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Say goodbye to ya kneecaps, chucklehead!	By : Imaginary Category: +S through Z > Team Fortress 2 Views: 1785 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own TeamFortress 2, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Scout grunted in pain as he rolled around on the hard surface he was laying on. The movement woke him up immediately as he realized that even the slightest movement hurt like hell, and it made him howl in pain. His legs were fucking burning, had he been sleeping on a salt pile? He screamed and he howled, and he curled up in fetal position, but it only made him hurt more. His legs barely reacted to any of his efforts to move them. ‟It hurts!‟ He yelled as he tried to gather his legs up so that the knees would no longer touch the ground. It took him seconds to realize what was going on. He was a hostage of the RED scum. They had taken his headphones and backpack, including weapons, but they had let him have everything else. He also noticed that he was no longer bleeding, but he was covered in dried, and partly tried blood. The smell of that coppery substance was sickening, it made him feel ill, and his stomach swelled with nausea. He wouldn't vomit though, he was supposed to withstand this in the battlefield, he would withstand it here, wherever he was. Scout's breath was getting stuck to his throat, and the breathing sounded ragged. He laid on the cold floor, that he assumed to be cement. The floor was covered by dust and there was a small bay of hay at the corner. The room was really dark and cold. The air drafted in the room, making Scout feel like he would be slowly getting ill. His eyes burned thanks to tears which he was unwilling to shed. His legs hurt more than they had ever hurt before. His legs sure had hurt a lot when he did a very long run without no flexing beforehand, leaving him sore for a full week, but this couldn't even be compared to it. Even the pain of dying and having to respawn didn't match this, because respawning was quick, and it would end his misery soon enough. Scout felt himself shake as he was freezing. The room was completely dark, and only a window with bars on it provided him some light from the night sky. The room itself was small and square shaped. There was a drain in the middle of the floor. It was small, and it led straight to the sewers, and it made constant sploshing noises as the water ran in the pipes. The tiny room didn't have anything in it. The room was big enough for Scout to lay in the room floor in his full height twice. The was only one iron door leading out of the room, and it had a slot on it at head's height, probably so people could check on him. The walls of the room were painted red, and the paint was chipping off.

‟I'm fucking freezing.‟ Scout's teeth started to clatter against each other as the other thought what he should do next. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to be here, and he didn't want any of this. He tried to move to uncoil himself to move, but his legs protested painfully. He couldn't move them at all. He had to, though. He was a curious man, and he just had to find out if his legs could still be salvaged. He tried his best to move a toe, and he could see that the toes were twitching, and that meant that the nerves or joints or whatever those were, were still at least somewhat intact. Or so he thought. He had watched enough movies to know that. How come the hero in the movie could shake off a bullet hit on his arm like it was nothing, and Scout was hissing in pain with his own injuries.

He couldn't fucking stand. He couldn't walk, run, skip, dance, stride, anything. He was fucking handicapped! Could his legs ever be fixed? Being able to move one's toes must be a good sign, even if his bones were shattered. Bones would always grow back, right? Who needed bones anyways, he could have a surgery or something, didn't that fix everything?

God, he needed to move. He needed to get out from the room, besides, the grating that was set on top of the drain was digging at his chest rather uncomfortably.

He would try the door. He decided, and the started to turn around so he would facing the right direction. The door wasn't even far, he could get the in two or so pulls of he dragged his body with his hands. He hissed as he turned so that the wounds on his knees were touching the dirt. It hurt so bad, the smarting was probably the worst. It was like he had a itch that he couldn't scratch, but instead of that annoying itch, there was a world of blinding pain. He bit his teeth as he ignored it. He would need to get moving. Scout grabbed the ground with his hands, and he pushed his fingers hard against the ground. He would pull himself across, and he would endure the pain it caused him, yet, he screamed the whole way with the first drag. He was glad that he couldn't pull himself any further forward, because he needed some air in his lungs. Goddamnit he hurt. He didn't wish to survive, he just wanted this pain to end. He wondered where all those people got their will to live in situation like this, limbs broken, in the middle of nothing with no hopes of surviving, where every move you did hurt more than anything you had known so far.

He would never watch those damn surviving movies ever again.

He could do this, the door was so close he could almost reach it, he was only one pull away. He could do this, the pain wasn't that bad. He prepared for another drag forward, and he hissed in pain from his legs, but he was there. He had made it to the door. He immediately started to push the door and pull from the door handle that was bolted on the door, but the door didn't move an inch. He had not even expected it to, but he still wanted to try. ‟Is anyone there!‟ He yelled, and he banged on the door. ‟Open the goddamn door!‟ He yelled, but he heard no answer. Those RED bastards were probably sleeping off in their cozy beds, even that Sniper would be dreaming of his fucking kangaroo wife at the moment. ‟Let me out goddamnit!‟ Scout yelled, and he hit the door in rage. ‟Fuckers!‟ He yelled at the top of his lungs, hoping that he would wake them all up and at least make them stay up for the rest of the night. ‟You monsters.‟ He hissed, and he looked up. The lid was heavily placed on the door, and it had not been moving an inch no matter how hard Scout had hit the door. If he only could even reach the lid. He moved to sit up so he wouldn't have to hold himself up with his arms, and he tried to reach for it, but he was too short. He would have to stand on his knees to reach there, but his legs were in no shape to do so. He couldn't get his legs under him properly, needless to say that he wouldn't be able to hold them still to stand on them. Besides, he was afraid that his legs would bend or break in to even force shape than they were now.

‟I hate you all.‟ He hissed, as he thought of going for the window, but he knew that it would be no use. The window was even higher than the peephole on the door, he could never be able to reach the bars. Yet, the wind had no troubles at getting to him. He was gold, and he hated the hard floor. It made his tights and ass fall asleep as he sat on the hard floor. He didn't want places to hurt and sting to boot. He was beat, he just wanted to curl up somewhere soft and warm and sleep. He wanted to sleep more than he had ever wanted to before.

And suddenly the hay pile in the corner seemed the most inviting.

Scout groaned as he once again got himself back to his stomach to prepare to drag himself, and he wished that he was too tired to feel it, but he did. He started dragging himself, and he whimpered on every move. He had to take several breaks to breath and collect himself. He looked behind him at times to see how far from the door he had already got, and it nauseated him to see two trails of blood marking his way. The wounds on his knees had obviously reopened during the first few drags, and he was bleeding and getting dirt on his wounds.

‟I don't even fucking care.‟ He hissed, and he turned around to start moving again. He started to pull himself forward put he hissed in minor pain. His fingernails started to chip and break under his weight at the task they were given. Scout bit his cheek in pain, and he rolled on his back in exhaust. He wasn't even that far away, he was nearly there. Was he this worthless? So fucking wimp that he couldn't even do this. The Sniper always told how he had slept in a corpse of a buffalo, Soldier always told how they had yet to see what war was like, and how they were too weak to be on his battlefield.

He wasn't weak. He was the one of the few who got to take part in this fight, that made him better than others. He had made it this war. He would fight through this. He would proceed those few feet he had left to go. Scout started to proceed backwards, moving more slow than previously, but it didn't hurt his legs that much. He lifted himself up in a lifting position, and he started to push his body backwards with his hands. He hated the position. In this position he couldn't help but look at his feet, and he hated it. He loathed the mere sight of them. He was supposed to be the fastest one alive, and he no longer could even walk. His legs were soaked in blood, the knees were in horrible shape and barely recognizable as knees. Where the kneecaps should be were now two huge staring wounds that were dent, showing that something was obviously missing. The wounds were so horrible looking, he wanted to retch at the sight of it. There were two red holes with half dried blood everywhere, the flesh was light at the edges and angry red around it. There was white pus coming from his legs, and the dirt that had gotten all over the wound would be there to stay. He knew that his legs would be very badly inflamed if he couldn't get them cleaned, but he knew that he wouldn't be granted such luxury here.

Scout pushed himself the last few feet he had left, and he fell heavily on his bed of hay. His hands were smarting, and he rubbed them on his shirt. He had gotten a road rash on his hands thanks to this movement, bit it was nothing compared to everything else that he was enduring at the moment. Scout didn't even care if he would get more dirt in his wounds, he just wanted to sleep. He pulled some hay over him as a blanket, and he fell asleep on the pillow of hay.

The morning came too soon for the Scout. It didn't come in with happily chirping birds, but with angry yelling Soldier.

‟What is it with you maggot, attention!‟ The Soldier yelled, and he kicked Scout's leg, causing the other to roar in pain. His vision went completely white from pain for a second, and he wished for a slow death for the fucker who dared to cause this.

‟Stop it!‟ He yelled, and tried to swing his arm as an attack or a defense, but the Soldier was too far.

‟No, you stop it!‟ The Soldier yelled and he took as step forward and he took Scout by his shirt collar, and lifted him up against the wall, causing the other to sob in pain.

‟Tell me what you know!‟ The Soldier pushed, but Scout only whimpered in pain. His legs were twitching in the air as Soldier shook him, and the movement felt like someone was putting his knees slowly through a grinder. It felt like someone was persistent to get rid of his legs by shaving them off with sandpaper.

‟I don't know anything!‟ Scout hissed, and he tried to close his eyes as tight as he could to block it all out. ‟That was not the answer I am looking for!‟ The Soldier growled, and prepared for another assault, but Scout couldn't have it. ‟No, no! I don't even know what to say!‟ Scout tried to cover his face with his hands as he still hung against the wall in pathetic way.

‟Tell me what's in the briefcase.‟ The Soldier grinned, obviously feeling like he was getting to somewhere. ‟I don't know.‟ Scout murmured, only to get the Soldier tighten his grasp on Scout's collar. ‟I seriously don't know! I have never seen in to it! I have never opened one, I don't know anything!‟ The Scout was near his breaking point, but there honestly wasn't any information he could give. There was no way he could survive from this. He wasn't even brave, he was just a pathetic brat, wishing he was something better.

‟Tell me who knows, then.‟ The Soldier pushed on, and Scout wasted a lot of effort trying to shake his head. ‟I don't know, I'm not sure if anyone in the base knows!‟ With the free hand Soldier hit Scout on the face so hard that his lip split. ‟Maybe Spy knows! He knows everything! Also, the woman in the speaker.‟ Scout yelled, and he salivated badly. ‟Maybe the CEO too, I don't know, seriously!‟ Scout was shaking, and he was hurting. He felt so tired he could faint, but he was too scared of getting hurt even more. He was scared as hell that the Soldier would make sure that he would never respawn again. This was serious, not a game like it had been previously, a fight with no consequences since you weren't even dying for real.

‟Well tell us how to contact those people.‟ Soldier said with smooth voice that sounded surprisingly coherent and way too calm to be for real. It scared Scout.

‟I can't say.‟ He mumbled, not willing to tell anything. This was his team they were talking about after all. ‟I know you do.‟ Came the answer. Scout could hear rustle of fabric, and he could feel that the Soldier was holding his collar in his fist so hard that he could hear the seams of his shirt rip. Scout knew he was about to punch his lights off, and he lifted his hands to protect his face on instinct.

But the punch didn't come. Scout moved his hands away from his face enough so he could see, but his hands still protected the most of the sides of his head. Soldier's fist wasn't far away from his face, the man would have crushed his nose if he would have hit that punch.

‟You cover your head in a strange way.‟ The Soldier mused, and Scout was confused.

‟Others would lift their hands to place them on as big of a area to cover their face, but you also lift your shoulders to protect your ears.‟ The other mused this as if it was the key factor to all of this, but Scout wasn't following. He did it on reflex, and he was sure he did it just like everyone else.

‟Because unlike others, you have something on your ears worth protecting.‟ The Soldier grinned madly, and Scout swallowed. ‟Your headphones.‟ Scout hadn't thought of his headphones at the moment of the interrogation, but it was now obvious why he no longer had them. The RED didn't want him to contact his team, but now the RED Soldier realized that it could as well be used for them to contact the enemy without them knowing.

‟It wouldn't work! It's a wasted effort!‟ Scout tried to convince, but he knew it was too late. The Soldier was already letting him go and dropped him on the floor with more force than was necessary to make sure that an already beaten man would not rise up again. Scout howled in pain. He didn't even want to open his eyes, he was afraid of what he might see.

‟Your team's secret plans will not remain secret anymore.‟ The Soldier laughed, as he took strides out of the small cell Scout was in, and he threw the heavy door closed behind him.

‟They would already have shut down the connection since I didn't respawn!‟ Scout yelled, but it was too late. Not a single sound could get through that iron door.

At some point Scout had fallen asleep. He was awoken with a kick on his ribs, witch made his sides ache.. ‟Get up, wanker.‟ The voice said, and Scout picked himself up on a sitting position in a second, and only after that did he grimace in pain. The pain was getting different. It was getting more sensitive, the infection must be getting stronger, it felt like his legs were in fire.

‟I got 'yer food.‟ The Sniper murmured and pushed a brown bowl of soup on Scout's lap, spilling some of it's contents, and making the plastic spoon swirl. Scout took a glance at the bowl, and he assumed it was leftovers of whatever garbage the team had been saving for him. The stew was so thick you couldn't identify any of the ingredients.

‟What's innit?‟ Scout asked warily, not sure if he dared to taste it, even if his stomach felt like it was famished.

‟It's a common broth, now eat it.‟ The Sniper growled and was taking a step backwards, but he sighed in annoyance as Scout didn't make a move to eat it. The poor guy was afraid that it was spiced with rat poison.

‟Well, if 'ye don't want it, I will help myself.‟ He said, and picked up the bowl. When Sniper took a generous amount of the broth on his spoon and was about to eat it, Scout was already getting regretful. He tried to lift his arm up to stop Sniper and to reach for the bowl, but the man was a fucking giant, he hardly reached the man's belt.

‟This broth here is damn delicious. I might just have it for myself.‟ The Sniper said with mouth full of food. ‟Hey, you were supposed to give it to me!‟ The Scout whined and swung his hand around as if trying to get the Sniper's attention, even if he knew the man had it already.

‟Nah, Learn to share sunny. You didn't want it in the first place.‟ The Sniper took another spoonful, and Scout hit the other on the shin, but was disappoint to find that his hand lacked strength. ‟Just give it to me.‟ The Sniper looked at the Scout with a raised brow. The other was a mess. A pitiful excuse of a man. His legs weren't even in a natural position, jutting in weird angles from the knees, and his lip was angry red and swollen. The kid even had bags under his eyes. Sniper looked at the other's hand, and he noticed that the skin on Scout's palm was torn, but the kid didn't even seem to notice. Sniper thought that he wouldn't either, if he was on the other's position.

‟Fine, fine, just be thankful that I did. The Medic wouldn't be this kind.‟ Sniper sneered as he hit the bowl on Scout's arm. The boy immediately scooped it closer to his body as if to shield it from the other. The Sniper only snorted at that and left to room with long strides.

Scout didn't mind. He was too busy stuffing his mouth with food. It was old, obviously leftovers, but it felt like a feast to a starved man. He got the food in his mouth in as big of a spoonful as he could, almost choking on his food, but he didn't care, he was starving.

Little did Scout know that things would only get worse after this.

His condition started to make a mad dash to the worse after that. No matter how much he slept he still felt tired all the time. Every day the Soldier paid him a not so friendly visit, and with every visit he was getting more and more tired and and he felt like surrendering. All his defenses were slowly falling, and he was losing his interest in trying to fight. He would rather just answer the other's questions than endure the beating. Not that he had much to say. He wasn't the trusted soldier, nor the liked storyteller in their group, and he was not worth questioning. Even he knew it, and he was sure that the RED Soldier was slowly understanding it too. Soldier got more and more irritated and snappy on every interrogation they held. Scout could almost see the thin line of amusement the man had from interrogating him wane. He was sure that soon his interest would snap, and he was as good as dead.

Scout hoped that whenever it came to that, the soldier would at least be quick about it. Scout usually ended up beaten on the best of the meetings. He did not want to see what the Soldier would do once he was of no use to him.

The time when he wasn't getting fed or interrogated by the REDs wasn't interesting either. He was usually too tired to even move, only resting in his hay pile like a unmoving corpse. The flies were getting in through the window and they wandered over him. Scout didn't care. Sometimes he just sat still and looked at them. The little fucker's were just eating sweat and dirt from his skin, shitting on his arms. They cleaned their tiny see through wings with their ugly hairy feet, and they flied away when Scout tensed in random pain. The flies were probably the most interesting thing in this place. No-one came to see him in his cell unless it was necessary, meaning that no-one ever came by. He was still too short to reach the window to see out. Sometimes he dragged himself over to the window so he could rest under it. He could feel the war sun on his face on a sunny warm day, and the cold rain that poured in his cell at the cold nights. Sometimes the water was just refreshing. It made him feel a tiny bet more alive, and then he could lick the moist off the concrete walls in his thirst.

Nowadays, he was simply too tired to lift his head up from the floor. He was too tired to even mind the pain, needless to say he did not feel like spending the little energy he had to swapping away the vermins on his body. The pain had dulled in to constant burning, but he no longer felt actual pain or stinging. On good days he could drag himself all the way across the floor, and not even feel his legs.

At the current moment he was sitting in his hay pile, listening to the water splosh on the sewers. He could also hear crickets outside the window. It was a hot day. He hated hot days. They were insufferably hot, making him sweat and feel more drained than usual. What was the worst was how the warmth made everything stink. It made the sewer stink like a vomit that was rotting inside an animal's corpse that had drowned in the damn sewer. And that wasn't even the worst smell. The worst smell must have been his own shit. He had managed to pee through the drains grate, but the grating was too small to fit his shit through. Sometimes he crawled over so he could try and push it though with his own hand, or with a little pit of his precious hay, but some of it always got left behind to dry and smell in the sun.

He was disgusted by it.

Actually, there were many things that he wasn't that disgusted by, even if he had previously thought so.

Of course he still was really disgusted and disturbed by the sight of his feet, but he still held hope that one day they could be fixed. Now he was only staring at his knees to see what the flies were doing there. The flies were summoned by the aromas in the air, and they had come to have a feast. There were many of them swarming on his knees, and it amused Scout. He couldn't feel any of them, but he still could see them, it was almost as frightening as it was amusing. The flies kept eating the dirt off it, and getting even more bacteria in it. The leg had gotten really bad. Everything below his knee had gone in to a really weird color. Everything below the knee was sickly red, almost orange, dead looking and stiff. His toes had stopped moving some days ago. The knees were worse though. The skin around the wound was very angry red, and the wound was soaking yellow and orange pus. Some parts of his legs, mainly around the wound area, were turning black and it stunk so bad that some of the RED refused to come bring him his dinner. Sniper still did it though, he always commented on it, but referred to his night in the buffalo corpse, and made sure that Scout understood that he was a ‟man enough to deal with this.‟.

Scout could not believe that he could be reduced to the point when he eventually would loathe his own two feet.

Seeing himself go in to such a pathetic state only made him wish for a sleep that he wouldn't awaken from until his leg was better and he was back in the BLU headquarters, sleeping in his own comfortable bed.

At the same time, on the other side of the prison cell were RED Medic, Sniper and Engineer, all discussing of their captive.

‟He has gotten very bad during this last week.‟ Sniper commented, and he even took his hat off to rest it against his chest. The poor kid was really getting in to bad shape there.

‟Jawohl. Hiz legs are dying.‟ Medic commented, but he didn't seem any different.

‟Medic, that poor son there is going to die on us!‟ The Engineer hissed, and he pulled his hardhat to the back to make sure it didn't cover his goggles and vision.

‟Dat is not my problem.‟ Medic went to the door and he opened the peephole. The Scout was sleeping, and the flies were flying all around his body, probably waiting for the kid to kick the bucket soon enough so they could all have a feast. Soldiers maggots were probably getting impatient. ‟Dat filthy BLU deserves no better.‟

‟That filthy BLU could be on 'ya medical table, getting a part in you medical experiments, and don't 'ya even say that 'ya didn't consider it.‟ The Sniper grunted as he gasped his hat so hard it wrinkled.

‟Not to mention, I want him too, but not for medicine.‟ The Engineer putted in, and the Medic laughed. ‟Ha, you only want him for your stupid robot experiment, let me tell you, it iz not going to work!‟ The Engineer looked offended, and he hit the medic on his shoulder. ‟I know it will. I just need someone to test my theory on! The drawings are nearly complete!‟ The medic only shook his head. ‟You and your drawingz. What doez it take for you to notice, that you are only making those scribbles in theory, and not always will it work in real life.‟ The Engineer looked like he was boiling, and hissed to the other so low, yet so loud that the saliva hit Medic on the face. ‟It will work, and I will prove it. You just wait and see.‟

The Sniper had gotten enough of this and came in between, separating them both before a fight could emerge. It had been like this for a long while. The Medic and the Engineer obviously had very different views on things, and now they had started fighting over the corpses to boot. They both needed guinea bigs for their own little experiments that obviously crossed paths with the other's believes. ‟Stop it, you two. You are both acting like immature wankers!‟

‟Who is being immature!‟ Came a fourth noise out of nowhere, and all three turned around to look at the Soldier. He had probably come to interrogate the poor soul some more.

‟These two are!‟ Sniper commented before neither of the two could defend themselves.

‟Quiet you bushman! I demand some respect.‟ The Medic said, but the Engineer laughed at his face. ‟Do you now, you sick bastard.‟ And before another fight could begin, the Soldier yelled to get all their attention.

‟How is the hostage?‟ The Soldier asked, and Medic was immediately telling him about his very infected legs. Telling how they were slowly rotting away, and how the infection would soon spread to the Scout's entire body, killing him. ‟Dying is what he goddamn is!‟ The Engineer yelled, trying to get the others to listen to reason.

‟Just tell me Soldier, has the kid been of any use lately? I bet he has ran out of information to give, just wasting our time in that sell.‟ The Engineer hissed, and the Soldier nodded hesitantly. ‟I'm disappointed to see that you are correct.‟ The other said, but Soldier had been too caught up with his new found position as a torturer and interrogator, that he had not cared. ‟That Bloody BLU rat should be killed, he is a waste of space!‟

‟I suggest, that you let me have him.‟ The Engineer said, but the medic came in. ‟Nain, he iz mein! I want him for medicine!‟ He yelled, and Sniper slammed his palm to his forehead. There they would go again.

‟I want to experiment his body so I can prepare a cure for cases like this!‟ The Medic explained, but the engineer pushed him off, trying to get the Soldier on his side, after all, everything went by the Soldier's approval. ‟Unfair! Medic has had every single corpse we find in the field, I want just one who is alive!‟

‟That kid is not going to live much longer, you wont have time to do anything on him.‟ The Sniper reminded, sounding very annoyed by their pitiful quarreling.

‟I just want him alive, that doesn't mean I want him in one peace.‟ The Engineer grinned, making the Medic grin too. It meant that there was still hope for him.

‟Engineer, would you accept my suggestion that we share. I want everything that is below knee level. It will be a clean cut a bit over the knees, almost from the halfway of tight.‟ The Medic was overjoyed. He wouldn't need that boy, he would have had to kill him off anyways. He could have all he needed from the legs. ‟Deal.‟ The Engineer said victoriously, and the two shook hands.

‟Now will 'ya two wankers go get that sorry sob outta there?‟ The Sniper hissed, as the others nodded.

‟At least that BLU fucker wont be any information to rat about us to his pitiful team. Better yet, that lightweight is dead to his team already! A goddamn castaway he is! Engineer will be in charge of the BLU rat. He will not be welcome in the base, and I want you to keep close eye on him. I don't want you to leave him from you sight, or it will be me who you respond to!‟ The Soldier threatened, and the Engineer knew full well to take it seriously, and to the heart. ‟Positive.‟

‟Gud. We have some work to do, people to cut, my bone saw is in good sharp!‟ The Medic laughed madly, and led the group in to the cell, banging the door loudly open.

The door slam awoke Scout, and he jolted up. There were many REDs coming in to his cell, which was very unusual, and thus very, very scary. They had the Medic with them, and the man was smiling like the devil himself, scaring the shit out of Scout.

‟What is going on.‟ The Scout mumbled, being mad at himself how even he himself could hear the fear in his own voice.

‟You are coming with is.‟ The Soldier explained, and in two steps he was already standing by Scout's hay pile. The man took a very firm hold of Scout's slim forearm, and the grip was so tight Scout was sure he would bruise. The hold hurt.

‟Sorry kid, this wont be 'ya lucky day.‟ The Sniper murmured as he took a firm hold of Scout's other arm. The BLU tried to hit and bite the others, anything to save himself, but he didn't have enough strength. He barely could challenge Soldier when he was healthy, he had no chance in his fatigued state.

‟What are you doing, let me be, no!‟ The Scout yelled, and he tried to fight back as much as he could, but he only got a firm hit from Soldier, silencing him effectively.

‟Take him to mein hozpital.‟ The medic instructed, and the others started to drag the Scout's body away, causing the other to scream in pain for the whole way. The little feeling he had left in his legs was telling that he was feeling the worst pain in his life. As his head was looking on the ground, he could see how the ground was tearing off small peaces of his kin, and how his legs were bleeding badly. ‟It hurts!‟ He howled, but no-one listened.

The men silently dragged him all the way to the Medic's supposed to be hospital. ‟No, don't take me there!‟ The Scout yelled. He had heard spook stories from the spy, saying that the RED Medic took in innocent people, tested on them, and they never got to see the light of the day again. He had always been scared of those stories. He was fucking horrified.

‟No!‟ He yelled, but the others just took a better grip of his twitching body and threw him on one of the beds that was reserved for patients. It was the Sniper who tied the Scout on the bed with belts. ‟You will be needing some restraints if you know what is good for you.‟ The Bushman mumbled.

The Medic laughed a little, and hummed the words ‟Is good for you.‟ as if he was imitating the Sniper. The man went to get his things, but Scout was horrified as he saw the man pull out his bone saw. He was sure that the man would dismember him.

‟Oh thiz zure will be for your good. You should be thankful, it's either thiz, or you die. I sure am thankful myself.‟ The Medic cackled, and he laid the bone saw above Scout's knee a little bit under the half way of tight, and Scout tried to fight against the restraints with all that he had got, but with futile attempts.

‟Wait, won't you even sedate him?‟ The Engineer tried to put in, but the Medic had already started the procedure. "Az if he could feel after his leg haz gone to necrosis."

And did Scout scream. The Boy yelled so loud, that he had never been so loud before. Not even the pain he had felt during the first few days in the cell compared to this, and he was disappointed to notice that his leg was fully able to feel the pain in all of it's potential.

‟Just keep screaming.‟ The Medic laughed in sickly sadist way, making the Scout want for at least a little bit faster death than this one, because he was going to die.

It was the combination of pain, blood loss and exhaustion, but Scout couldn't endure even to the halfway of the procedure. He could see how the Medic threw his severed leg to the side, but by that point his vision was already dimming. He didn't care, and then he fainted in to darkness with absolutely nothing in it. No thoughts, no dreams, no nothing. Not even nightmares.
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Say goodbye to ya kneecaps, chucklehead!