AI Generated TF2

Medical Malencholies

(A/N 2110 words)
Whisper knocked twice.

No answer.

He looked in each of the other team's bases.

No team had returned.

He knocked again.

No answer.

But, he heard movement coming from the brush.

He raised the sniper rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope.

A pair of soldiers and a medic were walking.

The two soldiers were taking care of a group of scouts with several injured soldiers on stretchers and the medic was using a heat lamp and some oxygen bottles to cool the scout.

One of the soldiers noticed Whisper through the scope.

"Look at that!

No one's guarding that base." He watched as one of the soldiers picked up a flare gun from one of the stretchers.

"If you're looking for someone in the team, you're looking for that one guy who put a red patch on his chest.

He's a spy," the soldier warned the medic.

Whisper lowered his rifle and brought it to his belt.

He picked up a pair of crutches that had been lying nearby.

He rubbed the thick metal bracelets with his thumbs and tugged at the bottom strap.

"Thanks," he said to the soldier who had spoken.

"Are you going to go get a healer?"

"No. We're on a mission and my commander won't like it if I get hurt," the soldier insisted.

"Is the other team with the medic?

I want to see if they have some wounded that I can fix."

Whisper looked at his bloodied hand.

He used his hands to try and stop the bleeding.

He pulled the bandages tighter, but it didn't seem to make any difference.

One of the soldiers ran over to the medic.

He tapped on the medic's shoulder.

"Sir, we're coming over there.

A scout is hurt."

The medic lifted his head in alarm.

"Who's coming?"

"The team leader.

He's carrying a medic."

"No!" the medic screamed.

He walked over to where the spy had been lying.

He picked up his rifle and he fired at Whisper's bloodied hand.