Chapter 3: Clones And Threats
Notes: Criticism is allowed!
There was something seriously wrong here if the team left without telling them, especially this abruptly and on such short notice. They'd at least leave a note, or have at least one person stay behind to inform them that they were leaving.
They didn't have anywhere to go today; there wasn't a lack of food, considering they had enough supplies to cook Heavy's supper. And no one ever left the base without some reason, like doing some outside work for the Administrator and-or Ms. Pauling.
On the rare chance the entire team ever left the base of their own accord, it would be to celebrate a victory or to cheer up one of the mercs after a particularly bad day. They wouldn't leave without any of them; they were never apart, so Scout became increasingly concerned when Medic insisted there were no notes.
"What if they just went out without telling ye?" Scout overheard Demoman say to Medic.
Scout detected doubt in his words and assumed that it was related to the earlier incident, but he wasn't concerned at the moment and focused on finding clues about where the team went, scouring the living room and kitchen.
He wasn't exactly the most intelligent member of the team, nowhere close to Heavy, Medic, Spy, Engineer… okay, so pretty much everyone's intelligence, but he had to at least try to find some clues for what happened.
"They could've just forgotten ta tell you two."
"No." Medic responded immediately, Scout simultaneously saying. "They wouldn't do that."
"I doubt you all know each other well enough to know that."
Scout rummaged through the kitchen, discovering that the stove had been left on, nearly burning the food, with some plates flipped over and the contents spilled on the table and ground. Every sign pointed to the fact that they all left abruptly; chairs were flipped or shoved to the side, the tables were off centre, papers scattered across the ground, and with utensils and plates carelessly laying about.
Engineer would have a fit over the wasted food and shattered plates, which only added to his increasing worries. The one and only time something became this much of a mess, Engineer was having a bad day, and even then, he had attempted to limit and control the chaos to his workshop.
"We know each other." Medic replied sharply.
"You know them, or do they know you?" Demoman inquired.
Medic refused to speak, and Scout pinched his lips. He was growing frustrated with the RED Demoman. Sure, he was willing to give back his pa's head, but he wasn't much help at the moment besides making accusations.
Well, Scout was being unfair if he were to place that much blame on him. It was a reasonable assumption and reaction, given that the team rarely displayed "familial affection," as Soldier described it, on the field.
When in battle, they were coworkers, not friends who consoled each other when they were at their lowest, planned dinner together, joked with each other, or discussed their favourite comic books or activities. They weren't friends who taught each other things; brothers in arms, willing to go through torture for each other.
When they were on the field, they had to suppress their familial feelings so that the Administrator wouldn't notice, so Ms. Pauling didn't realise and report back to the Administrator, or the RED team wouldn't hold it against them or, again, tattle on them.
"It's bullshite," he heard Demoman say to Engineer while they were sitting in the living room, playing poker. Pyro was laid across Engineer's lap, reading a comic, while Spy was sitting in the back, reading a newspaper. The team looked at him curiously. "The Administrator forces nine guys to live with each other and expects them to not grow a bond."
"The RED's not grown close." Heavy countered.
"That is because they're wussies who won't talk to each other! They keep to themselves and do not communicate with each other." Soldier responded.
Sniper hummed. "What we're like to each other is risky. The Administrator banned friendship, and we all know what happens when there's friendship between two people."
The entire room went silent, and they refused to look at the still Soldier.
Following the incident with Soldier, the Administrator restricted their movements and warned them that if they showed any signs of friendship, they'd be fired. Despite that warning, the team remained as close as ever. They had no one else but themselves. It would be stupid to push away the only people they had, no matter how hard the more emotionally constipated ones tried—Sniper, Spy, and, more surprisingly, Engineer.
"Doc, are ya sure they didn't say anything?" Scout asked, looking at Medic with widening eyes. "What if it's just an emergency?"
He shook his head. "They wouldn't leave without a note."
"I know, I know, but what if they forgot?"
"Heavy and Sniper forgetting?"
Scout bit his lip, a type of queasiness forming in his gut. He had a bad feeling, and he hated that he had a bad feeling. Something happened to them, but he hated not knowing what happened to them.
"Maybe? What if it was really urgent? That'd explain…" he waved to the mess. "This."
"That's likely, but we would have been told by Ms. Pauling."
Scout noticed Demoman hiding the lower half of his face with his hand pensively, muttering to himself and slowly shaking his head when incoherent conclusions were made. His eye was closed, and his brows furrowed.
Then, speaking lowly, "Can ye just… check the other rooms?"
Medic frowned. "That'd be impossible. Besides, I've already checked every possible location-"
Demoman's scowl cut him off. "Check again."
"They aren't hiding from us."
"Check. Again."
"Doc," Scout interrupted the argument before it could escalate, Medic turning his gaze towards him in silent inquiry. "Look, doc, I trust that ya looked, but I gotta check."
He looked at him, exasperated, replying. "They aren't here, junge."
"And I trust you. But I hafta look."
"Scout-"
Scout hurried away without turning back or hearing Medic's response, the doors bursting open as he passed through. He needed to make sure they were alright.
Even if Medic pursued the kid, he wouldn't be able to catch up with him. However, this didn't lessen the frustration that had built up. Not at Scout, but towards the RED Demoman for suggesting the idea.
He wasn't inept with detail, and he knew Scout wouldn't discover them, no matter how hard he tried. Having Scout look was merely a waste of time.
There were clothes rustling behind him, and he turned to face the RED.
He'd heard about Demoman from Soldier, and while he didn't learn much about him from him, he knew Demoman had betrayed his trust. REDs in general weren't trustworthy. Soldier should have listened to him the first time he warned him.
"Why are you here?" Medic asked abruptly, fully leaning towards Demoman with a smoothed-out expression.
The Scottish man looked anywhere besides his face, Medic knowing full well he was uneased by his apatheticness. He's had time to master an aloof image that didn't betray any emotion or weakness, and while his team could tell what he was feeling at the moment, anyone else wouldn't have such an easy time.
"Aren't ye a doc?" Demoman retorted instead. "Got me a gammy arm, and yer Scout took pity on me."
"Why are you here?" Medic repeated.
"Hard to say-"
"Then think of an answer."
The corner of his lips curled further down into a frown. "I'll only say when yer Scout gets back."
For several minutes, the two maintained a strained silence.
He was unsure of why Demoman was still in their base and hadn't returned to his own. There'd be no reason to play the waiting game like he did. In fact, Demoman wasn't the type to play the waiting game in the first place, unlike Spy or Heavy. He doubts he'll get an answer from the man. Or at least a straight one if his going around his basic question was any clue.
Still, he tried for an answer once more. "Why are you here?"
"Ye already asked that, and I told you, Scout took pity on me."
"I will ask again-"
"Quit askin' me!"
He'll just force an answer out of him, then.
Medic merely examined the now-rigid man, seeking for any signs of weakness that he could exploit.
He wasn't as experienced as the rest of the mercs in hand-to-hand combat, but he could give someone a run for their money, and with Demoman as injured as he was, there'd be no disputing who was more physically fit at the current moment.
He returned his eyes to the kitchen area, looking for something sharp, and when he couldn't find what he was searching for, he gazed at the broken shards of plate spread on the table.
Demoman stood in front of them, bent forward, with one arm covering the other. Blood seeped through his fingers, and Medic figured the injury was a deep gash that must've weakened his arm strength.
Seconds passed, then minutes. The clock on the wall being the only present noise with its ticking.
Then for a second—a split second, costly decision—Demoman turned his gaze away from Medic to look at the door where Scout left through.
Idiot.
Medic reeled his arm back and threw his fist with enough force to snap the RED's head back.
Demoman gasped in alarm, staggering back and bashing the lower half of his body against a chair, causing him to stumble and lose balance.
Medic then pounced for the largest plate shard he could locate and quickly snaked around Demoman, his right arm sliding beneath the other man's uninjured arm and clutching his torso in a tight hug, while his left arm wrapped around his shoulders to his neck.
Demoman strained in his hold, uselessly thrashing his damaged arm in an attempt to resist Medic, but the doctor merely pulled his wrist away, as if his strength was nothing. It pretty much was, given that his shoves and pulls were lacking in strength to begin with.
"What're ya doing?!" He exclaimed.
"Do you vant to know vhat the best vay to slice a neck is?" Medic asked, his accent peering through his voice as he felt Demoman thickly swallow. "You slice at an angle. Like zis—"
He tilted the long, sharp point of the shard at a downward angle, towards the jugular of his neck.
"Then, vhen you cut the internal jugular vein," he applied pressure to the region. "You move down to the heart."
Medic slid the sharp tip of the shard down to his heart, gripping the makeshift blade tightly as the jagged glass sliced into his fingers, causing blood to prickle. Though he ignored the sensation and continued with his morbid demonstration.
"And zhen you stab to make sure the person truly dies."
Demoman's breathing was laboured, and as Medic predicted, his damaged arm was nearly useless, jerking sporadically but not attempting to shove Medic away, too injured to properly articulate or take any action against him.
"I heard zis is not a pretty way to go."
They remained in that position with no words exchanged until the doctor hummed quietly.
"Now, you vill tell me vhy you are here." Medic murmured against his ear. "And you vill tell me vhat you know about my team's disappearance."
Demoman barked out a laugh. "What makes ye think am scared o' you? I can just respawn, you know."
"Yet you haven't." He pointed out.
The Scottish man tensed, and he realised he was correct in his theory that he didn't want to respawn for whatever reason. If he wanted to respawn, he wouldn't be hanging about waiting for Scout to return, especially with an injury like his. In fact, he would have retreated to his base at the first sign of danger. But he hadn't.
"You vill answer my questions, alvight?"
"Ye sound like my medic."
His grip tightened around his neck, a prominent frown in his expression. "I am not him."
"Aye, I can tell." Demoman's voice had a coltish tone, but there was a level of wariness beneath it. "He'd just kill me if he were in yer position."
Medic fell silent and methodically lifted the shard up to his neck, feeling Demo's Adam's apple bob. In a deep voice, he asked. "Vhy vere you setting off those explosions?"
"You wouldn't believe me."
He applied pressure to his jugular.
"Aye, fine, but don't blow a gasket when you don't believe me: we were fighting something."
He remained silent and let him speak.
"It battered me lads up. Had to fight tooth 'n nail to barely get away." He practically spat the words out, feeling the beginnings of him tremble. "Dunno who else got away, but I don't want to end up back there. That thing, I don't know what that thing is, but it's not… normal."
"Don't be vague."
"I'm tryin' my best ta explain, ye daft bastard. But I can't."
Blood began to spot in the point where he was pressing the makeshift blade into, and he heard Demoman muffle a whimper.
"I can't explain, it's hard to explain. I don't- what do you want me to tell you?"
"Your team. Vhat happened to them?"
"It- it did somethin'. It was-" the man began laughing hysterically. "I dunno. It just- one second, we were all fine and dandy, then the next, half me team was gone."
"Nobody disappears just like that."
"Bloody hell—nae, they didn't disappear. They-" he broke out into a fit of desperate chuckles. "Ah dunno what it did. But it didn't teleport 'em or kill 'em, that's for sure."
"Vhat is it?"
"A feckin' monster."
Medic wrinkled his brow with frustration. Then he pushed the shard farther into Demoman's neck. "I don't know why I'm interrogating a drunk." He murmured to himself as his embrace tightened around the man's torso.
He was about to slice deeper into Demoman's neck when the drunk began squirming in his arms, crying out brief breaths and pleading with him to listen to him.
"I ain't lyin'! Ye gotta believe me! Look, we'll both go lookin' fer it when yer Scout gets back, alright? But I ain't lyin'! That thing's a beast, a feckin' monster, best way I can explain it- just- I don't know how to explain it any better than that! There's no explaining it. Am not drunk or crazy or whatever you think I am! I saw it- it did something! Just listen and don't lemme die! I don't want to die!"
Medic paused at the desperation in his voice, and Demoman immediately took advantage of the momentarily halted movement.
"Look, I promised the kid that I'd give yer spy back. You lads want yer Spy back, right? I'll get yer Spy back."
His mouth became dry, as if cotton had filled it, and he slightly pulled the blade back in disbelief. Return Spy? He then tightened his fingers around the blade further, pushing it back up to the other man's neck and feeling him huff breathlessly.
"I don't believe you."
"Better believe it. He's back in our base, stuffed inside a fridge. I can go get 'im so long as you listen to what I hafta say."
"You promise you vill return our Spy?" Medic questioned, voice quiet and unsure, disbelieving that he would do that.
"I will."
Medic paused and thought for a second. If Demoman was lying or if he was just being a drunk, he wouldn't be this coherent or desperate to not die, he especially wouldn't be promising to return their Spy.
After a minute passed, he finally released his grip. Demoman staggered forward, practically arching over as he held his throat with a grimace. Then he looked back at Medic with uncertainty, as if seeing him in a new light.
"If you're lying, I will not hesitate to kill you. Understood?"
"Crystal."
"Gut," said Medic, gesturing to the chair next to himself. "Take a seat. We'll be waiting a while for Scout to return."
"Goodie."
"And who's fault is that?" He retorted. "I was not the one to suggest checking again."
"You'll be thankin' me if he finds yer teammates."
"I'm not incompetent. I know where to look, and I still didn't find them."
"Pray that you were incompetent today, then." He shook his head, lips squeezed into a thin line, and his gaze lowered in contemplation. "'Cause ya wouldn't like the other option."
Scout wasn't sure why he was so anxious to find them, but that same dread wouldn't leave him, no matter how hard he tried to swallow it.
Scout sprinted through the halls, feet slapping against the concrete, as he swung open every door he saw, uncaring for them, slamming against the wall and potentially damaging the hinges.
The entire base itself took around 40 minutes to go through if he were to travel at a light jog, but considering he was desperately looking for his team, the time was shortened by 15 minutes.
The building was designed to be a maze in case anyone found it after they left the base. Going through the building would prevent any "urban explorers" from searching deep and discovering something they shouldn't. This also served to prevent the RED team from infiltrating.
However, this meant that the BLU team's more rash members would get lost if they didn't map out the building beforehand. Even with Scout scouting the entire base out and drawing a map for the team, they still kept getting lost. Scout didn't even know they had rooftop access until 2 months in the base.
And when all the RED team was doing was heading straight to the intelligence without mapping any other locations out, the problem got so bad that Ms. Pauling conceded and gave them maps.
RED Spy tried to narrow down every location, but try as he might, with a team as unserious as his was, no one gave a shit. Though Scout gave him points for trying.
Which was why he was so anxious about finding the team. The team could be on the other side of the building, and he wouldn't know until one of them spoke on the speaker, telling him to come back to the kitchen, living room, or wherever they all were. He probably wouldn't even find them until the morning or the next day's battle.
He checked the armoury, the showers, the kitchen, the storage, the rooftop, everywhere he could think that they would be. But no matter where he looked, he couldn't find them.
No one just ups and vanishes like that.
Well, maybe the team, considering they all had experience going off the grid, but nothing like this.
They weren't-
They couldn't have been attacked.
Could they?
His conversation with Demoman earlier flicked through his head, the implications wrong in every conceivable way possible.
"If it captures ye, you won't die."
What did he mean by that? What was it? What scared him, RED Demoman, so badly that he'd take his chances with them rather than whatever spooked him? That he wouldn't want to respawn and back in his own base, healed and ready to battle again? What stopped him from fighting to just wanting to survive?
Did whatever happened to the RED team also happen to his team?
He hasn't checked the dorms yet. He can't make any hasty decisions.
Scout made his way to the dorms on the second floor, far to the right of the base, and looked at the nameplates on the doors—Heavy being the first he saw—before aggressively pounding on the door.
"Heavy!" He yelled through pants. "Don't be naked when I come in!"
He viciously ripped the door open, peering into the dark room and quickly flipping the light on. They had an unspoken rule about not entering each other's dorms without express permission, but he feels this time was an exception. He'll apologise to them later for this, anyway.
When he didn't see Heavy in the room, he went to Soldier's room, where he gagged at the foul stench that hit him instantly. 'What the hell, Soldier? Clean up your room!' Scout thought to himself. When Soldier wasn't in his room, he began descending the hall, opening each door with slightly more desperation than the previous time.
Spy's room was the only one he didn't enter; he didn't want to intrude on his pa's privacy.
When he got to his own room, he opened it to see if anyone was in there, but there was still no trace of them.
"This prank ain't cool, guys," Scout muttered, looking left and right down the hall. "Haha, funny, come on out now!"
No answer.
Something was just so wrong with today.
Scout bit the bottom of his lip, chewing the inside. There was no way this related to what Demoman was talking about. No way. He was just drunk and obviously out of it. The RED team only began fighting because someone started an argument. There was…
"Ye ain't listening to me!" Demoman barked, having finally lost his temper. "We won't have a job with that thing around."
Nuh-uh. Nope. He wasn't listening to that drunkard's ramblings. Demoman, his Demoman, quit drinking 3 years ago besides the occasional beer. RED Demoman hadn't. In fact, he heard Demoman's blood stream became literal alcohol. So, no. No way was he going to listen to him.
He pivoted on his heel and made his way back to where he had left the other two, his sneakers squeaking against the floor and the stomping of his heels echoing through the hallway.
The hallway was strangely silent without the echoing noises of his teammates' voices. They were so loud that anyone within a 20-foot radius could hear them, even if several concrete walls separated them. Without their noise, the building appeared deserted.
That was… a scary thought.
The building being abandoned.
It wasn't like they hadn't been in abandoned buildings before; hell, they had abandoned all of their bases after packing up and moving on to the next one. But this one being abandoned didn't feel right. Everyone's belongings remained propped up, clothes neatly folded or shoved in their proper places, beds tangled, and weapons on display. Traces of them having existed.
When they moved to their next base, they always detonated the building's armoury and dorms to leave no trace of themselves. They never left anything behind for a stranger to find and trace it back to them.
So it didn't feel right for there to be no trace of his team, but a trace of their existence in their rooms.
He scrunched his nose. He really didn't want to check there.
But what if they were there?
Scout paused momentarily in the hall, scrunching his eyes shut. Then, slowly, he let out a sigh through his nose.
Even if they weren't there, he needed to check if he was still there.
He started making his way to the freezer.
The freezer door opened with a creak, and he cautiously stepped inside, his breath visible in the frigid air. Meat hung from the hooks. There were organs in jars he couldn't identify or discern the origins of, and boxes lined the shelves. The fan above the door whirred, producing only white noise.
The room was colder than it should be, but he pushed through. He needed to check if he was still alright.
"Hey," Scout called out into the freezer, tentatively touching the icy feeling curtain and pushing it aside that caused his fingers to curl in themselves. Holy shit, that curtain's cold. "I mean, knock-knock. I know you don't like me entering without announcing myself."
Spy lay on his back in the centre of the room, with his arms at his sides and his legs forming a v-shape, to prevent his body from becoming crooked once they're able to unthaw him.
There was a blanket over his top half, though Scout could tell there was no head where it should be.
Scout wished it was easy to just respawn him, but the doc said they couldn't just shoot his head if they ever found him. He didn't know how the respawn worked, but they had to stitch his head back onto his body because otherwise, the coding in the respawn machine could screw up the system and cause him to respawn as only a head.
According to Engineer, if that were to happen, programming him back to normal would be nearly impossible without a few glitches and errors. And Scout really didn't want to carry around a bodiless Spy as much as he liked the man.
"Hey, pa." He began, unable to focus on the headless body. "I was just, uh, checking on you."
"Thank you for checking in on me, mon fil. No, he wouldn't say that. Check in on me? You? Please, you'll check on me when I want you too." Scout tried for an impersonation of him, and he thought his impression was pretty spot on despite the lack of a French accent. "Yeah, I know, best spy and all. But I just wanted to check. The entire team's gone right now. Just poof, gone, and I was…"
"Worried?"
"No? What? Psh. I'm not worried. You guys are strong. Why would ya need me to worry?" He chuckled nervously and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"There's nothing wrong with worrying."
"Yeah…" He frowned before grinning once more. "I was just wondering if you knew where they were."
"Have you checked the dorms?"
Scout hummed and nodded, the cold of the freezer seeping into his bones. "Yeah, we checked everywhere. Me and Medic, I mean. Medic shot himself when he was hit in the head with a garbage bag, so he actually got to the base and found out they were missing before me."
"He was hit in the head with a garbage bag?"
"Yeah, it was pretty funny stuff." He chuckled and instantly brightened. "Oh, right! I set a record for base scouting! Ignoring the entire team is missing thing. It usually takes about 40 minutes if I skip the top floor and dorms. 50 if I check everything. This time, it only took ten minutes! But that's because I was rushin' 'round searching for everyone."
"You usually skip scouting those areas out?"
"What? No." Scout winced at the unintentional admission. "Ah crap, I hope you don't actually hear what I'm saying."
"Mon fil, I hear everything- and… what am I doin'?" He cut himself off and frowned, scuffing his foot against the ground.
Scout was suddenly hit with reality as he stared at Spy's motionless, headless body.
Quiet lingered in the air in a mourning-like manner, which was stupid because Spy wasn't actually dead. He was still alive and somewhere in RED's base, bodiless but alive, but Scout only saw a body in front of him. He felt as if his dad had died.
He and his pa didn't get along initially; they were constantly at each other's throats over something. Whether it was because Scout annoyed him, and likewise for Spy, taunting and making hurtful jabs. They didn't hate each other; they just got on each other's nerves, and Spy was always patient with him, despite his old frivolous demeanour.
The fact that Spy was so patient with him, giving him advice, and making sure he was okay in general should've been his first sign that Spy was his pa, but he was so deep in denial that he'd rather admit that Tom Jones was his dad before he even considered Spy was his pops.
After much trial and error, Scout and Spy's numerous breakdowns, and conceiving to the idea that they're just clones and that their pasts didn't matter, they finally admitted that they genuinely did see each other as family.
Scout and Spy both needed someone to care for, and despite the fact that they weren't actually family, they became family to each other. For each other.
Only after this did the team begin displaying minor acts of care for one another. Spy suspected that he and Scout getting along paved the way for the rest of the team to see each other as more than just cloned coworkers.
Because of this, the team became more… cooperative. They could work better together. Coordinate better plans than just improvising when battling.
As a result, Spy improved as a spy.
Who knew that the man who had never dated Jeremy's ma, who had no family other than Scout, who could communicate his feelings properly, and who could let go of his worries that his family would be killed, could become an even better spy than his real counterpart?
What was it that Engineer told him? 'A man who has nothing to lose is more terrifying than a man who has everything to lose?' That sounds about right.
Spy shouldn't be lying here, stationary and unresponsive, with God knows what else was happening to him in the RED's base. Where was his tough pa? Where was the snarky and caring Spy who called them idiots whenever they did something stupid and showed Scout how to do a stupid knife flip trick?
"You always said you were the better spy. And, yeah, I ain't gonna lie, you are," Scout sniffed, wiping away the first traces of wetness in his eyes while whispering. Softer than he spoke in a long while. "Wish you were here, pops; you woulda solved everything instantly."
If Spy were still here, he'd locate their teammates, get information out of Demoman, and figure out what happened to the RED team all in one hour. But he wasn't. There was only Medic, and a shaken RED Demoman.
"This is stupid." He muttered. He quickly rubbed his face with rough, cold palms.
Okay, no crying right now.
The team is gone, leaving only Medic, who didn't know what happened to them either, and he still needs to speak to Demoman. Once he talks to Demoman, he'll probably get his pa's head back. After that, Spy will know what to do.
"I'll get ya back, alright? Just hafta wait a little longer."
Scout turned away from Spy's body and marched out of the freezer.
He'll get his pa back. One way or another.
The door opened with a resounding thud, and Medic and Demo straightened.
"Oh, thank god." Demoman muttered.
"Scout, what are you doing back?"
He furrowed his brows in incredulity towards Medic. "Daft bastard, ya wanted him gone for longer?"
"It takes 40 minutes to go through the base, not 25."
"Say it nicer than that then! The wean looks like he's been through it!"
Though the kid didn't seem offended. His face was warped with disappointment, his cheeks red and his skin pale, beads of sweat rolling off him. "I couldn't find them." He responded instead, lumbering towards them dis-heartedly.
Medic hummed, disinterested. "I told you that you wouldn't find them, didn't I?"
Scout pursed his upper lip, pinching his brows together and scrunching his face.
"Don't make that face- junge."
He stared pathetically at the ground. Like a sad dog. Or rather, a sad dove. Bunny? That seemed like a more likely comparison.
Medic grimaced, looking everywhere but Scout, before cringing away when he heard a slight sniffle. After a second of Scout looking miserable, he sighed through his nose. He awkwardly approached Scout and patted his shoulder, or pretended to tap it, despite the fact that his hand was only hovering above his shoulder blade.
"There, there…"
"You're horrible at this," Demoman stated.
"Yes, well, the comforting is normally Spy's job." He answered. "But your team kidnapped him, so now it's been my job to "comfort" him."
Demoman almost looked aghast at that sentence, and Medic looked at Demo with a quirked brow. Was there something wrong with what he said?
"Spy?"
"Yes, Spy."
"Spy?"
"Ja."
"Spy?!"
"Don't be vague."
"I'm not being vague in my reaction, lad, just... Spy?" He looked almost disgusted at the thought. "The same egotistical spy who would leave us to rot because we mocked his tiny gun? Who'd sit on a throne in a purple robe and jewelled crown, hon-hon-hon'ing at us and forcin' us to praise him? That Spy?"
Medic could admit that Spy was an arschloch that first year, and he was especially someone they wouldn't trust to comfort them. Or trust with their lives, for that matter. However, people change, and Spy became less prissy. Having the idea of being a clone reinforced in his head daily would do that.
Though he didn't like Demoman's attitude towards their spy. Medic scowled, but swiftly schooled his expression a second later. He was showing too much emotion around this man. "Did you just finally figure out that we're different people?"
"Aye, I knew you were different, but it's Spy." Demo looked distraught at the revelation, holding his head. "I need that scrumpy right about now."
"You need to tell us what you know." Scout stepped in, pulling up a chair that moaned against the ground, flipping it so the back faced Demo, and sitting on it with his arms resting over the ledge. "You promised us information for Spy."
Demo looked at him, perplexed. "You pulled yourself together quick, lad."
"Medics terrible at comforting people, but it's the thought that counts." Scout replied, then scowled and stared at Demoman. "Speak. Now."
Silence prevailed, and the three stared at each other.
Demoman leaned against the chair, hand still holding his wound, and he scrunched his face.
"What do you want to know?" He quietly asked.
"Start from the beginning." Scout said.
Just as Demoman opened his mouth to answer, there was a flicker of static; instinct took over, and the three stared at the bunny-eared TV screen hung up in the corner of the room.
Ms. Pauling appeared, looking more frazzled than they'd ever seen her, as she glanced off screen and at something else.
"This is Ms. Pauling; who's all there with you?"
"Oh, come on!" Scout suddenly exclaimed with a slight growl. Ms. Pauling stared in alarm with Demoman looking at him, surprised. "Why do you guys always interrupt at the worst times? Seriously, gotta always leave me on a cliffhanger."
"Scout, this is serious." She said, frowning. "I don't have time to get sidetracked."
"You're sidetracking us!" He accused.
Ms. Pauling bristled. "I'm sidetracking you?"
"Yeah." Scout glared at her. "Our entire team is gone and Demoman, RED Demoman, was about to give us more information than you ever would've in the last hour."
Medic knew Ms. Pauling and Scout never had a close relationship. It wasn't for a lack of trying, but Ms. Pauling never tried to get along with him.
Scout flirted with her for the first year, but she never reciprocated, bluntly rejecting him. It was on and off like that for a couple of months. He'd flirt, and she'd reject him.
Then, one day, when he stayed behind to flirt with her alone, something happened, and they've hated each other ever since. He didn't know what happened between the two, and he never asked out of courtesy. Scout wouldn't tell him anyway, even if he ever asked.
He saw as Demoman looked between Scout and Ms. Pauling, taken aback by the animosity.
"Aye, lassie, y'alright?" He asked, cutting into their growing argument. "I dunno what's happenin' between you two, but we don't have time for this."
Ms. Pauling huffed, miffed. "You're right. We don't. And I'm fine."
She looked away from the screen and tucked her loose hair behind her ear, focused on something off screen as faint clicks and buzzing from camera feeds were heard.
"Did Demoman say anything about what happened?"
"Only that something attacked his team and might've attacked ours." Answered Medic.
Ms. Pauling nodded. "Yeah, something did attack them. But…" She then trailed off, her expression pensive.
"Oh, don't tell me you're being vague, too." Scout rolled his eyes as he exasperatedly said.
"I'm surprised you know what the word 'vague' means." Ms. Pauling mouthed, Scout flipping her off.
"I'm tired of this back-and-forth. Tell us everything. Now." Demanded Medic.
Ms. Pauling pressed her lips into a thin line.
"The… thing. it's hard to say. I'm not a biologist. But it's… it's…" Ms Pauling made hand gestures in the air, as if trying to shape out the outline of the monster, as her frown began to deepen. "It's unnatural? Physics shouldn't let it exist, but it does, and…"
She sighed. "Look, I don't know what that thing is, but the Administrator is demanding you do something about it."
"Do something?!" Demoman stated in alarm, rolling his eyes and flippantly waving his arms. "Lemme shoot my grenades at it! That worked last time!"
"Be grateful she's giving you time to work this out."
"You know what'll happen to us if it captures us!"
She roughly sighed through her nose again, looking sombre. "Give them a proper burial, Demoman."
Demoman paused at the words and lowered his tense shoulders, staring at the ground with a distant gaze.
'Give them a proper burial, Demoman.'
Medic wondered what those words meant.
"Whatever happened to them, we can figure out a way to fix this," Medic said.
Ms. Pauling looked reluctant. "I don't know if you can. It's… I… I'm going to be blunt; I don't trust your ability to fix this."
"Huh? Why's that?" Scout asked, looking at her with bafflement.
"It's because he isn't…" She trailed off.
She wasn't confident in his abilities. Why? Was it because he didn't do immoral experiments on his teammates like RED Medic? Because he wasn't off putting baboon lungs in Heavy or implanting a chimp's brain into Scout's head? Because he wasn't the "actual" Medic?
He wasn't him. He was himself. But that still wasn't good enough for her. Because to her, he was just a fake. A cheap copy of Medic.
He smothered the scowl that threatened to form on his face, an ugly anger writhing in his chest. Despite being in close quarters with them, having practically worked with them, Ms. Pauling remained sceptical of his abilities.
Fine.
"I'm a clone of RED Medic, Frau Pauling. I know vhat I'm doing."
Medic despised himself for saying so; he despised having to conform to being a clone of RED Medic; the words were almost like acid on his tongue, and he pushed himself just to get the words out, emphasising his accent and grinning madly.
Scout whipped his head around to look at him with worry and shock, while Demoman pinched his brows in surprise.
Ms. Pauling finally relented. "You are Medic, after all."
Medic's grin almost cracked. Keyword: almost.
"Ja." He didn't want to say anything more than that.
"If you can-"
"When." Medic interjected sternly.
"When you figure something out, get back to me as soon as you can."
Demoman nodded. "Aye, will you be checking in?"
"Unfortunately, no, there's too much to do. Figure it out, but if you guys don't figure out how to get rid of that thing, you're fired." Ms. Pauling looked solemn, pinching her lips into a frown.
"Before you leave," Medic called out, Ms. Pauling halting and looking at him. "What shut off the water?"
She shook her head in an unsure manner. "I'm not sure, I'm still trying to figure that out. I'll get back to you when I can."
"Couldn't've been a ghost." Scout muttered.
She sighed through her nose aggressively. "Over and out."
Just before the screen flicked off, she muttered. "I really hope you can save them."
Silence descended between the three as the static of the screen buzzed off.
Medic hated himself for having to say he was a clone. He wasn't, in any way, shape or form, Medic. He's done everything to disassociate with him, got rid of his accent and name, and has tried everything in his power to be a reliable doctor and not Ludwig Humboldt.
That still wasn't enough. Even now, when it mattered most.
Scout was the first to break the tense air.
"Doc, you know it's alright to be a clone-"
Medic stood up unexpectedly, glaring at Scout, who leaned back and winced. He watched as any consolation he had for the older man withered. Then he slowly approached the double doors. He'll get information from Demoman in the medical ward. It would be best to heal him if they were going to fight a monster.
"Come. We've got work to do."
Notes:
No more edging. The monster will be revealed in the next chapter!
Oh man a lot of stuff happened the last 5 days while writing this. There was a heat wave and my house doesn't have air conditioning, so I was just sweating and being burned alive by the sunbeams through my window. Then the internet was cut off. So while the internet was off, I replayed TF2! Good news, I'm still a soldier main. Bad news, I'm completely shit now and I'm at level 0 again.
But hey, at least there's no more bots!
Back to the main topic: sorry for dragging this out, I meant to reveal the monster in this chapter, but then I realised that just telling you guys what happened wouldn't be as effective as showing. So expect a spooky~ monster next chapter! Ooh~
Tumblr: blog/boredgrace23-gracepotts