Engel looked up just in time to see the BLU Sniper in his perch, ducking out of view. He was dimly aware of something hot and wet against the skin of his chest and stomach. The RED Medic quickly darted behind one of the abandoned railcars and looked down to see a stain of bright crimson blossoming across the front of his lab coat, its center on the lower right side of his chest, along with a ragged bullet hole in the fabric.
The wound didn't hurt at the moment, a reaction of the doctor's body to the sudden shock of the injury. Engel knew it wouldn't last long, and decided to take advantage of it, making a sprint towards RED's side of the battlefield. He was acutely aware of his blood-soaked undershirt sticking to his skin, growing cold against his flesh as he ran.
Panic welled up inside the Medic as he realized he was becoming winded far faster than usual. "Help! Someone, bitte… schnell!" he cried out between increasingly labored breaths, but none of his team was in sight… or earshot.
His legs were getting so heavy and tired, and each breath came with more difficulty. The doctor wasn't sure if this was caused by blood loss, or if the bullet had grazed his lung… or both.
A spike of pain came suddenly from the bullet wound in his chest. He gasped in surprise, and immediately regretted it. Engel felt his throat close up as blood was sucked into his lungs, and he had to stop and lean against the rail yard's chain-link fence as he fell into a fit of violent coughing. Each spasm sent a bolt of fresh pain lancing through his chest, and the bullet hole felt inexplicably hot.
When he finally managed to clear his lungs the doctor could hear the sound of approaching footfalls some distance off. His hopes soared as he imagined Sokov lumbering around the corner to take him to the safety of their base. The doctor's smile faded, though… No, the footfalls were too light, too deliberate.
Engel caught a glint of metal at the edge of his vision, and turned to see the BLU Sniper emerge from behind a large crate about ten yards away, gripping his kukri. The Medic found his presence out in the open to be highly uncharacteristic of the usually evasive man… What was more unsettling, though, was the aggressive smile on the Sniper's face.
"G'day, Doc!" the Aussie called out, once again flashing the shark-like grin, causing terror to rise up once more in the RED Medic.
That gripping fear gave Engel a sudden burst of energy, and he broke into a stiff run, his tiring body struggling to carry him forward. He could hear a loud ringing sound, and flashes of lights near the railway up ahead… the train was coming. If he could just make it to his allies' side of the tracks in time…
The doctor began to choke again as he ran, and flecks of blood spattered his lips every time he exhaled. He couldn't stop though… he could hear the Sniper gaining on him. He couldn't risk tripping to turn and fire his Blutsauger at the man, either.
Engel strained to go faster, but the weakness in his muscles and the pain radiating from his chest with every gasping breath was almost too much to bear.
"C'mon mate, I just wanna have a little chit chat with ya!" the Sniper yelled over the roar of the approaching freight train.
They were getting so near the tracks, but the train, dragging dozens of heavy cars behind, was nearly there. It was going to be very close. The doctor could vividly imagine the steam-powered behemoth striking him, instantly crushing every bone in his body and splattering what was left along the tracks for miles… It was a horrifying image, but not as bad as the thought of being slowly hacked apart by the mad Sniper.
Engel finally reached the tracks, and, with the train barreling down on him he leapt, and the Sniper swung his blade. The Medic felt the tip of the sharpened kukri dig a shallow cut into his back, heard the blaring horn of the train… and then felt the sudden rush of air as the train blasted by, missing him by a mere fraction of an inch.
The doctor reeled away from the tracks and fell backwards against a stack of wooden crates. As he slumped to the ground he could catch glimpses of the BLU Sniper between the train cars rushing past. The man was clutching his bloodied, mangled right arm, and his blade was nowhere in sight. Engel saw the Aussie's mouth moving, and was sure he was uttering screams and curses that were drowned out by the roar of the passing freight train.
The Medic managed to drag himself behind the stack of crates where the enraged man could no longer see him. He could see his base a mere hundred yards away, but it seemed now an impossible distance.
"Someone," Engel called out weakly, "help! Bitte…" Nobody responded, and he could feel his life bleeding out of the bullet wound with every beat of his pounding heart. He started to turn the Medigun at himself to heal the wound… but it was a desperate notion that he did not long entertain. The feedback created by aiming those energies full-on at their source would be disastrous.
He tried to cry for help again, but it came out as a blood-choked gurgle. It was suddenly a burden to even keep his head up, so Engel rested his chin on the barrel of his Medigun for support. The doctor closed his eyes, and felt the blood continue to flow. He could feel the tightness build with every pained breath as the fluid filled his chest cavity. It would take at least fifteen minutes for him to die at this rate, and he felt so cold and alone.
Engel ached for someone, anyone to hold him, to carry him to the safety of the base that lay so tantalizingly close, yet just out of his reach. His eyes opened suddenly when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. The face of the BLU Spy was inches from his… he must have been cloaked and waiting. The lithe-looking Frenchman was crouched in front of him like some kind of predator, casually taking a drag from a cigarette.
"Docteur," the Spy greeted with a soft smile. He leaned in, and blew the smoke from his cigarette into the Medic's face. Engel struggled to keep himself from breaking into another painful coughing fit, and weakly reached for the bonesaw hanging from the belt at his waist.
It took the Spy little effort to bat the Medic's hand away from his weapon, and knock him painfully to his chest with a kick. Engel tried to push himself up on his elbows, but the Spy placed a hand between his shoulders and forced him back down. The doctor managed to kick out, and felt his boot strike something with a loud crack, resulting in a string of French curses from the other man.
The Frenchman placed his knees hard against the backs of the Medic's legs as he tried to kick out again.
"Zat was very unkind of you, Docteur," the Spy hissed, his voice sounding a bit more nasally than before. Engel could hear the man unfold his knife, and feel fingers probing his lower back, as though searching for something.
"You will not be doing zat to me again, I assure you," the Frenchman cooed. The doctor felt the fingers stop at a place on his back, and they were joined by the sharp point of the balisong. The pressure at that point built painfully, and the German cried out weakly as the knife was thrust into his flesh. There was a sudden shock, like electricity, as the blade stabbed through his spine. The medic could no longer feel the Spy's knees pressed into his legs, and was terrified to find that he could not move his lower limbs.
"Zhere… all better," the Spy chuckled lowly. The Frenchman grunted with effort as he turned the Medic onto his back. He grasped the heavier man by his ankles, and began unceremoniously dragging him across the ground, leaving a trail of the doctor's blood as they went.
Engel gripped his medigun tightly against his still-bleeding chest, holding it like a frightened child would grasp a teddy bear. His heart was beginning to flutter now, and his vision faded into a hazy gray tunnel.
"Bitte… help…" the Medic could barely hear his own choked voice as the world went black.