Chapter Text
"I'd kill for a beer." I say. Immediately after, I snort with laughter at the clear mental image, seeing a BLU through my scope about to take a sip and pulling the trigger. Hell, a beer would as much a reason as anything to do it, and isn't that just about right?
Doc snorts as well, dismissive. "The swill they send us you can't even call a real bier."
"Nah, maybe not, but it's better than nothing." I shrug. Regular deliveries are a week off, and beer and cigarettes're always the first things to run out. You're in charge of rationing your own smokes, and you can always go into town once you're off the clock, 'less the fight gets moved to some outpost or other that's too far.
Which would be now. I never mind being out in the middle of nowhere-- job's the same, and they'll ship us back to Teufort soon enough, and it's nice not having the townies stare at you. But running out of beer's just unfortunate.
We only get one radio station out here, and no tele, so it's the same deal day in, day out in the common lounge. Chiffons are on, talking about a sweet-talking guy, and I am still a beer away from being able to tolerate bubblegum teenybopping pop crap.
Scout eats it up, or I'd turn it off. Then again, it's all there is, and Pyro always seems like he's listening, too. Dunno about the others. Then again, right now, the lounge is half-empty. More than half, don't think Heavy counts when he's sleeping.
So Heavy's like a snoring mountain in an easy chair, and the Doc's got the chair beside his, and a book. Scout and Pyro have the radio. I've got a headache.
"Fine." Doc sighs after a minute. I try to rewind to our conversation. Something about beer. "I can never stand the stuff... I'd buy my own, but even when we are back at Teufort, there's nothing but cheap American swill in the store... You can take mine."
"You're telling me there's still a beer on this base?"
"At least one. I always take a couple when the supplies roll in, and then I always shove it to the back of the fridge when I remember how rotten it is. You're welcome to it."
My evening was looking up. I could even put up with shoving my way past a couple medical samples-- one beer wouldn't get me tipsy, but it'd get me mellow enough to put up with the soppy request show that was coming. Or I'd take it outside and just enjoy the silence.
I don't know what the Doc's got on hand now-- I know he travels with a blood-stained cooler full of what he calls 'essentials'-- but I do know he's waiting on a special delivery of his own, when we get moved back 'home' to Teufort. Tuned out most of his speech on the subject, pretty sure I didn't really hear him say 'heart transplants for everyone'.
I mean, I'm good with the ticker I got. Must've misheard him.
Anyway, nothing in his personal fridge I don't deal with on a daily basis. At least, this is what I thought, and what I would've been happy to go on thinking, and once I know different I need that beer he promised worse'n ever.
"Holy dooley!"
"... Kill me?"
I close the fridge, then open it again.
The head's still there, still looking up at me with pleading wet eyes and a hangdog mouth, and it's a severed head, and it's alive, and I'm really starting to want something a hell of a lot stronger than beer now.
"Please, kill me,"
"I can't-- I don't-- What are you? I--"
"Please?" It has its own ashtray, which is what pushes everything just beyond... I mean, I could think I was imagining things, if I was the type to imagine, but that just makes things real.
"I can't. I'm just here for a beer, if I mess with his stuff, the Doc'll have my-- erm, that is..."
"Please." It presses. He, I guess. The BLU Spy. This would explain why he hasn't killed me in a while... "I don't want to live like this."
I grab the beer, hand shaking, and pull the wire connecting him to a battery.
"That might kill you." I say, surprised at the apology in my own voice. "If it does, you did it yourself. If it doesn't, and he asks, you did it yourself."
"Thank you," There's an awful gasping sound, and a heavy gratitude in his eyes even as they start to lose focus.
I close the fridge fast and take my beer out onto the roof. No, it's certainly not enough to make me forget about this. But I'd rather have it than not, at the end of it all...