In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Thirty-Three: Good Mercenaries

        "Bird heads?" Miss Pauling asks again, for the fourth time.

"Yes, bird heads. Parrots and owls and cardinals and stuff. Birds," I elaborate. "I don't know how long this'll take to fix."

"Keep me updated on that. I'm currently digging my seventeenth shallow grave out of forty right now, so we might be here a while. Pauling out." She hangs up, and I step around Medic who's been following me around the common room as I paced in a circle for the past fifteen minutes.

"Something you need from me, Medic?" I finally ask while shoving my phone back into my backpack.

"Yes, but there are some things I should inform you of for our current predicament. Learning from previous interactions, I'm effectively useless in this field. Perhaps from what you've heard of me, you've deduced that I've tried next to everything to reverse our status, but that is not possible. It doesn't do much to us, and it's by no means bad if we're going to discuss mortality issues."

"That's all fine and dandy, but how do we undo it?"

"Is our appearance unsavory?"

I hear screaming and screeching in a distance and point my thumb behind me. "That is unsavory."

"Found one!" Scout yells from the armory. Medic leads me over as he continues to brief me.

"Our task will be slightly more difficult since Engineer has placed a temporary ban on the teleporters. The control points in the warehouse portion of the fort are all occupied at the current moment. We must capture our points again from our undead adversaries and try to push to the heart of the building to defeat the ceremonial antagonist clone."

"There are zombies?" I lift my eyebrows.

"Ja. They're really called 'Voodoo-Cursed Souls' or something of the like, but we call them zombies to anger Merasmus," Medic yawns as we approach Scout. "Found one of what?"

Scout tosses a small statuette up and catches it, shaking it in his hand. "Soul Gargoyle. Finder's keepers."

"As the saying goes," he coos and adjusts his glasses. "Ah, yes, I should note that our avian tendencies are completely involuntary that range from less than ideal diets to unnecessary preening and all the way to screaming as a group for no reason in particular as you heard earlier. If I begin to laugh at you for no reason, I apologize in advance."

"Alright..." I accept. "But didn't you need something, hun?'

"Ja," he chuckles as he bows his head. "I require you to pet me."

Scout bends over to tap his beak to my cheek. "Aw, yeah! Me, too!"

I don't even think for a second, giving them both attention. With one hand, Scout nuzzles his beak into my palm while softly trilling and smoothing out the feathers on Medic's head with the others. This feels so odd but satisfying at the same time. He straightens up and ruffles his feathers.

"I apologize for getting you side-tracked... We should perhaps go pay Engineer a visit, hmm? I'll meet you there, I must go restock in my clinic."

"Ah man, this is the good stuff," Scout warbles as he melts in my hands with Medic's absence. I snicker, and he quickly stands up, taking a scattergun from his locker. He looks at the pistol on my belt and takes out a shotgun as well. "Right uh, gonna go knock some heads together. You should take this."

"Why does everyone assume I suddenly know how to properly shoot a shotgun?"

"I mean... I just thought it made sense what with... Y'know...?" He shrugs.