On the brighter side of things, Medic had managed to re-arrange Demo's vital organs and stitch him back up more or less in time for the battle. And this time, with the bonus of a better functioning (albeit just as scarred) liver. So after playing Tetris with Demo's innards and a few saps of his Medigun, the Scot was red hot and good to go. Medic briefly pondered if the Scot would still be alive if it wasn't for his medical aid and peculiar talents. There's only so long a raging alcoholic lacking depth perception with access to explosives could really live for. Clearly, he noted, this mattered little to Demo. And should Demo ever win an award, it would be of the Darwin persuasion.

"MEEEEDIIIIC!"

This was the third time he had been called for so he hurriedly brought Heavy back to decent health before he rushed to the source of the voice, Medigun at the ready.

"Coming, my friend! Ich komme sofort!"

"Hurry! I don't think I can hang on fer much longer!"

He did look visibly weakened, haunched at the back as he doubled over in pain, legs starting to give way to its body's weight. Physically, he bore all the resemblance of an injured being. However, when he finally got there, he noticed the lack of something very important and rather suspicious.

Where was the blood?

Unfortunately, when that reailsation finally reached the part of his brain that deduced suspicious situations, it was already too late to run or jerk away.

A fatally familiar mist started radiating from the figure that was the injured Demo.

"Shpy!" Were the German's last words from his mouth as a stab sliced neatly past the flesh of his back.

The enemy Spy cloaked before anybody could see him. The Medic's parting words, however, did spark a chain reaction. First, it was Heavy to hear his cry and to see his limp and lifeless body on the floor.

"Medic!" A touch of concern braced his features- could he have stopped this from happening? Then his next instinct was to deploy his minigun in the general area where his fallen team-mate lay.

"We have Spy among us! SPY!" He roared out to any neighbouring team-members when his tactic failed to catch the treacherous master of disguise.

The next to catch wind of this was their real Demo. "Oh ye gobsheit!" He cursed out in his drunken sway about the battlefield, shooting out a few grenades about him to see if it came into contact with anything invisible. While he also failed to suss out the Spy, he did manage to land a few blows on the approaching infantry. This was enough to distract his inebriated mind into feeling a sense of victory.

"HA-ha! I've got tew tickets t' the gun-show and I'm not givin' 'em te ya!"

Engi, watching all this from afar, shook his head. What was this gun-show he was always talking about? Who even went to one? He suspected that maybe, it was Soldier by-chance, who went to these supposed gun-shows. Yet just as this train of thought started going anywhere, his attention was immediately drawn to the beeping of his sentry alerting him something was wrong. He wasn't mistaken when the next thing he noticed was a sapper beneath it.

"Spy 'round here!"

Quickly, he brought out his shotgun, shooting in blind directions, his line of gaze darting from side to side. Damnit, he knew he was close. He had to be.

Just as he was about to surrender all hope, a jar came raining down from the sky, splashing and staining what was around it in a dark yellow. A cloud of smoke came steaming out of a drenched silhouette, along with a string of French curses.

"Theeere you are!" A grin stretched his lips, his natural instincts taking care of the rest as he cocked his shotgun and shot the bugger a couple times in the head. He didn't even care that he had just come into contact with Sniper's kidney-filtered excretions.

"I owe you one, buddy!" He waved up to the marksman.

The Aussie tipped his hat in return. "Just anotha day saved by the use of piss!"

"Ah, gut! You got him." The newly re-spawned and fresh from the locker room Medic marvelled at the ground where the dead Spy found his final moments. The Texan hadn't wasted another breath before he went back to repairing his damaged sentry, nor did Medic in patching Engi up a little.

"We owe the thanks to Sniper."

"Ach, ja. I see zhat." He nodded at the puddle of Jarate. "Well. I best be off. Gut luck, mein Freund!" He bid Engi a goodbye as he ran off to seek out his injured team-mates, the Texan waving at his retreating figure. Before he could turn all his attention back to his sentry, however, Scout came by to pay a visit.

"'Ey, heads up! Their Engi's about to build a 'porter. Y'know, their Spy got our team three times already now."

A grunt. "Damn Frenchie was about to get the best of me before Sniper intervened."

"Shouldn't that freak be in charge of not letting stuff like this happen?"

Oh yeah. Pyro. Engi had completely forgotten to check-up on him before the battle started, occupied with upgrading his own constructions. But what he wanted to know before, he knew now. Pyro wasn't holding up very well with the loss of his beloved balloon so his attention had been less than sub-par.

"Aw, shucks. It's no wonder..."

Scout, not aware of the events that took place prior, stared at him in confusion after Engi trailed off with that vague a sentence.

"Whatever. I'm bailing. I gotta go. Just tell him to step up his game, alright?"

The Bostonian's speedy departure was hardly noticed as Engi stared off into the distance, the noise of his wrench hitting cold metal easing him into deep thought. "How can I fix this?"