NUMBER ONE BLU SPY

Hallo! || Doctor Bonk, TF2/TC2 enthusiast ||🫀🪽

(he/any) | i draw and post sometimes and probably interact with rp blogs on main. if you see me with (-🫀🪽) for Bonk, i am most likely roleplaying!

Call me BLU Spy / Spy!

DNI PROSHIPPERS!! FUCK OFF!!

BONK TEAM

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💊🔵 — Doctor Bonk full body ref below cut!

Hello, Sir? What are you doing here?

[The nurse wipes his hands off on the front of his apron before offering it to the medic.]

I'm Yuri Akasaka. Who are you?

-( @bloodied-apron)

[The mysterious medic stares at the hand given to him. He looks intimidating by how his eyes scan the nurse's body, looking through him seeking for intentions that otherwise want him dead, yet seemed to mask hesitation. After a while of silent interrogation, he took the hand and shook it with some politeness.]

You don't need to know who I am, Junge. Though, if you must refer to me, call me Doctor Bonk. 

[His German accent reminiscent of Yuri's own Medic, Herbert Ludwig Humboldt, and perhaps the other Medic on the other team. They both had that same exact slicked hairstyle down to the stupid cowlick in the middle, same glasses, and perhaps an affinity for doves as one perched from a distance.]

[However, this one feels more... mellow. Reserved, perhaps. Not as palpably insane as the RED one, but perhaps manifests itself into the unsettling feeling weighing down on the shorter man's guts as Yuri looked at 'Doctor Bonk''s direction... if that's even his actual name at all.]

[Looking at him top to bottom, there were more things to notice about this doctor. He had a hat that swallowed half of his face into mere shadows, with only the glint of his glasses to show some sort of light. His coat was somewhat different from the typical coats Medics wear, his wrists and pockets full of medical supplies, his little bag of medicine, and his wings. Wings that shouldn't be plausible to exist. They looked like ones a dove would normally have, too. There are... so many questions to ask.]

Err, you must be zhe new class zhey hired, ja? Nurses, I heard. I didn't zhink Ludwig vould actually take somebody under his wing. Not zhe first time he's messed with others who practice medicine as he does.

[He muses to himself. The doctor rubs his chin in contemplation as he tries to remember what he knows of the nurses. He has seen this little RED Nurse a few times before they met, seeing him roam around with Ludwig. Though, the one he often saw a little more was the BLU one, who is... definitely something.]

[This might be an interesting conversation... if the nurse infront of him doesn't kill him first, of course.]

I don't have a team. 🙂

meet my son scout (i call him scout bastard/scunt) don't underestimate him he fucking scares me

Ahahahah . . . Perhaps you've been mistaken, mein freund.

I don't like him. Not in zhe way I'd call him a friend. He wouldn't. And some may say I love him. I don't. I really don't. I think of him like a duty. An obligation. He needs me to stay alive, I need him to learn more of medicine. Mutually beneficial, ja?

If he knew alternative options, he wouldn't be going to me, anyway.

He needs me.

A feeling of restlessness washes over the doctor.

Currently back at his hiding place, which just so happens to be his old building when he was still a Medic, Bonk looked down at his desk where a mess of papers scattered around him like a storm of thoughts. Here, there, that, this lead, that evidence . . .

He couldn't remember how long it has been since he came back to Teufort to find Johnny. He couldn't bear to leave him down here — if he was ever here at all in the first place. Perhaps if there was a sign of his existence anywhere else, it would comfort him atleast, because the uncertainty drained him dry of mercy. He had to be here somewhere, it had to.

As he sat there with his pen clicking anxiously, his mind wandered somewhere else.

He remembered his team. His BLU team.

He remembered Johnny, of course. His hase. He remembered when he cut his long hair. He remembered the smile he always got to see out of him. "Hey Doc, look at this!" "Hey Doc, look at that!" He was energetic, constantly up and running as all Scouts are. The doctor noticed that pattern. They always run, no matter what. Even when Johnny asked him if he could help change his appearance to be more of a man's, the doctor always supported it. He was his favorite.

Dmitri was one he remembered next. He was friends with him, you could maybe call them best friends. He was a good sport, of course. He was chill when Bonk was fiddling around with his organs for some medical knowledge he may not be able to aqquire anywhere else. He was grounded, and stable. It was a really rare sight to see, concerning the nature of their jobs, but it was comforting to some. He remembered their last conversation over the phone.

"Doktor. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure of that, mein friend. I need to. I have to. It's— It's the only way around."

" . . . Don't die, Doktor."

"I won't."

As more memories flooded back, his mind wandered to the other members.

Simply put, they hated him. They hated the doctor. Maybe except for Leaf, but that's because they are probably the most scariest out of the team aside from himself. Bonk didn't know exactly why, but by how they look at him, it wasn't necessarily out of pure malice, but out of fear. He wasn't the most stable member, if he were to be honest with himself. They saw him as unsettling, creepy, and sometimes downright insane, which wasn't too far off. He thought that ever since they weren't together anymore, they probably all felt some sort of relief out of it. Gott, they probably did. They all went to their own seperate lives, probably living somewhere else that wasn't in goddamn New Mexico.

Like Monty.

If there was anyone else who consumed his mind, it had to be him. Fuck, it had to be him, didn't it?

They barely talked during their days as coworkers. Sure, he healed him, patched him up, sometimes ubered him, but that's it. They were strictly on business, and he, like others, didn't like him personally. Then he moved to the Bahamas after retirement. He did kill a few people during a mental breakdown, and is definitely being chased by the government, but hey, that's nothing new.

He should have just been another faint memory. He would have.

Then Monty started to come to him every now and then. The reason? His liver. He was a drunkard who likes to drink all his problems away from what Bonk could gather. Monty didn't even like asking Bonk for help, he didn't let him heal his eye, so when the doctor saw him for the first time asking for a transplant, he was perplexed. Not that he'd deny him that, of course, the man was gonna die and he was either gonna die right there or beat him up into a pulp before he gets to.

So he visits. Walks all the way from Albuquerque to here just to get a transplant. Why Monty wouldn't go to detox instead is a mystery, but that's not to be questioned eitherway. Gives Bonk more reasons to kill people and harvest organs.

The German sat still on his desk, now with a completely different thinking in mind, as he reaches out to one of his drawers.

He grabs a rolled sheet of paper, and unfolds it. It's Monty's x-rays front and back. It was really well made, and he really needed it to learn more about anatomy indepth. He had all of the bones meticulously labelled, every inch, every crevices. He had to beg Monty for it, which he had to oblige. Who would deny the doctor the chance to know his medicine?

He stared at it for a long time. It was a calming sight for him, to look at this. It almost drowned out everything else.

Until a knock broke out the silence.

It wasn't a small one, either. It was hard, heavy. Aggressive. He wasn't expecting any guest today, who the hell is up and about on his damn building?

"What?"

He sat up from his chair cautiously, and walked towards the door. Before he could even put his hand on the handle, the figure outside already opened the door.

"Monty?"

The Scot was leaning against the frame, obviously drunk but not so. Probably the most sober he's seen the guy, and that's saying something concerning how he could never get his hands atleast one bottle a day.

"Need a new bloody liver," Monty grunted. He slowly started to move forward towards the doctor, who kept his distance.

"How zhe hell did you even get here? I thought you'd atleast care to tell me you're coming."

"Do I even care when my life is on the fecken' line?"

"Vell, it would be more convenient if you told me, Monty."

Bonk sighed. He took a glance at his desk, and realized the x-rays were still at the table. He quickly rushed to the table and shoved it somewhere before Monty could even look at him. Thankfully the bastard was too busy doing whatever else, so crisis averted right there. And then another crisis came afterwards, which is Monty himself, who decides to back him in a corner.

"You're taking too long, König," Monty grumbled under his breath, almost growling.

"Can't you just wait? I'm setting things up for you, did you expect me to read your mind before you came to mein building out of nowhere??"

"And what? Kill myself? Don't be fuckin' ridiculous."

"Atleast it would teach you not to drink your liver away—"

Before he could even continue, Monty's fist already found its way to his stomach, his breath and soul leaving his body and pain returned right after. Monty's hand crept into the other's neck and tightened his grip, choking him.

"Don't get bloody smart with me, Doc. Either get me another liver, or I'll blow yer brains out. And I do it real good. Y'hear me, lad?"

Bonk could only reluctantly spit out a few words, "Fine, fine!"

He lets go. The doctor was left against the wall gasping for air. It took a while until he finally got his marbles together, adjusting his collar before sighing to himself.

This is gonna be a very long night, isn't it?

- 🫀🪽