Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't.
Cheers.
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"The hills are bare noo, and Autumn leaves--"
"Mm-mpph, mmh?"
"No, lad, yeh're doin' it wrong, it's 'thick and still', nawt 'still and thick'," the Demoman corrected.
"Mm.." said the Pyro who was currently walking around with him. News of the Blu Spy's capture had broken out and they were among those who decided to make one last sweep of the base to be sure there wouldn't be any more intruders. At present they were in the hangar wing closest to what used to be the main battlefield and trying to sing Flower of Scotland though the masked man was having a bit of trouble with comprehension. The Demoman's accent didn't help much
"From theh top then, laddy!" he proclaimed as they continued up the hallway, "O Flow'ra Scawtland--"
BANG BANG BANG.
The pair paused at the sudden noise, peering toward the door it had come from. The Pyro looked as intrigued as he could while wearing a full face mask and the Demoman suspiciously took a swig from his bottle of Scrumpy.
"If yeh doon't like ma singin' yeh doon't have to listen!" he accused the door.
"Help!" came a muffled cry from inside.
They noted the door handle quivering, another series of bangs assaulting it from the other side. Looking at one another, the pair approached and tried to get the door open though it was locked soundly. The Demoman rubbed his bristly mouth with a hand and grunted thoughtfully before banging a fist on the door and declaring, "Stand back, laddeh! I'll get ya oot!"
The Pyro arched his shoulders apprehensively when the Demoman pulled his Stickybomb thrower off his back and stepped aside to aim at the door. He wasted no time in backing off and clapping his hands over his ears as the one-eyed maniac decorated all four corners of the door with sticky bombs and laid one at the door knob for good measure. It might have been a good time for someone to tell him about key cards, but the sudden explosion that followed would have only drowned out the advice.
Comically, the door rattled on its hinges, seeming unaffected before slowly tipping outward and falling flat against the hall floor.
The Scotsman laughed triumphantly and swung his gun back over his shoulder with a cheerful grin as the young Medic stumbled toward the doorway in a daze. "Thot's the way yeh do it!" he insisted, shaking his Scrumpy at the Brit who shook his head to try and clear the ringing from it as he advanced on the Demoman and gestured anxiously with his hands.
"Sir? Sir, I don't have much time to explain -- I have a patient in the hangar back there who needs help and I.. I'm not strong enough to carry him." His gaze flitted between the two men, "Could you help?"
The Demoman lifted an eyebrow, humming at the Medic whose anxiety seemed to be going through the roof with each passing moment that he did not get a reply.
"Mm-hmmph! Mm mmh!" the Pyro decided with a positive nod. He hefted his axe and started off in the direction the Medic had pointed, the Demoman shrugging and deciding to pursue.
Sighing with great relief, the Medic clasped his hands together and briefly lifted them skyward before darting off ahead of the pair to try and return to his patient. It had to have been at least an hour and a half since his initial hold-up -- hopefully he would be OK..
Things were tense in the infirmary. Almost everyone on the Red team wanted access to the Blu prisoner who had caused them so much mischief and the loss of a man's life. It took three Heavies to keep the Soldiers from barreling into the room with shotguns, Snipers working to calm down the other classes who had a good many words to fling in the Blu's direction.
The Blu Spy couldn't hear any of it.
Laying on his back, he tried to focus on anything but the head Medic digging around in his stomach with a pair of medical clamps. The mercy of painkillers prevented him from screaming though his bound wrists, ankles, and chest made it impossible to achieve any sort of real comfort. He looked at the Medic instead, tears falling freely from his eyes though he felt no sadness for the moment. Great pain tolerance? Not so much. And even with drugs running through him, he could still feel the occasional twang of pain. Clearly they'd done it on purpose.
Heal him, but not all the way.. Ugh..
The German ignored him while he worked, clearly a professional in his field with no tolerance for distraction. He could literally feel the heat of the man's hatred rolling off of him but at the same time a very firm sense of dedication to his work. The Blu was in good hands as much as it appeared to be the opposite.
Half an hour later the physician was washing his hands in the sink when a new commotion came to his door. He scowled over his shoulder, he decided to see what it was before it got here..
"C'moon Medic, pick uh yeh'r end, yeh're nawt even trying!"
"I'm trying!"
"Mm-ph mmm!" the Pyro defended as the trio from the hangar came carrying what looked like an unconscious.. Tentaspy in the room? Huh..
"Doctor, we've goot another one for yeh!" the Demoman called as he shouldered his way inside.
The Medic shook off his hands upon seeing the Spy's off-color skin tone. He recognized what was wrong and immediately grabbed a cot in order to wheel it closer to the door, "Lay him hier. Gently! Put him down slow. Pyro, fetch blankets from zhe cupboard, move!"
The Demoman and the younger Medic worked to get the frozen Blu onto the table though there was no hope of fitting the tentacles onto it -- they were simply too long!
Pushing the cot toward the center of the room, the German shoved up his glasses and placed a hand to the Spy's throat to check for a pulse. Huh.. thready, but still there. His eyes lifted to the younger Medic who was helping the Pyro to unfold the blankets that had been brought, "How long has he been zhis way?"
"A.. An hour? A little more, he was conscious then."
The German snapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, reaching for the Spy's waistcoat and pulling it and his shirt open as fast as possible. He wasted no time in pulling the sopping wet clothing off and dropping it to the floor beside him as he grabbed one end of the blanket in the other Medic's hands and hurried to drape it over the Spy's torso. The Pyro took the hint, helping to layer more blankets and tuck them accordingly while the Demoman dragged another cot over and tried to set up the tentacles on it.
As far as he was concerned, they were treating Nessie. Nessie with a facemask. As such, he would do whatever was necessary to nurse him back to health if only for the sole purpose of perpetuating the life of such a mythical creature. The weirdness of the situation? He could think about that later over a fresh bottle of Scrumpy.
When all was said and done, the four of them had covered the lifeless Tentaspy in a copious amount of wool and cotton. The head Medic had since set up an intravenous line to pump more heat into the man, the mint-eyed Brit pulling up a chair and removing his gloves so that he could sit at bedside and reach under the blankets to rub some heat into the Spy's nearest arm.
"He was supposed to follow the Blus. ..If he wakes up, maybe he can tell us where they went," he remarked quietly.
"Well I'll be damned, lads! Oy thot fehr sure he wouldn't be comin' bock!"
The Blu Spy on the bed near the wall only listened, his view of the infirmary cut off by a curtain which had been erected specifically for that purpose.
His wounds were all stitched by hand save for the one in his gut. It was the only one that had seen the use of a Medigun from that grim-faced German for it was the only one that could have killed him if left untreated. The rest of him lay sore and bleeding lazily, the stitches precise and effective those without any sort of love to them. They were the bare minimum..
Even if he weren't strapped down, he couldn't have gotten away. The thought made him sick inside, his pride coming up in the back of his mind to nag him for being captured yet again. He'd gotten cocky.. And being cocky had made him vulnerable.
..damnit.
He heard the four other men talking amongst themselves on the topic of the Tentaspy, himself, the Sniper, and even poker for a little while until he heard the Pyro and Demo bidding the Medics goodbye on their way out.
The head Medic pushed the infirmary doors closed, glancing back at the younger man who had replaced his gloves and was gathering the Spy's tattered outfit from the floor. The suit, which looked like it may have been quite expensive at one time, was incredibly blood-stained and tattered toward the bottom. No doubt those dark red marks had graced it long before that lost tentacle, the torn edges of it evidence of such.
The young man looked so determined.. so studious as he stood and bundled the wet clothing into the laundry hamper against the wall. His look of concern for the unconscious Blu did not go unmarked by the German physician.
"He is stable, you know."
The young Brit paused at bedside and looked over to find the man staring at him with a set of gently folded arms. "Oh I.. I know, thank you," he said, swallowing subtly as the other Medic approached and checked the liquid drip leading into one of the Tentaspy's arms.
"..Sir?"
"Herr Doktor," the man corrected.
"Herr Doktor.." he amended quietly, tucking the Tentaspy's blankets more snugly against his chin, "I see the Blu Spy has been captured.. Does this mean.." The German tilted his head, a neutral expression currently in place of the frown he worse everywhere else. "Is the Sniper cleared of his accusations?"
"I vhould assume as much, ja.. Dey are holding a meeting in zhe briefing room now."
"And.. him?" the minty-eyed doctor gestured to the Tentaspy.
This earned a subtle smile from the head Medic, "He hasn't killed any of us yet."
