The Demoman took a large swig from his bottle of Scrumpy. Some of the booze glistened on the table, as they escaped from the bottle to thanks to Demo's erratic movements. He slammed the bottle down on the dull table, causing more of the drink on the table. He looked up at a BLU poster talking about the "atrocities" that RED had committed. It just was blurred haze to him, along with everything else in the room. He got up out of his chair, and stumbled to the door, having to clutch the doorframe to keep balance. He took another drink from his bottle and hastily opened the door, making a sharp, creaking noise as it slammed against the wall. He stumbled down the hall, having to hold onto other doors in the hallway to prevent himself from falling on the ground, and more importantly, breaking the glass of Scrumpy. He walked past Pyro's room and shuddered. Pyro was lowly sobbing, but to DeGroot's ears it sounded like the wail of a banshee. He continued tripping and stumbling across the building. As he neared his stockpile of weapons. He fell over, and hit the wall with an audible grunt.
"Bloody door, fuckin' murderers..." He mumbled to himself.
He got up, and opened the door next to him. There was a taped piece of paper on the door, and in a drunken scrawl read: MAH BOMBS DONT TOUCH.
The door slowly opened, and the Demoman's mouth opened, as incomprehensible sound of rage escaped from its void of blackness. In the room, were burn marks all across the walls, cracked grenades, shrapnel strewn in disarray across the floor, booze covering the ground, and the Demo's supply of explosive ingredients destroyed. This was all he had, and destroyed in a instant. He howled in anger, as he violently kicked a burnt box. He ran around like a maniac, swinging his bottle like he was trying to murder somebody. He suddenly threw it at the wall, as it shattered and added more to the small pool of alcohol on the ground. He collapsed to his knees, shards of woods and bits of glass entering his glass. He didn't even notice his bleeding hands as he stared at the ground. A low sound of footsteps broke the eerie silence.
"My god. Vat happened?" The Medic asked, as he stared at the room. His first thought was that Demoman was so drunk that he had destroyed his own equipment, but his suscpision was cut short by Demo's reply:
"IM GON' TO KILL TAH' BASTARD WHO DESTROYED MAH' BOMBS!" He yelled to the air, his eyes filled with pure hatred. Medic looked frightened by the Demo's erratic and destructive behavior.
"Demo, who did this?" He questioned softly, trying to calm him down.
"THAT BLOODEH' SPY DID THIS!" He shouted back. Suddenly, Demo shuddered. " Why couldn't dat' Spy kill meh'?" He asked softly.
Medic was now especially at unease. Is Demo...Sucidal!? He thought to himself, knowing that that would cripple the team if they lost 2 members.
"Demo...Why do you want to die?" He asked gently, slowly approaching him.
The Demo looked up, his expression full of pity and grief. "I got nothing nah'. Tha' bloody Spy destroyed everythin', nah' I got nothin'. Nothin' to live for."
"Demo, what do you mean?" He said, now squatting beside him.
" This was all Ah' had. I couldn't geh' a job anywhere but here. Who da' hell would hire a Cyclops wit' a prison record, an' who has a fascination wit' explosives? Who...?" He said slowly.
The Medic had no reply this. Demo was right, nobody in their right mind would hire him, and now even worse, he has killed more than once, but he knew he couldn't say anything, as that would just hammer the nail in the coffin. So he just patted him on the back as he looked on.