"What is that maggot doing there?"
"Why did you take baby man in?"
"Have ye lost yer bloody mind?"
"What were ya thinkin' with that RED feller?"
The BLU Scout was being bombarded by his team's questions, and stammered in his attempts to explain himself.
"Look fellas," the Bostonian said, showing his hands to stop the stream of questions as he explained, "the damn guy was... just... messed up beyond belief."
That calmed down some of the questions, but it brought up another but valid question:
"What was wrong with that RED then?" the Engineer asked.
"Ahh man," the Scout moaned, shaking his head, "it was dark, but man, I could see the Demoman was limpin' an' stuff. He wasn't makin' sense, an' then he began screamin'..."
Behind the crowd of BLUs around the Scout a scream arose from the infirmary. The RED Demoman was still being vocal about his ill state.
"Trust me," the Scout told his teammates, "he's screwed up big time."
The Soldier scoffed, beating on his chest, and spoke up: "If the enemy is down you beat him down until he cannot get back up. Sun Tzu said that!"
The young man rolled his eyes at the Soldier. "Pfff. Yeah right. What would'ya have done if youse were there, beat him wid yer shovel an' then rip his head off? Come on, even you would'a helped him out."
The military man seemed insulted at such a prospect. "You are weak! That's what you are. You're a mama's boy!"
The Scout was taken aback, as if he had just been stabbed. "Dun'cha dare talk about mah ma!"
Before a brawl between the two could start, the Russian Heavy stepped in - literally.
"We are team!" he boomed, "we must not fight each other, but RED babies!"
Both the Soldier and the Scout let out an audible 'hmph', crossing their arms and turning their backs to each other, having nothing else to say.
"I'm just dumb-struck as tah how much that feller can scream," the Engineer began, "must've been - what, ten minutes? - of screamin'. What could'a scare 'im so darn much?"
Everyone was quiet, pondering upon the valid question. "Maybe he saw tha RED Spy sleepin' with Scot's mother," the Demoman said jokingly. Everyone in the room bar the Scout laughed their hearts out.
"Will ya quit it wid mah ma'?" the Bostonian let out in a flustered tone, blushing slightly. "It ain't frickin' funny!"
The laughter up until when the Medic emerged from the infirmary with a blank expression. Everyone was tensed to hear the doctor's news with the same question in their mind: what happened to the RED Demoman.
Instead of satisfying their curiousity, the German pointed to the BLU Demoman. "I need some of your alcohol supply, herr Demo."
The Demoman was shocked at the Medic's request; no-one but he had access to the Scrumpy crates, and only he was allowed to have any. "Whot? Are ye mad?"
The Medic kept his composure when he replied: "He will not let me touch him or spouting nonsense. If zee RED Demoman is anyzhing like you, then he is sober at the moment und he needs to be drunk to stop zee screaming und blabbering."
"Of course he isn't like me!" the Scotsman affirmed, "that wee bastard can't even set his stickies roight, oi bet he don't drink as heavily as me."
"No offense mate," the Sniper retorted, "but ya don't make much sense when ya get sober either."
"Oi am perfectly capable bein' sober an' clear-cut."
"Last time you were sober, ya were screamin' bloody murder an' yappin' 'bout Truckie buildin' a time-travel machine an' seein' gun-totin' dinosaurs,"* the Aussie stated in a 'as-a-matter-of-fact' tone.
The Demoman sputtered in anger. "Yer not toochin' mah Scrumpy, least o' all that RED idiot!"
The Heavy opened a crate of the Demoman's prized moonshine and handed out two bottles to the Medic.
"You didn't haff to hit him so hard," the Medic told the Russian Heavy, "but danke for your help."
Cracking his knuckles in satisfaction, the Russian chuckled, "was not beeg problem. Leetle one-eye man can be annoying also."
The Scot in question lied on the floor, face-down, bleeding slightly from the nose. "Oh that smarts..." he mumbled.
For a second time the Medic returned from the infirmary, this time with a mildly surprised look on his face.
"Well doc?" the Sniper asked.
"He hasn't drunk alcohol in a long while," the Medic said, sounding surprised as much as the rest were, "at first he vas throwing up, but now he's asleep. Which has let me check his injuries."
"Which are?" the Engineer chimed in.
"Vell, his foot (the one which vas limping) vas completely skinned," the Medic explained, much to the disgusted shock of his teammates, "und zee bandage covering his right eye? Ja, his eye is not there anymore."
The room fell quiet. "What do you mean doktor?" the Heavy asked with a confused expression.
"Gone, gouged out, eye lids und everyzing," the German replied, making gestures for emphasis, "just ein hole left."
"Gouged out?" the Scout asked in a scared tone.
"Ja, vith some metal object, probably ein knife or spoon."
The team had a series of varied but similar reactions: the Engineer and Scout shuddered; the Sniper and Soldier lay their heads low, looking somberly; the Spy twitched; the Heavy brought his hand up to cover his mouth; the Demoman covered his only eye as if to protect it, and the Pyro sniffed, clutching himself.
"Who did that tah 'im?" the Engineer asked around. Everyone denied having anything to do with the RED Demoman's crippled state. "Look, it had tah be someone from BLU, friendly fire keeps teammembers fro-" he stopped himself. After a moment, with the rest of the team looking on with curiousity, he muttered, "it's ceasefire...friendly fire is off..."
"You mean, another RED did dat to him?" the Scout asked in a terrified voice.
"So one of the RED's finally lost it," the Soldier mumbled to himself, "I knew they weren't war material, but Jesus, I didn't expect one of them to become an actual Section Eight."
While everyone looked to each other, the Medic shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the nerve to tell the truth. "Er..."
His colleagues turned to the Medic.
"Zat...isn't necessarily true..."
*Samuel Brook's Team Fortress 2: the Trouble with Time Travel, it's a very good read and I reccomend it.