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No. 3897
Because the first one autosaged.

Starting off, we'll be continuing the current Heavy/Medic fluff arc that started here: http://www.tf2chan.net/fanfic/res/2024.html and had porny chapters here: http://www.tf2chan.net/afanfic/res/4949.html Both of these threads have chapters 1-12 of the current arc, and we'll start this thread with part 13.

This arc, and other stories that may be posted here afterwards, are companion pieces to Respawn of the Dead, found here: http://www.tf2chan.net/fanfic/res/17.html and here http://www.tf2chan.net/fanfic/res/1146.html I suggest you RotD before you read the Companion Tales.

Enough of this bullshit, let's get to the content.


Scout couldn’t eat. His appetite was completely gone. Everyone else was eating, and most of them were talking. Heavy and Medic were completely silent, both of them seemingly ignoring everybody else at the table. Soldier was rattling off about something very loudly, but Scout wasn’t paying attention. Every time he tried to banish the image of Heavy and Medic fucking out of his mind, it only seemed to be burned deeper into his mind’s eye. The rippling of the flesh, the moaning and grunting, that look of absolute terror as Medic turned his head to the Scout… Scout had walked in on his parents having sex, as a child, and he thought that he couldn’t happen upon anything worse than that. He was wrong. So very, very wrong.


Scout jerked up from his previously slumped position, turning his head to look at the Soldier, who was looking at him expectantly from underneath his helmet. “Whuh… what?” He stammered.

“I asked you a question, maggot, and I expect an answer!” Soldier barked.

“I… uh… I didn’t hear,” Scout answered, wincing as he spoke. Soldier had recently gotten into the habit of taking with entrenching tool with him everywhere he went, and he did not shy away from clobbering anybody and everybody that gave him lip.

The blow Scout expected never came. Soldier sneered and made a dissatisfied noise, and relaxed a bit. “Goddamned /kids/ these days don’t listen to authority,” he muttered. “When I was your age, I /listened/ to my elders! None of this ‘civil disobedience’ or ‘rock and roll’ crap.”

“An' I’m sure ya walked 15 miles t’ school every day in th’ snow, too, eh?” Sniper quipped.

“As a matter of fact, it was /twenty/ miles!” Soldier barked. “Bet they don’t have snow like that in Australia!”

“Depends on where ya are,” Sniper answered. “Most of it’s desert.”

Soldier snorted. “That’s what I figured.”

“Wot’s that supposed t’ mean?” Sniper asked.

“Oh, God, not zis again,” Spy muttered.

“You would not last a /day/ if you lived where I’m from, you gangly wombat!” Soldier challenged, jabbing a finger in Sniper’s direction. “You’d go missing and later turn up as a goddamned popsicle come springtime!”

“Ha! That’s a laugh,” Sniper said. “You ever been to Australia? /Every living thing on th’ bloody continent is trying to kill you./”

“Oh no! I sure wouldn’t want to run into a surly koala bear!” Soldier said sarcastically.

“Drop bears, mate,” Sniper said simply.

“Drop bears?” Soldier asked. “What in the bright blue hell is a ‘drop bear?’”

“They’re like koala bears, but bigger,” Sniper explained. “And they’re carnivorous.”

“Is that so?” asked Soldier incredulously.

“Yeah,” said Sniper. “What they do is they sit up in th’ trees, waitin’ fer anybody stupid enough to walk underneath them. An’ when they see somebody walk by, they let go an’ WHAM!” He clapped his hands together for emphasis. “Bite their bleedin’ faces off th’ poor wankah.” He looked over to Soldier, trying to assess whether or not the American bought his story or not.

“Drop bears… huh…” Soldier said.

“Aw, c’mon, Soldier, ya don’t actually b’lieve that, do ya?” Engineer asked.

“I b’lieve ‘im,” Demoman said.

“Stop encouragin’ him, Demo,” Engineer chided.

“I’m not encouragin’ ‘im!” Demoman said innocently.

“About how big is a drop bear, anyway?” Soldier asked.

“Oh, pretty big,” Sniper said. “Most of ‘em can get up t’ be about th’ size of a sheepdog, but I’ve heard rumors about a small few that get up t’ bein’ th’ size of a man.”

“Jesus,” Soldier muttered, turning his head as Sniper tried his best not to burst out laughing.

“Very funny, Sniper,” Engineer said. “Ya wanna tell us about some man-eatin’ kangaroos, next?”

“Oh, you’ve heard of ‘em?” Sniper asked wryly.

“Ze sheer amount of intellectual stimulation from zese dinner table conversations is staggering,” Spy deadpanned.

Scout let out a nervous little laugh, and looked up, his gaze accidentally meeting Medic’s. Medic’s eyes were smoldering, burning into Scout, serving as a reminder of what would happen if he dared breathe a word of what he had seen. This, in turn, only reminded Scout of what he had seen, and suddenly he felt sick to his stomach all over again.

He pushed his plate away fro him and got up. “I’m, uh, not feelin’ so good,” He said. “I’m gonna go lie down.”

“Maybe you should have Doc look at ya,” Engineer suggested, looking concerned.

“I zink he’ll be fine if he sleeps it off,” Medic said, his voice tinged with menace.

“Yeah… that…” Scout said, nodding almost violently. “Bye.” He walked out of the dining hall rather quickly, and the rest of the team members watched him go. Heavy reached across the table and grabbed Scout’s plate, pulling it in front of him.

Soldier shook his head. “Kids these days,” he grumbled. He then turned his attention back to Sniper. “So, about those man-eating kangaroos…”


There was a light rapping on the door to Scout’s room. He hugged himself tighter, and curled his body into the shape of a question mark. “Who’s there?” He asked.

“It’s Engineer,” said the voice on the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

He didn’t answer right away. He realized he had forgotten to lock the door when the knob twisted with a click and the door swung open with a creak. Scout picked his head up to see Engineer standing in the doorway, holding his hardhat in his hands.

“What’s wrong, boy?” Engineer asked.

“It’s nothin’, I’m fine,” Scout said, turning away from the Texan. “Just leave me alone, all right?”

Engineer didn’t listen. Instead, he closed the door behind him, and sat on the edge of Scout’s bed. Scout waited for him to say something, but nothing came. He suddenly realized Engineer was waiting for him to speak first. He sat up and looked at Engineer, who was sitting patiently, his helmet in his lap.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone!” Scout said.

“Yer not sick, are ya?” Engineer asked. “‘Least not th’ kinda sick yer wantin’ us t’ think.”

Scout didn’t answer. He rolled back over on his side away from Engineer, and stared at the wall.

“Look, nobody’s gonna hold it against ya if yer feelin’ homesick,” Engineer said. “Yer in a new place, far away from home, it’s only natural t’ start yearnin’ for yer family.”

“I’m not homesick.” Scout closed his eyes, as though this would make Engineer go away. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings like a goddamned girl, and he certainly didn’t want Medic carving him up like a jack-o-lantern if he dared so much hint at what he saw. Just go away, Engie, he thought. Just go away and do us both a favor.

“Well, /somethin’s/ th’ matter,” Engineer said. “Listen, you need to git somethin’ off yer chest, you can tell ole’ Hardhat. I know how t’ keep a secret.”

That last word caused Scout to stir a bit. Could he trust Engineer? He’d always seemed to be the most reliable out of all the members of the team. He suddenly wanted to spill his guts to this man, if only to alleviate this horrible feeling, just like he used to do with his mother as a young boy. The thought of vivisection at the hands of the team doctor was now battling with the desire to confess to Engineer. But he couldn’t give this up so easy.

“It’s none a’ your business,” Scout said.

Engineer sighed. “Suit yerself,” he said, getting up. “Thought it was worth a shot.”

Scout could hear his footsteps fading away. He sat up, and saw Engineer’s hand was hovering over the doorknob. Dammit, that son of a bitch /knew/ Scout was going to talk, and he was just /waiting/.

“Jesus, what are you, my mom or something?” Scout asked.

“Last I checked, I wasn’t,” Engineer said with a chuckle. “I’m just a man who feels a compulsion to solve any problem that he comes across.”

“Ya know, fer a guy who holes himself up in a work shop all day, ya sure are a nosy motherfucker,” Scout said, crossing his arms.

“Watch yer mouth, son,” Engineer said. He turned away from the door, walking back to the bed. Scout wasn’t sure who was playing who, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about it too much. “Cursin’s a nasty habit.”

“This comin’ from a guy who invented a robot gun with rocket launchers,” Scout said.

“I didn’t come here t’ argue about our priorities concerning civility, Scout,” Engineer said, more serious now. “Now, you ready t’ open up t’ ole’ Engineer, or should I jus’ leave?”

Quite suddenly, Medic’s warning rang in Scout’s head again, and the hesitation came back. He could practically feel his emotions ping-ponging back and forth, and Engineer seemed to sense this.

“I don’t think I should be tellin’ you man,” Scout said. “Doc’ll kill me if I tell anybody!” That last sentence spilled out of his mouth unconsciously, and he clapped his hand over his mouth as though he were attempting to catch those treacherous little words and shove them back inside.

“Doc?” Engineer asked. He sat back down on the bed, and lifted his goggles, placing them up high upon his brow. “What’s th’ Doc got t' do with this?”

“Nothin’, forget I said anythin’,” Scout said quickly.

“Is he hidin’ somethin’?” Engineer asked.

“Y-yes?” Scout stammered.

“Look, I’m not fixin’ t’ play twenty questions with ya here, Scout. Somethin’s eatin’ at ya, an’ if this secret between you an’ Doc is /dangerous/, I think th’ rest of us have a right t’ know.” He put a hand on Scout’s shoulder and leaned in close. “He’s not turnin’ traitor on us, is he?”

“Naw, it’s… nothin’ like that…” Scout said. “It’s /worse/.”

Engineer became visibly tense as worst-case scenarios played out in his head. “Worse?” He asked gravely.

“Yeah,” Scout said, obviously stalling. “Oh God… what I saw…”

“S’all right, Scout, take yer time,” Engineer said. He knew he couldn’t rush the boy, as much as his curiosity and several increasingly grisly scenarios were gnawing at his brain. “What d’ya see?”

“Promise me you ain’t gonna tell anybody,” said Scout.

“I promise,” said Engineer. He hoped he sounded as confident as he wanted, because by the sound of things, he wasn’t sure if that was a promise he could keep.

“All right…” Scout said, looking down at his lap and trying to gather both his thoughts and the words he was going to say. “So, I was walkin’ past the infirmary, lookin’ for Pyro, since I was bored an’ I didn’t have anybody to hang out wit', y’know? So, I’m walkin’, right, an’ I hear this /screamin’/ like somebody’s in pain, an’ I just stop in my tracks.” He looked over at the Engineer, who only nodded for him to continue. “An’ of course, y’know, I hear screamin’ like that, I think somebody’s in trouble, like maybe the BLU Spy got in the base or somethin’. An’ I heard another one, an’ it’s the Doc, an’ he sounds like he’s bein’ tortured or somethin’. I dinnit’ remember that he had called Heavy in there earlier, an’ I rush over there with my bat out, not thinkin’, to find out what’s goin’ on.”

He brought his hands up over his head, and his voice got shakier. “An’ so, I go rushin’ over there, an’ I’m listenin’, and I just hear more moanin’ like Medic’s about to pass out or some shit, an’ I go in there, tryin’ not ta make too much noise, so I figure I can surprise whoever’s attackin’ him. I dinnit’ see em’ until I got past Doc’s desk an’ turned my head, an’ then /I saw them/…”

“Saw who?” Engineer asked. “Medic an’ th’ Spy?”

Scout shook his head. “No… BLU Spy wasn’t there… It was Medic an’ /Heavy/… an’…” His throat bobbed and that horrible mental image came rushing back into his brain. “An’ /Heavy was fuckin’ him/.”

Engineer’s face went blank. His first immediate thought was being thankful that Medic hadn’t turned traitor or was being tortured or was torturing somebody else. But this was quickly cast aside when what Scout had said sank in, and Engineer found himself unable to come up with a proper response. Scout was looking at him, his eyes wide, and obviously the boy was traumatized. Engineer found himself letting out a nervous little laugh. “Well,” he said. “I gotta admit, that ain’t nearly as bad as I was expectin’…”

“What, what were you expecting?” Scout asked, sounding very offended. “That ain’t fuckin’ funny, man, you try walkin’ in on two guys doin’ it… ‘specially an ole guy an’ a fat guy!”

“What’d I tell you about that swearin’?” Engineer scolded.

“Fuck you, ya didn’t have Heavy’s dick in your face, didjya?” Scout exploded. Engineer tried to shush him, and Scout lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “They fuckin’ saw me and my bat fuckin’ dropped out of my hand an’ then Heavy’s liftin’ me up by my ankle an’ his junk was /in my goddamned face/ after it had just been in Medic’s ass…”

“Take it easy, Scout,” said Engineer. “You’ve been through quite the ordeal there, I can’t blame ya for bein’ upset.”

“Yeah, that’s puttin’ it lightly… Christ…” Scout covered his face with his hands. “Medic said he would friggin’ /torture/ me if I told anybody an’ I told you an’ you gotta keep this a secret, Hardhat!”

“I don’t think that’s th’ sort of thing we should be tellin’ ev’rybody anyways,” Engineer said.

“You sure?” Scout asked, his attitude shifting so fast Engineer felt he was going to get whiplash. “I mean, we got two fags on the team, shouldn’t the rest of the guys know?”

“Boy, Doc /threatened your life/ if you told anybody, an’ then ya tell /me/, then tell me t’ keep a secret, an’ now ya wanna tell th’ whole team?” Engineer shook his head in disbelief. “Do you even /know/ how dumb that sounds?”

“You guys could protect me!” Scout said. “We could get ‘em kicked off th’ team, ‘cause I’m pretty sure cock-suckin’s against the rules.”

“That’s none a’ our business,” Engineer said firmly. “We ain’t tellin’ anybody.”

“What?” Scout looked at Engineer as though the man had grown another head. “Seriously? You’re just gonna let ‘em get away with that shit?”

Engineer sighed, not bothering to admonish Scout further on his foul mouth. “I’m not sayin’ I approve a’ what they’re doin’, ‘cause I don’t. Personally, I think homosexuality is unnatural an’ perverted.”

“Then we’re on the same page here,” Scout said. “What’s the problem, then?”

“Th’ problem is, son, that Doc is fixin’ to slice you open like a frog in a junior high science class, an’ I really don’t wanna see that happen to ya,” Engineer placed a hand on Scout’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “‘Sides, they might not be able t’ help it, an’ it got nothin’ t’ do with them bein’ able to do their jobs. An’ as long as they’re doin’… y’know, /that/… to each other, than nobody’s getting’ hurt.”

“What about me? I’m traumatized ovah here!” Scout cried. “It’s gonna be hauntin’ my nightmares!”

“Th’ way I see it, it could a’ been a lot worse,” Engineer said. “An’ as long as we keep mum on this, then we’ll both be safe. ‘Cause I sure wouldn’t want anythin’ t’ happen t’ ya, y’hear?”

Scout nodded. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Hardhat.” He said, sounding a bit morose.

“Hey, buck up, son. Let’s not dwell on such unpleasant thoughts, eh?” said Engineer, wrapping an arm around Scout’s shoulder and giving him a pat, which caused Scout to flinch a bit. The Texan withdrew his arm, and sighed, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes. “If ya need t’ talk t’ me again, I’ll be in th’ work shop.” With that he got off the bed, and left, shutting the door softly behind him, leaving Scout alone again.

He paused in the hallway, sniffing the air tentatively. For a brief, fleeting moment, he thought he could smell the acrid fumes of a cigarette. He glanced both ways down the hallway, and suddenly felt anxiety chewing at him. He had to be imagining things. And even if he wasn’t, that scent pretty much lingered wherever Spy happened to be. And it wasn’t like he was the only one who smoked. Yes… he was just being paranoid. Nobody here, he thought. Just mosey along like nothing happens before anybody sees you acting like a dang fool.

Engineer scuttled back to his workshop, and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. And as soon as he was out of view, the timer on Spy’s cloak ran out, and he materialized by the door to Scout’s room. It was a close call, to be sure, but it was worth it. Spy, of course, already knew about the affair between the doctor and the Soviet, but now that Scout and Engineer knew... they were fair game. The cat was clawing its way out of the bag, and all it needed was a little push towards the opening. Why not give it the nudge it needed?

He strolled in the opposite direction, until he stopped in front of the door he was looking for. Gently, he rapped his knuckles on the door, right underneath the crudely painted sign on it that read “WAR ROOM.”

“State your name and rank, Private!” barked the voice from inside.

“It’s me,” Spy said. “I wish to request an audience wiz you. I have just gazzered some information of vital importance.”

Soldier opened the door, peering up at Spy from under his helmet, and then looking him up and down suspiciously. “Anybody with you?”

“Of course not,” Spy said. “Now, are you going to let me in or what?”

“Affirmative! We were just having a think tank. Enter.”

The American stepped aside, letting the Spy in, but never taking his wary gaze off of him. He quickly shut the door behind them, and Spy scanned over the table still set up in the middle of the room. Seated at the table were the Soldier’s entrenching tool and a sack of potatoes, both of which were propped upright in chairs. Spy could not help but notice the absence of any other members of RED Team.

Before Spy had a chance to make a scathing comment on this oddity, Soldier spoke up. “So, Spy, about this information you’ve gathered… Anything on any new strategies BLU might be testing out? Or theoretical secret weaponry?”

“Nozzing like zat, I’m afraid,” Spy said. “Zis is somezing far more… /internal/.”

“Internal?” Soldier asked. “Do we have a traitor in our midst?”

“Not a traitor, per say, but I have recently stumbled upon word of members of zis very team in flagrant violation of company protocol.” It had been fifteen minutes since Spy last had a cigarette, and he pulled out his disguise kit, plucking out a cigarette and twirling in between his fingers. “I zhought zat zis should be brought to your attention.”

“Rule breakers, eh?” Soldier asked. “Well, then, don’t leave me hanging here, Spy. I demand names. And I assure you, they /will/ be properly disciplined.” He cracked his knuckles for emphasis.

Spy placed his cigarette between his lips, and deftly pulled a lighter from his pocket, flipping it open and lighting the tip of drug of choice with a soft, orange glow. He took a deep breath, and let it out in a steady stream. He knew the Soldier was impatient, but he could not help but drag thing out for some beautiful dramatic tension. Satisfied, he met Soldier’s steady stare with a smirk.

“It’s ze Medic and ze Heavy,” he said. “And you will not believe what ze Scout caught zem doing…”
Marked for deletion (old)
>> No. 3898
>> No. 3899
>> No. 3900
For a moment I thought Engineer was going to be Spy. Then I FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF'd.
>> No. 3901
>> No. 3903

Same here! Oh that fuckin' Spy, I swear...
>> No. 3910
he's just gotta ruin everybody's day...
>> No. 3911
spy you damn cumdrinking assbucket !
>> No. 3912
The homophobia here is turning my stomach, and Spy is a dire asshole, but I really like Soldier having a think-tank with Shovel and a sack of 'taters. I notice that the 'taters don't show up in later stories... traitor 'taters?
>> No. 3914
At first I was all :D (at the Sniper and Solly convo) but then I D:.
Damn Spah!
>> No. 3917
hahaha, drop bears.
With this turn in events the next chapter should be veeeeery interesting.
>> No. 3918
First part was hilarious. Loved it. Also the think tank, hahaha...
>> No. 3919

Considering it's the late 60's, I thought it wouldn't be very realistic for everybody to be all "Yaaaayyy, we accept you for who you are!" Also remember that this is essentially a prequel to RotD, so yeah.

The sack of potatoes' fate will be determined later.
>> No. 3922
Oh god, I was laughing at the Sniper/Soldier conversation, then I got all "OH SHIT D:" at the end
>> No. 3925
>> No. 3935
Oh Spy. You little French bastard. I hate you.
>> No. 3941
wait drop bears aren't real? MY WHOLE LIFE IS A LIE.

i love your sniper.

>> No. 3946
You're sick person. You're going to have the sack of potatoes turned into french fries and fed to the RED team.
>> No. 3971

Yeah, I know it's realistic. That's why it's churning my guts. I don't think YOU'RE homophobic I'm just worried for our Medic and Kuschelbar.
>> No. 3973

I didn't think you thought I was.

I just got concerned that I struck too much of a nerve. Especially since the next chapter is looking to be worse...
>> No. 3975
Just putting in my two cents; I think it'd be hilarious if Soldier's response was something like, "Is that all? Of course they're queers - they're commies and nazis! Who else would have dirty homosexual sex? Now get out before I call you up on insubordination!"
'cept in all caps.
>> No. 3976
Ahaha, the dinner conversation.
I love your writings.
>> No. 3981

That would be a bit incongruous with his behavior in RotD, though, and not what I have planned. Not a bad idea, though.
>> No. 3993
Dun dun DUNNNN
>> No. 3994

Also, I'm worried for Scout.
>> No. 3995
Oh lord, what'll happen NEXT?

Damn you, spy...DAMN YOU!
>> No. 4001
/Every living thing on th’ bloody continent is trying to kill you./BAHAHAHAHA.

“Ze sheer amount of intellectual stimulation from zese dinner table conversations is staggering,” Spy deadpanned. Lawl for sarcasm... Hehe

Thank you for starting my morning off right~ Will finish reading the last half after school -can't wait-
>> No. 4004
I laughed so hard at the dinner table conversation. Your Sniper is so incredibly full of win. And then Spy had to go and be a huge dick, and my heart sank...
>> No. 4010
Just finished the last half.... Spy's a bitch as usual = /
>> No. 4015
Part 14 of the current arc. Not sure how much longer this is going to go on. Not much, I'd wager. Anything after this will probably shift away from Heavy/Medic fluff and... onto some other shit, I don't know.



Medic had noticed something was… off in the behavior of his teammates in the battle that day. Scout acting nervous whenever he got into close proximity of the doctor was to be expected, but he started to notice odd behaviors towards him in his other teammates. When he had asked Engineer to set up a teleporter for him and Heavy, the Texan obliged, but seemed a bit jittery, and too eager to please. It was as though he were deathly afraid of upsetting the doctor. Soldier, too, was acting different. He never was fond of Medic, but now he was never bothering to call for him, and every time Medic went to heal him, Soldier would rocket-jump away, sometimes blowing himself up into an explosion of blood and gristly little gibs.

This lack of cooperation led to their defeat that day. The match was over rather quickly, and this was an especially low blow, since the team had only just started to function as a unit and win the last few rounds. BLU took the opportunity to add insult to injury (or, perhaps, just injury to /more/ injury), by giving their enemies one last trip to their Respawn room. Both Medic and Heavy had been done away with by the BLU Demoman’s grenades, and found themselves standing back in Respawn, with most of the other team members.

“Man, this is bullshit!” Scout exclaimed. “It’s supposed to be a friggin’ cease-fire after the match is called! What is this?”

Spy retreated into the Resupply area, and threw off his flaming jacket, stomping it to put it out. He noticed that the rest of his teammates were coming out of the Respawn area, and not one of them looked too happy about it.

But the unhappiest of all was Soldier. He was livid, looking like steam might come out of his ears or a blood vessel on his face might burst from the pressure alone. “Briefing room,” he growled through gritted teeth. “All of you. NOW.”

“You okay, Solly?” Engineer asked. “Yer lookin’ redder than a beet over there.”

“I SAID, GET TO THE BRIEFING ROOM, MAGGOT!” Soldier bellowed. He stormed out of the room, stomping loudly as he walked.

“We ‘ave a briefin’ room?” Sniper asked. “How come nobody told me?”

“We’ve yet to use it, since ze Soldier prefers us to meet in his room,” Spy explained. “It’s near ze intelligence room. If you will please follow me…”

Spy led the RED Team down further in the base. Medic could have sworn he saw Engineer and Scout exchange uneasy glances, but he hoped he was just imagining things. Something was wrong, and he hoped to God it wasn’t what he thought it was. Heavy seemed to sense the doctor’s apprehension, and offered the him a smile when their eyes met. They didn't say anything; that look Heavy gave him spoke volumes. Everything will be okay, the Russian suggested nonverbally. Don’t worry so much.

And they descended.


The briefing room was dimly lit, with most of the light focusing on the long table underneath. There were nine chairs surrounding it, four on each side and one at the head. Naturally, Soldier claimed the head of the table, not bothering to actually sit, and the others took their seats. Medic and Heavy sat next to each other, and Medic found himself shooting Scout a cautionary glare across the table. Scout was seated by Soldier, and Engineer was beside Scout, drumming his fingers on the table nervously; Sniper and Demoman took seats beside him. Pyro claimed a seat next to Heavy, and the Spy was on the other side of Medic, up next to Soldier. Once everyone was seated, Soldier leaned over the table, and scanned over the members of his team.

“Glad to see all of you here, Gentlemen,” He said, sounding much more collected than he had only minutes prior. “I can imagine you have a few questions; questions that I /will/ answer. One of them being, ‘Why are we meeting /here/ instead of the War Room?’” A few of the men at the table gave wary nods. Soldier stood up straight and held his arms behind his back. “The answer is because the meetings in the War Room are reserved solely for matters concerning the battlefield. What I am about to discuss with you today is of a totally different nature, and I dare say it’s /much/ more threatening.”

Soldier was now pacing back and forth as he spoke, his eyes glinting from underneath his helmet. “Men, yesterday, I got some rather disturbing news from a source that wishes to remain anonymous. And let me tell, you, I was shocked and disgusted, but I was not surprised. Something like this always seems to happen in situations like these…”

“Somethin' like /wot/ happens?” Sniper asked, annoyed. “Get to th’ bloody point already, we don’t have all day.”

“You obviously have no appreciation for dramatic tension, bushman,” Spy said sardonically. “Let ze man continue.”

“Thank you, Spy,” Soldier said. “Now, I’m sure you all know me well enough to know that there are three… no, wait, /four/ things that I hate more than anything else on God’s green earth. I hate hippies. I hate Communists. I hate Nazis. And yet, I have /tolerated/ the presence of all three on my team.”

“How many times do I have t’ tell ya, I’m not a bleedin’ hippie!” Sniper shouted.

“Could’ve fooled me, what with those… Rolling Rocks or The Why or whatever the hell that garbage is that you call music.”

“Th' Rolling Stones and Th' Who,” Sniper corrected, sounding clearly annoyed.

“Whatever! I don’t care! I didn’t bring all of us down here to talk about your goddamned devil music!” Soldier barked. “Like I said, I’ve tolerated a /lot/ from you people. I have tolerated far more than any normal, God-fearing, red-blooded American patriot should. But yesterday I learned something that made me sick to my stomach; that we’ve been sharing space with something worse than hippies or Commies and almost worse than Nazis.” He stopped pacing, his bugged out eyes peeping out from under his helmet. “We have /homosexuals/ among us.”

Medic went rigid. Soldier could see him bristling like a cat in a room full of ghosts. Heavy remained stoic, but Soldier could see the Russian’s fear in his sweating brow. The American grinned inwardly. He had them both where he wanted, and he was going to enjoy watching them squirm.

With his entire audience dumbstruck, he stalked along the length of the table, still pacing back and forth. “Now, I know this sort of thing is known to happen in places like prisons, or anywhere where there are lonely men with no access to women for miles. Doesn’t make it any less /wrong/, mind you, but it happens. Some of you could try and justify this behavior by saying that. It wouldn’t make a lick of difference, though, because these are not lonely men we are talking about. These are cock-worshipping, pillow-biting, fudge-packing, limp-wristed /fairies/ who would turn down fifty good pussies just to get at a fat boy’s asshole!”

“Take it easy there, Soldier,” Engineer said, sounding quite nervous. “That’s a pretty weighty accusation there. Maybe yer jes’ jumpin’ t’ conclusions…”

“‘Jumping to conclusions?’ HA!” Soldier threw back his head as he laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were /hiding/ something, Engineer.”

“Ain’t hidin’ nothin’,” Engineer said. “‘Sides, ain’t no rule in our contract here that says you’re not allowed t’ be a homosexual.”

“WRONG!” Soldier bellowed. “Section eight, paragraph five, line three of said contract states that ‘Any employees of RED co. engaging in fraternization with fellow mercenaries or employees of BLU co. may be reprimanded up to and including termination of their employment by RED Co. and its affiliates.’ Isn’t that right, Spy?”

“Yes, zat is correct,” Spy said nonchalantly. “Alzhough, zat clause refers specifically to actual /encounters/. Ze company does not much care who you fancy, so much as you keep your ‘ands to yourself.”

“Well, /I/ do!” Soldier said. “And I’ll be goddamned if I subject myself to living with /deviants/!”

“Ya don’t even have any proof, do ya?” Engineer challenged. “Why don’cha jes’ drop th’ whole thing ‘fore ya go makin’ yerself look like a dang fool?”

“Oh, but I /do/ have proof,” Soldier replied without missing a beat. “In fact, I have a witness sitting right here in this very room. Isn’t that right, /Scout/?” He loomed over Medic as he said this, and all eyes turned to the young man, who had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time.

“Who, me?” Scout squeaked. “I dinnit’ see nothin’.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Soldier said. He leaned closer over Medic, who twitched involuntarily. Scout looked at the doctor helplessly, pleading for mercy with a sad puppy expression on his face. This seemed to inspire more revulsion from the doctor than any sympathy.

“Don’t look at him, look at me,” Soldier commanded. “In the eyes. Now, tell me what you saw, and I swear to God if you lie to me, I will send you back to your momma in a box.”

“I can’t,” Scout said, wincing and trying his best not to look at Medic. “I promised I wouldn’t tell…”

“Well, you told /somebody/, all right, didn’t you?” Soldier said. “You couldn’t keep your goddamned mouth shut and you /told/ somebody.” He looked at the Engineer. “Am I correct?”

“You best stop this right now, Soldier,” Engineer warned. “Ain’t no good gonna come of this. It ain’t yer business an’ they ain’t harmin’ nobody.”

“Is that so?” Soldier asked. “You know who they are then.”

Engineer hesitated before admitting “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Well, who are they, then?” Sniper asked. “Yer building; up so much bloody suspense over who here are poofters, why don’cha jes’ spit it out an’ be done with it?”

“I am.”

Everyone sitting at the table turned to Heavy. His expression was calm, in clear contrast to that of Medic, who was starting to panic.

“Heavy, please, don’t do zis,” he pleaded softly.

“I tink everyvone suspect us anyvay,” said Heavy. “I do not care if they know. I love you, Doktor.”

A hush fell over the room. Soldier backed away from Medic and Heavy, as though their sexuality was some sort of contagious disease. Medic looked both dumbfounded and horrified, though his expression softened when Heavy grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“Jesus,” said Sniper, breaking the silence. “I thought you were jokin’ around, Demo.”

“I dinnit’ /actually/ think they were arse bandits!” Demoman said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “‘Though, lookin’ back on it, I prolly should a’ known.”

“Yeah, that does explain a lot…” Sniper said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Heavy, let go of my hand, bitte,” Medic said in a monotone voice. “I am going to need it for strangling Herr Scout.”

“Nyet, Doktor,” Heavy said. “Do not be mad at leetle Scout. Is not his fault he is stupid.”

“Hey!” Scout protested. “‘Least I’m not suckin’ wrinkly old man dick every night!”

“Do not push your luck,” Heavy said threateningly.

“Well, isn’t that cute,” Soldier sneered. “But it’s /wrong/, and I will not tolerate any queers in my unit, and I don’t expect the rest of my team to do so.”

“Urr durrn currr,” Pyro said with a shrug.

“I didn’t understand a word you said,” Soldier shouted. “I’m not counting you unless you take that mask off and speak with us face to face.”

Pyro recoiled, shaking his head sheepishly and looking as though he was going to duck underneath the table. "Nurrr."

“An’ wot if I said I dinnit’ care?” Demoman asked. “Would ye say /I/ dinnit count either?”

Soldier looked surprised at Demoman’s outburst. “Well, do you?”

“No,” said Demoman. “Th’ way I see it, we’re all a bunch a’ freaks out ‘ere anyhow. I donnae see how two o’ us bein’ fannybaws makes much a’ difference.”

“That,” added Sniper, “an’ I’m not particularly lookin’ t’ be on Heavy or Doc’s bad side.”

“What!” Soldier cried out. “Don’t tell me the two of you are queers too!”

“Course not!” Sniper said, looking insulted by the accusation. “I’m just not lookin’ to have my face mashed into a pulp!”

“‘Sides, I know wot it’s like t’ be singled oot fer bein’ different,” said Demoman. “You try growin’ up as a black orphan in Scotland sometime, see ‘ow you fare.”

Soldier snorted with disapproval. “That’s different. I don’t have any problem with colored people.”

“So, as long as /you/ donnae ‘ave a problem with somebody, they’re fine, eh? Is tha’ ‘ow it is, then? An’ wot if ye did ‘ave a problem wi ‘colored people?’ Would ye be tryin’ t’ git me kicked off th’ team too?”

“Of course not!” Soldier barked. “There’s no rule against /you/ being here!”

Demoman stared at the Soldier, completely agog.

“What?” Soldier asked, unaware that he had deeply offended his Scottish teammate. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Soldier, I think you should do yerself a favor an’ stop talkin’,” Engineer said sagely. “This was a bad idea from th’ get-go an’ yer only diggin’ yerself into a deeper hole.”

“You’re defending this /perversion/ too, Tex?” Soldier asked. "And here I thought you were protecting your own ass."

“It ain’t interfering with their ability to perform their jobs, as far as I can see,” Engineer said. “I personally don’t approve but I don’t think anything I could say or do would discourage ‘em, an’ as long as they keep t' themselves, I don’t care what they do.”

“Engineer, Sniper, Demoman and Pyro are all credit to team,” Heavy said, smiling as his confidence was rising.

“They’re all traitors to the team,” Soldier snarled. “I’m disgusted by the lot of you.”

“You ‘ave not exactly made ze most convincing argument,” Spy said. “Zey broke part of ze contract, plain and simple. Ze real question is whezzer or not we are going to report zis to ze Announcer.”


Just about everyone besides the Spy jumped in their seats at the sound of the Announcer’s voice booming from the loud-speakers in the top corners of the room. Medic felt his heart sink and found himself squeezing Heavy’s hand in anxiety. Heavy reciprocated the gesture, only much more gently.

“You have, eh?” Soldier asked. “And what do you have to say about this, then?”


“B-but what about the contract?” Soldier stammered. “They’re in clear violation of-”


“Interesting,” Spy said, pulling over the sole ash-tray on the table and tapping off his cigarette. “One ‘as to wonder why such a clause would be kept in ze contract, zen.”


“True,” Spy mused. “How silly of me.”

“NOW, ALL OF YOU GROW A SET AND HANDLE THIS LIKE ADULTS. ANNOUNCER, OUT.” And the speakers buzzed back into silence.

“Is it just me,” Scout asked, “Or did she seem a little /too/ excited about the whole sex parties thing?”

Medic got up from his chair, staring blankly in front of him like a man in a dream. He looked at Heavy briefly before he headed for the door. On his way, he brushed past Soldier, who shouted something at him, but he didn’t hear. He left the Briefing Room and found himself walking down the hallway, not even entirely sure where he was headed, feeling like a ghost walking a familiar path it had haunted for years. He almost hadn’t noticed Heavy coming up from behind him, and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Medic turned around slowly, and saw the Soviet behind him, offering him a faint smile.

“Is okay, Doktor,” he said. “Ve do not have to hide anymore.”

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Wrapping his arms around Heavy, he buried his face in the larger man's chest, and cried. He hated himself for how undignified he must have looked, how pathetic and weak and girlish, squeezing Heavy as though he were a giant teddy bear. He expected the Russian to tell him to stop being such a baby, but Heavy said nothing. His lover simply hugged him back, rubbing his back and holding him tight. Medic felt as though he had been drowning, and only now had he come up to the surface for air, gasping for breath. He was, in fact, taking deep, gulping breaths as his tears were soaking into Heavy’s vest. Once his chest stopped going into spasms with choked sobs, he caught his breath, and leaned back away from Heavy, looking at his lover’s calm, friendly face.

“I’m sorry, Heavy,” he said, looking down in embarrassment. “I should not be crying.”

“You can cry this time,” Heavy said, lifting Medic’s chin so that their eyes met. “I vill tell no vone.”

“Zank you, Heavy,” Medic said, nuzzling the man’s shoulder. “Meine Liebling.”

“Vhat does zat mean?” Heavy asked.

Medic craned his neck up and brought his lips as close to Heavy’s ear as he could manage. “It means, ‘my Favorite,’” he whispered.

Heavy smiled. “You are my favorite too, Doktor.” He kissed the doctor’s forehead delicately. “Ve go back to Infirmary now, da?”

Medic nodded. “All right,” he said, and let himself be led off by Heavy. His lover’s hand almost enveloped his own, and they walked back to the infirmary together, feeling a beautiful kind of deliverance wash over both of them.


Soldier was doing push-ups on the floor of his room. He usually did this when he needed to think. His teammates had proven to be spineless worms; Spy especially. He was the one who brought this whole mess to his attention, and was satisfied to give it up when the Announcer declared her utter indifference to the subject. He felt most hurt by the Announcer, really. Being a Soldier, he was trained to follow orders, and he had no choice but to back down. That didn’t mean wasn’t bitter. He was. Now he was feeling like a blood-thirsty pit-bull on a chain, with his prey just out of reach.

His teammates, the Announcer, whoever else was running this… they didn’t care. He felt as though he were the only sane man among them. Well… Scout seemed to understand, but the kid was simply too threatened by the Commie and the Nazi to actually do anything against them. For all his talk about how tough he was all the damn time, he couldn’t prove himself to be tough when it mattered the most.

And now, there were faggots out in the open, sharing food, shelter, the /showers/ with him, and all he could do was sit back and watch. He knew what queers did to people. They could look like anybody, anybody at all… they could live in your home and pin you on your bed and /touch/ you and threaten to kill you if you dared squeal to your mother like a /girl/… or so he had heard.


Soldier jerked his head up, and stopped his push-ups. He looked around the room, checking to see if anyone was there. He was alone, though his entrenching tool and the sack of potatoes were propped up in the corner. He hadn’t been hearing things. He had heard his name clearly being said.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his eyes darting around for any spies that may have joined him.

/It’s me, Soldier./

He whipped his head around to face the shovel. It hadn’t been just him. That voice clearly came from his melee weapon. He got up off of the floor, and walked over to it. He kneeled down in front of his weapon to inspect it. “Who’s ‘me’?” He asked.

/Me,/ it said. /It’s Shovel./

“Huh,” said Soldier. “So, you /can/ talk, after all.”

/I’ve always been able to talk, Soldier,/ Shovel said. /I was just too busy listening./

“Last time something talked to me that wasn’t supposed to talk I got kicked out of army,” Soldier said warily. “Why should I listen to you?”

/Because I know how you feel, Soldier. I know your pain./

/Oh, Jesus, listen to you,/ said another voice, this one coming from the sack of potatoes. /Leave the poor man alone, he doesn’t need you preying on him./

“Oh, what, now /you’re/ talking too?” Soldier asked. “Listen here. I can buy Shovel being able to talk. But a sack of potatoes? That’s just silly.”

/I take great offense to that!/ the sack of potatoes protested.

/Don’t listen to the Colonel, Soldier. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,/ said Shovel dismissively. /He hasn’t known you as long as I have. Why, he only just got here on the last train! Besides, who’s going to listen to a sack of potatoes, anyway?/

/He brought me in here,/ the Colonel grumbled. /Besides, Soldier. You’re sick. In the head. I cannot possibly beat around the bush about this sort of thing, because quite frankly you’re one twist short of a Slinky.”

“I’m not sick,” Soldier growled. “And I’m not a Slinky, either.”

/Of course you aren’t, Soldier,/ Shovel cooed. /I know that. Colonel Taters is just rude and should know better than to speak out of turn. Why, he’s not even a real Colonel./

/How dare you!/ The Colonel gasped.

/Pick me up, Soldier/ Shovel commanded. /We should move this conversation to somewhere more private./

Soldier grabbed Shovel by the handle and picked it up gingerly, taking it to the far corner of the room, and turned his back on the Colonel.

/Fine then, Soldier! Don’t listen to me then! See what I care!/ The Colonel huffed.

/Don’t you worry about him, Soldier,/ Shovel said in a soothing voice. /You’re right. The team is in danger. We may not be able to do anything yet, but we can still make plans./

“I like the way you think, Shovel,” Soldier said. “I have to say, I’m glad you finally started talking. I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have somebody on my side.”

/I know, Soldier,/ Shovel said slyly. /I know./
>> No. 4016
Moral: Potatoes know things.
>> No. 4017
this is shaping up to be wonderful, Cat. Also, just a note since I'm trying to perfect writing Scottish accents, but you write Demoman's speech really well. I'll need to read over that again...
>> No. 4018


Because I am never happy with how I write Demo's speech.
>> No. 4019
Why Soldier, why? Shovel will only lead you down the path of the dark side! Damn you, Shovel! DAMN YOU!
>> No. 4021
Oh Engie, always the voice of reason. By the way, what was the gist of events of stuff that happened in the afanfic thread? I gather Scout walked in on Heavy and Medic servicing each other; anything else happen?
>> No. 4023
HAHA, oh man. Scout said exactly what I was thinking about the Announcer.
and I literally went 'Oh Shit' at the appearance of shovel. but the 3rd paragraph after the break, starting with Soldier.. it didn't even cross my mind at first, if I read into that correctly.
my god, Cat, you write so well. much <3
>> No. 4024
Heavy saying that he loves Medic in front of everyone made my heart melt. This chapter entertained and played with my emotions so thoroughly.

I'm a bit ashamed to admit it, but I think you're causing me to develop some sort of horrible crush on Shovel. He's just so... precious. In a very manipulative sort of way.
>> No. 4025
Upon a second reading, I can't believe I didn't catch what appears to be a hint at Soldier's past. My heartstrings. As if the shovel thing didn't torment me enough.
>> No. 4027
Heavy declaring his love in front of the team, and the ensuing reactions were beautiful. Your writing is credit to chan.
>> No. 4028
Man. You weren't kidding when you warned me after the last chapter, Cat. Bless the Demoman. Soldier... well fuck.
>> No. 4029
THAT...was a damn good chapter. Internet high fives for you, Cat!
>> No. 4033
Just wow. I'm emotionally tugged around all over the place!
Well done!
>> No. 4034
“Well, isn’t that cute,” Soldier sneered. “But it’s /wrong/FFFFFFFFF, was that a 2 Stupid Dogs reference?
>> No. 4035

Medic and Heavy have sex for the first time in part 10. In part 11, Spy finds out and gets bitter and overhears Sniper, Scout and Engineer talking about their families, Engie brings up his wife and Spy gets jealous because he wants to do him. He slinks off to his room, disguises himself as the Engineer and masturbates in a mirror, talking to himself the whole time and generally being a creeper. In part 12, a month has gone by, and it's established that there is some suspicion regarding Heavy and Medic's relationship. Heavy manages to actually be the more dominant of the two for once, after explaining that he feels their relationship has revolves too much around and decides to boss medic around for a bit, when Scout walks in on them. Scout flips out, is captured by Heavy, and threatened not to tell anybody. Then it goes to part 13, the OP post in this thread.

It's a shame, really, because I tried to work character development and studies into my porn, although I suppose I can understand not wanting to slog through the porny bits if you don't want to.
>> No. 4036
Thanks much Cat. Some of the stuff sounds a bit too... intense for my tastes to actually read in-depth (although Spy masturbating while disguised as Engie is genuinely creepy; props). Porn just isn't much my taste overall, so I really appreciate you helping me out by letting me know what I missed out on. : )
>> No. 4039

Protip: It's nice that you comment on people's fics with things you like and all, but nobody cares whether or not you like porn.
>> No. 4042
Don't be a dick.
>> No. 4046
Damn. I didn't know I could say this, but I feel sorry for Soldier, he's all alone with his madness, after all. It's good that Medic has someone close to hold on to; and yay! for almost everyone in the RED team. Pyro especially.

As for what you might write later on - just a suggestion, it's your choice after all - I'm all for more Heavy/Medic stuff, and maybe more on Demo/Sniper bromance, or Solly's past, or maybe something to cover BLU's side of the story and how it all went down in last week, to the point where BLU Scout runs out of the base waving arms in panic.
>> No. 4047
I have to say, the bit with the shovel was beyond brilliant. I always love that feeling you get when you read a fan-written story, and something is just so amazingly funny or so incredibly well-written that it practically becomes cannon in the reader's mind. And I have to say, I'm definitely regarding your Solly/Shovel/Potato bit with that kind of feeling. Love your work, and I hope you keep it up.
>> No. 4048
Shovel..you Silver-tongued DEVIL.

Colonel taters know's that all shovel will do is corrupt Soldier!
>> No. 4049
onto some other shit, I don't know. May I request Soldier/Shovel? You have secured this as an OTP in my mind...

“We have /homosexuals/ among us.”Oh, the horror...

“I do not care if they know. I love you, Doktor.”D'AWWW... have I ever told you I <3 your Heavy? 'Cause I totally do.

“I DON’T CARE IF THE LOT OF YOU WERE TO OIL YOURSELVES UP AND HAVE ACID-FUELED SEX PARTIES EVERY NIGHT.” All I can say is: What the fuck does Announcer do in her spare time?

squeezing Heavy as though he were a giant teddy bearHe totally is.

Colonel Taters I might be in love with you, Cat. Just maybe...
>> No. 4056
Makes me wonder how things would have gone differently if he had listened to Col. Taters instead of Shovel...

(Sage for museing)
>> No. 4057
May I request Soldier/Shovel?
Seconding this like burning.
>> No. 4063

It's already been done; didn't Tenny write it?
>> No. 4064

So did TeratoMarty. And since, in RotD canon, Soldier only got intimate with Shovel once (and both he and Shovel died later that evening), I was unsure if I'd actually go ahead and write it.


I was considering doing a couple of those, especially the outbreak in BLU base. Also, I'd like to do a Christmas special as well. But Soldier's past is one that I have planned out in my head but I'm not sure if I want to actually write it, since a part of me only wants to give out little bits and pieces and leave the rest to the reader's imaginations.
>> No. 4065
I LOVE YOU. OH GOD. There is a serious lack of Medic/Heavy material but I'm glad the one person who does give the pairing such love is so darn talented, too! Always a pleasure to read your writings. I await for your latest writings with the greatest anticipation, I could explode.
>> No. 4089

a part of me only wants to give out little bits and pieces and leave the rest to the reader's imaginations.
Thought so, it's a smart move. :)

Can't wait for the Christmas Special, I have a feeling that it's going to be amazing.
>> No. 4112
Particularly enjoyed this chapter <3. Heavy and Medic's little moment made me think of ROTD sad things and I baw'd. I'll always love your Heavy.
Whatever you decide to move on to after this story is done I'll totally read.
>> No. 4118
who would turn down fifty good pussies just to get at a fat boy’s asshole!”

>> No. 4133
>“I do not care if they know. I love you, Doktor.” You're the only reason why I start loving Heavy/Medic (like Kilo made me love Solly/Engie), and this line just made it better.

And Shovel, stop talking you bitch D:

(btw, it's "Mein Liebling", 'cause Heavy male)
>> No. 4199
“Well, isn’t that cute,” Soldier sneered. “But it’s /wrong/..."
>> No. 4330
Part 15 is now here, after that horrifying detour that was "With Apologies to Harlan Ellison." And by "lovely" I mean absolutely horrifying. Hopefully this will help you recover.


There was a weird sort of tension in the air around RED base that evening that hung around like a thick fog. That prevailing awkwardness permeated the atmosphere, inhibiting casual conversation, crippling any and all thoughts aside from dwelling on the bombshell that had been dropped on them all that day. Understandably, Medic and Heavy were not in the showers with everyone else. They hadn’t joined the rest of the team for dinner, either. Heavy was sent out to the kitchen to grab plates for him and the doctor, and he gave the Soldier a Look before he left. Later that night, the sound of Medic playing Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 5 in A could be heard again, after a lengthy absence of private concerts for his lover. After it was over, not ten minutes later much different sounds came from the Infirmary. Whether this was because the doctor felt that it was no longer necessary to silence himself and simply did not bother, or if he was being loud as a deliberate act to rub it in Soldier’s face, opinions in the matter would vary. Demoman, who slept in the closest room to the infirmary, was already questioning if defending the two of them had been such a wise idea after all, as he proceeded to carry out his nightly ritual of drinking until he eventually passed out.

Engineer, too, had been agonizing over whether or not he had made the right choice. Though it was true he had 11 PhDs, none of them were in psychology, and he found himself at a loss to assess whether or not the behavior of his teammates was a cause for concern. Any mental instability in the team’s doctor seemed to have little to do with him fancying men and more to do with him fancying pain, specifically dishing it out at the slightest whim. And Heavy, for as loud and frightening as he was on the battlefield, seemed to be one of the more well-adjusted members of the team, though that wasn’t really saying much. But Engineer had been raised believe that love was meant to be between a man and a woman. Simple as that. It wasn’t really a religious conviction either, at least not in his conscious mind. He never was too religious a man, even though his grandmother tried her best to imprint her beliefs on him when he was a boy. He was simply a man of science and logic, and though he believed that God existed, he focused more on trying to be amiable and getting along with people, rather than trying to take to heart the words of an archaic tome written thousands of years ago by people who thought the world was flat and the sun revolved around the earth. Even though he had defended Heavy and Medic’s affair that day, and it seemed to be the most logical choice to leave them be, he was still doubting himself.

He was sitting at his desk as he was thinking this, with a pen in one hand and several blank sheets of paper in front of him. Had he been back home in Texas, he probably would have discussed the matter with his wife. She would know what to do in a situation like this. She was always better with people than he was, and she had helped him come out of his shell in college and become more sociable. He owed her so much, really, and he felt lost without her there, always ready to lend him an ear, give whatever was on his mind some careful thought, and dispense her unfalteringly sound advice. But would she be able to advise him on this? He never had to come to her with anything like this before, and he wasn’t sure if this would violate the privacy of the two men in question, although judging from the faint, distant sounds coming from down the hall, privacy didn’t appear to be on the forefront of their minds. He looked back down at the virgin sheet in front of him, as he tapped his pen on his draft table, and tried his best to filter out the doctor’s groans from his ears.

Irene would listen to him, he thought. She would know what to do. He already had an idea of what she would say, but he needed to see it, to spill out his tumultuous thoughts to her and have her assure him that he did the right thing.

After much deliberation, he finally put his pen to the paper, and started to write.


Soldier was outside, alone, jogging around the RED base under the light of the steadily rising sun. He always saved the laps for last, after many one-armed push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks. Occasionally, Scout would join him for these early morning runs and remind Soldier of just how much older he was getting. Scout would wait for him and jog in place, looking at his watch as he checked his pulse and yelled at Soldier about how slow he was. The boy wasn’t with him this morning, and that was fine with Soldier. His shovel and a sack of potatoes he was using as stand-ins for actual company had started talking back to him, and he needed some time alone to himself. Their constant bickering was getting on his nerves.

Once satisfied by his morning workout, he walked back into the barn and deep into the RED base. He could smell the scent of sausage and eggs and toast from the kitchen, and his stomach growled in anticipation. When he arrived there, he saw Pyro by the stove, prodding sizzling eggs on the skillet with his spatula, humming to himself.

“‘MORNING, PRIVATE!” Soldier bellowed, causing Pyro to jolt, nearly flipping an egg out of the pan and onto the floor.

“Duurrn durr thuurrt!” Pyro whined. “Urrr skurrrd murr.”

“‘Scared you?’ Private, you should be /used/ to that by now,” Soldier said, marching over to inspect the eggs currently sizzling in the pan. “Don’t you have any bacon or anything?”

Pyro turned to Soldier and simply stared at him, tilting his head to the side slightly. Soldier could only guess what Pyro’s expression underneath the mask looked like, but he didn’t have time to question Pyro further when he heard the pantry door open.

“I could have sworn zat ve had anuzzah sack of potatoes in zere, I don’t know vhat happened to-” Medic was backing out of the pantry, and had stopped talking all together when he laid eyes on Soldier. His jaw clenched shut and his eyes narrowed, and Soldier reacted in kind. He was completely silent as he walked over towards Pyro without taking his eyes off of Soldier, looking like some dangerous animal defending his territory. Soldier sneered back at him, and found himself side-stepping away from the man. Pyro looked back and forth between them nervously, moving over to the side to check on the sausage.

“Sleep well?” Soldier asked, his voice tinged with vitriol.

“Fine, zank you,” Medic said icily.

“Is that so?” Soldier asked. “Because, from what I heard, it didn’t sound like you were doing much sleeping last night.”

“Oh, did ve keep you up?” Medic asked with mock innocence. “I’m so sorry, how zhoughtless of us.”

“You disgust me,” Soldier sneered.

“Ze feeling is more zen mutual,” Medic said. “Don’t you have somezing you should be doing? Like yelling to yourself viz ze door closed?”

The evil eye that Soldier was giving Medic right now was so intense, that Pyro half expected the doctor to turn to stone. Medic seemed more amused by this than anything, regarding Soldier with a smirk. They stood that way, staring each other down, assessing the others weaknesses. All Soldier could think of was beating Medic’s smug face in with his Shovel, over and over again, until it resembled raw hamburger meat. He could feel the blood rushing to his face and he could see Medic’s lips curl back to reveal his teeth, looking like a shark that smelled blood in the water. It made him sick to his stomach.

Soldier turned on his heel and stomped off angrily. He wasn’t hungry any more. His mind was buzzing with rage and humiliation and it felt like a nest of angry hornets. As he marched down the hallway towards his room, he stopped to notice Heavy carrying a trunk from out of his room. Soldier stopped in his tracks, and Heavy noticed him, looking up momentarily before turning his head in seeming indifference, opening the door to the Infirmary with a push of his shoulder and trudging inside.

This had gone too far. Soldier felt powerless, like a neutered dog muzzled and caged, without any way of biting back at the injustice of it all. He made his way into the War Room, his sanctuary, the only place of light in a cave full of madness, stupidity, and sin. There, he saw Shovel and Colonel Taters, waiting for him, ready to lend him an ear. Though, he couldn’t say that he liked the Colonel’s attitude. That would have to be dealt with later.


“Ha! Check!”

Medic smiled, looking up from the chessboard and smiling. “You have gotten bettah at zis, meine Liebe.”

“Heh, tank you, Doktor,” Heavy chuckled.

“Don’t get too cocky, mein Heavy,” Medic said. He moved his knight and took another one of Heavy’s pawns. “See?”

“You are too good at this game,” Heavy sighed.

“I have been playing much longah zen you have,” said Medic. “You vill get bettah.”

Heavy sighed. “Is hard.”

“It’s supposed to be. If it vere easy, it vould not be much of a challenge, now vould it?” Medic reached his hand over onto Heavy’s and gave it a reassuring pat. “You’re doing fine.”

“‘Evenin’, boyos!” Demoman said, walking into the rec room. “’Ow are th’ two o’ ye doan’, eh?”

“Demoman!” Heavy looked up from his game, face lighting up like a light bulb. “Is good to see you! Doktor and I vere just playing chess!”

“Oh, aye?” Demoman said, looking over the board. “I kin play a decent game. Beat Spy by a baw hair th’ one time I played ‘im. Bastard was pretty riled ‘bout that.”

“Really?” Medic asked, raising an eyebrow. “Perhaps ve should play sometime zen.”

“Ah, s’not really my type a’ game. I weren’t even really tryin’. Just pissin’ aboot,” Demoman said with a shrug, going around the couch and kneeling onto the seat, crossing his arms over the back. “I’m bored out a’ me skull, though. Kin I watch?”

“I don’t see vhy not,” Medic said, and turned back to the game. “Your move, Heavy.”

“Oh, sorry,” Heavy said, turning back to the board, staring intently as he pondered his next move. He put a lot of thought into each move, often making a false grab for a piece before retracting his hand and shaking his head.

“Christ, Heavy, ye move slower ‘n a pissed turtle,” Demoman observed. “Make a move already!”

“Don’t rush him, you vill only cause him stress,” Medic said.

“Ye know, I never fig’gered ye fer th’ patient type ‘fore I saw ye wi’ Heavy ‘ere,” Demoman said.

Medic tried not to smile too hard. “I suppose I have learned to make an exception.” As he said this, Heavy finally picked up a rook and moved it, only for Medic to capture it without even putting much through into it. “You ah not here to just vatch us play ah you?”

“I jes’ wanted tae make sure you were farein’ okay,” Demoman admitted. “Ye know, af’er yesterday.”

“We’re fine,” Medic said. “Zank you for your concern.”

“And tank you for kind words, Demoman,” Heavy added. “You are good man.”

“I woul’nt go tha’ far,” Demoman said with a chuckle. “Like I said, we’re all freaks out ‘ere. Not a one a’ us is totally normal, ye know? We’d ‘ave tae be a wee bit off tae take this job in th’ first place.”

“I resent being called a freak,” Medic said. “I’m not some sort of circus sideshow attraction, zank you very much.”

“I’m usin’ a very broad definition a’ ‘freak,’ ‘ere,” Demoman said. “An’ no, yer not some bearded lady or a mumblin’ midget or ‘alf a set a’ Siamese twins, but tha’s beside th’ point. Yer diff’rent. I know how tha’ is, since I been livin’ me whole life bein’ different. Almost me whole life I grew up not seein’ anybody outside a’ me own parents th’ looked like me, an’ I already tol’ you tha’ story.”

“Vhat story is that?” Heavy asked.

“Demoman accidentally killed his own parents as a child trying to blow up ze Loch Ness Monster,” Medic explained.

“Oh.” Heavy glanced down briefly at his chessboard. “Vhat is Loch Ness Monster?”

“It’s like Sniper’s drop bears,” Medic said. “It’s ein made up creature zat’s supposed to scare tourists.”

“IT’S NOT BLOODY MADE UP, YE BASTARD!” Demoman exploded. “Nessie’s /real/, an’ she’s a great, giant sea monster left o’er from th’ prehistoric ages an’ livin’ in th’ Loch Ness, waitin’, ready tae eat any daft choob who goes out alone a’ night an’ wanders too close tae th’ water’s edge!”

“How big is monster?” Heavy asked.

“Fah too big to actually live in ze tiny body of vater zat it’s supposed to live in,” Medic said dismissively. “Can ve not get into zis nonsense?”

“Fine,” Demoman grumbled. “Don’ b’lieve meh. But when yer proven wrong, I’ll be there tae say I told ye so.” His eye wandered down to the chess board. “Ye might wan’ tae move yer queen, Heavy. Medic’s closin’ in on ye.”

Heavy looked down at the board and his eyebrows arched in realization. Laughing, he moved his queen away from Medic’s encroaching rook, and chuckled.

“Don’t help him!” Medic groaned. “He’s nevah going to learn how to play if you’re looking ovah shoulder. Zat’s cheating.”

“Jes’ tryin’ tae lend a hand,” Demoman said with a shrug.

“I do not mind,” said Heavy. “You have been very helpful for me and Doktor.”

“Think nothin’ o’ it,” Demoman said. “Us freaks, we got t’ stick together. Soldier’ll come aroun’, if he knows what’s good fer ‘im. Donnae worry too much.”

“I’m sure zat ze two of us vill be able to handle ze Soldier on our own, zank you.” Medic made his next move without any real thought to it.

“Jes’ sayin’,” Demoman said. “Ye know, th’ two a’ ye are lucky. Ye’ got each other, an’ tha’s more ‘n I ever had. Bein’ poofs out here’s prolly better ‘n th’ rest a’ us. We donnae have any lasses around. Naught but th’ nood books Sniper got up wi’ ‘im.”

Medic found the side of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. “Danke, Herr Demoman,” he said. “It’s nice to know zat you’re trying to undahstand.”

“I’m tryin’,” Demoman said. “Th’ two a ye’ ever need anythin’, ye let me know. Jes’ doan come knockin’ on me door if I’m sufferin’ from… ah, wot’s th’ word ye use in Germany? Katzenjammer?”

“Vhere did you pick zat up?” Medic asked.

“Some bloody comic strip or somethin’,” Demoman said, getting up from the couch. “I’ll leave th’ two a ye be. Gonna see if there’s anybody else aboot. Good luck beatin’ that wily bastard, Heavy.”

“I vill be needing it,” Heavy said.

“Ye’ll beat ‘im yet,” Demoman said encouragingly. “He’d better let ye win at least once. Dead rude of ‘im not to.” He was halfway through the door before he peered back in. “Th’ two a’ ye take care now.” And he slipped back into the hallway.

As Heavy scooted his queen to the side, Medic found himself re-evaluating his first impressions of the Demoman. Out of all his teammates, the Demoman had perhaps been the most supportive of them. The only Negro on the team had been the most understanding and least prejudiced, and now saw a kinship with them. He felt a little sick, having previously looked down on the man, not only because of his constant inebriation and the violent moods swings he was prone too, but also his descent. He remembered being disgusted by the man’s dark, muddy skin, his scent, the structure of his face… and now he felt guilty about it. Perhaps, he thought, the Reich had been wrong about the inferior races. Perhaps they were not inferior at all. After all, he had already bedded and was now intimately involved with an enemy of the Axis, a Russian. Before he could ponder what else he could have been wrong about, he heard someone calling for him.


“Ja?” Medic lifted his head, and noticed Heavy was looking at him expectantly.

“Is your move, Doktor,” Heavy said.

“Ah, of course,” Medic said. “Must have drifted off for a moment.” He captured Heavy’s queen with his bishop, and watched as Heavy’s face fell.

“You are no going to let me vin, are you, Doktor?” Heavy asked dejectedly.

Medic chuckled. “Nein, mein Kushchelbär… you have to earn zat.”


The battlefield was really the only place Soldier felt at home, and the fire of war flowed through his veins and lit up every nerve in his system. They had lost their last bout against BLU, but that wasn’t going to happen again. This time, Soldier would be even more on the offensive than usual. Without telling anybody else on his team, he decided to go straight for the intelligence himself.

This caused some confusion on both sides, as Soldier would rocket jump ahead of Scout, charging into the line of BLU Engineer’s sentry more than once. Scout was not terribly pleased with this turn of events, hollering at Soldier to do his own damn job, only to have Soldier yell back orders to the young man that could barely be heard over wall-rattling explosions and constant gunfire. Purely by chance, Medic was trailing their Pyro, and had built up an Übercharge. Soldier was close by when Medic triggered it, and Pyro unleashed a torrent of flame upon the BLU Engineer and his sentry. Soldier took the opportunity to saddle the intel on his back and make a mad dash out.

However, he was quickly beginning to realize why they usually left this job to Scout and Spy. He was not a very fast man, and he was made slower by the briefcase on his back. On top of that, he only had so many rockets to fire, and the time it took to reload was precious. He ran to the sewers, where he would have a better chance of not being so easily spotted. He had to breathe through his mouth, treading carefully, trying to splash as little as possible. He swam across the moat between the two opposing fortresses, and could hear the usual sounds of war over his head. Nobody appeared to have seen him. Good. He managed to make it all the way to the other side. He was in his own base. Not much longer before he could win this thing.

He went up the stairs into the base, blinders on, focused on one thing and one thing only, and that was delivering the intel. By the time he smelled the cigarette smoke, it was too late. He whirled around to meet the BLU Spy, and before he could react, he heard several firing noises, and the Spy fell forward, his blade barely missing Soldier. Spy landed face down on the stairs, and his back was covered in needles, making him look like some absurd porcupine. Stepping up from behind the Spy was Medic, lowering his syringe gun looking very annoyed.

Soldier tried to hide his surprise. “What’re you doing down here?”

“Covering your back, Dummkopf,” Medic answered. “Somebody has to make sure zat you get ze Intelligence.”

Soldier grumbled, and Medic cast his Medigun onto the Soldier. The two of them made their way upstairs, and came across the BLU Scout, with their own intelligence. Soldier promptly blew up the young man with his rocket launcher, showering the both of them in a rain of blood and human tissue. Medic cackled at the sight.

Finally, they were closing in on the intel room. They made their way past Demoman, who was laying a few sticky bombs on the doorframe, and finally, to the intel room, where Engineer stood behind his level 3 sentry, and Soldier yanked the briefcase off of his back and slammed it down triumphantly, letting out a loud “HA!”

“VICTORY!” The Announcer exclaimed.

“HOO-HA!” Soldier shouted, arms akimbo and chest thrust out, looking like a proud rooster. “How about that?”

“Vell done,” Medic said. “Zhough, I zink perhaps next time you plan to do somezing as foolhardy as, say, changing ze agreed upon plan at ze last minute, you should at least let us know in advance.”

“They would have seen that coming,” Soldier said. “Besides, we /won/, so I don’t see why you’ve got your panties in a twist all over it.”

“Hey now,” Engineer said, coming out from behind his sentry. “You two were jes’ workin’ together to help us win, an’ yer fightin’ already?”

“I vas just commenting on Soldier’s razzer gung-ho attitude towards ze battle today, it’s not mein fault he took it /personally/.” Medic cast a glare in Soldier’s direction.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Soldier said. “Besides, I didn’t need /your/ help. I could have handled that Spy on my own.”

“I’m sure,” Medic said. “You’re velcome.” With that, he marched out, leaving Soldier and Engineer alone in the intel room.

Engineer sighed, and pulled out his PDA, destroying his sentry. Destroying his work always made him a little melancholy. He looked over at Soldier and frowned. Soldier, naturally, just got defensive.

“What?” he asked. “What’d I do now?”

“Ya didn’t even thank ‘im,” Engineer said glumly.

“Why should I?” Soldier asked. “He was just doing it so that he could make me feel stupid.”

“He was doin’ it because we’re a team an’ we gotta work together,” Engineer said simply.

“I am NOT thanking a Nazi or a queer for ANYTHING, thank you very much!” Soldier said, crossing his arms defiantly. “Nor am I going to take the advice of somebody who sympathizes with them.”

“Would you listen t’ yerself?” Engineer asked, picking up his toolbox. He walked closer to Soldier, and balanced his toolbox on his thigh as he lifted up his goggles. “He’s a member of our /team/, an’ it don’t matter what he was in the past or what he is now. A team needs t’ work together, an’ he realizes that. You don’t. An’ that’s prolly why you were never accepted into th’ army.”

“How do you know about that?” Soldier asked. His voice was low and raspy, and Engineer has to suppress a shudder.

“Ain’t none a’ yer business,” Engineer said. “An' I ain’t told nobody else. But Doc knows. An’ I know. An’ if yer fixin’ t’ keep that a secret, I’d recommend that you treat him with a lot more respect.”

“You’re blackmailing me then, eh?” Soldier asked.

“Not blackmailin’ you,” Engineer said. “I ain’t gonna tell either way. But I can’t say th’ same fer th’ Doc. So… jes’ try t’ be a little more understanding, all right? ‘Cause I don’t want to be a part a’ any unnecessary drama.”

Soldier grumbled, and averted his eyes. “So what do you want me to do then?”

“Thank him, an’ apologize,” Engineer said. “Trust me on this. It’ll make things go smoother for ev’rybody.” And with that, Engineer took his leave, lugging his gigantic toolbox in his arms, leaving Soldier alone.

The door to the intel room would be locking soon. Soldier tilted his helmet down further over his eyes, and trudged out, staring at the floor and dragging his feet behind him. Damn the Medic, and damn the Engineer, too. He hated being humiliated like this. Medic’s ties to the Nazi party were so obvious he might as well have had a giant neon sign over his head that said “NAZI” in bright red letters and giant, flashing arrow pointing to him. And for him to be gay on top of that? Disgusting.

He thought about this, as his teammates saw him and gave him congratulatory pats on the back, as he was in the showers, as he ate his dinner and finally when he retreated to the War Room. Shovel and the Colonel were there, waiting for him.

/Congratulations, Soldier!/ Shovel said. /You did well today./

“Tell that to Medic,” Soldier grumbled. “Can you believe that son of a bitch had the /nerve/ to tell me that my actions, the ones that /helped us win today/, were foolhardy?”

/Well, you didn’t tell anybody what you were doing,/ said Colonel Taters. /You were extremely lucky. Think about how badly the day could have gone./

“Luck had nothing to do with it!” Soldier barked. “The hell would you know, anyway? Shovel was there with me, but you sure as hell weren’t.”

/Word gets around,/ Taters said. /I got ears, you know./

/No you don’t,/ said Shovel. /If you had ears, you’d be a sack of corn. You just have eyes./

/I find that remark racist,/ huffed the sack of potatoes.

“Shut up, Colonel!” Soldier barked.

/No, you shut up!/ the Colonel shouted back. /Medic helped you today, didn’t he? He helped you even though you have been extremely unpleasant to him, and what thanks does he get? You insult him./

“You should have heard how he talked me!” Soldier said. “That elitist, snot-nosed, cock-sucking /maggot/ talked /down/ to me!”

/Can you blame him? He thinks you’re crazy./ Taters said. /And why shouldn’t he? I mean, look who you're talking to. I’m a sack of potatoes. Shovel’s a shovel./

“Entrenching tool,” Soldier corrected.

/Whatever,/ said the Colonel. /What I’m trying to say is, you’re a sick boy. You’ve had a lot of bad thing happen to you that screwed you up pretty bad. Maybe if you talked to him about it, he could help./

“I am /not/ talking to him about that,” Soldier grumbled. "Besides, I am convinced that he is not a real doctor at all, let alone a psychiatrist. And I hate psychiatrists."

/Oh come on, Soldier,/ the Colonel pleaded. /You can’t keep all those bad things that happened to you bottled up forever… what happened to your father, what your mother did to you… what your brother did to you…/

“DON’T YOU MENTION THAT BASTARD IN MY PRESENCE AGAIN!” Soldier roared, lifting up Colonel Taters to eye level and shaking him, spilling most of him onto the floor.

/There there, Soldier,/ Shovel cooed. /Don’t mind him. The Colonel cares about you, but he’s just… misguided, is all./

“Misguided, my foot,” Soldier growled. “He knows what he did.”

/I’m sorry, Soldier. I spoke out of turn,/ said Colonel Taters. /Just apologize to Medic, already. I don’t care if you don’t like him. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be making enemies in a place like this./

“He’s my enemy by default,” Soldier said.

/Just pretend to get along with him, then,/ Colonel Taters said. /You’ll thank me later./

/Yes,/ said Shovel. /Lull him into a false sense of security. Make him think he’s safe. Excellent idea, Colonel./

/That is not what I meant at all!/ said the Colonel, horrified.

“Colonel, I was wrong about you,” Soldier said, putting him down and picking up the potatoes on the floor, stuffing them back inside his sack quickly. “You’re a wily son of a bitch. I like that.”

/You’re not listening to me!/ Taters spat. /Damn you, Shovel!/

Shovel just giggled.

/Listen, Soldier, that’s not what I meant, now let’s just… hey!/ Soldier had walked out on him, and was already marching to the infirmary.

Soldier swung the infirmary door open, startling Medic, who was sitting at his desk, going over his files while listening to one of his records. Upon looking up at the intruder, the doctor’s mood instantly soured.

“Come to insult me some more?” he asked.

“Not this time,” Soldier said, suddenly feeling very, very awkward. He was not good at this. “I… uh… I wanted to let you know that your quick disposal of the enemy Spy earlier, and your decision to heal me as I had the intelligence… well… it did help us achieve our victory today.” He shifted uncomfortably as Medic looked over him, scrutinizing him.

“Ah you zanking me, Herr Soldier?” Medic asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not!” Soldier barked. “I still do not like you. At all. Not one itty, bitty bit. I hate you and everything you stand for. But you played a crucial role today and… uh… I wanted to say… good job.” He gave Medic a stiff salute. “Keep that up.” And he marched back out into the hallway.

It took Medic a moment to process what just happened, as the experience was almost completely alien. But then he found a pleasant smile creeping over his face, and he returned to his papers, humming along with “In the Hall of the Mountain King.”
>> No. 4332
after that horrifying detour that was "With Apologies to Harlan Ellison." And by "lovely" I mean absolutely horrifying.
>> No. 4339
WONDERFUL! I'm on the edge of my seat wondering what soldier will do next and about his past.

Also I hope there'll be more Heavy/Medic fluff in the future.
>> No. 4342
Colonel Taters got shot down once again. :[

And now I'm so curious about Soldier's past, but I'm really liking how you continue to just dish out occasional hints. Wonderful.

And I demand more chess games! I adore those scenes.
>> No. 4357
You mean Demo's not just some crazy drunk? I like this side of him~

Anyway, nice update, can't wait for moar.
>> No. 4361
I love how you wrote Demo so, so much. Also "In the Hall of the Mountain King"- LOL YES.
>> No. 4369
/I find that remark racist,/ huffed the sack of potatoes.
I lol'd so much. But poor Taters.
I love how you write all these characters~ Demo is likeable and Soldier deliciously insane.
>> No. 4375
Really, it's just Soldier's luck that his sanity decided to personify itself to him through a bag of tubers while paranoia snagged Shovel.
>> No. 4520
Out of all of this, Demo's still my favorite Demo out of any Demo-ness Oh, oh man. Just what I needed today, chess fluff, a little peace love and understanding and maliciously evil entrenching tools. I'll never forgive Solly, later, but for now, he;s just a sick man who needs help...

I am so wrapped around your fic finger.
>> No. 4526
Love all of this, and I can't help sort'a pitying Soldier, even though he's a prick and we know how this story turns out.
Also, was amused at Pyro's puzzlement over the question of bacon, 'cos I've been there too..pfft, religion.
>> No. 4595
Well, the Heavy/Medic arc has wrapped up, and I tried to write something a bit more cheerful, considering that more people read With Apologies to Harlan Ellision than part 15 of this.

Originally this was going to be a one-shot but I guess it's a two-parter. This took forever to write, I swear.


“I’m glad you could all make it, Gentlemen,” said Spy, looking over his fellow teammates. “I have just been contacted by RED earlier zis morning. It seems zat zey are interested in testing out a new product from zeir partner, Mann Co., and want us to use it in ze field.”

“A new product?” Engineer asked, leaning back in his chair. “Any idea what it is?”

“Apparently, it’s being kept top secret,” Spy said with a shrug. “We won’t know what it is until it arrives wizzin ze next two weeks.”

“Aw man, I wonder what it is,” Scout said, sounding excited. “That Mann Co. stuff is always wicked awesome. I don’t know why we don’t get more a’ their stuff.”

“Because their Jarate pills caused irreversible damage to my kidneys,” Sniper grumbled. "Though, I can't say I wasn't warned."

“Ve can alvays get you new kidneys,” Medic said.

“Personally, I’m not gonna trust any organs you get yer hands on, doc,” Sniper said. “’Specially if somebody ends up wakin’ up in a bathtub full a’ ice.”

“Vhat if ze vone vaking up in ze bazhtub full of ice vas on BLU Team?” Medic asked. “Speaking purely hypozhetically, of course.”

“I s’pose that’s all right, then,” Sniper said with a shrug.

“Look here, doc I’m gonna hafta advise against any organ thievery on your part,” Engineer said sternly. “I’m pretty sure that’s against regulations.”

“Just like you to try und ruin my fun,” Medic grumbled.

“Is that all you wished to discuss with us today, Spy?” Soldier asked. “Because, unlike the rest of these maggots, I actually have important business to attend to!”

“Yellin’ at your imaginary friends is ‘important business,’ now?” Sniper asked.

“Son, if you do not shut your goddamned vegemite hole right this instant, I will shut it for you /permanently/!” Soldier threatened.

“I’m afraid zat’s all I’ve been told,” Spy admitted. “But ze company wanted me to announce zis in front of all of you. Anybody have any questions?”

“Yeah, what is it?” Scout asked.

“I just told you, zat it is top secret, and we do no know,” Spy said, quickly beginning to lose his patience. “Anybody have any questions zat aren’t /stupid/?”

Nobody spoke up, only exchanging dubious looks with each other.

“Zat’s what I zhought,” said Spy. “You’re all dismissed.”

The nine men left the Briefing Room, many of them murmuring to each other theories about what this top secret weapon could possibly be. Spy certainly wasn’t talking, though they doubted even he would really know.

Two weeks later, when the next train came in, they would find out for sure.


When the supply train pulled up outside the base, all nine members of RED team were standing outside, eagerly awaiting this new weapon.

“Bet I’m gonna get a bettah gun,” Scout said cockily. “They pretty much know that without me, you sad sacks would be friggin’ lost.”

“Don’t flatter yerself,” Sniper grumbled. “Been lookin’ through th’ Mann Co. catalog. Think I’ll bet gettin’ that bow an’ arrow I been so keen on.”

“Psssh, that’s shit’s lame,” Scout said dismissively. “What, you gonna go fightin’ BLUs lookin’ like fuckin’ Robin Hood?”

Sniper half-smiled at the mental image. “Yeah, sure… robbin’ from th’ BLUs an’ givin’ t’ us.”

“How noble of you,” Spy scoffed. “Personally, I was more interested in zat Dead Ringer zey had listed… or ze Cloak and Dagger.”

“Didn’t they give you th’ camera beard by accident or somethin’?” Engineer asked.

“It’s not /as/ impractical as one might assume,” Spy justified.

As the train came to a stop, the doors to one of the cars opened. It was the first time any of them had recalled seeing passenger cars on the trains since their arrival at 2Fort, and their interest was as immediate as it was obvious. When the first passenger stepped outside, Sniper’s jaw dropped and Scout did a double take.

There, standing before the members of RED team, was a tall, burly, tanned man wearing a slouch hat lined with crocodile teeth, a disturbingly short pair of cutoff shorts, hiking boots, and nothing else. He had a manly, handsome brown mustache and chest hair in the shape of Australia, and the steely eyes of a hawk. He thrust out his chest, and looked at the men before him.

“G’day, mates!” He said.

“… It’s you,” Sniper stammered. “Jesus Christ. It’s really /you/…”

“Saxton Hale, at your service!” announced the incredibly handsome stranger. “Thought I’d come on over an’ deliver ah newest product pahsonally!” He elbowed the flabbergasted Sniper slyly. “Makes fer good PR, ya know.”

“How quaint,” Spy said, unimpressed. “Really, we have been dying of anticipation since we received ze memo.”

“I’ll bet ya ‘ave, mate!” Saxton said. “Guess we should cut t’ th’ chase then, eh?”

“Please,” said Spy.

“Awroight, boys, bring ‘im out!” Saxton waved his arm and two men dressed in uniform carried out a large wooden crate with holes drilled into the sides. They set it down, and one of them produced a crowbar, handing it to Saxton. Saxton took the instrument and pried open the crate, as the RED team waited with bated breath.

Finally, the front of the box was off, and out of the box wearing a came a dog wearing a red shirt with a yellow dog’s head emblem on the sleeve. The animal looked very much like a German shepherd, aside from the white patches on its fur, and it stepped out of the crate, tail wagging, looking up at the members of RED team and barked.

“Purrpeeh!” Pyro exclaimed, and crouched down spreading out his arms. The dog looked ready to bound into Pyro’s arms, but a quick whistle from Saxton prevented that.

“A dog,” Spy said. “You seriously are giving us a dog?”

“Not jes’ any dog, mate!” Saxton said. “This ‘ere’s th’ Gahd Dog!”

“‘Gahd Dog’?” Spy repeated.

“Guard Dog,” Sniper corrected.

“S’wot I said!” Saxton said. “Gahd Dog! Croickey, d’ya any a’ you speak proper English or wot?”

“I hate t’ go an’ look a gift horse in th’ mouth,” said Engineer, “but I can’t help but be a mite confused as to exactly why yer givin’ us a /dog/, Mr. Hale.”

“Glad ya asked, short-stuff!” Saxton said, slapping Engineer on the back so hard that the man nearly fell over. “Th’ Gahd Dog ‘ere is th’ latest in experimental warfare! Yer th’ Engineer, roight?”

“No, ‘e’s ze Heavy,” Spy said sarcastically.

“One more smaht remahk loike that, Froggy, an’ I’ll bop ya one so hahd y’ell be feelin’ it twelve yeahs ago!” Saxton threatened. He then immediately laughed, and gave Spy a playful punch on his shoulder, which caused Spy to wince.

He turned back to Engineer. “Anyway, ya got those sentries, roight?”

“Yeah,” said Engineer, not sure where the beefy Australian was going with this.

“Roight, well, ya know how if ya wanna have yer sentry in a new place, ya gotta destroy th’ old one, an’ move somewhere else?”

“That’s only ‘cause th’ rules say ya can only have one sentry up at a time,” Engineer explained. “I’d have more if I could.”

“Well, mate, imagine bein’ able t’ have yer one sentry… an’ another one on legs!” Saxton gestured to the Guard Dog, who barked for emphasis.

“Zat is ze silliest zing I have ever heard,” said Medic.

“An’ that’s not all!” Saxton said, ignoring Medic completely. “We’ve trained this beauty t’ retrieve ammo an’ medkits for ya on’ th’ field.”

“Wow,” Engineer said. “That sounds pretty useful.”

“But that’s not th’ best paht!” Saxton said. “Th’ best paht is this pooch is trained t’ rip th’ faces off a’ any BLUs that ah stupid enough t’ cross ‘is path… an’ he can do it with rocket powah!”

“That sounds pretty dangerous t’ be puttin’ on a dog,” Engineer said.

“It’s perfectly safe!” Saxton insisted. “‘E’ll respawn same as th’ rest a ya!”

“Does dog have name?” Heavy asked.

“Jes’ call ‘im ‘Gahd Dog,’” Saxton said. “Goes by his class name, same as th’ rest a ya.”

“Now, is zat ‘Guard Dog’ or ‘Gahd Dog,’ Monsieur Hale?” Spy asked.

“Wot’d I tell ya about gettin’ mouthy, buttercup?” Hale said threateningly.

Spy simply sneered, only to be elbowed harshly by the Sniper.

“Anyway, he’ll come with some equipment, a’ course, an’ we'll 'ave that all set up fer ya in a jiffy!” Saxton boasted. “I’ll grab all that meself. We’ll see how well ‘e works out fer ya.” And he slipped back into the car.

Pyro waddled up to Guard Dog, and held out a gloved hand. The dog took a cautious sniff, before licking Pyro’s hand, and Pyro make a happy little noise. He gleefully petted the dog, and the dog panted and wagged his tail rapidly.

“What in God’s name are you doing, Private?” Soldier barked at Pyro. “That’s not some family pet, that is a four-legged killing machine! I will not allow you to baby him like he’s one of those little rats that they pass as dogs that you see those snooty rich ladies carry around! Do you hear me? THAT IS FORBIDDEN.”

“Nuuur,” Pyro said, and hugged Guard Dog around his neck.

“ARE YOU DISOBEYING A DIRECT ORDER, MAGGOT?” Soldier shouted. “You know the penalty for insubordination!”

Guard Dog barked defiantly, and licked Pyro’s mask. Pyro giggled, and scratched behind the dog’s ear.


“I cannot believe we actually have to take care of some mangy mutt,” Spy muttered.

“What’s th’ matter, Spy?” Engineer asked. “Not much of a dog person?”

“Can’t say zat I am,” grumbled Spy.

“I knew it,” Engineer said. “I’m willin’ t’ bet that yer a cat person, aintcha?”

“If I ‘ad to ‘ave a pet, zat would probably be ze animal I would choose,” said Spy.

“ROIGHT!” Saxton grunted, hoisting a very large crate over his head, and placing it on the ground in front of Sniper. “Yer about all set up here, so if I can jes’ git one a yer signatures, I’ll be on me way.” He motioned for one of the workers behind him, and they brought him a clip-board and pen. He thrust both of them to Sniper, who took them as though he were a deer eating out of Saxton’s hand. He quickly scribbled a barely legible signature, and handed it back to the burly Bushman in front of him.

“Beauty!” Saxton said. “Thanks so much fer yer toime! I’ll be off, now! Got a lot a packages t’ deliver, an’ I don’t want t’ keep ‘em waitin’!”

“But wait-!” Sniper held out his hand in a feeble attempt to stop him. There was so much he wanted to ask him, so much he wanted to talk about.

“Sorry, chum,” Saxton said as the two workers retreated into the car, “Duty calls.” And with that, he hopped back on the train, but not without a final wave.

“NO!” Sniper cried out, only to have the car door close on him, and the train started to chug to life. It pulled away, leaving the members of RED Team with their newest recruit. Guard Dog watched the train leave and gave a sad little whine, and his tail wagging slowed to a stop. Sniper, too, looked distressed.

“Take me with you,” he whispered, too softly for anyone else to hear.


“Doggone it, I have no idea how in th’ Sam Hill yer supposed t’ carry this thing, boy.”

Guard Dog looked at Engineer with his head tilted. Not sure how to react, he wagged his tail hopefully.

“Are we seriously supposed ta call ‘im Guard Dog?” Scout asked, scratching the dog’s head. “I dunno, man. Seems like he needs a name, y’know? A real name.”

“I thought you an’ Pyro were supposed t’ be helpin’ me with this,” said Engineer, as he tightened a bolt on the Hanger, which was still in several pieces spread out on the floor. “‘Some Assembly Required,’ all right.”

“Yeah, well, you’re th’ guy who handles all the buildin’ stuff,” Scout said, continuing to scratch Guard Dog on his neck. “I mean, you wouldn’t even let me touch anything anyways.”

“Got a point there,” Engineer conceded.

Guard Dog lied down, and Scout continued to pet his side as the dog had a look of total bliss on his face. “Whaddya think we should name ‘im, Engie?”

“Mr. Hale said his name’s ‘Guard Dog,’” Engineer said simply. “Best not t’ confuse ‘im with any other names.”

“Aw, c’mon, ‘Guard Dog’ is a dumb name,” Scout said.

“He goes by his class name, like th’ rest of us,” said Engineer. “We’re not callin’ each other by our real names here, now are we?”

“Well, no,” Scout admitted. “But he’s different. He’s a dog.”

“I can tell,” Engineer said dryly.

There was a knock on the workshop door. “I’ll get it,” Scout said, getting up, and Guard Dog rolled over and got up, walking at Scout’s heels. Scout opened the door, and there stood Pyro, holding a paper back. Guard Dog hopped up onto Pyro excitedly, and, upon one quick sniff of the bag in Pyro’s clutches, snatched it into his jaws and ran off to a far corner of the room with it, crashing through the pieces of the Hanger as he went.

“Dagnabbit, Scout, could you please keep th’ dog away from my work?” Engineer shouted, gathering up the scattered parts.

“Don’t look at me, man, Pyro gave him the… whatever that is,” Scout said with a shrug.

“Churrkeern,” said Pyro, watching as Guard Dog happily ripped through the bag and chomped on the poultry and paper with little discrimination.

“Mr. Hale did supply us with food fer him, ya know,” said Engineer.

“Shurree,” said Pyro bashfully.

Engineer sighed. “Y’know, he made this sound like such a good idea when he was sellin’ it t’ us, an’ now that I’ve actually had time t’ think on it, this idea just seems downright silly.”

“You mean downright /awesome/,” said Scout. “Aw, man. Ya don’t think BLU is gonna get one a’ these to, do ya? ‘Cause I mean, shit, man. A dog with a gun on its back? /And/ rockets? Can’t think a’ anything cooler than that!”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Engineer said. He looked back up at Guard Dog, who had eaten all of the chicken in Pyro’s bag, as well as most of the bag itself. Guard Dog sensed Engineer was looking at him, and wagged his tail happily.

“I jes’ hope he’s housebroken,” Engineer sighed.

“Pssh, I’m sure Saxton fuckin’ Hale wouldn’t give us a dog that weren’t housebroken,” Scout said. “… Right?”

Engineer just stared at Scout with a dubious expression on his face. “Maybe,” he said after an awkward pause, “you should take Guard Dog outside fer a bit. Or at least jes’ outta my way. I’ll call ya back when I need ‘im fer fittin’ this thing.”

“Yeah, I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” Scout said. He whistled for Guard Dog, whose ears perked up. The dog bounded to him, and jumped over Engineer’s work again, knocking over one of the guns, causing the Engineer to express his exasperation quite audibly. Scout flinched, and Guard Dog ran out before him, barking excitedly. Pyro waddled after the dog, mumbling to the animal, and Scout sprinted out, catching up to Pyro rather quickly. Engineer could still hear them in the hallway, spreading their own personal brand of discord and chaos to the rest of RED base.

“Damn noisy kid,” Engineer muttered, surveying the damage that Guard Dog had caused him. It wasn’t that putting together the equipment needed for the dog to go into battle tomorrow was all that difficult… it wasn’t, really. It was simply time-consuming. He wondered if he was going to have to spend all night working on this, and looked back over the instructions, only to notice that they had been trampled upon and ripped with obvious claw marks. He sighed. “Well, that figures.”

It was going to be a long night.
>> No. 4596
Hahaha, oh Sniper. That part made me giggle, "take me with you', hehe.
ah, how could I forget to comment on part15?! I feel ashamed, forgive me. I love medic and heavy playing chess, and especially loved how you've written Demo.
Well done Cat!
>> No. 4597

Or I can simply ignore that fact because PUPPY.
>> No. 4598
“Take me with you,” he whispered, too softly for anyone else to hear. PfffffffHAHAHAHA! That line is going to keep me amused for a very long time. You're awesome, Cat.
>> No. 4599
Awww, Sniper and his role model, that's just too damn cute. And PUPPYY

>> No. 4601
I doubled over with laughter at Sniper. And YAY, a doggy!
>> No. 4605
Sniper and his big sparkly eyes, watching the train until it's a little speck on the horizon. He may never wash the hand that touched Saxton Hale's pen again.
>> No. 4609
SaxtonXSniper we wants it, we needs it cat please precioussss....
>> No. 4615
Hah, well, that was definitely something completely different in a good way.

Pyro made me go all :D, and poor Sniper... you're great at both depressing and hilarious stuff, it's amazing.
>> No. 4616
but there isn't any dog in-
oh this can't end well. ;_;
But still. PUPPY.
>> No. 4617
Sniper made me laugh like an idiot...poor guy.

But...the dog...oh no, this really can't end well D:
>> No. 4618
I lol'd IRL on three or four occasions in the last installment. GOOD WORK COMRADE BOUNTRY.
>> No. 4619
i was going to make a "meet the guard dog" fan fic and you BEAT ME TO IT AGAIN
im hating and loving you so much right now,
>> No. 4626
YES. Saxton Hale and fanboy-Sniper being canon in the RotD universe makes me SO HAPPY. If I knew where you lived I'd drive over and hug you.
>> No. 4627

Are Hups and I, perchance, an influence in this development?
>> No. 4629

>> No. 4846
Part 17 of Companion Tales is here, and included the second part of the Guard Dog arc! After this, I'll get to work on my fic for the Secret Santa exchange.


When the morning alarm went off at 6 AM, Guard Dog sprung up from the floor and started barking madly. Scout tried his best to keep the dog quiet, still feeling groggy from just getting up. The barking of the dog only made things worse, as he fuddled with the doorknob and twisted it open, letting the dog race out and bark even more.

“SOMEBODY SHOOT ZAT FUCKING DOG!” Spy shouted from his room.

“Fuck you, cockfag!” Scout shouted. “Get yer ass outta bed!”

Eventually, RED team had made it out of their beds and prepared for their first battle with their new secret weapon. Engineer had spent the night putting together the equipment needed for the dog, and as a result moved with such a sluggish, sleepy pace that he might as well have been a zombie. But the Hanger was fitted properly onto Guard Dog’s back, as well as the tiny rockets that were supposed to propel the dog forward for biting. Engineer could really see no good coming of that particular feature, but he was too tired to argue this point with anyone else on the team.

The team was gathered in the Resupply room a few minutes before battle, preparing themselves mentally and physically for the day ahead. Guard Dog was especially excited, and both he and Scout seemed to be feeding off of each other’s energy.

“Ya ready, boy?” Scout asked.

Guard Dog wagged his tail rapidly, and bent down, his rump sticking up in the air as he barked.

“Yeah, yer gonna tear those fuckers ta pieces, aren’cha, boy?” Scout asked, and Guard Dog got up and threw back his head, barking even more.

“You had bettah focus on your job, Herr Scout, und not distract ze dog,” Medic warned. “I really don’t feel like losing /again/.”

“I ain’t gonna get distracted, Doc,” Scout sneered. “Don’t get yer panties in a twist.”

“Doktor does not vear panties,” Heavy said, glaring at Scout.

“Yeah, you would know,” Scout said. “Y’know, ‘cause yer fuckin’ ‘im. ‘Cause yer /fags/.”

“Thanks, Scout, I think we get it,” Sniper said sarcastically. “Anythin’ else ya wanna enlighten th’ rest a’ us on? Maybe tell us that Soldier might not completely mentally sound?”

“I’M MORE SOUND THAN YOU’LL EVER BE, YOU KANGAROO-FUCKING HIPPIE!” Soldier retorted, waving his Shovel threateningly. “At least I don’t piss in a goddamned jar and throw it at people like some kind of mental defective!”

“It has its uses,” Sniper grumbled.


“All right, men!” Soldier shouted. “We’re about to go out there with our new secret weapon! I expect that each of us will be sticking to plan?”

“Wot plan, ye daft bastard?” Demoman asked. “I donnae recall you givin’ any sort a’ plan tae any o’ us.”

“I didn’t?” Soldier seemed genuinely confused. “I could have sworn I had.”

“Yellin’ at yer imaginary friends don’t count, mate,” Sniper said.

“GODDAMMIT, I WILL END YOU!” Soldier screamed.


“Howza ‘bout we do what we normally do, an’ let Guard Dog do his thing?” Scout suggested.

“Vell, I suppose ve’re stuck doing zat, aren’t ve?” Medic asked snidely. He looked over at Engineer, whose head was bowed to the ground as he slumped over his toolbox slightly. “Ah you going be all right, Herr Engineer?”

Engineer’s head snapped up, startled at the sound of his own name. “Huh-Whut? I wasn’t noddin’ off!”

“I should hope not,” Medic said coolly.


“LET’S GO MURDER MANY MEN!” shouted Heavy, causing the Guard Dog to bark excitedly.


The resupply door slid open, and nine men and one dog with a pair of guns on its back charged forward, shouting and barking as adrenaline pumped through their systems. Guard Dog outran most of the others, keeping alongside Scout, and at the first sight of the BLUs his guns started firing, unleashing a torrent of bullets into their enemy confused enemy Soldier. As the BLUs body fell to the ground, Guard Dog continued to move forward. Even with the added weight on his back, he was still quite fast. He bounded further into the base, and skidded to a stop after turning a corner.

There, in front of him and staring back, was another dog, farther away. This dog was wearing a shirt just like him, only it was a different color. It was in fact the same color that Guard Dog had been trained to attack. This caused some confusion. He was happy to see another dog, but it was the Bad Color. Any man wearing the Bad Color was supposed to get bitten. But did that count for other dogs?

He cautiously padded forward, his gaze not leaving the other dog. As he crept forward, the other dog whipped his head around and snarled. Guard Dog yelped, and both of their guns started to fire, ripping through both of the animals.

Suddenly, he was back in the Big Room again. He looked around at his new surroundings in confusion. Not a few moments ago, there had been pain, loud noises, flashes of light, and now he was back in the Big Room. No pain. He let out a startled yelp when Pyro suddenly materialized right next to him. Pyro turned to Guard Dog, and noticed the dog was visibly spooked, tail between his legs and whining.

“Irrssh urrkeh, burrr,” Pyro said. He knelt down before the dog, and held out a gloved hand. “Irrssh jusssht murr.”

Guard Dog stopped whining, and seemed to calm down a little. He walked up to Pyro, relaxing a bit, and let the fire starter pet him on the head. Just then, Soldier materialized in the room, and Guard Dog jolted again, and hid behind Pyro.


“YURRSSH SHURRR!” Pyro said with a salute. Guard Dog barked. The two of them raced back out to the battlements, and Guard Dog already seemed to have forgotten his previous fear. He charged forward again, excited as ever, undaunted by whatever lay ahead for him.

After all, he couldn’t be hurt anymore now.


“You know, Sniper,” said Soldier, as he paced back and forth in the War Room, “that Saxton Hale fellow you seem to get all starry-eyed over forgot to mention to us that he GAVE THE BLU TEAM A GUARD DOG TOO!” He was now up in Sniper’s face, staring at him accusingly with his wide, bugged-out eyeballs, flecks of spittle landing on Sniper’s aviator lenses.

“Th’ hell was I supposed t’ know ‘e was givin’ one t’ th’ other team?” Sniper asked, taking off his sunglasses and wiping them off on his uniform shirt. “An’ I wasn’t getting’ ‘starry-eyed,’ ya pissant, I just have a great respect fer th’ man an’ ‘is work.”

“That’s a really interestin’ way of sayin’ ya wanted ta slobber all over his dick, gaywad,” said Scout.

“Fuck you,” Sniper retorted.

“No thanks, cock-muncher,” Scout said. “‘Course, you probably wouldn’t even want me anyway, when you could be gettin’ a mustache ride from that overrated, wannabe Paul Bunyan…”

Scout found himself suddenly face-to-face with the Australian, the front of his shirt balled into Sniper’s fist, and he could see the utter, burning hatred in the older man’s eyes.

“Look ‘ere, ya lil’ piker,” Sniper spat. “Insult me all ya want. I don’t care. But if yer gonna sling mud on th’ name of me /bloody childhood hero/, I’ll cut off yer hide an’ wear it as a dinkum /coat/.” His voice was low, and he was growling like a large cat. He pulled Scout just a tiny bit closer, making the young man squirm in his grip. “We clear?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Scout said, shaking a little bit but trying not to let it show. Sniper let go of his shirt, and Scout smoothed it out a bit, before adding, “Faggot.”

Before he could get up and give the Scout a good thrashing, Sniper felt himself being yanked backwards by the Demoman, who had the assassin by arm. “Let it go, lad,” he said. “S’not worth it.”

Sniper grumbled at sat back down, but not before shooting Scout a rather nasty glare. Scout just looked back with a smirk, making Sniper wish all the more he could bash the little bastard’s face in.

“Are you two ladies done having your little book club over there, or can I finish?” Soldier asked. Nobody answered his question, and Soldier took their silence as a cue to continue. “As I was saying, Mr. Hale failed to inform us that the BLUs would have a Guard Dog. I am /not/ happy about this. In fact, I am about as mad as a wet hen in a room full of soggy towels!”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before,” Engineer said absentmindedly, letting out a yawn.

“DON’T INTERRUPT ME!” Soldier shouted. Guard Dog, who was in the corner being petted by Pyro, lifted his head from the ground and perked up his ears. Soldier turned his gaze to the dog, who was now cautiously wagging his tail. “On top of all that, our Guard Dog’s performance today absolutely /paled/ in comparison to that of the BLU’s. Now, /that/ dog right there was a vicious, mindless murder machine, and I cannot tell you how many times that bastard had a vice grip on my balls. And I do /not/ mean that in any figurative sense, either. Were it not for respawn, you would be looking at man who was no longer /truly/ a man.”

Every man in the room winced, reached down between their legs with sympathy pains. Even the Guard Dog, who had been neutered, let out a soft, sad little whine.

“Man, why does that dog hate your balls anyway?” Scout asked. “I never saw him go after anybody else’s nuggets like he went after yours.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Soldier said curtly. “What /does/ matter is that BLU’s victory probably would not have been possible were it not for their Guard Dog.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Engineer said, still sounding sleepy. “We got a new asset to our team, an’ we’re just not sure how t’ use ‘em yet.”

“So does BLU, and they seemed to know /exactly/ what they were doing!” Soldier said. “Explain that with your science!”

“They probably used their time t’ plan a strategy, ‘stead a’ sittin’ around insultin’ each other an’ not getting’ any work done,” said Engineer, leaning forward a bit. “I’m thinkin’ we could learn a thing or two from ‘em.”

“THEY ARE BLUS, AND WE HAVE /NOTHING/ TO LEARN FROM A BUNCH OF INHUMAN, VERMIN /SCUM/ LIKE THEM!” Soldier had lunged towards Engineer over the table, his face as close as he could possibly get to the Texan’s.

“They’re people too, ya know,” Engineer said. “We’re all jes’ doin’ our jobs here. Ya don’t gotta go an’ make it personal.”

“I don’t like your attitude, Tex,” Soldier snarled. “I’m /insulted/ that you would ever suggest that we emulate those godless /bastards/ in any way, shape or form!”

Engineer sighed. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder why I even bother talkin’ t’ you.”

“If you vere to ask me,” Medic said, finally breaking his silence, “I zink our Guard Dog’s lack of experience may be a factor in our defeat today, alzhough to say zat vas ze main factor vould be inaccurate. If I recall correctly, Herr Engineer vas falling asleep today on top of his dispenser.”

"Sorry," Engineer muttered.

Medic frowned, and looked over at the dog. “You know, I vas really expecting /him/ to be bettah trained.”

“Nobody asked you, sausage muncher!” Soldier barked. “You keep those dick-sucking lips sealed unless you are spoken to, maggot.”

Heavy immediately stood up from his chair, hovering protectively over Medic and giving a Soldier a look that suggested he was fully intent on staring him to death. Soldier stood before the massive Russian, totally undaunted, and sneered at him. Guard Dog lifted his head back up in interest, and sensing an impending conflict, let out a low growl.

“Heavy, please,” Medic said. “Don’t encourage ze man. If ve pay attention to him, ve ah only only going to make it vorse. Sit down before you do anyzing foolish.”

“But, Doktor-”

“No buts,” Medic said sternly. “Sit.”

The Soviet had no choice but to obey, and he sat back down in his chair with a grunt, causing Soldier to break out into a smug grin. At the same time, Guard dog pulled himself from his lying position, sitting upright, and wagging his tail eagerly as Pyro continued to pet him.

“Well, that leaves us with two things t’ work on, then,” Engineer said simply. “Come up with a new strategy an’ integrate th’ Guard Dog into it, as well as makin’ sure he’s properly trained for battle.”

“Zat will probably take a while,” Spy said. He had been watching the whole meeting silently until then, and most of the other members had forgotten he was there. “Zis isn’t a human being, it’s a dumb animal. And he is not going to learn how to function in battle properly very quickly.”

“He ain’t a dumb animal, fagola,” Scout countered. “He’s a dog, an’ they’re plenty smart. ‘Sides, he’s been trained. He knew what he was doin’.”

“He needs more discipline,” Medic said. “Ve should begin more intense training for him tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Engineer said with a nod. “Anybody else got anythin’ t’ add?”

No one said anything, all looking around expectantly, waiting for their cue to leave. Soldier muttered something under his breath, but it was barely decipherable.

“Good!” said Engineer, getting up from his chair. “Meeting adjourned, then.”

Everyone got up from their seats and filtered out, and Soldier watched them leave with a wary eye. Pyro and Guard Dog were the last ones to leave, and Guard Dog stopped at Soldier’s closet door to sniff it rather intently. “Knock that off!” Soldier hollered, and the dog jolted before running after Pyro.

Soldier quickly locked the door, and folder up his table and chairs before opening the closet door, only to see Colonel Taters spill out onto the ground. “Dammit, Colonel, pull yourself together, for Christ’s sake!”

/Sorry,/ said Taters. /That dog makes me nervous./

“You always were a spineless maggot, Taters,” Soldier scoffed, bending down to pick up the scattered potatoes off of the floor. “Scared of a dog? Typical.”

/He could have eaten me!/ protested the sack of potatoes as Soldier refilled him. /He could smell me. He knows I’m here./

“And who is he going to tell?” Soldier asked. “Dog can’t talk.”

/But a sack of potatoes and an entrenching tool can?/ asked Taters.

/I don’t know why you put up with his insubordination, Soldier,/ said Shovel, who was propped up against the wall at the head of Soldier’s bed. /He does nothing but question you and cause trouble./

/I’m trying to help,/ the Colonel insisted. /Really, I am./

“I don’t need your help,” said Soldier.

/Yes, you do!/ protested the Colonel. /But no, nobody listens to Taters. Why listen to a burlap sack filled with tubers when you can listen to something you can use to chop off somebody’s head?/

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Soldier said with a shrug.

/Gosh darn it, Soldier, I was being sarcastic!/ said Taters.

“I don’t appreciate sarcasm,” said Soldier, sneering at the Colonel.

/Stuff him back in the closet,/ Shovel said coolly. /Let him think about what he’s done./

“Good idea, Shovel,” Soldier said, and shoved the sack of potatoes back in the closet.

/No, wait!/ Colonel Taters pleaded, only to have the Soldier shove in the table over him, followed by all the folded chairs. Soldier slammed the door shut, and dusted his hands.

“Well,” he said. “That takes care of that.”

/Why do you keep him around, anyway?/ Shovel asked.

Soldier didn’t say anything at first, looking uncharacteristically pensive. “You know, something, Shovel?” He finally said. “I’m not really sure.


Dinnertime at RED Base was usually a noisy affair, with eight men sitting around the table, complaining and arguing about whatever crossed their minds. Pyro, naturally, was never present at dinner, retreating to his room with his plate as the others sat down to their meal. Guard Dog hovered around the table, hungry for the delicious-smelling food they were eating, and a little attention. He stuck close Scout, and would look up at him, whining pitifully and giving him the saddest, sweetest puppy dog eyes he could muster. Scout found it harder and harder not to give into Guard Dog’s quiet pleading, trying his best to ignore the dog.

“What I don’t understand, is how the hell that dog can tell the difference between us and the BLUS,” Soldier remarked, as though he had given this quite a bit of thought.

“How do ya mean?” asked Engineer.

“Well, aren’t dogs only supposed to see in black and white?” Soldier asked.

“No, actually,” said Engineer. “They /are/ colorblind, though. Dogs have red-green colorblindness.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Soldier asked.

“Ole’ buddy a’ mine does studies on animal behavior, he told me,” Engineer said. “Dogs only got two primary color cones in their eyes, fer blue an’ yellow. Humans have three, fer red, blue an’ green.”

“So, wot, then?” Sniper asked, looking up from his plate. “Are our shirts grey to ‘im, or wot?”

“No, they prolly look yellow t’ him,” said Engineer. “Or maybe they are gray. I really can’t say.”

Scout found himself caving in, and tried to inconspicuously drop a bit of ham to Guard Dog, making sure nobody else at the table was watching him as they talked. Guard Dog waited patiently for the meat to drop, before he leaned over and happily ate it up off the floor.

“Scout, ah you feeding ze dog?”

Scout sprung upright, looking up at Medic, who was staring at Scout with narrowed eyes and a disapproving frown.

“What? Naw, man, a’ course not,” Scout lied. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Medic continued to stare unblinkingly at the younger man.

“Scout, ya shouldn’t encourage that dog t’ beg,” Engineer said “It’s a bad habit.”

“Well, you try sayin’ ‘no’ ta that face, man!” Scout protested.

“Heavy, do you zink you could remove ze dog from ze mess hall?” Medic asked casually.

“But I am eating, Doktor,” Heavy said, looking at his plate sadly.

“Please?” Medic asked, giving Heavy a look which seemed to be just as pleading as Guard Dog’s. It only lasted a brief second, though, since as soon as Heavy got up, Medic’s face reverted to its normal, detached expression.

Heavy grabbed the dog by the collar, and Guard Dog attempted to persuade the Russian otherwise with softly arced brows and a pathetic little whine. Heavy hesitated for a moment, and could feel himself falling victim to the dog’s longing gaze.

“Now, bitte,” Medic said, without even looking up.

“Sorry,” Heavy mumbled, as he tried to lead the dog out of the mess hall, but Guard Dog planted himself in the spot, his neck craning in the direction Heavy was trying to lead him. Heavy grunted, and dragged the dog forward, sliding Guard Dog across the floor, his claws skidding along the surface. The Russian had enough of this, and finally scooped the dog into his massive arms, carrying Guard Dog, who by now had given up and submitted himself to being carried out like an oversized, furry baby.

Heavy placed the dog outside in the hallway. “Shoo,” he said. “Go avay.”

Guard Dog looked hurt, his tail wagging a little bit before coming to a standstill. He watched Heavy go back inside sadly, and slunk off to wander around the base.

He knew that not all of the men were at the table. The strangest of them all, the one that smelled like kerosene and ashes and rubber, was not with the other men. Kerosene Man was Guard Dog’s favorite, though, even though he could not see his face. He liked the boy who smelled like fresh sweat and cut grass, but Kerosene Man petted him the most, was the first one he saw when he got let out of the dark box… Guard Dog decided he would go find him.

His smell was everywhere, but Guard Dog followed it, looking for where it was strongest. Finally, he came to a door, and he could smell Kerosene Man inside. He nudged the door first with his nose, only to find it wouldn’t budge. He then scratched on the door and whined a bit, before sitting back and waiting for the door to open. Guard Dog could hear Kerosene Man shuffling around inside, and he barked. After a few more shuffling noises inside, the door creaked open just wide enough to let Guard Dog in. He wagged his tail and trotted inside, and the door closed behind him.

Guard Dog looked up to see Pyro hiding behind the door, and he jumped on Pyro happily, licking Pyro’s mask and smearing saliva all over the smoky lenses. Pyro petted Guard Dog, and the dog rebounded off of Pyro’s chest and back to the ground. Pyro walked over to his bed, where he had placed his plate, and took off his mask.

The dog tilted his head curiously. Kerosene man took off his dark face and revealed a new one, one that looked similar to the faces of the other men, but also looked like chewed meat. It didn’t smell like meat, though. Guard Dog wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“You’re lucky,” Pyro said, his voice coming out soft and timid. “You’re the only one here who will get to see my face.” He reached over to his plate and picked up the ham, tossing it to the dog. “You can have it. I don’t want it anyway.” Guard Dog caught it in his mouth, and chomped down on it happily.

Pyro watched the dog eat, and a smile formed on what was left on his lips. Guard Dog sniffed the floor in front of him, licking it for any spare bits that might have fallen from his mouth, and looking back up at Pyro. “It’s all gone,” Pyro said. “No more.”

Guard Dog’s ears tilted back and he gave a disappointed whimper. He lied down on the floor, placing his head between his paws, and watched Pyro finish his meal. When the fire starter finished, he placed the empty place aside, and got down on the floor with Guard Dog, rubbing the dog’s tummy and watching Guard Dog kick his hind leg in sheer bliss, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

“You know,” said Pyro. “I think we’re going to be good friends.”

And the dog could not agree more.
>> No. 4847
>He reached over to his plate and picked up the ham, tossing it to the dog. “You can have it. I don’t want it anyway.”


That's excellent attention to detail Cat; really stood out to me. Great update as well of course.
>> No. 4848
The huge amount of apostrophes made the dialogue a bit hard to read but the story is cute!
>> No. 4850
>moved with such a sluggish, sleepy pace that he might as well have been a zombie
oh god, the z-word!
great update Cat. C:
>> No. 4851
D'aww, I just love how Dog's attached himself to Pyro. Also, the men succumbing to the power of puppy face was very adorable. As for Soldier...I almost feel sorry for him, but it's still damn funny.
>> No. 4852
Oh, manipulative Medic. You make me laugh.
>> No. 4853
And now I want to write a fic with the Guard Dog D= He's adorable. Loved this, Cat, but there were quite a few mistakes that distracted from it a bit. Oh well, nice update(s)!
>> No. 4857
Pfft, oh Sniper. You and your mancrushes…

I love this story. Pyro and Guard Dog are criminally cute, Demoman is always awesome and you write the best insane Soldier ever. Keep it up.
>> No. 4861
>>chest hair in the shape of Australia
>>“Purrpeeh!” Pyro exclaimed, and crouched down spreading out his arms.
and of course,
>>“Take me with you,” he whispered, too softly for anyone else to hear.

BRB lol'ing/aww'ing forever
>> No. 4870
Have I told you lately that I love you?
YAY FOR UPDATE! Soldier's slowly bending under pressure here, not cracking; interesting to watch him waver from madman to just confused. What on Earth was keeping Engine up? Was it setting up the dog's equipment?

Always wonderful, Cat.
>> No. 4890
seconding this; i did a double take and suddenly got the significance of this line. this fic just gets better and better.
>> No. 4895
Aw. The last two updates were so full of win. Pyro and GD are way too cute and I imagine that Scout and he could play fetch with Scout's baseball. I still can't help feeling bad for Soldier. Shovel is such a manipulative bitch.

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