Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't.

Cheers.

P.S.: Norway? Australia? Netherlands? Russia? I love having readers from all over the world. This is fantastic! Thank you for having a gander.

P.P.S.: I'll get you to read one day, France..

P.P.P.S.: A little shocked by the chapter content? Red and Blu are not just colors.

"You may feel a slight burning sensation.." warned the Medic.

Blu base. Infirmary. Six O'clock P.M.

The area was rather empty, its double doors currently locked with a red light glowing over the top. For the moment it was a restricted area, a place of sterilized solitude shared only by the head Medic and his current patient, a Blu Pyro.

Perhaps patient was the wrong word. Patient would imply the need for care. It would imply injury in need of repair - clearly that was not what was happening here..

The man had been stripped from the waist up, his uniform pooled around his hips as he sat grudgingly on one of the medical cots. The option of laying down had been offered to him, though he preferred a more dominant and upright position if he was going to be subjected to anything with a likelihood of pain. To his side, the Swiss Medic was rubbing oil over his right arm with a sponge. Flexing his fingers, he wound the liquid substance across his palm and between his digits. If he was going to be tested, he might as well do a thorough job of it.

It was certainly an odd thing to witness as the Medic stepped away to pick up a long-nosed lighter and snapped the flame to life. The Pyro didn't even move, his sunken blue eyes staring into the flickering light as it was brought nearer. He didn't even wait for the Medic to come close enough, reaching actively toward the lighter and dancing his fingertips through the fire which quickly tasted and then raced across the oil coating his scarred flesh.

How beautiful..

He stared at his arm, seeing the flames lick and flow at a slow, syrupy pace as they followed the paths of those old scorch marks stretching from wrist to shoulder and then engulfed the entire limb up to the bicep. In actuality it had taken only a moment, but to him.. To him it was a full-length feature.

"Vhell.." the Medic commented, observing the spectacle with a neutral expression, "Can you feel eet?"

"Ja, zhe flesh is burning.." said the Pyro though he did nothing about it.

The Medic sneered, grabbing a flame-resistant blanket and quickly smothering the Pyro's arm until only thin trails of smoke escaped from beneath it, "Vhe vhill amend de formula und raise your dosages."

Watching the Medic walk off to his medical cabinet, the Pyro shuffled the blanket down from his arm. He tilted his head at the charred, smoke-laden flesh as though disappointed that the fire had gone..

It was not the first time the two of them had done this - the deep pock marks and stretched flesh on various parts of his young body stood testament to that. The plan, initially, had been to develop a chemical capable of strengthening the skin in the same way as a Medigun without actually using one. In a sense, it would be a pocket-sized Übercharge. A natural resistance to shrapnel, lower-grade bullets, and, most of all, to fire.

"Perhaps if you vhould schtop playing vhizh fish, vhe vhould heff zhe drug by now, ja?" the Pyro offered snidely, receiving only a dismissive shrug from the head Medic as he came back to clean up the burns with alcohol and then use the Medigun to erase the more severe damage.

"Patience, Herr Pyro.. Zhere is importance in all dat vhe do.."

The Pyro stared evenly into the man's pale eyes, a look of painfully obvious doubt on his gaunt face. As far as he was concerned, the Tentaspy and any efforts to build on his design were an utter waste of time and resources even while the abomination was still in their custody. It would be more efficient to focus solely on improving their current fighters rather than trying to create new ones from scratch. But he wasn't one of the Medics - his expertise was limited to his line of work, to fire. He also kept a second job, caretaker of any Red prisoners who managed to go unscathed by the Blu Medics and their mad experiments. That expertise was some of his finest work - torture.

It was because of this that his insubordination and disrespect were tolerated by the senior staff.

Despite his youth, the Pyro had a special gift for breaking the spirits of anyone he wanted with the grace of a Spy and the insanity of a Blu Medic. A special fire burned in his heart every time fresh meat was brought to the base and often times, if the rest of the Blus did not provide quickly enough, he would pluck a Red from the field for his own devices.

The light above the infirmary doors shifted to green as they swept open and granted the Pyro access.

Leaving the Medic behind, he shrugged his suit up over his shoulders and reached to zip it properly. He stalked right past the green-eyed Spy, ignoring him entirely as the man continued leaning against the corridor wall and smoked a cigarette. He acted nonchalant, turning his head subtly after the Pyro and watching him go. It wasn't until the man had disappeared from view that he casually pushed off from the wall and plucked his cigarette from his lips to blow a bit of smoke and crush it under his heel.

He'd learned much in the days since his arrival, most of it surrounding the politics of the Medics and the general body language of the Blu team. Stay cool, stay calm and, most of all, stay disassociated with everyone. Every man had his own cliques, of course, but no one seemed openly friendly or helpful where it wasn't required.

As he strode up the hall at a relaxed pace, the disguised Red stole a glance at the wall clock. Mm.. Max would be expecting him.

Max, or rather Maximillien as he had come to learn, was his pseudo lover and gossip source. He seemed to know everything about everyone ranging from current work assignments down to favorite colors. He had all of the senior members pinned to a T, the newer Blus merely a work in progress that kept him busy in between his real job and the short catnaps he called sleep.

In no time flat he stood before the man's door, hand lifted to knock when suddenly it swung inward and the man inside reached out to grab him by his tie.

The door shut with force, the card reader off to the side of it flickering to red as the automatic lock engaged.

Grabbing the Blu by his arm, the disguised Red thrust him up against the closed door and jammed his shoulder into his chest to wind him. The Blu Spy grinned devilishly and wrapped his arms around the green-eyed man, wasting no time in pulling tighter on his tie to the point where it nearly choked him as they fell together and began making out. The Red had become used to this sort of treatment, having fallen into a usual schedule with this particular Spy. At least once a day they came together to unwind - sometimes dirty talking, sometimes a bit more..

He grabbed the Blu by his waist, more or less sweeping him off his feet and knocking him down onto the bed where he proceeded to follow and straddle him. They kissed and released one another several times, ties loosened and suit jackets falling open as if the buttons weren't even there anymore. They both had the skilled hands of thieves, their dexterity allowing them to shut their eyes and proceed blindly. Wandering from the Blu's mouth, the Red Spy sent a trail of soft kisses down his jaw line and over his throat which he offered willingly.

Slipping an index finger beneath the man's mask, he tauntingly lifted it and licked the pale and forbidden flesh beneath. He then sent an aroused flush to the Blu's cheeks as he closed his lips over the man's Adam's apple and suckled gently at it before moving lower to give his collar bone a similar treatment. Growling with pleasure, the Blu shoved him off to one side and quickly crawled on top of him in order to push aside his shirt and nip at his right nipple. It stiffened in response and spurred the Blu to continue until both of them were red-faced with lust and exchanging glances of carnal desire.

What happened in the hours to follow was predictable of course, and it wasn't until they'd finished that any words passed between them.

They passed a cigarette back and forth, laying side by side in the Blu's bed as the Red Spy gnawed gently at the man's earlobe, "How long do you think we'll be able to do this before the Reds break up our fun time?"

The Blu chuckled, turning his head to nuzzle the half-clothed man beside him. He'd regained his shirt and waistcoat (unbuttoned), but not much else for the time being. "I don't know.. Maybe we can make up for eet on zhe field?" He exhaled warmly across the ridge of the Red's brow, pressing the shared cigarette against his pursed lips and letting him take it. "A quiet shack perhaps? A leetle romantic spot een zhe forest?"

"No one would miss us," the Red agreed, grinning past the cigarette as he took a pleasant drag from it.

In the lower levels of the base, things were not moving as smoothly for the other Red infiltrator..

Stripped of his helmet and goggles, he sat confined to a small holding cell without windows or so much as a bed to sleep on without a single shred of mystery to label him as the Spy he was.

He'd been discovered just the other day in a most embarrassing fashion while pretending to construct the Tentaspy tank which would be housed in the large laboratory just down the hall from the little hole in the wall in which he was seated. A few other Engineers were there to help, some of them seeming to know what to do though clearly he was to be their main instructor.

Silent command after vague silent command - the men had begun to look suspicious..

He could feel fear creeping up his spine, the calculated and intelligent looks of the Blu Engineers completely dominating his limited technical expertise. They began to quiz him, asking trivial things at first. 'Where does this go?' 'Can you give me a hand with this?' After that, the questions became more direct and technical, leaving him staring when asked if the 'electronic pulse filter had been installed yet'. He'd said yes - they'd said there was no such thing and immediately he realized his mistake.

Despite his best hand-to hand techniques, the men were able to overpower him. He could still feel the ache of a pipe wrench blow to the side of his head, his vision clouded with disorientation even after having ample time to recover in the solitude of his cell. No Medic came to check on him, no one came to bring by provisions. His mouth felt horribly parched, spittle refusing to form no matter how many times he coughed and rolled his tongue against the back of his throat.

He'd been left to die here, he realized, eyes unfocused on the heavy iron door that separated him from the halls he had once walked with liberty.

Far below the active half of the base, he knew his partner would never find him..