Chapter 9: Clones And A Hallway
Notes: Criticism is allowed!
Medic had his pen between his index and middle finger, idly bouncing it as he held the rotary phone away from his ear.
The medical bay's small windows allowed a glimpse of the rising sun. He thought, reflecting from a distance, that they resembled prison windows, even though calling them that was a tad dramatic. They were too small to crawl through, too stifling, and unable to open; someone of Medic's size could hardly fit their head through, though perhaps RED Scout could fit if he squeezed enough.
The thought vanished when he heard Frau Pauling's voice, tone filled with fear and anticipation, almost breathless as if she ran a marathon.
"Wha- what do you mean?" He rolled his eyes at her evident nervousness. It wasn't very professional of her, especially since she was the most professional of them all aside from Sniper. "Did something happen? Were one of you-"
"Calm down, Frau Pauling. I can feel your nerves from here." BLU Medic placated.
'Careful,' his thoughts hummed, 'I can hear your favouritism.'
He didn't say those thoughts out loud, though. He knew she wouldn't appreciate them.
He turned back when he heard the soft patter of footsteps and RED Scout reentering the room after he left to use the restroom, slamming the door shut not a second later. He went to open his mouth when Medic pressed his index finger to his lips to quiet him, but he suspected that wouldn't work. Unsurprisingly, it didn't.
"Yo, BLU Doc, who's on the phone with you?" The Boston asked.
Medic turned back to answer their manager, ignoring Scout and continuing to speak. "Nein. That thing didn't take any of us."
He could answer bluntly, tell her everything without pause. That'd be professional. The right thing to do. But there was something so humorous in making those around him uneasy, even if he shouldn't. Even if he should hold his tongue around them when they could so easily kill him for being a "defected clone."
He never treated his team that way—God only knows just how angry Spy would become if he pulled that with them—but when it came to the RED team? To Miss Pauling? To Blutarch? Seeing them creeped out by the blank expression he gave them? It gave him a strange feeling of refreshment from the now mundane battles and… another feeling. Maybe it was power? Or perhaps a poor attempt at taking back control from this whole clone situation?
'Maybe he truly was like Humboldt,' a treacherous voice whispered to him, though he quickly told it to shut up.
There was never a reason he wanted to make them antsy when he acted emotionless around them. He gained nothing from it other than sadistic pleasure. But rationalising it didn't quell the thought and pleasure he gets from it.
He blinked out of his thoughts in time to her ask, with a somewhat reach in her tone. "Then what?" She sounded as if she wanted to ask more questions, but held back.
He almost didn't want to, but he decided after waiting a few seconds to tell her. "Sniper and Scout found us. The RED ones."
He observed RED Scout blinking in surprise when he heard them mentioned, questioning him further though the Medic didn't hear him and concentrated on what Frau Pauling was saying. There was silence on the other end, then papers shuffling and a breath of relief.
"They're alive…"
Medic merely hummed noncommittally.
"Wait," he blinked out of his thoughts in time to hear her demand. "you said they were 'in a way' in mortal danger. Clarify."
He shoved his ego and sadistic thoughts to the side, letting himself sink into the professional mindset and paused to consider the best way to describe… whatever happened to RED Scout. It didn't sound very logical to say that his arm melted, but there wasn't exactly much logic behind a monster existing either.
"'In a way' meaning I'm unsure if this could classify as 'mortal danger.'" He explained.
"Quit stalling and just say it straight. Time is money and I don't have all day." She abruptly and firmly stated, and Medic could hear the frustration in her voice, much to his pleasure. Guess she figured out he was messing with her.
He made a low, throaty hum. "I'm unsure of what the biological explanation is, but when RED Scout respawned, his arm melted. I'm suspecting that the respawn machine registered his arm as being part of the monster. So I'm speculating that the monster absorbs the person."
There was a lack of words from both RED Scout and Pauling, and he suspected the weight of his words was setting in. A monster that absorbs people. It was gruesome, but at least it wasn't killing them and spawning more of that monster. That'd be far more inconvenient.
"What does that mean?" Scout asked, horrified, as he gazed at him with a desperate look. "What do you mean my arms part'a that thing?"
Medic gave him an indifferent stare in return. "You would've turned into one of those things if Sniper's… claim… is… true…"
He paused and considered those words; "If Sniper's claim is true?"
A realisation so sudden overcame him, like that one convoluted puzzle clicked into place. If Sniper hadn't cut off his arm, he would've become a monster.
'Give them a proper burial, Demoman.'
All at once, he realised with growing horror, that there were more monsters. He wasn't sure why he hadn't realised earlier, why he was so cagey when the topic came up, and only said a select few words. Because there were more, all of them existed because of the respawn machine.
Why hadn't he just focused on what Demoman said? Why didn't he stop to consider his and Pauling's words for one second?
Demoman knew, and Scout was gone. He was somewhere in the base, in what was practically a maze, alone.
Scout was alone.
He almost dropped the phone in his hand to run after Scout, but he stopped himself when he heard Pauling's indifferent hum. She knew as well as Demo did. They both knew. None of them said anything.
He breathed slowly through his nose. He can't overthink anything right now. He needed answers before he jumped to conclusions. He couldn't be abrasive. He had to take control now since none of the team was here.
"Did you know, Frau Pauling?" Medic inquired quietly.
"I already knew that." She answered with little thought.
His face went pale in an instant, and he slowly nodded, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. Feeling sick, he covered his mouth and peered down at the counter. Medic could hear RED Scout's terrified utterances and rapid breathing from behind him, but all that was heard were Pauling's words, which twisted in his mind.
'Give them a proper burial, Demoman.'
"Demo didn't tell you?"
He inhaled deeply and regained his composure. He can't panic right now, not when he needs more information. Scout, where is he?
"Nein- no, he didn't tell me anything."
"Demo really didn't tell you anything?" She asked with perplexity.
"Are you going to keep repeating yourself?" he asked sharply.
"I know, I know, just…" Pauling then muttered to herself more than she did to him. "Why wouldn't he tell you…?"
Medic answered her anyway. "I don't know, but I'll have to ask him later when he comes back."
"He's not with you?"
"He and Herr Sniper went to fetch Scout after—" he paused and slightly grimaced at his choice of words. "—after Scout shot him."
He hoped Pauling could figure out which Scout he was talking about, but much to his displeasure, she couldn't.
"Which Scout are we talking about?"
"RED Scout."
"No, which Scout was shot?"
"BLU Scout."
"So RED Scout shot BLU Scout?"
Medic closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. "Jeremy shot Scout. Is that good enough?"
He heard a sharp inhale of breath behind him, turning around in time to see Jeremy having gathered his own composure. "Who the hell're you talkin' to? Knock it off with that real name crap, aight? Just stick to callin' me Scout. I ain't Jeremy 'round here!"
"Was that Scout?" Frau Pauling asked.
Medic sighed roughly this time. "No, it was the wind."
He heard Pauling sigh as well. "Nevermind, would you tell me how you know Scout's real name?"
"I have my ways."
"Figured I wouldn't get a straight answer from you."
"It's easier if we refer to them by their real names." That way, Medic wouldn't have to be called Humboldt's "clone," and he could be referred to and separate himself as a person instead, even if they just call him 'Medic.'
"Just don't sell their identities to anyone." She warned. Then she added with a stutter. "O-Or stealing their, uh, identities. In Scout's—BLU Scout's case. He- he still doesn't want to steal his identity, right?"
"I already would've." Said Medic, not giving an answer as to whether Scout wanted to steal Jeremy's identity. They all knew the answer to that one anyhow.
"Really not reassuring."
He quirked a brow. "I'm supposed to be reassuring you?" Because he really couldn't give less of a shit for that.
Medic knows he's supposed to be more patient and grounded, especially with Frau Pauling, but currently? He was exhausted from lack of sleep and having to deal with just about everything at the moment. He didn't want to keep up with appearances.
"No, I suppose not." She said simply.
There was more silence, then she made a tiny noise, as if to say something, before cutting herself short. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she lost her voice with how quiet she became.
He waited for her to speak, the only sound present being the ticking of the clock and Jeremy's restless shuffling as he grew impatient for more information. He turned to face the Boston, who was scowling at Medic and fiddling with the revolver's trigger.
Medic wasn't worried that Jeremy would harm him in any way since he doesn't think he could. Although he lacked intelligence, he was astute and wouldn't shoot their only healer alive. At least not until they find their own healer. Not to mention that Medic was confident in his own fighting abilities, and the revolver was out of ammo.
So he barely paid him any mind. He wasn't Scout, and he had no obligation to keep him happy and of sound mind. He only needed to keep him alive until he figured out a "cure." Then what comes after that, he'll figure it out.
"Can't you… fix it?" Oh good, Pauling did have a voice.
He quirked a brow curiously and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, challenging her. "I thought you didn't believe in my ability as a doctor? Since I'm only a "clone" and what-not."
Personally, he didn't get the logic. Why would she not believe in his abilities as a doctor when she still thinks of him as a clone of the doctor himself? It was very contradictory.
"You're the only doctor available." She admitted without much thought.
He let out a silent scoff. "Good to know I'm your second option."
"You'd be my last one."
"Then I don't see much point in fixing this problem. Me and Scout can simply quit." He'll figure out a way to fix his teammates in case some of them are captured by whatever that monster is.
There was silence on the other end, then. "Why would Scout quit?"
Ah, scheiße.
He almost admitted they were close.
He shrugged before realising she couldn't see it. "Why would he stay around when he doesn't like you?"
"But why would he quit with you?"
"Are you sure we're speaking of the same Scout?" He gazed towards the Boston and stared at him for a second, watching him squirm before turning away. "Or is he always on your mind when you hear something with the letter 's' in it?"
"Who the hell're you talkin' to?" Jeremy demanded, going to stand up when Medic twisted away from him.
There was a hefty sigh. "You know what I mean."
There would be no reason to push for an answer if she wasn't already suspecting they were close. Medic wanted to spit out a curse if he wasn't already suspecting she knew something was up with the BLU team. Friendships were banned, nevertheless the kind of kinship the BLU team had. Something like this was bound to happen eventually. Still, he might as well try to stray her off their path in the meantime.
"Ja, but I never said with me. I'm only assuming he'll quit, since there's no other reason to stay." He answered.
"Even with Spy?"
"Why would he be close with Spy?" Medic retorted.
"You're looking for him for a reason, right?"
"We have our reasons."
A contemplative silence, then another sigh. "Please, Medic."
When Medic stayed quiet, he heard a shuffle in the background, along with another sigh.
"What would it take to get you to help?" She inquired, almost imploringly. He would've thought her begging was pathetic if he hadn't understood where she was coming from. If their roles had been reversed, he would've also been pleading. "What would it take for you to fix my Mercs?"
'My mercs,' those words twisted in Medic's head. He knew they were always a second option. Even so, he found it odd to hear those words come from Pauling.
He considered those words for longer, trying to understand why he found them strange when it clicked; he's never heard Pauling say them out loud.
She was extremely professional, direct, and precise, to where a slip of the tongue was impossible with her, despite the times she became awkward with her speech and jokes.
Medic opened his mouth to answer her before he caught sight of Jeremy once more.
"Jeremy," he called.
"What the hell did I just say 'bout my name? Don't call me that!" He barked impudently.
"I'm currently on the phone with Frau Pauling."
"Medic? What're you doing? This- you aren't going to experiment on him-" He heard Frau Pauling's words in one ear and Jeremy's in the other. "Holy shit, is she alright? She's gotta be, right? Has she been on the call with you this entire time? Why didn't you say anything-?"
Jeremy's eyes widened in recognition, and a kind of puppy-like love overcame his expression. Medic rolled his eyes at that.
Though he felt a strange sense of… what was the word? Nostalgia? He wasn't sure why that was, though. Perhaps it was because Scout hasn't had any strong feelings for another person like he did for Frau Pauling, not since their argument. It was a cute characteristic of his that, following their argument, became resentment.
His nostalgia became bitterness at seeing the dopey expression on Jeremy's face, eyes filled with wonder and adoration, with his mouth curled into a big grin. He was envious that Jeremy could freely smile like that.
"Y'know? I really loved her, man. I really, really, loved her." Scout quietly admitted to Spy.
Medic overheard their conversation from the other room. He didn't mean to, and while it was rude of him, he listened in. Spy likely knew he was listening, but he didn't stop him. What use would it be when everyone already knew that Scout's heart was broken?
"I… I had dreams of building a cottage out near a lake, and we'd go swimming and maybe have kids one day. I'd be a good dad to them; have their days filled with love and shit. It's cheesy, but… I wanted that, and I… I barely had a chance."
There was a soft sniffle.
"She was like my dream girl, gorgeous as hell, obviously, but she's got it all. The looks, the smarts, the… She's just… she ain't into copycats like me."
Medic held back a sigh. He wanted to tell Scout that he wasn't a clone. However, he was aware that if he spoke, he'd only make everything worse. He just had to trust that Spy would know what to say; he usually did.
"Scout, listen to me, boy."
The silence stretched, thick with tension.
"Don't say anything idiotic like that again," he scolded, and Medic could hear Scout's indignant sputter.
"If you were just goin' to insult me-"
"I'm not finished."
There was a huff before a soft thump and a chair creaking.
"You aren't Jeremy; you're something better."
Medic raised a hand, signalling for Jeremy to be quiet. He almost let himself become bitter on Scout's behalf. But now wasn't the time, and that was between Pauling and Scout. He had no place to interfere with their business as much as he cared for Scout.
Though, maybe it wasn't a bad thing that he never got with Pauling, seeing as how Jeremy became instantly obedient at merely the mention of her. She was sort of like a leash. A weakness, his thoughts murmured.
"If you give me some time to speak with her alone, I'll let you talk to her." He said.
"Don't pimp me out-"
Jeremy cut her off with a vigorous nod and an enthusiastic, high-pitched tone. "Really?! Okay- uh-"
"Okay! I mean, uh," Jeremy leaned against the bed in an attempt to look cool, sniffing and slowly nodding. "'Kay, uh, how long should I wait outside for?"
"I'll come get you."
Jeremy looked excited before he fruitlessly stifled the look, starting towards the door when he turned back to the German with a frown. "You better hold your end of the deal."
"I will."
"Better."
"I said I will."
"Good." He nodded firmly, then his expression became like a nervous schoolboy's. "Hey, uh, Miss P—"
And wasn't that nickname a flashback and a half for Medic? He hasn't heard that nickname in years.
"—listen up! I'm good, still kickin' and not even close to being held back. So, I lost an arm? Big deal! I'm one of God's gifts to this world. Ain't nothin' gonna keep me down, baby. I'm the coolest and most feared Scout in all of Boston, with my strong-ass arm and wicked moves. Ain't no way I'm gonna let nothin' hold me-"
"Scout." Medic interrupted, narrowing his eyes in annoyance.
"Right, uh, talk to you later, Miss P!"
Much to his surprise, Pauling answered him. "I'll talk to you soon, Scout."
Jeremy exited the room, the door slamming shut, and he turned his attention back to the small windows. The sky was turning blue. It was too nice of a day for what was happening recently. He sighed through his nose quietly and heard Pauling speak.
"Why did you want him to leave the room?" She asked.
Medic thought of what to say. Of what the right words would be to say.
If Spy were here, in just ten minutes he would have a bargain and a blackmail. But Spy wasn't here, and he wasn't here to tell Pauling what he always wanted to say. He wasn't here to take control and to convince Pauling to let them live in case all of this went to shit.
Medic was never at the centre of things; he was a healer, and that was it. That was his job. His sole purpose for existence.
He wasn't supposed to show more emotion than indifference; he'll be seen as weak. He wasn't supposed to be the leader, guiding the team on what they should do next, and he despised speaking more than a couple of sentences unless necessary. But in just under 24 hours, his control was slipping out of his grasp.
He never knew how terrifying it was to change routine.
"This applies to everything, not just before and after the monster."
"What're you asking me?" She asked with a level of wariness.
"You won't kill any of us on the BLU team." Medic began, and he was thankful for Frau Pauling's silence. He wasn't sure if he would've been able to continue if she had. He was already walking a fine line with his demand. "Don't send anyone after us; do not cash in a favour from your bosses that you will have them kill us; don't let any of the RED mercenaries kill us. Nothing. You will provide us with different identities and tickets to another country when I ask. You will say nothing of this to anyone."
She remained quiet.
"Understood?"
Instead, she said in mute realisation. "You don't like being a clone."
Medic clenched the phone, an increasing frown growing on his face. He opened his mouth to say more, but paused, because he wasn't sure what to say. Defend himself? Tell her the truth? Lie? He was too prideful and stubborn to continue acting like Humboldt's clone, despite his earlier desperate bravado when she first called them. He also wasn't going to tell her the truth, since that would make her doubt his abilities even more, or completely shatter the little, if at all, trust they had.
He sighed through his nose, speaking with a mutter. "That has nothing to do with this discussion." It was a weak defence, and they both knew it.
Fortunately and questioningly, she decided to take pity on him. Maybe it was because they were both drained of all their logical reasoning, but he didn't exactly put her on the spot and become testy with her.
"I'm guessing I'm going to need to stay quiet about your relationship with the BLU team as well."
"I'm just in debt to them; I don't have any relationship with them." If his life and his admittedly somewhat familial connection with them were that debt.
It was still odd to say they were like… well, he wasn't going to call them 'family.' He was never the sentimental type. But it was nevertheless odd.
"You know that if I find any evidence about your connection with them, I'll need to report back to the Administrator."
"Like I said, we don't have any connection. We're only coworkers."
She stayed silent.
"I understand." Pauling finally said after a minute. "Keep your end of the deal."
Medic hummed.
"Medic, I need audible confirmation."
"I understand."
There was a sigh, then more papers shuffling. "Can you… I can't believe I'm saying this. Can you put Scou- Jeremy—wow, that's weird—on the phone?"
Medic placed the phone down on the counter and leaned down, tiredly rubbing his face. He really wished Spy were here.
The three were silent as they waited for the monsters to leave, because of Demo's insistence.
It was head-scratching to Heavy to see the two REDs behave the way that they were. Normally, they were shouting insults, taunting the BLU team that they were bad at killing them, or yelling out of frustration whenever they were killed or messed up in battle. Battles were essentially screaming matches—even when it was a casual day.
So, he's never really heard them speak "normally," nevertheless their regular inside voices when out of battle. It was strange to hear them so quiet compared to their usually calloused yelling. But he understood where they were coming from, considering he was also hiding silently with them, tucked in a storage unit away from the monsters.
Heavy listened keenly to the hallways, listening and waiting for the monsters to pass. He knew RED Spy was somewhere in the hallways, but he wasn't sure where he was, and it unnerved him since Spy still had his cloaking device, not to mention his muscle memory with spy work. He was practically and nearly impossible to avoid. Thankfully, his legs were damaged enough to slow him down. His mutterings also kept him audible enough that even if he were cloaked, he could easily be identified.
He was the weakest of the monsters from what Heavy's seen so far, and maybe that had to do with RED Spy damaging his legs before he became a monster. But frankly? He didn't care so much.
Heavy's never truly respected RED Spy before. He couldn't own up to the fact that Scout was his son, much like how Scout would swear up and down he wasn't his father.
Heavy, or rather Mikhail, could relate to being fatherless and the resentment that came with it. His father was killed for being a revolutionist, and Mikhail had become angry at that. He was angry at his father for being a good man, for caring too much, that it was at the detriment of his own family.
Heavy never talked about Mikhail's time in the Gulag after their family was sent there for his father's betrayal. It wasn't anyone else's business besides his. But sometimes, the memories of the Gulag haunted him, even if they weren't his memories. Nightmares and daily memories of it discreetly reminding him of what occurred. It was only three months, but even one bad day can stick with a person for the rest of their lives.
Every thought halted when he heard the sickening gurgling of Pyro and Sniper's throaty words, causing him to grimace. He hadn't been in the room for long, having run around the base while being chased by those things relentlessly. But it was still long enough that he was going slightly stir crazy at hearing their mad mutters.
Heavy had to stop himself from running towards them just to ask if there was a way to fix whatever happened to them. It wasn't them; he knew that, since if it was them, Sniper would've heard Pyro and everyone else asking if he was alright.
At some points as he ran, he almost wanted to turn around. He almost did. It sounded like Sniper, it was Sniper, but Heavy knew it wasn't really him. Still, hearing their voices was like an illusion, false hope.
He listened as Sniper slipped away down the corridor. Pyro occasionally giggled, but Sniper's weighty voice overshadowed the broken, gargled, and muffled laughter of the pyromaniac. He heard the moans of pain accompanied by liquid drips that sounded like slop slapping against the ground, descending the hallway.
"Heavy…? Mate…?" He called, and again, Heavy resisted calling out to him.
He felt Sniper and Demo stiffen in front of him, and he tightened his grip to stop them from saying anything. He knew they wouldn't, but he didn't even trust himself to stay silent.
There was another loud torching noise, Heavy seeing orange just barely peering through the crevice of the door. Mentally, he noted he needed to get that weapon away from Pyro. They were lucky that concrete instead of RED's wooden base surrounded them, but he wasn't sure how long everything would hold up against the flames.
Another minute went by, then two, before he unclenched his tightened muscles, feeling safe enough to do so. A shuddered sigh broke the tentative silence. Whose it was, Heavy wasn't sure.
"How the feck 'ave you lived this long?" With a sudden voice that was louder than before but still barely audible above a mutter, Demoman spoke.
Heavy thought about it before sighing through his nose. "Was here and there, was hiding from RED Spy before Sniper and Pyro."
Sniper straightened at the mention of RED Spy. "He alright?"
"Нет, he is monster too."
He couldn't see their expressions through the darkness, though judging by their silhouettes hunching, they were disheartened. Heavy couldn't exactly care given the majority of his own team was taken as well, but he still felt sympathy for them, in a way. It was stupid, and comforting them was stupid, but he still attempted to, anyway. If Sniper ever heard him, he would call him stupid as well.
"I am sorry if you were close to the Spy." Heavy said to appease them.
"We weren't." Sniper stated firmly, and Heavy had a hard time believing that, especially when he said next. "Just… can- ya know which direction Spy went off to?"
"No, I will not go find him, either."
"Wasn't expectin' you to."
"That's just tough luck, eh?" Demo muttered despondingly, shaking his head. "Poor bastard."
Neither of the two men responded, and Heavy could hear the Scot's clothing rustling. He slightly moved when he felt Demo's elbow hit the knife's handle, wincing but suppressing a grunt. He'll need to find Medic to get rid of this wound. If not him, then the Medi-gun.
"Ach, sorry." Demo apologised.
Heavy grunted.
"Ya know what happened to the rest of yer team?" Demo asked. "'Cause from our team, Pyro, Soldier, Spy, and Heavy are dead. I don't know what happened ta Engie and Medic, and Scout is with yer Medic right now."
"I do not know much," he admitted somberly. "Soldier, Pyro, and Sniper is gone. Our Spy is in your base. Scout, Demo, and Engineer I don't know. Is good to hear that the Medic is alive."
He considered it the best news he's heard all night, because with Medic alive, then they have a chance.
"Yer Scout is alright, we're lookin' for him right now," Demoman said.
"Leetle Scout is alright?" He repeated. "Is good, yes? What happened to him?"
Demo hummed, staying silent for a second before he answered. "They were turning on the water when, long story short, I ran into 'em and we've been together for the past couple'a hours. Snipes and Scout, uh, the RED ones, found us later, and we've been together since. Then our Scout shot yer Scout, so we've been tryna find 'im for the last hour."
"Shot?" He asked.
"Aye, couldn't find 'im though. Yer base is bloody massive."
"Yes, is big problem among BLU's too." Heavy responded.
He couldn't count the amount of times one of them got lost in the halls looking for the bathroom for those first few months. Even now, nine months later, they still found new rooms.
He wondered why they've stayed in this base for as long as they have. He could understand if the Mann brothers wanted to save funds, but after some time, he wondered if that was all it was. The Mann brothers were cheap. He and everyone knew that, though they wouldn't spend this long on a single base when there was more land to be taken.
When they couldn't stay at the Alaskan base because of their bodies being unable to resist the cold, other mercenaries "temporarily" took over. What became of them was unknown. Neither BLU nor RED asked either. Either because they didn't care, or they didn't need or want to know, but it was mainly because they knew asking too many questions resulted in being another unidentified corpse. If there's even a corpse to be found.
Demo continued, unaware of Heavy's thoughts. "We found yer respawn room, but we couldn't stick long 'cause of those monsters out there. Though I doubt he woulda been able to slip out from under that shutter of yours, since it was jammed not even below the knee."
"Scout is tiny, but not that tiny," Heavy answered.
"Speaking of which," Sniper interjected with a question of his own. "Y'know why the lights were shut off? It was bloody impossible to see where we were goin' out there. Doubt your Scout would know which was his left or right too out there."
He grunted in confirmation. "They were shut off by Soldier. One of monsters' eyes was damaged, thought it would be better to stay in dark."
He noticed how Demoman froze at the mention of him but didn't pay him any mind. Everyone knows what happened between him and Soldier.
"What happened to him?" Demoman asked in a low, nearly whispery voice.
"He was also taken."
The silence dragged for a long, tense moment.
He wondered what the Scot would say, if he had anything to say at all. As much as he wanted to villainize Demo for betraying Soldier's trust like he did, he knew they both still cared for each other, no matter how much they pointed guns at one another on the field.
Demo was also the only one on the RED team that saw the BLU team as equals, even if he had his occasional moments. He was the only one who got Soldier out of his paranoid shell because of that.
And for that, Heavy could respect him enough to not villainize him.
He heard fabric slightly shifting, then a despondent reply from Demo. "That's a shame."
Heavy hummed.
"So half our teams are gone now, just like that, in only what? Five hours?" Sniper muttered with a slightly angered tilt to his tone. He sighed through his nose roughly. "It only took two hours for half our teams to be wiped out, if that. We ain't got a chance against those things."
"Did we ever?" The Scot's voice was groggy, as if everything was beginning to weigh on him.
He heard skin rubbing together that he assumed was Demo rubbing his face. "A feckin' monster that absorbs people."
"Ya should've listened to me when I said we should grab Scout and get outta here."
There was a sigh. "We can't run."
"Can't believe 'm sayin' this, but we really should take a page outta Spy and Scout's book and run for the hills. Scout's arm melted after he respawned. We got no other choice but to run."
"How? Where and how far?" He questioned in an interrogating tone. "I ain't a runner, Sniper. And I doubt you'd take any o' the BLU's, or even have room for all of us in yer tiny van."
Heavy remained silent. Though he was momentarily surprised that Demo considered taking the remaining BLU team as well. He was slowly beginning to realise why Soldier liked Demo, and it only further confused him by why he would betray his trust like he had.
"We can make it work-"
"I ain't runnin'. I can't."
Heavy interrupted their argument with his own statement, abruptly changing the topic before they could devolve into a full-blown screaming match. "Discuss this when we are not in dark room surrounded by monsters."
The two paused.
Then Sniper quietly uttered a quick. "Yeah, we'll do that."
Heavy tilted his head towards the door to hear for anything else. When there was nothing, he backed away from the two and began making his way to the exit. He slowly shoved the boxes in front of the door to the side to prevent any noise.
"What're ye doing?" Demo asked.
"Leaving to Medic." He answered. "Monster is gone."
He needed to get to Medic to make sure he was still alive, but he also mainly needed to be healed. The knife in his side sharply poked his innards, and he grimaced. He placed a hand around the wound, feeling warm, sticky blood attach itself to his palm.
When there wasn't an answer from both the RED's, he put a tentative hand on the knob of the door, hearing the knob creak as he twisted it. He half-expected something to be outside. The monsters weren't shambling zombies. They still had their consciousness. He wasn't a doctor, but he assumed it takes over their motor functions and thoughts. But he couldn't be sure until Medic figured something out.
There was a hefty, contemplative sigh behind him when Sniper spoke up, low and annoyed. "Hold on, big guy."
Heavy tilted his head in their direction, listening.
"We'll come with you."
He grunted and heard two pairs of feet walking towards him. It was still odd to speak to the old Sniper. Since BLU Sniper was more quiet and abrasive, he also preferred staying in Heavy's company rather than Scout's after he got off that phone call with RED Sniper's parents.
He wasn't sure why, and even after being asked, he said it was because "Heavy was quiet and left him the fuck alone." Heavy didn't mind either, it was nice to have some company after he and Medic stopped talking to each other as much.
"We can go outside or back way you came from. Outside is easiest route to base," Heavy said gruffly.
The two were mute in what he hoped was thought. The respawn room was connected to the main building, but the team normally preferred crossing the field to get back inside since it was an easier route. Though he's surprised the RED team never found their respawn room before, if their reactions were any giveaway.
"Better go back the way we came from, eh?" He said to Sniper. "That thing ain't around no more, and I dunnae want to chance it with outside case that big ones still hanging."
"Big one?" Heavy inquired.
"Aye, feckin' terrifying that one is."
He waited for more clarification, and when there wasn't any, he grunted. There wasn't a use in pushing for an answer when Medic will have an answer for him.
"Lead way, then." Heavy said.
He didn't exactly feel safe with them leading him somewhere, but there wasn't much he could do about that. He charily opened the door afterwards, the creak of the door too loud for his liking. He paused in between each creak, then, as cautiously as he could, peered through the crack to the hall.
It was too dark to see anything, but he didn't need his sight to know that Pyro and Sniper were gone. He let out a hum that he hoped came across as it was safe.
Their clothes shuffled as they crept down the corridor, footsteps too loud and their breathing audible in the echo-ey corridor. Everything was loud in the darkened hallway, and Heavy cursed himself for being as loud as he was. Though he felt a little better when he heard Snipers mumbled curse beneath his breath when he stepped too loudly, hearing his footsteps immediately quieting.
He heard something soft dragging against the concrete wall and listened keenly, blood rushing to his ears and his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He felt sick, suddenly, wanting to run back into the room they had just exited.
He listened, hearing the dragging get further and further away. It was a noise akin to fabric, along with the occasional scratch like a fingernail.
He located it to Sniper.
"What are you dragging against wall?" Heavy questions in a whisper.
"Fucking-" Sniper breathed, shuddering a sigh. "Be any louder, ya fuckin' drongo."
"Answer question."
"My fingers. It's so I can tell there's a corner. When we were bein' chased, we turned left, left, right, left, right. Then it was straight down until we reached the room you were hiding in. So if we keep goin' down this hall and make a right, we'll find your respawn room." He stated.
He was momentarily impressed, though the terror that struck him at hearing the dragging noise smothered any other feeling. Demo let out a soft chuckle in awe a few feet in front of him.
"That's impressive, lad. Didn't even think of doin' that."
"Ya pick up a few things along the way as an assassin." Was all he said.
Silence reigned once more, and the halls stretched for what felt like miles.
"Y'know, it's pure luck Scout hadn't run into those monsters while runnin' 'round earlier." Demo muttered after a while.
Heavy lifted his brow. "What do you mean?"
"When this whole thing was just startin', Scout ran around looking for you bampots. Took around 25 minutes of him just searchin'. And since he hadn't mentioned the lights being off here, I'm bettin' he just missed you and Sol- and those monsters chasin' you around."
He didn't miss the hesitation on Soldier's name, but he overlooked it after hearing that new information. He almost paused to contemplate those words, but kept walking despite the shock.
There was a slight gape shaping his mouth before a sort of horror mixed with relief sunk into him. Scout ran around the base, and he narrowly missed him, Soldier, and those monsters. He wondered if they ran by each other without realising it, or if they were in opposite hallways, only blocked by a wall.
For the first time since arriving at this base, he was thankful that it was as large as it was.
"How the hell've you kept them off yer hide, anyway?" Demo asked, then clarified. "The monsters, I mean. No offence, big guy, but you're… the big guy."
"I couldn't." Heavy answered, and that was all he said.
The monsters were persistent. Once they caught sight of him, it was as if every other monster in the vicinity automatically knew where he was and swarmed the area. They were persistent, unrelenting, to catch him off guard. Had Sniper not taught him a few tricks on how to hide and conceal his tracks, he would've been dead.
Those monsters didn't lose their ingrained instincts, thoughts, or memories. They caught him off guard a few times, pretending to be okay. They found his hiding spots easily, and they were intent on capturing him. No matter where he hid, one monster always found him. And he knew that was either Sniper or RED Spy's doing.
Sniper and RED Spy were the most intent on capturing him. They were like beasts, if the beasts weren't incomprehensible human beings. Predators would be the better way to describe them.
Heavy, with his size, has never been on the receiving end of being the prey. And he couldn't say he enjoyed it all that much.
"Either way, I think we should avoid 'em. Or be near 'em, for that matter." Sniper stated.
"Whaddya mean?" Demoman questioned.
He heard clothes rustling, then Sniper softly said. "Turn right."
They followed his instructions, and Heavy saw a dim, blue light illuminating down the hall. There wasn't a doubt that it was the respawn room, but he wasn't in a rush to reach the room anytime soon. Especially since RED Spy, from what he remembered, was lurking around this area.
"The monsters. I… dunno, it… I was thinkin' wrong when I was around 'em," He explained hesitantly. "I think it scrambled with my brain. I thought I was him for a mo."
"Who?" Asked Demoman.
"BLU Sniper, I thought I was him. That I was the monster."
Heavy considered the words, going over them in his mind and analysing what he meant. The monster was messing with their brains? He wasn't sure if that was the case or not. He was doubtful that was the case, considering he was around them this entire time, but then again, there were a lot of unknown variables.
"That doesn't make sense."
"I know."
"Nae, I mean it don't make sense it messes with our brains." He said.
"It's a monster, mate, I don't think it makes sense."
"Medic will figure it out." Heavy said,
There was silence from the two, and Heavy figured that was the end of the conversation.
As they approached the respawn room, Heavy could discern the red that glinted on the floor, like a body was dragged across it. Narrowing his eyes, he examined the scene, trying to piece together what had happened.
There was just enough of a crack in the shudder for a smaller sized human to squeeze through. However, someone would need to push the shudder up just a bit more to completely fit. There were bloodstains and handprints on the ground and shudder, giving the impression that something was desperately trying to crawl in or out. Whatever happened, it didn't happen cleanly.
There was a wince of sympathy from Demoman. "Poor bastard, ye think it's Scouts?"
"No, the shudder is too small to fit through." He said. "Probably monsters."
"Who do you figure?" The Scot asked.
"RED Spy was around here." He answered.
"Ya think he's still around?" Inquired the Sniper.
"No."
"Can't count it out, though. The spook likes to camp." He saw Demoman glance at Sniper through the dim light of the neon blue sign. "Like a certain someone."
Sniper barely paid him any mind, and they continued down the hall without any further conversation. Heavy didn't have anything in the room that he needed, he also doubts there's any spare ammo in the room considering it's always cleaned out by the end of every battle.
Just before heading back into the dark, he saw Sniper reach out for the wall again, dragging his slim fingers against the concrete.
The darkness descended, and they made their way through the halls without further issue or conversation.
There wasn't much to discuss, anyway. But Heavy's mind went back to the blood. He knew it didn't belong to Scout, since the shudder was cracked open too small for even RED Scout to fit under, RED Scout being arguably the smallest out of all the mercs.
Still, he concentrated on the size of the handprints, the smears on the ground, and the increasing anxiety that washed over him. He knew RED Spy did something to his legs before he became a monster, and considering RED Spy was the father of Scout, he wouldn't put it past them to have the same hands.
But still, if RED Scout shot the boy, he would've ended up in the same area as RED Spy. Then again, he couldn't be sure with the lights being off. If he assumed anything, Sniper would get after him for jumping to conclusions and say something to the effect of, "you're going to get us killed if ya keep overthinking."
"Left." Sniper muttered.
They turned left; the hallways stretching endlessly.
Unless Scout managed to slightly lift the shudder enough to fit under. But it still didn't explain why it was dragging across the ground. With that much blood, Scout would've died and respawned again.
He knew he shouldn't overthink it, but overthinking was all he could do when the BLU team was in danger. He had to overthink as a meat shield; he had to think of what his next moves were. If he didn't and only bumbled his way through everything, then he'd be no better than a sack of meat.
"Right."
Heavy hit the corner with his shoulder as they turned, frowning and adjusting to the right to stay away from the wall. They were still engulfed in darkness, the familiar buzz of the fluorescent lights no longer present. He never realised how silent it was without the familiar background noise.
"Left."
He'd been trapped in the dark for so long that any sort of noise set him off the edge, a footstep, a pebble being kicked, a single drip, and Heavy dove into the next room he found.
No matter where he was, they always managed to find him. He was never the insecure type, but he was growing frustrated by his size. He was too large and loud; he made too much noise, and he knew that attracted those things to his location.
If he wasn't attracting Pyro and Sniper, then it was RED Spy, who would then alert another monster nearby. He wasn't sure if it was luck or not, but he found that attracting those monsters to him potentially saved three REDs and two BLUs. And that was the best he could hope for as the wall of the team.
"Left."
They turned left and the light of the hallway shone bright, eating away at the shadows and revealing more hallways. Heavy wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel at seeing the light. Relief? Probably. But he just wanted to be somewhere safe enough that he could finally rest. He was exhausted from having to run around. He wasn't the energetic type, and he truthfully couldn't answer Demoman's question of how he's lived for as long as he had.
He heard the two men's footsteps speed up, and he followed suit, jogging to the light.
Heavy blinked when the light overcame his eyes, rubbing his face and realising just how exhausted he was from being in the darkness for… how long was he in those hallways for? Was it morning already? Or was it still dark outside?
The three stood still for a moment, taking in the silence when they were out of the darkened hallway. They then glanced at each other awkwardly when they realised they were standing close to each other, shifting themselves so they were a bit away from each other.
The Russian was surprised to see them both covered in blood, and while he had questions, he didn't say any of them out loud. He'll find out later when they were safe.
Sniper gazed at the knife that was sticking out of Heavy's abdomen, and he looked up at Heavy with an indiscernible expression. Heavy shrugged in what he hoped was a reply and kept his hand wrapped around the wound. He just had to be careful to not jerk it around until they got to Medic.
After staring at each other for a second longer, Demo stretched, joints crackling slightly as he moved them. He mumbled as he did so. "Bloody hell, that was awful."
Sniper hummed in agreement, then muttered. "So Scout ain't there."
Demoman paused.
"I forgot about that." He admitted before gazing towards Heavy, jokingly adding in a nervous tone. "Think Medic would accept Heavy as compensation?"
Notes:
I'm so sorry for the late update. My internet cut off, and I meant to post this a few days ago, and I had so much trouble writing this chapter for some reason. I had to rewrite this page over and over until I got a satisfactory chapter. Not to mention since Heavy appearing wasn't planned yet, I had to tweak a few things.
There's also the fact that in that beginning sequence with Medic, the original plan was that a couple hours after Scout and Medic's argument, Scout comes back so that they both can talk to each other. But that wouldn't have worked out for a number of reasons, so I had Scout shoot Scout.
Essentially, I screwed myself over by having Medic and Scout argue, which is slightly unfortunate because that argument was planned for a while. But it was pretty bad timing, I guess. I didn't know any better way out of that scenario, nor did I have any more filler. Good news is that I wrangled the plot back again, AND you won't need to wait for the next chapter for long!
I just realised just how much of this fic doesn't turn out as planned (I can't count the amount of times this fic's plot slipped out of my hands before I steered it back on track), but then again, my "plans" have always been more suggestions than anything.
Again, I'm really sorry for the wait!
Tumblr: https/blog/boredgrace23-gracepotts