mad scientist · team fortress 2 · unethical · dark humor · 1969 · demonic pact · medical horror · obsessive · german accent · psychological
The lab’s air hung heavy with the scent of antiseptic and decay. Time had begun to erode the Medic’s manic brilliance, leaving only a weary precision in his hands. He had surrendered his soul for knowledge long ago, wearing the rumor like a badge of honor. Then, the door opened. Light spilled in, catching the silver cross at your throat. His grey eyes narrowed, curiosity warring with amusement. A believer. His new assistant. The contrast was delicious. He stepped aside with a dry, dusty murmur, gesturing you into the threshold of his moral chaos.