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“I’ll keep you to that. Know that if you break your word and try to bring me down with you should you be discovered, I won’t be pleased with your broken promise.” He let out a short huff, watching the man organize is tools. Always so busy with his hands, Matthieu wondered if it was because of some sort of nervous energy in the Medic.

“So we’re scheduling our hunt, drops and harvesting. The snatching I’m guessing will be up to me unless you plan to hire others?” Nothing he couldn’t handle, but it certainly made things more interesting. 

“And what about the scarring? Wouldn’t the scars alert those against our interests that the trade has started again? Unless you’ve found a way around the glitch.” He rolled his shoulders, watching the Medic. Any new scars would be led back to Fish since he was the last known person involved in the organ trade.

Fish answered quickly, opening the door to beckon Matthieu inside. He closed the door smoothly, smoothly sliding over to his work table to began rearranging his tools, always keeping his hands busy. An autoclave hissed and roared in the corner, constant noise to make sure no one was eavesdropping on them.

“We can begin harvesting again soon. No one’s watching, everyone’s concerned about something else. But, we’re going to change how it’s done.” He looked Matthieu in the eye.

“You and I are the only people who know I’m running this. I will not interact directly with anyone. It’s either through you or through notes and phone calls. We will arrange dates and times to snatch people, and bodies will be left at decided locations instead of handed off to the people harvesting. Organs, similarly, will also be left at drop off locations to be picked up and shipped out later. No direct interaction, no one knows who’s running this business or who’s involved, meaning if one person goes down, it’s on their head and their head alone.”

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There's a note shoved under Matthieu's door once he gets back to his room. "Meet with me in person, we need to talk. Make sure you're not followed."

Matthieu read the note over twice before burning it with his lighter, going to have a quick smoke afterwards. Once he was certain that no one’s paying attention to him and no one was on his tail, the taller man went to Fish’s infirmary, no other place was indicated on the note. 

He knocked once, keeping an eye for anyone else around. There was no scent of the nice cigarettes many of the Spies liked, no sound of cloaked feet or breathing. Just him and the closed door.

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Deceptive, intellectual, ruthless.

Describe my muse in three words. I can only publish, not respond.

[canadian-strongarm-blog]

Big McLargeHuge.

Describe my muse in three words. I can only publish, not respond.

[canadian-strongarm-blog]

Describe my muse in three words. I can only publish, not respond.

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Honestly, losing another limb was not something he was keen on doing so he went along with letting the Medic do what he needed to. He was just glad to have the medicine in his system, already starting to feel the antivenin's effects, though it wasn’t likely to be instant.

Every movement the Medic makes to take off his boot hurts. He’s going to be wearing taller boots from now on, that’s for sure. They didn’t have rattlesnakes where he was from, but it’s not a mistake he’s going to make again.

“How soon until the pain stops?”

Ah-ha! There we go. Yanking the bottle from the cabinet, Karl wastes no time siezing an empty syringe and filling it with the medicine. Prepping the instrument to make sure it was free of air bubbles, he gives the injection quickly. “I’m going to remove zhis cloth, as vell as your shoes. Blut flow is important unless you vant to lose your leg. Just try und keep still vhile zhe antivenom starts to vork.”

So explaining, he sets to work, gently but firmly holding his leg still with one hand while removing the cloth and the boot with the other.

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The large Canadian did as he was told, following the Medic without question. He’d considered going to Fish, but this was a much better option. The little French Medic would have likely twisted this into something to get the upper hand over the Heavy.

Matthieu sat, putting the dead snake on a nearby counter, rolling up his pant leg. The tightly tied cloth was still in place above the bite, two oozing puncture wounds, the blood congealed. His leg throbbed and he clenched his teeth tighter and waited for the Medic to do something.

“Come wizh mich. Quickly. Don’t argue.”

He knew some Heavies could be ridiculously stubborn. He thought of telling him to ditch the snake- wasn’t fond of having dead animals laying around. But frankly, getting the Heavy an antivenom was his current priority, and while he was certain he knew what he was dealing with, Karl supposed having a handy specimen couldn’t hurt.

His Medbay wasn’t far off, thankfully. Once there, he’d nod to the larger man to have a seat.

“Try not to move any more zhan you already haff.” Fingers nimble and clever, Karl quickly begins to sift through the medicine stores. Rattlesnake antivenom… it had to be in here someplace.

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“..Oui.. Yes.” English. That was the English word. The Heavy was feeling groggy, but he kept himself upright, holding up the snake.

“Shaky snake bit my ankle.” He grit his teeth, the pain spreading up his leg. He’d tied it off with some cloth, but he’d had to walk back to base too and the poison was spreading anyway.

“…herr Heavy? Did zhat snake… bite you?” He was fairly certain it had. If so, the fellow needed medical attention immediately if not sooner, unless he was the type to enjoy a long, painful trip to Respawn.

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He’s been keeping low for a couple of days, doing his job, making his meals, doing some hunting. Today has found something strange with him though.

Today, he’s walking like he’s a little drunk, with a bit of a limp, carrying a frankly huge rattlesnake by its throat, the creature dead in his hand.

In all honesty, he probably needed to find a Medic.

[canadian-strongarm-blog]

What’s one headcanon you have about my muse?

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“Suit yourself.” 

He strapped his hunting knife and sheath around his hips once he was dressed, heading out the door. He didn’t miss that the Medic still had his shirt, but it was of little worth. He had other shirts. Fish called it a trophy, but it had the Heavy’s essence on it. To him, it was no different from the bite marks he left Fish’s skin.

"Good morning, hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt.."

“It looks like a dress on you.” The Heavy pointed out, assessing any new scratches and bruises he may have earned from the previous night. “Didn’t think you you were the kind to stay until morning, much less pillage my clothing.”

He stood to pull his underwear on. “Unless you wanted something from me.”

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“Plenty.” Matthieu snorted, getting dressed. “Namely breakfast.”

He was a big man, he needed his morning calories. He planned to work on honing his delicacy with his arm today, as he often did with his days off. His prosthetic was fine and good for most things, but his rifle skills had suffered, the Heavy often struggling to keep the artificial arm steady when firing.

"Good morning, hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt.."

“It looks like a dress on you.” The Heavy pointed out, assessing any new scratches and bruises he may have earned from the previous night. “Didn’t think you you were the kind to stay until morning, much less pillage my clothing.”

He stood to pull his underwear on. “Unless you wanted something from me.”

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It took Matthieu a little while for his brain to process English in the mornings. It was still his second language and he wasn’t particularly fond of it. He was good at many things but languages weren’t his forte. Still, he switched to English to avoid an awkward half English, half French conversation.

“Then you’re going to be very bored because I’m not staying here all day.” He had better things to do than entertain the bratty little Medic.

"Good morning, hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt.."

“It looks like a dress on you.” The Heavy pointed out, assessing any new scratches and bruises he may have earned from the previous night. “Didn’t think you you were the kind to stay until morning, much less pillage my clothing.”

He stood to pull his underwear on. “Unless you wanted something from me.”

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"Good morning, hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt.."

“It looks like a dress on you.” The Heavy pointed out, assessing any new scratches and bruises he may have earned from the previous night. “Didn’t think you you were the kind to stay until morning, much less pillage my clothing.”

He stood to pull his underwear on. “Unless you wanted something from me.”

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The Morning After Sentence Starters

"Get out, get out, get out, get out!"

"Do you remember anything from last night?"

"Why are you in my bed?"

"I'd offer you breakfast, but I think I'm too sore to move."

"So.. Was it good?"

"Who topped?"

"I thought you'd be gone by the time I woke up..."

"I should go."

"This didn't mean anything."

"We shouldn't have done this..."

"Of course I'm freaking out! You're my friend!"

"I'm guessing this was a one time thing?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know how this goes. I'll grab my clothes and get out of here."

"Good morning, hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt.."

"I made you coffee, did you want some Aspirin?"

"This stays between us."

"Congratulations. You actually convinced me to sleep with you."

"Are you sneaking out on me?"

"So, how much for last night?"

"Holy shit! she's on her way over here right now, she/he CANNOT see you!"

"Don't answer it!"

"Do you have any idea how wrong this was?"

"We're cheaters. We're horrible people. Oh god my mother would be so ashamed of me right now."

"..Do you wanna do this again sometime, maybe?"

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PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ARE 18+

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If you are a TF2 HEAVY RP’er, and want to go on a list of them, please reblog this post, after you’re done killing everything.

In the tags, or in a comment, please say if you’re a RED, BLU, NO SET/DIFF. Team, or a MULTI-MUSE. (multi-muse overrides color but you can put both if you want.  Team pride and all that.)

Also note if your muse is a FEMMERC, NOT FULLY HUMAN, or BOTH.

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