Work Text:
Ludwig looks at his phone, frowning at the missed messages. He sighs, knowing that his current boss was throwing a hissy fit over the missing organs that he was supposed to be watching over. In Ludwig’s defence, they were sitting there, ripe for the picking! Really, who wouldn’t snatch up organs that otherwise would go to waste.
He rolls out of bed, padding to his kitchen to start the coffee machine and hopefully wipe away some of his drowsiness. He reaches for the grounds before pausing and cursing loudly, remembering that he used the last of his coffee the day before and meant to pick up more. He had forgotten in his haste to get the organs into a safe place before they decomposed too much. Ugh.
Fine , he thinks, returning to his room and getting dressed. In all honesty, he couldn't care less about looking presentable, skipping the button down he normally wore for a bargain-bin t-shirt reading “DILF” in large letters and black chinos. He did wear his Oxfords, smiling fondly at the worn leather. Learning how to repair shoes was a bit time consuming, but it beat needing to find a cobbler; plus, the internet and local library made it a cinch to learn. Who said old dogs couldn’t learn new tricks?
The weather was supposed to be chilly today, meaning he tugged on his coat before picking up his bag and leaving the house.
Sometimes he despised the hustle and bustle of the city, the push and pull of bodies packed tightly together. Those days, he longed for a time long gone, of makeshift flamethrowers and busted shotguns and the ringing laughter of men with nothing to lose.
A lot changed in 50 years time; Ludwig had his medical licence back, for one, being careful to preserve it. He also acquired a multitude of other degrees from the stash of money being a medic during The Gravel Wars gave him. Actually, he was still getting paid, still on the payroll for the new company that Mann Co. became. Apparently the people giving out paychecks didn’t care who they were paying. It was a cosy little sum he received every month that covered the entirety of his bills, making working merely a hobby for him.
On a whim, he looked the company up; Olivia Mann was still kicking at 57, now running the brand under the name “Fortress Fall”. The company now worked mostly in explosives and defensive equipment, a combination Ludwig would not have thought would work out as well as it did.
The last link to his old life, he mused, tucking his phone back in his pocket. Of course, some of his former companions may have started families, but he knew they were long gone by now. There was no point in confusing their relatives about why a 30 or 40 year old man cared so much about it. In truth, he was pushing 90 right about now, but nobody needed to know that.
His preferred café was just around the corner from his flat, a charming little spot that made a wonderful place to sit and people watch for a few hours. The staff were nice and especially kind to him since he tipped generously. It was locally owned and the staff seemed to be treated and paid well, so he didn’t mind the higher priced goods.
“Good morning!” A barista said, smiling at Ludwig. They were staple of the morning shift on most days, blue hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Your regular, Joseph?”
“Yes,” he replies, minding his accent. 50 years practice had given him a convincing American accent and the awareness to tamp down on any German that wanted to come out. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to add a breakfast sandwich, please?”
“Of course! That’ll be 10 dollars and 87 cents, sir.” Ludwig hums and opens up Google Pay, gently tapping his phone against the device.
“Thank you,” Ludwig smiles, resisting the urge to say danke . He was Joseph right now, and Joseph was an average American. He blended into the crowd and drew no unwanted attention, just as Ludwig intended.
He sits near the window of the café, pulling out his laptop to at least get some work done. He would email his boss about the organs, assuring her that it must have been a misunderstanding and he had no idea where they could have gone. In truth, they were sitting in cryostasis, but nobody but Ludwig needed to know that part.
Sensing he’s being watched, he glances up from his work, spotting another customer staring at him. They look away quickly and he frowns, caught off guard by their eyes, a bluish greenish colour he could never quite pinpoint. Brown hair that seemed more like black in a low-hanging bun…
Ludwig mentally chides himself, tapping away on his laptop again. What a preposterous idea; he’s seen his fair share of lookalikes over the years, something that was inevitable. It wasn’t her.
Yet it felt so familiar—
“Joseph!” the blue-haired barista calls and he sighs in relief at the break in his thoughts, standing to collect his order.
The other customer is watching again, he can feel it. Normally he’d stay and enjoy his order but he just smiles and thanks blue-hair again, pushing out the door into the chill morning air. He’d catch the bus to the subway and get on then, arriving earlier than normal. That would probably appease his boss. Hopefully.
He eats his sandwich as he walks, tossing the paper into a bin as he rounds the corner to the bus stop. If he timed it right, he would only have to wait for a few minutes before it stopped here.
And if Ludwig were anyone else, he would have been happily oblivious to the world around him, sipping his coffee and scrolling aimlessly through his phone.
Unfortunately, Ludwig was not just anyone.
That’s why he notices someone standing awkwardly near the sign, doing a terrible job of pretending to scroll through a phone. It was almost funny, how they struggled to work the thing. They were lanky and seemed to stoop down to disguise their height, looking quite odd. They looked up, clearly staring at him even through their aviators. Ludwig, doing a much better job at spying, continues to lazily thumb through Reddit, watching the stranger from the corner of his eye.
It reminds him of someone, a sharpshooter with a steady hand and a terrible set of basic life skills.
But it isn’t him.
They step towards him but freeze as the bus finally arrives. Ludwig doesn’t give them another look, quickly paying for his fare and shuffling to an open seat— a small miracle, considering it was normally packed full.
The stranger doesn’t board and he allows himself some comfort in that, putting the weirdness of the morning behind. He rummages through his messenger bag, pulling out a book he’s been putting off reading, On the Origin of Time , which had piqued his interest. No time like the present.
He pops in his earbuds, drowning out the sounds of the moving vehicle and the various people crammed in it with instrumentals. He was rather enjoying the Elden Ring soundtrack.
It’s funny watching the people in his generation and younger cope with change. Ludwig’s worst fear was becoming one of those older people who hated anything technology related and spouted about the good old days; he much preferred it now, even with the way the world was run. He was always good at adapting to new situations and it was even easier with how gradual the shift was. New trends, new tech, new ways of living, it all came easy to him.
The bus lunges to a stop, the hiss of doors opening causing a stream of drowsy New Yorkers to dribble out the side. Ludwig packs up and joins them, beelining his way to the nearest subway entrance and tapping in before wiggling his way through the station and to his train. His music changed to a rather intense sounding track and he quietly huffs, thumbing through and picking another playlist.
Of course, his luck ran out, finding no open seats when he boards. He takes his place by a pole, not trusting himself to not drop his phone at the jarring shifts in speed and so stuffing it in his pocket.
The best part of the subway was seeing the people; the dogs creatively placed in bags, the bizarre outfits, and the strange activities people got up to. He saw a woman knitting a scarf at lightning speed, her face screwed up in concentration. A man cooed at his dog, a large German Shepherd hanging from a shopping bag with holes for its legs cut out. Across the train, a teenager had spilled her coffee and was understandably distraught at the loss of her beverage and caffeine for the morning.
Yet again he sensed himself being stared at, growing more and more annoyed at whatever being thought this was funny enough to be done three times. Ludwig decides to stare back this time, analysing the latest stalker.
A man with a baseball cap and headset— seriously, who was doing this — stared at him with wide eyes, clearly not anticipating being caught. Down to the dog tags . Ludwig raises an eyebrow and the man shrinks back, visibly swallowing before shyly waving.
Ludwig does not wave back.
For the duration of the train ride, he’s locked in a staring contest with the stranger. Luckily, Ludwig is well trained in the art of stare downs, easily winning whenever their eyes lock.
There were a couple of very good reasons that this man is not Scout, that the man he saw wasn’t Sniper, and that the customer wasn’t Miss Pauling. He goes through that mental checklist, finally tearing his eyes away from Not-Scout to observe a passenger assembling an entire sandwich.
One: Everyone was dead. He knew that, he’s visited their graves several times. Ludwig had brought Sniper back from the dead, but that was a lengthy and very expensive process, one he doubted could be replicated by a random doctor.
Two: They had appeared to be roughly the same age they were during the Gravel Wars, which directly conflicted with how Ludwig had watched some of them get older in real time. He had his theories about how the different machinery at Teufort and other bases kept them young, but they never reversed effects like this. Besides, all of that should’ve been destroyed by now, and he was careful to keep any blueprints in his sole possession.
Three: And if they were alive, why would they be in New York of all places? Maybe if this were New Mexico, but in New York City ?
He runs through his list several times, trying to quell his worries. It was just a big coincidence that he’d laugh about later.
The train stops, nearly flinging some of the passengers to the floor. He shoves through, quietly apologising to people as he steps in front and scrambles off the train, pulling his coat closer. He was just being paranoid.
But Not-Scout follows him off the train, doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn’t. Ludwig grits his teeth and sighs, manoeuvring through the subway until he reaches the surface, walking faster than before.
Not-Scout moves quickly behind him.
In a split-second decision, he veers off course, peeling off from his normal route towards his work. Ludwig enters a convenience store, ducking behind a row of display items.
The other man follows him in, looking around the store, searching . Quietly, Ludwig slips into the bathroom, nodding when he sees all the stalls are open.
“Doc?” Not-Scout says, nerves evident in his voice as he enters the bathroom. “Hey, uh, I know this is kinda weird, but you gotta stop running from us—”
“Who are you?” Ludwig says, crossing his arms.
“Scout, y’know?” The man says, chuckling awkwardly as he stares at the floor. “Miss Pauling really should be the one telling you this stuff but Snipes ‘n I had to run after you so, uh, yeah.”
Ludwig sighs. “Scout is dead.”
“See, that’s the thing, I’m not . Which is actually why we wanted to talk to you,” Not-Scout steps closer, looking far more reserved than Scout ever did, “you’re the doctor ‘n shit. Most of us just woke up like this ‘n it’s really freakin’ us all out.” His face falls, clutching at his arms. “We need help,” he says, softly, “like, a lot.”
He weighs his options here. If it was Scout, they had a massive problem, seeing as it looked like everyone else had also been revived in the same way. If it was a fake, Ludwig faced giving himself away and needing to assume an entire new identity, which was a hassle he didn’t want to deal with.
Sighing, he shakes his head. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Take me to Miss Pauling,” Ludwig nods, brushing past Scout to the door. “She’ll do a better job of explaining.”
“Oh, yeah!” Scout nods, smiling like when Medic had agreed to injecting Bonk! directly into his veins. “Follow me! Also, drop the American, yeah? Sounds weird on you.”
He blinks. “ Ja ,” he replies, stepping out of the way so Scout can go ahead.
Ludwig makes a quick call to his work to explain that a family emergency happened and he can’t come in today, which wasn’t a lie as much as it was a half-truth. Scout stared at his phone in awe the entire time, asking a million questions about the device once he finished.
They arrive at a large restaurant, Miss Pauling having paid for a private room according to Scout. It’s almost comforting, hearing Scout ramble on about useless things again, though he needs to constantly remind him to keep his voice down.
Scout does a complicated knock on a door once they’re inside, whispering “pineapple” lowly.
“Scout,” Engineer opens the door, “we said weren’t doin’ the code or knock.”
“You never let me have any fun!” Scout pouts, sulking inside.
Engie looks at Ludwig, seemingly appraising him. Ludwig does the same, noting how odd he looked without any of his gear. “Howdy.”
He nods, entering the room and hearing it lock behind him. All the mercenaries sit inside, looking like they just stole from a thrift store— they probably had, actually. Miss Pauling sat in the back, face grim. “Medic.”
“Miss Pauling,” he says, settling into the seat across from her. The chatter from the mercs wanes in favour of eavesdropping. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She snorts. “I think you know, considering where we are. You are an incredibly difficult man to track down, Medic.”
Ludwig stifles a laugh. “That’s the point, Pauling, though I think we should focus on the more pressing matter here.”
“You’re right,” she says, slumping down. “I have no idea what’s going on, though, and it’s terrifying— we’ve been awake for a few weeks now and I just managed to gather everyone. I have no idea if the Administrator is alive now, or Gray Mann, or, God Forbid , the Classics — it’s so much, and I just…”
He nods sympathetically. “It must be overwhelming.”
Miss Pauling puts her face in her hands, laughing dryly. “You have no idea, Medic. It’s been so stressful doing all of this, tracking everyone down and getting enough funds to do any of this.” She looks up at him. “I need your help figuring out why this happened.”
Ludwig hums, tapping his fingers on the table. “How?”
“ I don’t know !”
For the umpteenth time today, Ludwig considers the situation. Everyone from RED was revived in the same state they were in 50 years ago, Miss Pauling included. They had no idea if anyone else from Mann Co. was included in this sudden animation and it appeared everyone’s knowledge was cut off from the date they died, so technology would be a struggle.
It would be dangerous and foolish to agree to any of this, though Ludwig had never been one to be cautious about these things.
And, all along, there was only one way he could answer this.
“I’ll help you.”