A thick, rasped, breathy snarl, hissed out. "N-Neiiiin."

"Ah, ah, in English. Let me understand you." He held the hips of the once human above him, keeping him still and hoping the request didn't earned him a torn apart throat and chest cavity.

" . . . . . .Nevahhhhgh. . . . . .Not you. . . .Sssp . . . ."

He was considered unusual at best, a man dedicated to keeping his face hidden and identity, even to his teammates, only known as Spy.

Until he met the forgotten man.

Once upon a story, a decade or so ago, the RED Team was complete, all nine needed members, the team wholly complete, a perfect set of killers and capturers prepared to do their job, their base at the famous 2Fort, their home.

The Medic of the team was a bright-eyed young man, fresh to the team and full of life and hope, aiding those who needed him without complaint. He was a doctor after all, and a damn good one.

But he worked for RED, and it corrupted him, to an extent.

Bloodlust began to rise within his soul each passing battle and he began healing only when absolutely compulsory, a shard of his innocence and kind-heartedness fading every time his stained saw destroyed another Respawn-dependant life.

He knew how to utterly destroy a heart and turn it to pitiful cinders, but had the sheer intellect and power to revert it into the flawless working organ he had begun with. Within the space of a few short months, he became infamous to both teams, given the cold codename of 'The Battle Medic'. With all his power, he felt akin to a god, a master over the human body.

And then he fell.

Upon one fury blurred day, the Medic was raging in battle at the 2Fort, when something hard, sharp and heavy struck his temple, his glasses cracking as his fell into the open waterworks of the area, being pulled into the great gaping pipes, the Pyro running away with a blood-stained axe, victorious.

No one on either team saw him again, but his legend remained, passed on to the new members after some of the veterans retired, of the ice blooded doctor who fell because of his hunger for rage and war.

No one dared to venture anywhere near the sewers or pipes, even as the new members became older in themselves, the fear of the man that one day plummeted into the water may be down there too great.

But memories are only memories, and fade with each passing day.

Like a breeze.

A decade after the semi-forgotten mortal had joined the REDs, the battle still raged on, both teams scoring points at the 2Fort, only one of the original team still fighting on in the war, in his war. The Heavy. He had been Medics friend, and was utterly heart broken when after one conflict his closest battle partner had gone for good, but maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it may have been for the best. War had wormed its way into the Germans psyche and corrupted him to the very core. One day he would have gone too far. He often wondered if he was still alive, while the others had just assumed the Respawn had glitched and the demon in disguise had fallen like his many still living victims; only scratch the still living part.

A Sentry beeped above the Spy, a friendly one, as he watched in silence the general hubbub of the days fight, a handful of scattered REDs tentatively wandered across the wooden bridge that connected over the deep channel of sewer water and lay over the rusted pipes that lead beneath both team bases.

Giving the tiniest of grins, the cloaked Spy shuffled over to the wayward REDs in silence, coming up behind their surprisingly cautious Scout and ramming his knife into the base of his neck, dodging swiftly as the Demoman saw and swung for him.

Usually, the Frenchman's balance was flawless, but the Scotsman's sword caught him just above his ear, his crimson mask tearing as the creaking timber below his feet gave way, and he fell to the murky waters below.

When he awoke, cool, gloomy water was lapping at the side of his head, nursing the aching pain in the side of his skull gently.

He sat up vigilantly, turning his head to see where he was.

Pipes.

Pipes.

Pipes.

Pipes as far as the eye could see, a network.

The Spy stood shakily, sodden and cold, and he wrapped his suit-clad arms around himself, shivering violently.

It was dark, but his strong eyes could see, his senses heightened, and the thick smell of blood – presumably his own – became painfully obvious and sickening to him.

Slowly, he began to trek though the shin-deep liquid. The water had carried him somewhere and he needed to get out, to get help, to find the current BLU Medic to fix up his throbbing head gash . . . . Or, if worse comes to worst, find a RED that could put him out of his misery and send him home via Respawn.

After four solid miles of pipeline, he was officially lost, and his bones felt like rock-hard ice.

But he didn't miss it.

He did not miss the fleeting sight he saw, two hovering, glowing topaz spheres in the heart of the darkness, a long way away, which flitted away as fast as they came, a slight splashing noise from far-off echoing back to him.

He didn't miss the slight growling noise that followed the sound of the moving liquid.

He didn't miss the tiny nagging noise at the back of his head to just run.

And he definitely did not miss the growling voice murmuring lowly through the pipes.

" . . . . . .Sssp. . . . .yyy. . . . . ."

He struggled to even his breathing, lightheadedness seeping into his body and his legs moving lazily, stumbling often.

Every sound he made was ten times louder.

A wayward rat scuttled past his leg and Spy leapt a mile, yelping and leaping out of its way as the rodent ran though the water.

Then he realized.

And he froze.

And he stopped breathing.

And there was still the sound of tiny, hurried breaths.

From behind him.

Achingly slow, the BLU Frenchman turned, to be met with the same glowing orbs, a few feet away this time. Spys breath hitched in his throat, the orbs coming closer, until the aura radiating from them defined what they were.

Eyes.

He was frozen in place as the limping figure grew closer, and the BLU could make out every detail.

Thick, coal black hair was mattered on his head, a fleshy scar disappearing into the left side, a slight curl of the damp hair upon his forehead. Cracked glasses lay lopsided over the almost flaming, pupiless eyes, resting upon sharp, pointed ears, the lens nearest the scar chipped and broken. His mouth was filled with razor sharp, needle like fangs, hissing slightly, like an enraged cat.

He was skinny, oh-so skinny, the coat hanging off him and his ribs grotesquely jutting through the torn white shirt that had been slashed open. The once white coat had been stained grey and worn down in parts, the edge frayed and dripping from the sewer water, torn across his upper sleeves. His lower arms had once been clad in thick red rubber gloves, but now it was like the rubber had become his actual skin, jagged claws extending inches further than his fingers, sharp and deadly, the sleeves of his jacket hanging over his wrists instead of the usual rolled-up look the Medic's supported.

Obviously, after ten years, something down there had mutated him into . . . . whatever he had become now.

Unhurriedly, like a child and with a neutral expression, the Medic tilted his head, eyes staring unblinking at the injured Frenchman, taking every detail in. The suited man felt as if he was an opinionless experiment that the former doctor was leisurely dissecting with his eyes.

". . . . . .ss. . . ..ssssp. . . . .yyyyyy. . . . ."

The voice was rasped, croaked, unused for years upon dawdling year. The Frenchman swallowed, unsure of what to do next.

" . . . .M-Medic . . . .?"

Suddenly, rows of pearly pointed teeth were savagely bared, and a roar erupted from the smaller man, claws up and ready to tear flesh from bone.

" . . . Get out . . . of my sewer!"

Spy's mind went blank; all he could see was the empty, echoing tunnel ahead as he ran for dear life, desperately fleeing from whatever the genius doctor had turned into.

The grungy water splashed around his legs noisily as he ran and ran, his voice too scared to scream, his breathing echoing painfully, his pulse throbbing at his temples.

The splashing and yelling behind him told him the Sewer Medic was infuriated and chasing him relentlessly.

He only screamed once, and that was when two arms grabbed him around the waist, and they both fell to the ground, the altered doctor pinning him into the shallow water which came only a centimeter up the mask mans helpless face.

Pinned beneath the monster, Spy became deadly still, not wanting to enrage him, the Medic being still over him, lying fully on top of him, silent.

Slowly, the fanged mouth leant down, close to his preys head, and Spy clenched his eyes shut, truly scared.

The Medic took in a long breath, and Spy opened an eye hesitantly to look up at him.

Its eyes were watching carefully, fixed on the broken part of the navy mask, the Frenchman's blonde hair slightly revealed, matted with blood and gunk water.

" . . . .ss. . . . .p. . . . ." Came quietly from the creatures lips, and Spy could visibly see the fiends glowing eyes soften slightly, the glow fading a little, golden pupils almost noticeable.

Almost timidly, the pale face leant down further, seeming to inspect the gash upon Spy's forehead, before Medic made a noise, part way between a growl and a purr, a look of childish intrigue upon his shadowed features.

Spy was shaking without realizing, but stilled when he felt the arms wrapped around his midriff tighten, and the claws sink into his sides a little.

". . . .Msssd. . . . .youuu. . . . . Sssp. . . "

Looking up into the distorted Medics bullion eyes, Spy felt as if he was expected to say something in return, the doctor waiting for a response.

A sharp ear twitched when he didn't receive a response, but he persevered, and leant down further, faces an inch away, putting all his slim weight upon Spy, shuffling on him a little.

The Medic pushed their foreheads together, gold eyes watching Spy's.

And Spy was officially confused.

He had never seen this creature before, but he was acting like they were . . . .Friends . . . . Lovers.

The mask.

All Spies wear the same style mask; maybe he thought he was the other, old Spy, on his original team . . . . But he had retired, died, and Spy in had been in BLU for six years.

A twinge of guilt and pity descended upon the Frenchman. The Medic hadn't realized how long he had been down there, alone in the dark.

A gentle nuzzle came from the creature, accompanied with a purr.

Were the old RED, or even the BLU Spy and Medic . . . . together? No, impossible, Spy had heard the RED Heavy say on how he was a quiet man. . . .But so was the Spy, and secrets were easy to keep if you were the right person.

The tiniest of smiles appeared on the Germans lips, confused and awkward, but there, the sharp teeth evident and ivory. The Medic gave a tiny sniff, before his eyes drifted upwards, looking at the painful gash upon the cobalt Frenchman's forehead. He leant up, and tenderly licked at the blood, his soft tongue lapping at the wound soothingly, and Spy forced himself to stay as still as possible, not to react.

" . . . .M-Medic. . . ."

The creature pulled away, lifting his body weight off of the Spy, who then tentatively rolled over onto his back, looking up at the physician.

The golden eyes were watching him again, studying each twitch, breath and movement. Carefully, his weight was lowered onto the others torso again, eyes still watching him.

" . . . . .What happened to you . . .?" Spy spoke lowly, not wanting to anger o enrage the mutated man.

" . . . . .mein. . . . . Sssewerr . . . . .mein. . ." Came back quietly, before a sharp claw drifted upwards, skimming the tear in the mask, and Spy held his breath again, watching.

Gently and daringly, he took the clawed ones hips in his hands, keeping him still, watching as he fiddled with the edge of the mask with interest.

'He's like a child', replayed itself over and over in the BLUs brain, but he had to remember, Medic was only a young man when he arrived, and ten years in the dark was enough to drive anyone mad.

"Are you going kill me, Medic?" he couldn't help but ask. Even if he did die at the hands of the lonely slaughterer, he would just respawn. . . .But would he tell the others of his discovery? A killer loose under their very noses? It would destroy the teams, especially if he told of the Medics feelings and possible relationship with the former Spy.

A thick, rasped, breathy snarl hissed out. "N-Neiiiin."

"Ah, ah, in English. Let me understand you." He held the hips of the once human above him, keeping him still and hoping the request didn't earned him a torn apart throat and chest cavity.

" . . . . . .Nevahhhhgh. . . . . .Not you. . . .Sssp . . . ."

A flicker of sadness swept across the pale face, before he leant up and licked at the wound again, earning a quiet hiss.

" . . . .Ich bin. . . . Arzt. . . ." he rumbled, nursing the Spy.

Yes, he was a doctor, once. Spy wondered what really went on in the Germans mind, but kept quiet. The soft nuzzling and care contradicted the creature immensely. From what he had heard from his team before hand, the doctor healed sparingly and distractedly nearer towards his end. Was he making up for lost time, or was he still thinking Spy was. . . . him?

A bite distracted him from his thoughts, and he tilted his head away from the physician to see what the cause of the pain was. A small rat had bitten at his leg, chewing at his soggy trousers, and the Medic sensed it, jerking up sharply.

A predatory grin spread across the mutants face, eyes beginning to glow brightly again, and Spy watched in fear as the transformed doctor leapt for the rodent, catching it with ease, holding onto it tightly within his clawed grip.

Now without the man laid upon him, Spy sat up in the pipe, watching the man cradle the helpless mammal, mouth opening, as if about to bite into it.

Yellow eyes flicked up to meet Spy's, and the look of disgust was not hidden from the Frenchman's features. Is that how he lived? Eating the sewer rats?

Perhaps that's why Spy was stalked when he first entered, the Medic wanted to devour him until he realized who he was, or rather, who he looked like.

Medic looked down at the squirming rodent, before lowering his hands, watching as it leapt out and fled into the darkness with a look of loss on his highlighted face.

" . . . . Medic. . . . I . . . . I can't stay here."

Glowing eyes looked up at him in eerie silence.

" . . . but. . . .Sss. . . . .pyyyy. . . .." He crept forward, closer to the BLU, a soft noise passing his lips, like a whimper. " . . . . I vatched. . . I vaited. . . . .f-for you. . . "

" . . . What?"

The creature finally stood, turning his head to look down the endless pipe.

". . . .come. . . .vizh me, Ssspy. . . . . "

He then began padding through the water, and Spy stood, following him like a loyal underling to its dark master.

An opening.

The pipe had finished, leading out to the very outskirts of the base, and Spy ran out, soaked through into the blinding sun, laughing a little at the new found freedom.

Turning his head back, he saw the creature, quiet and still in the shadows, back inside the pipe. He obviously had no want to come out into the light.

"Medic . . . .Merci, for. . . .everyzhing."

The doctor stayed in silence, the light making his burning eyes glow less intensely, dark rings of sleep deprivation evident around them.

The golden orbs drifted down, then flicked to something to the side at the opening, a small container.

Cautiously, he crept over to it, and pried off the lid, looking in and sniffing, and Spy had the brief image of the monster with a raccoon's tail. The hamper contained food, and Spy peered in, curious. It was raw meat and a handful of fruit and vegetables, and appeared to be supplies from the RED base itself.

"Food . . . .? Does someone leave you things here?"

"Zzhe Heavvvyy. . . . .Hheee knows zhat I'm here."

"Heavy?"

The ebony-haired mutant nodded, sniffing at the animal protein, before looking up, behind the Spy, and a frown appeared.

Spy turned, and could effortlessly see the entire battlefield and surrounding areas of the bases, the opening of the pipes high on a hill, looking down.

The rogue jumped when he felt Medic closer to him, still in the shadows of the pipes.

"I can seeee. . . . .everyzzhiing. . . . . vhen you fight, I vatch . . . . .Ssspy. . . ."

So, he didn't think he was the old Spy? He genuinely was watching out for him?

The Frenchman didn't know whether to feel intruded upon or flattered.

In silence, they watched as the BLU Scout and Demoman walked across the battlefield, Spy's face lighting up with an eager grin, wanting to run and cling to them and both men could hear their words.

"'ey, didja hear about the frog?"

"Ours or theirs?"

"Ours, man, fell inta the sewer, the freakin' idiot."

"Aye, he was always a little on the stupid side, too dumb to be a Spy. Bloodthirsty enough, but not smart enough."

"But I mean, he ain't even come back yet, ya think somethin happen to him or somethin'?"

"Probably doin' what Spies do best and bein' a coward, running away. I 'ope he don't come back, laddie."

"Yeah, we'll probably do better without 'im, the sneaky French bastard."

The mutant looked up to Spy from the darkness. The smile in his eyes had disappeared, wetness replacing the light.

"They. . . .They don't even care that. . . .I'm gone, that I've been gone for hours. . . . They don't even want me on their team. . . "

". . . . . Stay."

"What?" The Frenchman turned to the quiet monster, bewildered.

"Sstay. . . .vizh me. . . .Spy. . . .bitte."

". . . .Medic, I don't think I can . . . ."

" I am . . . .doctor. . . .I can look after you . . . . .bitte, stay. . . . .I vaited for you. . . ."

Spy's eyebrows furrowed. The creature was still mostly human, and obviously cared for him a lot more than his alleged 'family' had. But living in the darkness? Would he even cope down there?

To his utter surprise, the doctor stood straight upright, and gingerly padded out of the opening, into broad daylight, standing next to the Spy, sensitive eyes squinting and sad, but determined and set upon the masked man.

" . . . . .Bitte. . . . .it'ss better down zzzhere. . . .mein sewer, vizh you. . . ."

Golden eyes watered slightly, the glow faded in the sunlight, making them a lot friendlier, a lot kinder.

" . . . . . . Vill you look after me?"

"M-More zhan anyzzzhing elssse I've ever had. . . ."

" . . . . I guess I have no choice then, do I?"

The mutation, compared to the Medics, was a lot quicker, but a lot more drastic.

It had only taken a matter of weeks, if not days in the darkness before he began to feel the effects of the radiation and who knows what else was down there.

First it was his eyes, before, a cold steel silver in colour, powerful, but they became even more powerful the day the mutation started, glowing an eerie sapphire in the darkness.

His finger nails elongated, not that he noticed – like the Medics, his gloves fused to his skin, nails inching longer and becoming hard as iron, just like his teeth, also like the Medics, sharp and unyielding, rows and rows, like a shark. He now understood why the Sewer Medics speech slurred – a mouth full of fangs is difficult to control.

Then it was his legs. They began burning and aching, the once Frenchman finding himself unable to walk one day, and being shushed to sleep by the mutant he had befriended. When he woke up, in a cold sweat, his lower limbs had transformed into slick, writhing tentacles, the similar mutant watching over him, nursing him back to health.

He didn't even question the transformation, his mind feeling the effects of the darkness. He was losing it. It made sense.

With no need for his mask anymore in the dark, he tore it apart, practice for his fresh claws and fangs, hiding nothing from his doctor.

He learnt the inner working of the sewers like the back of his clawed hand, knowing where the deeper pools of fresh water lay hidden for him to swim, along with areas to sleep in, and he learnt to survive as the physician had, feasting upon whatever rodents he could find when no food appeared within the container – the amount of which had doubled, which often made the Spy question if the RED Heavy was smarter than he looked.

Drifting in the darkness, he could sense the RED approach him from behind before his arms wrapped around his midriff, the claws sinking in, just like the first day they met.

A fanged mouth ghosted over a slowly elongating ear.

". . . . Come play, Ssspy. . . ."

And just like that, the mutant was gone, fleeing within the inner catacombs of the sewer with a light splashing noise, the BLU giving him a moment to run before chasing after him as fast as physically possible with all his fresh new limbs.

" . . . .I'm coming for you, mon docteur."

" . . . . Kommen und mich finden . . ."

They were close, better than family.

They had decided that the next person to fall within their sewer would be promptly devoured between the two of them, and they hoped it would be a Scout, whatever colour or team. Scouts ran fast and would provide entertainment.

And no one would believe a loud-mouth teenagers deluded tales of two bloodthirsty mutants living in the sewer.

Authors notes -

Except maybe Spy's new replacement, after hearing the stories the man would no doubt hear from the RED Heavy.

Well, I decided to do this on a whim as I've never seen any Sewer Medic fics or any really Tentaspy origin stories. This was rushed, is full of loopholes, and finished at about 1 in the morning, so yeah. Not my best, but might as well be here.