Chapter Text
MISSION START
BLU Scout was having a great round. He’d killed his counterpart four times already, the stupid moron. He’d already gone through RED base twice and snatched their precious intel out from under their noses, and he could tell they were getting pissed. However, after three consecutive respawns—thanks to his tried-and-true tactic of sprinting recklessly into the enemy base and expertly dodging incoming attacks—Scout knew it was time to change things up a bit. That RED pyro had a vendetta against him, and he was tired of being burnt to a crisp. It was time to bring home the bacon. This time, he was aiming for stealth.
Scout sprinted from respawn and headed for the tunnels, grimacing as the water soaked through his shoes. He wasn’t a huge fan of swimming through the waterlogged part of the base, but it was better than the very warm alternative. The tunnels were empty, he reached RED base without incident and started running again, going straight for the intel.
Again, the room was eerily quiet and empty, which struck Scout as a bit odd. There was dumb luck, and then there was whatever this was. Sounds of combat could be heard faintly above him, and if he listened closely, he could hear Heavy bellowing and the staccato rhythm of Sascha being fired. Clearly, everyone was busy defending the main entrance. Scout grinned in satisfaction and snatched up the briefcase, turning on his heel to make a quick exit. He found himself nose to nose with the RED Spy.
“Hello, you little nuisance.” The Spy drawled, and before he could react, a searing pain blossomed in his side, the briefcase ripped from his hands. Scout dropped to one knee, shouting in pain. The scatter gun. Where was his scatter gun, he just had it-
Oh. There it was, pointed directly at his head. Scout lunged for it, but he’d barely reached forward and already it felt like his insides were gonna be outside if he kept moving. Spots filled his vision and for a second, there were two spies instead of one. Blinking through watery eyes, he gritted his teeth, trying and failing to ignore the searing agony caused by the butterfly knife sticking between his ribs.
“Fuck you, man, you never play fair. If you hadn’t snuck up on me, your skull would be caved in by now.” Scout spat his own blood onto the floor. The Spy simply shrugged, stepping around him.
“I am playing fair, mon ami. Unfortunately for you, we are not playing the same game.” He replied coolly, nonchalantly placing the briefcase back on the table. “You have been a thorn in our side all day. I’m simply returning the favor.” Scout glared at him, slumping back against the table. The briefcase was right above him; he was painfully close to taking the win for his team. As soon as he respawned, he was gonna destroy this stupid Spy.
“Yeah? Go ahead and finish the job, then. I’d like to introduce your head to my bat, you’d get along real well.” Scout jeered. He wished he could reach back and grab the bat to make good on his word, but the knife made every movement excruciating. A solid hit to Spy’s kneecaps wouldn’t do him any favors, tempting as it was.
“Oh, no, I think not.” the Spy responded, smile unwavering. “You won’t be dying until the game is over, I’m afraid.” Overhead, the Administrator’s voice boomed, announcing that the BLU intelligence had been stolen. The Spy checked his watch.
“Ah, I must be going. Until the next game,” he chuckled before vanishing into thin air. Scout sat there, stunned.
“What, you’re just gonna leave me here? You can’t do that!”
Silence.
“Spy! Get back here and kill me, ya shapeshiftin’ rat!”
More silence.
Scout banged his head against the cold metal behind him, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back frustrated tears. This was bad, real bad. Stuck in the enemy base, Spy’s fancy little knife lodged in his stomach, so close to their precious intel. If he could just get it back to BLU… Scout shifted a bit and leaned forward to test his range of movement.
Nope, bad idea. The world started to grow dark very quickly, and he groaned, staring down at his blood-soaked shirt while he took some deep breaths. Maybe he could just finish it himself. Just take the knife out, let himself bleed, then wake up in respawn again. Easy. His hand shook as he reached towards the small knife. He licked his dry lips.
Do it. Get it over with. Pull it out, just pull the knife out, God damn it-
He couldn’t do it. Call him a coward, or a wimp, or whatever, he couldn’t yank the damn knife out of his torso. Scout had dealt with plenty of pain, knew how it felt to be stabbed a hundred times over, but pulling the knife out himself when he wasn’t in the heat of battle, adrenaline making him numb? Nah. Scout sighed, then choked a little on blood. He coughed and winced at the burning pain that shot through him at the small movement. Guess he’d just have to wait for however long it took for him to die.
He kind of hoped someone on his team would find him, maybe put him out of his misery. Or, best case scenario, the Medic would show up. It wasn’t realistic, he knew that. Scout was the fastest on his team, almost always the only one who could get all the way to the intel room without being shot to hell. There was no way Medic could get down here in one piece. But hey, a guy could dream, right?
Wait a sec, was he dreaming right now?
Scout squinted with blurry eyes as a figure approached him from the shadows, footsteps echoing through the large room.
“Hey! Who’s over there? I could really use some help here, I’ve got a frickin’ knife stuck in my…” Scout’s voice trailed off as the person stepped out of the room’s shadows, revealing red gloves. RED. Not blue, stained with blood, though there was plenty of that on the man’s hands and white coat. This wasn’t his medic. Scout’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, heya, doc, I thought you were someone else. Could you give a guy a hand? I’m kind of dyin’, here.” Scout forced a laugh and winced. The Medic paused when Scout started talking, but now he approached with deliberate strides. There was no hint of sympathy in his eyes, only a dark curiosity.
“Ah, what is this? A little BLU Scout, still here? You are not looking so well, mein Freund.” The words were friendly enough, but the Medic assessed him with clinical indifference, sending shivers down Scout’s spine.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Your Spy is real messed up in the head, I’m just sayin’. But, uh, you wouldn’t do that, right? You’ve got your hippo-cratic oath and all that.” Scout looked up at him hopefully. Medic chuckled softly as he crouched down to examine the wound. “Oh, you should know by now that I consider my oath more of a suggestion than a rule. It’s not nearly as fun when I’m obligated to mend every unfortunate soul that crosses my path,” he remarked, placing a hand carefully on the handle of the knife. “It seems that Herr Spy did not aim for any major organs. The internal bleeding will be minimal, such a shame.” He tutted in mock disapproval.
Scout froze, his gaze darting nervously between the knife and the Medic. “You- you’re not gonna pull that thing out, are you?” He attempted to scoot away from the hand, but there was nowhere to go. “There’s much better ways to kill me, I mean, if you’re taking suggestions you could just shoot me or-“
A scream tore its way out of him as the knife was removed in one swift motion. The pain was intense-- a red-hot poker in his gut that darkened his vision for a few moments as he spasmed. He could vaguely hear laughter, but it felt distant and surreal, until a sharp smack to his cheek jolted him back to the present moment.
“Who said I was going to end your life, dummkopf? This is a wonderful opportunity!” The Medic beamed at him, and dread settled in Scout’s stomach like a ten-ton weight.
“You… what…” he mumbled, the words catching in his throat. His brain couldn’t handle this anymore, it was all too much. The darkness returned with a vengeance, consuming him completely this time. The last thing that he processed with his fading awareness was a pair of firm hands lifting him, and the wide, eerie smile of the enemy Medic.