The base's infirmary ward was easily the tidiest and cleanest room in the base and it was one of the few that were spared from the destructive battles that occurred on a regular basis. Starkly white with few variations of the colour, the ward was comprised of four beds, two examination tables, a work desk with various neat paper stacks, some file and medical cabinets, as well as a closet for extra equipment. Upon one of the examining tables was the Sniper, sitting patiently still holding his injured arm waiting for the Medic to finish treating the Engineer on the other examining table.
Seeing as the internal bleeding would be time-wasting to treat in the traditional manner via surgery and still a priority condition, the Medic decided to cure his Texan patient with Medigun: a slightly altered Über Cannon meant to heal any form of ailment that the human body could have. It was an expensive piece of equipment and thus the Medic had used it sparingly in the past only for his teammates in critical condition. True; the Engineer wasn't about to die, but the bleeding could develop into something more complicated to treat even if it wasn't affecting any vital organs.
The red healing aura expelled by the Medigun engulfed the Engineer, who's bare chest had a purplish-blue colour around the stomach area, was visually relieving him from the pain as the blotch on his chest shrank and his muscles seemed to relax. However, it could be seen that despite this the Engineer was still shaken from his earlier confrontation with the war-maddened Soldier.
Once the blotch had completely vanished, the Medic turned off the Medigun and told the Engineer that he would get back to him soon. The Texan acknowledged him with a grunt while staring at nothing in particular. The doctor turned to the Sniper's injured arm; it was bloodied, but no longer bleeding. Grabbing some alcohol and cotton from the medical cabinets, he began to disinfect the wound and bandaged it up.
"Lie down und sleep in one of thoze beds, herr Sniper," he told him, "I'll vake you in a few hours."
"Thanks doc," the Aussie replied and promptly did get in bed and soon dozed off.
Once the Medic was sure that the Sniper was soundly asleep, he told the Engineer to dress himself and sit by the desk while he filled in some paperwork. After stacking away the papers, he confronted the Engineer, still seemingly detached from reality.
"Feeling better?" the Medic asked. The Engineer gave a small nod.
"Nein," the doctor retorted, shaking his head, "you are not vell. Although I have no degree in psychology, I can tell somezing is bothering you. Do you vant to talk about it?"
The unfocused gaze of the Engineer slowly met the Medic's own. In a quiet and slow whisper, he asked, "doc, do ya believe in God?"
The German was somewhat surprised at this query but kept his face blank and replied, "vell...I can't say no, but-"
"'Cause I'mma startin' tah believe there ain't one."
He blinked at his patient's remark. While the Medic wasn't particularly religious (or at least, not as religious as the Engineer) he felt somewhat disturbed by the sudden statement. Nevertheless, he went on.
"Vhy would you say zat?"
With a deep breath the Engineer, teary-eyed, explained:
"Think about it doc: all o' them plagues, floods an' wars, God wouldn't have 'em kill his own believers. But they did go on an' did it. Why? Why would millions of innocents die in our second world war? An' dun tell me that t'was to punish humanity for its sins, 'cause ya know it's bullshit."
The Medic was completely silent and somber. He was fighting to keep a straight face, especially considering the incredibly delicate subject that the Engineer implied. The German was not at all fond of the actions and atrocities that his people had commited during that recent period. He did enjoy and seeked pleasure in sadistic manners but even he limited it to getting to see his foes crushed by the patients he would be assisting in battle...and the occasional bonesaw to the face of an enemy Spy.
"I thought maybe there was sum sort of plan, I was still that gullible, still hopin' for it that it wasn't jus' us doin' everythin'. But then I join this here war...an' then I learned that we can even cheat death. At first I thought that respawn was nifty gimmick tah keep us from losing. But as ya already know, it doesn't. What's tha point to fight an' to kill if both we an' our enemy keep comin' back to do that again? It's an endless an' idiotic cycle, only there to keep sum corporate shmucks an investors happy. If God existed, this wouln' be happenin' an' it shouldn't."
The Medic was getting the sensation of déjà vu; there had been previous Engineers who had worked for the RED team and fought along the other members, and have all begun to fall into depression in the same fashion and reason that the current Texan had. He and the Russian Heavy were the only two members who had been in the war for the longest. All of the other members either commited suicide, become ravingly mad, or otherwise unfit for service. The Medic was in charge of making sure that both the mental and physical states of all of the team members were under check, and if they weren't, fix it. If he couldn't fix it, he would contact headquarters and ask for a replacement whom he swore that was a clone of the previous member although he knew that the technology did not exist. But that was besides the matter in hand.
Out of all of the classes the Engineers were the ones whom the doctor had to replace the most. Being easily the most intelligent among the team they would immediately begin to question their purpose in the war between RED and BLU. Eventually they either killed themselves, gone insane and try to kill everyone in the team, or go into depression as they often did.
This Engineer was showing the classical signs of the latter. The norm was to immediately contact HQ and describe the ailment of whichever teammate who would be then either to be placed at once in solitary or put down in the worst cases. They would negotiate a temporary truce with BLU long enough to allow the replacement to arrive and dispose of the old member properly. This, as far as the Medic was concerned, was the same with the BLU team.
He would follow this procedure often times, although he usually took time to try to get those marked for replacement out of their depression and take precise note of why they went down that route. There were some different reasons why Engineers became stressed, but the most prevelant ones were two: their 'behind the scenes' work such as dispensers and teleporters was mostly under appreciated and the sensation that no matter what they did, they would die and so too would their buildings be destroyed. The Medic could relate somewhat to feeling unappreciated, especially when his teammates yelled for a medic when they didn't need him as much as whoever he was healing. He would often get berated by his healthy temmates for sense of healing priority. The doctor believed that he has have nerves of steel considering how much his teammates would criticized his sense of healing priority yet not caring the least bit.
He could also understand the sense of dying despite all efforts. The Medic's role in battle placed him as a priority target, thus he died often if his comrades failed to keep him alive or if he was caught alone in the open.
What he failed to understand was why Engineers valued their machines so much. Granted, anything he would build he would feel protective of it, his Über Cannon was his pride and joy, but even he wouldn't go insane if it got destroyed. Or at least he thought so.
"Herr Engineer," the Medic began, breaking the silence and adjusting his spectacles, "I know vat you are going through, und I realize how attached you are to your creations, but you must understand zat-"
"But it has nothin' to do with mah machines!" the Engineer shouted out, beating his gloved fist unto the desk in a burst of frustration, startling the Medic. "This has never been about my machines! I love 'em, but not so much tah seem like I git mad cow's disease everytime they are blown tah bits! I jus' ain't doin' it right."
"Was war das?" the Medic slipped in surprise.
"Imma not doin' mah work correctly! Me and...hell, tha entire fuckin' world, has been misled by sum fuckin' book full o' shit that has been written over centuries an' by thousands of people an' still believed everythin' it said like a bunch o' idiots! The commies over at Moscow got it right, there ain't no point in worshiping in God 'cause he doesn't fuckin' exist!"
The Engineer had pushed his chair backwards whilst he had erupted emotionally and he was left standing tall over the still-seated Medic, panting loudly. The Medic stared back aghast at the Texan standing before him, unwilling to say anything in fear that it would only worsen the Southerner's attitude. He decided to allow the Engineer's rage run its course before he took action.
"Tha 'Word of God' has made me weak! An' it has been exactly that has been keepin' me to kill them damn BLU's! I'm a killer of men doc. An' I need tah get back to it, so, am I all good to go?"
The Medic was now convinced: his previous presumption that the Engineer was suffering from depression was grossly mistaken. The Texan was becoming mad. Unfortunately there was no manner in reasoning with madness, thus he decided to take the matter into his own hands.
"Nein, you need to rest as vell," he lied, "seeing your condition however, I'll need to give you ein sedative to help you rest."
Keeping a straight face so as to not give himself away, the Medic hoped that the Engineer's state of mind would keep him from seeing through the Medic's plan. The Engineer would be more than capable to do so normally, but this time, much to the doctor's relief, he didn't catch on and nodded, somewhat calmed down.
Minutes later, with the Engineer lying down on a bed knocked out, the Medic clicked on a intercom speaker on his desk and spoke into it: "Herr Heavy, I need you to come to zee infirmary." Within a minute a knock came from the infirmary doors.
"Kommen Sie darin heran."
In came in a giant of a man: wearing a vest with a belt of large calibre rounds, the Russian Heavy had the overall appearance of a sleeping bear, seemingly harmless and dim but ready to pounce on anyone or anything with massive strength.
"Vat do you want doktor?" he asked in a humble tone.
"Zee Engineer is going through one of his phases again. He needs some time in solitary, so vould you so kindly carry him there herr Heavy?"
The Russian frowned. "Engineer is having many break-downs. Does doktor think that Engineer vill ever get better?" he asked with visible worry on his face.
He had been skillfuly tricked by the Medic to think that all of the Engineers had been the same one all along disguising the temporary absence of one as a period of stress that only one had every once in a while.
Putting on a compassionate smile, he reassured his friend: "Do not worry herr Heavy; I promise zat I'll make him feel better."
The Heavy nodded, but wasn't convinced. "I know I am not doktor, but I have feeling that Engineer is getting worse. Maybe I am wrong, but feeling is strong and bad."
With that, he picked up the Engineer with minimal effort and carried him off. Left alone with the sleeping Sniper, the Medic let out a long exhasperated sigh. This was one of the cons of the job, and he really didn't enjoy lying to any of his friends. But his orders were clear, and he followed them without fuss. He picked up his pen and grabbed a form entitled RED REPLACEMENT QUERY and began writing.
This paper took longer to fill than any other form before.
