DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A WORK OF FAN-FICTION NOTHING MORE. TEAM FORTRESS 2 BELONGS TO VALVE CORPORATION.
Names: (Story was started on 29 November 2010, not all characters have been named hence the need to come up with own names)
Spy: Andre
Heavy: Sokov
Sniper: Nigel Mundy (recent Team Fortress 2 update)
Soldier: Jane Doe (as stated in Team Fortress Wiki)
Medic: Landric Metzger
Demoman: Tavish DeGroot (as stated in Team Fortress Wiki)
Engineer: Dell Conagher (as stated in Team Fortress Wiki)
Pyro: Pyro
Scout: Dillan
OC: Toskia Van der Meer
BOOSTER
CHAPTER 14
A Team Fortress 2 Fan-fic
"Och, and I've be'en shaggin' yer wife!" taunted the Red Demoman, holding up a broken bottle over his head, under his foot was Landric's broken chest, his white coat was frayed, burnt and singed black.
Landric stared up through his broken and bloody glasses at the Red Demoman, and breathed in defeat, "Ja... I know."
The broken bottle came down onto and into his face, and then down another time, again and again, shards of glass cutting and then getting wedged into his skin and bone. Through flashes of pain and blurred vision within his fragmented mind's eye he relived the scene. In which he came home, on leave. Thrilled and joyful that he could see his wife again after so many months. He eagerly called out to her in his native German. "Honig, honig! Habe ich nach Hause komme jetzt..."
It was already eleven 'o clock in the night. She was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was asleep in the bedroom. When he opened the door he dropped his briefcase at what he saw.
Only when he had gone back to the Blue base which was empty since everyone had gone home for leave, did he access his emotions. He coughed at first, and then the tears started rolling down his cheeks at the betrayal and broken trust.
A few days later he divorced his wife. He should have known she would have done something like that to him. She used to be loose, but after she met him she promised she would change. She lied.
Through his heartbreak, he felt a twinge of insecurity. Maybe he was not able to satisfy her in bed, maybe he was not enough for her. Then heartbreak turned to anger, she did not defend herself, she did not try to mend whatever was left. Then it dawned on him, she did not love him anymore, it was just that she did not tell him.
•••••••••••••••••
"Betreuer, betreuer... Oh you're crying... You're having a bad dream..." came her alto voice into his ear.
Landric blinked and held her hands which were on the sides of his face. "Mein gott..."
They kissed softly. Was this make-believe? What was he doing with his patient, would he be hurt again?
She said quietly into his ear, "What was the dream about?"
"It happened a few years ago..." he replied in the black dark, feeling her warm body against his as they nestled together in his small bunk. He felt for her hand and clasped it in his for comfort.
As he told her, he felt her move and lay on top of him. She stroked his forehead to soothe him and make the bitter pain go away. Sleepy, the two fell back into slumber.
Early in the morning Landric rose first, and was pleased to wake up with Toskia next to him. His body naturally feeling stiff and cold from sleep, he snuggled closer to her and stroked her face with his finger to wake her up.
••••••••••••••
It was in the midst of battle during high noon. The Red and Blue fought each other beneath the hot, blinding light of the sun in the desert.
At the side of the building, Toskia scaled upwards with Nigel clinging onto her shoulders. She stopped, and steadied herself, nodding to Nigel who aimed with his sniper rifle.
After he had fired a few shots she moved again, lest their position be found out.
"The point should be ours..." she said, pulling herself and Nigel up onto the roof. "Managed to head-shot anyone?"
"I got the opposing Pyro and Scout." was his reply. He was reloading his weapon, the back of his vest was wet. His sweat had seeped right through.
Toskia wiped the sweat out of her eyes and flexed her tired shoulders. She looked far to where the point they were supposed to capture was. The rest of their team mates were already there.
Nigel was on one knee, looking through his scope for the enemy sniper. He could not find him... Suddenly the vision of his scope became cloudy. "What the-"
Pulling his scope away he saw in the distance creamy white smoke fogging the area. He mumbled, "Is the enemy Pyro's flamethrower malfunctioning?" He then suddenly recalled that that could not be the case, since he shot the Red Pyro but a few moments before, he could not respawn that fast.
"No... I think that is gas." Replied Toskia, squinting in the sun with her hand over eyes, shielding her blue eyes from the glare of the sun. "The Red team has gotten their own tactical class member."
"Wha' the... that's not fair. Is that even allowed?" Nigel said, squinting into the scope of his gun.
"New member for the tactical class." Replied Toskia. "Has to be."
The two on the sizzling roof heard blood curdling screams, and knew that it was their own team mates being felled.
"Ah piss." said Nigel. He looked through his gun scope again immediately after he saw a small sparkle in the distance. It was the reflection of the enemy Sniper's gun. Nigel gunned him down.
Toskia pulled from Nigel's pocket his binoculars and scanned the area with them. This new team member of the tactical class was there, predictably in a fume mask, but much different from the Pyro. The mask covered only the face, and on his body were so many types of grenades. Flash grenades. Smoke bombs. Tear gas. All for cover.
"D' ya see the new yobbo?"
"Yes. The new yobbo is a woman." she replied. She recognised the "man" that was there. This was not part BEACON's plan, she was not supposed to join the Red team! What was going on?
"Excellent it means I can get a shot." The Sniper held her hand, disguising his lingering affection for her, and led her to the other side of the roof. He took his gun and looked through its scope steadying himself on his knee.
Toskia watched with apprehension as he pulled the trigger and as he whispered, "You've got a forehead on ya' like a coffee table."
•••••••••••••
"Gentlemen and lady." said Andre. It was right after the nightly ceasefire had started. The team sat in the canteen, waiting for their dinner to be served. Andre continued, "We need to come up with some new tactics to counter the Red's new class."
"Darlin' do you know when might all of ya'll tactical class people'l be comin' in?" asked Dell, removing his dark welding goggles.
Toskia was sitting at a table, with her hands flat on it, gazing blankly off into the distance. Her expression did not alter as she slowly shook her head statically.
"You didn't know this was gonna' happen did' cha?" asked Dell.
"No." Toskia replied.
Sokov slowly looked up from his mini gun sitting upon his lap and asked slowly, "Does Toskia know about rest of tactical division?"
"I don't." Was her reply, as she put her hands on her head one moment.
The Heavy sighed and said, "But fight goes on. New Red member is good. Nerve gas hurt worse than bee sting, and then I die."
Landric recalled how Pyro had tried to save the both of them, by air blasting away the canisters spewing out the gas. Pyro, was the only one immune to it.
Sokov had already keeled over dead, and Landric was a few feet away choking and twitching. Death via nerve gas was not nice. Fortunately the enemy did not seem to have very many of those, she was using them sparingly.
Nigel held both his hands up as his food was laid before him. "I'm just glad the day's over mates. We can just chow down, and plan how to counter them."
"Ah thought I was dr'ounk or waste'd more' n usual mates. Fla'ash grenae'de go't tae me." Tavish muttered, his one good eye wide and staring as he recalled what had happened earlier in the afternoon.
Dell shuddered. His welding goggles protected him from the flash, and so he saw everything that happened. Tavish yelled that he was "bloody blind" and swaggered about screaming shooting his grenades about randomly, destroying his sentry guns and a dispenser.
Well they could adapt, in time they would figure out this new class's weaknesses, who should run after her, and who should run from her.
That night's dinner it was mushroom soup, macaroni and cheese with baked potatoes.
Landric watched as everyone ate, it was odd because Dillan was not boasting or making a spectacle of himself. The effects of the tear gas was still upon the boy, he sat there rubbing his red eyes and coughed softly while he ate.
He smiled when Toskia sat next to him to eat, and she affectionately squeezed his thigh under the table with her warm palm.
She seemed to be thinking and distracted, her ice blue eyes were staring straight ahead into nothing. Maybe the new enemy disturbed her.
The Medic blushed and called her name. "Toskia?" His heart beat faster at the thought of inviting her to his room for a shower and later a warm cuddle.
"Yes?" she asked, turning one moment to look into his grey eyes and smile momentarily at him.
Landric hesitated, and then said under his breath, "vould you come later to see me tonight?"
"I'll be late..." she warned, after squeezing his thigh once more in affirmation at his invitation.
•••••••••••
In the Red Base the new team member sat in the canteen staring at her team mates. She was sure that she was supposed to be in the Blue team. Was there a mix-up?
Her name was "Phoung Ly." She was a medium-built Vietnamese, with black eyes that slanted slightly fitting well with her tan complexion. Quietly she ate her bland meal and observed. Her black hair was of medium length, a typically accepted length for military operations. She would have to send a letter to BEACON and ask what on Earth was going on.
She was very unsure, and it probably showed. It was a good thing that she was able to pass it off as shyness and being unused to a new daunting environment.
The information she was given was that the Red members would look oddly identical to the Blue's. The reason was not stated, she was trained to follow orders, and by nature she was not the sort to be curious and ask questions. But this was all wrong. All wrong.
The Medic was not German, he was Chinese. The Heavy was an African, not the supposed Russian. The Demoman was drunk all the time, but he was a white Irish man. The rest fit mostly. Mostly.
She spoke casually to her team members, about the day's events while half her mind lingered upon what to do. She had not seen Toskia anywhere, not even on the battle field. She could not ask for her either, or she would blow her cover. Perhaps Toskia was not here yet? If she was on the Blue team she was doing a very good job at remaining hidden.
Her suspicions were confirmed when she overheard her team members talking about the fact that she was here for balance since the Blue team got a new team member.
Ly got up after she had enough of her meal, and went to her drab and empty quarters to think. She looked out the window, the sky was overcast and it was getting dark bringing the night with it. There sitting on the horizon of the desert was the Blue base.
The room still smelt slightly of stale air and of being unused for a long time.
There had been a mistake. Now she had to decide what to do. She picked up a flash grenade and idly spun it on her table, yet her mind working fast and focused.
It would be unwise to do anything rash. She tried to calm herself by closing her eyes and taking deep breaths while wearing a frown.
•••••••••••••••••••
In her room Toskia wrote and sealed a letter she had addressed to a "Mr. Renfield."
After doing so, she dropped it into the base mail box and then made her way to see Landric.
She would eventually have to try and find Ly to speak in private and plan how to work around this mix-up. Bloody hell, she would have to wait two weeks for the damned letter to get here. The fighting, dying and stress was beginning to get to her. Hopefully she would be able to make it out of this hell sane and in one piece mentally.
She recalled her Betreuer as someone calmer. But in battle he behaved differently. He would go into into a different state of mind, like anyone engrossed in a certain activity yes. But he did not used to be sadistic and maniacal. Masochistic even.
She had included in the letter she just wrote, her observations in the change of character of Dr. Metzger, and asked for instruction whether or not he was still useful.
That day, she saw him fighting while she scaled the side of a building with Andre. Sokov had been blown into pieces of meat and cloth textiles by the enemy Demoman, Landric was a few feet away. The light of the sun made the scene obvious and glaring, impossible to ignore or miss.
Her Medic was sliding against the wall, bloody, and punched with numerous bullet holes. She could just hear him laugh and say, "Ha ha Oktoberfest!"
He continued to wear that rape face even as the enemy Pyro stepped over with his fire axe, to cleave his body open, chopping through bone and muscle and allow his living organs to splatter out from his red and white double-breasted coat and abdomen.
Toskia closed her blue eyes as she knocked on Landric's door.
When the door opened she saw her dear Betreuer standing there with a soft smile on his face, and with one of his white doves sitting on his shoulder.
"Toskia, vhat's wrong, your face is pale." He held her hand. He had already removed his stifling light blue rubber gloves.
He led her into his room and watched her movement. She did not look like herself. She did not resist when he hugged her and led her to his bunk. Worried, he whispered, "Toskia, tell me what is wrong?"
"I don't know." she intoned, twisting her shoulders uncomfortably.
"Vhat's happened?" He laid aside his round glasses, so that he could nuzzle his face against hers. "Are you fallingk sick?"
"Have you changed much Landric... are you a different person now?"
"My core is the same. But I am breaking Toskia... It is like I have two sides of myself now... With my drugs I cope, it helps me forget and not think... But I am happy that I have you now. You calm me..."
Landric cradled Toskia feeling her against his chest, as they breathed softly taking what comfort they could have to forget. Landric liked to believe himself as a psycho killer, but he was not. Taking up this job was foolhardy. He could take experiments, patients dying on him. But not the noise and gunfire and heat of battle, he never got used to the fear and excitement of war. He was a doctor and scientist, not a warrior.
At times he could behave like he was crazy and loved every bit of it. But that was not really him, he was scaring himself that he was starting to actually believe in his own lies.
"Do you want me to take you away from here?" asked Toskia silently.
"Yes... I do." Landric blinked and stroked the top of her blond head which was resting on his collar. "In what way...?" Did she mean by state of mind with erotic pleasure, or literally?
"Take you away from this bloody place."
"How?"
"Away from this base and fighting."
His fingers gripped her firm body tighter. "... how?" he repeated, his eyes closed in concentration, trying not to be distracted with her so close.
She pushed her face against his neck, with her lips moving against his bare skin. "Do you want me to? Say it."
His heart thumped. "Yes. I do." he whispered firmly.
"Come with me to BEACON."
••••••••••••••••••
End of Chapter 14
Sorry that it took so long to update friends! I was having some block but I'm in the flow again.