Chapter Text
Mortician. That was your class. You were meant to be something of a convoy to the Medic; your portfolio states that your job is a field medic. You were meant to be on the battlefield as a support class to heal your teammates. Despite what the charts may articulate, you don't care. You didn't take the role of a Mortician upon yourself to be a light-hearted, caring mercenary that would pull themselves right out of a fight for the sake of saving the life of someone else. No, far from it. Mutilator would be a far more fitting title for someone of your background.
You didn't spend years in med-school to heal and help the people of the world. You weren't sitting in those dreadful classrooms listening to the middle-aged, underpaid men and women go on about the human body systems because you were hoping it could give you enough knowledge to "save some lives." You were there for one reason: your sick, twisted mind. God, just seeing an autopsy for the purpose of study could turn you into a hot mess. Ever since you had stumbled upon snuff films back in your high school years something inside you had changed. It felt like gears that had rusted over and sat untouched for years were finally given the relief of movement once again. You didn't care whether it was for the better or for the worse. You felt good. It was a sort of sex appeal that no one with even the smallest ounce of self-respect would dare to speak of. Then again, maybe it's best left unheard of. Torture was an art that simply took the mind of a God to comprehend.
Maybe that was the reasoning behind Mann Co. giving you the role you were bound to like hands chained to the walls of a castle dungeon. They knew your power - they knew your strength. They wanted to keep you at bay. It was just too easy to hand you a Medi Gun and a few first-aid kits and say, "Keep them alive, soldier!" knowing damn well that was beyond you. You needed your hands deep inside a corpse; tools deep inside a body waiting to succumb to the sweet relief of death. Except that wasn't the truth and you knew it. Unfortunately, as much as you wanted to believe that everyone was against you, that wasn't the case.
When Miss Pauling had come to your home and told you what you were signing up for you knew that it wouldn't be enough. She heard every lavishing complaint you could vocalize. Eventually, she caved. She allowed you the most infinitesimal amount of leverage she was authorized without stepping beyond her order.
"Miss [surname], the team is in desperate need of a secondary field medic. Our offensive mercenaries do enough damage as it is! With your knowledge within health and how long the human body can persevere, you would make an incredible fit for support." Pauling sounded almost beseeching.
"Ma'am, I really do appreciate the offer, but that's not the intention within my work..." you took a complicated breath, your heart and mind on two different sides of the scales of justice. "What you're saying is correct, yes. And I would be capable of providing that! But I couldn't just stay behind and heal man after man as the rest of them fight without me."
"Well, you wouldn't be completely withheld of weaponry! While our Medic holds the primary role of healing his teammates, he is also provided with his own syringe gun and bone saw. You would get equal treatment, Miss [surname]." She gave a feeble attempt of reassuring you.
You tightened your fists a bit. You were no child, and you weren't going to complain or argue like one. You wanted - no, needed - this job, but you weren't going to simply take a role that was lesser than you. You didn't want this experience to feel like an office job that you were simply doing for the money in lieu of passion.
"I understand that much, but I just...need some sort of leverage so I can have the ability to fight like the rest of those men do. I want to be able to wield a pistol more often than some sort of healing device! I want to be able to sneak around the battlefield rather than trail behind my teammates waiting for them to take damage like some sort of leashed dog."
Now it was her turn to show her peeve. Miss Pauling sighed. You could tell she wanted to get this over with and bring you to back to the base as soon as possible, but you weren't going to leave until you were given the position you deserved.
"How about this?" She began, causing you to hold your chin in an intrigued manner. This better be good. "We can give you your pistol of choice in the place of your primary weapon, give you a Medi Gun as a secondary weapon, and allow you your melee of choice as a tertiary weapon. With this in place, you would be able to do mostly damage but still provide fundamental healing when it is necessitous. Would that work out for you?"
A grin formed on your face as you straightened out your back, extending your hand for her to shake.
"You've got a deal, Miss Pauling."
From thereon, you were simply a subordinate to the Medic. Your confidants on RED team saw you much less as a healer and more so as a brutalist, thanks to her. That was exactly what you wanted. All of them acknowledged how incredible you worked with not only a gun, but your hands as well. You knew how to take apart any BLU's body with just a few simple flicks of your wrists. You were the greatest, most viable asset for RED. The BLU's especially knew that much.
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"Jesus, Mortician! That's the third time ya've managed to wipe out half of their team this round!" Scout praised you, clapping in beguilement.
Medic, holding his Medi Gun to your back as you came down from an Übercharge, let out his own approving chuckle.
"Yes, lieber Freund, you've played your cards quite well!"
You scoffed. You were always carping of praise. You knew your worth and didn't need anyone to exemplify that much to you.
"Yeah, yeah. We still have plenty of time left and two more control points to dominate. We need to get back out there."
Turning your head back to face Scout, you noticed his minimal injuries. They weren't nettlesome, but it would help to have them patched before they really did cause him issues.
You cocked your head, signaling the two men into a small area that would be out of sight to any foes. Medic and Scout followed behind you as you ran into a corner, kneeling and beckoning for Scout to join you on the floor. He soon knelt in front of you, still holding his own height above you despite no longer standing on his feet. Pulling out bandages that were affixed within your thigh garter, you patched Scout as efficiently as possible.
"Do you think you can take care of this, Mortician? I think it would be best if I located herr Heavy and assisted him to capture the control point back South." Medic asked, peeking around the surrounding walls to make sure that he didn't have to stay for cover.
You glanced up at him, then back at Scout. Scout gave a curt nod, signifying that the two of you could handle his absence.
"Yeah, go for it. I should be able to do this without any Übercharge," you replied, your hands still moving hastily along the lanky man in front of you.
Scout scoffed, puffing his chest out as to prove his own worth.
"I'll be fine too, y'know!" he bleated.
"Whatever you say, junge," Medic dismissed, jogging out of the area to find Heavy.
You stifled a chuckle at Medic's response, tying a knot in the gauze now wrapped around Scout's arm. You fleetly applied a finishing bandage to a small cut around his deltoid, then stood to your feet.
"Alright, we need to move. Tap into your earpiece and let the others know that we're ready for back up to capture the point," you ordered, pushing past Scout to peek around the corner and check your surroundings.
"Huh?" Scout fussed, placing a hand on your shoulder as he scanned the area ahead with you, his head above your own. "We've got this, toots! Ya just took out five guys back there; this place is sure to be empty!"
You pushed his hand off your shoulder, pulling your pistol out from the garter opposite from the earlier one you snatched the bandages from.
"Just do as I ask, Scout."
"There's not something you're afraid of, is there?"
"Don't push it, Jeremy."
"Alright, alright! Fine," he groaned, tuning in to his earpiece and calling for Engineer and Soldier.
Maybe it was just a lucky guess, or maybe he had been peeping where he most certainly shouldn't be, but he was right. There was something you were afraid of. Well, not necessarily in the genuine aspect of fear, more so just the annoyance of running into the situation. That worry was caused by BLU Scout. He had been tormenting you and hunting you down for multiple missions past. Every corner you turned, he was there. Every sewer you went through, he was there, too. When waiting for a mission to commence, he would be standing at the gate, eyeing you down and wishing you would give him your beloved attention. You couldn't exactly pinpoint why that was. Your own Scout wasn't very fond of you to begin with - so what was BLU's deal? Maybe BLU Mortician wasn't paying his scrawny ass attention anymore. She wasn't nearly as much of a brute as you were and she most certainly had a prudist libido, given from what you heard, she was somewhat of a "perfect little angel," per BLU Scout's words the last time he had decided to throw you into another rendezvous of calamity. That one being the most recent...an interaction you couldn't quite seem to shake off.
"God, it's always such a gift to see you like this, [name]." BLU Scout grinned, watching as you writhed in BLU Sniper's arms.
You didn't give him the pleasure of a verbal response. All you provided him with was a glob of your spit to his eye, causing him to stumble back, wiping furiously at his eyelid. Sniper held you tighter in his grasp as some sort of punishment. Unfortunately, they were just as strong as their RED counterparts. You gritted your teeth, keeping your reactions as minimal as possible.
"Don't do things you'll come to regret, cunt," Sniper muttered, his coffee breath polluting not only your ears but also your nostrils.
"Whatever happened to one-on-one time, Scout? I thought you said you could handle me? Or is it just as hard as it is in private as it is in the middle of the field?" You gibed, a miniscule smirk growing on your face.
Scout growled, not taking kindly to your comment. He swung his bat around in his hand to adjust his grip, then swung it full force at your stomach. You coughed up blood, letting your saliva do the work of dripping it to the ground as your jaw hung open.
"You think I can't handle you? You're a fucking joke! I've just decided that a little more company would be nice..." he trailed, pulling your chin up to close your jaw and bring your eyes to meet his own. "Plus, Snipes here has been dying to get his own turn with ya, toots."
Sniper's own hand snaked up to your breast, groping you through the cloth. You carped. The second they released you they were getting the barrel of your gun to their sweaty foreheads.
"That's right, Sheila. You're a real treat, you know that?"
Don't give in. They're only doing this to keep you from the battle. Their team doesn't stand a chance with you out there and they all know it.
"Fuck you, Sniper," you spat.
Scout released his grip on your chin to slam his fist into your jaw, causing you to spit your blood up once more.
"Is that any way to speak to someone who wants nothing more than to love you, [name]?" Scout made a mockery of you.
Adjusting your jaw with facial shifting, you looked up at him through messy hair. Just as you were about to make a comment, Scout groaned in pain as your RED Spy appeared behind the smaller man, pulling his knife out to switch to his revolver, shooting Sniper before he could do anything more to you. Spy took you by the hand, checking you for injuries.
"Next time, [name], Spy's ass won't be there to save you," Scout weakly uttered as his life drained, returning him to the respawn machine.
"...Hellooooooo? Mortician? What the hell is wrong with you?" Scout's voice was now beyond internal monologue. His bandage-clad hand waved in an "earth-to" motion before your face.
Your eyes snapped up to meet his, his eyebrows contorted with both concern and impatience.
"What? Were you saying something?" You replied, feigning stable composure.
"Uh, yeah?" he scoffed, such as to state the obvious. "Soldier and Hard Hat are on their way; that was what I said," he nudged your shoulder, obliging you to nudge him back twice as hard.
"Then let's get moving!"
You began to run to the area of the control point, checking around each corridor for any signs of movement. This had to be seamless. You had to get this job done. Heavy and Medic were already capturing the other point, and you were sure that they were accompanied by one of the other mercenaries. No problem. Soldier and Engie were already on their way, and they had to be close by. Though, no matter how many times you tried to alleviate the situation, your heart wouldn't stop is bothersome pumping. BLU Scout wasn't nearby, right? Surely not. Maybe you should run a perimeter check? No, you couldn't. It'd make you look weak.
Scout followed close behind you, running up to stand on the gleaming panel. You made your way beside him, holding your pistol primed to shoot anything cerulean that could move. Your finger trembled as it rest on the trigger. You looked incredibly effete. You felt vulnerable like this. You moved to press your back firmly against Scout's, the two of you rotating as you stood over the control point. Almost there, you promised yourself, it's almost red. You could leave, surrounded by nothing but open field and the blue targets you were desperate to get your bullets through.
"ENGIE IS DOWN! I REPEAT, ENGIE IS DOWN!" Soldier's voice boomed through your earpiece, your heart dropping along with your decibels.
Your forsaken hand snapped up to your earpiece, your index finger pressing aggressively against it.
"Was he sniped?!" You catechized, the urgency in your voice much more prominent than you were comfortable with.
"I BELIEVE SO, SALLY! BUT DON'T YOU WORRY, I'M STILL ON MY WA-" Soldier was cut off by a loud bang and the sound of his earpiece exploding.
"Damnit! Sniper blew his head off. Scout is probably around here, too. Watch it," you warned, your blood boiling as anger started to overcome fear. That asshole was hunting you down.
"Since when did they start comin' in pairs?" Scout asked, holding his scattergun to the wall as the two of you continued your twisting.
Your pondering of a response was cut off by the now ruby glow of the control point. The point had been dominated. You could leave. You turned to face Scout, nodding for him to alert the rest of your team.
"We've got the North point!" You heard the taller man's voice ring in both of your ears.
"GREAT, NOW SOMEONE KILL THAT DAMN SNIPER! LAD ALMOST HAD ME HEAD!" Demoman's voice held the same intensity as Soldiers.
"On it," Scout retaliated, making his way for the exit.
Your feet carried you to follow as quickly behind him as possible, but before the both of you could reach the exit, the BLU Scout had blown a bullet through his parallels heart. Your eyes locked onto the man in blue in front of you, anger and dismay bubbling to the surface as your gaze tore into him, though his facial features went to show that he remained unphased.
"Good to see ya, toots."
And just like that, his cocky smirk was concealed as he brought his all-too-familiar bat to collide with your cranium.