A/N: Hello readers. This is my first TF2 fanfic, I have SFM posters that work with this story over on my dA account so check them out if you want, I should have a link up to my account soon.

The sun was setting over the desert, barely illuminating four figures that stood on an outcropping overlooking the expanse and the small battlefield that was Tufort, home to eighteen mercenaries who worked for RED and BLU. The front figure, dressed as a Medic, grinned cruelly around his pipe, clenching his hands behind his back, "Finally, I vill repay him for denying me vat I vant and for taking my eye." He lifted one hand to touch below his left eye which was white with blindness and two parallel scars running through it. How he hated this reminder from his younger colleague, his grin falling as he thought about it.

The intimidating Russian grinned in glee at his boss's words, paying little attention to the final two members of their party, "We crush them into itty bitty pieces Ubel." He said to the Medic, Ubel glanced over his shoulder toward his Russian companion as his grin returned, madness glinting in his remaining eye behind his dark glasses.

"Yes Boris and ve vill make it slow so ve can hear zeir screams of pain." Ubel said, laughing, "Benoit!" He suddenly said, laughter cutting off abruptly. The third member of the party, looked up, tensing unnoticeably from where he stood beside the fourth member, "Go down there and find out all you can about Heinrich's little team." Benoit inclined his head, glancing once more at the fourth member, "Don't vorry about your son, he vill be fine … For now." Ubel said with a wicked laugh, "Now go."

Benoit understood the implied threat and gave his son a faint smile, "Be good Alan, I will be back before you know it." He said before leaving, vanishing into the darkness.

Alan frowned as he watched his father leave, though it was hard to tell where his eyes focused due to their all white colouring. He hated being separated from his Papa and he hated the Medic who stuck him with needles all the time. His lips pulled back into a feral snarl behind his mask as he began to play with the Ankh that hung around his neck, fingers tracing its shape over and over again. Hearing the muscled lump of blind loyalty shifting behind him Alan glanced back, shooting a glare at Boris and growling low in his throat in warning about getting too close.

Boris glared back, "Doktor, when can we get rid of puny Scout?" He asked, earning another, more vicious, growl from the white haired Alan, "He is annoying, like dog."

"But dogs bite mine friend. And zis vone has such a vicious bite, don't you leibling?" Ubel replied, moving his hand to pat Alan on the head only for the Scout to shy away with a glare. The mad Medic laughed again and reached further, grabbing Alan by his ponytail, "You are going to be a good dog and do as you are told, aren't you leibling?" He hissed, yanking on Alan's hair harshly.

"Y-Yes sir." Alan answered, flinching in pain from his now burning scalp, forcing down the desire to rip Ubel into bloody pieces for touching him. He hated being touched by anyone other than his father, since everyone else always brought pain.

Ubel smiled, "Good boy." He said as he pulled a syringe from his coat, the near florescent yellow liquid reflecting from his glasses, "Time for your medicine~" He chuckled before jabbing Alan in the neck, depressing the plunger and injecting the concoction into the Scout's body before Alan knew what had happened. Ubel stepped back as the boy curled up into a ball, clutching at his neck as whimpers escaped his throat. It was the same thing each time, but better than letting the boy die from his first concoction. Alan was the only leash he had for Benoit, one of the best Spies in existence that he could actually get his hands on and control. He looked back out toward the lights that came from Tufort, his wicked grin returning.
It will all be worth it in the end.