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No. 4593
Even in the morning light, the blue room felt cold, dank and dark. His situation helped the room look more unappealing that it already looked at face value. The night was long and cold. It's the bitter irony of the desert to be struck with devastating heat, then chilling cold in the later evening. He had not slept for very long as the stress of the oncoming horror the next day had kept him up for most of the night. He had finally drifted off, regardless of his arms stuck in such an awkward position, dangling above his head. Sometime in the early morning, as he had guessed it to be, he awoke to the harsh light of the morning sun. Though he was very punctual and always got up as early as his more disciplined teammates, he rather hated mornings. The light was fresh and raw, in contrast to the afternoon and evening light which felt aged and smoked like a good cheese. The light wasn't hitting him directly as the only window was on the wall behind him. The beam he was chained to wouldn't have made a difference; he didn't want to see the sun. He wasn't very welcoming of the oncoming morning, especially not today.
It must have been 8 in the morning by the time Medic had started to feel a slight hunger. Nothing at the moment but it reminded him of what he was going to have to deal with. They were obviously going to starve him for as long as they see fit. Force him into a corner and break his spirit.
Spirit was one thing that Medic had in abundance. He had a certain stubbornness about him that portrayed him as the man he was. He was not the type to be threatened and nor pushed around. His own pride was what was going to make the ordeal all the more difficult.
The doorknob rattled, then opened. It was the Spy. Medic decided not to dignify his entrance with even a glance and continued to stare at the wall in front of him.
“Stoic as always.” He stepped in with a small case in hand. He closed the door, locked it and walked over to the crate that was opposite the wall of Medic. He set it down, and sat besides it.
“I have zhought it over during zhe night.” Medic spoke up. Spy raised an eyebrow as he crossed his legs.
“Oh? Have you now?” Spy pulled out his cigarette case.
“Ja, I have decided to join zhe BLU team.” He didn't look Spy in the face.
“Oh, I'd love for zhat to be true. I really would,” he scoffed as he lit the cigarette. “But how could we trust you? I mean, if you changed sides just like ZHAT...”
Spy opened the box he had carried in and pulled out a small black hand held device. Spy flipped it on, the two prongs sticking up top from it clicked with a spark of electricity flickered between them. Medic's body tensed up.
“What's to keep you from defecting to another team just as quickly? Non, I don't believe you. I have seen you doctor, you're not a man so easily threatened.” Spy walked to Medic's side and knelt down.
“It was a good try though.” With that, he jammed the stun gun into the doctor's side. His body convulsed as he let out a scream of pain. Spy had set it on the highest setting as he jammed it into his ribcage with even more pressure. After roughly 15 seconds of continuous 'shock therapy' he pulled the device from his side and stood up. Spy smirked as he walked back to the box and sat down. Medic hung his head and gasped for air, his muscles already exhausted from the extreme spasms.
“You're in no position to be trusted right now, doctor. At least, not with joining our team.” he leaned back and exhaled a puff of smoke, “Zhere some questions I would like to ask, of course.”
Medic lifted his head to look up at Spy. He had crossed his legs again, in a gesture of snark.
“As you know, there have been... problems with zhe supply trains.”
Medic had caught his breath, “Vhat KIND of problems?"
“I do believe I am the one asking zhe questions here, doctor.” He picked up the stun gun and waved it in the air, “I suggest you comply, it makes things more pleasant.”
The doctor glowered at him but kept his mouth shut. He may have been proud and stubborn but he wasn't stupid. Nothing would come of being shocked over and over. Sure, Spy would get bored after a while but that bastard would certainly last longer than he ever could. Chances are, Spy would find new, more creative ways to loosen his tongue. Problem was though, he wasn't aware of any information that would be deemed useful to the BLUs. The one to ask about that was the RED Spy, as he had a habit of dipping into the intel, out of curiosity.
“What I wanted to know, is the state of your supply trains.” Spy motioned for Medic to speak. Medic paused for a moment.
“Ve have had no trouble viz zhe trains.” It wouldn't do any harm to tell them what would be expected as normal behavior. Spy, however, was giving the doctor some information about their team quiet easily. Spy knew this, but he wasn't going to return him to his team any time soon, if ever.
“Really now... Are you sure?”
“Ja...” Medic hesitated to speak, but decided to chance crossing the line, “Is zhere... a problem viz your trains?”
Spy scowled and promptly got up from his box. He again plunged the stun gun into Medic's torso, this time in his chest. The doctor writhed and screamed but only for a slightly shorter amount of time than before. Spy stood up and lifted his cigarette from his lips.
“You never learn...” he placed a foot on the doctor's chest. “Zhat's not a good habit to get into, doctor.”
He was right. He needed to stay as quiet as possible. Aside from the torture, he had to make sure he didn't surrender any information that could be used against his team. He wouldn't voluntarily sell out his team, but sometimes things slip. Spy pressed harder on his chest, as if he was attempting to stop his breathing. Medic could sense the sadism in him, Spy was enjoying this. Even with the scowl on his face, he could tell that he was having fun.
“Now, doctor... I was curious. Have zhere been any orders from your HQ? Anything specific? Direct orders?”
“N-not zat I know of.” He inhaled as much as he could to counteract the pressure of Spy's shoe on his chest.
“Oh? Well, what do you know?” He pulled out the stun gun again.
Medic wanted to ask, “what do you WANT to know” to narrow down his questions in hopes he wouldn't accidentally reveal anything. He didn't have too much to reveal, which was the other problem. With how much Spy was enjoying his torture, any answer that wasn't 100 percent satisfactory would likely end up in another shock.
“Ah... Ve have been... getting zhe normal orders to retrieve your intel und bring it to zhe drop off location.”
“At zhe train station at designated hours, yes we know all zhat.”
“Zhen... vha-” Medic stopped himself. Spy smirked.
“Good boy.” He took his foot off of his chest, patted him on the cheek and walked back to the box.
Condescending ingrate. Medic stared at his feet and scowled, trying to put his mind at ease with imagery of his captor strapped to a table, limbs being slowly sawed through with a rusty saw. The doctor admitted to being a bit sadistic, but would only go so far if he was provoked. Like Heavy, he was more of a sleeping bear. Spy was poking said bear, but he was safe on the other side of the bars of its cage.
“Well, it seems I have some research to do.” He flicked his spent cigarette butt on the ground. He packed up his things, turned to walk out and stopped and turned, “Oh, but doctor. Just a warning. If I ever find out zhat you are LYING about anything, the consequences will be dire. And trust me, you haven't seen anything yet.”
Medic waited for Spy to leave the room to take a deep breath and sigh an exasperated sigh. He won't be broken, there's no way he'd give them the pleasure.
***
The day dragged on as Medic's hunger had steadily grown stronger. He simply had to wait until his stomach would finally give up the fight. His body couldn't be as stubborn as his attitude, could it? Regardless, the day was long from over. From the light he had guessed it to be roughly some time in the early afternoon.
Every now and then he'd stand up and move about as much as he could, even with his arms bound. He knew that if he had allowed his muscles to grow soft from atrophy, he'd be in no position to escape, much less help his team. It didn't require much to keep his body from succumbing to atrophy but it gave him something to do. Most of the time they left him in there to 'soften up'. It was surprisingly dull. He had enough lee-way from the handcuffs to peer a bit out of the tiny window, though there was not much to see. He at least knew he was on the side of the base that wasn't facing his own. Wonderful, a 1/3rd chance he'd end up BEHIND the BLU base. Not that the window was a viable exit, but exploring all possibilities couldn't hurt.
Medic had grown bored of moving about as his wrists had begun to chafe. He had sunk back into place, leaving his hands to dangle above him.
The door rattled once more and swung open, Medic's head jolted up as in response to another shock. He looked up to find the soldier walking towards him with a small bowl. The man glared down at him, silent. Medic didn't want to admit it but he had the most intimidating stare of any man he had run across. A silent madness swam around in the man's eyes. He didn't break eye contact as he stared, afraid that he'd strike if he looked away or let his guard down. He knelt down slightly and dropped the bowl at his feet. The contents, or what little of it, thankfully didn't spill. There wasn't much to spill.
Medic broke eye contact to look at what the Soldier had dropped in front of him. It was a small portion of beans with half of a bread roll sitting in it. The Soldier reached into his pocket and pulled out a key and unbuckled the bike lock. Medic's arms fell into his lap.
“Don't bother making a break for it, Sauerkraut,” the BLU Soldier finally spoke up. “The firebug is right outside, ready to toast ya if ya try anything.”
Medic picked up the bowl of seemingly overcooked beans. They wouldn't feed their prisoner their rations, especially if their HQ has having issues sending in new troops. No, this was to barely keep him alive. He pulled the bowl up and inspected the beans. They had a strong smell, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Medic grabbed the spoon and took a bite.
Instantly his mouth erupted into flame. Those bastards doused the food with Tabasco sauce, another tactic often used on prisoners to demoralize them. His eyes watered as he continued to eat the Tabasco saturated beans while leaving the bread roll for last to ease his mouth. He wasn't going to let these curs get the best of him. He finished the portion as fast as he could and stuffed the bread roll in his mouth. It was mostly stale, predictable. He still tore through it the best he could to drown out the burning sensation. They certainly weren't going to give him any water. No, all the water he'd get would be from the tainted beans.
The Soldier laughed as he watched Medic's reaction to the food. He could tell that this BLU in particular disliked him the most. From the slurs he had flung earlier, he could tell that he wasn't too happy to in the presence of one who was once associated with the axis powers. His accent made it quite obvious to the Soldier.
“Zhere, I'm done. You can go now.” He tossed the bowl over to the Soldier's feet. The BLU stood up and pulled the bike lock out of one of the holes in the girder and placed even higher on the beam. He then grabbed the prisoner's handcuffs and yanked them up, lifting Medic to his knees. He secured him in place and sat back down. Medic was no longer sitting but barely standing on his knees. The cuffs would have certainly dug into his skin if it weren't for his gloves. He sighed and sunk into his shoulders as he attempted to get accustomed to his new position.
“You were getting too comfortable there.” He smirked and sat back down. Wasn't it time for him to leave? Or was there more torture to undergo?
“I appreciate your concern.” They couldn't take his dry sense of humor. Sarcasm was all he had left for now.
“This is too good for you! You know that?”
“Oh? Und vhat vould you have in mind?” He could tell that Soldier wasn't in charge. If he was, he'd most likely be dead right now. It was safe enough to ask him questions without any repercussions.
“HEAD ON A SKEWER, THAT'S WHAT,” the man barked. He was just like the RED Soldier. This one seemed a tad less stable, though. Stable being a relative term, that is.
“Zhey did not like your idea?”
“That damn frenchy got everyone's backing.” Good lord he opens up quick.
“Zhat is ein shame, you look like a-” The soldier cut him off.
“DON'T YOU GO TELLING ME WHAT I AM. I KNOW WHAT I AM.” He leaped off the box and screamed in the doctor's face. Medic desperately wished he could have wiped the flecks of spit that had landed on his face.
“Eh... Zhen, vhat are you? If you don't mind my asking...” He decided to cater to Soldier to keep him from splitting his head open with his shovel.
“/AN AMERICAN!/” He stood straight up and folded his arms, “Something someone like you wouldn't understand.”
“Oh, now I vouldn't say zhat...” He was blindly patriotic and a loose cannon, that much was obvious. He might as well mess with his head. The patriot sat down on the box and lifted the front tip of his helmet with his thumb and glared at Medic.
“You had better spill the beans there, charlie.” Not the best choice of phrase.
“I'm afraid I have said too much.” He looked to the side.
“/YOU LISTEN HERE, YOU WILL TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW! THAT IS AN ORDER!/” He wasn't a very creative interrogator, but this was a good thing. Medic looked from side to side, pretending to make sure no one was listening even though they were obviously alone, all except for the Pyro outside the door but it made no difference. He thought of a quick lie that he knew would gnaw at the Soldier's paranoia.
“...My country has sent undercover agents to dispense a mind control serum into zhe general populous through zhe drinking vater.” It was a long shot.
“/I KNEW IT!/” Good lord. “DAMN SCHMEISSERS ARE OUT TO GET ME!”
Medic couldn't believe how much worse the BLU Soldier was. He was definitely no psychiatrist but this onion's layers were pretty easy to peel back. The inside of the onion, however, was something he did not want to see. Might as well make this quick.
“My superiors are going to find out, I zhink I have said too much.”
“Your SUPERIORS are going to have to answer to /ME!/”
“I vould like to see you try.” An evil grin for good measure, “Your team is slowly feeling zhe effects of zhe serum. Soon, I vill be out of here.”
“YOU'RE staying put there, Adolf.” Soldier grabbed the bowl and marched towards the door. He paused, then looked back, “Don't think you can defect over to our side, I got my eye on you. Like hell I'd ever let a god damn NAZI join our ranks! Our last doctor was a good man, he was a true American!” With that, he slammed the door and marched down the hall.
“... Dummkopf.” Medic was shocked and amused. He wouldn't allow the Nazi comments to get to him, of course. What did get to him was the Soldier's naivety. The BLU's last Medic was indeed German, Austrian or something close. He had no accent from his homeland but rather a western accent much like the Soldier's.
BLU's Soldier would most likely cause trouble for his team or stay away from them and keep to his own paranoid self. Either way, it was fun. His mouth was still on fire and his throat still hurt from the sharp bread but his spirit was still intact and there was nothing they could do to take from him.
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