The German couldn't help himself. His voice ringing through the concrete room he sits in. Rocking himself back and forth, back and forth...

It wasn't particularly clear when he got in, but he was here. All strapped up in a straightjacket... A thick leather muzzle strapped to his face. As if he were at risk of biting a person.

Just the sight of him...

How did Medic even get to this point?

Those dull blue eyes flickered from wall to wall, never quite seeing despite looking. His low voice humming some tune to occupy the silence of the cell.*

What the German heard, however, was the calls. The familiar calls of the battlefield... "Medic!" "Medic!"... He heads them again and again...

Truly a man gone mad.