A BLU Medic

The Heavy, for his part, charges through and spins up his minigun. The Scout won't survive for long!

From:

Someone should tell the Scout that.

He's moving fast, double jumping and dodging amongst the rocks with his scattergun out.

"Hey, fattie! Where's your sandwich? BONK!" The last is accompanied by the roar of his gun as he fires it.

From:

"Leetle man, meet big gun! Saving sandvich for vorzy opponent!"

The Heavy can't exactly dodge, but he can soak up the fire like a sponge as he fires back at the Scout with Sasha.

From:

Scout can definitely not take that much damage, but he knows if he can stay close the Heavy can't turn fast enough to keep up with him. If he's lucky, he can still take the big guy down with the Scattergun.

"Come on, man! I'm runnin' circles around ya!"

From:

"Not for long!" the Heavy insists, knowing full well that he's fighting a losing battle.

And even though they won't come fast enough... "MEDIIIIIIIIC!"

From:

Well, he may not get there fast enough, but the Medic's been practicing with his blutsauger lately. If he times the weapon's arc properly at least some of the syringes should impact that verdammt Scout and give him a hard time.

From:

"Whoa!" Yipes the Scout as the syringes hit him, stumbling. Between the needles and the bullets, he isn't feeling too hot here. Also, his Scattergun just went empty.

"Get lost, Doc! Ain't no one asked you to join this party," Scout snaps, dodging behind the Heavy's bulk.

Of course, he's still trying to beat the man's skull in with the bat he just pulled out.

From:

Luckily, the Heavy packed his shotgun instead of his sandvich today, because he just ran out of bullets for his minigun.

He can't find it, though, and he's got to produce a weapon fast. Otherwise, he'll be toast before you can even say 'Kremlin.'

Hopefully his dusty old pair of boxing gloves will do just as well as anything else.

From:

The Medic, for his part, is concentrating on that Scout. "Hold still, Schweinhund, this will only sting for a moment," he mutters. It's not as if the syringes will hurt his teammate, after all.

From:

It's a reflex! Someone's tryin' to shoot ya, ya gotta get behind the biggest thing around. Right now, that's fatty here.

Seriously, though, man, note to self: reload before taking on a frickin' Heavy.

"Ooo, pair of gloves, real scary! Got a little froofy dress in your pocket, too, tubs-o-fun?"

Scout talks big, but he isn't going to last much longer. Two against one, man, totally unfair.

From:

"Yes! Vill fit perfectly on leetle man like you! Vould you like to see it?"

Heavy's had some practice against the Scouts, it's true. One false move, and it's sayonara to his face. For now, though, the Heavy's just dealing a volley of punches, which are... less than accurate.

From:

If the Heavy's taking action, Medic might as well just switch off. The blutsauger is going away and the medigun is coming out. It's what he's here for, after all.

And don't think he's not keeping an eye on that ubercharge meter, either.

From:

Aw crap, man. Tell him he can least take the Heavy out with him? Before the Medic heals him too much?

"Just die already, man!" Scout shrieks as bludgeons as fast as humanly possible.

From:

Which is pretty fast--so fast that even the medigun can't be much help without an uber.

The Heavy fights valiantly against death and the Scout, but eventually even that doesn't do much good, and he falls to the ground in almost slow motion, gurgling and screaming "NOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

From:

Oh, that's just not a good thing.

... for the Scout. Because Medic? A, is pretty fast- not as fast as the Scout, but pretty fast- and B, has his Ubersaw out.

"Prepare for your examination," he says before lunging at the RED, saw first.

From: