Chapter 1
He arrived a day early, so that nobody would see his face.
The man pulled his flat cap lower and kept his head down, making for the entrance like a bat out of hell. He still had not deduced how the mysterious company, known only as TF industries, had found him. He had been, after all, in hiding for the past year. Needless to say, after running into a bit trouble with the law, the man had been rather anxious when a shady representative from the Reliable Excavation and Demolition Corporation had somehow tracked him down.
The representative was been vague at best. He simply explained that his boss, who was also the CEO of RED, was hiring mercenaries to assist in his companies 'demolition operations, among other things.' They initially offered him money, which he had turned down. Then they offered him safety – and a new identity. In fact, the representative had said not even the team he was to be assigned to would need to know anything about him, not even his real name. He would be given a codename, as would his team mates, and all nine men would be advised against getting too friendly, with strict restrictions against sharing too much personal information. "To keep things professional" the representative had said. The man in hiding had remained resistive. What sealed the deal, however, was that the other mercenaries would not even have to see his face. His codename was "The Pyro" and he was allowed, and even encouraged, to wear his gas mask at all times – even during ceasefires. He would not be required to remove it at any time.
And so he had arrived a day early, so that nobody would see his face. The representative informed him that his new uniform and weapon would be waiting for him on base. New weapon? Pyro looked down at his bulking duffle bag. Not necessary.
The 2Fort was not exactly how he had imagined it. It was an old fashioned building, contrasting with the modern ideals of his new employer and it looked rather ill-prepared for war. He gazed up at it from the long wooden bridge which faced the entrance, squinting in the dying sun. He had to be sure to abstain from burning this place the ground too.
Once inside he found a welcoming letter, scrawled in neat, black ink which read;
Dearest mercenaries,
Warmest welcome to your new home, and congratulations – you have made the right decision by joining us here at the Reliable Excavation and Demolition corporation. Supplied here alongside this letter you will find all that you require to live comfortably while stationed here. Any other supplies you may need can be requested for on a weekly bases through my assistant, who will make contact with you shortly. Beside this letter are ten keys, all of which you will see are numbered. Room key 10 is the infirmary and is to remain in the possession of the Medic at all times. The others are your living quarters, each room is identical so as to avoid any feelings of inequality.
Enjoy your stay.
The Administrator
How chummy, thought Pyro. He looked down on the oak table. There was indeed a line of numbered keys, neatly displayed side by side like little soldiers. He picked up the one number '1' and made his way down the hall with his heavy bag. After dropping his belongings on his bed he left to wander and explore. There were cameras in every hallway, black and hanging from the ceiling like bats, watching the bases every interaction carefully. Pyro felt himself shrinking under those eerie lenses and he tucked his chin into his chest. When he found the supply room, he immediately spotted his home warming present.
The red flame-retardant suit and black gas mask fit perfectly and left everything to the imagination, and he stood admiring his reflection in the mirror on one of the lockers. Not a spot of flesh could be seen. Perfect.
He looked at the shiny new flamethrower curiously. It certainly was nice to look at and would make an exquisite wall-hanging, but he had brought all he needed for his own weapon. Back in his room, he produced two metal poles, a propane tank, several firm bands and a gas pump handle from his duffle bag. Once it had been assembled and adjusted he admired it proudly, but noted something was amiss. Fumbling through his duffle, he found the crushed remnants of the pilot light. He sighed and held it up. He would need to request a new one from the Administrators assistant tomorrow.
The subtle sound of someone strolling passed his room startled him. Pyro wet his lips beneath the mask and slowly approached the door, pressing his ear to it. The footsteps clopped away, heading for the entrance where the keys were sprawled. An intruder? Pyro had been warned about the underhanded methods that the BLU team were likely to use, so it was entirely possible that they would make a move before the fighting had even began. He hadn't prepared himself to be Spy checking so soon, before the rest of his team had even arrived. Rather than picking up his unfinished flamethrower, he picked up the nearest weapon available – a fire axe strapped to the wall – and opened his door.
Pyro stepped out cautiously, wincing as the hinges creaked, and listened intently for any signs of the intruder as his heart pounded in his chest. He heard rattling, as if one of the keys had been picked up, and then the sound of a lighter sparking. A lighter?
Fire.
Pyro raced to the entrance, adrenaline fuelling his legs, and upon arrival he lifted the axe high above his head. The intruder turned, eyes wide like saucers, before jumping out of the way as the axe came swiping down. The head of the weapon sliced through the table like a hot knife through butter and sent oak shards everywhere, and the keys flying.
"Ce qui la baise?!" The man stared at him aghast. A cigarette fell from his lips, leaving a smoky stream floating upwards. "Etes vous fou!?" he demanded, baring his teeth. Pyro's gaze flickered between the intruder and the axe for an awkward moment. The man was wearing a balaclava, so was obviously a Spy, only he was dressed in red and speaking in what Pyro assumed was French. Slowly, the axe lowered and Pyro scratched his arm sheepishly, feeling embarrassed.
"You're our Spy, aren't you?" he asked. Spy blinked wordlessly at him. "… aren't you?"
"What are you saying?" Good, thought Pyro, he could speak English.
"You're not the RED Spy?"
"I cannot understand a word you are saying," Spy said "But I am going to assume zat you are ze Pyro." He sneered at the blank lenses of the gasmask, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Well?"
"Yeah, I'm the Pyro."
"Take zat off, you make no sense with it on." Spy was getting impatient, drumming gloved fingers on his arm.
"No!" Pyro recoiled, grasping the mask "They said I could keep it on!"
"Mon Dieu," Spy pinched the brink of his nose and an exasperated sigh hissed through his teeth. "I cannot understand you, but fine, keep ze mask on." He brought out and lit a fresh cigarette. "I am ze Spy, one of your new colleagues. I did not think zat anyone else would be arriving so early." He blew smoke in Pyros face. "You can clean up zis mess you've made," he pointed to the scattered keys which lay in disarray among shards of oak. Spy's demeanour calmed more with every passing second, his blue eyes watching the shorter man carefully. Pyro nodded but didn't move, opting instead to simply push his fingers together and look anywhere but his new colleague. This earned him a nasty look from the Frenchman, who then just seemed to vanish into thin air.
"Wow!" Pyro spun around "Where-"
"Fear not," said Spy, remaining cloaked "Zis is just one of the tricks up my sleeve. Trust me when I say, even when you cannot see me" he paused dramatically "I can see you." The last part of that sentence was hissed right into Pyros ear and he shuddered as the room fell dead silent. With a man like Spy skulking about, he'd never take his gasmask off again. He scooped the keys up and dumped them on the crinkled welcoming letter before hurrying back to his room.
The morning could not have come soon enough. He'd slept in his suit and mask out of fear and so was drenched in sweat beneath it. But he could not risk a shower yet, not until he could be certain the Spy was not watching him. As Pyro made his way to the main hall he heard an abundance of voices conversing by the entrance, overlapping and at various volumes. The rest of his team must have arrived. He peered around the corner, keeping his stomach pressed up against the wall. He observed a small group gathered around an authoritive looking man, who was barking instructions at them like a drill instructor. Was he the administrator's assistant?
"Atten-shun!" the stern looking man marched up to the group before him, though the helmet he wore seemed too big for his head and covered his eyes. It really put a damper on the impressive air he was putting on.
Pyro spotted Spy among the gathered men, his unimpressed, half-lidded gaze watching the loud man in the helmet. Beside Spy was a slim man in a red sox jersey who nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, who is dis guy anyhow?" Spy grimaced and wiped his arm as if the boys touch would infect him if not brushed away. Before he could answer however, the helmet wearer marched over.
"I said at attention, private!" he jabbed a finger into the young man's chest, causing him to scowl. "City boy, huh? What's your name short pants?"
"I'm, uh, the Scout-"
"Do you have your tampons stuffed in your ears or do I have a troublemaker in my unit!?"
"Uhh.."
"Speak up, son!" he jabbed his finger again "Are you a pussy? Huh? Is that it!?"
"Wha-no! Hey man, our contract said-"
"I will not tolerate deaf, limp-wristed lilies here, do I make myself clear!?" he swooped in to Scouts face. "Any more wise cracks outta you kiddo, and I'll revoke your weekend pass, understood?!"
"We-we got weekend passes?" Scout scratched his head, having lost track of the topic.
"You must be the Soldier," a tall, black man stepped out of the group before Soldier could continue to rant. "Aye, you're listed as a teammate, no a superior." The man had some kinds of explosive gadget strapped to his vest, so Pyro assumed he was the team's Demolitions man.
"Two wise guys in one platoon, eh? And what the hell's the matter with you, limey?"
"Limey? Am from Scotland ye daft bastard!"
Soldier stared at the man's eye-patch. "What? Your eye fall out when you realised your country wasn't even real?" Before the others could react, Demoman was on Soldier like gum on velcro and the pair were throwing fists about like a pair of drunken boxers.
"I'll kill ye!"Demo roared as he wrapped his hands around Soldiers throat.
"Not if I kill you first!"
"Is dis RED base?" a deep voice rumbled from behind the group and an enormous shadow loomed in the entrance, like a boulder preventing escape. The new arrival was well over six feet tall, and every part of him was huge. Even his gun, which he hauled in his bear like arms, was a mini-gun.
"Yes," Spy answered him "I assume you are ze Heavy weapons man?"
"Nyet," growled the Russian "I am Heavy weapons guy." Spy snorted at him. Both Soldier and Demo stopped their fighting to stare over at the hulk, who began to make his way into the hall. "Sasha is tired," he announced "vere do ve sleep?"
"Sasha?" Scout cocked his head.
"Y'all are the last one here, big guy" a stout labourer with a Texan accent approached him. "Last key left is room 9."
"Tank you," heavy took the tiny key in his paw, having to stoop somewhat to retrieve it.
"I'm the Engineer," said the Tex, "but y'all can jus' call me Engie."
"Engie," repeated Heavy "is good to meet you." He walked past the group to find his room but stopped when he noticed Pyro, still peeping round the corner.
"Uh," Pyro stammered "hey?"
"Vhat is leetle man in mask doing?"
"Ze Pyro" said Spy "our resident loon-ball." When the Heavy walked passed him to retreat for the night Pyro stepped out a bit before the group, all of whom where now staring right at him.
"Howdy," Engie broke the uncomfortable tension and stuck his ungloved hand forward as he made his way over "Pyro, was it?" he smiled, his square jaw jutting forward slightly.
"Yeah," Pyro shook his hand gently, as if he would break it if he weren't careful "That's me." Engineer lifted a sandy eyebrow, his mouth remaining a little agape.
"Right…" Engie smiled, clearly unable to understand Pyro for the mask but still trying to be polite. "Well, you ever need any help with anythin' machine-like" he pointed to himself "I'm your man. So y'all come'n find me, ya hear?"
"Machine-like stuff," Pyro nodded "Got it."
"Right," Engie blinked at him and a silence developed again.
"It's, uh, nice to meet you, Engie." Said Pyro.
"Right, well, see ya around!" Deducing that the conversation must have ended, Engineer went passed him for his own room. Pyro watched him go with slumped shoulders. A conversation started up behind him again as more introductions were made, but it all sounded mumbled to him until a voice cleared itself nearby. He jumped, turning to look straight up and into a pair of round spectacles. The wearer's eyes were hidden as the reflection from the bases energy-saving lights caused a bright sheen to cover the lenses. The man's hair was black and neatly set, but it was his white lab coat that gave his codename away.
"I am ze RED team's medic," he said in a German accent. "Come vith me, bitte." Without waiting for Pyro to answer he stalked passed him towards the infirmary. Pyro opted to follow behind, rather than beside the doctor though he had to march to match the man's brisk pace. As they both made their way down the hall, neither spoke. Upon arriving, Medic put on a pair of gloves and picked up a clipboard, clucking his tongue. "So, you ah ze Pyro?" Medic stared at him, ice-blue eyes narrowed.
"Yeah."
The doctor cocked an eyebrow. "I have been informed by ze higha-ups of your, ah, condition," he said "I am to undastand zat ze mask does not come off, yes?"
"Yes," said Pyro "Uh, I mean yes that's right, no it doesn't come off." He clarified. The German stared at him with unamused but unvoiced annoyance before jotting something down.
"Zis vill make examining you razher frustrating, if not outright impossible." He continued to scribble down notes "so I suggest zat you don't bozher me until you are villing to be reasonable." He stared over the rim of his glasses like a scolding headmaster. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes…" said Pyro "sorry…"
"I'll assume zat vas compliance." He pointed his pencil to the infirmary doors "you may leave." The older man made no attempt to configure any form of doctor-patient relationship, scowling fiercely at Pyro as he fidgeted uncomfortably. At least the higher ups had made his life easier by telling the doctor themselves.
As Pyro walked down the hall, the speaker above his head screeched loudly and crackled. 'RED team this is your announcer speaking. All mercenaries are to report to the supply room in precisely thirty minutes. Failure to attend will result in an instant dismissal.' There was another crackling noise as the announcer logged off. The woman's voice had been stony and harsh, unlike the honeyed tone of the welcoming letter. Twenty-five minutes later Pyro began to make his way down, but fearing tardiness he walked hastily, turning a sharp corner and walking right into the back of someone. The soldier turned, lip curling with distaste.
"And what in Sun Tzu's name are you supposed to be?" Soldier leaned over him. He was far taller, and his shoulder much broader, so when he glowered down at Pyro the shorter man seemed to shrink. He looked raving mad. "Only a coward hides his face, are you a coward, private?"
"No-"
"Well!? You're a pansy? A rifle-dropping coward, is that it? What are you, French!?"
"Fack you" Spy sneered, materialising behind them.
"That's it isn't it!?" Solider continued to loom over Pyro. "You're a goddamn Spy! That's why you hide your face from your own teammates. Well, I am ON to you mumbles, so prove you're a man and take that thing off!"
"No! They said I can keep it on!"
"Glad you agree! I knew you wouldn't want to be a white-flag humping frog like Spy over there," he reached up for Pyros mask "let's show him how Americans wear masks – off our faces!"
"Don't!"
"Zat is enough," the Medic appeared at the door beside a rather indignant looking Spy. "Soldier, let go of ze Pyro."
"Butt out, kraut, we Americans are onto you and your kind." his eyes shifted suspiciously between Medic, who stood with his hands on his hips and Spy, who stood with his arms folded. Neither man looked amused.
"As Pyro's doctor, I am telling you zat ze mask cannot come off. He vill be rendered unfit for vork if it does, und you vill cost us a teammate." Medic leered at him "Now, stop being schtupid. Unhand Pyro zis instant." Surprisingly, Soldier complied.
"Docteur," said Spy "will 'e really be harmed if ze mask is removed?"
"I don't know, all I vas told vas zat ve are not allowed to take it from him. He must consent to it, vich he vill not do." They shot Pyro an odd look.
"Thank you," mumbled Pyro "Soldier was going to…" he stopped. They just looked confused at his attempts to communicate. After exchanging glances, both Medic and Spy walked passed him and into the supply room without another word.
"Ve ah going to be late."
Once everyone had arrived, a small television flickered on and a black and white picture displayed a young, pretty woman in spectacles. "Good afternoon RED team, I'm Miss Pauling," she nodded at the camera "I will be speaking with you whenever missions are to be arranged and when battle strategies are to be discussed. Most of what you really need to know was detailed in your contracts, this is just an introductory meeting."
"Pardon me ma'am," Engie spoke up. "When would our first mission happen to be?"
"Good question, I just received the details," she opened an envelope on the screen. "Your first mission will take place tomorrow morning."
"Who are ve keeling?" Heavy, even sitting down, remained at height with the Spy who stood just behind him.
"You'll be killing anyone who enters or tries to enter the base. Your first mission guys, is to defend this place from BLU, while at the same time recovering their intelligence." A few of the men grinned at this, and Demoman swigged from a suspicious looking bottle.
"So like, is there anythin' we ain't allowed to do? Or is it a 'the only rule is there are no rules' type'a gig?" Scout had removed his hat, licked his hand and smoothed down his hair before addressing the television screen.
"Everything should be straight forward enough, if you do anything wrong, you'll soon know about it. Now, for your first mission you are to devise amongst yourselves your plan of action, the Administrator wants to see what you're made of. Any questions?"
"Yeah," said Scout "what you doin' tonight, Miss Pauline?"
"It's Pauling," she corrected "and working. I suggest you all do the same." And then the screen went black. There was an awkward silence as all eyes fell on Scout.
A tall man whose face was obscured by a wide-brimmed bush hat and a pair of aviators looked across at him. "Smooth."
"Alright ladies," Soldier stood and everybody had to supress a groan. "Listen up! We are going to maul those BLU Nancy's back to England with their tea and crumpets up their asses, so I expect you all to be ready for battle by 06:00 hours tomorrow morning!"
"Ze battle does not start until nine, dummkopf." Medic shook his head "Ve should meet around seven thirty to go ovah ze tactics."
"I don't know what 'doom cough' means you goose-stepping, Mein Kampf worshipping sonovabitch, because this is America, not Germany!"
Medic firmly planted his palms into the table top and got to his feet so quickly that Pyro thought he meant to leap over the surface for Soldier, who looked pretty pleased with himself. "Hey now," the Engineer put a hand of Medics shoulder and slowly sat him back down "we got less than a day t'come up with a game plan here, boys. So let's leave the fightin' for tomorrow."
"Aye, agreed." Demoman's voice had changed pitch somewhat, and the belch he let out all but confirmed that he was indeed getting stone drunk this early in the day.
"I already found a good spot for some good ol' fashioned Snipin'," said Sniper, his accent Australian. "I'll keep an eye out fer those who can't-"
"WOTCH'YA SAY 'BOUT ME EYE!?" Demo got to his feet, though he wobbled on his drunken legs. "YA DIRTY, CAMPY WEASEL-"
"Bloody hell." Sniper brought his hands up defensively "I wasn't talkin' 'bout yer eye!"
"Ya were thinkin' it!"
Spy brought his palm to his face. "Mon Dieu, you imbeciles are going to get me killed."
"WE DO NOT SPEAK FRENCH IN AMERICA!" roared Soldier. Amongst the bickering Scout caught a glimpse of Pyro twiddling his thumbs, somehow managing to look nervous even with that gas mask on.
"Hey man," Scout leaned over "When ya gonna take the mask off?"
"I-"
"Scout." Medic snapped, though he was ignored.
"I mean, ya gonna have'ta at some point, right? Like, if ya get bashed on the head or whatever tomorrow."
"I don't-"
"Cuz I mean, like, if ya start bleedin' from the head all messy and shit then you'll ha-OW!" Scout hissed in pain as Medic nipped him firmly on the ear, steering him away from Pyro like a father might do to a naughty child. "Hey man, what da fuck!?" he squirmed.
"Leave ze Pyro alone." Said Medic "Or I vill chop you up into little pieces and keep you in my fridge, understand?" he let go of Scouts ear, who immediately scuttled backwards.
"You're a freak, doc, ya know dat?"
"Don't make me prove you right, boy." Not another retort was given, and Scout quickly left the hall, mumbling derogatory things regarding the good doctor's nationality.
"Ah you alright?" Medic looked over at Pyro but his expression was not sympathetic, he just looked annoyed again. Pyro nodded. "Gut. Now, zis sorry attempt to devise a strategy has vasted enough of my time. I vill be in ze infirmary if anybody needs me."
"Hey Doc," Engie got to his feet "mind if I come with? I, ah, got somethin' I wanna talk to ya about." As Engie followed Medic out of the supply room he felt a presence shadowing him. "I was hoping to talk to Doc privately, lil' feller."
"I know," said Pyro "I just don't want to stay here with these guys." Although Engie couldn't understand him, he got the jist of what was said and nodded.
"Y'all ain't gonna tell nobody?"
"Couldn't if I tried, apparently."
"Alrighty then, you can tag along." The infirmary was were Pyro could tell Medic would spend most of his time, rather than his own room. He hadn't known the man a day, yet his enthusiasm for his work was bone chilling.
"So, vhat seems to be ze problem?" Medic removed his glasses and produced a little silk handkerchief to wipe them with before placing them back on his nose.
"Well," Engie produced a roll of blueprints as if from nowhere and dropped them on the table. "How would ya feel if I told you that with your help, I could build a machine that could stop the very clutches of death, doc?"
For the first time since he arrived, Medic smiled "Vhy Engineer," he chuckled "You've just earned yourself a partner." Pyro sat on one of the gurneys, swinging his legs. The two egg heads were doing that scientist thing were there is a lot of menacing giggling, much malicious grinning and a bit of silent understanding. After trying and failing for several minutes to wrap his head around the terms the two scheming scientists were using, Pyro headed back to his room. As he lay in bed that night, he slid under his covers and brought his hand up to rest on the fastenings of his mask.
It's not like Spy could see me now, he thought, could he? Sighing, he pulled his hands away. Another night, maybe.
The next day, a lot of ideas were shared, or rather screamed, around the supply room. By the end of the rowdy discussion, some progress had been made.
"Alright, offense!" Soldier pointed at Scout and Pyro "what do we do!?"
"Beat da crap outta them BLUs!" said Scout, patting his aluminium bat in his palm. Pyro nodded, rolling his shoulders back in anticipation.
"Atta boy. Defense!"
"I vill defend bridge, keel all BLU who try to cross!" roared Heavy. He patted Sasha who, as it turns out, was actually his gun.
"I'll head ta the sewers, if any Spy's try'ta sneak up, I'll blow them straight ta hell!" said Demo "cheers!" he swigged vigorously from his scrumpy bottle, staggering back as he did.
"I'll git on over to the supply room, set a sentry up for our intel in a jiffy." Engie nodded. "No BLUs will reach our briefcase, folks, mark ma word." He was holding a chunky wrench in his hand, his face mostly hidden by his hard hat and protective eye wear.
"Do me proud, boys!" Soldier saluted them then turned "Support!?"
"Head to me nest, make lot'sa pink clouds." Sniper nodded "Gotcha."
"I vill flank Heavy, but I vill be ready to assist anyvone injured on ze front lines." Said Medic. "If you need healing, call me."
"And I," Spy grinned "will be back with ze BLU intel in no time." He took a drag of his cigarette, looking smug.
"Let's give 'em hell!" soldier pulled out an entrenching shovel and smacked it off his helmet like a lunatic, but it only succeeded in exciting his team and they all cheered and braced themselves as the announcer started the countdown. As they waited, Pyro felt the excitement swarming through him. It was time to make things burn.
"CHARGE!" The iron gates screeched open and the RED team raced out onto the battlefield.
