In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Sixty-Nine: The Mann in the Ceiling

I turn on the lamp by the door rather than the light switch, A shadow moves out of the corner of my eye. It's not just me and Salvador. Another presence lingers in this area. The air vent is open, swinging by its hinges. It has to be the rats. We have a rat problem. I move closer to the kitchen island under the vent. They're freakishly large, which might be why I'm sometimes able to hear the neighbors when they aren't being that loud to be heard through the walls. A hand smacks on the counter, and I jump back, seeing a man rise from the floor. He towers over me, having to be as tall as Heavy. I'm not even sure if he's a man, but a monster.

Four eyes with rage burning holes through me and four arms, one having a meat cleaver in hand. I shudder upon seeing him, unable to move. His skin is pale as if the sun hasn't touched him in years, and lines on his face highlight his age. Standing in my kitchen, shirtless, because how is someone supposed to clothe themselves with four arms? Scars stretch across his body as his second set of arms protrude from the armpits of where normal arms would go, signaling surgical modifications.

"Ludwig," he rasps with a thick German accent. "Ludwig Humboldt." I can't move. My body refuses to move. He's blocking the way to Salvador. He slowly sets the cleaver down on the counter and lifts all four of his hands to show he's not holding anything else. "Wo ist Ludwig?"

I know little German, but I think I can fill in some blanks. "He... He left." His expression softens when he realizes I don't know his language.

"Are you his Freundin?" He interrogates. Long and tired are good descriptors for his face. Five o'clock shadow. At least he keeps up with himself.

"Somewhat," I answer, no-nonsense. "Did he do this to you?"

"Ja," he darkly confirms. "Ich hasse diesen Mann. Hate." He grasps the knife. "Kill this man." I flinch upon him lifting it, and he sets it back down immediately. "Bring him back." I shake my head, and he leans over the kitchen island. "Warum nicht?"

"I can't," I gently whisper. He's here for Medic, not for me. I highly doubt it's a problem for him to kill me to get to him, though. "He left already." Salvador emerges from his room, marveling at the creature in our kitchen. The man turns around unprompted and picks up the cleaver before vaulting over the counter and grabbing onto me.

"No, Salvamhmm!" I gently raise my voice as he holds onto me with his bottom set of arms and holds the cleaver to my neck and covers my mouth. I shake my head vigorously.

"Let my sister go," Salvador demands. I struggle in his grasp and throw my head to the side.

"He won't hurt you," I manage. The metal edge lifts from my skin. I'm released. I turn and back up a few steps.

"He's going to fucking kill us," Salvador hisses.

"Let me handle this." He squints since he can't understand us. I move my fingers and flick them outward. "Ludwig left. He's gone." He's not pleased. I need to get him to settle down. "What's your name?" He remains silent. "Was ist ihre... Die... Das? Was ist d... Die... name?"

"Nah-meh," he corrects. He points to himself. "Baron Krüger. Wie heißen Sie?"

Might be a stretch, but I'm going to assume he's able to sense deception, even though Mona is technically still my name. I point to myself now. "Mona Fredrickson." I point to Salvador. "Salvador Fredrickson."

"Sal-vuh-do-ah..." He attempts, struggling with his accent. "Moe-nah," he sounds out to himself. "Fräulein Mona."

"Herr Baron," I respond.