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CHAPTER 3
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This seems a bit shorter than I wanted, but whatever…
I'm sorry I have really sporatic upload dates, I actually have up to like chapter 10 done and written out, I just need to find time to edit and upload. I'm really short on free time right now due to college crap and school stuff and my job, but I'm doing the best I can. So try and enjoy what I manage to churn out…
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"Scout, put the pistol down."
"No! You're not comin' near me! No way, ya freak!"
My arms shook, but I held the pistol steady as Medic held up his arms in a surrender position, various bandaging supplies in his hands. "Fina. You will not heal right and I will have to do the whole thing all over again."
"What are ya gonna do?" I asked.
"I am going to get rid of those bulky bandages."
"That's it?"
"Sí."
"Fine. But I'm keepin' the pistol with me." I lowered it to my side. "Hurry."
Medic cut away the bandages that circled my chest, revealing the ugly upside-down triangle scar that spanned most of my front. For the most part, new skin had already grown across the worst of it. A few still slightly bleeding incisions were scattered around the mostly healed wound as well.
"For the most part, you are healed. But I do not want to take risks." Medic said, beginning to unwrap another roll of gauze. "You will stay here for the first match."
"What? No! Taking risks?! Are you fricken' serious?! After th' crap you pulled with the überheart transplant?!" I exclaimed. "I'm goin' to fight!"
"Then you will be killed." Medic bluntly stated, fixing the gauze in place with some bandages. "I hate it when my subjects die."
"Subjects?! Is that all we are to you?!" I pressed the pistol to his head. "I could…I should....kill you right now!"
"And if you do that, who will be here to keep the team from falling apart at the seams?" Medic asked. He fixed the last bandage in place. "It'll be on such short notice once again. Do you want the BLU team to be slaughtered? Do you want to be slaughtered? Killing me is like committing suicide."
He knocked the weapon from my hand. "You will stay here. You will be safe enough."
"Why?" I insisted.
He stared at me, an annoyed look spreading across his face. "Qué? Are you serious? Your body could reject the transplant. You could be fighting off the early stages of an infection, and if you were to go out into battle, you would exhaust yourself."
"Reject?" I squeaked.
"El transplant, estùpido!" Medic threw his hands in the air. "Human hearts cannot endure the strain of the Übercharge! I had to use an artificial heart; one grown in a lab and pumped full of steroids!"
I unconsciously put a hand to my chest. "So…where did my other heart go…?"
"It will be put to good use." Medic assured, walking back to the lab. "The Games start in tres hours. I would get some sleep if I were you."
I was left alone in the sick bay. Medic seemed…different from the last two days. When he had once been fricking scary and uncaring, he seemed to flip the coin and be the opposite today...perhaps even caring. Maybe it was my imagination…maybe I was the one going crazy.
I took Medic's advice and shut my eyes, hoping to at least be a bit more relaxed before the Games.
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Boom.
A deep rumble rippled through the room, wrenching me from sleep. I sat up a bit too quickly, the new skin covering my chest complaining painfully. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and cautiously stood, fighting off the darkness that swarmed my vision.
Boom!
The explosions were closer now.
I located the pistol that Medic had knocked out of my hand earlier. I retrieved it and held it in my right hand, staring toward the sick bay door. No doubt it was locked, but would it withstand the blasts of Soldier's rockets? What about Demoman's grenades?
I walked around the bay twice, trying to restore some feelings in my limbs. My heart was still making the strange thunk-thump… Thunk-thump… Thunk-thump sounds from before. A slight pain accompanied every heartbeat.
"Right…" I muttered to myself. "I need a shirt."
Just walking around the sick bay with the bandages wrapped around my upper half made me feel exposed. If someone did happen to blast their way in here, I didn't want them to know I had just recovered from a major surgery.
A quick rummage through of the stand next to my bed turned up empty. There wasn't anything in it except for a Pyro's glove.
I sat on the edge of my bed and listened to the sounds of battle outside.
Boom!
Another rocket struck the side of the base, sending another rumble through the room.
"MAGGOTS!"
"Holy shit…" I muttered. The shout sounded extremely close…
Thunk-thump! Thunk-thump! Thunk-thump!
My vision began to go fuzzy again. I pressed the side of the pistol to my forehead, the cool metal clearing my sight and head.
Thunk-thump! Thunk-thump! Thunk-thump!
My new heart was drowning out the sounds outside. I took a few deep breaths, feeling it begin to slow. Another explosion made the floor rumble.
"Just what is goin' on out there?" I hissed. "All dis action…and I have to miss out on it!"
Something shattered just outside the door.
Wait…In order to get into the sick bay, you had to go through Medic's lab…so whoever was out there made it into his lab…?!
I gripped the pistol tighter and stood, making my way silently toward the exit. There were voices…hushed, unfamiliar voices.
"Zis is incredible." One was saying with a heavy accent. "How can one person use all zis equipment? Vat do zay need all zis for, anyway?"
"I do not know, doctor." Said another, this one deeper and more pronounced. "But we really need it."
"Make zure to get ze painkillers." The first voice hastily added. "I'm nearly out. Oh…actually…I think I ran out zis morning…If we don't get more, ze team will complain more zan zey already do."
The sounds of glass being broken rang out in the room, closely followed by the first man's gleeful giggling. "Oh, I love causing so much destruction!"
"There are none." The second man said. "No pain killers. I check everywhere."
"Hmm. Vell, maybe he stored them in ze sickbay."
I ducked to the side of the door and dropped to one knee. When they entered the room, the door would open and hide me from view. That may just give me the element of surprise to land a decent shot on whoever seemed most threatening…
The doorknob began to rattle.
My heart was pounding so hard I was surprised they couldn't already hear it.
"Doctor, allow Heavy." The gravely, deep-voiced man said.
I forced my hands to stop shaking. I was about to face two members of the RED team. If I played my cards right, I might be able to make it out alive…
The door's handle emitted a loud SNAP. The door itself rattled in its hinges for a few seconds until the handle fell out of place altogether, dropping to the floor with a loud metallic sound. I held my breath.
Thunk-thump! Thunk-thump! Thunk-thump!
"No one there, Doctor." The Heavy said.
The door was cautiously pushed open. I was still holding my breath as the man walked partially into the room, carrying a large minigun. He was huge, much bigger than our own team's Heavy. This guy must have weighed over 250 pounds easily. He was bald and I couldn't see his face from where I was crouching.
"Check ze cabinets." The RED Medic was saying.
The Heavy lumbered into the sick bay, his footfalls alone sending vibrations through the floor. There was no way I would be able to take him on alone…not in my current state. I would have to first take care of the Medic.
And yet, I couldn't move from my hiding spot. If I dared to, the Heavy would no doubt spot me. Hell, all he had to do was turn around! I had no idea if the Medic was watching him, either. As soon as I fired a shot, he'd be on me in an instant with a bonesaw.
I realized I was still holding my breath. I let it out as slowly as I dared.
"No medicine!" Heavy reported, rummaging through the nearest bedstand's drawers.
"Zat betrug! Vere could he have hidden zem?"
Heavy turned to the door to reply. I completely froze; forgetting to breathe and steady my arms to take a shot at him.
"I do not…" he trailed off as he spotted me. His relatively tiny eyes widened in surprise and confusion. "Medic!"
"Ja, vat?"
"Is Scout! There is Sc-AAAARRGH!"
Without thinking, I regained control of my limbs and took brief aim, letting a single bullet fly into his shoulder. He dropped the weapon he was lugging around and clutched at his injured limb. I jumped out from where I had been hiding, quickly rounding the corner and taking aim at the Medic.
"What are you doing?" I demanded. "How did'ya get in here?"
The RED Medic dropped the armload of bottles and vials he was carrying with a crash. He was older, at least in his forties. He wore tiny circular glasses at the end of his nose and his short, slightly graying black hair curled in the front. The MediGun was holstered at his left side, a Crusader's Crossbow at his right. "Wo hast dud as her?! Wo kommst du her?!"
"What are you doing here?" I repeated.
Medic blinked, still slightly shocked. He pushed his glasses back onto his nose. "Medicine! Ve need more medicine at ze RED base…! Heavy…!?"
Despite being under my gunpoint, he completely lost interest in me and rushed into the sickbay, where the RED Heavy was still standing, torn between pain and confusion. The Medic upholstered the large MediGun at his side and trained it on the injured man, muttering, "Dummkoph."
"Hey! I'm still here!" I shouted. "I could kill you both!"
"You could have done zat a long time ago." Medic retorted. "So vhy aren't ve dead?"
"Leetle baby man is going to die." Heavy promised with a glare. "Heavy could shoot dead. Didn't."
"So why didn't you?!" I demanded. The wound on his shoulder was nearly healed.
"Look at you." Medic said without turning to face me. "It wouldn't be much of a challenge, vould it? No fun at all."
He finished healing Heavy's wound and placed the MediGun back in its holder at his side. "It is obvious you just received ze überheart transplant, nein?"
"So what?" I said, nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "I can still kill you!"
"Do it, leetle man. Heavy dares you."
I wanted to pull the trigger. I really did. Something…some invisible force kept me from doing it. I wanted to kill them. So what was holding me back?
"Zis would be your first kill, ja?" Medic pulled the Crusader's Crossbow from the holster.
Thunk-thump! Thunk-thump! Thunk-thump!
"Put it down!" I shouted.
"I am not going to kill you yet." Medic said. "You should get ze feel of ze battlefield first. Zen maybe killing won't be as pleasant of a concept for you."
We both shot at the same time. My bullet missed its mark, sailing over his left shoulder. The syringe the crossbow fired hit me in my shoulder, the force of it piercing my muscles and making me stagger.
"Let us go, Heavy." Medic said.
I stumbled against the wall, struggling to stay upright. My vision was too bright, and my ears seemed to be magnifying the sounds around me as the RED Medic and Heavy stepped over broken glass, making their way back to the door.
"Argh!" I spat out, ripping the now empty syringe from my shoulder. My own heartbeat was deafening.
I turned, watching as the REDs left the lab. I wanted to take another shot at them, but I seemed to have lost my pistol. My limbs felt too heavy to move, anyway. The lab door was opened; the two of them greeted by their Scout.
My eyes widened slightly as he spotted me. I managed to fight off the drug long enough to watch him and his teammates abandon me in my own base's lab.
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I was raised with seven older brothers.
My ma was one of the providers, but she never reached the suggested number of children. After my dad—her second husband—died, she didn't remarry and continue providing the city with future workers.
Because of the fact that she was one of the providers, she couldn't find work. She left that up to me. She helped forge my birth certificate and I got a job working underage.
Did my older brothers help? No. They were a lazy bunch of morons. I think the only one that ever paid me any positive attention was Keith.
Keith taught me how to run. He taught me how to fight off opponents bigger than me. And he was really my only friend for years.
Never did I dream I would find him in the Games.
And yet there was no mistaking him…he was definitely the RED team's Scout. Just what had he done to end up here, anyway? The last I saw of him, he said he was off to find out why my dad was killed…
"SCOUT!"
My eyes flew open and I sat upright in the sick bay bed I had been returned to. Medic was standing beside me, anger and confusion written into his face. "Que pasó? Lo Que ha pasado aquí?!"
"I can't understand yer Es-pan-no!" I put a hand to my head. The bright lights in the sickbay were making me queasy.
"Es-pañ-ol!" Medic corrected harshly. He sighed and shook his head. "What happened here? Why is my lab destroyed?"
"The RED Medic." I said, glancing around the room. Along with myself, Engineer, Heavy and Soldier were occupying the bay, all three of them bearing various pained expressions. Engineer's hardhat was sitting on the bandstand, his head swathed in bandages. Heavy's leg was elevated on a stack of pillows and he was sporting a rather bloody cut to the side of his head. Soldier's arm was in a sling and his left eye was swollen shut.
"What about him?" Medic asked.
"He was looking for something." I didn't dare bring up the Heavy that had been with him. "Painkillers, I think."
Medic nodded. "Sí…I myself ran out a while ago…"
"Who won?" I asked.
"A draw!" Soldier shouted. "And it was close!"
"Oh." I sighed. "So did ya kill them after th' Game?"
"Couldn't." Heavy said. "They locked themselves in their base…by the time we managed to break through, the Games had come to an end."
"That sucks." I said.
Medic strayed from my bedside and went to attend to Heavy's leg. "Scout, I want you to stay still for the next 24 hours. Your sudden movements earlier today nearly tore open your wound."
I sighed and propped myself up with pillows. "Hey, Engie, you doin' alright?"
"I'll be fine, son." Engineer said. "I just took a crack to the head from the RED's Engineer. Nothing major, I assure you, but it sure hurt like hell."
"What of th' other Engie?" I grinned.
"I managed to land a shot with my pistol—I didn't kill him, I never got the chance—but he has a nice hole through the center of his hand and part of his arm."
"Oooh. Nice." I said.
"That'll put him back a few weeks, at least." Engineer continued, a solemn look on his face. Despite my enjoyment at his story, he didn't appear to share the enthusiasm. "But even then…I only heard that their Heavy and Sniper were injured during the match."
"Well, it was a draw." I shrugged.
"There's another Game in two days, boy." Engineer almost snapped at me. "It wasn't enough of a setback for them. The goal of this Game today was to cripple the other team as much as we could. Winning would be a bonus. And unfortunately, it looks like they have the advantage."
I sighed. "What about Medic? Can't he just heal us? Like he does in battle?"
"Using the MediGun is a precise science." Engineer said. "If there are foreign objects in the wound, it can't simply close over them! Medic has to manually dig them out; be it bullets or gravel, and then dispose of any narcotic tissue so the MediGun has live cells to work off on, and—"
"Alright, hard hat, I get it!" All that science talk was making my head spin more than it was.
Engineer heaved another sigh. "It's a tough time for us BLUs."
Across the room, Medic assisted Heavy to his feet, allowing the much larger man to use him as a crutch. The two of them slowly exited the room and into the lab, where Medic shut and locked the door.
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BLU Medic is insane, and BLU Engie is so nice. I love writing them.
Anyway, remember to review, please!
Hasta la Vista, Readers!
Lordoftheghostking28
