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No. 301
Every repost is a repost repost. By Kage.


Well, I wrote this last night.. It recieved pretty good reviews on Y! Gallery. I hope you all like it. And please, if you have critique - tell me! ^_^ It's been a while since I last wrote.


I was recruited for my strength, my size, my durabilty. I accepted because I needed money and an escape. When I was given to the RED team, I had not known that I would become connected to any of the team very personally - I had thought that I would not let anyone to come close, just as it had been for my entire life.

They saw me as slow, unintelligent, possibly even mentally retarded. I do not mind. To be honest, it is what I always am seen as. It is annoying at times, but I am used to it. It is also a bit of a ... what do you call it? An advantage. No one suspects the slow one.

Medic had figured it out quickly. The German doctor, one day after fighting, pulls me aside.

"Herr Heavy. May I ..ask you a question?" It is weird, we both have such heavy accents, yet it is hard to understand each other.

"Da." I give a grin, leaning back. "But be quick - I want to eat."

"You are not stupid," he said simply. It was not a question, and I just give a bigger smile.

"Nyet. At least, I do not think so." I let out a bellow of a laugh.

Medic simply pats my shoulder. "You are smart. Come, we should go eat. We need our nutrition." He turned and walked away, leaving me astounded. To say I grew to admire, respect... love this man was an understatement.

He did not talk about my intelligence after that. I became close to him; moved into his medic bay, ignoring the team's strange looks. We were close, and I would do anything for him. Life was good, but it did not last.

We were fighting. Another battle, another day. The BLU team was pressing hard that day, yet.. strangely, no one went for us. We both knew that was not good. "Doktar, come with me," I said. We moved together to a more sheltered area, and I kept my mass between myself and my German doctor, the wall at our back. I hadn't even known that ...

That damn spy. Even now...

By the time I had killed the Spy with a snap of his neck, the knife had done it's damage. The Medic - my doctor, my lover.. He was coughing up blood, a hole gaping into his lung. I did not know what to do. I took my shirt to that hole, covering it up and lifting the doctor up. Everyone had called me slow, and I had never thought I was. But I could not think any faster, run any faster, help him any faster and it infuriated me. I just needed to get him .. get him to the medic bay.

My comrades - I am glad we are such a good team. They covered for me. Sniper shots rang out, but never at me. Soon, we were in that bay, and I was laying him on the steel table. Once there, I realized I didn't know what to do.

"Doktah! Do not die! Не умирать, Doktah..." But it was too late. His blood was all over me, but I paid no heed as I clutched him. He was mottled, and had no breath. I had killed enough people to know what happened when you died.

I have not cried since I was a boy. I remember that day - I had lost my mother, and had sobbed openly at the announcement. My father had slapped me, and told me off.

"Do not cry!" he had said in our Russian tongue. "If I catch you crying ever again, I will pull out your eyes." At my mother's funeral, I had not cried; I merely stared into her casket.

Now, I wept. The tears flowed from me so freely as I clutched that frail body to my chest. The battle for the day had ended with the bell, and slowly, my comrades appeared at the door. They did not come in, merely looked on for a few minutes before leaving.

Engineer brought food for me later that night, placing the plate on Medic's desk. He said nothing, did not glance at me as I sat on the cot, Medic's frail body still in my arms. Then, he was gone. I stayed like that for two long days, with new food being placed on that desk every meal time. That was how I watched the time.

Finally, that Texan.. He came in and walked straight over to me, looking sad. "He's gone, boy. Let us just bury him so he can go in peace." I slowly nodded. It made sense.

We buried him. A grave marked by a cross, inscribed with his title and a few small words.

Medic - He has healed us in so many ways. That was all we knew. What he was like, his title. Not his real name, not city where he was from, not even his birthday. No one was allowed to tell each other such things.. no one remembered them, after a time. It didn't matter when fighting for your life.

It has been a week. I wrote this to attempt to try and decide what I needed to do. I know what I need to do. There is nothing back in my motherland. Nothing for me here.

A noose would not hold my weight. Poison would have no effect. And I could not shoot myself - I had tried, and could only sob, cold barrel against my head, or in my jaw.

Now, I know what I should do. And I will join my medic.


Heavy strode out into the daylight. His teammates streamed out, but he kept walking, his eyes searching for two figures; one like his own, one like his lost beloved. He walked up to them, minigun up, eyes blazing. They thought he would shoot - the BLU Heavy started to shoot, expecting retaliation.

He never did. He simply took them, his body jerking until finally he fell, millions of holes weeping blood. His gun clattered to the side. The confused team slowly approached. He was dead, and, upon inspection, there was no ammo in the minigun. They left him, knowing what had happened after that - it was suicide, but suicide by his terms.

He was buried next to Medic, with a cross on his grave. "Heavy - Died for his team."

Не умирать = do not die
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>> No. 3036
aww that's soo touching and cute and aww
>> No. 3038
I almost shed a tear over this. I am impressed.
>> No. 3042
Well, I fucking cried.

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