|TF2 Spy's Recruiting
Author: Herr Doktor PM
Now rewriting all chapters. REWRITTEN: CH1Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Mystery - Spy - Chapters: 19 - Words: 99,082 - Reviews: 46 - Favs: 16 - Follows: 13 - Updated: 12-11-12 - Published: 10-08-12 - id: 8594268
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
CrazyGirlMe: You are right! Medic represents myself! I really didn't intend for medic to get that much attention, since I dislike attention myself, but his weird symptoms that he shares with me sort of drew the spotlight to him. Thanks for the continued encouragement.
GUEST: Jarate and razorback can't go together? MY SNIPER DOESN'T CARE. XD And he'll ask heavy to care for him if you bug him. ;)
Now that I'm done rambling, enjoy the story. A little twist, a farm, some rats, and what the blue bloody hell is going on here?
I was awake. Midnight. Lately, it was really quite fortunate for me to actually get a full-night's sleep, and tonight I'd managed to shake off scout and sleep at ten. I'd last spotted him going to the med bay, probably to ask medic for that shortstop.
Something had woken me up. I wasn't sure what, and I strained to listen into the dark. My eyes adjusted to the gloom.
There was a chittering noise, the faint scraping of something against metal. I crept out of my bed and found my Ambassador gun. I checked that it was loaded and scanned my room.
Nothing was in my room, and I couldn't hear anything outside. Where was the noise coming from?
I stood and walked around, trying to pinpoint the scraping noise. The noise grew louder as I approached a corner of the room. I backed towards the wall, and stepped on something.
"YAH!" I yelped, setting off my gun by accident. The bullet flew and ricochet off the ceiling light, coming back towards me. I dodged, and the bullet hit the wall. Struggling to the light switch, I turned on the lamp.
A fat, furry white rat, (maybe a mouse?) sat in the corner of my room. It looked like someone had carelessly stepped on it(oops), and sat there, chattering away angrily. It was gnawing on something. I crouched and my eyes met the two tiny green orbs in its head. I looked at what it was chewing. A pen.
I sighed. Now I was awake at midnight, from a rat trying to swallow my pen. I flicked off the light switch and settled back to sleep. The chewing, grinding noise continued.
I bore it for maybe an hour, until my eyes were sore and likely red. Finally, I grabbed my gun and shot the miserable rodent. There was a squeak, and then a popping noise and all was silent. Peace, I hoped.
When morning came around, it had no respect for my desire to sleep in. The rude sunlight barged in through my window and assaulted my face. I crammed a pillow over my eyes and slept on, resolutely ignoring the light. I only got up a minute later because I was breathing in too much pillow, and too little air.
Sitting up, I stretched. My third week here, soon to be a month. I was quite bothered by how long the others had been here, since supposedly their contracts stated a few months. Some had been here years. I set that aside in my head and checked the time. It was winter, and it was eight. I was surprised scout hadn't woken me up. I donned my suit and nearly choked myself with my tie in haste. Then, I rushed out the door, dashing down the corridor to the kitchen. There was nobody there but medic.
Medic was sitting upright in a chair. He was nodding off, and when I entered, his head snapped up so quickly I heard a loud crack!
That has got to hurt.
"Ow!" medic muttered. Then he looked to me. "Awake at last, are you? I couldn't sleep much eighzer. Zhere vere rats crawling in my room, two of zem! Ze ozhers are watching soldier show off his new Direct-Hit rocket launcher."
"Ah. There was a rat in my room as well. Eet kept me up for an hour. I shot it," I answered, sitting down and looking at the medic.
Medic smiled tiredly. "Zhe corpse vill stink, you know?" He gestured with his hands. "It vill fall apart and if you leave it too long, it vill decompose. Zhen ze smell vill never, ever go avay."
"Sank you for the disgusting information. By the way, have you seen scout?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Vhy vould you care vhere scout is?"
I squirmed in my seat. His eyes, tired or not, seemed to drill into my head.
"Well, 'e usually wakes me up," I said.
He rolled his eyes. "And you expect him to do zhis every day? Vhat, is he your servant? Lycherlich!"
"What the hell does 'lycherlich' mean?" I grumbled. I grabbed a mug from the table. There was coffee in it.
"It means 'ridiculous'," he said flatly.
"You must teach me German some time," I said as I took a sip of the coffee. "What the hell is this?!"
"Oh zat! Zat is paint," medic said, completely emotionless. "Likely the toxins in it vill destroy your liver and kidney."
"Calm down, I jest!"
"You don't joke about people's organs shutting down," I angrily replied. "You shouldn't say that so straight-faced."
"You don't joke about zat?" he asked. He seemed genuinely surprised. Right then, his eyes shut briefly and he toppled over in his chair. I looked at his boots, which noew rested on the table.
"Er," I said. "Are 'ou alright?"
"I just fell off a chair? Do you think I'm alright?" His voice was muffled. "And zhere is piece of tablecloth in my mouth!"
I couldn't help but burst out laughing. I reached down and heaved the man up. He was insanely light. I'd guess around a hundred and twenty pounds? Hmm.
Medic glanced at the wall clock. "It is nearly nine," he murmured. "I must get ready for ze battle." He stormed off to his med bay and I went to my room. I put on my mask and checked my weapons. My sapper was acting strangely. It emitted a thin screeching noise when I turned it on. I fiddled with the power knob until it stopped, then slipped the devices into my pocket.
Outside, the men were all lined up, except sniper and medic. Sniper was probably on a roof somewhere, aiming at someone's head. Medic should be out here. Worried, I went back to the med bay. Medic was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall. He was asleep.
I grabbed him and slapped him. His eyes snapped open.
"Yah! Vat is it?!"
"You fell asleep," I told him. "We cannot have you sleeping on the field."
"You are right. Let me get something." He went to his desk and took a syringe full of purple liquid. With a swift movement, he injected it into his arm. He straightened, and his eyes stared straight ahead blankly. "Zhis…should keep me avake."
"So I see," I said, looking at his blank look. "Are you really okay?"
"Yes, yes, now let us go!" He pushed me out the door, and then made his way to the battlefield. Right then, the combat started.
The chaos at the start of a fight is only understood by those who were there. The very moment the alarm blares, bullets fly and tempers rise. I hurried forward. Pyro keeled over with a muffled scream. A bullet had slammed into his chest, and he collapsed. He was still.
"Damn it! The battle has just begun!" I growled. Our soldier launched a rocket off, but somehow it was flying back..at me! "What the-?"
I leapt to the side, and the projectile shot past, exploding against the walls of the building. Bullets whizzed past me. The enemy pyro held a shotgun and was letting fly with it. I felt some scrape my arm and blood splattered on the ground.
Heavy charged past, screaming. "RAAAHHHRR! COME fight ME, tiny man!" He lowered his massive gun and allowed bullets to fly. Screams of pain floated around the crisp, morning air. Already the cold of winter morning was dispelling as the odor of perspiration came, and bullets whined through emptiness.
I'm so happy to be here, I could just throw up.
So I did.
When the enemy scout ran up to me, his bat caught my stomach. I regurgitated last night's food in a very violent matter. I retched for a moment, expecting a second blow to come, but it never did. The red scout collapsed as a bullet tore into his head. I looked up and saw our sniper sitting on the roof of a shed. He had a crate by him, with a cup of coffee and a sandwich on it. Lucky.
Our scout came hurtling past, clothes on fire. "Medic!"
Medic hurried over and healed scout, who ran off, without even waiting for the medic to fully heal him. The doctor turned his ministrations to our heavy, who was now fistfighting with the rival heavy.
One I was sure I'd not longer be vomiting mostly digested carrots, I cloaked and found my way to the enemy base. Inside, a popped a new cigarette in my mouth but didn't light it. The red engineer would smell the smoke.
In case you are curious, on the form it asked if I smoked. I wonder why.
At any rate, the red engineer had a turret just by the intelligence. Disguising as the red medic, I ran in.
"Doc? What are ya doin' here?" he said, looking up.
I faked a panting fit. "Ze blues, zey are coming! Zey broke past pyro and ze ozhers, and are on ze vay!"
"Damn it all! Wait here by my regenerator. I'm going to tear someone's face to shreds," the engineer said. He picked up his shotgun and hurried out. I had maybe a minute before he realized he'd been duped, so I slapped sappers on the sentry and dispenser. Then, I grabbed the intelligence. Pausing to make sure the sapper was securely on the buildings, I hurried away. No sense sticking around. I nearly made it back to my base to, except when medic blocked the way.
"Medic! Let me pass!" I said urgently.
Medic stabbed at me with his bonesaw. Huh?
I slapped his hand away and socked his stomach. He doubled over, and red static lines swirled around him. Red spy was there, clutching his midriff. If our medic was a spy though, where was our actual medic? I shoved the spy against a wall and ran past. After dumping the intelligence, I saw all the reds fleeing back to their base. I collapsed, exhausted on the ground.
Medic came in with a strange, dizzy look on his face.
"Ah, zhere you are," he mumbled, turning slightly to face me. His eyes were glazed and focused on a point just over my head.
"What 'appened to you?" I asked, eyeing his half-dead demeanor.
"Some son of a gun hit me in ze head vit a knife butt. How annoying," he replied. He sat down by me. "It vas the red spy."
"Yeah, he tried to kill me," I said.
Medic seemed to refocus then. "Oh yes. Zhere is a paper you must see." He took out a document. There was a pig symbol at the top. Below, there were words.
WE WILL BE TEMPORARILY RELOCATING ALL MEN
TO FIGHT ON A FARMLAND. IT IS ADVSIED THAT THE MEDIC
PREPARES HIS EQUIPMENT APPROPRAITELY. THE MISSION
THE BATTLE FORMAT WILL BE KING OF THE HILL.
BLU TEAM, DO NOT LOSE TO THE REDS. THE BATTLE
GROUND IS A FIELD, SO SET YOURSELF UP AS REQUIRED.
MEDICS MAY NOW TAKE REQUEST FROM TEAMMATES TO
SEND IN LAST MINUTE ORDERS. THE MOVE IS TOMMOROW.
DELIVERIES WILL COME AT SIX IN THE MORNING.
Oh joy. We're going to be fighting on a farm? Surrounded by pigs and cows? What are they trying to do here?
"Zis vill be so annoying!" medic griped. "I vill need to bring medicinal materials since hay fever and allergies might come. And imagine vat other things vill happen on a farm? UGH!" The tired doctor stood and cracked his knuckles. "Before ve leave, I'll need to give ze lot of you injections tonight."
I blinked, rapidly. "Injections? Why?"
"Guess. Zhere are all these bacteria and all zat horrible cow shit. Imagine ze implications medically. Command must be trying to kill me," he groaned.
I steered the man to the medical bay, and when he was there he seemed to become more back-on-earth. He bustled about almost immediately upon entry, digging through cabinets and hunting out materials. I saw him adding drops of clear liquid into syringes. I wondered if he knew what he was doing, seeing as he was dead on his feet. Another thought occurred to me. How was he still our medic, what with his tired tendencies, I'dm expect for him to have been shot dead already.
Medic popped a chocolate in his mouth and chewed slowly. Tapping a pen against his temples, he adopted a mask of blankness. He stared at the wall, apparently thinking.
I for my part returned to my room to find an army of fat, white rats/mice in the corner. They remained bunched in the corner and did not scatter even when I approached. They were eating their dead friend from this morning. Disgusting.
"Hello, mousey," I muttered. "Get out of my room." I picked up my gun again and aimed at one of the rats. They scattered, diving all over. Most slipped into a gap in the wall, and the rest went into my open closet. A moment later, the rats ran out, screeching. They fled from the French cologne smell on my suit.
Rats with no taste. Next, fish that throw lightning bolts.
I took out a cologne bottle and splashed a little on the rats. They panicked, shooting off every which way. Does it smell that bad? I think it's smells fine. Geez. Such picky mice. Or rats. Oh what the hell, rice. No wait. That's food. How about mats. Damn it, rats. There.
I poured cologne on the floor in front of the rat hole, and then replaced the bottle on my bedside table. I packed my weapons, and a couple of suits. Apparently, we'd be at the farm for a while.
Well paint me red and slap me silly.
The speaker came on. "All men must bring weapons."
Well shoot the horse and shove crowbars in my mouth.
"Please report at five in the morning to the kitchen."
Well roll me in pig manure and mail me to hell!
"You may not bring any kind of food or drink unless you are the medic."
Well run me over with a tractor and spit hayseeds in my face!
I flopped down in my bed, too tired to think anymore. I drifted off into the realm of sleep, eyes fluttering shut. My last thought was of a scarecrow holding my disguise kit and laughing at me.
Five in the morning. A heavy weight slammed into my stomach, causing my eyes to fly open and my breath to run away from my throat. I coughed, and shoved…scout off my stomach.
"H-h-h-ack!" My throat convulsed and I felt sick. "What was that for?!"
Scout grinned. "You left your door unlocked, snake man! Why the fuck does it smell like French cologne in here?" He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Gross. It's like, shit and plants or something. It smells like something dead."
"Shut up. It is a French thing. You wouldn't understand." I got up and stretched. "Time for us to visit the farm. You ready?"
"Wait, medic ordered stuff for all of us so we gotta go pick those up at six. We leave at seven." Scout ran out the door, dog tags flying. I sighed and followed suit.
Everyone was already up. Heavy was eating a sandwich, and the others were talking in hushed undertones. Medic was discussing something with soldier. They seemed to be arguing, and by the way soldier's face was turning more and more red, I'd say medic was annoying him.
I found a small ham sandwich left out for me. I ate it, and took out a cigarette. I was about to light it when I saw medic glaring daggers at me.
"What?" I said.
"I hate smoking. If you want to turn your lungs into a small black stone, do it in another room, or outside!" he responded vehemently. He turned back and started saying something angrily to soldier.
"Okay, okay, good lord," I grumbled, putting away the cigarette.
When six o' clock came around, medic left and returned with a small wagon in tow. There were an assortment of things. The soldier got the pickaxe "escape plan", the scout got a shortstop, and pyro got a flare gun. The others looked around at the other items. Engineer grabbed a golden wrench and hefted it, grinning. Sniper had a huntsman, which he strung experimentally. Heavy had strange brass knuckles. They were labeled "Eviction Notice".
Demo found the Scottish Resistance. Medic got himself an ubersaw. I saw something left for me. It looked like an icicle.
"…what is this?"
Medic glanced over. "Spy-sicle. I vas not sure vat to order for you, so I got that. It turns your enemies to ice. Good for entertainment, I suppose."
With that proclamation, he was done. Someone handed him a mug of coffee. When he looked at it, his face twisted in disgust, and he shoved it away. Sniper frowned.
"We can't have you fallin' asleep, mate. Might as well stay awake! The caffeine will help you," Sniper grunted. Medic looked at him.
"Well," he said flatly. "Although it discolors teeth and tastes like shit, very well." He gripped the cup and gulped down its contents. When he set it on the table his eyes were somewhat wide. "Hmm."
He walked away without a word. A few of us exchanged glances, and then went our separate ways to pack.
When the ride came, it was in the form of a train. We hopped on, and the vehicle shot off at tremendous speed, rocketing down the rails. Within half an hour, we were at the "farm" battlefield. When we stepped off the train, we surveyed our new grounds.
"Holy shit," Sniper muttered.
"Shit isn't holy," medic said dryly. "Unless there is a knew feces-worshipping religious cult I am yet unaware of." Sniper shot a glare at him, but medic just dusted his coat off and joined us in viewing the land.
The entire area was fenced in. The field was split in two, and at the center was the control point. Our team structure was the team colored barn on the opposite ends of the field. The ground was covered in growing brown grass and wheat. Even more odd were the animals roaming free.
It wasn't the cows on the sidelines or the chickens on the roof that really drew our attention. It was the flock (herd?) of pigs that had decided to annex the control point. They stood and sat there, oinking and rolling around. Bacon control point. Yum.
We went towards the farm building, which was evidently our new home for a while. A man came out. He looked exactly like a generic farmer, straw hat and all. With a hap-toothed grin he greeted us.
"Hey lads! My new posse! You've got a new spy I see!" he shouted, even though he was right in front of us. "Well, I best get off the land before you fill me with bullets." With that odd speech he left, whistling an off-key tune.
We went inside to find rather pleasant rooms, much unlike the battlefield. The inside was ventilated, but outside you could smell the animal dung and farmyard odors. I nearly vomited when I walked past the cows.
The giant steaks with legs eyed us as we passed. One of them let out a moo, then went back to eating grass. I wondered what would happen if pyro flamed them.
Once we unloaded our belongings, we went to a meeting in the kitchen.
Demo shook his head once we arrived and spoke. "I cannae believe we be stuck heah fer hell knows how long!"
Scout frowned. "This place smells like fucking horse shit!"
Medic tapped his temples thoughtfully. "Zhere are no horses, scout. I am sinking zat if ve are here, ze reds must be coming soon as vell." He paused and looked around. "Vhere are heavy and pyro?"
The two were nowhere to be found. Right after medic said that, pyro came in, smelling faintly of smoke.
"Pyro?" medic asked. "Vhere is ze heavy?"
"Mtside nn pfg!" he replied. I wonder why he doesn't take off his mask?
"Vat?" medic said blankly.
"Mtside nn pfg! Mtside nn pfg!"
"Pyro, write it down," medic said, handing him pen and paper.
Pyro took it and wrote, He is outside with the pigs!
Medic groaned. He turned to me. "Spy, can you please go find him? He vill probably be doing somesink stupid, and zen get hurt. Zen I vill have to heal him."
I nodded. "Of course." I left to find heavy. As it turns it out, he was just outside. He stood just around a corner and I paused, hearing a crunching noise.
"Omnom, nomnom, nomnomnom…"
"GAH!" heavy yelled. His head twisted around the corner. "Spy! What are you doing here? You look for me?"
"Yes, 'eavy. We were wondering where you went. What is that you're eating?"
Heavy rounded the corner and I nearly threw up in disgust. Heavy was holding the charred corpse of a pig.
"What are you eating that for?!" I yelped. "That's disgusting."
Heavy looked at the pig he was munching on. "Pyro cooked for me! Is good!" He ate some more, splattering my suit with blood. I sighed.
"Come in, 'eavy."
I led the gargantuan man inside. He continued to eat the pig, and the burnt smell made me gag several times.
The others looked up when I brought heavy in. Their eyes widened.
"Heavy…" medic said. "Zat…is zat a pig?"
"Yes, doctor! Is good bacon!"
A vein in medic's neck pulsed. "Heavy! Zat is not bacon! It is a burned, dead pig zat vill likely make you sick! Stop eating it!"
Heavy frowned. "Okay, doctor. You want?"
Medic glared at him and barked, "N-!"
Heavy had reached forward and slapped a hunk of blackened flesh on medic's mouth. The man froze. Very slowly, and very deliberately, medic peeled off the "porkchop" and looked at heavy. Scout was grinning. Engineer was looking away. The others were watching with mild interest. I was trying not to throw up.
Medic looked at the hunk of meat, and then his eyes roamed to heavy. You could cut the tension with a knife.
Crouching, medic placed the meat on the floor, and then went to heavy. He took took out a tongue depressor. "Say, 'ah'!"
Heavy complied, allowing me the wonderful view of cheweds up pork guts rammed between tombstone-sized teeth. I turned around and vomited up my breakfast in the trash can.
Medic looked at heavy's teeth for a moment, then punched heavy in the face, knocking the giant over and causing him to collapse. Did he just knock over heavy?
Medic looked at him for a moment, then suddenly staggered back, clutching his arm. "Gah! Owowowowowowowowowow!"
Scout burst out laughing while demo rolled his eyes. Soldier picked up the meat and chewed the tip of it. Disgusting.
Heavy stood up and blinked, seeming to already have forgotten that medic just punched him. He pushed medic into a chair and said, "So what meeting for?"
Medic, through gritted teeth, said, "Ve vere discussing vat ve should do today."
Soldier stood up. "Men, I propose we attack the red bastards right now! We march over to their stinking base and show those commies whose boss!"
"Zay are commies?" medic asked, feigning interest.
"What do you mean, doc? Of course their commies!" soldier yelled.
"I see. And vhat does the other soldier call us?"
"…you know doc, I hope you get replaced real soon."
When the reds showed up an hour later, sniper took out binoculars and spied on the reds. They were already settled in, and they had a new pyro, to replace their last one. This one was large and bulky. A heavy-pyro hybrid of sorts. He clutched a Backburner flamethrower. That one was going to be trouble, since the backburner's flames were 15% more powerful.
When I lay down to sleep at night, my mind was buzzing with the day's events.
The next morn I awoke feeling like I could take on the world. I decided to take a step down and take on breakfast.
In the kitchen, strangely shaped pancakes sat on plates. Soldier's pancakes were skull-shaped with imprints for the eye sockets. Now that was weird. Heavy sat down in a chair and it collapsed, splintering under heavy's weight.
"Bad chair is too weak!" heavy announced. He stomped off, leaving several of us trying quite hard not to laugh. When we were done eating medic arrived at the kitchen. I decided to ask about heavy.
"Does 'eavy, er, like raw meat?" I asked.
Sniper spoke up, surprisingly. "Naw, just crazy dumb."
Medic grimaced. "He vould not hurt a fly."
Sniper smiled. "Except reds are not flies."
"And flies are harder to shoot anyway," medic finished.
"Is that like a routine for you?" I asked. They had recited that a little too perfectly. The two shook their heads no, and then left the table.
I put on my mask and headed out. The pigs on the control point were gone. Sniper was swearing under his breath, and I didn't blame him. There wasn't anywhere for him to hide and shoot from, just open fields.
The alarm blared and combat began. I rushed out, cloaking as I went. I hid by the red door as the men poored out, screaming throaty war cries. I never understood the point of battle cries. They alert the enemy and make you look like an idiot who likes to prove his lungs are larger than yours.
When the red heavy came out I noted that the red medic was nowhere to be seen. I had not time to ponder it, so I decloaked and disguised as the soldier. I hurried up.
This heavy was unlike the last one I'd killed. Not very different. The main difference was that he had a raw onion in his mouth. I wasn't even going to bother ask why. Drawing my knife, I stabbed rapidly, sinking my knife into his heart. The heavy collapsed with a scream of agony.
I ran to the control point, but tripped over something, falling flat on my face. I looked.
!#^#%! ^($$?!$ ^ %&!
I tripped over a pig that was half buried in a mud pool. Having a nice mud bath pig? I'm not! BECAUSE OF YOU!
I've heard mud is good for your complexion. The pig wouldn't have needed it. Bacon, even ugly bacon, is bacon in the end. I shot the pig in the head, and struggled to my feet. I looked up to a clicking sound. There was a shotgun barrel in my face.
"Merde," I growled. The red engineer pulled the trigger, just as I rolled aside. The bullets sprayed the pig, throwing up swine blood all over. I ran for my life and glanced over my shoulder. The red engineer was running away from out scout. I grinned, and then ran smack into a cow. Shoving the milk dispenser/cow away, I made my way to our engineer, who had his turret up and running.
He looked up at me. "What's up, spah?"
"I'm running into pigs and cows is what!"
"Henh. Why don't you bring one back and we can eat it!"
I sat down by his regenerator, rubbing my bruised chest. I felt a rib slightly out of place. "The animals are running about, getting een my way!"
"I always liked chicken," engineer said absentmindedly. "Tastes like chicken."
"Yes you imbecile, chicken does taste like chicken," I said. "Why are you babbling about chickens? There is a red scout coming this way!"
Engineer looked up as the scout jumped over the turret and landed behind engineer. "Oh boy," engineer said, looking as his turret swung around to face him.
The turret level two fired, peppering engineer with his own bullets. The scout took the chance to fire his scattergun through engie and damage the sentry. I swung my knife and hacked at the scout, slicing open his arm. With a boyish yelp he fled, clutching his arm.
"Engineer!" I shouted. I bent down by the collapsed engineer. I placed a finger on his neck. A pulse. "Medic!" I yelled, swiveling my head. Medic dropped in, quite literally.
Medic jumped down from the roof, landing with a sickening crunch. He winced, and then turned to engineer, bending down without a word. He counted bullet holes.
"Zhere are…seventeen bullets in him from ze scattergun. I'd guess about eighty seven from his-"
"Enough of the diagnosis! More of the healing!"
He sighed and heaved his medi-gun up, releasing the healing rays. At the same time he took a pair of tweezers and began digging bullets out of the engineer's back.
A bullet struck my arm, and I looked out onto the field. The red sniper stood behind the red heavy (Why is he alive?) and was aiming at me. I held up my ambassador, but I wasn't sure what I planned to hit. My entire arm was shaking. I couldn't possibly hit him at this range.
The next thing I knew, the sniper was dead, a bullet in his heart. Our sniper stood leaning coolly against the barn door, a smirk pasted on his face.
I turned to medic. He was still extracting ammunition. I stood and made my way over to the sniper, tripping over a few more pigs.
Sniper turned to face me. "What do you want?"
"Can you get see the red medic?" I asked.
He looked through his scope and began searching the field. "No…"
Where was the bugger?
Suddenly sniper grinned. "I found him."
"Wait! Don't shoot him!" I interceded. I followed sniper's gaze to the door. The red medic was cautiously coming out. His eyes darted back and forth, not unlike a squirrel.
Sniper shrugged and turned his attention to other targets. I hurried to the red side of the field, and grabbed the red medic's shoulder. He screamed, a high pitched noise, and drew his bonesaw.
"Wait!" I said, grabbing his wrist. He eyed me fearfully. "I have a quick question for you."
He tore away and hugged his arms to himself. "V-vhat?"
"Why did you stop your sniper from killing me?" I asked. The question had been hiding in a corner of my brain, gnawing away. "You tackled me, if I remember right."
He turned red and muttered something incoherent. With that, he ran, his lab coat flapping. A moment later, he was lost in combat.
"We have captured the point," the adjutant blared.
Great. So what? Rewind to the red medic running away. Weird.
I was vaguely aware that our scout was dragging me back to base. I wonder if he realizes I know how to walk.
At the base, the men celebrated with a cask of beer that must have been here since the ice age. When they broached it and the smell came out, I fled the room. Imagine the smell of rotting grapes and flesh, combined with the stench of a skunk that was just scared out of its wits.
While soldier, demo and heavy stayed down there and pressured scout to try it, the others (including myself) went up to our rooms. Downstairs I heard retching as scout tried to get rid of the sewer-worthy material he just drank.
Soon medic knocked on my door and entered. He was holding an envelope. With a flourish, he allowed its contents to fall out.
There were two photos. One of me asking a red-faced medic a question, and another with the red medic running and me standing there staring after him. I realized this was my little meeting with the red doctor.
"Yes…?" I asked. "What is this?"
Medic leered at me. "Your brief exchange did not go unnoticed. May I ask what is going on? Vhy did you ask sniper not to kill him?" His eyes told me he had a few guesses. "Last time, he prevented you from being shot be ze red sniper, no? Maybe he likes you. Zat vould be disturbing. A gay doctor haunting you." Medic shivered in mock horror. Then he rolled his eyes. "Vell? Vhy did you not kill him?"
I crossed my arms. "I just didn't. Problem?"
"Velly much so. You did not so much as attack him. Zhere vas a camera in the house, and I borrowed it so I could interrogate you on zis."
"I'll stab him next time, happy?" I growled. Medic leaned in until I could smell his breath. Chocolate. I like milk chocolate. It tastes great, and has a rich-oh wait, he's asking me something.
"I must ask vhy you did not kill him, and you must answer. If something is going on, I of all people must know!" he cried. He leaned back. "I am your medic, psychologist, surgeon, doctor, therapeutics specialist, on field medical officer, vhatever!"
What did he want me to say? That I couldn't kill him? That I had a guilty conscience? Maybe I can tackle him and knock him out. Wait…he's holding a scalpel. Maybe not then, unless I don't want my eyes.
"Well," I said. "I really didn't want to kill him right there and then, I mean, no challenge! A medic all on his own?"
Medic knows when he's being lied to. He knew that I was lying to him. I almost expected a scalpel to remove my nose...or other much more key parts. Yeugh.
Instead, the enigmatic doctor placed a small bow on my lab and left. I opened the box and a small rubber duck popped out.
I really, really don't understand anyone on this team.
In the morning of our second full day, I woke up with a feather tickling my chin. I swatted it away, and looked up to see scout. He grinned. "Hey, snakey! Awake now?"
I shoved him away and sat up, scratching my head. "Scout, you must find a better way to wake me. The feather and the stomach demolition is not very…apt."
"What the hell dude, so fucking formal!" scout muttered. He ran out the door, calling back, "Better get to the kitchen soon!"
Once I was all dressed up, I looked at the mirror. All dressed up and nowhere to go, I thought. Why am I wearing a suit on the battlefield?
At the kitchen, I saw scout fumbling with a toaster. I watched with interest from the doorway to see just how mechanically declined scout was. He couldn't get the toaster to work, mostly because it was unplugged. Giving up, he swore and threw the toaster to the ground, causing it to break into several metal pieces.
"Poor toaster. Now I'll need to arrange a funeral for it," I said dryly. "Do you know what will be in the headlines tomorrow? 'Scout murders toaster. Motives under investigation'. That will be a most interesting article."
"Shut up!" He crossed his arms. "It was broken!"
"It was unplugged," I mused, looking at the deceased toaster. Farewell, toaster brand model 1070, you served faithfully, bringing burned toast to the men of the farm battlefield. "You did not need to utterly destroy it."
"Yeah, well I did!" he pouted, and sat down heavily. He had a jar of chocolate.
"Where did you get that?" I asked sharply.
"Medic gave it to me."
"Gave? Or was stolen from?"
"Gave…stolen from, same thing!"
"No it's not."
"Yes it is."
"No it's not."
A voice interrupted our tirade. Sniper stood by the door, listening to us, and then speaking. "You know, you two are like an old married couple, bickering and all."
"No fucking way!" scout said. "He just is all 'toaster funeral'!"
"It needs one after the way you destroyed it. Hey scout, go get sniper's kukri and end your life with it. Might be for the best."
Sniper strolled in. "No," he said. "You may not use my knife (Scout: that thing is no way in hell just a knife. It's a fucking sword!) for ending your own life, or for that matter, ending any other part of your body's continued existence or attachment."
Scout grinned, revealing a slight gap in his front teeth. "Now that that's done…yes, getting and stealing from is the same."
"I take it back" sniper said. "Go end that pathetic thing you call a life."
Sorry it wasn't so much joking around and humor this time. A lot of it was rambling, because I needed to gather some more ideas, and crank out a filler story. For reference, Japanese "honorably" end their lives with a suicidal process called "hari-kari" or something like that. They use a katana. Katana, kukri…whatever. Maybe I'll make sniper dress up as a ninja. Muwahaha.