Glowing crimson pipe bombs tumbled through the only doorway of the sniper's nest, coming to a rest in the furthest corner only to explode violently, blackening the surrounding floor and walls.

Click-chink, click-chink. The cornered demolitions expert loaded his last two sticky bombs. He brought his left hand to his forehead, chest and then right and left shoulders, and finally to his lips. He could hear the shunk, shunk of his counterpart around the corner inserting more pill-shaped bombs into his launcher. He grabbed the brown jug from his belt, uncorked it and put it to his mouth. The liquid fire sank into his stomach; his heart became steady and his vision blurred. He could easily drop out of the nest and risk a mere sprained ankle than put his life in danger, but where's the fun in that? And his RED counterpart had to be gotten rid of.

Thunk-Thunk-Thunk-Thunk

Four grenades hit the top of the doorframe and bounced onto the floor, rolling dangerously close to the shut in demoman's feet. Four consecutive explosions and his ears were filled with the deafening silence familiar to his profession.

Teeth clenched and fingers tight around his launcher, he ran out of the only doorway to face a man in a RED uniform, reaching into his belt for ammunition. 'Poor bastard,' the BLU thought as his azure spiked bombs curved through the air, one landing at his enemy's feet and the other a body's length behind him. The enemy RED's eyes widened as he reloaded his weapon and strafed from in-between the bombs.

Beep-beep! The BLU's spiked bombs detonated, the initial blast missing the intended target, but sending shrapnel into his enemy's legs. The BLU demoman unlatched his grenade launcher from his belt and held it at his side; now the RED was trapped, his back to a one-way gate that he was on the wrong side of.

Instead of firing, the RED dropped his launcher and eyed his counterpart looming ever closer.

"Come n' get me," he grinned menacingly with his hands outstretched to the sides. He was opening himself for death, and the BLU had no intention of convincing him to put up a fight.

Thunk – A single blue glowing bomb launched from the predator's gun, tumbling gracefully through the air toward its cornered RED target. What happened next the BLU wished he could have reacted to quickly enough, despite seeing the entire event playing out in slow motion, as if under water.

The RED demolitions expert raised his hand in the path of the bomb, catching the grenade while turning clockwise causing it no impact to explode upon. The RED guided the glowing explosive through a U-turn sending it in a sling shot into the legs of its owner.

_______

A large man in oil splattered overalls and a yellow hard-hat settled to rest alone on the concrete platform in the otherwise desolate rock-barren wasteland.

The sound of a latch releasing and the creaking of a door caused him to twist around, where he found the BLU Medic emerging from the trap door leading to the underground base.

"S'alright, Doc?" the Engineer asked quietly, not making eye contact.

"He iz just vine, he iz lucky to be alive." The Medic said as he brushed his white coat. "Vill you be joining us soon?"

The Engineer did not reply immediately. His gaze remained locked on a spot in the distance. Medic stood in companionable silence beside his comrade.

"S'pose so." Engineer said in a sigh a few moments later as he rose and proceeded to the trap door, lifting the rebar handle and gesturing for Medic to descent first.

Engineer followed Medic dutifully, not paying attention to where they were heading, simply following the billowing white coat ahead of him as his eyes kept toward the floor. Within minutes they were on the opposite side of the BLU underground base, standing in front of the door to the infirmary. The Medic held the door latch and turned to the Engineer, who took a deep breath and then nodded slowly.

As soon as the Infirmary door cracked open the noise of a raucous party flooded the outside hallway. Scout, Heavy, Sniper and Soldier were crowded around the Demoman who was sitting up on his gurney with his right leg in a cast, elevated by a medical crane. Each BLU held a glass containing amber liquid, the Demoman refilling them from his own large brown jug and taking a drawn out swig himself.

"Ey boyo! Join the party!" Demoman yelled to the newcomers, his speech severely slurred.

Medic shook his head as if trying to wake up from a dream, "Vhat do you zhink you are doingk?!"

Heavy stumbled away from the crowd, carrying two sloshing drinks that spilt on his uniform with every uneven step. With a wide grin he handed the Engineer a half-filled glass while tipping his own into his mouth.

"Ve have a mission in ze early morning und you schweinehunds are thinning your blood and poisoning vhat brains you have left!" the irate doctor snatched the empty glass from Heavy and smashed it on the floor, his eyes glinting maliciously. The party silenced; all eyes were on Medic. Heavy swayed and blinked slowly, grasping thin air where his glass once was and looking confused.

"We're just givin' him a good time, he almost snuffed it a day ago, c'mon Doc, lighten up," Scout was the first to speak from the quieted crowd.

"Get out. Get. Out." Medic ran his fingers over the trigger of his Blusauger still latched onto his belt as he eyed Scout not unlike an enemy.

A moment later, with much protest from the drunken Demoman, the remainder of the BLU team quietly shuffled out of the door leaving their glasses scattered over the infirmary equipment. Realizing what must come next, Demoman tipped the jug into his mouth and gulped down as much precious alcohol he could swallow before Medic came to take it away. To his surprise, it was the Engineer who made the first move. Walking over with wrench in hand, Engineer swung at the upturned jug, shattering it and showering amber liquid over the Demoman.

"The hell you think you're doin'! You risk your damn life to save an expendable sentry and get nearly blown to gibs, and make us haul what's left o' your sorry be-hind back to base! Medic spent hours stitchin' you back to recognizable pieces and as soon as he leaves to tell me you ain't dead or paralyzed like we thought, you're partying it up, like it's some great good time!"

Demoman stared with his one good eye, trying to figure out his comrade.

"I been in worse mate, this ain't nothin' compared to gettin' a face full'a shrapnel," Demoman whispered dangerously, pointing angrily to his liquor soaked eye patch.

Engineer grabbed a fist full of the front of Demoman's blue infirmary shirt. "You listen here and you listen well. I don't give a rat's ass about whatever blown up mess you've gotten yourself into in the past. Don't you go riskin' the lives of this team by gettin' yourself fit for a soup can and leavin' us to die. I ain't done it, Scout ain't done it and you best be damn sure that Medic here ain't done it neither. Stay outta them cornered up situations and don't go bein' brass tryin' to take on all them REDs yourself. And if ya do land yourself in the infirmary again, don't treat it like its some kinda holiday, 'cause it ain't for us."

Without giving him time to retort, Engineer pushed Demoman into the hospital bed and marched out of the room without looking back. Uneasy silence filled the infirmary. Medic closed the door behind Engineer and quietly collected the drink glasses, then swept up the shattered jug around the Demoman's gurney, not making eye contact with his patient. He fully agreed with Engineer, it was careless of their only demolitions expert to put such little importance on his life. He could have been responsible for more than just his own death by being so stupid. He wondered why Scout, Heavy, Sniper and Soldier hadn't come to the same realization.

Caught in his own thoughts while he picked out pieces of glass from the hospital bed, he felt his patient quickly shudder and then again lay still. Thinking nothing of it, Medic continued diligently gathering the glass, then removing the soaked wrappings from the uncasted portion of the Demoman's upper leg. It took a few moments for Medic to quiet his internal voice shouting insults in full agreement with Engineer, to realize his patient had covered his face with his hands, and, what was this? What was he doing?

"Are you crying?" Medic said incredulously, the meticulously collected glass shards in his gloved hands nearly slipping away.

"I haven't got a damn thing ta live for."

Medic stared at his comrade, unable to process what was happening and how he should react. He was a medical doctor, not a shrink. He knew how to mend bodies and even better how to destroy them, but when it came to comforting anything other than his own malicious desires, he was as good of a resource as Heavy was with ballet dancing.

Medic shook himself and realized he'd let most of the glass he'd picked up dropped carelessly onto the floor. He discarded what he held into a basket labeled "BIOHAZARD" in bold print, and retrieved a dustpan and broom to get the rest. He made a mental note to forget that he'd seen the Demoman break down, he was strong and would get over it. Yes, he'd be back on the battlefield in one more day, he'd rather him fight without anything to lose than come to a stupid realization that he had something to live for, and not put his full effort into the capture. But wait, wasn't carelessness on his part what got him here in the first place?

Thoroughly confused and distracted, Medic set down the dustpan and broom and nudged Demoman, who had stopped tearing up and was now staring into the dimmed surgeon's lamp above him with a blank expression.

"Vhat are you getting at?" Medic asked roughly. Demoman did not reply.

"Vhy are you being so strange? Iz it zhat you are in pain?" Again, not a sound.

He had absolutely no idea what to do. He'd only ever seen one of his team mates cry. Spy had threatened to turn on him if he'd told anyone, rationalizing that it was a heartbreaking film that had touched him deeply and berated him for criticizing his passion. All he'd learned that it was a movie called Mata Hari, a film he'd never seen himself. He asked Engineer about it he explained it involved exotic dancers and a steamy plot involving a spy. Engineer was very clear that he had not cried, and went on to say that he had never cried a day in his life and Spy was more of a yellow-bellied gutless coward than he'd previously imagined.

This was far more akward; Demoman wasn't crying because of a film.

What was important to Demoman? He really had no idea. He knew he liked explosives, haggis and hard liquor… Could he be so upset about losing his moonshine? Was that even reasonable to think he would be crying over spilt liquor?

Medic considered this, and hoped Engineer knew something about making alcohol, because he knew nothing. Medic found it unnerving to be uneducated about anything, whether it be his practice or his team.

The Doctor glanced at the clock, it was nearly ten and he hadn't yet managed to clean his weapons in preparation for tomorrow's battle.

"I cannot give you any morphine vhile you are still drunk. Vill you be able to sleep through ze pain?"

Demoman replied sullenly without making eye contact, "Aye."

Medic nodded. "I vill lock ze door. Use ze alarm if you need me."

The patient acknowledged this with a languid wave, saying nothing. Medic turned off all of the lights except for his own desk lamp, giving the room a muted yellow glow. He locked the door behind him and began his way to the common area, hoping he might find Engineer.