A note from the author:
Hello! If you're here, you either came upon this by chance, looked up stuff about tentaspy and found this thing, or, you searched up crap author in the dictionary and found this. Thanks for reading/tolerating/liking/commenting/worshipping my story/stories!
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The little creature opened its eyes. He blinked them slowly, rubbing his eyes absently with a tiny, little hand. He slowly extended his small tentacles- all of them- exploring the small space in which the strange man had left him in. His mouth curled in a small grimace, showing tiny sharp teeth as he growled lightly. The little tentacle-man had no way out. He floated about the jar, feeling around with his teeth, tentacles, and little hands, each tiny claw curved slightly, reaching about the glass jar. He slowly realized he could spin upside down like a bat while in water, so for a time he amused himself with mini twirls and spins in his limited home. Not long after he grew tired, he heard something. Slow, precise footsteps approached the door down the old stairwell. The mysterious man had returned, and unhappily. There were rips in his coat, and he was muttering under his breath in foul German. The infant pressed himself against the glass, his human body ending between his hips and waist, and the tentacles he used as locomotion were outstretched, floating lazily with almost a mind of their own. His small and chubby hands felt around the inside of the jar, looking up at the top with the holes popped in it.
"Now, leetle abomination of mine," cooed the Medic, not cruelly, but only factual in his mind,
"Your 'Papa's DNA was mixed smoothly unlike some unfortunate... 'Siblings' of yours." The Medic grimaced at his failure, but then looked back at the small creature.
"An octopus and a man, surely, zis will be ze ultimate war machine! Ze REDs shall not see it coming, da?" The man grinned at the successful DNA recombinant.
"Und now," said the grinning man, his smile slowly becoming something else, "I need to discover why you worked, and not ze others. You are not a man, and one will become many, so one child eez not worth hundreds of warriors!" The medic chuckled under his breath, and took out a syringe.
"Zis will not a hurt a bit. Eet will hurt a lot."
The mutant blacked out.
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Groggily, with his eyes blurry, the creature awoke on a tray, its little limbs, each and every one, tied down to the cold metal with a little leather strap.
"Dummkopf, you were not supposed to awake yet!" The medic chuckled lightly, blood staining his shirt and face. "Go back to sleep, little demon."
The tiny creature looked down at its chest as a syringe went into his arm.
His chest was torn wide open.
Darkness.
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The infant awoke, slowly and groggily, back in water. Cold, the creature curled up gently in the water, writhing tentacles wrapped around itself. The hole that had been in it's chest had disappeared, covered by a bandage, its body now wrapped in a blue, or, more truthfully, a BLU's shirt. Accurately, the Medic had stolen the current BLU sniper's shirt, which smelled like the heavy tobacco and coffee issued to the Snipers. The distinct smell issued into the young mutant's nose, and he cuddled to the newly "cleaned" shirt. The medic smiled with a dim and detached look in his eyes.
"Goodnight, kleine Dämon." The medic turned and walked back to the metal door he had entered through, and walked upstairs, his boots hitting each stone stair heavily.
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Medic walked up the stairs into the main area of the base around 10:00 at night. A good time to go out with Demoman, Heavy, and the Engineer for a drink. He smiled a little, and put on the glasses that covered his eyes enough to hide the red irises, resulting from experimenting on himself a decade ago. He was a failure, but the little creature he had created would live a progress-filled life, even if Medic might cut it short with a brain dissection. Sadly, he could not bring the little abomination back from the dead, just as he could not bring back his wife. He pulled off his dirty, bloody lab coat, and changed into more casual attire. It was time to drink his worries away.
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Medic leapt into the side of the truck with his teammates. The sniper, it seemed, had decided to tag along that night, murmuring something about, "spook stealing his shirt again". Medic looked away to hide a sly grin, pulling his tan trenchcoat higher on his body. The sniper shook his head, putting a cigarette, the same smell on the shirt, the kind of cigarette issued to only the Sniper class. Soon enough the Engineer, fondly referred to as, "Truckie", adressed all four other men.
"Alright boys, its been a hard weeks work." "Oh right. It's Friday," grumbled Medic. A few surprised heads turned and he waved them off. "Zere is a lot of paperwork during ze weekends for a man of medicine." A few smiles and chuckles after, Engineer began again.
"Now I know that we all wanna kick back, relax, and have a beer or twenty, but don't go too overboard, okay? And Heavy, ya can't carry everybody, so don't even try. Alright?" The man had been about to speak, but very slowly he lowered his hand. "Da, Engineer. Even Heavy Weapons Guy cannot carry so many leetle men."
The Engineer grinned. "Lets get rollin', boys!"
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END OF PART ONE
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