back AGAIN, so we kill him AGAIN, and then we see stupid baby Heavy and stupid baby Doktor and you get distracted by dis baby Doktor's stupid, STUPID FACE!"

Heavy's face became red from yelling, and his voice rumbled and echoed through the halls of 2Fort as he balled his blood-stained fists and crouched back down to glare face-to-face at Medic, who turned his head to look back rather bitterly. "You shout as much as ze Soldier vhen you are mad, have you noticed?" the Medic remarked dryly.

"You. Did not. Do job today," Heavy seethed through clenched teeth as their foreheads practically pushed against each other.

"You say zhat like zhis vas entirely my fault," the Medic spat back, lowering his head and jutting his head forward. His eyes shifted to one of his hands as it held up what looked like an oozing liver, before he threw it aside. "Ugh, zhis won't do at all; ve have damaged so many of zhis boy's organs. I suppose I vill have to do vith having some spare limbs."

He turned away from Heavy to reach for the Bonesaw, but the Scout's body suddenly shimmered blue before it collapsed like sand, disappearing quickly without a trace of blood or guts. "Or not," the Medic sighed, and turned his head back forward to glare eye-to-eye with Heavy. "Anyvay, ve can still get our papers back vith Spy's help."

"Is still failed mission, Doktor."

"Vell, zhere is nozzhing ve can do about it at ze moment," the Medic groused, not wanting to argue about this any further.

His wishes were granted – just partially – when there was the sound of doors being slammed open, followed by the bellowing of the Soldier's hoarse, strained voice where the locker room was to get their miserable, pathetic, sissified, pansy-prancing, un-American, Nazi-Commie, rotting maggot asses into the lockers this instant. Heavy and Medic turned in tandem to look in the direction of the Soldier's shouting.

For a moment, their feud was momentarily put aside as Medic gave another disheartened sigh. "I hope zhose are ze signs of incoming laryngitis."

Heavy couldn't help but give a wry snort as he reached for Sascha, standing back up. He and Medic made no attempts at hurrying to be berated by the Soldier as they walked side-by-side. He heard Medic shuffle and tut under his breath, before he turned to face him. "Heavy..."

Heavy stopped. He looked back at Medic. "Da?"

The Medic shuffled his feet. "Do I really look like ze ozher Medics?" he inquired sourly.

Heavy took a deep breath in, trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "No, Doktor," he replied tonelessly. He paused, before adding, "Other doktors look like you."

Medic's mood immediately lifted. "Excellent. Danke, my friend!" the doctor practically chirped, and he continued to walk forward with a much more confident stride. Heavy allowed himself to smirk before he followed the German.

When both of them arrived at the lockers, the Soldier already seemed to be focused on someone else as he stood next to the Scout, who cringed visibly as the Soldier shouted.

"What do you think you're doing with the ENEMY within OUR BASE, you failure of a French espionage agent?" he belted out, whipping his finger towards his current vent. "I will NOT tolerate for this conspiracy-ridden disaster that is just WAITING to EXPLODE and attempt to take us all down with it!"

"Aw, geez, will ya tone it down a few notches, Solly?" Scout protested as Heavy and Medic walked inside. He wiggled a finger in his ear. "I'd rather have my eardrums be blown out by your rockets right now rather than your shoutin'!"

"You watch your mouth there, son!" the Soldier snapped, turning back to the Scout to slap his hand away and grab that ear to shake him violently (causing the Scout to whine, yelp, and curse). "I will not be sassed by some city slicker whose mama didn't teach him enough manners!"

"OW! Hey, Solly come on, ACK! why you gotta be like that, man? YOW!"

"You think your lily-livered little league coach was bad back in Boston? I'll show you how the big leagues work here, IN WAR!"

The Engineer and the Pyro – sitting down on a bench near the Soldier and Scout – chuckled and snickered softly; the Demoman also sitting with them could only manage a smirk, still feeling the effects of alcohol from dawn. Medic and Heavy exchanged rather expectant glances, before they turned forward. Their eyebrows each arched simultaneously in curiosity when they saw what the Soldier had been shouting at.

Standing across from them was their Spy, who was casually lighting a cigarette, and the Sniper, who was trying to restrain a person down on a chair with a red bag over his head. The victim was struggling fiercely, his bottom right leg soaked with blood, shaking and twisting furiously to get out of the Sniper's, the chair rocking with him. Sniper ground his teeth as he struggled back, baring worn canines. "Y'know, mate, y'could really lend me a hand here, or maybe some rope," the Sniper suggested dryly, glaring towards his masked teammate. "This bloke ain't making it easy for me t'hold him down..."

"What is dis?" Heavy wondered, looking towards Spy and Sniper.

The Spy closed his lighter. "What do you think it is, monsieur?" he responded rhetorically, placing the lighter back into one of his suit pockets. He inhaled sharply, before removing the cigarette from his mouth and blowing out a steady trail of smoke. "While the other team may 'ave our intelligence for now, we 'ave theirs – not in the form of a briefcase, non, but still 'olding particular valuable information, that is for certain."

"Ve have a hostage?" the Medic exclaimed, his eyes widening.

The eyes of Spy twinkled. "Oui, docteur." He placed the cigarette back in-between his teeth. The Frenchman flourished his hand dramatically over the bagged BLU Team mercenary, who still wrestled violently and vocally against Sniper's grip. "A war 'ostage – a prisoner, if you prefer. You can even put 'im in a cage, if it would please you – "

The BLU prisoner gave a very loud, muffled shriek in response to that idea, and the back of his head collided with Sniper's. "YOW! Bloody wanker – " the Australian cried, just as he, the chair, and the prisoner fell forward. The hostage began crawling forward, ready to bolt up and limp away with every fibre of his being, but not before the Sniper, the Pyro, and the Scout all piled up on him, rousing a scream from him as one of them had landed on his disabled leg (which was the Sniper, who knew this because he had been the one to shoot this piker's leg, and he regretted absolutely nothing right now).

They each pinned the BLU down as the Soldier and the Engineer brandished their rocket launcher and shotgun respectively towards the bagged face. (Demoman would have brandished his own weapons or pounced to join the dog-pile, but he really couldn't be assed and he was sure this was under control with three men holding down a slim mercenary.) "Don't think you are escaping our strongly fortified base any second now, you BLU scumbag!" the Soldier barked. "You will be held HERE, as a PRISONER OF WAR, and you WILL give us the intel we require to crush you and the rest of you BLU maggots or you WILL regret every second being put on not just this GREAT COUNTRY alone, but this PLANET!"

The Spy, who had simply let everyone else do the hard work, walked towards the squirming hostage. He placed one of his knees down to crouch, putting his face next to the bag. "For once, I 'ave to agree with ze Soldier 'ere," he purred menacingly. "You should co-operate, little German boy."

The Medic suddenly froze rigid, his eyes widening. Heavy was also quick to catch on to what this meant. "Doktor – " Heavy began, not wanting to deal with this again, but Medic simply ignored him as he immediately stepped forward, pushing the Engineer and the Soldier aside. He bent down in front of the prisoner, reached for the bag, and yanked it off.

Indeed, there was the young Medic from the BLU Team from earlier – his mouth still bleeding, and that bruise from the RED Medic's right hook still on his cheek. His anger, fear, and frustration only seemed to flare up as he stared back at the older version of him, with this other unidentifiable strange emotion in his eyes that the RED Medic could not put his finger on – but no matter.

The initial surprise disappeared at the realizations of what this opportunity had to offer. The RED Medic leaned closer to his BLU counterpart, curving his lips into an ominous smile. "Vhy, hello again, der Junge," the Medic practically cooed. "You most certainly have questions I need answered from you."