Chapter 12
The kitchen was filled with laughter and song, and the lingering smell of sweat, booze, and barbeque sauce. A fairly typical victory party. But right now it was also something normal for them to hold onto; something firmly anchored in reality, so they wouldn’t lose themselves in the sea of strangeness and uncertainty. The last few days had brought them closer than the past year. The Respawn system made death meaningless, but after Nucleus, they’d been given something to fear: change. And even if they followed Engineer’s lead, by grabbing their new abilities by the horns and wrestling for complete control, there was no telling when - if ever - the changes would stop.
Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Demo thought to himself as he looked around. After he’d captured the briefcase and won them the round, there’d been pats on the head aplenty, toasts were made to his health, and then he’d slowly realised that he’d never seen the rest of the team drunk. He’d always been too drunk himself to remember, but now he was the only sober man in the room. And to him, that was even stranger than Medic stretching his arms to show how big the explosion he survived was.
“I am telling you, ze explosion filled ze entire hallvay-! Scheisse...” Medic grumbled as he accidentally spilled some of his beer, clumsily grabbing for a cloth to wipe it up. “I do not even know vhy I am drinking zis, it is like...like water, compared to das Bier in Deutschland...” he trailed off in German, picking at the ‘Red Shed’ label with his fingertip. "Heavy, warum trinke ich das hier...?"
“Because ees good time! Ve have good friends, ve have good food!” Heavy smiled. It would take all the booze they had to get him truly drunk, but he definitely seemed more relaxed as he looped his arm around Medic’s shoulders. “And tonight, tiny BLU team is eating...how do you say, dessert of humiliation?”
“Ah think you mean humble pie, Big Guy- dangit, Slim, don’t go stickin’ that in everyone’s food! Wait yer turn!” Engineer frowned, grabbing the wayward branch that was trying to spear a sausage link. Spy cackled as if this was the funniest thing in the world, as the man shook his head and took a bite of the sausage, muttering about them not even being done yet.
“Told you he’d bloody well notice. We’ll prob’ly ‘ave to wait longer now, ya bloody spook.” Sniper sighed, his face slightly red from embarrassment, and the many empty beer bottles scattered around the place.
“Well ta mère.” Spy spat back, taking another swig of beer as he paused for a rebuttal. Instead, Sniper just looked at him, confused. “...Zat means ‘your mozzer’.”
“Wot?” Sniper chuckled. “Really? ‘Yer mum’? That’s the best you could come up with?”
“No. Zees is.” Spy smirked wickedly, grabbing the front of the other man’s shirt, pulling him closer. Sunglasses knocked askew, Sniper froze as he looked into Spy’s eyes, until he finally decided to push the other man away.
“Wot the bloody hell was that all abou-” He looked down at his shirt. Where Spy’s gloved fingers had been, blue colour was spreading like ink stains, changing the red hue to a rather familiar blue. Spy covered his mouth as he snorted. “Oh, really bloody clever. This was moi favorite shirt, too...”
A sudden crash made everyone turn around. “SPY IN OUR MIDST, MEN!” Soldier swayed from side-to-side; his chair flat on the floor, his finger pointed, and murderous intent in his eyes. “You goddamn cowards never...” He paused to belch loudly. “...never learn, do ya!?”
Demo dived under the kitchen table and watched as chaos reigned. Soldier gave a terrible roar as he charged forward and slammed Sniper’s head onto the tabletop, holding him in a headlock so tight he could’ve twisted the Australian’s head right off his shoulders. His face turning as blue as his shirt, Sniper waved his hands frantically, and clumsy vines tried and failed to wrap themselves around his opponent’s ankles. It wasn’t until Engineer jumped on his back that Soldier finally let go, landing heavily on the floor.
“The hell’s goin’ on in here? You guys had a scrap and didn’t invite me? Or is this one’a them gay parties?” Demo could only hear the smugness of the smirk on Scout’s face; all he could see were his legs and socks, dyed yellow with dirt. Pulling out a chair, he sat in it and leaned backwards, sniffing the air. “...An’ what the hell smells like burnin’?
There was a collective cry of anguish from the gathering. Engineer was the first on his feet, grabbing a pair of tongs and elbowing people and chairs out of the way. Demo covered his eyes as Scout’s chair clattered to the floor... and stared as the young man somehow remained seated on thin air.
“Thanks fer turnin’ that down, Pyro...are ya sure ya don’t mind eatin’ the burnt ones? Ah mean, ya basically saved our dinner.” Pyro just waved his hand with a friendly ‘ook’, swaying rhythmically from side-to-side; Demo couldn’t really tell if he’d actually been drinking, or if he was just going along with the others for fun. But he was now tugging on Engineer’s overalls, pointing excitedly and clapping his hands as Scout leisurely reclined on nothing.
The cooking tongs slipped from the Texan’s hand, landing on the floor with a clatter. “Well I’ll be damned...”
“What?” Scout’s smug smile widened, revelling in being the center of attention, every eye in the room staring at him. “Oh, ya mean this? It’s only a little somethin’ I like to call freakin’ flyin’!” Extending his arms like wings, he slowly floated up to the ceiling with an almost zen-like serenity. Then to the sound of cheers, he did an aerial lap of the room, hi-fiving anyone who was tall enough to reach and drunk enough to care.
Demo sighed, ignoring the spectacle and taking an untouched and slightly warm beer from the table. Taking a sip without really thinking about it, he recoiled at the bitter taste and spat it out. Every day brought more changes, for everyone except him. Still useless, still hopelessly frozen in time, still without a taste for scrumpy or cigarettes or anything else that used to make him happy. In some ways he supposed he should be thankful, but instead he just felt cheated. Who wouldn’t want to fly? Or have an army of plants at your fingertips? Or any of the other ways the rest of the team had fun with their abilities, however temporary they were...
“Attention RED team!” Scout dropped like a stone as the announcer’s voice crackled over the speakers. Spy laughed loudly at his misfortune, until Sniper silenced the man with a sharp elbow to the ribs. Demo simply grabbed a pulled pork sandwich, chewing a mouthful idly. He mused how messages like this compared to the sauce-covered meat; pre-made, chopped up and served when needed. “Congratulations. Your mission at [Teufort] has been completed: your next mission is to capture all control points at [The Well]. The teleporter activates at [8AM]; do not fail me.”
The team groaned in unison - complaining about teleporting with a hangover or having so little time to pack their things - all except one. Demo looked at his sandwich, his thoughts not clouded by alcohol for once ... a base transfer without the usual one day’s notice? Something about it made him a bit uneasy, reminding him of their transfer from Nucleus and the 24 hours missing from their memories. But as Engineer started handing out portions of ribs and sausage and the team’s spirits lifted, he quickly shrugged it off. Maybe the BLU team had surrendered after seeing what they were capable of doing. He yawned, his eyelids growing heavy as he curled up in a comfortable corner of the room... whatever happened, after a good night’s rest he’d be prepared for anything.
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“Ah jus’...ah jus’ don’t like it, ye ken? This place i’nt like the last time we were here. Somethin’s here that weren’t here befoore... aaaaand it’s watchin’, watchin’ all of us. Ah can... feel it. In me bones or... someshitelikethat...”
Medic nodded, watching as Demo finished the glass of high-glucose orange drink, the perfect sugary disguise for a weak dose of sedative. He carefully picked up his team-mate, laying him down on one of the infirmary’s beds, gently slipping a pillow beneath the child’s head as he drifted off to sleep. He sighed as he looked at his unconscious team-mate; a cherubic picture of innocence, so unlike the man he once was. And he is getting worse, he thought as he picked up his notes. His mind was regressing to a more child-like state, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, nightmares of the boogeyman appearing as hallucinations.
Even with his careful calculations, sedating such a young child was a risk, but Medic had assured himself it was for the best. They’d arrived at Well and Demo had leapt into the shadows, swinging his fists in pursuit of his unseen foe. He claimed it was watching him, watching all of them. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, he’d see it in the corner of his eye. He’d even refused to sleep, staying up all night patrolling the hallways with a flashlight, trying to chase it down. Such delusions could drive a man completely mad, not to mention the rest of the team. Paranoia could spread like a disease; he’d even caught himself squinting into dark corners, just in case something really was there.
He shook his head as he clipped on the Medipack’s harness; he couldn’t lose his mind, not now. He didn’t have time. He shut the infirmary door behind him and headed upstairs to their main spawnroom. The battle would start in a matter of minutes, and the sooner they got it over with, the sooner Herr Engineer could continue his search for a cure. The door slid open, and walked straight into their Sniper, who didn’t even flinch as Medic bumped against him.
“Doc, about Tavi- I mean, Demo...”
“He vill not be joining us on ze battlefield today, Herr Sniper. I haff given him somezhing to help him sleep.” Pushing the man aside, he wasted no time in locking the Medigun onto Heavy, and sat down.
It was only then he noticed the incredible tension in the room; after their Demoman’s sudden mental instability, there had been talk of who might be next. And as he sat there amidst the silence, he noticed how everyone kept glancing at Herr Engineer, tightening a bolt on his inactive Combat Sentry with an intense scowl on his face. There was an audible metallic creaking from the tiny turret, that grew louder as Engineer turned the nut tighter and tighter. The Gunslinger made a worrying whirring sound as it was pushed into overdrive, an ugly vein standing out on the Texan’ sweat-drenched neck as he tried to tighten the connection just one more notch, until...
“AH, FUCK THIS THING!” Something finally snapped. The team visibly jumped, every face an expression of disbelief at Engineer’s sudden outburst.
“Jesus Christ, Hardhat, what the hell was that!?” Medic rubbed his temples; of course it would be Scout who spoke up, rather than leaving the matter alone. “You’ve had a freakin’ stick up yer ass since last night, an’ yer lecture about great power an’ great responsibility or some shit-”
“Prepare to attack the enemy’s control points.” The PA system interrupted.
Wordlessly, Engineer kicked the remains of the sentry out of the way, and took off his boots and socks. Scout opened his mouth to finish, but the Texan was already unbuttoning his shirt, throwing it to one side on his way out. Scales spread out from the dorsal fin between his shoulder blades, slowly covering his back as he quickened his pace.
“Mission begins in 60 seconds.”
Scout immediately ran after Engineer, with an annoyed shout of “Come on you guys!”. Soldier was quick to follow; with a few precious seconds of Overheal still coursing through him, he had enough time to rocket jump ahead of the team. And their numbers still dwindled as they went on; Sniper headed upstairs, his trusty rifle strapped to his back. Spy cloaked and headed off to places unknown, and Engineer dived straight into the water just as his gills opened. That left only three of them attacking the control point directly; Pyro, Heavy, and Medic himself. But as his Übercharge meter slowly ticked up to 80% and beyond, he felt his confidence grow.
“Mission begins in 30 seconds.”
“I am fully charged!” Medic couldn’t help but grin. An Übercharge on Heavy was one thing, but if he was twice, or even three times his normal size? The enemy would run screaming! They’d beg for mercy! They’d bow down to their obvious superiors, and surrender on the spot-!
“Hey, Doc! Ain’t the BLU team supposed to be down here? I don’t see nothin’!”
“Zere are two entrances to ze point, Schweinhund... ” Medic muttered through his headset, and glared up at Scout, who was floating just above the cargo crates that separated RED territory from BLU. He’d been enjoying that daydream. And an unpleasant series of cracking, stretching sounds reminded him why he’d needed to escape this bizarre reality, as a giraffe’s head wearing Pyro’s mask peered over the top of the box. He took a deep breath to steady himself. It was eight against nine, but all they needed was one Übercharge, one demonstration of their abilities, and it’d be all over. He stared intensely at the still-closed gate in front of them. Heavy’s gun revved loudly.
“Three. Two. One.”
The sirens blared. The gate slid open. And like an animal released from its cage, Heavy charged out with a roar, just as the BLU Heavy and his Medic charged out from the opposite side. If they’d been hiding round the corner, they couldn’t possibly have come out so quickly, could they? But he’d have to deal with Scout and his lies later; he had a job to do.
“GO AND GET ZEM!” He pulled the lever on the Medigun, and the world turned red as the Übercharge surrounded them both, protecting them from the enemy’s onslaught. But despite the incredible feeling of invincibility that came with the charge, Heavy actually started to back away. He saw his partner’s mouth move, but the sound of the two identical Miniguns and the surging energy deafened him. It wasn’t until the Übercharge wore off that he heard the bullets bouncing off the enemy Heavy... schweinhunds, countering their Übercharge with one of their own...
“DOKTOR!” Medic looked up; Sascha was making that terrible click-click-click sound. All $400,000-worth of custom-tooled cartridges wasted, all because Heavy didn’t follow their plan. He felt the anger rising in his chestc; why did he back away? Why didn’t he just grow bigger like he’d said, he could have just stepped on them! But then Heavy turned to him, and he suddenly saw the fear in his eyes. “RUN! NOW!”
The Russian fell forwards with a gurgled cry, and Medic found himself frozen to the spot as he finally laid eyes on the enemy. This wasn’t an Übercharge, this was something else entirely. The BLU Heavy’s skin had the shine of highly-polished silver, his eyes glowed like molten steel, and his face was still and devoid of any emotion. And behind him, the BLU Medic had the most horrific grin, the forced smile of a man gone mad. And yet Medic was sure he was the one gone mad as the man waved to him, then disappeared feet-first through the floor of the control point, as if it wasn’t even there.
Drawing his Übersaw, he ran. He ran down the ramp, squeezing his rubber body into the smallest space he could as more bullets rained down, embedding themselves in the concrete. His whole body shook; this couldn’t be real. This had to be another nightmare. It was either that or he was seeing things, he was losing his mind just like their Demoman. He clutched his head, a buzzing sound like television static filling his ears. He could see someone looking down at him, a man in a blue suit... the enemy Spy? But he couldn’t make out his face, the way it kept shifting and changing gave him a headache...
The dark, quivering blobs that could once have been eyes stared right through him. The creature’s head split open from ear to ear, forming a jagged grin as a tar-like substance poured from its open ‘mouth’ and pooled on the concrete floor, dripping on to him. Then its long, brittle twigs of fingers grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into unconsciousness.
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Medic woke up slowly and painfully. His back ached from being on a cold, hard surface for so long, and the bright lights above stung his eyes. Reaching around for his glasses, he found them next to him, laying on the black and white checkered floor. He sat up quickly; he remembered he’d been on the battlefield. He remembered a ghost Medic, some kind of robotic Heavy, and a Spy with no face. And now he was back in the infirmary, and on the floor no less. Had he fainted somehow? Or maybe this was just a continuation of the same nightmare, and he’d wake up any moment in his bed.
Getting to his feet, he walked over to his desk, opening the drawer and flipping through the files within. If this was real, his notes should still be here, exactly the way he left them. He selected one of his more recent folders, detailing the changes the team had experienced since the incident. Everything from the early symptoms to their latest new abilities had been carefully written down... and covered with crayon. His fist tightened around the page, crumpling the childish drawing of a house and a smiling sun. Taking out another page revealed more drawings, becoming less and less recognisable as he went on, until they were just meaningless scribbles.
“SHCOUT!” He threw the folder to the floor in disgust. Such a juvenile prank... he’d find the boy and make him re-write every page, even the ones he hadn’t defaced. He headed towards the door, casually glancing at the BLU Spy walking along the ceiling, and turned the doorknob. Not only was it locked, but his mind suddenly registered what he’d just seen, and he felt his breath catch in his throat as the footsteps came closer. It wasn’t real. It was a hallucination or dream of some kind. If he didn’t turn around, it would go away. He just had to find the key, it was supposed to be in his pocket-!
“Looking for ziiiiis?”
The crazed cackling of a madman mingled with a sinister hiss and an all-too-familiar French accent, creating one single voice which sent shivers down his spine. A gloved hand dangled the infirmary’s only spare key in front of his face. He grabbed it. The BLU Spy pulled back, turning him around to face a grin far too wide for any human face, stretching a blue balaclava that’d been torn into pieces and shoddily stitched back together. Medic’s shaking fingers slipped, losing their grip on the key.
“You don’t want eet?” the Spy giggled, opening his huge mouth like a snake unhinging its jaws. The doctor could only watch as his one means of escape disappeared down the creature’s throat, a vaguely key-shaped lump outlined against the Spy’s scrawny neck before he finally swallowed it whole with a loud gulp.
“V-vhat...vhat are you... ?” Medic’s voice was barely a whisper as his throat constricted in fear. But he somehow found the strength to draw his Übersaw, pointing it at the monstrous BLU as he ran to the right, knocking over a table of surgical implements and ducking behind his desk. His heart felt like it was trying to escape, his breathing ragged. Quickly, he looked over his shoulder, and screamed as the Spy’s head and torso suddenly hung down in front of him. The BLU’s feet were still on the ceiling over near the door, his whole body stretched and twisted, long fingers covering his face as he cackled madly at his own joke. Medic’s weapon slipped from his hand, the wickledly grinning face just inches from his own. “Mein Gott, vhat ARE you!?”
“Moi... ?” The creature pursed his lips and fluttered his eyelashes innocently, his eyes seeming to double in size as they sparkled un-naturally. “I am just ‘ere to ‘elp you...after all, I am ze Docteur...”
A nurse’s hat complete with blue cross symbol materialised in mid-air and landed on the Spy’s head, defiantly remaining there even as his neck twisted like rope, looking thoughtfully at him while upside-down. Medic tried to recoil as a overly long, almost alien finger pressed the center of his forehead. His limbs felt numb; he was frozen in fear, unable to do anything but gasp and gaze into his tormentor’s eyes with their pupils like pinpricks.
“And my diagnosis ees you may be feeling... down?” The Spy pulled his finger away. A tingling sensation shot through Medic’s body, his stomach lurching violently. Then suddenly, his surroundings shot up around him like he’d been thrown down a chasm, growing to nearly twice the size they were before.
“Vhat!?” Scrambling to his feet, Medic looked down at himself and up at everything else. His chest tightened in panic. He’d shrunk; reduced to just half his normal size in less than a second. His mind raced; he’d thought only Heavy could do such a thing. Surely, this couldn’t be real... but he’d felt that tingling before, that sensation of falling as he grew smaller... ! “H-how are you doing zis!?”
“I’ll try and make zees veesit as short as possible. But don’t worry, zees weel only take a leetle while... ” Medic’s cry of terror became nothing more than a squeak as he suddenly shrunk again, and again as soon as the word ‘little’ left the BLU Spy’s lips.
The world seemed to spin around him, the sudden height loss making him dizzy, as he realised what was happening. The words: the Spy’s carefully chosen words triggered the changes, somehow. He covered his ears to block them out as he ran, but his disorientation made him stumble and fall, and he could feel that monster’s grin, bearing down on him as his hands slipped. No! No, not again-!
“Just a tiny inconvenience, I assure you!” The Spy’s cackle rang out like a pack of mad hyenas, scooping up his diminutive victim as he shrank to the size of a mouse. One hand restrained him, holding him down on a smooth wooden board, while the other darted around the room, stretching and bending at odd angles as it searched through cabinets and drawers. “You may feel juuuuust a prick... ”
Medic screamed. Pain flashed colours in front of his eyes; excruciating, white hot, spreading through the whole of his left arm. His eyes watered as he forced himself to look at the oversized needle, like a sword penetrating his palm. His fingers twitched, damaged nerves shooting uselessly. He knew what this was now; he was a specimen pinned to a dissection board. This couldn’t be a dream, not with such pain as this, not with blood pouring from his mutilated hand. But whether this was real or not wasn’t important. He had to block out the pain, try to focus on what he was doing, as he knew that needle wouldn’t be the last. He remembered from his school days; there’d be three others, one for each limb. He needed to get out now.
The BLU Spy’s hand drew nearer, a fresh needle glinting in the harsh artificial light. Stretching quickly, he wrapped his right arm around the one that pinned him down, using all that remained of his strength to pull it free. He succeeded, but found himself blinded by pain, hot blood still pouring from his gaping wound. Wielding the dissection pin like a fencing sword, he struck out nonetheless; an inhuman screech confirmed he’d hit his mark. He took off running, leaping onto a nearby workbench and ducking behind a translucent bottle of alcohol solution. Daring to peek out from his hiding place, he saw the Spy’s face changing, becoming more grotesque as he pulled the needle from his finger, the minor wound healing instantaneously. Mein Gott, what kind of monster was this?
“Where aaaaareeee yooooou... ?” Darkness poured into the creature’s eyes. His fingers lengthened and sharpened to become claws. And his teeth became like daggers, a thick black tongue licking over them, the spine-chilling hiss in his voice becoming more apparent as he grabbed a syringe. “I just want to give you a little ssssshot that’ll make you feel aaaaaall better... ”
“Zhank Gott...” Medic stood rigid against the bottle, and slowly pulled out his injured hand from under his other arm. The bloody hole was already starting to heal; if not for the Medipack’s passive effect, he could have already died from the blood loss. Then his breath caught in his throat as the bottle neighbouring his was moved aside. Scheisse, he shouldn’t have said a word. Now that thing knew exactly where he was. Slender claws gently moved the bottle on the opposite side; the creature was toying with him. It was the cat, playing with its prey before it struck the final blow, and he was the mouse.
He was doing to die. He was going to die alone, tiny, and scared in this strange place. But instead, he chose to run.
“There you are, you annoying runt! Irritating insect!” Bottles and beakers shattered in streams around him. He weaved between glass shards that turned into towering ice-spikes as he shrank smaller and smaller, until they finally surrounded him, trapping him. “Zees may be your mind, but zees is my world!”
Suddenly, Medic found himself enveloped in darkness. There was suffocating warmth all around him, stifling, compressing, when he realised it was his tormentor’s hand crushing him on all sides. Seeing a pinprick of light between the fingers, he managed to squeeze his flexible body through the tiny gap, desperately hanging onto a claw that was almost as wide as he was tall. What was it the Spy had said? ‘This may be your mind’? All of this, the pain and the blood, was all inside his head? It was a long shot, but pulling himself on top of the fist, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, only hoping the monster would hear him.
“Zis is starting to get a LITTLE irritating!” He narrowly dodged the creature’s oversized palm as it came to slam down on top of him, clinging to its jacket sleeve. He had to get closer, he had to try again, he had to imagine his tormentor getting smaller in time with his words. If they really were inside his mind, there must be something he could do. And with an inhuman growl, he was given that opportunity as the Spy lifted him up, towards its face. Its dripping maw opened like a stalactite-lined cave beneath him, its tongue extended like a monstrous serpent.
With nothing left to lose, Medic swallowed his fear as he yelled; “Compared to vhat I haff faced in ze past? Zis is just a SMALL problem!” The creature’s eyes turned pale, the pupils shrinking back to pinpricks. He tightened his grip, continuing his verbal onslaught as he plummeted downwards. “You are nozzing compared to zat! You are tiny! Insignificant! Meaningless! Vhy don’t you just disappear?”.
He let go of the Spy’s arm, hearing it shriek in anger as it shrank rapidly, grinning as his confidence grew. Not only that, but he could feel himself shooting up taller, the usual sharp tingling sensation felt more like a pleasant tickle, slowly fading away as reached his usual size. But as the sensation was soon replaced by with something stranger and much more unpleasant, like a kind of pressure building inside him, he began to suspect that something was wrong...
“What’s ze matter, Docteur? Getting too full of yourself!?” Medic gasped as the Spy suddenly sprang back to his full height, snorting and wheezing between bouts of insane laughter, almost crying with sheer amusement. “Deed... deed you really theenk you could use my own treeck, against me!? Mon Dieu, you are even more stupid zan I zought!”
“Vhat-AGH!” Medic clutched his abdomen in pain. And to his horror, he could feel his stomach growing rounder and fuller beneath his gloved hands. He could hear the material stretching, his belt creaking, the buttons of his white coat about to pop as they struggled to contain his girth. “Vhat is happening to me-? Vhat are you doing to me!?”
A faint hissing sound, at the very edge of his hearing, answered his question. It was coming from inside him, he was filling up with air! That monster was blowing him up like a balloon, giggling and viciously poking his bloated midsection. Unable to take the abuse, his belt snapped, and the creature danced and pirouetted left and right to avoid the buttons as they pinged off one by one.
“Ah, such beautiful museek...and soon, ze crescendo!” the Spy said with a grand, sweeping gesture. Medic tried to respond, but not even a groan of pain escaped his lips, just a drawn-out squeak as a small amount of air hissed though his mouth. His clothes were tearing at the seams, the Medipack clattering to the floor as the pressure filled his entire body. The air was reshaping him, changing him from a man to a helpless rubber ball for his torturer's amusement. “Zat ees when you explode of course, mon ami.”
Explode!? The puffed-up remains of his limbs flailed uselessly, his feet no longer touching the ground as the creature rolled him onto his front, claws digging threateningly into his exposed flesh. It hurt, mein Gott it hurt. The pain was almost indescribable, like every nerve was being pulled in all directions at once. But his one consolation was that it had to be over soon; his elasticity had to be nearing its limit. With his clothes ripped apart by his massive body, that creaking sound in his ears couldn’t possibly be fabric; it was his skin that was stretched tight. His body couldn’t possibly take any more, not to mention his mind, teetering on the precipice, staring deep into the chasm of insanity.
Tears poured from his eyes, the incredible pressure forcing them permanently open. Unable to look away or even to blink, he had no choice but to watch as the demon in the blue suit hummed a merry tune, selecting an especially sharp needle. But in his helpless state? His impending, gory death was practically a relief, his own uncontrollable laughter filling his head as the monster of mercy drew closer. Yes! Let him explode! Let his ravaged body rupture like a festering boil, let his horrifically abused organs paint the walls red! Just let it end, make it stop... stop ... please ...
There was no bang, no explosion, no bloody mess. Instead, Medic fell gratefully to the concrete floor of Well, the cold steel of a butterfly knife finally, lovingly embedded between his shoulder blades. The battle still raging all around them, he smiled as he watched the BLU Spy’s form flicker, disguising as a RED Medic as the real one sank into temporary oblivion.