Chapter 10: Originals And Bad Jokes
Notes: Criticism is allowed! For some reason the italics and bolds aren't working, and the formatting is being weird. I know I can't keep fixing the format, so I might just post only on AO3. But I'll see what happens for now and wait until this bug either fixes itself or I find a way to fix it.
Jeremy looked between the BLU Medic and the door, eyes darting from it to him. Wondering if it was a good idea to get the hell out of there and be stuck with that monster, or if he had a better chance here with this guy.
He was sure the doctor noticed his reluctance and nervousness, but who could blame him? He certainly couldn't blame himself. But he wasn't gonna run, no matter how much he wanted to.
Between the uncanny, somewhat terrifying stare the BLU doc had going on, and that fucking downright horrifying monster? Yeah, he'd choose the creepy ass doctor over that any day. Plus, he hasn't done anything too bad to him. Like surgically adding another limb or taking his kidney. At least he doesn't think so.
As much bravado as Jeremy liked to wear, even he wasn't going to ever try to run into that thing again if he could help it. No fucking way. Which is why he was so reluctant to stay with this guy. Not only was he flat out creepy, he was also even more batshit insane than their doc—RED Medic. Which was an achievement in itself.
Sure, he could shrug it off, say the guy never saw the monster himself and isn't aware of the capabilities it had. But even after everything they told him, and even knowing it melted his arm, he was still going after it.
Hunting it down, even.
He was insane, and Jeremy didn't want to be near the guy if he lost it and set that monster after them. Or worse, open the doors wide open for it to find them while sane.
It was clear the guy was also a vindictive bastard if he was just going to shoot his own Scout for pissing him off. Why he pissed him off? Who knows, but even the fellas on his own team never pulled shit like that unless they were pissed.
Seriously, Jeremy always had his neck snapped when he was around Soldier, but at least he has the excuse of being 'not of sound mind,' as Engineer would put it.
Did the BLU's seriously willy-nilly kill each other over petty arguments?
"I can feel you staring. Were you unhappy with the phone call?"
Jeremy flinched at the sudden intrusion of the voice, looking up and being met with the dead eyes of the Medic. He frowned thoughtfully.
Which is another thing, this guy was just plain weird. He never blinked—'least he didn't think so, considering his whole staring deal he's got going on—his eyes were blue, like a weird kind of deathly pale blue, like he was for real dead, and his whole personality and accent was just wrong.
Barely a visible accent unless he was stressed, and his personality was like a brick wall if it carried a bandaid. The only time there was even a sliver of emotion from the dude was tonight, and that was only annoyance so far. He's barely seen him even crack a smile in the last four years. No, wait, three and a half. Still didn't change his point.
Ah, crap. He was staring at him. Jeremy tried staring back with the same amount of intensity. It didn't work, and he only felt the weird sensation of being stared at wrong creep back, unintentionally hunching his shoulders.
"What the hell's with your staring, anyway? Quit." He demanded.
Medic slowly blinked.
"Alright, gonna say nothin'? Fine, whatever." Jeremy huffed and looked away, mumbling. "Fuckin' creep."
His chest pinched with nerves at just the entire wrongness he felt when he kept staring. It was like when he got a bad feeling, and bad feelings usually resulted in something going wrong. But there was also the sense that there wasn't anything necessarily wrong. It was fucking weird and he really needed him to quit doing that.
"You didn't answer my question." He states, pushing his glasses up and exhaustedly rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Were you unhappy with the phone call?"
"What's it matter to you?" Jeremy remarked.
The BLU doctor paused, looking as if he was contemplating something, before rolling his shoulders and continuing with his creepy ass staring. "I suppose it doesn't."
"Whatever, weirdo."
"And your arm? Do you feel anything odd with it?" Medic questioned, eyes glancing down at the missing part of his body he can now call a stump.
"'Sides it hurting like a bitch? Nah, nothing." He answered.
"That's good. It would be inconvenient for you to turn into a monster as well."
Jeremy froze.
He forgot about that.
It was like a weight was dropped on him, weighing deftly on his chest. He gazed down at his arm like it would grow something off of it. Yet nothing changed, no matter how much he stared at it.
Knowing he could've turned into a monster was different from knowing he would die. When those tumours started growing on those breads, after the teleporter bugged out, he didn't care what would happen to him then. Death was death. So what? It happened to everyone. Plus, he had time to make his dues, say goodbye to his loved ones and shit, and he even scored a date with Miss P!
But this was different 'cause he wouldn't die.
He would be a wandering monster in the halls, in agony until he was miraculously put out of his misery, or until one of the guys figured out how to fix them. He would be fully alive for the better part of what could be a day to years.
That was… more terrifying than he would ever admit.
Jeremy wasn't a smart guy, he knew that even if he wouldn't admit shit, but he seriously doubted BLU Medic's ability. Word around the grapevine is that he ain't as smart as RED Medic. So not only was the dude not smart, he was also just batshit insane.
Maybe he should be really subtle about this? Be suave and persuasive like Spy, and just tell him that he was making a horrible mistake and that he doesn't want a part in any of it? He should be subtle. Yeah, subtle, he can do subtle.
"Why the hell're you chasing after that monster, anyway?" And subtle he was not.
Medic stared at him, unblinking. "What brought this up?"
"That monster ain't gonna sit down and have some beer with you. What? Ya think this is gonna be a walk in the park? 'Cause it ain't. I know what that thing does. It ain't pretty. It killed Heavy, BLU doc! Heavy. That guy's a tank! Instantly, too! He barely had a chance against that thing! And you think you can be all high and mighty and think that running after it without a plan will do anythin'? You're somehow more insane than Medic, and you're a clone of him! How stupid do ya gotta be to think that you can fight against that thing when it ate Heavy in like, two seconds tops!"
"Did I ever say it would be a walk in the park?" Medic answered, stress lines forming in his face, though Jeremy didn't care.
The younger man continued prodding him, pushing him for an answer. He knew from experience that when someone was pushed enough, they would do stupid things, and if there was one thing Jeremy was good at, it was annoying people. That was what he was hired to do, after all.
"Yeah? Then why're ya tryna hunt that thing down, huh? Ya trying to die faster? Then go ahead, wouldn't matter if you just die here anyway, we can just make more of you-"
Medic held up a hand to stop him, expression neutral despite his insults. He then sighs, like he was talking to a child who was speaking nonsense.
"I'm only looking for the monster because I was asked to deal with it by both the Administrator and Frau Pauling. I am not looking for it out of my own accord." He answered.
"How the hell do you expect to deal with that thing? It's practically unkillable!" Jeremy asked, aghast.
"I'll figure out a way," Medic said, before murmuring so low that Jeremy almost missed it. "There's always a way."
After a few moments of staring, Jeremy leaned against the wall with a huff, hearing the bed creak beneath him and being pushed along with it against the wall. Yup, the bastard was totally insane.
For several minutes, Jeremy remained silent and stared around the med-bay, which appeared more tidy than the RED doc's. The tiled floor was free of any yellow or brownish stains, and there were no buckets or jars filled with mysterious meats. He shifted and cast a nervous glance around the space. He hadn't realised how strange it felt to be in a room that was both familiar yet different.
Silence filled the area, with light sounds of metal shifting and creaking from whatever Medic was doing to his Medi-gun.
"Why the hell did youse turn the hot water off, anyway?" Jeremy blurted in question, trying to fill the silence that was stretching for too long. "Can't ya BLUs, like, die in the cold or something?"
Medic briefly looked over his shoulder before turning back to his work. "We can, though it's more complicated than that. But we didn't turn off the water. Me and Scout went to turn it on when we ran into Sniper, then there was an explosion, which I'm assuming were you and a few of the REDs fighting that monster?"
He ended his sentence in a questioning tone, though Jeremy didn't give an answer, pinching his brows together confusedly at the revelation.
"Wait, ya really didn't turn off the hot water?" He asked, baffled. "Seriously? Ya ain't kiddin'?"
"No."
"Aw, what the hell! So someone just decided to prank us?!"
"I suppose so."
With a sour expression, Jeremy leaned forward and let out a groan. While he wanted to curse out whoever pranked them, he couldn't be too frustrated, since he would've turned into a monster if Sniper hadn't died and been there at the right time. He'd rather deal with the cold water again and have his other arm cut off than become that thing.
"Hey, why the hell're you being so… nice and shit?" Jeremy questioned.
Medic threw him a blank look. "What do you mean?"
"Our doc wouldn't've done all this shit you're doing for us. He woulda just left you BLU's for dead."
The BLU doc fell silent in thought; he watched as his hands swiftly tinkered with whatever he was doing to his Medi-gun. Then, with unexpected delicacy, he set down the screwdriver.
"I was told to." He then completely turned towards him, hand still on the counter, as he gave him a grave look that sent a chill through him. Jeremy clenched his fingers around the gun again, abruptly feeling hopeless when he remembered there weren't any bullets in the casing. "I would've left all of you for dead and taken the remaining BLUs with me, had it not been for Scout and the women in purple."
The look made Jeremy blink before the words finally caught up to him. "Scout?" He asked, because from what he knows, Scout was a pretty pissy guy who was willing to kill them all permanently.
Whenever he got pissed off enough when they were battling, he would always let those words slip. Which he found kind of stupid, since all of them couldn't give two fucks if they were actually killed.
Medic turned back to whatever he was doing. "Yes, Scout. Before Frau Pauling contacted us, he struck up a deal with your Demo that if he let him stay here in our base with us, he'd give us our Spy back."
"Oh, thank god…" Jeremy muttered, feeling himself slump in relief.
The German clone gave him a questioning look. Or at least, he thought it was a questioning look. It was hard to tell with the guy.
"His head's been terrifying to look at, man. Seriously, I open the fridge and all he says is 'kill me.' It freaks me the hell out every time. Take him. It's messed up, even by the doc's standards. But I doubt the crazy bastard even has standards." Jeremy said with a roll of his eyes, scowling when he remembered the head in the fridge.
BLU Spy's head was seriously creepy. He was always just sitting in the fridge, just… doing nothing. It was messed up. Then again, it was the doctor. There wasn't exactly anything sane about the guy. Hell, Pyro was more sane than that guy was. He seriously never thought he'd meet someone more insane than the pyromaniac. Actually, that's a lie. Soldier's head collection was also terrifying.
Medic ignores him, picking up a different-headed screwdriver and inserting it into a loose nail. He looks out the window at the blue sky, listening to the sounds of Medic fiddling with the Medi-gun and the ticking clock. Then Jeremy tilts his head toward the clock, squinting to read its numbers.
"What's the time?"
"Early."
"Okay, smartass, what's the actual time?"
"5am."
Jeremy looked at the clock as his eyes grew wide with panic. "seriously?!"
"Do you typically sleep late?" He replied.
Though Jeremy asked instead, distressed. "It's only 5am?"
Medic weighed it for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it's been a long 13 hours."
Jeremy couldn't answer him, instead making weird noises in his throat akin to mouse squeaks. His mouth twitched to respond as he furrowed his brows, but nothing came out. It couldn't have been only 13 hours.
Half of the teams, of both teams, were gone just like that? In only 13 hours?
His eyes twitched, going from being narrow to wide and then squinting as he peered uncertainly at his other hand. His gaze shifted to his feet and then to the too clean tiled floor. Thickly swallowing, he felt as though he was losing blood as everything swirled together. His breathing grew laboured and his ears began to ring.
He wasn't sure why, but hearing the confirmation that it's only been 13 hours since everything began, since that monster suddenly crashed through that wall, since Heavy and Pyro merged into that monster, since Engineer went missing, since he lost his arm, all his bravado disappeared, and hopeless despair replaced it.
Jeremy felt a hand weigh heavily on his shoulder, and he looked up at Medic… Wait, no. Not RED Medic, and for some reason, he was stupidly disappointed that it was only BLU Medic. The doctor was pressing another hand on Jeremy's right one, looking exasperated as he tugged it away from his wound.
With a blink, he realised he was holding the bandages tightly and on the verge of unwinding them. He stared, unblinking, for a brief moment, before releasing his firm grip and allowing the physician to redirect his hand to his lap.
When did his hand move?
"Don't touch it," he admonished mutedly.
After blinking, Jeremy gave a jerky nod. "Yeah, yeah, you, uh, you got it…" he licked his lips nervously before turning away from him.
Medic scrutinised the bandages closely with narrowed eyes, then closed his eyes for an extended period, sighing slowly through his nose. Jeremy thickly swallowed while he did this, and just as he was about to ask what was up with him, Medic gradually opened his eyes and went to retying them steadily.
"Is there anything you would do if you were ever to leave this mercenary work?"
Medic gave him an odd look.
"Just… humour me, alright?" He needed something to occupy his thoughts other than the impending doom.
Medic didn't reply for a minute, working swiftly at his bandages. Jeremy was about to scoff and retort in embarrassment; it was a stupid question to ask a BLU; he knew that, especially when it was something as personal as this. But instead, much to his surprise, Medic hummed thoughtfully.
"I'd like to be a medical teacher." He answered briefly. "Maybe help others learn medicine."
Jeremy blinked at the answer. He never thought that was something Medic would want to do.
"Huh."
"A silly dream, isn't it?" His eyes were crinkled, and they seemed somewhat bitter.
"Nah, nah, I getchu, I wanna become a coach and shit. Y'know, teach squirts how to play baseball?" Jeremy smirked before becoming flustered at what he admitted, giving an indifferent Medic a glare. "Better not tell anyone."
"I won't." He said in a low voice. He tightened the wrappings around his wound, caressing the loose bandages beneath each other, and speaking while he did so in a noting tone. "Yours and Scout's dreams differ from each other."
"Whaddya mean?" Jeremy asked with a tilt of his head.
"Scout still wants to be a mercenary, despite everything." He scoffed. Whether in bemusement, bitterness, or surprise, Jeremy didn't know.
"What's wrong with bein' a merc?"
"Nothing, it's what's wrong with us being mercenaries." Medic paused slightly, before shaking his head. "Nevermind."
"Nah, I wanna know, what's up with you BLUs? You're all so weird."
Even if he doesn't talk to them at all outside of battles, he knew how weird they were even in battles. His own clone was obsessed with wanting to kill all the REDs; Medic was nothing like the RED Medic; Heavy was a nervous wreck; Sniper was just an asshole; and so on.
He knew; he saw what was wrong with them and how they'd changed, but the team always dismissed him when he tried to bring this up. They weren't clones of them anymore. They were more like distant relatives he saw once every few years.
Medic winded the bandages tightly around his sore arm, and he yelped in pain, leaning away from the doctor's rough hands.
"It's none of your business."
"What? Sore spot? I get it. Ya wanna keep a few secrets to yourself to be mysterious, sure." Medic's glare was more harsh than it was previously, though he remained silent as Jeremy continued. "Ya BLU's aren't us anymore, and I wanna know what's up with youse 'cause no one's telling me shit! I know some of you are hiding something-"
"And what if we aren't?" He questioned, eyes narrowed with hate slithering around in them. "What if we're different because of you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Medic and Jeremy stared at one another, and while he knew he shouldn't be challenging him like this, especially when he was in as vulnerable a state as he was, he needed to know what was up with them.
"You're clever; I'll give you that. But you are much more of an idiot than I expected. Can you really not figure out why we are the way we are?" Medic challenged him right back, arrogantly lifting his chin so that he was looking down on him.
Jeremy tightened his jaw, reached for the Medic's collar, and took a firm hold of it to forcefully drag him down to his level. The abrupt movement momentarily startled the doctor, but Medic continued to focus his piercing gaze on him.
"Sure, let's say I am stupid, but I know I'm stronger than you."
Medic looked more perplexed than he had ever seen him at his reply, rolling his eyes in exasperation afterwards, while Jeremy sneered at him with offence. He was stronger than him; he's killed the asshole before in battle. He could totally take him on again.
Just as Jeremy was about to make another remark, footsteps sounded in the corridors. When Jeremy paused to listen to the footsteps, he heard Medic's breathing halt simultaneously, and they both turned to face the door. He didn't let go of his grip on Medic's collar, keeping him close as they waited for something to happen. Briefly, Jeremy thought it was the monster.
Thoughts of what he should do ran through his mind, considering what would be the best thing to do. He could use Medic as a distraction, and maybe if he could somehow destroy the small windows, he might escape through them. He could outrun that monster, so if he used Medic as a distraction, he could escape-
A hand wrapping around his throat cut his thoughts off, cutting off his breathing supply.
"If that is the monster, you're coming with me."
Jeremy choked, his hands loosening around his collar as he met Medic's vacant stare. He just appeared accepting; he wasn't scared or angry at the thought of becoming a monster.
When Jeremy was still doing odd jobs back in Boston, he only ever saw that look on a very small number of people, and even then, only when they were close to death.
They wouldn't die if that monster caught them. For God knows how long, they'll be forced to spend their days wandering through the base's hallways as an indestructible monster.
For some reason, Jeremy feared Medic more in this current moment than that monster.
Because only a slightly more sane man would choose to run.
But it was hypocritical to say that when Jeremy wasn't sane himself, because he should've run when he had the chance; he should've chanced running blindly through the hallways then staying with this batshit insane man.
He began pounding on the wrist that was pinning him against the wall, choking on his saliva and the trapped air in his throat as he gagged.
He attempted to speak, but only gurgles emerged from his throat. He wasn't going to let that monster catch him, even if it meant cutting his other arm off.
He wasn't going to become another Pyro and Heavy.
He glared at Medic and tried spitting curses at him, when there was a resounding click from the door.
He gasped when he kicked Medic's shoulder, his arms, and his legs, slapping his hand even if it did nothing.
His mind screamed for him to escape.
He couldn't be caught by that monster. He didn't want to become that thing.
His vision was splotching in the corners, and the fire in his lungs was starting to die out. Everything began to darken, and in the back of his mind, he thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to sleep, at least for a moment.
Sleep. That was a good idea—
"Bloody hell!"
—he shouldn't, sleeping meant dying. He knows that from experience.
He experienced a few seconds of disorientation, blinking away the patches in his vision, before suddenly becoming conscious with a rasp. His ears pounded with blood, and for an instant he could hear ringing. He fluttered his eyes to moisten them and clear his vision.
After letting out a short gasp, Jeremy smacked his lips and automatically put his hand to his neck. He glanced over to his side to see if Medic was still there. Instead, he saw Sniper standing next to him, appearing somewhat alarmed but overall more agitated.
"You good, Scout?" He heard softly in his ear. Or as softly as Sniper could sound.
"Yeah," he coughed, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I'm good."
Jeremy turned to face the three men in the corner. Demoman was currently holding Medic's shoulder in a vain attempt to hold him back, and his gaze slowly went to a broad back he recognized belonging to BLU Heavy.
"When'd he get here?" Jeremy inquired, eyes wide with surprise.
"We found him when we were lookin' for Scout." He responded, then cast a sidelong glance with a raised eyebrow at Jeremy. "Did ya piss off Medic?"
"Nah, more like he's just batshit insane." Jeremy replied, scratching his sore neck.
Sniper huffed in amusement.
He craned his ears to listen to the three men's conversation, hearing Demo's raising voice.
"Do ye just get off choking other people?!"
"I wouldn't be saying that when your Scout is usually being choked."
Jeremy frowned. "Watch it-"
They continued their conversation without hearing him.
"Yer aff yer heid if ya thought that was the best idea!" He shouted in disbelief.
"It was slightly stupid, yes, but I wasn't going to be used as bait." The doctor responded.
"So ya thought taking both of you out was the best thing?"
Medic rolled his shoulders as he replied. "How many times are you going to bring this up? I'm tired of hearing you repeat yourself."
"Maybe it's 'cause yer a daft, crazy, bastard!"
Jeremy full-heartedly agreed.
"Was that best you could do for situation?" Heavy murmured to the doctor.
Jeremy blinked in surprise when he saw Medic scowl at Heavy, because Medic was never irritated with Heavy. Heavy was always the voice of reason in the RED team, and for him to be challenged about what was right or wrong was like challenging a brick wall. To his disbelief, though, Heavy sighed and gave in.
Demoman's eyebrows were pinched as he looked between the two, obviously shocked as well. Medic cast a scowling glance at the Scot and looked around the room as though searching for something.
"Where is der Junge?" He asked.
"Oi, don't try to change the subject, now. We're still talkin' 'ere." Demo firmly said.
Medic sighed and rubbed the lower half of his face exhaustedly. "None of this wouldn't have happened had your Scout not shot mine." He said, casting a look at Jeremy that he couldn't decipher.
"Ain't my fault your Scout freaked me out! Thought he was a monster or some crap!" Jeremy wrinkled his nose in frustration and gave a growl. "He could be one, y'know! Maybe those monsters are made the same way youse are!"
Medic sharpened his glare but said nothing in response. Jeremy looked anywhere but his gaze; even if he found it eery as all hell, he wasn't going to take his shit. He'd rather die before he rolled over and let him talk about whatever shit he wanted to.
"Lad, not helping." Demo said.
"So what? They'd leave us for dead if they had the chance! You know it too! Seriously, lookit what he tried doing to me and him! The bastard's pretty much lost it! Hell, all the BLU's lost it! They ain't human, so why do we gotta stick around 'em?"
"Why are we arguin' about this again?!" Demo roared in frustration, and all the noise ceased from everyone. "Oh, for the love of—all right, you lot, knock it off! Bloody hell! Are ye all kids or something?! We have a feckin' job to do! Not a yelling match where the loudest person wins! Might as well just lead that thing to us if yer all this keyed up for a fight!"
Jeremy frowned impudently. "They aren't people-"
"Scout, I ain't messin' 'round 'ere." He states in a low, warning tone. "We can't run 'cause if we do, we'll have Miss Pauling up our arses, and I doubt that's something any of ye want when tryna live normal lives. So either shut yer gobs or fuck off and chance it with those things!"
He turned his attention to a surprised Sniper. "And you! Ya always preach about professionalism, how 'bout ya follow yer own advice and actually do your feckin' job instead of trying to follow Scout's lead here!"
Jeremy clenched his teeth, Sniper shuffled uneasily next to him, and Heavy looked between the three REDs and Medic, who appeared composed in the face of everything Demo had said.
After a few moments of silence, the words finally registered, and Jeremy narrowed his eyes in contemplation. Why was Demo so coherent? It was odd hearing him speak clearly without a single slur.
After giving it some thought, it finally dawned on him: he wasn't drunk.
Demo didn't notice the strange look that Jeremy shot him. He never heard him speak so coherently before; in fact, he's never even seen him take the initiative.
In terms of teamwork, they were usually all working together to create a plan; Spy usually took the lead and came up with plans, while Medic and Engineer added their own input, but when things went wrong, Jeremy was usually the one strategizing to get them out of the situation. Everyone else stayed in the background, allowing events to unfold and lending support when needed. Especially Demoman.
If Demo, their resident drunkard, had to take the lead this time, things were fucked up right now.
After a minute of silence passed, Medic said. "Speaking of the monsters-"
"Bloody hell."
"Come out with me in the hallway. We need to discuss them."
Demo paused and looked at Medic with a sceptical yet surprised expression. "Monsters?" He parroted in shock.
"I said that, didn't I?"
"Okay, look. Hear me out," Demo followed behind him as he spoke pleadingly. "I hadn't meant to lie, honest."
The door clicking shut interrupted him, and the three people still in the room exchanged uncomfortable, awkward glances.
"He was totally sober, right? I ain't hearin' wrong?" Jeremy blurted.
Sniper nodded. "Yeah, looks it. Didn't even realise he was sober."
"That's so weird."
"Makes sense, though. That alcoholic hasn't had a drop of scrumpy since…" Sniper thought about it, looking mildly impressed. "Blimey, it's been since this afternoon."
Jeremy looked shocked, glancing between him and where Demoman left. He's only seen that guy sober twice in the time he's met him. How he hasn't died from alcohol poisoning, he wouldn't know. It was honestly a miracle he hasn't already.
He felt eyes on himself and fixed his gaze on Heavy, who seemed to be attempting to read Jeremy's expression.
"Anyway, what's your deal, big guy? How'd ya survive with your fatass?" He asked.
Jeremy rolls his eyes and huffs when Heavy grunts without responding. What was up with the BLUs and their lack of communication?
He turned to Sniper, who was standing inconspicuously beside him, and reached up to grab hold of his upper arm to forcefully pull him down to sit next to him. Sniper gives a startled grunt and turns to glare at Jeremy, grinning at the disapproving glance he's getting.
"How'd ya find Heavy here?" He questioned.
"I told ya we were looking for that BLU Scout when we came across him hiding in a room. Bloody hell, it was chaos out there. Couldn't tell ya if any monsters followed us back here or not, but we can't rule out the possibility."
At the answer, Jeremy felt his blood drain.
"Whaddya mean monsters?" He asked in a quiet tone.
"I mean, those damn things were chasin' us all around. BLU Sniper and Pyro got themselves caught by those shits and respawned as those things. We found Heavy hidin' in one of the rooms; seems he was evading them until we stumbled across him."
"So there were actually more monsters? Like, really-really?" Jeremy asked.
"Yup."
He felt his skin rapidly pale, and he glanced at his cut off arm. He could've turned into one of those freaks, doomed to endlessly roam the hallways. If Medic killed him then, or if it was really those monsters at the door, they both would've become one of those things.
Suddenly, his neck itched, and he reached up to massage the sore areas, shifting his jaw uncomfortably. He would've become a monster.
He knew it was a common theme among everyone that he was choked out by someone at some point; the only one who hadn't so far was Sniper. He didn't give a damn though, since he knew that it was just a joke at this point. He never actually felt fear when he was choked because, even if he died, he'd respawn, and if he somehow did die, he wouldn't exactly cry.
But someone choking him had never paralyzed him with heart-stopping terror.
He couldn't come back from this one. If he dies, he'll respawn and his arm will melt. He'll become one of those things.
And if Medic was willing to let them both become monsters, what else was he willing to do?
The doctor wasted no time and immediately delved into the topic as soon as they were far enough from the door so they wouldn't be overheard. The sudden acidity in his voice took Tavish aback.
"Vhy didn't you tell us about zhere being more monsters?" Medic questioned, tone dripping with animosity and his accent peering through.
"I didn't mean to not tell ya," Tavish started slowly, looking anywhere besides his gaze.
"Zhat isn't vhat I asked, I asked vhy. Do you have any idea what kind of danger you put us in? Letting Scout run around zhe base because he vas under the impression there vas only one?" He hissed.
Tavish fell silent. He didn't have an answer for that.
He watched as Medic exhaustedly rubbed his face, peering through the crack of his fingers to scowl at Tavish. He was no longer the emotionless Medic who was calm and collected; he was only frustrated and exhausted by everything that had happened in the last couple of hours.
This was the most emotion he's seen from him, and instead of it being in battle, it was here, when they were trying to survive against an incomprehensible monster.
"I didn't know, alright?" Tavish began. "I thought we wouldn't need to deal with them. I didn't think this would be that serious-"
"You didn't zhink this vould be that serious?" Medic parroted disbelievingly. "zhere are more of those things and you thought-"
"I had faith ye would do something before it became a problem!"
"And you all call me crazy when you said nothing." Squeezing his lips together and suppressing the accent that managed to seep into his regular voice, he said.
"'Cause ye are out of yer goddamn mind! Ya tried takin' yourself out with Scout! Do ya even realise how bloody insane that is?!"
Tavish glanced down at Medic's twitching hand and then shot him a snarling look.
"Ye better not lay a hand on me. I swear I'll drag you down with me. Let ya deal with those blasted monsters in your own spawn!"
"Natürlich gibt es Verfickt Monster in unserem Respawn."
Medic's face pinched with rage as he flippantly waved his arm in the air. When Tavish scoffed in annoyance, he snapped back at him, almost so strongly that the Scot was
shocked he hadn't wrenched his own head off by the force.
"You gonna do somethin' about it or just continue to be feckin' pissy at me?"
"If I had known before, I would have taken more precautions."
"Look, I'm sorry I didn't want to admit that my team had turned into bloody monsters, alright?!"
"What was the point in denying it? We would have had to look for them, anyway."
"I just want to blow stuff up and make me mum proud! It ain't my job to deal with monsters from literal feckin' hell!" Tavish got up to Medic's face, continuing to snarl at him like he was some rabid dog. "Oh, but of course the emotionless bastard wouldn't understand that! Ya don't even have a family!"
Medic spoke through his teeth. "I'm at least not known for being a drunkard because I couldn't admit I killed my own parents."
Tavish faltered, staring into the deathly pale blue eyes that pierced him, a sudden feeling of vulnerability going through him. How did he know that? No one knew that, and he never told anyone either. He wouldn't tell anyone.
Nausea overcame him, and he muttered beneath his breath. "How do ya… how do you-"
"Denial, denial, denial. That's all you know how to do." Medic continued, spitting out the words venomously. "You can't even say Soldier's name, and you betrayed him."
"Yer a hypocrite…" he muttered, his breathing heavy with vulnerability and fear. "A bloody hypocrite!"
Tavish swung a fist at Medic, only to be thrown against the wall. He struck it with a loud thud and roared in agony, turning to face the doctor cruelly. Pure, simple hatred swam in his eyes.
"You're a bloody clone, but you can't even admit it." Tavish spat. "Yer feckin' nothing. Maybe Scout's right that you don't have a soul! 'Least I got people waitin' for me in heaven; I doubt you'd even have an afterlife."
Glaring at him with the same level of hatred, Medic took his shoulders and slammed him against the wall. He clenched his hand and aimed to hit him, but Tavish pulled him back, shouldering him away. Medic staggered backwards, and when the Scot threw his fist that caught between the clone's ribs, he gave a loud, rough cough.
He gasped at the wind taken out of him, and Tavish tackled him to the ground, pinning him against the cold concrete.
He winded up his fist and struck him across the face, hearing him grunt.
"You're just a damn copy!"
Punch.
"You think you're something special?"
Punch.
"We could make an entire damn army of Medic!"
Punch.
"It wouldn't even change a bloody thing in the end!"
Punch.
"Maybe the next Medic clone won't be as feckin' crazy insane as you!"
Punch.
"At least he won't try to turn us into monsters because of some ridiculous pride!"
Punch.
"The next clone might actually like bein' a feckin' clone!"
Punch.
Crunch.
Tavish stopped, panting for air and clenching his fist while gazing down at Medic's bruised face. His chest made laborious lifts and falls, the only sign that he was still alive.
The doctor's face was blistering with red splotches, quickly turning into violent yellowish-blue bruises. His mouth and nose were prickling with blood, and his eyes were squeezed shut in agony. The man beneath him began to wheeze softly, and Tavish felt a cold sweat roll down the back of his neck.
He glanced at his fist, his knuckles red, both from his repeated brutality against their only living doctor, and said doctor's blood.
He was suddenly, vividly aware of what he'd done, and he dropped his fist to his side.
Shit.
Notes:
Then Tavish begins to violently make out with Medic as an apology. The end. I hadn't planned for them to start fighting, but with Medic being apathetic and Demo being VERY emotional, it only made sense for them to break out into a fight at this confrontation.
Sorry if this chapter was a little rushed, I wanted to get it out as soon as possible. My personal life has been really weighing on me these last two weeks, and I can't say I'm doing well in the mental department. It definitely leaked into my writing too, so whoops. I'll try to keep myself out of it next time. But don't worry about me! I love doing this because it keeps me sane!
Good news is that I accidentally wrote out the majority of chapter 11, so you won't have to wait again! ALSO, I GOT FANART? HOLY SHIT! LOOK AT IT! IT'S SERIOUSLY AMAZING! It was made by [https/feverkraut] and I really can't thank them enough for it! It really made my week a bit better!
Tumblr: https/blog/boredgrace23-gracepotts