The Right Colour
Co-Written by Harley Quinn hyenaholic and ShdOzzy
Harley: More sex this chapter. And a very important point. Sorry about the wait.
Chapter Thirteen: A Name To The Trouble
Medic fiddled with her paperwork. At first she hadn't been able to work it out, but now she knew what was wrong with it. It didn't make sense. People were dying and being replaced, but the numbers didn't read like real people. She didn't know the names of the others at RED base. Did anybody here have a name either?
In the end, the paperwork for the medical treatment of the BLU team was next to identical to that of the paperwork for the Red team. People were dying from the same weapons over and over again. Medic rubbed at her head. It didn't make sense. But she'd never have known a thing about it if she hadn't had this opportunity to examine the other team's papers.
"Names... everybody should haff a name..." Medic pawed through the files, "Don't ve all haff names?" She stopped as something occurred to her, "Don't I haff a name?"
Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing Sniper as he strolled into the office, a mischievous grin on his face. "Told you I knew how to outsmart Soldier, love," Sniper gloated, leaning onto Medic's desk with one arm. "So, you ready for that repayment I promised?"
Distracted, at least temporarily, from the paperwork, Medic looked up at Sniper, "Perhaps," she smiled dryly, "Undt maybe wiz interest?"
Sniper grinned and leant forward, "Let's see how it goes, sweetheart," he whispered.
Medic pushed back in her chair and leant back a little, eyeing Sniper appraisingly, but not saying a word as he walked around her desk, standing over her. Then he knelt down on one knee, and placed his hands on her hips, "I gotta admit, love, you got a great body for this," he smirked, watching her blush. Medic was so pale, even the slightest colour added to her cheeks was visible. Repayment was all very well, but he wanted her to beg for it. He began to slip his hand into her trousers, unbuttoning them. Then he paused, and pulled her off the chair, onto her knees.
She was looking up at him again. He didn't want to hurt her but... oh, god, he wanted her.
Medic gasped when Sniper leaned forward and kissed her. Several seconds passed, and she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She could already feel him getting hard, and yet she wasn't afraid.
Breathing hard, Sniper pulled back briefly. His hands were holding her sides tightly, his fingers already pressing against the fabric, and he was wishing he was touching skin, "I don't... want to hurt you," he told her.
"Das good," Medic agreed, "I do not vant djou to hurt me eezer," she smirked. They kissed again, this time fighting desperately for dominance. Medic wrapped her arms around his shoulders. With an animalistic grunt, Sniper won this time, pushing Medic onto her back.
"What is it about you?" he asked the woman, leaning back, "You get me so... so..." Lost in the words, he began to fumble with the buttons on Medic's shirt, pushing it open to show her pale skin and heavy underwear. He pushed his hands under the clothes, squeezing the flesh.
"Ach... ja..." Medic gave a brief jolt, then began to undo his shirt, "Djou... ach, it is almost too much..." she maintained eye-contact, unbuttoning his trousers, "But jet... too much is almost not enough." She reached into the blue shirt and started to press her slim fingers against the hard muscle of his chest and arms.
Sniper fell forward to kiss her, hard again. They were only half-naked, their clothes hanging open and off them, but it felt better, so much better than when they had been arse-naked, "Oh god, Medic..." he gasped down at her, "I don't know... if I could ever fuck you hard enough to come..."
"Try... ach, bitte, try," Medic begged him, yanking down her trousers to her knees, and then her panties.
"I don't... want to hurt you," he told her, as their hands frantically groped and squeezed at flesh. He reached up briefly, pulling out a number of hairpins and watching her black hair cascade down her back.
"Try," Medic told him again, "I vant djou so much, Sniper... ach, so much," she was practically begging now.
Sniper paused, "You'll want me more, soon enough, girlie," he told her. Two fingers of one hand reached down and slid into her opening. Medic groaned.
"Ach... I do, I do vant djou," she whimpered softly, "Hard, oh ja," they kissed, "So much," she gasped out, "Go in... as djou mean it."
Sniper dragged down his boxers to show his cock, "If hard is what you want," he told her, breathing fast, "Tell me if you want to stop," he added. Then he pushed in with a grunt. Warm wetness enveloped his cock, and they were both sweating.
They kissed again, skin against skin, and Sniper began to thrust.
And it felt good. Medic's feet kicked briefly against the floor, but she managed to get them flat, pushing up with her hips against Sniper's as she ran her fingers through his short, rough hair, and they shifted to kiss again. She began to release a soft grunt with each thrust, as Sniper held onto her.
"Oh... oh love... I'm gonna..." he grunted, still pressing.
"Ach... ja..." Medic agreed breathlessly, spreading her legs wider. She gave a low moan as her orgasm began to hit her, "Kiss me... as djou do..." she moaned.
Sniper was only too happy to oblige, putting every last ounce of passion he had into the kiss, before finally releasing himself inside of her.
Both breathless now, they continued to move just from momentum, breaking the kiss. Sniper sat up slowly, and looked down at Medic. She was smiling that odd little grin of hers, even as she began to sit up, catching her breath, "Das good, ja?" she asked him, watching him nodding and trying to wipe himself clean. It made her smile a little wider.
"Yeah," Sniper kissed her lightly, and helped her stand up as they wrapped their arms around each other, using the other for warmth and support. They'd both need a wash, but it could wait a little while. Medic made her way back to her chair, sitting down in it slowly. Sniper sat down on her desk. Now she had a little something to mention that she had been thinking just before he came in.
"Sniper?" Medic looked up at him, concern on her pale features, "Vat is djour name?"
"My... name?" Sniper repeated, taken aback by the question. "Well... it's uh... it's uh... John, I think... or Jack... Jim? What the... hang on, why the hell can't I remember my own name?"
"I do not know," Medic agreed, "But... my own name is another question I lack zer answer to..." she mused, "Hilde... Hildegarde... Hiltraud..." she looked up, "Does anybody here haff names? Back at Red base I vas told I could not tell ozzers mein name because it vas confidential. I vas told they vere told zer same... Are you to tell me das djou vere given zer same orders?"
"Well... yes," Sniper answered. "And I think everyone here got the same thing told to them. Come to think of it, there's not a damn person on this miserable battlefield whose real name I know."
Medic stared at the paperwork again. It was... empty. It all added up to zero, "Somezink is wronk here," she said finally, "Ven ve do not even know zer names ov our comrades..." She pulled out the liquor bottle from her desk and poured herself a shot, "Perhaps I should talk to djour commanding officer?" she suggested, staring at the whiskey in the glass.
"Maybe," Sniper replied, unsure of whether talking to Soldier about what was supposed to be classified information was actually a good idea or not. "If you do, you better let me tag along. There's not a lot of ways you can talk to Soldier without him throwing a fit."
"Ja... our teams haff a great deal in common," Medic drank the shot and stood up with a dry smile, "Take me to djour leader. I do not know if he vill listen to me... but somezink must be done." She picked up a collection of paperwork, "Zere is a sayink, Sniper. Ven somebody tells djou enough lies, djou vill see zer shape ov zer truth."
"Well, let's hope the crazy bastard will fork it over. Otherwise, this aint gonna end well," Sniper warned. "Follow me love. His office isn't too far from here." With those words said, the Australian began to lead Medic through the metallic halls of the Blue Base. "Have you got a plan on how to approach him about this?" he asked her. "Because if not, it might come in handy to think one up."
Medic shook her head, "I do not know that he is any more sure of zer truth zan I am," she said calmly, "The same would be to say for mein own commander. I vant to know if Soldier knows anyzink himself. He may not."
"Well, let's hope he does, or we're in for one hell of a scolding. He doesn't exactly like it when we 'waste his time'," Sniper told Medic as they reached Soldier's office. Here goes nothing... the sharpshooter thought as he rapped his knuckles onto the door. "Oi! Soldier! Me and the new Medic would like to have a word with you."
"Come on in," Soldier beckoned them quickly enough, and Sniper and Medic walked in, the doctor taking a breath.
"Herr Soldier..." she said awkwardly, "I haff been goink through zer papervork ov zer previous doctor... undt I haff been noticink some... discrepancies das I zought I should brink to fjour attention."
"Discrepancies?" Soldier shrugged, "You're the doctor, Medic, so paperwork is your problem."
"All officers haff papervork," Medic replied, "But ve should also all haff names. Vat is djour name, Herr Soldier?"
"That's confidential, Medic," Soldier said without even thinking.
"Ja... das vas confidential back in zer Red base also," Medic agreed, "Und zer question became, do ve even know our names?"
"Of course I do!" Soldier said sharply, "It's... it's... Flynn? Floyd? Fletcher?" he stopped, and looked up at Medic, "Okay, when did you work this out?"
"Well, I've only known about this for a couple minutes, but I believe her sir," Sniper chimed in. "I've tried myself, and even I can't remember my own name. Hell I can't even remember the names of my parents. I think she's right. Something screwy's going on around here."
Soldier reached into a pocket and took out a medal. Medic identified it as being from the Crimean War - which he couldn't possibly have fought in, "But I remember... fightin' those lousy Soviets with the help of good old Jefferson and Roosevelt..." he muttered.
"Herr Soldier, viz all due respect..." Medic didn't like to point out that he was delusional, so she settled for the other option, "Perhaps djou should first remember djour name?"
Well, at least she didn't call him crazy... Sniper thought as he looked on at Soldier, who was still staring at his medal. It occurred to him that whatever had caused everyone to forget their names might also have something to do with Soldier's half-baked memories of wars he never fought in. It would certainly explain why he had them for all this time.
"Medic, Sniper," Soldier stood up smartly, pocketing the medal, "You have just drawn my attention to something very important! We're goin' to have a good old fashioned chat about our pasts - all of us! Confidential or not, I didn't become an officer by overlooking the little details!" he snatched up his folding shovel, "We're taking this question to the briefin' room!" he slammed his palm on a button, "Everybody in the base! To the briefin' room! Right now!" The order rang out around the base.
"Well, he's taking this better than I expected," Sniper muttered to Medic. "Should be interesting to see what everyone's gotta say about themselves."
Soldier didn't sound very happy, muttering angrily to himself as he walked along the corridor. Medic looked at Sniper, "I really do not know vat is going on here," she said, "But vezzer I am right or wronk, I have zer feeling das... Dann ist aber die Kacke am Dampfen."
"What?" Sniper asked.
"Oh," Medic corrected herself, "Djou vould say, zer shit has yet to really hit zer fan."
"Oh," Sniper replied, understanding the translation. "Yeah, I think you're right about that." As they followed Soldier down the hall, a thought occurred to him. "You know, I wonder is the Red Team is figuring this out as well," he whispered to Medic. "I doubt they'd take this news any more lightly."
"I do not know," Medic admitted, "I noticed it ven I compared zer papervork ov mein comrades to zer papervork ov djour comrades. It vas very strange... I realised das it vas very similar. Djou know, ve haff exactly zer same materials available?"
"What? As in identical? That's impossible," Sniper argued. "I mean, for the rest of these blokes maybe, but the weapons I use come from my own inventory. For example I got my Razorback shield hand-carved from the depths of Africa. It's one of a kind. There's absolutely no way that the Reds could have the exact same one."
"Hand carved?" Medic asked him softly, "Vat did djou pay for it?"
"Well... I would've paid about a couple thousand US dollars... if I didn't shoot the bloke who sold it to me," Sniper answered. "Why?"
"Sniper, is it... carved ov wood, with a red und white stripe down zer middle?" Medic checked, "Und ein car battery taped to zer back?"
"I... well..." Sniper attempted to respond, astounded that she knew what his shield looked like. "..Well, the battery came from my old jeep. You can't replicate that!"
"I do not know about any jeep..." Medic admitted, "But I zink I saw somezink very like djour Razorback on zer Red Sniper's back vunce. I am sorry..." she muttered.
"Motherfucker..." Sniper cursed. "Well, at least I gave the bastard who tried to con me what was coming to him..."
"I do not know," Medic added, "I have yet to investigate djour previous doctor's old equipment. If I do not remember my name... I fear there are other parts ov mein life das do not belong-" she stopped, for they had entered the briefing room, where they had just arrived. Scout had already gotten there, and Engineer was arriving even as they were.
"So, what's this big meetin' for?" Scout asked, falling into a nearby chair and resting his legs on the table. "Figure it's gotta be something important if I'm missing out on my umpteenth patrol route for the day."
"When everybody gets in, we start," Soldier said, "And so help me Abe Lincoln, if our shiny new Medic is wrong about this I'm going to wring her neck from here to Hanukah!"
"Viz all due respect, Herr Soldier," Medic answered, "I hope I am wronk."
"If you're wrong, I think I'm gonna need my head checked after this," Sniper commented, taking his own seat.
"Das is var," Medic replied, taking her own seat as Demoman and Heavy entered the room.
"Men," Soldier nodded at Medic, "And Woman, my attention has been drawn to something very disturbing, and I'd like to ask all of you a few questions. We'll start, for want of anywhere else to start from, with you, Scout. You keep on going about your seven brothers. What are their names?"
"That's easy. Their names are..." Scout started. "Their names are... uh... give me a second here... um... damn, it's been a while since I've seen them last, so I'm a little rusty on their names."
A full minute passed, before Soldier spoke again, "I'm not gonna press the point too hard but... Spy? France is a pretty big country. For a country that's not America. What part of it are you from?"
Spy opened his mouth to tell Soldier it was none of his business, in the politest possible way, when he stopped, "Zat is somethink I should know," he admitted quietly.
"Okay, so we both have memory problems," Scout observed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? We've all taken too many blows to the head or something?"
Medic stood up, "As ein new arrival to zer team," she said quietly, "I am deeply concerned meinself ov how alike much ov djour information is to das of zer Red team. Very strangely alike, in das I feel it is arranged in such a vay."
"Arranged? Like we've been set up in some way or another?" Scout asked. "But how the hell can that be? I mean, I know that me and the Red Scout look similar and all, but we're two different people! How could we have the same information?"
"I don't know," Soldier said loudly, "But nobody - and I mean NOBODY! sets up the BLU team! I don't know how we took so long to notice this, but-"
"But I suggest das djou ask zer same questions ov zer RED team," Medic interjected, sitting down again, "Because I do not remember mein name eezer. Und I do not know das of mein old comrades."
"Well, how about we nab one of the REDs and bring him back here for some 'questioning'?" Sniper suggested. "They're undermanned as it is, so a capture mission should be a synch. If the prisoner doesn't know who he is, we'll know we've got a bigger problem on our hands. If he does... well, at least we'll be one step closer to winning the war."
There were general nods all around from everybody except Medic, who was still frowning.
"Okay," Soldier spoke up, "We arrange it tonight, and kick it off tomorrow, and remember, we need them ALIVE. Medic, when we get them in, you can ask the questions what with being a friendly face and all."
"Ja, das is good suggestion," Medic agreed, "But vat is zer rest ov zer plan?"
"I think a bait and switch is in order," Sniper suggested. "The Reds are gonna want their Medic back. If Spy can dress up as her, I'm sure we could lure one of them into a trap."
Medic looked at Spy, and snickered. Spy just glared at her mildly, "It is a simple matter to fool them," he said calmly.
"Das if they want me back," Medic replied, "Vat?" she asked upon the others looking at her, "You zink I come here because I am tired ov all zer love und affection I vas recievink?"
"No, but the fact remains they're still in desperate need of a Medigun at the moment. They would at least want you in a cell so they would have access to your skills," Sniper pointed out.
"Ja, I am avare ov das fact," Medic sagged, "Very vell. Mein suggestion is to capture Scout or Demoman. Zey vill provide looser tongues in zer event ov actually knowink anyzink."
"Y'know, just because they'll be easier to crack doesn't mean they're gonna have any intel worth getting," Scout pointed out.
"You got another suggestion then, twinkle toes?" Sniper asked.
"I do," Scout replied defensively. "From what I've seen, the RED Soldier's put a lotta trust into that Spy of his. If we can get a hold of him, I bet we'll get plenty of info from that French fuck."
The entire team watched a horrible, horrible grin cross Medic's face. She didn't often smile - and this was a damn good reason why, "Vell," she said, faking reluctance - poorly, "If das is zer best idea djou haff, I vill not suggest anyzink else."
"Alright, so it's settled," Sniper stated, hiding the fact that he was a little creeped out by Medic's grin. "We'll nab the Red Spy, and whether he remembers who he is or not, Medic'll be getting some valuable information out of him."
"Right, Spy, you'll be putting on a cloak and posing as Medic there," Soldier stated, "Put yerself in a nice, visible position where spies normally go - you should be able to think of one or two. Sniper, you put yerself nearby - you still got that clever uncloaking stuff? Good, hit anybody who comes near with it, uncloaking them and removing a little will to live. Scout... you knock the bastard out from a distance with ole Sandman. The rest of us serve as a handy dandy distraction. Medic, we don't want anybody figuring out it's the old bait and switch, so stick to defence with Engineer this time."
Medic sagged, a little dismayed that she wouldn't get to knock out Red Spy this time, but nodded.
"I think I can handle that... if the runt can," Sniper agreed to the plan.
"You bet your ass I can!" Scout replied. "That Spy won't even know what bonked him!"
Soldier nodded, "One way or another, we're gonna find out what's goin' on with our names," he said firmly, "And if it turns out somebody tricked me into fightin' this war, their head is gonna turn up on a pike! DIIIIIIISMISSED!" he shouted, saluting smartly and marching off.
Heavy looked around, "How is it I remember Russia, but not home or name?" he asked.
"I suppose the same way I remember Australia and my parents, but not anything else beyond my departure to Africa," Sniper answered the giant. "As for an actual cause, you got me mate."
"I am from Stuttgard," Medic spoke up, looking worried, "Und I remember seeing the Berlin Vall beink built on zer news , but mein life beyond das is like ein dream."
"Y'know, come to think of it, beyond the fact that I spent time with my brothers back in Boston, I really can't remember a damn thing leading up to joining this army," Scout added. "You think we were forced into this? Like, brainwashed somehow?"
"It's possible, lad," Demoman spoke up, his voice the usual slur, "We Scots have a saying... The willing horse is always worked to death," he hesitated, looking concerned as well as drunk, "I'm a black Scottish cyclops... but I don't remember my upbringing in Ullapool. Y'd think I'd remember somethin' like that. I just know my parents're dead cus I tried to kill Nessie," he shrugged.
"Come to think of it, I really don't have a clue why I left my parents to go hunt game," Sniper admitted. "I mean, I keep in touch in them, but every time I talk with them, it feels like... something's missing. As if there was a huge chunk of my life they've either forgot or are trying to keep hidden."
"Mmmmph mmmph mmph-" Pyro paused and took off his gas mask to show a young Spanish man's face, "I don't remember anything about my history," he admitted out loud, "But perhaps... quien no tiene, perder no puede?" seeing the confused expressions of everybody but Spy and Medic, he translated, "You cannot lose what you do not have?"
"Perhaps," Sniper answered. "But then that would mean someone was indeed toying with our heads, which begs the question; who is doing this to us, and to what end? Because I don't know about you guys, but I'm not all too happy about being someone else's slave. If I find someone's been pulling our strings, there's gonna be hell to pay."
Nods came from around the table, accompanied by the sound of Demoman cracking his knuckles in a meaningful way. Spy stood up, "Well, Gentlemen," he nodded to them, "I can only say that the advice of a lady is no great thing, but he who does not take it is a fool. We shall see what tomorrow will bring." he nodded again to them, and left the room quietly.
"Yep, tomorrow's sure gonna be one hell of a day," Scout said as he got up to leave as well. "I can't WAIT to bonk that son of a bitch! After that interrogation he gave me, he's finally gonna get what's comin' to him!" And with that, the Bostonian departed as well.
Medic's face turned pink, as she felt the gaze of the remaining men at the table lock on her in curiosity, "I vill return to mein room also," she said quietly, leaving the table quickly, "Aufweidershie, comrades."
Harley: Major-league questions being asked now. And I want a million reviews! They can include reviewing my other stuff too, if you insist...