Chapter 3
Medic squinted, trying to see his way through mist so thick he could almost reach out and grab a handful. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he ended up here, but it was like he was back in the center of Nucleus again, surrounded by blinding whiteness. Only this time there were no team-mates to guide him; here, he had only his instincts. And of course a surgical-grade steel blade, packed with RED technology that converted useless bodily fluids into precious Übercharge...
“Verdammt...” He murmured, his hand reaching for his Übersaw but grabbing nothing but mist-filled air. No weapons. No team-mates either, which worried him all the more. Once, he’d been more than able to hold his own in hand-to-hand combat. But as much as he hated to admit it, as he blindly stumbled his way through the fog, those days were long gone. After he’d resigned himself to a life of obscurity and boredom, being in control of the Medigun, in control of people’s lives, had re-invigorated him. And yet the ravages of time meant he was still hopelessly dependant on his team to defend him...Heavy didn’t mind, but sometimes he did.
Medic’s outstretched hand found something smooth and hard; the mist was starting to clear now. The wall in front of him had a thick coating of dust; disgusted as he was by the uncleanliness, he wiped his gloved fingers over the vague outline of a shape, revealing a familiar red circle and white arrow. He looked to where it pointed and saw a huge circular chasm, pipes lining the walls, the mist pouring into its depths like lazily flowing water.
The clicking of his heels echoed, bouncing off the carved-out rock again and again. Somehow, he knew instantly that he’d seen this place before; somewhere far above was the central point of Nucleus and its rickety metal walkways. Ducking behind Heavy to avoid pipe bombs and sniper fire, he’d been pushed off by enemies or careless team-mates far too often since they’d been stationed here. But even though he’d been preoccupied falling to his death, not once had he seen a cave here. He’d never seen anything below the thick pipes that snapped his spine and shattered his skull. Just darkness, going on forever.
There was an ethereal sound as he approached the pit, like someone running a wet finger around the edge of a wine glass... The outline of something huge flickered in the air, and gradually becoming more tangible as he approached, revealing a spiral staircase twisting gracefully upwards. Tapping a translucent step with the toe of his boot, he found it was reassuringly solid, despite the strange shifting colours that made his eyes sting. Seeing nowhere else to go, Medic began to ascend, wondering why the bizarre structure seemed so familiar.
He continued for a few minutes, glancing upwards from time to time but catching no sight of an exit. Then suddenly, the answer hit him; a double helix! The same shape as DNA! Memories of Crick and Watson’s papers flooded back, all those sleepless nights he’d spent reading, trying to understand how the human body could tolerate horrific injuries and still live. He hadn’t found the answer in genetics, but those beautiful, intricate molecules had fascinated him nonetheless. The ‘steps’ of the staircase were nucleotide pairs; the building blocks of life itself, and he was climbing them. There was something almost poetic about it.
Then, from somewhere underneath him, came a sound like breaking glass. Medic’s train of thought ground to a halt as he looked over the edge, into the swirling mists below. Although the rest of the helix-shaped staircase still stood firm, the base was beginning to crumble. Steps shattering into showers of glass-like shards that plunged into the nothingness below. And the sound kept growing louder, more frequent... it was getting closer.
Medic ran, his heart no longer pounding from excitement, but from panic. The sound was almost deafening as it echoed all around him, bouncing off the walls of the pit. He stumbled as the step behind him suddenly disappeared. Then the step in front formed a web of cracks and shattered; his top half still hanging onto solid ground, he tried to pull himself up, but couldn’t get a grip on the slippery surface. Another step shattered beneath him and his strength finally failed, sending him falling and screaming into the-
“AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUAAAAAAAGH!”
Medic sat up with a jolt. He rubbed his eyes, gritting his teeth and growling in annoyance at Scout’s piercing scream. Out of one nightmare, straight into another. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he reached for his spectacles, cursing in his native German as he headed towards the source of the noise. The boy probably stubbed his toe, or some other minor injury....well, he’d give that little Schweinhund something to really scream about...
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS CRAP!?”
Medic hissed through his teeth, the words stabbing like knives in his aching head. He really wasn’t a ‘morning person’ by any definition, but the thoughts of what he’d do to Scout once he got his hands on him were the most vivid he’d had in a while. He was going to amputate that stubbed toe. Slowly. Very slowly. Without anaesthetic. His hand twisted the doorknob and he flung the door open... to find nothing but an empty room. The doctor turned around, silently fuming and rubbing his forehead, adding with a BLUNT scalpel to his mental list.
“DOC! Aw man, I didn’t think I’d EVER be glad t’see you!” Whipping round, he looked at the still-empty room. He checked his glasses were still on his face. And then very slowly, he looked upwards to where the voice was coming from. Scout was sprawled on the ceiling, wearing nothing but his underwear and an utterly terrified expression, trying to cover himself up with a blanket. Silently, Medic turned to leave again, running his fingers though his grey-flecked hair. Gott im Himmel...he really was working too hard...
“Hey! HEY! What the hell man, don’t just freakin’ LEAVE! You gotta help me get down from here!”
“Go avay. You ah a hallucination caused by stress.” Medic waved his hand dismissively, stepping out into the hallway. “Get yourself down.” He quickly headed back towards his bedroom, leaving the obvious hallucination of Scout to rant and swear and shout “HELP!” at the top of his lungs. If he went to sleep in his dream, maybe he’d finally wake up back in reality. But he hadn’t gone more than a few steps when he bumped into another creation of his unconscious mind; their team’s Demoman. He almost laughed a little at the absurdity of the vision; the man was now a child, probably no more than 4 years old, but inexplicably still retained his facial hair.
“Ahdinnaewannae...bloodeh Scout...” Wearing a shirt that was almost falling off him, the child rubbed his single eye sleepily, dragging his bottle of scrumpy behind him like a teddy bear. He pulled at Medic’s pyjama trousers, swaying slightly. “...’ey, Doc...why’s everythin’ so bloodeh BIG this mornin’? An’ why do ah sound like ah’m some kinda...wee bairn or somethin’...”
“It is nozzing, I am just dreaming and you ah not real.” Medic answered bluntly, quickening his pace almost to a run. Freud would have had a field day analysing this dream. Then Soldier appeared around the corner, brandishing his shovel, forcing Medic to stop suddenly. He looked entirely normal... maybe he hadn’t completely lost his mind from stress yet, maybe there was still hope.
“Arrete!” The hope shattered as soon as Soldier opened his mouth and shoved him against the wall, the shovel’s blade pressing against his neck. It was Soldier’s voice, no doubt about that, but the language-!? “Qui va la, ami ou adversaire?”
“Vhat? Vait, nein-!” the shovel pressed against his jugular vein meaningfully, prompting a choking sound from Medic. This wasn’t real. Even though it felt real, any second now, he was going to wake up... “He-Herr Soldat...I cannot understand you...vhy are you speaking French!?”
“Quoi..? Soldier looked at Medic in confusion, and lowered the shovel slowly. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “Quoi?” The man clutched at his throat like he just drank poison. “QUOI-!? QUE LA BAISE FAIS VOUS FAITES!?”
Before Medic could react, Soldier had already swung the shovel round in a wide arc, smacking into the side of his face and sending him to the floor. He groaned weakly. Despite the throbbing pain of a swelling black eye, and the dizziness, and the ringing in his ears, he counted himself lucky. A blow like that should have taken his head off, but something seemed to have cushioned it somehow. He touched his bottom lip gingerly, blood leaking from where a tooth had broken. The Medigun would fix that in seconds, but now that he thought about it...how could he be bleeding in a dream? How could he feel pain in a dream? And why - he thought as he staggered to his feet - was Soldier looking at him like he’d just seen a ghost?
The shovel fell from Soldier’s hand with a clank. He reached his forward slowly, silently, like something was going to bite it off.
“V... vas...?” Medic muttered, doing nothing to resist as the man’s thumb and forefinger rested on his nose. He was still struggling to make sense of what just happened when Soldier pulled forward firmly, and his nose grew in length like Pinocchio's, his flesh stretching like taffy.
“SCHTOP! MEIN GOTT-OW!” Soldier released his grip, and his nose immediately snapped back painfully, like a rubber band. Medic covered his nose with shaking hands, his legs giving out from shock and sending him to the floor again. That couldn’t have happened. It was impossible. He touched his face, checking it, making sure it really was still part of him. “Vas... vas ist...!?”
“Hey, what am I, chopped liver!?” Scout yelled from a short distance down the hallway. There was a thumping sound as he banged his fists on the ceiling, trying to get the attention back on himself. “The FUCK is goin’ on out there? I wanna see! And what’s the hell’s with this kid starin’ at me, he looks like our freakin’ Demo and it’s really creepin’ me out!”
“Ah AM the Demo, ye radge bastard!” a childish voice came from Scout’s room. “And ah’m thinkin’ this is all YOO’RE fault! Ye prob’ly kicked tha wrong wee old lady or somethin’, an she put a gypsy curse on tha whole LOT of us!”
“Whaddya mean my fault!? Why don’cha come back an’ say dat when ya balls drop for the second time, pipsqueak? An’ quit laughin’ at me, this ain’t funny!”
Medic extended his hand, his mind still paralysed from disbelief. It looked and felt normal, but when he reached for the shovel Soldier had dropped some feet away, his muscles didn’t strain uselessly like he’d hoped. Instead, he felt like his arm was being pulled by some unseen force, stretching it to nearly twice its length to touch the fallen weapon.
“G-GOTT IM HIMMEL!” His eyes wide and his heart thumping, he scrambled backwards across the floor until his back was against the wall, his arm instantly snapping back to normal. He was shaking all over, his stomach churning horribly as he grabbed two handfuls of hair, too afraid to pull on it in case that stretched too. His voice was almost a sob as he rocked back and forth, closing his eyes and trying to just wake up. “Vhat has happened to me... !?”
And just when he thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, he looked up as the door next to him slammed open. A figure bathed in an unearthly glow set foot into the hallway, wrapped in some sort of cloth, billowing smoke accompanying its entrance. Medic shielded his eyes; through the blinding light, he could the figure’s arms were held above its head, as if in greeting. Soldier fell on his knees at the sight, his hands together in prayer, and began babbling in rapid French.
“Where is ze Engineer!? I am going to chop him up into leetle tiny pieces and serve them wiz zat disgusting cream gravy! I cannot WORK like zis! I cannot LIVE like zis!”
“Spy...?” Medic squinted; he could just about see Spy’s face through the light and smoke, smoking 4 or 5 cigarettes at once through gritted teeth. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with murderous rage, and understandably so. Every inch of his skin was glowing like a beacon, the light even penetrating his pyjamas and the various blankets he’d wrapped around himself. And for someone whose entire existence depended on sneaking around unseen...
“TOI!” Soldier pointed accusingly, suddenly back on his feet, his shovel clenched in his fist. “Comment osent vous imiter notre Seigneur Christ!?”
“Quoi?” Spy hesitated, a look of confusion breaking his suave facade for a moment. “...As much as I want to ask how you came to butcher my language wiz zat grunting American pig-mouth of yours, zere are more important things at stake.”
He dropped one of the cigarettes and stomped on it like it had personally offended him, and flicked open his butterfly knife as he stormed off down the hallway. “Ze Engineer knows something about zat infernal contraption! And I am going to gut him like a FEESH to find out what it did to me!”
A thought bubbled to the surface of Medic’s traumatised mind. Engineer’s room was right next to Scout’s...so why was Spy going the other way? A quick glance down the hallway answered his question; the door was open, and there was no sign of Engineer. So that left four team-mates unaccounted for. Engineer, Pyro, Sniper...and Heavy!
Medic leapt up and ran back to his bedroom; Heavy had fallen asleep next to him, but hadn’t been there when he’d woken up. He hadn’t thought anything of it in his half-asleep state. But now, with half the team turned into freaks and the other half unaccounted for, he could only assume the worst. Was he invisible? Had he evaporated into smoke? Or something else entirely? He searched under their bed, his elasticated arms pulling the blankets off it and throwing them to one side, his panic rising as he found no trace of the other man.
“Doktor!”
Medic stopped his frantic searching for a moment; he’d heard something, but it sounded both high-pitched and far away. It was impossible. There was no way it could possibly be... “Heavy?”
“Doktor! I am here! Look down!”
“Heavy!?” Medic’s heart sank as soon he looked to the bedside table. And yet he still felt a strange sense of relief; by all accounts, Heavy shouldn’t be alive. It was physically impossible for a human to survive at such a tiny size. And yet despite having shrunk to just a few inches tall, his team-mate was waving at him frantically as he knelt down.
“Thank you Doktor...” Heavy said as he stepped onto his gloved palm, his voice barely more than a squeak.
Medic brought the man closer to his bespectacled eyes. If it had been anyone other than Heavy, he would have been fascinated. But when he saw those tiny hands gripping his thumb for dear life, and the look of fear on the Russian’s face, all his questions about mass conservation and how clothes could shrink along with a person simply evaporated. The man who charged into every battle with utmost confidence, who laughed maniacally as his enemies ran from him, was scared.
“Vhat happened to you?” Medic blurted out. He knew it was a pointless question; he just had to fill the silence, before his own fear started creeping up on him.
“I do not know...I voke up and vas like thees.” Heavy gripped his thumb tighter and screwed his eyes shut; even though Medic stood up only slowly, the force was almost enough to send him flying. And the doctor had to strain his ears as he squeaked: “Doktor...vhat ve do now? I cannot lift Sascha like thees!”
“I don’t know.” Medic chuckled mirthlessly, but covered his mouth to stifle his giggles before tears could begin streaming from his eyes. This was insane. He was going completely insane. “I really don’t know. But I vill zhink of something.”
“MON DIEU!”
Medic looked straight up. The cry was muffled, but loud enough to carry through the layer of concrete that separated their sleeping quarters from the spawn room above. Something was going on up there. And judging by what had already happened that morning, it was nothing good. Really, he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and forget any of this ever happened, but...
“Doktor?” He looked down to see Heavy was looking at him, frowning slightly. He’d be risking a nervous breakdown if he went upstairs to face more of this madness, but if he didn’t, Heavy would probably never forgive him for abandoning their team.
“Hold onto somezhing.” he said, holding open his pocket with one finger. Heavy let go of his thumb and dropped inside, his head and shoulders sticking out of the top, and Medic broke into a run.
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Spy pressed his back against the wall. Mon dieu, he’d touched it, he’d touched that horrible thing laying over there. And it was breathing, or trying to do something close to it, gill slits shuddering uselessly in the bone-dry air. Somehow, it was still alive. Mon dieu. He’d come up here seeking revenge, convinced it was that labourer’s fault that he’d had to wrap himself in cloth, just so he wouldn’t blind himself. And yet he’d found this. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at it. But he could still see those eyes inside his head. Those unblinking globs of dark jelly, staring at him, pleading with him, even though he couldn’t bring himself to even look at the unfortunate creature.
His eyes snapped open, and looked to the door as it slid to one side. Sniper leaned against the doorframe to catch his breath, his Kukri in one hand, and something red and shiny draped over his shoulders like a cape. “You... would not believe... the kind of mornin’... that I’ve had... ” the man wheezed. “Bloody plants everywhere... had to cut meself out of my own bloody room, and then I found- holy dooley, wot happened to you!?”
Spy gritted his teeth as Sniper cackled like a hyena, trying not to turn away, since it meant looking at that again. “You imbecile, thees is no time to be laughing-!”
“I-I’m sorry mate...” Sniper snickered, wiping a tear from his eyes. “Yer all lit up loik a Christmas tree-” He stopped suddenly, staring straight ahead; so he’d finally seen it. His face turning pale, he ran over to it, the red thing slipping from his shoulders and landing in a pile on the floor. “TRUCKIE! Oh god, Truckie, just... speak to me, or something, come on mate... what the bloody hell are you doing, ya cowardly spook!? Get over here! Or at least call for the bloody Doc or something!”
Spy shuddered, his stomach churning horribly, his hands shaking at he lit another cigarette. He couldn’t forget that scaly skin, that webbed hand, the horrible choking noise as the Dispenser kept their former Engineer’s heart beating. After apparently respawning up here, he’d somehow managed to build one before he died a second time. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do a thing, he couldn’t even look at it... at him.
“It’ll be alroight, mate.” Sniper showed no such fear as he lifted up Engineer by his underarms, leaning his back against the dispenser, turning him slightly to avoid crushing the delicate dorsal fin between his shoulder blades. “Where is that bloody Doc when you need him... !?”
Spy watched as tiny plants sprouted around Sniper. Seeds blown in by the wind or carried on clothes unfurled tiny leaves, and tried to take root in solid concrete. He took a long drag of the cigarette; the Engineer, the one person who could possibly provide an answer for this insanity, was now a monster. And as much as he tried to be professional, detach himself from needless emotions...it disgusted him, how he was too cowardly to do anything.
Moments later, the cigarette dropped from his lips, already smoked down to the tiniest stub. He stepped on it, his toe poking the pile of shiny red material that Sniper had been wearing. It twitched slightly. Then there was a stomach-churning squishing and crunching sound, and whatever was inside it started thrashing about violently. He jumped backwards to get away from it as the shape changed again to something long and thin, like a snake.
“Why don’t ya make yerself useful an’ bring Pyro over here?” Sniper growled at him.
“Zat is ze Pyro!?” He walked over to the pile cautiously, and picked it up between his fingers, like a soiled handkerchief. It was only now he could now see the dark mask and telltale soot stains that defined the fireproof suit; whatever was left of the Pyro was trapped inside it.
“Yeah. Far as I can tell, he keeps changin’ into different things, only he can’t get out.” Taking the suit from Spy, he let it rest against the dispenser. It jerked for a few seconds like a disturbing marionette, the thing inside it going through several vaguely animal-shaped forms as the men watched. For a split second Spy could see the outline of flapping wings, which morphed into flailing paws, and then disappeared completely. Then finally, like air pumped into a balloon, the suit filled out into a vaguely human shape.
“There we go. Feelin’ alroigt?” Pyro’s chest rose and fell erratically as one hand clutched his head, but he managed a weak thumbs-up. “You fully human now, or wot?”
“HUH.” Pyro grunted. Spy felt Medic bump his shoulder as he ran past, but barely reacted to it... something still seemed odd about the Pyro, or more odd than usual. His hands were much larger and his arms were longer, his whole body stretching the suit to its limits. Then he got up into a half-crouching position, his knuckles dragging the ground, and the pieces fell into place.
“Orangutan?” Sniper scratched his head, while Medic frantically opened the nearby cabinet and took out a large Medkit. “Close enough I s’pose.”
“Heavy, zere is a sterile syringe to your left. Give it to me.” Medic said quickly, hauling the Medigun out. Spy turned his attention to Engineer; he didn’t often look a man in the face as he died, but he could see the life fading from his inhuman eyes. The plunger of the syringe slowly rose from Medic’s front pocket as he tore Engineer’s shirt open. And before Spy could question how, it was already filled with adrenaline and stabbed straight into the dying man’s chest.
His body convulsed violently. Like a fish hauled to the surface, his mouth gasped uselessly, gills still trying to breathe water that wasn’t there. Then the calming red vapour of the Medigun washed over him, and Spy realised he’d been holding his breath as Engineer turned his head to face him.
“Zere.” Medic sighed, carefully pulling out the syringe and letting the Medigun seal the wound. “Ze human body vas not meant to survive such... extreme alterations. I do not zhink he vould have survived a second respawn.”
“Merde... ” Spy muttered, trying not to look unnerved by what he’d just seen, or by the fact that Medic was still talking to someone who wasn’t there, saying ‘Danke, Heavy’ as he took the handkerchief now sticking out of his pocket. He lit the last cigarette in his disguise kit, barely able to see the elegant white cylinder against his own glowing skin. It reminded him of that terrible light streaming from the central point. And with one man a monster and the other gone mad, his chances for getting answers were growing slimmer by the second.
“Oi, Doc. I know this sounds mental, but... this isn’t real, is it?” Trying to get the man’s attention, Sniper grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled. There was a yelp of surprise, and he pulled his hand away like he’d been burned, Medic’s arm snapping back to its normal shape along with the material.
“I am afraid zat is not ze case, Herr Sniper.” Medic stated with complete seriousness. “Ze Scout is stuck to his bedroom ceiling. Ze Demoman is a child. Ze Heavy is in my right breast pocket. And zis black eye ze Soldier gave me vhile he vas screaming in French... ze pain is most definitely real.”
The cigarette stub fell to the floor, joining the others. One of them had rolled next to Sniper’s foot, a stray tobacco seed already growing into a fully-formed, flourishing plant. Mon dieu. This was impossible. This was insane. All of them had gone completely insane.