Engineer couldn't decide which was worse: The horror on Scout's pale face and the terrified tears pooling in his eyes, or the jumbled mound of barely recognizable limbs and innards that was still passing slowly by. Engineer could see it—a frail pulsating—just underneath the thin strips of flesh. There was a heart somewhere underneath that mess—a real, live heart—and it was still beating. Whatever had happened, whatever this was, had been set in motion only moments ago. Moments. The sudden nausea that overtook Engineer made him clutch his stomach.

The room was eerily quiet as they watched it travel along into the shaft, dragging what looked like an intestine along the side of the belt and leaving an ugly red smear. Only after it moved behind the wall and out of sight did Scout seem to find his voice.

"Jesus Christ," he said softly. The delicacy with which he spoke unnerved Engineer.

Cautiously, he ventured closer to Scout, hands held out placatingly. It would be better for both of them if they got out of there, and fast. "C'mon, son, it's alright," he murmured. He set a hand on the boy's shoulder; Scout didn't pull away—he didn't even move.

"Jesus Christ, he's dead," Scout spluttered. "He's dead, Pyro's dead, all cut up an' dead."

At Pyro's name, Engineer's gaze twisted around to where the dark streak stretched across the metal of the conveyer belt. Before he could talk any sense into himself, a new bout of nausea hit him like a wave. He had to wrench his eyes away before the lump in his throat became something worse.

"Hell," he muttered. His fingers constricted around Scout's bony shoulder. "Son, we need to get you back to the hub—"

"Holy shit, he's so dead. Completely dead. Oh my God, it... it killed him."

"Scout—"

"It killed him, Jesus Christ, he's- he's dead, what're we gonna do-"

"Dagnabbit, Scout," Engineer grunted. He couldn't stand to be there any longer—they had to get out before the stench drove them both mad.

With a firm grip on Scout's shoulder, Engineer steered him from the conveyer belt room. Scout had grown silent again, arms wrapped tight around his chest and eyes glued to the floor. Engineer didn't make a habit of snooping in other people's business, but he knew Scout and Pyro had been on friendly terms. Hell, with Pyro? Everyone was. He had felt almost like a little brother to Engineer, despite how little he actually knew about the the boy. To Engineer, the entire team was a family, whether they wanted to be or not. Engineer felt a sudden surge of appreciation for Scout and relaxed his grip on his shoulder, moving his hand to rest on his back.

"It'll be alright, Scout," he said softly. Scout gave a noncommittal grunt.

By the time they finally arrived at the hub, Scout was clutching his stomach. Engineer couldn't blame him; if he had seen as much as Scout had, he'd be in the same position.

As hastily as he could, he pulled his keycard from his pocket and slid it through the sensor, nearly dropping it in the process. The door slid open, revealing their teammates gathered around the center table, playing what looked like a very violent game of chess. They froze, their smiles and snarls shaping into curious frowns, the second they noticed the return of their Engineer and Scout. Medic was the first on his feet; the alarmed look on his face didn't help Engineer's nerves any.

"What happened?" he asked urgently, lifting up Scout's head with a gloved hand.

"I'm... not exactly sure, Doc," Engineer said quietly. Their audiencestared in stunned silence, unsure of what to do. Spy was watching as well, but he was a bit harder to read.

"Are you hurt?" Medic demanded.

Engineer shook his head. "No, I don't think so, but Scout-"

"I know, Herr Engineer, we vill discuss him soon," Medic snapped. He turned to the rest of the team. "Excuse us for one moment, please. This won't take long."

"What is wrong with little Scout?" Heavy asked, worry wrinkling his forehead.

"Nothing, Heavy, he just needs bed rest," Medic said. He began to pull Scout toward the crew's quarters as the team exchanged confused glances.

"Oi, he didn't need bed rest this mornin'!" Sniper said.

Spy rolled his eyes. "He also wasn't in space this morning," he quipped.

"Oh, you just have to go pickin' fights every chance you get, don't you?"

"Only with you, mate."

Engineer hurried after Medic and Scout before the fists started flying. Scout was sitting on one of the beds, already looking less pale now that he was in the doctor's attention. Medic was standing directly in front of him a grave look upon his lined face.

"Sit down, Engineer," he said. Engineer obeyed quietly, sitting next to Scout, to avoid upsetting Medic further. He knew that tone; something was wrong.

"So what's goin' on, Doc?" he asked carefully.

"You must tell me everything," Medic demanded. "What did you see?"

The question caught Engineer off guard. "... 'See', Doc?"

"Do you not understand zis word?" Medic snapped. "Ja, see. With your eyes. What did you see?"

But there had been nothing to see, nothing except poor Pyro's mutilated, gushing corpse-

"It was in the walls, man," Scout said suddenly, surprising Engineer, "Followin' us. It got Pyro, an' then it came back for me."

Medic's intense stare flickered into a startled look. "What? The Pyro is dead?"

Engineer nodded solemnly. "S'a cryin' shame, too. The thing that's botherin' me is wonderin' what on earth happened. If he got stuck in one o' the machines and it sliced him up, we need to rope that area off an'-"

"Stop talking, please," Medic interrupted. He lowered himself onto one knee, matching his line of sight with Scout's. "Tell me exactly what happened," he said, softly but sternly.

"Now, Doc, let's be reasonable," Engineer said carefully. "Scout's confused. He's had one hell of a day, he ain't thinkin' straight. Give him a day to rest, at least."

"Engineer, if you interrupt again, I vill have to continue this examination elsewhere," Medic said. "Who was following you, Scout?"

"Doc, I'm sorry, but you know as well as I do we're the only ones up here."

Medic gave a loud sigh of frustration and rose to his feet, glaring at Engineer. "Fine, then," he growled. "Scout and I will be in the infirmary. If you need something, send Heavy." In one swift movement, he yanked Scout from the bed and swept from the room with an angry flourish, leaving Engineer quite alone. (Alone, just like Pyro had been before he died?)

Engineer heaved a sigh and lowered his head onto the pillow, letting his eyes slide shut. One day; they'd only been up there for one day and now this. It was partially his own fault, too; for being so willing to accept the job, for building the place to begin with. He should have persuaded RED to make the base a little safer, at least. Getting diced by one of the machines you were supposed to be maintaining; what a way to go. But then again, something about that didn't seem right. Engineer was no detective, but something was off; he was overlooking something-

"Engie?"

Engineer's eyes flung open in surprise. He turned his head, hoping to see that Medic had returned with his conclusion, but the thought was only halfhearted; Medic didn't entertain the idea of nicknames, after all. Instead, Engineer found Soldier cautiously observing him from the doorway, helmet in hands.

"Hell, Soldier, you startled me," Engineer said, chuckling good-naturedly. He had been looking forward to a good, thoughtless nap, but he couldn't very well yell at Soldier, not after their friendship had grown like it had. Besides, considering how much time he spent reminding Soldier not to shout over trifles, that would have been hypocritical of him.

"I thought you were asleep," Soldier said, then mumbled, "Didn't want to wake you up."

Engineer couldn't help but smile. "I appreciate the sentiment, but fallin' asleep ain't gonna be as easy as jus' shuttin' my eyes anymore. At least not for a while." He sat up and rested his back against the cool metal wall. "An' even then, I don't expect I'll like the nightmares any."

"What happened out there, Engie?" Soldier asked, quietly moving forward and sitting on the bed next to Engineer. "I saw the Scout. A man doesn't look like that unless he's seen something."

"T'be honest, I ain't sure I'm even rememberin' it right anymore. It went by so fast."

"Avoiding the question won't change what happened. Spit it out," Soldier said sternly.

"Pyro's dead, Soldier," Engineer said. "Probably got caught in a machine and it sliced him up."

(Something's off)

"Dead?" Soldier repeated. His brow became furrowed and the lines in his aged face darkened, making them more prominent. Engineer could see through a thin gap between his lips that he was grinding his teeth.

"I just can't believe somethin' like this would happen, and to Pyro, too." Engineer lifted a hand to his face and began massaging the bridge of his nose.

"He was a good comrade," Soldier muttered, turning his eyes toward the ground.

A few moments of silence passed, which Engineer was grateful for. Just saying it out loud- Pyro was dead- was like signing the poor boy's death warrant. It had shattered any feeble hope he had had of it being false. It had shattered his silence. Everything was buzzing; his mind was filled with the same thoughts.

Pyro is dead. It's my fault. Dead, all cut up an' dead. What if it fell through the grate?-

"I told you, Engie." Soldier's voice cut through Engineer's thoughts like a knife, startling him, making his eyes snap back into focus. "I told you about this place."

Engineer hesitated. (All cut up an' dead) "... Yeah, I know you did."

Soldier looked down into his helmet, as though he'd find something useful to say inside. He must have been out of luck because he turned his head up toward the bottom of the top bunk and remained silent. Engineer appreciated the attempt, all the same. It was comforting to know he had a softer side, even if Engineer was the only one to see it.

"I just need somethin' to keep my mind off... what happened," Engineer mused quietly. "We all do, 'specially poor Scout."

"If you need any help, I'm your man," Soldier said. His hand touched his forehead in a salute, eliciting a genuine smile from Engineer. Loyal to the end; that was his Soldier.

"You might not let other folks see it," Engineer murmured, "But you've got one heck of a heart." Soldier looked like he wanted to protest, which made Engineer chuckle, but-

The heart. Dead- sliced- machine- beating- all cut up an' dead- the heart.

"Well I'll be," Engineer breathed. "His heart was still beatin'." Soldier watched in confusion as the gears in the Texan's brain spun, stringing together every bit of information- and the one fact he'd overlooked in his shock. "Somethin' so meticulous- The rest of him was all cut up, couldn't even recognize him-" He was rambling now, getting everything out, trying to make sense of it. Then it clicked. "By God," he said. Something so carefully executed- preserving the heart- while the rest of Pyro had been nearly indistinguishable...

"Soldier," Engineer said, "I think Pyro might've been murdered."

Scout's hands were in his lap as he sat on the examination table, watching warily as Medic tapped his chin in thought. "Can I go now, Doc?" Scout asked, jabbing his finger in the door's direction.

"Yes, yes," Medic said distractedly, "But get yourself something to eat. You need your strength."

Scout jumped from the table, landing deftly on his feet. "Yeah, alright." It was difficult to tell if he had been paying any attention, however; he was staring at the door with a different kind of anxiety now.

"What are you waiting for?" Medic asked with a sneer. "Someone to hold your hand?"

Scout shuffled his feet. "Actually..."

Medic sighed in frustration and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Dummkopf." Despite his irritation, he moved to the intercom mounted on the wall and held his finger against the button. "Heavy, I need you in the infirmary," he said. He glanced at Scout, who was staring at the door as though Pyro's bloody, revenge-thirsty ghost would float through any moment. "Now, please," Medic added. He released the button and, a few seconds later, Heavy's loud voice came through the speaker, tainted by light static.

"Da, I will be there," he said, sounding cheerful. When Medic turned back to Scout, the boy's mouth was nearly curved in a grin.

"Yeah, good call there, Doc," he said. "Nothin'll come after me if I've got him."

Medic considered reminding him that Heavy was more than a meat shied, but he settled for a noncomittal grunt.

To make it clear he wasn't interested in further conversation, Medic began searching for his notepad and pen in the clutter that covered his desk. But who was he kidding? It wasn't a desk; it was half a table that had been bolted to the wall. He didn't even have the luxury of a chair. The entire infirmary seemed to follow suit in a similar lackluster fashion. It was smaller than the one back at Teufort; less cabinet space had forced him to unload many of his belongings onto his "desk," which clearly wasn't spacious enough for all of it. Medic was willing to cope only because he found that the room had been well stocked- but even then, he still worried that it wouldn't be enough... considering the circumstances.

Finally, he fished out his pen and notebook just as a strong knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Medic said, turning his head. A moment later, the door slid open and Heavy squeezed himself through the door frame.

"Jeez, took you long enough," Scout said impatiently.

"Little Scout is better now?" Heavy asked.

"All he needs now is rest," Medic said. "Would you take him back to the hub for me? He is too afraid to go on his own."

"Am not."

"Scout is afraid of noises in walls?" Heavy inquired.

"Am not!"

Heavy chuckled. "You should not be afraid of them. They are just noises."

"Heavy is right, Scout," Medic said gravely. "There is no one here, other than us."

"Then who did Pyro in, huh?" Scout protested. "'Cause hardhat's wrong- ain't no machine that did this, we were bein' followed-"

"You have already told me what you think happened, I do not need to hear it again," Medic grumbled. "Heavy, just make sure Scout makes it to a bed without getting lost."

"I will try, Doktor," Heavy said with a grin. Scout had already bounded out the door and Heavy was fitting himself through when Medic spoke again.

"Could you come back here when you are finished?" he asked softly. "There is something I must take care of."

Heavy smiled. "Of course, Doktor." Then he was out in the hall, Scout tagging along beside him. The door slid shut, and then- sweet silence.

Sighing, Medic opened to the first page in his notebook, jotted down the date, and began his entry in a careful scrawl; in English, at RED's request.

We have had our first casualty, he wrote. The Pyro died roughly half an hour ago. Witnesses say the body was in pieces, nearly unrecognizable. I must conduct my own research to come up with a more accurate interpretation of what might have happened. Engineer believes that Pyro's death was an accident. Let him continue believing it.

He set his pen down and reread what he had written. Informative, like RED wanted, but just enough to keep others wondering, should nosy fingers pry. That was why Medic preferred writing in German: there was a smaller opportunity for people to encroach on his privacy.

From the quiet of the infirmary, Medic could hear Heavy approaching outside, humming a tune. Medic hurriedly shoved his notebook underneath a short pile of books before Heavy knocked lightly on the door.

"Doktor," he called.

"Ja, one moment, please," Medic said. He yanked open a nearby drawer and pulled out the polished instrument sitting quite purposefully atop all the others: his bonesaw. He let his fingers slip comfortably into their usual hold before he tucked it away inside his coat. It felt reassuring there, bumping against his ribcage like an oversized gun. He only hoped that he wouldn't have to use it. He gave the bonesaw a single pat through his coat to make sure it was in place, then joined Heavy out in the hall.

"Forgive ze wait, I was finishing up my report on the Scout," Medic said.

"Is not a problem," Heavy said with a smile. "Doktor has things to do. I can wait."

With some difficulty, Medic let his face relax into a smile. "And I appreciate you all the more for that."

"So what are we doing now?" Heavy asked.

"First thing first, we must find and examine the Pyro's remains." Medic huffed and rubbed his temple. "According to ze Scout, it happened in a room with a conveyer belt. That would be this way. Follow me." Medic had hardly taken his first step before he added, "And stay close to me, please."

Heavy chuckled. "Do not tell me Doktor is afraid of the noises as well."

"Terrified of them, actually," Medic replied frankly. Whether Heavy recognized his honesty or not, he smiled and rested a hand on the small of Medic's back as they walked.

"Then I will make sure that they cannot hurt you," he murmured. Nevermind how close Heavy's hand had landed next to the hidden bonesaw; the reassurance Medic felt was worth it.

But as they walked, the walls were silent. Medic could hear their shoes tapping against the floor, Heavy's steady, deep breathing, his own heart pounding- but where were the noises? The scratching, the hissing, the breathing? Medic wasn't comforted by their absence; rather, it chilled him.

Are they watching? Medic thought, his eyes shifting about the walls. Are they waiting? To Scout, he had said, "There is no one here." He wished he could believe that himself.

"Here we are," Medic said once they reached the right room. His voice was amplified by the silence of the corridor, the sound of fear echoing among the anticipating. Somewhat conveniently, the door had remained unlocked after Engineer and Scout's hasty retreat, and it slid open automatically when Heavy and Medic approached it. At once, a dimming stench flooded Medic's nose; Pyro had indeed been here.

"The conveyer belt must have taken the remains to another room," Medic observed quietly, noticing how the belt continued through the wall.

"Then we will follow it," Heavy said. "Is not hard." His hand left Medic's back as he moved away, heading for the exit. Medic made to follow him, but something stopped him. Scratching. On the other side of that door- the door that Heavy was approaching- and Christ, it was going to open automatically- shuffling, tapping, wheezing. Medic could hear the long draws of breath, felt them echo hollowly in his chest.

"Heavy," Medic spluttered, "No, vait-"

Too late. The door slid open with a hiss- Medic fumbled for his bonesaw- the room began to spin-

"It think you were right," Heavy muttered, pinching his nose. "It smells worse in here."

Nothing. Just the same stillness. The silence had returned.

Heavy turned around, and a frown appeared on his face when he saw Medic, looking rather pale and clutching his bonesaw by his side. "Doktor," Heavy said sadly, "You did not have to bring that. You know I will protect you, don't you?"

"Yes, of course," Medic sighed. The corners of his lips curved into a slight smile. "But sometimes, I am not the one I worry about." Heavy could do little more than grin in return before Medic tugged him through the door.

I'm not going crazy, am I? Medic wondered, shooting a glance behind them- just in case. This is merely a classic case of paranoia. Pyro's death is getting to me. I need to stay logical. But reason said the atmosphere was dark, dank, and intimidating, that it reeked of death, and that he had every right to be concerned.

The conveyer belt ended here, about halfway into the room before it doubled over and ran back through the wall. There was something- a shapeless lump near the foot of the belt, slightly slouched over as if it had been dumped there. Medic's best guess was that it was Pyro, but it was too dark to tell from where he stood.

"I will have to speak with Engineer about ze light fixtures," he muttered crossly. He approached the lump wearily, staring at its silhouette as if daring it to move, just to justify his fears. But it didn't move; it didn't even twitch. Medic garnered his courage and moved closer.

"This is Pyro?" Heavy asked quietly.

Medic tugged his gloves down a little tighter and lowered himself onto his knees. "We will see."

Whoever it was, it had once been alive. Medic recognized the signs; the colors, the smells, the fluids- all except for one. Very carefully, as if handling something precious, he ran his finger through the thin gray film that covered the mass of flesh. When he lifted his finger away, a thin string stretched from the flesh to his glove.

"That is not blood," Heavy observed, nonplussed.

"This fluid does not belong in the human body," Medic said, eyes narrowed. He rubbed his forefinger and thumb together, watching as the gooey substance slid across the rubber of his glove.

This proved him right, then, didn't it? The presence of an unexplained, inhuman bodily fluid confirmed his hypothesis- not that he'd ever really doubted it. Regardless, he had been correct; all the more reason to be unsettled.

Medic continued to poke and prod, making note of anything that stood out, every little detail. Heavy stood a little ways away, reluctant to watch. As much as Medic wanted to prove he wasn't digging through Pyro's remains, there was no evidence to suggest otherwise. A typical piece of intestine here and a fraction of normal stomach there wasn't enough to tell him anything he needed to know. He was able to identify most of the organs, including the heart, which was in surprisingly good shape. He was considering heading back to the infirmary, until a sizeable chunk of lung compelled him to examine it further.

"Heavy," Medic said, holding the organ higher so the other man could see, "Do you know what is wrong with zis lung?"

Heavy leaned forward to scrutinize it, despite looking rather clueless. "No," he said, then looked up at Medic questioningly. "Nothing?"

"Precisely," Medic said with a grin. "This lung shows no traces of smoke damage. Contrarily, the Pyro's lungs were considerably damaged."

"So Pyro is still alive?" Heavy asked.

Medic frowned. "Not exactly. This only means that his actual lungs are somewhere else. But there would be no point in killing him and going through all zis trouble just for his lungs... If this lung is not his, I highly doubt that the rest of this," -he gestured at the tangle of flesh- "belongs to him as well."

Medic has expected Heavy to be pleased but instead, a look of concern had appeared on his face. "Doktor," he said softly, "You think Pyro was killed?"

Medic blanched. Had he let that slip? He had, hadn't he. How could he be so careless? It was too late now that Heavy knew; the time for smoothing things over had passed.

"Ja, I think that it is likely," he murmured, tossing the lung back onto the other organs. "Although it looks messy, it is actually very precise. Everything is in pieces, except for the heart. It was untouched. A machine couldn't do that on its own."

"But who killed him?" Heavy asked as Medic looked away. "It wasn't one of us, was-"

"I think we should be heading back now," Medic interrupted. He rose swiftly to his feet again, tugged off his soiled gloves, and slipped them into his front pocket. When he glanced at Heavy, he found a severe frown on the Russian's face.

"But Doktor, this is important," he said.

"Maybe we will talk later," Medic muttered, "But now is not ze time."

Though Heavy still seemed reluctant, he followed as Medic moved for the door. Medic himself couldn't help but feel slightly guilty; for all the good Heavy had done for him, Medic couldn't even tell him the truth, that they were all risking their lives by being there. Medic didn't believe that wishing was capable of solving anything but in that moment, he found himself wishing that he could tell everyone otherwise and so they could all just go home...

"Doktor," Heavy said, once they were back in the corridor, "If that was not Pyro, who was it?"

"I don't know," Medic replied. "But there are only so many people it could be."

An honest answer; finally.

It was quiet back in the crew's quarters. Engineer hadn't decided how he was going to break the news to his fellow teammates; minus Heavy and Medic, of course, since they hadn't come back yet.

His discovery had led to another realization, unfortunately, one that made him wonder if he should spread the news at all. There was a limited number of people in the base. Eight people, including himself. That didn't leave much room for debate concerning the murderer's identity. As horrible as the mere notion of it was, it had to be one of them. There was no other possibility.

After his initial epiphany, he'd asked Soldier to wait for him out in the hub and everyone about Pyro. That meant that as long as no one had left in since he was last out there, Scout, Soldier, Sniper, Demoman, and Spy would be his first audience. Were they murderers? Would they kill one of their own teammates? Sniper- maybe, on a particularly bad day, and with reason. Scout was obviously ruled out. Demoman was as well, considering he'd been with Engineer at the time. Engineer didn't like to think it but if pushed too far, Soldier was capable of causing mishaps. He had less trouble picturing Spy as the killer, but Spy wouldn't be so barbaric and, as far as Engineer knew, didn't have anything against Pyro. It was no use lying to himself; he didn't suspect any of them. He couldn't. Engineer groaned as he stood from the bed. Whether he thought of them as killers or not, they had to know.

Everyone was minding their own business when he entered the hub. Soldier turned away from his conversation with Demoman and met Engineer's gaze immediately, looking expectant. Scout was sitting at the center table, staring at the small package of crackers in front of him. Spy and Sniper were nowhere to be seen. (Did this cast suspicion on them?)

Engineer cleared his throat. "'Scuse me, fellas, I got somethin' y'all need to hear." At his voice, Demoman and Scout looked up, but he could only hold their attention for a moment. Something behind him had captivated them and widened their eyes. Demoman's whisper of "bloody hell," was enough to get Soldier to start staring, too. Engineer felt a pang of anxiety rack his body; what would he see when he turned around? Spy and Sniper, soaked in blood and cradling the heads of Medic and Heavy?

He turned quickly, expecting the worst- not expecting what he saw. There, hunched over, wheezing, and slick with blood, clutching a ragged ragged gash in his stomach, stood Pyro.