Blood roared in his ears as Misha’s new heart pumped rapidly in his chest. Someone was laughing ferociously over the sound of his gun. It took the Russian a moment to realise it was him. He didn’t flinch as a rocket sped towards him, and he didn’t falter when it struck his chest and exploded in his face. 

His muscles were strong. Stronger than they’d ever been. His heart too. 

And with a pop--it ended.

As the ubercharge faded, Misha knew what was coming. Every time his heart sped like this, he only had a few moments of fight or flight before he felt the symptoms. Tight chest, shortness of breath, an ache in his jaw. 

‘His heart is just too small for his body’, the doctors had told his mother, ‘there’s nothing to be done’.

But it never came. 

Misha was left with a hand on his chest staring out into what used to be BLU territory, and what was now empty. He could hear the cheers of his teammates as they rushed forward to seize the land.

He could hear Medic behind him.

The Russian spun around to face the doctor, trying not to lose balance atop the pile of bodies they had collectively accumulated and gripping Sasha tightly in one hand.

“Doktor... that was--” English wouldn’t do it justice. He felt like he’d been half asleep his whole life and only now awoken. All he could do was grin and laugh and try with all his might not to grab the doctor off the ground and shake him with joy.

;-)

((It’s my boi))