Beginning notes:
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Don't be afraid to criticize! I want to improve as a writer and any sort of critique or analysis is welcomed!
Chapter 7: Clones And Cold Anger
Scout moved his hand down and then up, as if the movement was delayed.
Scout felt as if his hand had detached from his body and was moving independently, despite the fact that he was the one moving the limb. The sensation was like becoming conscious of something done by instinct, like breathing or blinking.
Medic called it 'dissociation.'
It made sense, Scout guessed. He didn't feel like he was in his own body. It was like someone else owned it. Or, he knew he owned his body, but his body didn't think he did?
Come to find out, the brain was an abusive thing as it was hypocritical—a double-edged sword that stabs others while simultaneously stabbing the holder. It was easy to manipulate itself while being just as capable as manipulating others.
He knows this because his own brain tricks him to "protect" him. At least that's what Medic says.
Why or what it was protecting him from, he wasn't sure, but he was tired of it trying to do so. That "protection" hurt him more than it protected him.
He felt like a stranger in his own body, that if one day he lost his arm, he could replace it with another arm and it would still feel like a stranger's arm. Everything around him looked like it came straight out of a comic book, and his movements were always robotic.
Running felt flimsy in his body; his weapons always felt like they weren't his, and his face, his body, was always different from Jeremy.
Every time there was silence, he was always plagued with the thought, 'What if he wasn't Jeremy?'
He was terrified of being just Scout. Because Scout was just a title, a job, and Scout liked nothing other than fighting. Scout didn't have family or friends; Scout had a job, and that was it. He was arrogant and cocky and blood thirsty. A textbook narcissistic psychopath who liked to kick puppies and steal candy from babies for fun.
He didn't want Scout to be his only identity; he didn't want to be his own person. Scout didn't want to die as just Scout. But it wasn't that Scout wanted to be his own person and have his own name.
He wanted to be Jeremy.
Jeremy had everything he didn't: outside friends, outside family, hobbies he could pursue, things outside of BLU and RED and mercenary work, and everything he lacked.
He wanted to be Jeremy because Jeremy had a hot lady who liked him, an entire family waiting for him to return home, and friends back in Boston who were eager to trade cards and cheer him on at a baseball game. Jeremy was everything he wasn't.
Everyone he's gotten to know over the years is gone; people he's come to think of as family were eaten by some monster; Medic was already going through his own shit; Spy was stuffed inside a fridge; and if the last two people he thought of as family died, he'll die soon after them. If he isn't killed by that monster, he'll be killed by the Administrator's orders because he had too much information on all of them.
It was why he found this base, and just about every other base, so suffocating. For four years, he's been forced to move from base to base, unable to call a place home. It was why their dorm rooms had no decorations, their workshops were just workshops, and they didn't have anything special like portraits or posters, or even any other clothing that wasn't provided by the company or that they had to buy to disguise themselves in the civilian population.
At first, he called Jeremy's home his home, because that's what it was. His memories were still vivid, even after all this time. He still remembered holding his ma's hand, still remembered being beaten up by his brother's, still remembered the streets of Boston like the back of his hand, and still remembered every accomplishment.
But it wasn't actually his. It was Jeremy's.
After a while, he wanted that home for himself. He grew resentful.
Sometimes he had fantasies about killing Jeremy, sometimes dreams and oftentimes nightmares, about destroying the RED team's respawn machine and taking Jeremy's identity after suffocating him. He wanted Jeremy's life for himself. He wanted to be Jeremy instead of his cheap copy.
Scout had no idea if he liked women, if he was a sports fan, or whether he had the same interests and goals and aspirations as him. He wasn't sure if he liked running, if he even liked killing.
Jeremy was a womaniser, a sports fan. He had entire goals for what he was going to do in the future. He wanted to be a popular baseballer when he was younger, then he wanted to be the best mercenary, and he was on his way to achieving that title.
Scout had freckles, a paler complexion, and lighter hair.
Jeremy didn't have freckles, he also had a tan and darker hair.
He was Jeremy without the Jeremy parts.
If he wasn't Jeremy, who was he?
"Scout." Medic's voice brought him out of his stupor.
He blinked and looked up from the magazine he was looking at, seeing Medic stare at him through hooded eyes. There were prominent bags beneath his eyes, and his glasses, that made it back onto his face, were resting on his forehead. His clothes were covered in dry blood, caused by cleaning up Demo and Jeremy's wounds, and there were splotches of oil that he wasn't sure came from what. The Medi-gun, maybe?
Demo and Jeremy's snores were the only noises heard, Sniper sitting in the corner of the room. Scout wasn't sure if he fell asleep or if he was looking at them. Either way, he stayed unmoving since Demo and Jeremy fell asleep.
"I need to talk to you."
Scout straightened and placed the magazine on the counter, staring at the doctor, confusedly. "Uh, yeah, sure, about what?"
He nodded to the door. "Privately."
The Boston blinked, trying to get the remnants of the double vision caused by his dissociation from his sight. He slowly nodded, standing up and trailing after him.
"What about Sniper?" He asked, the Australian in question not hearing their conversation. Thankfully.
"I doubt there's anything worth stealing that he could figure out." Answered the Medic.
"And the Medi-gun?"
"That can wait."
After they left the room and the door shut with a click, Medic and Scout stared at each other. The younger man wasn't sure what Medic wanted. It wasn't often they had one-on-one conversations, not because they didn't get along, but mostly because Medic liked being left to his own devices and Scout liked to do his own thing.
Still, if Medic wanted a conversation with someone, it meant something has been bothering him.
He moved to the wall opposite the med-bay door, leaning against it while Medic stood by the door. The hallway was long, and it made him slightly self-conscious. Even so, he stayed put instead of asking to move somewhere else.
"So, uh, what's up?"
"Earlier, after we got off the call with Frau Pauling, you said 'it's alright to be a clone.' You know that's not true."
Oh, so that's what he wanted to talk about. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes, instead scuffing the tip of his shoe and gazing down at the ground. "Yeah, yeah, I know, ya keep bringing that up. Sorry for saying that. I know how much ya hate being called a clone."
"It's not that I just hate it, junge, it's that we aren't clones." He stated.
"Doc-"
He raised a finger. "I am not Humboldt Ludwig, Spy is not Jacques Morneau, Soldier is not Jane Doe, Demo is not Tavish Degroot, we are not any of them. You are not Jeremy, Scout."
Scout's eyes slightly widened, and he felt a pang in his chest at the words.
He wasn't Jeremy.
Panic began filling his mind, Medic's words muting and obscuring into the back of his mind.
He wasn't Jeremy.
Who was he then if he wasn't Jeremy?
He wasn't Jeremy.
Medic continued, unaware of the panic he caused. "—Spy always told you-you were something better, Jeremy isn't better, junge-"
"How would you know?" Scout uttered, voice so low it could've been mistaken for a whisper. It almost hurt to force the words out, as if he were choking on them.
He wasn't Jeremy.
"What do you mean?" Questioned Medic.
"How would you know if Jeremy wasn't better?" He gritted his teeth and glared up at Medic, seeing the older man look at him in surprise. "Jeremy is everything I'm not."
He wasn't Jeremy.
Medic became quiet.
"I'm tired of lettin' you and Spy tell me what's better or not. What if I want to be a clone of Jeremy?"
He wasn't Jeremy.
"A clone of Jeremy? You can do for much better than Jeremy-"
He continued despite Medic's words, the corner of his eyesight tunnel visioning and doubling. He felt like he was dizzy, marinetting his own body. It was difficult to focus on anything besides his own panic and grievances.
"I ain't—I'm just the bad parts of Jeremy, a cheap copy; if I were him, I woulda had something outside of this mercenary work. I woulda been- I woulda been looked at—like... something that isn't just a bad product."
They were easily replaced. Whether they survive this monster, they'll be killed. The only way for them to avoid being killed is if the Medic somehow saves everyone and kills that monster. But bombs, fire, and bullets don't do anything against it. Heavy, the strongest out of all of them, was killed by that thing.
Scout hadn't seen the monster yet, but if what the REDs were saying was true and Miss Pauling was right, they were screwed. Completely fucked.
Their only options is to run or be eaten by that thing, and even if they do survive, he, Spy, and Medic will be killed by the Administrator and-or Pauling because they had valuable information and nothing to stop them from spilling it.
Not to mention that they would've inevitably died and been replaced by new clones. It was surprising that they've been kept alive for so long, especially given how faulty they were in the cold.
Medic frowned. "We are not bad products."
"Why can't ya admit we are?" Scout asked desperately, trying to get the German to see his point.
"We aren't clones."
"We are."
"We aren't clones."
"We are!"
"We aren't clones-"
"We are clones!" Scout retorted. "You're the only one who's in denial here!"
"I'm in denial? We are not clones." Medic repeated, as if he were a parrot, repeating the last sentence as if it were his only lifeline.
"We are!"
"I'm not Medic-"
"You are!"
"I'm not."
Scout exasperatedly waved in his direction, scanning him up and down for any mistakes. Any flaws that could point to Medic not being a clone. "It's in your coding! The only difference is your eyes! You were practically born sadistic—"
"Stop."
"Cruel—"
"Halt's Maul!"
"A Bastard—"
"Ich bin nicht Sani!"
"Medic!" Scout concluded with a sneer.
As Medic and Scout stared at each other, the hallway fell silent. The air between them was tight and rigid, neither of them breaking their frustrated gazes from each other.
"You're just like him," Scout said each word with a slight pause, practically shaking with rage. ''Least the rest of us can admit we're clones then forcin' the rest of us to go along with your crazy denial!"
"We aren't clones, Scout, we're-"
"We are!" Scout held his violently trembling arms out to Medic to get his point across. "We are! We are! We are!"
He hadn't realised just how deep in denial Medic was. Was Spy this deep in denial, too? Is that why they got along well? Because they didn't want to admit the obvious? Is that why they always told him he was something better? Because admitting he wasn't any better, that he was worse than the original, was harder than facing the truth?
"Ya have his memories, doc! You saw him make us!"
It was almost baffling to know that Medic was this deep in denial. He wasn't sure if his past words were trustworthy, if his encouragement and him telling him that he was his own person was trustworthy. Was any of what Spy and Medic say trustworthy?
'You're something better,' that's what Spy always told him.
How was he something better if they couldn't admit they were cheap copies?
"Ya are Humboldt, doc! We're just cheap copies! Clones!"
"Scout."
"We were made from- from something, but I sure as hell know we weren't made from expensive material, that's for sure!"
"Stop."
"Doc-"
Scout's next words died on his tongue as he stared at Medic's twisted face, feeling his heart hammer in his ears.
Medic was glaring at him, his face contorted in pure rage, his expression containing more wrath than he had ever seen on the man.
It was as if the dead face he wore was a mask, with this deep-rooted fury lurking beneath it.
It was like Scout was staring at the real Medic.
Something ugly writhed in his pale blue eyes, and the luminescent light that cast a shadow over his face didn't dim that expression of unbridled rage. It only served to chill Scout to his core.
"I'm. Not. Medic." He stated in a steely tone.
Scout wanted to argue, wanted to say that they were clones and were worthless in everyone's eyes. But he couldn't say anything, too afraid, too frozen in place. He took another step back and slid along the wall.
He looked down the hall, then back at Medic, whose expression remained unchanged. Should he run? He wanted to run, but he wasn't sure if it would irritate Medic even more.
The moment lasted only a few seconds before Medic—that's not Medic. That was not Medic. He was too unnatural to be the Medic—turned slowly and walked almost too calmly down the hallway.
His footsteps reverberated in the concrete halls, heels clicking methodically.
He watched Medics' back disappear down the long corridor, frozen in place, with nothing but panic, puzzlement, and anxiety swirling through his mind and chest.
His ears picked up the sound of his heart pounding, and he unclenched muscles he hadn't realised were tense, exhaling heavily and shakily. He briefly wondered if his beating heart could be heard, if that's what saved him from whatever the hell happened with Medic, but the moment faded, leaving him standing alone.
What. The. Fuck.
What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What. The. Fuck.
What the actual fuck was that?
Silence pervaded the hall, Medic having completely disappeared from view. He stood in the same spot, vibrating anxiously. He wanted to run in the opposite direction of where Medic left, wanted to get as far as he could, but his feet planted him to the spot, fear taking over his mind.
Whoever the hell that, that wasn't Medic.
Sure, Scout had a tendency to annoy everyone, but Medic was always impossible to make angry that he gave up, eventually. Everyone had something that made them tick. Medic had nothing and so he was under the assumption that he was just that calm and collected.
So what the fuck was that shit?
He didn't leave the hallway, instead re-entering the med-bay again in a more robotic manner that went unnoticed by Australian. He automatically peered over the room in case Sniper did anything while they were gone. Nothing was out of place, Jeremy and Demo were still asleep, and Sniper was still sitting in the corner, staring off into space.
He let out another shaky breath, relieving himself of the anxiety he had felt earlier, as he walked back to where he had previously been sitting. Medic's angry expression still remained in his mind, and he wondered if he should just run from the med-bay before he returned.
Medic'll definitely come back and shoot him. He doesn't know how petty the guy is, so he didn't want to chance it.
But he also didn't want to stroll through the base with that thing around. As much as he was gung-ho about shooting stuff in the face, he didn't feel like fighting against a thing that bullets couldn't kill. He was a moron, not an idiot.
He needed to distract his mind and get his thoughts off of that face. His eyes were steeled—icier than he'd ever seen them, and he appeared sadistic. Truly sadistic. It was like his eyes were evil. Right. He needed a distraction.
Scout looked around the room and noticed a bookcase. He contemplated taking a book, looking back at Sniper, and then at the bookshelf. He wasn't going to talk to RED Sniper to distract himself, no matter how desperately he needed to get that image out of his head. But books were also boring.
Was Medic going to kill him? That thought flashed through his mind as Medic loomed over him. Death isn't a permanent thing here, but the implications were enough to make him fearful.
A person who was angry enough to murder.
Medic, who he's come to see as a guide on the team, killing him out of pure anger over being called a clone.
…
Reading it was, then.
Scout approached the bookshelf, noticing Sniper tensed from his sudden movement and gripping the handle of his Kukri. The younger man caught his gaze and smirked disparagingly, then returned to the bookshelf and examined the titles.
There was an abundance of German, Russian, and French literature. Likely because Heavy, Spy, and Medic were the only ones who ever read.
He pulled the spine back and read the title, then pushed it back into place before pulling out another. He continued this process, looking for a book that piqued his interest when he came across 'Crime and Punishment.'
Scout opened the front page and read the introduction; he noticed that it was Russian literature, most likely Heavy's. He wondered if the big guy was okay with him touching one of his books. Probably. Because the guy was probably already dead.
He hunched over from the depressing thought. He didn't want to believe they had died. But it's been too long. They would've found them by now. Scout knew that losing people was common in mercenary work, but these were people he had come to consider family. Maybe Sniper and Spy were right to distance themselves. Still, emotions were a tricky thing; he can't really control who he gets close to or not.
Before Scout could spiral even more into his anxious thoughts, Sniper's sudden voice made him flinch. "Thought ya didn't read." Sniper says in a quiet voice.
He forced himself to relax and returned the man's gaze with slightly wide eyes. Scout's response was curt. "I didn't."
"What changed?" He asked.
The clone looked at Sniper with wariness. He wasn't sure if he would use this against him, but after a moment of observing him, he figured it wouldn't hurt to answer. There wasn't much he could do with this information, anyway.
"During a mission, uh, outside of the RED and BLU thing, Spy got caught 'cause of my stupid ass and I couldn't read a passcode to get 'im out." Scout cringed at the memory and forced his gaze back to the open page of the book. "Bad time basically, and afta that mission, he got tired of my ass not reading and forced me to learn."
"Mission?" Sniper asked, looking at him with sudden interest. "Ya go on missions?"
"Yeah? 'Least I did, stopped going on much after me and Miss-" he stopped himself and frowned. "Whenever you REDs ain't available, we go on missions. We're still clones, y'know. We can do what you can do. Me and Medic are the only ones who don't go on much missions. Snipes, Spy, and Engineer go on the most."
"Huh." Sniper hummed noncommittally. He then slightly tilts his head to read the cover of the book, querying. "'Crime And Punishment,' ya ever read it before?"
He shakes his head. "Nah. 'Parently, it's 'bout a guy killing a pawn dealer and her sister. Main dude goes through it 'cause of guilt or whatever. Beats me." He shrugged afterwards and closed the book, sliding it back into the place it was originally in.
"Sounds boring." He hummed after saying.
"Yeah, it is boring."
"What kind of missions do you go on?" He inquired.
"What is this? An interrogation?" Scout questioned, narrowing his eyes in wariness.
Sniper's answer was honest. "Yeah."
"Huh?"
"I don't trust ya. I don't trust your Medic." He started, grumbling, as he peered at Scout through the shadows his hat caused. "You two wouldn't be this welcoming without a reason. You're too friendly towards me for telling me you were going to destroy our respawn machine and kill us all just a few hours ago."
Scout remained silent and looked at another book in thought, his frown deepening. He pulled out the book and flipped open the page, closing it when it didn't interest him and lingering on putting it back. Sniper was right, he was acting too friendly with him. Though he wasn't sure why that was.
Was it because he was the original? Or because he was Sniper? Maybe he just wanted to have a normal conversation with one of the originals and Sniper was the unfortunate victim. Or maybe it was because he hadn't spoken to old Sniper in a couple of years before he became more distant.
"Ya know," Scout began, fiddling with a page corner of the book. "our Snipes always went to the broken payphone near the base every weekend. Every. Week."
He slid the book back into place and pulled out another one.
"He didn't have a reason to, since we got no family or friends to worry 'bout us. But he always just picked it up and stood still for hours."
Sniper stayed mute, but Scout knew that he understood what he was alluding to. It wasn't hard to figure out the implications.
"I do the same too. So does Heavy." He scratched his chin. "I dunno 'bout the others, but the three of us just stand at the payphone. Dunno who we're expecting to answer us. All we get from that phone is just "this phone is out of service." To the world, we're dead men walking."
"He should quit picking up the phone." Sniper said instead of indulging him.
Which was fair; Scout would find it creepy too if a subhuman tried calling his family.
"Y'know, I called your Scout's family once; we've all called your families."
That caught Sniper's attention. Scout seeing his eyes widen as he whipped his head up to stare at him with a look equivalent to panicked shock. His fingers were curling around his knife, and Scout continued without taking his sudden and silent threat into account.
"I snuck over to your payphone, 'cause no matter which base we go to, our payphones always broken." No doubt Miss 'bitch' Pauling's doing. They had a strict ban on not telling anyone about their clone situation. "When I tried callin' Scout's family, it was his brother that answered. I hadn't heard his voice in months."
His brother's voice was still vivid in his mind. If he hadn't hung up, he would've cracked and spilled everything. He would've begged for Jeremy's family to accept him. Or he would've followed through with his thoughts and destroyed the respawn machine to kill Jeremy and take his place.
"I hung up, though, couldn't even say hi at all." His smile was apathetic, eyes hollow, when he pulled out another book. "Snipes stuck it out, though, came back to the base and wouldn't speak to us for weeks."
Sniper eyed him suspiciously, the silence prompting Scout to continue.
"Y'know, I don't think he ever got over it. Having to lose his family that he never had. You're a lot more, uh, what's the word, happier than he is."
Confusion replaced the suspicion.
"Snipes got more… cruel."
He didn't know how to describe Snipes after he got off that call with Sniper's family.
Talking to BLU Sniper was like talking to a brick wall, and when they managed to squirm any emotion from him, it was always only annoyance. Not frustration or anger, but just annoyance. It was like all the fun was sapped from him. He was more emotionless than Medic. Which was an achievement in itself.
"He quit smiling, quit playing around and quit talking to us. It took a lot of effort to even get him to eat dinner with us, but even then he barely talked to us. I think it clocked in for him that we ain't got anyone to return to."
It took his and Miss Pauling's argument to realise that, but Sniper coming to that conclusion was his breaking point. It was everyone's breaking point. If it weren't for him and Spy getting along, everyone would've remained in that depressive cycle.
At one point, Heavy almost destroyed the respawn machine to kill himself, saying that it was pointless to be alive and a mercenary if his sisters would never care for his existence. His sacrifices meant nothing, his goals meant nothing. Everyone had a similar breaking point, but Spy, as always, was the one to reel everyone back. He had nothing before, and being a clone changed nothing in the long run. It only allowed him to act more freely.
He missed Jeremy's ma, sure, but he knew he would've had to eventually leave her for her safety.
Sniper brought him back from his thoughts. "I don't care how much you bastards miss your "families," if you know any better, you'll tell your Sniper to knock it off." He threatened, tone cruel and practically white-knuckled the handle of his knife.
Scout sighed. He didn't expect much pity from him, anyway. "It ain't that easy, man. Losing people you never had is hard ta accept. 'Sides, he quit callin' your parents, anyway."
"Why're ya even telling me this?" He asked, eyeing him with the same level of suspiciousness as earlier.
Scout shrugged. "Just thought I'd tell someone, since we're gonna die, anyway."
"What do you mean?"
He gave him an incredulous look. "What do you mean what do I mean?"
"That we're gonna die anyway?" He echoed.
"I ain't talkin' 'bout you. I'm talkin' 'bout us." He answered with a roll of his eyes. "We're clones, we got strict rules to never let anyone know we're clones, we're easily disposable, and if we even survive that monster, unless Medic somehow figures out a way to fix whatever happened, there's no way Miss bitch and that old hag Administrator's gonna let us walk outta here alive with how much shit we got on 'em."
There was little chance of running away now, especially since Sniper was likely dead. He was the team's golden goose in case they needed to unionise and flee since he had experience hiding his tracks.
Without him, he, Medic, and whoever was still alive would have to rely on Spy, which he suspects the Administrator and Miss Pauling already knew, so they'd kill him before killing the remaining BLUs.
Sniper hummed. "Makes sense. Better to dispatch the clones than let 'em wander off to who knows where. I'd do the same since your Sniper has information on me."
He wasn't sure why, since he understood where he was coming from, but the callous yet truthful words gave him a sense of dread.
"Yup." Scout popped the 'p.'
Sniper then furrowed his brows and looked confusedly at Scout. "Miss bitch?"
"Yeah?"
"Nah, it's just, thought you'd be head over heels for her. But ya said earlier you wanted her dead, so…" He shrugged as he said so.
Scout made a disgusted face, feelings of self-pity and anger swarming his chest. "Fuck that. The bitch could go die for all I care."
"Damn."
Scout scoffed in amusement, looking down at the book he picked up before sliding it back into its place. It was surprisingly easy to talk to RED Sniper, like they've always been friends.
At one point, he was friends with his Sniper. He was a cool guy before he let depression get to him. So it'd make sense he gets along with this Sniper. But it was still RED Sniper. Not to mention he just said he'd kill them if he could because of the information they have on him.
Scout then fell silent and stuffed his hands in his pocket, looking away from him and at the books. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so chatty today. It was probably because of his breakdown from earlier, and probably because this would be the last time he'll get to talk to someone before becoming monster bait.
He let out a heavy sigh. This was the worst freakin' day ever, and it hasn't even been a full 24 hours yet.
Scout was about to continue his conversation with Sniper when RED Scout decided to have the worst timing ever. He heard a soft groan, blinking and looking at Sniper with a quirked brow; when he expressed the same sentiment, they heard it again and looked over to Jeremy's bed.
Jeremy shifted in his position, his eyelashes fluttering open as he groaned and rolled in bed, kicking the sheet off himself. Sniper straightened and approached him, Scout's eyes widening.
Jeremy continued making soft groaning noises, as Scout came up beside Sniper, who was leaning over the Boston with slight panic and puzzlement. His body and expression practically screamed 'what the hell do I do?'
Scout wacked Sniper's upper arm a couple of times, his voice gradually becoming higher as he ordered him to get Medic. "I dunno where he ran off, but go get Medic."
"You get 'im, he's your Medic." Sniper said.
"He's pissed at me. I ain't wanting to die right now!"
"I don't want to die either." Sniper hissed.
"Dude, I know the doc, he won't kill ya." Yet. "He ain't like that. He's just petty as hell."
"I'm not leavin' you alone with Scout."
"What is he, your lover? I ain't gonna kill 'im s'much I like to. Quit talkin' and go already!" Scout said, repeatedly hitting his arm to get him to leave. Sniper tried arguing back, though Scout ignored him.
Jeremy kept stirring, and he was blearily looking around the room, suddenly sitting up and letting out a short scream as he held his arm. Scout grabbed the originals arm to stop him from clawing off his bandages, seeing Sniper lunge forward to stop him when Scout used his other arm to hold Sniper's face.
"I ain't doin' nothin'! He was gonna claw off his bandages and- just get the doc already!" Scout felt Jeremy resist against his grip and he gritted his teeth, trying to keep the other man from clawing his arm off. "Can ya knock it off?! I'm tryna get ya to not kill yourself!"
It was then that Demo came forward and held the wrist of Jeremy's free arm, the three looking at Demo in shock. The Scot looked tiredly between them, looking as if he acted before fully comprehending what happened, and his next words confirmed that.
"The feck is happenin'?" Demo asked with a scowl.
"Don't matta right now!" Scout yelled slightly, glaring at Sniper, who was looking between the three with furrowed eyebrows. "Just go already!"
Why the hell was he being the responsible one right now?
Sniper looked between the three, at Demoman, and pinched his lips in thought. He remained silent as he slowly backed away, keeping a wary eye on the scene. After a second, he turned completely away and jogged out of the room, his footsteps fading down the halls as Scout returned his attention to Jeremy and Demoman.
Jeremy was groaning and hanging his head, attempting to scratch his bandages, as Demo began to slowly recognise his surroundings, waking up a bit more since being rudely awakened.
"How long 'ave I been asleep for?" He asked.
Scout shrugged. "Beats me, kinda dealin' with other shit. Still dark out, though."
"Not long, then?"
"Just said I don't know."
"The feck were you lot being loud for then?"
"Your Sniper was being stupid s'all. Seriously, that guy wouldn't stop gettin' all worked up. S'not like I was gonna kill his boyfriend or whatever." Scout rolled his eyes as he spoke, looking back at Jeremy, who was becoming more lucid, before gazing back at the baffled Demoman. "I mean, what's up with him? Why's he so protective of youse? Our Sniper would just let us die or some crap. Kind of. Not really. But ya get my point, he's "professional" or something. Thought your Sniper liked professionalism or some crap."
"Nah, wait, go back, boyfriend?" Demoman made a slightly disgusted face. "I don't wanna imagine Sniper and Scout gobbin' each other's faces."
Scout made a sour face. "Ew. Great. Thanks for putting that image in my head."
"Ye put the image in me head first." He pointed out.
"Still gross." He muttered.
"Aye." Demo frowned slightly as he looked at Jeremy's arm. "Looks like the blood soaked through the arm. Ye gonna do something about it?"
Scout glanced at Jeremy's arm and became queasy as he noticed the shade of red starting to seep through the gauze. He didn't do well with blood, despite being a mercenary, and he only felt worse for having this kind of childish fear. Jeremy didn't have the same problem, which only added to his list of growing flaws as a clone. Though he was fortunate that no one else knew he had this kind of problem, because then he could stomp out the emotion before it became a problem.
"Uh, yeah, yeah, sure, totally." He answered.
He swallowed a gag, nausea suffocating his throat, as he looked around the room and noticed a towel on the counter. The younger man leaned towards the counter, his fingers grazing the towel and frowning when he couldn't fully grasp it. He tried again and again before a weight was suddenly lifted from his hip, forcibly starting forward.
He let out a feeble gasp but stopped himself while simultaneously gripping the towel, pinching his brows in confusion as he looked back at the two.
Scout heard the click before registering the scene.
"Ah, crap," Scout said mutedly.
The barrel of Spy's gun was angled towards him, and Jeremy's grin was as cocky as it was crooked in pain.
There were no words exchanged between them, no time, as there was a crack in the air. He felt his body hit the ground, ringing invading his ears, before silence and darkness enveloped him.
Sniper rushed towards Medic, who was facing away from him. He wasn't far from the medical bay, thankfully, but it was still a two-minute run back.
"Medic!" He called.
True to his Medic instincts, he pulled out his gun and whipped around to face Sniper with alertness. "Who's hurt?"
"Good to know that instinct hasn't changed." Sniper responded, his sprint turning into a light jog as he approached the German. "Scout's awake; he was tryna pull out his bandages."
Medic followed suit without question, lightly jogging behind Sniper as they approached the room. When they reached the second hallway and heard a bullet shot reverberate down the corridor, they picked up their speed.
By the time Medic and Sniper entered the room, BLU Scout had vanished, leaving RED Scout sitting on the bed and holding Spy's revolver. There was blood on the ground, and Demoman was arguing with him.
"—Am tryin' to tell ya, lad, ya didn't need to do that!" Demo exclaimed, groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Didn't need- he was threatenin' me!"
"He wasn't. He was tryna stop you from clawin' off yer bandages!"
"He was pretty threatenin' 'bout it!"
Medic interrupted the petty argument, frowning. "I would appreciate it if you didn't shoot me, either."
RED Scout jumped and crawled back in the bed, gazing at the Medic as he yelled. "What the hell?! How long've you been there, ya freak?!"
"Long enough to know you shot my Scout." He answered, then glanced at his arm. "And how is your arm doing?"
"You aren't angry he shot your Scout?" Sniper asked.
Medic walked towards the Boston, grabbing a rag from the counter and wiping away as much remnants of oil and dry blood as he could from his hands. The three stared at the surprisingly calm man, becoming further surprised at his words. "I was going to do so myself earlier. This saves me the trouble."
"Well, whatever the case, did ya fix up the Medi-gun?" Demo inquired, tilting his head to look at the object in question.
"Not yet. I'll need parts from your Medic's Medi-gun to have it properly functioning." He answered, looking at the gun with a slight tilt to the corner of his mouth. He then lightly shook his head and peered back at the three. "Nevertheless, I'll need to check over your wound again."
"Uh, sure, when pigs fly." Scout said, leaning away from him and tightly gripping the revolver.
"I'd rather you don't die on my hospital bed, then."
"Wait, mate, go back. Ya said you needed parts from the doc's Medi-gun?" Asked Sniper.
"Ja."
Sniper sighed through his nose. "We don't know where the doc or his Medi-gun is. I reckon you'll have more luck with building the parts yourself."
He looked at the Australian incredulously, displaying more emotion and passion than he had been in the previous few minutes. "Build the parts- I am not an engineer, Herr Sniper; I can't simply build parts from scratch, let alone parts for the Medi-gun. Not to mention that your Medic's gun requires different parts to be combined in order to heal both your and my teams."
Sniper slowly blinked in surprise, mutedly nodding. "Yeah, and what do you suppose we do 'bout that, then?"
"We needed to go back to our base, anyway." Demo said.
"What?!" Scout exclaimed as he straightened, looking at him as if he were the most insane man alive. "Are ya crazy?! Afta everything that happened?! Ya wanna go back to the base where it's at?!"
"We would have needed to look for it, anyway." Medic tossed the rag onto the counter again, ignoring the disbelieving looks shot his way.
The three men's voices clambered over each other, their yelling becoming increasingly louder in volume as they spoke over each other as if to one up one another. Medic couldn't discern what any of them were saying, and stayed silent until they calmed down.
"Are you done?"
"Are ya batshit insane, ya daft bastard?!" Demo exclaimed as he looked terrified at the idea. "There's nothing we can do against that thing!"
"Not unless I figure something out."
"There's nothing you can do against that thing!" Scout cried out in blatant fear, his eyes blown wide. "Let's just get outta here before that thing comes after us!"
"I can't." Medic firmly stated.
He hadn't found his teammates yet, but he suspected that the monster had taken them. If that was the case, he had to figure out how to save them. Leaving them behind wasn't an option for him.
They tried to argue, but Medic interrupted with a harsh stare. "We'll talk about this when we get there. I'll need to speak with Scout and re-bandage his wounds. Can you go find my Scout while I do so." He stated unequivocally, leaving no room for disagreement. Despite his firm stance, Sniper and Demo were always quick to speak up.
"Why should we?" Sniper asked. "The bugger can just find us 'imself."
"I'd rather not have him out of my sight, especially if what you say is true about that monster."
"Aye, I'll go look for 'im then." Demoman agreed and groaned as he stood up, gazing at Sniper. "'Least we can do when they've let us stay with 'em."
The Sniper's frown deepened. He remained silent and tilted his head to the side, gazing down at his feet in silent debate. He sighed and stood up soon after. Glancing reluctantly back at Scout, who shook his head, closing his eyes after in defeat.
"Let's just go."
"We'll be back soon; don't kill our Scout yet." Demo spoke lightheartedly or as jokingly as he could, with an undertone of threat in his words.
"Ja." Medic confirmed.
He didn't have a reason to kill RED Scout either, since he still needed information from him and they were under a ceasefire. He wasn't a stickler for rules, but it'd be easier to be cordial with the REDs.
"What? No, don't leave me here with him!" Scout stated, his eyes darting between the BLU Medic and the two REDs approaching the door.
"Mate, ya got a gun and can run faster than 'im; you'll be fine." Sniper placated.
Demo, however, remained silent despite Scout's pleas. Medic figured he understood that Scout didn't have a chance against him after holding a knife to his throat.
"We'll be back soon." The Australian said.
Neither Medic nor Demo mentioned that it typically took forty minutes to wander around the base.
The two reluctantly left the room, and both Medic and Scout were left staring at each other.
Both said nothing until Medic sighed and glanced at the gun.
"Can you put that away?" He asked.
"Over my dead body." He bit back, scrunching his nose as he pulled the revolver closer to his body.
"I can't bandage your arm unless I know I can trust you," Medic responded.
"Yeah? Then what if I just shoot those doves of yours?" Scout tested.
Medic grimaced and resisted the urge to drag a hand down his face. "I hate birds." That was a flat out lie, but he wasn't going to admit that to Scout.
"Wait, wait, ya hate birds?" He asked in a baffled tone. "No, I don't believe you. There's no way you hate birds."
"Will you let me work on your arm? Or would you rather bleed out?" He queried.
"I ain't doing anythin' 'till you tell me what you mean 'cause there's no way ya hate birds."
Medic pinched his lips before slowly shaking his head. "I'm assuming you've had a run-in with that monster, too?" He abruptly changed the subject, since they were getting nowhere with this conversation.
It was then that the RED Scout appeared hesitant and uneasy at the question, shifting every so often to fill the empty space. He was more animated, Medic observed, and less likely to listen to what he had to say. Medic hadn't dealt with the old Scout in a long time, and he wasn't looking forward to it.
Old Scout was more stubborn and steadfast in his beliefs and goals. Not to mention the old Scout despised doctor visits. It was like pulling teeth, if he could get near the teeth at all.
All the mercs were reluctant to go to the doctor, Scout and Soldier being the worst, and while it took a long time to persuade them to get checkups, he eventually convinced them that he was an alright doctor.
RED Medic fucked him over by making them fearful of doctors. RED Medic fucked him over in general. There was just misconception after misconception of Medic and that he was a sadistic guy. He wouldn't lie and say he wasn't, but he was far more sane than most of the mercs.
Moronic crazy went to Soldier and Scout. Cold insane were the only ways to describe Engineer and Spy. Crazy bastards described Sniper and Demoman on the surface. Enthusiastically crazy were the best ways to describe Medic, Heavy, and Pyro. But that was only describing the REDs.
Everyone on the BLU team was more of an angry kind of crazy.
From what he's seen so far, RED hasn't changed, so he wasn't too eager to deal with RED Scout.
"What about it?" Scout tested, eyeing him suspiciously.
Medic quirked a brow, stuffing his hands in his pockets, to which Scout responded by tensing his shoulders.
"Seeing as your arm melted, I need to know the details of what happened when you encountered that monster." He explained.
Scout made a weird face. "The hell's with your accent, anyway, it's so… weird."
Medic decided to let Scout deflect the question.
"That's what happens when you spend so much time out of Germany." Medic states. It was partially true, seeing as he hadn't been in Germany for several years, but also because he didn't want to sound similar to RED Medic.
"Yeah? Well quit it, it's weird." He bluntly states.
Medic spoke slowly, emphasising each word in an American accent. "Would this be better?"
"Ugh, quit that."
The doctor continued speaking in an American accent. He'll have to thank Soldier for the lessons later. "Can you recount to me your experience with that monster? I'm aware you, Soldier, Demoman, and Engineer encountered it, but the lack of details is making it difficult to understand."
"Alright, ew, just quit talking with that weird voice and I'll tell you!" Scout said.
Medic sat across from him, the chair creaking under his weight, as Scout fell silent and shifted again. His lips were pinched in a straight line, and he sighed a moment later.
"Me, Pyro, and Heavy were hanging outside, yeah? Ripped my arm off, and it looked rad as hell! I looked cool. Ya just had to be there to see it. So I ripped my arm off, did this cool backflip off'a the big guy, and I totally won that fight. Oh, man, my skills totally impressed Pyro, and Heavy, yes Heavy, complimented me about how rad I looked, ripping my arm off. Shoulda took a picture and got the moment framed. So after I win that fight-"
Medic sighed through his nose but remained expressionless. He forgot about Scout's tendency to brag about himself. "Scout." He interrupted, giving him a blank stare that caused him to squirm and tense up again.
"Alright, alright, quit givin' me that look. It's creepy as shit. So afta I beat the big guy, I walk off when…" Mid-explanation, he faltered, looking at the ground with a slightly terrified expression that he soon muffled with a cocky grin. "Right, so that thing was totally weird, and… and uh…"
"Describe it." Medic asked.
Scout's grin faltered. "I, uh, it looked huge, like, gigantic kinda huge. Uh… there were arms and shit stickin' outta it. Probably 'cause it ate someone else. And uh…" he licked his lips and became quiet.
"I don't have time-"
"Look, I don't know how ta explain it, alright? Thing's creepy and it did something to Heavy and Pyro."
Medic shoved down his frustration and pushed for more information. "I'm trying to find out what it did to them."
"It… sucked 'em in?"
The Medic gave him a dry look, to which he responded by scrunching his nose and crossing his arms.
"I just said I don't know how to explain it!" He said. "Don't gimme that look. Snipes already tried that distrustful shit and he had to cut my arm off 'cause of it!"
"I'm giving you this look because Demo said the exact same thing as you." He answered exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
It was a pain talking to the old Scout again.
"Just… explain what happened from the beginning. Don't go off track."
Scout frowned. "I was fightin' with Heavy while Pyro was hangin' 'round, and I ran into that thing. It freakin' sucked up my arm when I threw it at it, and I ran back to Heavy and Pyro. Heavy tried fightin' the thing when he was sucked up by it."
"Did he do anything to it?" He inquired.
"That's the freaky bit. His punches did nothin'. Booked it outta there with Pyro when we ended up in a shed. Couldn't get out of there since there weren't any windows and our only exit was the door, but obviously couldn't leave 'cause that thing was outside. Tried to push down a bookshelf to block the door, but Pyro was being a little pansy and wouldn't move. Dunno why. Probably got freaked out 'cause his flare gun didn't work against the thing."
Medic furrowed his eyebrows. Not only was it resistant to Heavy's punches and bullets, but fire as well? The more he heard about this monster, the more he began to think that it wasn't real. But the only thing preventing him from calling them all crazy was that Miss Pauling backed them up, and for all the trouble she gave the BLU team, she wasn't a liar.
"Engineer found us later, dunno how, but he led the thing away and got us outta there. When we ran, Pyro got grabbed by one of those limb things stickin' out of it, and he…"
Scout trailed off.
"What happened?" He inquired.
"Just… lemme think, alright?" He asked, staring at his legs with a discernible expression. "Engineer tried stickin' 'round to save him and I didn't want to leave him, 'cause he's smart, right? Can do all that weird robotic shit, and he could help with whatever's going on 'cause his pops or whatever built the respawn machine. Basically, dude's got brains. So I knocked him out and took him with me."
"What happened to Pyro?" Medic asked him again.
"Look, I'm gettin' there."
"Get there faster."
"I freakin' left him!" He blurted, glaring at Medic as his brows pinched together and his nose scrunched. There was that habit again that both Scouts had, which was scrunching their nose when they were annoyed. "Happy? He was already being sucked into the thing! I wasn't 'bout to play hero and try to pull him out when Heavy's fuckin' punches couldn't even land a blow! The big guy couldn't even pull himself outta the thing's grip either!"
Medic stayed quiet and looked at the ground in contemplation. It was probably for the best that he left Pyro to die to save Engineer, since if Engineer was still alive, then they'd be able to figure out how to kill the monster quicker.
He looked back at the squirming Scout, expressionless. Despite having his moments, Scout wasn't an idiot. He grew up in the bad parts of Boston from what his Scout told him. He was also a sports fan, and Medic never met a sports fan who didn't know strategy. He was fast, meaning he had to work out strategy quickly, which also meant trusting his instincts.
He was more impressive in that manner than both spies were. In fact, he was more impressive than all of them combined, including his own Scout. Despite the praise he gives BLU Scout, even Scout wouldn't and could never amount to RED Scout's cleverness, no matter how much he tries to be more like RED Scout.
Still, even with that knowledge, he left Pyro behind. There weren't any guarantees he wouldn't do the same to all of them, especially after he shot Scout for being "threatening."
The doctor straightened, and he placed his handle on his gun, the younger man's eyes darting between him and the gun, as he backed away as far as he could on a bed.
He gripped the revolver and whipped the revolver up towards his head, like he was in a cowboy shoot off. He would've been impressed at how quickly drew the revolver if it weren't for him squeezing the trigger.
For a split second, Medic thought he was going to die, and the thought of meeting up with Scout quicker flashed through his mind.
When, almost mousily, he heard a soft 'click.'
Then another few clicks.
Scout looked aghast at the revolver.
It was empty.
Medic sighed quietly. "If you left Pyro behind, we can't trust you to be around us at the current moment." Who knew if Scout would leave them to die if he saw fit. It was best to distance him from them for now.
"I won't betray you!" He defended. "He was already being eaten by the thing! Nothin' I could do 'sides get me and Engie the hell outta there! Seriously! The monster friggin' sucked him in and I thought he died or whatever, but he didn't."
Medic froze and stared at him puzzledly, pinching his brows and pulling the gun back. "What?"
"He- Pyro- he… he was still conscious! The dude was still fucking awake!"
The doctor continued to stare at him. Did he hit his head? No, Medic would've noticed a head injury when inspecting him earlier. He wasn't delirious from a lack of blood either, since he still had that blood bag attached to his arm. Not to mention that Medic knew the difference between genuine Scout and Scout trying to pull a prank.
"I heard all his bones snap and shit! All of 'em! I heard him stop screaming! Had to get Engie outta there 'cause the dude wouldn't stop tryna run towards Pyro!"
"Explain."
"He- they- I don't know! Everyone? I heard his voice with other people, they- he? He told me to rot in hell… I- that thing ate him and…" he trailed off in horror, eyes widening as he began to look nauseas with his skin increasingly paling. "He was eaten thinkin' I betrayed him."
"Stop speaking, you're not making any sense," Medic said.
Scout's breath hitched, and he leaned forward, covering his face as he spoke through his hands, disregarding Medic's words.
"Pyro, the crazy asshole, thought I betrayed him." He uttered. "Oh God, am I- did I just screw myself over? Is he comin' after me for revenge?"
Medic hit him over the head, rough enough to get his attention while remaining gentle enough not to cause too much damage. "Calm down, you're not making any sense. Breathe, think, and explain what it is you're talking about."
Scout jerkily nodded, swallowing thickly. He stared down at the revolver in horror, his chest lifting up and down rapidly as he collected himself. He closed his eyes in a grimaced thought, speaking slowly and with pauses in between.
"I thought Pyro died after that thing ate him. I heard his screams stop and everything. But… Pyro. He was awake, man. He told me to rot in hell after—"
There was a still silence between them when Scout admitted, his quiet voice contrasting with his usual boisterous shouts,
"After he merged with whatever the hell that monster was."
End notes:
Sorry for the late update! I was having difficulty writing this chapter because I couldn't figure out the direction I wanted to go with it. I'm not very proud of this chapter and you can tell there's some obvious rushing in it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! I also hope you like the new art style I'm trying! If there's enough love for it, I'll keep it!
Fun fact: that argument between Scout and Medic has been planned since chapter 4 and has been sizzling since then. I had to transport it from page to page, from chapter to chapter since I'm using google docs and I'm finally able to get rid of it! Yes! Though Medic being kind of insane wasn't planned, but I hope it works out well!
I also just found out having regulars for a fic isn't common, which is actually crazy to think about because all my fics always had at least one-five regulars. So I'm honestly appreciative to you guys for sticking this out with me! So thank you so much for liking my fic enough to stick around!