Now I'm gonna write something sad. Or is it angsty? I'm still trying to work on dialogue but it's still not working. Solution? Hit it with a wrench.

It was called, a glitch. Deaths were glitches in the system and were to be treated as nothing else. Common causes were temporary blackouts, intentional sabotage of the respawn system, and out of bounds assassination.

The Blu Medic's head swam ass he rose back into consciousness. His entire body throbbed with every heartbeat. The lights, they were too bright. His skin felt tight and stung with every movement from bruises and cuts making meandering paths along his limbs. Squinting, he could see three shapes standing in front of him. It was a shame he'd lost his glasses. Their voices cut into his mind like pieces of ice. Whatever they had to say, it wasn't going to be good.

"We glitch him. Simple."

"You, you mean for real? We're gonna take him out?"

"Whot do you mean we? You do it."

"I aint no murderer!"

"You seemed to 'ave no problem batting him in ze head."

"Look, if you're going to be such a bloody wuss I'll just drive him out tonight."

"Take ze kid."

"Screw you ya fat frog."

The Medic lifted his head as the Spy left the room. His head throbbed remembering the Scout's bat. His medipack was removed and he wasn't regenerating health any more. Stretching his shoulders, the Medic tried to relieve the ache in his arms. Grimacing, he realized that his hands were tied behind his back to the chair he was sitting on. Looking down at his lab coat, he saw the many bloodstains swimming under his gaze.

"Hey." The Sniper's shadow fell over the Medic's body. He nudged the Medic's head with a glass. Flinching from the Snipers hand, the Medic glanced up warily. "Drink it"

Opening his mouth, the Medic let some of the cool liquid flow over his parched tongue, washing away the taste of copper and bile. All too soon, the glass was emptied. He let his tongue hang partially out of his mouth to catch the remaining moisture still left on his lips. He watched silently as the Sniper settled into a chair across the room from him, putting his feet up on a desk and pulling out a worn novel. He ignored the Medic totally at home in the blue-floored room.

When he had first been captured, the Medic was storming the enemy base with the Heavy. They were close to the intelligence when a sentry took down the Heavy. He had been overconfident and had faced down the Sentry's brutal rockets only to lose and vanish to respawn.

Frustrated, the Blu Medic had made a dash for the red intelligence. They were so close to the intelligence room he hated to miss the oppourtunity. He wasn't like the Red Medic, always abandoning his Heavy and teammates in the heat of battle.

He had just reached the intelligence when,

"Medic!"

The Medic turned around in shock to see the Scout run into the room. He was bleeding badly and was limping, running much slower than usual.

"Scout, Vat are you doing?"

"Shut up and help me out man! I'm freaking dying here."

As the Medic pulled out his medigun, the Scout moved to grab the intelligence.

"One Second, Ze Engineer has a sentry up so you vill have to-"

The cold edge of a butterfly knife rested on the Medic's pressed collar. Hardly daring to breath, the Medic held himself stock-still. "Verdamed Spies."

"Oh doctor, we meet again. You know, the last time I disguised myself as you, I managed to backstab your morbidly obese friend at least three times. You really need to start watching your back better." He chuckled at his joke.

"You need to start bathing. With all that perfume of yours you just light up like a match." The Medic moved his arm to reach for his bonesaw. Pulling away from the Spy's grasp, he turned on his heel to swing the saw at the Spy's head.

The Spy grabbed the Medic's arm, twisting it. Gasping in pain the Medic dropped the saw. Struggling to pull back his arm, the Medic was unable to stop the spy from disguising as the Medic. There was a sickening moment as he looked into the eyes of his enemy before he was hit with a swift blow to the head. As he crumbled he heard the ringing of a bullet. He was unconscious before he felt the impact.

When he woke up again, he was being carried. He was slung over somebody's shoulder like a sack of flour. He fought back a wave of nausea as his head knocked on the back of a large body with each step they took. The Heavy? No, the shirt...was red. His eyes flew open in panic. He wasn't wearing his glasses and everything he saw was a red and grey blur.

"Mein gott get avay from me!" He struggled in the enemy Heavy's grip, arms flailing and grasping. He raised his left arm to strike at the Heavy's head when he felt the limb crumble. He was suddenly all too aware of the bullet wound in his left scapula. It likely chipped the bone. It meant the Medic was it too much pain too soon.

"Puny Medic should stay still." He felt the vibrations of the man's low voice. As the Medic raised his head, he could make out a fast moving metal object. It rung as it collided with his head. The Medic groaned and stopped moving. It took so much effort to keep his eyes open.

"There, he stopped!"

"Was not good idea. If he dies he respawns."

"Oh crap oh crap oh crap! I think I gave him brain damage! Do you have a health pack? Shit!"

Through half lidded eyes, he say flickers of light and blurs of blue and gray. He felt like he was floating as he was carried and sat down in a chair.

As his arms were yanked behind him and died he began to come back to his senses. His mind was racing. He had to escape immediately! He had just started kicking at the chair leg hoping to do something to get free when the Spy walked in.

"Hello Doctor. I'm here to get some information."

There was no pleasant way to describe torture. The concussion was a boon in some way. He could barely remember anything. There was pain, so much pain. Everything felt angry, his head buzzed like it was full of wasps and his skin was crawling with trailing cuts and bruises. His leg was probably broken at the fibula. It would take at least two months to heal naturally.

That brought him to his present situation. Tied to a bloodied chair in tattered clothing waiting to be brought to a swift execution. What a horrible day.

Any time he tried to free his arms, the Sniper would lower his book and just stare at him. It wasn't the staring that bothered him so much as the knife that he was holding.

After a time, the Medic heard the sounds of boot steps. The Demoman walked into the room, swinging his bottle. The Medic was not fond of the Red Demoman. He was definitely not fond of the reds, but the Demoman and his sticky bombs held a special place in the Medic's mind.

"Ey Sniper!" He sounded happy. Drunk happy.

The Sniper didn't look up from his book but sent a wave over. "Hey there Demo. Whotchya here for?"

"Dinner time, I'm here to take over for you." The Demoman situated himself on top of the desk across from the Medic and took a swig of his bottle. "I'm not so drunk that I can't look after a tied prisoner. Ha, I'm not even drunk!"

Medic felt his stomach gurgle. He hadn't eaten since breakfast the other day. He might be able to ask the Demoman for some food. If the Red was drunk enough, he might leave him alone and he could escape.

The Sniper sighed and shook his head as he got out of his chair. "Whatever you say. I'll come back in an hour or so."

"Take your time!" The Demoman yelled as the door closed behind the Sniper. "Now mister Blu Medic, how are you doing?"

He must have been drunk. Medic squinted and pursed his lips in frustration; he could barely make out the Demoman's features. Was he playing a joke? It may have been the Spy coming to warp his mind. He kept his mouth shut.

"Strong silent type, eh? That's okay." There was a pause. The Medic was still trying to determine what is motive was.

"I'm a simple man. Sure I live in a mansion, but I wans't born into it. Me dad had jobs, jobs upon jobs to make it in America. Tought me how to brew my scrumpy! You know, when you're drinking you feel immortal. Then you realize you're human. One day I'm gonna die and when I meet my maker it won't be a proud day. If you're a religious man, I can get you a bible. There's one in me room. I've read it every night here." He paused and took a swig of his drink before continuing on.

"I'm a bloody cyclops. Do you know how old I am? Ancient! I was visiting my mother last week and do you know what she said? When am I having kids. Bless her heart. I couldn't face a woman with these bloody hands."

"I'm a killer. I killed a man in cold blood." The Demoman put his head in his hands. "Do you know what I mean doc? I killed a man and he didn't come back."

"Why are you telling me zis?" The medic croaked bitterly. It was humiliating. He was going to die, and some black cyclops was weeping his heart out to him like some sort of woman.

"Who knows. I've got to get some stuff of me chest. We're all humans."

The Demoman pulled over the desk chair and sat across from the Medic to look him in the eyes. The Medic looked into the clear brown eyes of the Red Demoman. "I want to give you a chance to speak before you die."

The Medic sniffed, "And what makes you think I need zat?" He didn't need to be pittied. War had costs. He didn't regret anything, except for one thing.

"Everyone needs to talk. Everyone wants somebody to listen. I'm not judging."

The two men sat across from each other in a silent stalemate. The Medic he would just tell the other man so he would stop bothering him. It would almost be better that the Sniper and his enormous knife were here. He sighed and licked his lips.

"Let me have water. I need water to speak."

"Take this instead." The Demoman raised the bottle to the Medic's lips. He held the back of the Medic's head to help him swallow the burning liquid. The tenderness of the action made the liqueur taste only more bitter on his tongue.

Looking over the Demo's shoulder the Medic coughed, "It's not nearly as good as German beer"

"Before I went into this farce of a war, I vas a doctor in Germany. I learned at ze prestigious Heidelberg University.I vas studying with mein best friend Bernhard. We were both 22, young then. I vas interested in surgery vhile he was more suited to treating disease. He was a handsome man."

The Medic let himself get lost in the memories of his best friend before the Demoman prompted him. "What happened?"

"He got vhat we now call, depression. He wasn't like the rest of the medical students. He was more sensitive than the others. He started to let his marks slip. I was the top student in the classes so I tutored him. I helped his scrape by for an entire year. We were studying one night when he asked the unthinkable."

"I was working in the surgery department so I had access to the anaesthetics and pain medications. Bernhard had been stealing pain medications for the last year, but he had been moved to a different department. He asked me to steal for him. I was upset. I yelled at him, if he was caught he would be expelled and he would not get a job.

"Because he was so different, he was teased by some of the others. I saw he had cuts and bruises, but I didn't say anything. He didn't bring it up and I didn't question him. It was simple."

"We were studying late at night and he said to me, 'Andle, will you do me a favor'."

"What sort of favour?" The Demoman asked

"I told him I would do anything for him. Then he asked. He asked me, 'Will you euthanize me?'" The Medic felt his heartbeat quicken as he said those words. The words that ruined his life.

Frowning the Red Demoman tried to remember the meaning of those words.

"He asked me to kill him." The Medic choked on those words. He hadn't admitted that to anyone. Euthanize was a kinder word, it sounded pleasent. More pleasant than seeing the life drain out of a friend.

"But you didn't do that, did you?"

"I did."

"He-"

"I did it. It was easy, I gave him an overdose. I don't know why I did it. He was miserable and that was the only way I knew I could help him. So I said yes. The next day, I took a syringe, a vial, and a pair of gloves. We went up to his room and he got ready for bed. It was almost surreal.

"He was lying in his bed in his blue pyjamas. He had the most beautiful blue eyes you know, and light blond hair. I was no looked in comparison. He looked like an angel as he rolled up his sleeve so I could inject him."

"Doc-"

"Let me finish." The Medic snapped. He was lost in the memory. He continued feverishly. "He laughed when I disinfected the injection site. It was a force of habit. It was the first time he had laughed in quite some time. I asked him again once I had the needle ready. I wanted him to say no. I pleaded with him to say no.

"When I injected into his vein, he smiled at me and whispered his thanks. I kissed his forehead and he closed his eyes while I tucked the covers in around him. He was just sleeping I reassured myself. I held his hand. I held his hand the entire verdamned time! Those minutes were total agony. I could hear each breath going slower and slower."

The Medic's head throbbed, his mouth was dry but he didn't care. He couldn't wipe the tears away from his eyes, he could only let them un down his face, tracing the aged contours of his face.

"Why didn't I say no!" He was shouting now. "I could have stopped that. I willingly killed my best friend. He was vulnerable and I was there. He just needed help and I just stabbed him in ze back!" He felt his body shake, he'd never told anyone about that. Why now, in the face of death he felt it was okay to let his mouth run?

"He wasn't right in the head Doc. I think you know that." The Demoman stood up and walked around the room. "You know, I think the two of us are similar in ways."

"A sadistic doctor and a black cyclops? Please continue."

"We both need somebody to listen. We're all human. I'm red, you're blue, but we're both humans. I'm not sorry I've blown you to smithereens nearly every day, but I'm sorry you have to die like this."

The Medic fell silent. He was still going to die. With a wry smile, he turned his head to the Demoman. "Zen let me have one last drink before I go."

"With pleasure my friend."

The Medic found himself soon blindfolded. He was in the back of the Sniper's van as they rattled over the dusty road. He felt, well he didn't quite know. He felt the most afraid he'd ever been and his body throbbed and stung with every bump in the road but he also felt peaceful. His talk with the Demoman had made his feel better in a way. He just sat still as he listened to the tinny muffled sounds of the radio.

Before he was ready, he heard the van stop and the doors opened. His blindfold was tugged off and he was dragged limping out of the Sniper and the Scout were there, silhouetted against the blue and purple sky. The sun was just beginning to set and the red and brown rocks were highlighted bright red.

"Vhat a beautiful time to die."

"Augh, don't be all creepy like that man!"

"Man up Scout." The Sniper set his jaw and lead the Medic off a couple meters from the van. "Doctor, if you run I will not hesitate to shoot you in the foot and draw this out. So stay still."

"Run? With Zis leg?"

The Medic stared past the Snipers aviators defiantly. It was funny, the knowledge of certain death made him brave again. So fragile is the human mind. The Sniper and the Scout backed up so that they were by the van.

"Come on Scout we don't have all day."

Medic ignored them to look at the setting sun. It was so beautiful. Rather poetic too if he said so himself. The sunset wasn't perfect though, there were thick clouds covering the sun's rays.

"One second man, couldn't you do it? You're pretty good with head shots."

"No, I've killed dozens of men. It's time to grow up."

"One more couldn't hurt. Seriously, I don't want to do this."

"Then why'd you come."

"Because..."

"There isn't room for weaklings on this team."

"Fine then!" The Medic looked the Scout in the eye as he took out his pistol. He was trembling, inching closer and closer as if Medic were the one who had the gun. "Don't move Doc!"

The Scout put the cold metal of the gun beside the Medic's head. The Scout was shorter than the Medic so he had to raise his arm to get his gun to reach. The Sniper shouted from the van.

"Get him to kneel!"

The Scout looked behind him nervously. "Umm, if you don't mind..."

The Medic knelt, and enjoyed the reprieve on his twisted leg. He still looked up at the Scout's eyes. The Scout was in obvious torment. In a moment of mercy, the Medic whispered up at the Scout.

"It's okay Scout. You should really get zis over with."

"Shut up, I don't need your help." He was starting to hyperventilate.

"Slow your breathing down or you're going to pass out." He didn't feel anxious anymore. Just tired, it was a long day and he just needed a bit of rest.

"Don't rush me!...I'm really sorry" He whispered, not making eye contact.

The Medic paused, the Scout was sorry? He gave a wry smile, a killer asking for mercy. That was precious. Then he remembered the Demoman and how kind he was. The Red Scout was still young and the first kill was always the worst, "I forgive you."

The Sniper drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as the shot rang out. The Scout shuffled slowly towards the van, wiping his eyes on the bandages on his hands. They drove back to the base in silence, leaving the blue corpse behind them on the dusty red ground.