Chapter 11: Clones And Their Truth
Notes: Criticism is allowed.
"You're too prideful, doc." Scout would usually say. It was hypocritical of him to say, but he wasn't going to argue otherwise, because he was right. In a way, he was too prideful.
He supposed it was a trait of his that came from spending too much time with Scout. Though he wasn't embarrassed to admit that he likes spending time with Scout.
He had stopped spending as much time with Heavy, so the only people on the team he considered being the closest with were Scout and Spy. Spy because they understood each other well, and Scout because somehow, someway, he wormed himself into Medic's tight little bubble. After consistently fighting him off until he couldn't, he became a common presence for him and a friend he'd come to trust.
There weren't many times that Medic ever felt weak, maybe in battle a couple of times, considering he was always the primary target. But he never felt vulnerable enough that he became depressed over it. Or at least, he tried not to acknowledge that part of himself, instead opting to be apathetic.
Medic liked to think he was in control, that he was stronger than he actually was. It was pitiful that he was a control freak, but it was all he knew when having to cope with difficult situations. He needed to be in control to understand what he was doing.
It was also a strange trait of his, considering he usually liked being in the background of things, letting others take the reign while he sat back and watched. He was never the leader type.
Ironic hypocrisy, maybe? He wasn't sure.
There were a lot of things that Medic wasn't sure about. He tried hard to push the agenda of being his own person onto the BLU team, and yet he only came across as delusional, a crazy bastard, a daft bastard, and an emotionless, insane man.
But that's what they all thought, that's what everyone wanted to think. They didn't want to accept his truth, and that falls on them. Medic would always stick to his guns and say that his truth was the real truth.
The truth being that they weren't clones. They were human.
And yet, the doubt around those words began to sink in. He wasn't sure who he was anymore.
He was still too prideful to admit that maybe he truly was a clone. That all along, he was like Humboldt Ludwig. What a disgusting fate that was. To truly be Humboldt. Because then he would have to admit that he wasn't human anymore. That he didn't have a soul or an afterlife like Demoman had said.
Was he sadistic like him? He tried not to be. Was he spiteful? No, or at least he thought not, but apparently he was if he wanted to kill Scout for just telling his truth to him. The truth being that he was a clone.
That he was Humboldt Ludwig.
Medic tried to tell them that they weren't clones of the RED team, and while some played along, he knew that they all knew they thought he was simply in denial.
Maybe they were the truly crazy ones? The ones who were truly in denial? He was the doctor, not them. He knew what he was talking about. Why couldn't they have just believed him? Wouldn't it have been easier to accept his truth? But they bowed down to the idea of being clones, because it was easier to accept that than not being clones.
Because not being clones meant they were stolen from their previous lives. That's what they wanted to deny, right?
But it was never that easy for him, was it? Because despite that, even now, after being told time and again that he was a clone, he didn't want to say or think the words that he was a clone. Because that meant defeat. Because that meant admitting they were right. But they weren't. They were all wrong.
Humboldts' memories were still in the back of his mind, taunting him, whispering to him to accept that what everyone was saying was true.
Was it pathetic of him to want to keep denying the hurt and betrayal and pain that came with not being a true human anymore?
But he was still a human.
…right?
"I'm not a clone…" Medic weakly spat out, his chest heaving as he stared up at the shocked man through swollen eyes. The words hadn't come easy like they always did, doubt and firmness clashing against one another. He was speaking more to himself than Demo at this point. "I'm human…"
It was deplorable that he felt the burning sensation in his eyes, tears welling in them from both pain and hurt. He wasn't a clone. He didn't want to be a clone. Not of Humboldt.
"Ya aren't human." Demo said, except there wasn't that venom present in his tone from before. He sounded as if he didn't believe his own words.
"I just… want to live my life. I don't… want this… anymore. I…" Medic licked his lips and gasped, biting back the urge to curl into himself. "I'm human. I'm human. I'm not a clone."
Demo didn't respond.
"I'm…" He trailed off, inhaling longingly as he looked up at the grey ceiling.
He was surrounded by cement walls, feeling as if everything was closing in on him. He felt claustrophobic suddenly, and all he wanted to do was run.
Denial, denial, denial.
But he wasn't in denial. He wasn't. Because being in denial meant he had to be in denial in the first place, and he wasn't.
Why won't anyone believe him?
Medic attempted to straighten, but as he did, he felt his elbows give way under him, and he fell backward with a hard slam. He gritted his teeth at the pain, and eventually, he rolled onto his stomach, only to realise he didn't have the strength to sit up.
A mourning-like emotion filled him, clenching his teeth to hold back the tears that threatened to spill out of him. He felt pathetic, vulnerable, and delusional.
He wasn't a clone. He was a human.
And yet his will to deny that was only getting weaker.
Demo didn't bother giving him an answer, instead choosing to sit down next to him as if his strings were cut. He stared at him, his expression remorseful as it was pitiful. He didn't want him staring at him like that.
They both stayed like that as Medic willed sobs away, silence filling the space.
He wasn't sure how much time passed with them like that.
He only felt pathetic and helpless.
Eventually, there was the buzz of the luminescent lights from above them, and they were brought back to the present.
"Sorry, Medic." Demoman's voice was low as he muttered. He heard the rustle of clothes and looked over at the Scot, who was rubbing his face sluggishly. "I'm sorry, alright?"
Medic wasn't sure what he was apologising for. He wanted him to walk away and leave him alone, and let those monsters capture him. He felt too weak to argue back with him, though.
"We're a feckin' mess." Demo said sardonically, wryly chuckling. "Can't even have a proper conversation with Soldier, of all people."
Medic remained mute.
"Can't do a goddamn thing right. Murdered me parents, can't even be a proper demoman for me mum. Just a fecking cyclops, too, and I'm gonna lose me other eye in a few years' time if I don't get my act together. According to some stupid tradition, 'good demomen lose both their eyes by thirty.' Bloody daft tradition it is, but it is what it is."
He sighed and took his hat off, revealing a gash on his forehead. Dried blood crusted off, and while there was still some leakage from the wound, not as much that he would die from blood loss.
"Can't even let a few mean words go…"
Medic wasn't sure if he was referring to their argument just then, or if he was referring to something else. He didn't ask.
"Check out the pair of us, still in our damn pyjamas and not even wearin' our uniforms for this supposed "job"." There was a moment when he quietly inquired. "And where the hell did ya get that shirt, anyway? Don't go blabbin' to the others, but it suits ya, mate. Looks comfy on ya."
Medic gave him a long, fixed stare before gazing listlessly back at the wall. A minute went by, and he muttered. "Soldier. My uniform became too tattered after the battle."
He had borrowed the shirt from Soldier from one of the boxes in the hallways after Scout went to take a shower. He had completely forgotten they were supposed to relocate to the next base the following week. There were a lot of smaller details he forgot from 13 hours ago. Scout was supposed to reset his alarm because he woke up late, and they were supposed to eat Heavy's food after he and Scout got back.
Which reminded him, Scout still needed to take another shower. Practically everyone needed to take a shower after this day's events. What a strange thing to be fixed on, that a shower was more important at the current moment than the monster.
Demo turned away from him to look at his feet.
"Y'know, ya don't have to keep denying bein' a clone. Ya ain't a monster for it."
He felt constricted suddenly.
"I'm not a clone." He stated firmly.
"Doc-"
Medic pinched his brows and stared at the wall with hatred and betrayal.
He bit his lip and curled further in himself, not saying anything in response.
He wasn't a clone.
He was a human.
"Get Herr Heavy." Was all he said.
He felt Demoman's eyes on him but heard as he stood up, footsteps echoing too loudly in the halls.
Then there was the methodical creak of the med-bay door, followed by chatter that became incohesive over the increasing ringing in his ears.
He wasn't a clone.
Heavy's heart dropped when he heard the banging and yelling in the hallway, seeing both Scout and Sniper freeze as well. They stared at the door, eyes blown wide in shock and dread.
The monsters were relentless. He knew that from having been chased around the base for six hours. It was ridiculous to assume he was safe here in the Medical bay. But he had hoped the monsters wouldn't have found them this early yet.
Heavy could outrun the monsters for as long as he had by using tactics Sniper had taught him, and adding his strength with that, punching through the flimsier walls and windows wasn't an arduous task.
He glanced at the wall that led to what he assumed was another room, then to the wall where the windows were. He wouldn't say he wasn't capable of punching a hole through a thicker wall, but since the walls in this base were made of concrete, he'd have a more difficult time, not to mention he would need the Medi-gun to continuously heal him in case he ripped a tendon in his wrists and hands, or if he broke a couple fingers of his.
This goes without saying that he was also in the Med-bay; he doubts he would have an easier time punching through the walls here. Since their bosses were under the impression they were much like their original counterparts, the walls were designed to be more firm to save expenses from having to rebuild. RED Medic usually conducted experiments that involved the exploding of something or something having a violent outburst.
They could fight back, or ward it off long enough to escape, but as he cast a quick glance at the two men, he realised all three of them weren't in position to fight. Scout was incapacitated, having only one arm, Sniper didn't have any weapons on him that weren't in Heavy, and Heavy's fists could only do so much against those monsters. He was also still trying to regain his energy from continuously moving for the last six hours, with only 20 minutes' worth of a break.
If he were with anybody else, he would've left them behind, but Medic was out in the hallways. He couldn't escape without him. He especially didn't want RED Scout being caught. With the monsters being capable of using their skill sets, if Scout were caught, being able to outrun him was next to impossible.
Heavy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying and failing to come up with a solution.
It was only when Scout made the first move that Heavy was brought out of his thoughts.
Scout shifted his jaw and reluctantly, he took a step towards the door.
"What're you doin'?!" Sniper whispered frantically.
"It's quiet." Scout answered.
"Don't mean it's safe to walk out there!"
Scout sneered. "I don't see you doing anything!"
"'Cause I'm not tryna be killed, mate!"
Scout didn't deem him an answer, taking more steps, slower than the previous, towards the door. Just as he reached the door, he peered through the small, translucent window and waited.
"What's out there?" Sniper inquired.
Scout shrugged. "Dunno, there's three- wait, no, just two people outside. I think it's BLU doc and Demo, they're just sittin' there. Wait a minute… oh crap. Holy shit! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! Somethin' is comin' towards the door! It's comin' in our direction!"
Sniper and Heavy followed the startled Scout's motion as he took a few quick steps back, almost hopping in their direction. They shoved against the wall, and Heavy had to push Sniper away from him so he wouldn't pull the kukri from his abdomen. Yes, they were in a desperate situation, but he wasn't going to bleed out and die here. Not yet, at least.
Hearts thumping, the three fixed their gazes on the door. One moment, followed by another.
With a steady creak, the door opened, revealing Demoman, his shoulders bent with strain and his expression full of stress lines. He didn't try to hide his remorse as he cast a regretful glance at the three.
"What…?" Demo questioned them, his pinched brows further creasing in confusion. The four of them continued to stare at one another, the pounding in his chest subsiding, when the Scot slowly shook his head. "I'm not gonna question it. Do ye know how to use the Medi-gun, lad?"
He questioned Heavy. Heavy looked at him, clearly perplexed. He tried discerning why he was asking when he realised Medic wasn't with him.
His nerves got the better of him, and he stepped past him and into the corridor, where Medic lay on the ground, twisted away from him. He bolted toward the German clone, his eyes widening with shock and horror.
He slid his palm to his neck and felt a weak pulse, carefully slipping his arms beneath him in order to lift him gently. He heard him moan at the abrupt movement, so he adjusted him so that he wasn't disturbing his wounds.
"Doktor, are you alright?" Heavy asked worriedly. He hoped he didn't die.
Medic's face was swollen, ugly bruises blemishing on his pale skin, with freshly formed cuts on his cheeks. His nose looked to be broken as well. There were a few seconds that passed when he heard another low groan.
"Just let me die…" Medic muttered, voice gravelly and thick with shame. "I'll return."
"I refuse." He replied.
If he died, then he would end up back in the same area that he had just escaped from, and if he were to attempt to make his way back to the medic-bay, then he would lead the monsters right back to them. If not, run into them on his way here. He wasn't as close to the doctor, but he still considered him a confidant when it came down to it.
"You are doktor, I will help heal you."
"Don't."
He quirked a brow.
"I don't need your help."
"I know."
A quiet gasp caught his attention just as he started back toward the medical ward, gazing down to find Medic's glossy stare fixed on the wall. He appeared lifeless, akin to a porcelain doll. He hoped he didn't die till they were secure; it would be both inconvenient and dangerous for him to be alone in the halls like Scout was.
"Doktor?" He asked in a quiet tone.
Thickly swallowing, Medic's voice was significantly lower than usual. "Is it true?"
"What is?"
"That I'm…" He moved his jaw, and Heavy saw the sheen in his eyes—as though he was trying not to cry. As he asked, Heavy pretended not to hear the croak in his voice and his pained expression. "That we're not human?"
Heavy froze.
"Am I… not real, anymore?"
He let the silence linger in the air. There was never a moment that Heavy ever contemplated those words, and if he did, it was usually in the company of another person. Sniper, to be exact. He didn't like thinking about their situation often.
They've all come to terms with the fact that, aside from Spy, Medic, and, shockingly, Soldier, they were clones.
Medic was far too deep in his lie that they weren't clones. He was shocked that he had ever admitted the words. Out of all of them, he would have guessed that Scout would be the one in denial, and yet, it was Medic. Medic, the one they had to trust with their life in his hands, was the one who was running from the truth.
He could never blame him. He was his friend as much as he was kin, even if they weren't close.
"Yes, we are not real, if that is what you are asking about our cloning."
He wasn't going to feed his delusion, though, even if he did think of him as a friend. If he was at this point, not anymore. Medic never displayed vulnerability, even before they were cloned from what he remembers from RED Heavy's memories.
"You're the same…" He murmured before leaning against him exhaustedly.
He wasn't sure what those words meant, but he felt as if he failed an invisible test.
Heavy carried him back to the room, hearing Sniper ask just as he re-entered. "What the hell happened?" His eyes darted to Medic's limp figure in his arms, staring perplexed before looking back when Demoman made a weird noise in his throat.
"We got into a fight," Demo answered lamely.
"The fuck kinda fight ends like that?" Asked Scout, baffled.
Demo waved frustratedly in an attempt to stave him from any more questions. "You ain't exactly one to talk, what with you always gettin' into scraps over the stupidest of reasons."
"Yeah but-"
"Can it, you wee bloody brat."
Scout rolled his eyes, though Heavy espied him staring at Medic with wide eyes, and even if he tried to hide it, he could see the tension in his shoulders dissipating upon the sight of him lax. He froze when he noticed Heavy's gaze on him, frowning with pinched brows as he showed his teeth in a cringing expression.
"Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but we, uh, kinda need the creepy bastard patched up. I know he's a pain in the ass, and personally, I couldn't care less what happens to him. But fact is, he's the only damn medic we got, and we're pretty screwed if he's outta commission." Scout said.
Heavy grunted in reply. He was already aware of that fact.
After a moment, he looked back at the Medic cradled in his arms. "Doktor, are you still okay?"
A moment passed before he jerkily nodded slowly, gritting his teeth and grunting slightly. The Russian clone nodded, straightening him up and delicately setting him on the bed that Scout had been in before.
"Do you know where the nearest medkit is?" He asked.
"The cabinet in the bottom left drawer in the far back…" Medic then gasped sharply and uttered a brief curse in German, clutching his cheek in pain.
Ignoring the conversation the three REDs were having behind him, Heavy nodded and headed for the cabinet. He nearly ripped the drawer's hinges off, carelessly shoving papers,documents, and miniature boxes aside as he reached further inside.
He tapped the back of the cabinet, unable to see what he was feeling, when a smooth, cylinder texture bumped into his fingers. He pulled back out when he finally grasped the item, rushing to the doctor's side immediately.
"This medkit is not enough, but it will do for now." There was the pop of the bottle as he spoke, the bitter medicine filling his nose with its pungent scent. "Do you need help?"
Without responding, Medic reached out and grasped the bottle from him with a rough grip. He clenched his teeth and sat up, Heavy's fingers twitching to support him while allowing him to stand on his own. He knew that he wouldn't be able to help him even if he tried, and since they weren't close, he wasn't going to push it.
Heavy didn't have as close of a relationship with him as the RED Heavy and Medic. He arguably had a closer bond with Sniper than any of his other teammates. It wasn't that he refused to build a relationship with them;He saw them as brothers in arms. But the one person he didn't truly get along with was Medic.
Medic didn't want to be close to him after learning that RED Medic was close to RED Heavy. And he understood. After learning of that, too, he didn't want a close relationship either. They got along well enough and knew to respect each other's boundaries; they also worked well together, and Heavy could place his life in his hands as the German could his, but he wouldn't be seen sharing a drink with him anytime either.
Still, there were moments between them that made Heavy question if there was something deeper than his own discomfort. Whenever he tried reaching out to give advice, he would immediately shut him down, not out of hatred or disgust or even pride, but more out of disconcert and puzzlement. Knowing that didn't sadden him as much as it should have.
He saw Medic cough as he drank the medkit; the welts evaporating, albeit not completely. The Medic became more animated when he was healed enough, slowly sipping it with a disgusted tilt on his lips.
"Are there more medkit?" Heavy inquired.
"Not here, but there should be some in my room." He answered mildly.
Heavy peered back to the three RED'S whose conversation died down in favour of looking at the two of them. Demoman was surprisingly guilty, while Sniper and Scout were merely curious.
"I see. We will get some, then." He replied.
He then noticed Medic's eyes gaze down to the knife wound, and exasperation replaced his relieved expression. He sighed through his nose and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking down, muttering something incohesive beneath his breath, before he looked back up at the knife sticking out of Heavy's abdomen.
"Not a few hours out of my sight, and you managed to get a wound. Next der Junge will come back with a missing member." He said sternly, exasperated, waving to the spot next to him and holding the remaining medkit out to him. "Sit, Herr Heavy."
"No, you will heal."
Medic pulled the medkit back and straightened himself. "Have it your way."
While he would normally let Medic speak on his own accord, the German being stubborn with anything out of his control; he needed to know why that fight began.
"Why did you and the Demo fight?" Heavy asked bluntly.
If he had to guess, Medic said something that angered the Scottish man. He wasn't the empathetic kind, and considering the situation they were all in, he had to guess that Demo wasn't exactly in the mood for mean or blunt words. They were also all strung up from thisattack. He was surprised they hadn't tried killing each other earlier, unless they had and weren't mentioning it.
"Nothing that has to do with you." Medic replied.
"Doktor-"
Medic peered up at him with a narrowed gaze, silently challenging him to continue. He could see the three REDs from the corner of his eyes tense. It made sense why they were surprised by his and Medic's relationship. They weren't close like the RED team's Heavy and Medic were.
They both stared at each other before Heavy once again relented. He wasn't going to win in an argument with him.
He decided to change the topic. "Then why is Medi-gun dismantled?"
"I was trying to rework it so that it worked for the REDs too." Medic shifted in the bed and groaned, Heavy miffed but saying nothing in response. He'll have Scout force him to relax when they find him. "But I'll need the other Medic's Medi-gun for it to be properly functioning."
"Are you getting it, then?"
"That's the goal, yes."
"We will figure something out eventually," Heavy answered.
The conversation died, and the five remained silent, Medic sipping the medicine until it was gone, all the while staring at the knife still sticking out of Heavy. There wasn't much Medic could at the moment for it, though. He knew that as much as the Medic knew that. And he knew the doctor was only becoming antsy at not being able to get rid of it.
He was surprised at just how easily he could tell what Medic was feeling. It was difficult in the beginning when he slowly began shutting down, muting his emotions to the point it was physically present. It was still difficult to tell, even now. Heavy was lucky to read people as well as he could, or else he wouldn't know what Medic was feeling.
He felt a mixture of envy and pity for him; he envied his ability to brush his troubles aside and felt sorry for him for being so deeply in denial. Mikhail was forced to acknowledge his problems; Heavy was the same. Even if he didn't want to acknowledge a problem, he had to.
Heavy recalled all of Mikhail's memories, even the ones he couldn't recall well.
Initially, that was how each clone's memories were configured. Every memory that the original possessed, even those that had faded with time or were forgotten, was transferred into the clone. Both the pleasant and the painful ones.
They could recall every last detail of their originals' lives. Of course, as time went on and he worked at this company, they also began to fade with time. However, the memories were much more clear compared to their originals.
When Mikhail was a toddler, too young to remember much, he recalled holding his sister's hands, the tiny fingers feeling chilly against his palm. He recalled the day he and his family had fled and discovered the cabin hidden in a corner of Russia—the day Miss Pauling had found them; her face flushed with the cold air of the below-temperature weather—and when she had offered the job to him, the amount of money he'd earn from it left everyone in disbelief.
They were still clear, as if it had happened yesterday, even if there were a few chunks that faded.
He even remembered the day the RED team came up with the idea of cloning themselves.
There were only a few members reluctant, including Mikhail, but they all came around to the idea after they became bored with only having to fight a few people at a time.
At first, the battles involved only the nine original mercs, and the fights were auto-balanced on several occasions when they lacked balance. Sometimes, some weren't allowed to participate in battle at all, having to be forced in the sidelines until later in the day or even next week.
It hadn't taken Medic nor Engineer long to figure out how to make the clones, even if they wouldn't say how.
After they announced that they figured out a way, two weeks later, the first clone was made.
It was the Medic.
There were some trial and errors, and sometimes, Mikhail wondered if it was a bad idea.
There was even an incident where the Medic clone escaped, battered and desperate with his eyes missing, speaking in desperate German with an odd dialect only to die on the spot from a brain haemorrhage.
Half the team voiced their concerns with the idea after seeing the Medic clone die how he did, since if they died that easily, they wouldn't provide enough of a challenge when in the field.
Eventually, Engineer and Medic figured out a way to make the clones more durable. Even if there are some issues such as them dying in the cold.
Following the entire BLU team, Heavy was the last clone to be made.
It was an odd experience to be Mikhail one second, then the next, be in what felt like an entirely new body. Mikhail's instincts, gait, and personality felt odd in this body, as if it belonged to a stranger. But he eventually became used to it.
And eventually, he became used to this new lifestyle.
Sniper and Scout's muted discussion caught his eye, making motions to an exhausted Demo then at the door, with either two shaking their head every so often. It was fascinating to watch them interact, considering BLU Sniper and Scout weren't close anymore.
Everyone in the BLU team changed, whether drastically or not. They also didn't have the same dynamics as they did before they were cloned. When Sniper shut everyone out, he only let Heavy get close to him, albeit reluctantly. Scout and Medic's dynamic was also a drastic change, since RED Scout and Medic had a distinct dislike for each other that was obvious in battle, with Medic refusing to heal Scout and Scout stealing the medkits he was going to use.
Engineer and Soldier were also close, and Pyro, while they got along well with Engineer, preferred hanging out with Demoman on more than one occasion. Though they were all close enough that they wouldn't leave each other behind if they had the chance. Even if it took a few of them to understand that.
'Family' wasn't a word they used often, though they silently agreed that-that was the best way to assess their little group.
He was happy to call them family, though. To at least be able to call someone family after losing a family he never had in the first place.
Heavy waved the thoughts away. It wasn't the right time to be thinking about their existence. But was it ever the right time?
"Do ye…" Demoman's voice spoke over his thoughts, and everyone turned to look at him after he disrupted the tentative silence. "Do ya know there're more monsters, laddie?"
There was only the ticking of the clock, Scout's eyes slowly widening.
"What?" He asked, too quiet compared to his normal loud volume.
Everyone turned to look at Demoman, who was leaning against the wall with crossed arms, Heavy noting that he was hiding his knuckles. He remained silent for a few moments as Scout surprisingly let him speak without interrupting.
"I dunnae know how it works, but the people inside the monster "die," 'least that's what it looks like." He started out slowly and only picked up the pace in his tone when he regained his footing and there were no disruptions. "They don't properly die, though. 'Parently the respawn saves their previous states, and they become them after respawning. Luckily, most of the people in the big one ain't saved in the system. But their bodies are still alive in the big one. If that makes sense."
Sniper straightened, and he looked shocked from the news, paling rapidly. "They're… like zombies?"
"Nae, they ain't, they… I found Heavy in the respawn room, y'ken? But he wasn't himself. He… He was like Pyro and just about every other poor bastard who got caught. They were… it's like their brains're rewired to want this. To want to be a monster. But their subconsciousness fights it."
"Then…" Scout bit his lip and scrunched his nose in thought, looking at his feet, when abruptly he said. "Okay, we gotta stop beatin' round the bush. Let's put our heads together. We gotta figure out who was taken and who's still kickin'. If we can figure out who was caught, we can, I dunno, help them, or something, right? Or 'least know who we should watch out for. Chances are that maybe it was just the RED team that got caught, y'know? 'Cause ya found Heavy hidin', right? So that way we aren't dealin' with two crazy ass Pyros, especially one who thinks I betrayed 'em."
He peered around the room desperately, and when no one added anything to his rambling, he hysterically added.
"Alright, cool, so we're all on the same page. But I gotta admit, I'd feel a hell of a lot better if y'all were arguin' with me right now. 'Cause the thought of runnin' from two monster Pyros is really freakin' terrifying."
"There's two Pyros." Sniper muttered.
With a weak expression, Scout muttered a low. "Fuck…"
"Let's just calm down for a mo. As ye said, let's put our heads together." Demo started. "Who got caught? Soldier sacrificed himself to the big one after Scout died, dunno what happened to Engineer after I jumped out the window."
"I was knocked out, my memories a little fuzzy for what happened," Sniper replied dimly.
"I wasn't present for the initial attack." Medic answered.
"I saw Pyro and Heavy get eaten." Scout said.
"'Parently big guy here ran into Spy, too," Sniper said, and Heavy grunted in confirmation.
Demo continued. "So that makes four outta nine for the RED team. Engineer and Medic are unaccounted for."
"We were chased by BLU Pyro and BLU Sniper, too." Stated Sniper.
From the corner of his vision, Medic noticeably crinkled his brows.
Then the focus of the room shifted to Heavy, who appeared taken aback by the attention. He remained silent in inquiry as to why they were looking at him.
"Ye know what happened to yer team, lad?" Demo asked.
Every thought in his mind suddenly blanked, the ever ringing in his ears present.
Silence reigned, and suddenly, he was scared.
Heavy couldn't be scared. He shouldn't be. And yet he was.
His breathing quickened, and he averted his gaze anywhere else besides their questioning eyes. It had been a long six hours of running away from his teammates, so he didn't have the time to acknowledge what happened during that initial attack.
Didn't have time to recall their screams and shouts echoing through the corridors, how he failed to save them, why he wasn't there with them when he went to go get Medic and Scout after they had been gone for a long time.
He was abruptly aware of events, and he couldn't help but feel panic well inside himself.
When he opened his mouth to answer, silent and pale, attempting to hide his feelings of dread, hopelessness, and despair, he breathed in slowly. A second went by, then a minute, pushing the memories of his team begging for help out of his mind.
"Everyone on BLU is gone."
Abruptly, the air became stifling.
Notes:
By far one of my shortest chapters I've written. But for a good reason! I was making my animation so that took up a large portion of my time (the teaser is on my YouTube channel "GraceBOREDPotts" - "Monday Blues, New Kid - Teaser #2"), and there's also the fact that I kind of trapped myself.
Downside to improvising when writing is that sometimes you can trap yourself. This was one of those times. I had chapter 11 almost completely written out, but then I realised that chapter would be better for later. This chapter was going to be longer too, but I like to limit myself to one major monster lore and/or one major character point each chapter, so that I don't overwhelm anyone or forget plot points myself. I was kind of stumped as to how I would proceed without ruining the tension, since horror is incredibly delicate. But I think I figured it out? Don't quote me.
In other news, I had to reread my fic to refresh my mind and I was cringing so badly. I also had to edit a few things, especially in the first chapter, since there were moments that didn't align with Medic's character. Thankfully not much had to be changed.
Tumblr: https/blog/boredgrace23-gracepotts
