"Vhere are mein commercial, dummkopf?" The lanky German tightened his hold on a game producer in the Valve meeting room. The producer attempted to get loose, but only slammed into a wall by the crazed class. The frightened man reasoned.
"Listen, doctor, your commercial will come in time, but you have to calm down."
"CALM DOWN? Everybody on my team has a commercial about themselves except me and Pyro! EVEN ZE SNACK HAS A COMMERCIAL!" The Medic screamed down on his victim's face.
[The Medic flashes back to the day when Valve decided to produce Meet the class shorts, which excited the team rather greatly. Well, some of them. Unfortunately, only two of the members did not get on the action, Pyro and himself.
During a cease fire during a month before, they were both in an elevator in the RED base, descending after spending a day at the nearest mall.
"I can't believe that these dummcopfs are doing this!" He cried out.
"Mmmpph!" The Pyro responded. The Medic continued his rant.
"Why does everyone get this advertisements, but not us?"
He frowned quite bitterly. After all, he was the one keeping this team alive every single battle. He Ubercharges them every time when victory or defeat is at hand. Why should he not get in on this, because he was German or a some sort of Nazi? No , they were afraid of him, because he was the ubermensh!
"Mmdic, puhlease camm dmm." The Medic was shocked. The Pyro usually never spoke at all,due to his/her protective gas mask, muffling most of the words into gibberish.
"That's funny, I never heard you ever speak out loud, in fact, I never heard you speak English at all!" The Medic's face became reddish with anger. A sigh could be heard from the Pyro, or more like a wheeze of air.
"Lisshin mmdic, mffing pisset aa thuh team wile note help our problemm."
The Medic slowly cooled down curiously.
"Then vhat should be the plan of action then, dummcopf?" The Pyro cackled manically with some force, then whispered to the German, who's eyes grew wide and he grinned sinisterly.]
"Please, doctor, you will get your commercial, but killing me will not do anything."
The medic slowly started to grin wildly with insanity. "Maybe not, but I will still have the pleasure of ripping out your organs, and turning them in wieners! The medic pulled out a large bone saw and was about to slash the producer's torso open with the tool.
Suddenly, the "good doctor" was pulled in the air. A deep Russian voice spoke. "Doktor, please calm down and have a sandvich!" It came from the heavy weapons guy, only known as Heavy. [While you work as mercenaries for BLU or RED, your name is replaced with the codename that explains your skills as a mercenary.]
"I knew that this Nazi of a maggot can not be trusted! He's trying to cut up the producer of our game!" The military man with a large helmet pointed his shovel accusingly at the medic.
"Can you keep it down lad? I still am suffering a bloody hangover!" The explosive expert grasped his head in pain of the ringing in his ears.
Heavy tossed the erratic man over his shoulder and slowly walked out the door with his other two comrades. "Let me go dummkopf! This is not over, you hear me?"
"Aye, doc, I can you! My bloody head, it feels like ticking dynamite." The Black Scottish Cyclops took another swig of his non alcoholic grape juice.
" Well, come on laddies, let's get back to HQ."
The medic sighed deeply and continued to yell German obscenities at the producer of Team Fortress 2.