Good day to the lot of you. I've finally decided to make a fanfic that borrows a theme from many others; the discovery of what the pyro is. However, I'm taking my own ORIGINAL twist on it. For all you sissies out there, you might not want to read this fic. I have a feeling it might get sexy, as well as getting very violent.

Much like me.

If I don't ever finish it, shoot me. I don't know where this is going.

At all.

EDIT: Start reviewing you little dopehounds, else this story ain't going any further than III.

~ Miss Trendy Slenderpanties


"YOU FAILED!" Rang the announcer's voice loudly over the RED intercom. The RED team couldn't care less at this point for the automated message, they had fought valiantly and had no reason to be ashamed. The BLUs had won by only one point this time. The aching mercenaries on both sides retreated to their respectfully colored bases, their battle having ceased, they no longer had any reason to fight one another. If it were up to them, the two teams would likely get along quite well, the only thing holding them back was their contracts and their hefty paychecks.

Few enjoyed the heartless slaughter of one another, but in this place, you could do so as violently as you wished without punishment; that is, until respawn shut off for the night. There were some who relished in the fact they could commit such felonies without the threat of being thrown in jail, while others were indifferent to the fact.

Chatter started between few of the skilled mercenaries, mainly from the Scout, whom always felt the need to boast about his skill in the battle. His words began to bubble up in several different conversation, some loud and some nothing but tired murmurs. There were some mercenaries who didn't participate in the conversations. A select three. The Sniper, the Spy, and the Pyro.

Sniper wasn't a very social person; he preferred to keep to himself. Only very rarely did he participate in conversation, and it was likely only so he wouldn't drive himself mad from isolating himself so severely.

The Spy preferred to keep up a mysterious shield so his contributions to conversations wouldn't be something predictable. He chimed in more than the Sniper, often to make witty snaps or prove himself smarter than someone else, but as mentioned previously, the Spy was content to appear as an enigma to his colleagues.

Pyro. The BLU's pyro could be seen often muffling socially to the others, but the RED Pyro was very quiet. It spoke to no one aside from the Medic and the young woman who served as the cook. The Pyro was an even more confusing enigma of a being than the Spy was; no one had seen it under the mask, no one had heard the clear-as-a-bell voice, only through the muffled gas mask it so proudly seemed to wear. The RED Spy was tired of not knowing what lie beneath the soulless black goggles, he intended to find out, if it was the last thing he would ever do. At least, the Spy presumed no one had seen it. He had become suspicious that the Medic had seen it; everyone was required check-ups every so often to make sure they were in peak working condition.

Stormy grey eyes narrowed behind the crimson balaclava, the words of the mercenaries nothing but a blurr to him as he watched the disturbingly suited and seemingly emotionless shell of the pyro, dragging its bloodied fire-axe up the stairs, each step giving a dull 'clunk' that seemed to ring in his ears. He wasn't sure if it was just him not paying attention, but he was sure the other mercenaries had quieted down.

Pyro turned to begin stepping up the other flight of stairs, but the heavy boots halted and the mask seemed to turn directly to him, light reflecting off the black goggles in an eerie manner. The Spy could see a splatter of blood on the rounded edge of Pyro's left goggle, his eyes having shifted to look at it. When he looked back, the Pyro had turned towards the stairs once more, the rhythmic 'bang.. bang… bang..' resuming once more.

His eyes deep in thought, the Spy continued to listen to the Pyro's axe making dull noises up the stairs, even after it had disappeared, his eyes drawing to the lighter flame he had produced, swiftly lighting up a cigarette before being replaced back in an internal pocket of his expensive jacket. His free hand brought the fag to his lips, before both black gloved hands straightened his tie even while he took a long drag of the cigarette. Blowing the smoke out the side of his lips, the Spy cloaked himself when he heard the running of water, the Pyro cleaning its axe at the usual time. He would wait in its room; surely it would unmask itself before it slept.

Silently, the cloaked RED made his way up the stairs and into the Pyro's room. He might have time to snoop around before the Pyro returned. What he found was intriguing to say the least; some of it disturbing. The very first thing he saw was the most disturbing, he had to look at it closer. An old doll, similar in appearance to a Barbie.. mostly. It had been sat on the nightstand, and he couldn't help but shudder at the ghastly appearance.

Marker had been drawn on it in a few places in black, one of the eyes in particular. Said eye was missing all the eyelashes, and the hair was completely ruined. Some of it had been charred at the edges, while other parts of the hair were missing. The clothes had gone too long without even a slight wash, yellowing in some places, fading and tearing in others. One of the hands was gruesomely mauled, and one of the feet was missing. Almost as soon as he had picked it up, the Spy had to put it down and look away.

In a drawer, there were hundreds of black and white photos of the same man, over and over again. No one he recognized; it was none of the mercenaries, and no one related to himself. It made the Spy wonder who it was, and furthermore, why the Pyro had so many pictures of him. In another drawer were needles filled with what appeared to be heroin, accompanied by several bags of marijuana. Pyro was obviously doing some drugs.

He had been about to peek in the wardrobe when Spy heard the water shut off and the Pyro's boots coming in his direction. He moved to the corner of the room, awaiting the appearance of the masked monstrosity. Although cloaked, he pulled a face at the sound Pyro's axe made as it dragged along the floor, getting louder and louder.

When Pyro stepped into the room, his eyes watched carefully, the Spy being sure not to move at all. Pyro's chest heaved, seeming to sigh heavily. The mask turned to the nightstand, where the Pyro laid its axe down gently, giving it a fond pat. Standing in the same place, Pyro scooped up the doll in the rubber gloves, caressing the remaining hare and tilting its head. This doll was set down gently as well, a little pat given on its head.

The Pyro turned on its heel, the doll falling over on its side helplessly with the movement, staring endlessly at the wall. Peering into the hallway for a moment, the Pyro closed the door and locked the three locks on it, giving the doorknob a twist to make sure it worked. A muffled hum came from within the mask, startling the Spy a bit, his eyes wide and intrigued. The clock in the room ticked nearly silently as Pyro's heavy boots moved to the mirror, the masked monstrosity looking at itself.

The Spy was almost giddy with excitement. It was much like a child opening a present at Christmas; he was finally going to discover one of the secrets that might be the bane of his existence. Pyro shifted inside the suit, the arms going limp and body bulging awkwardly a bit as the Pyro obviously moved the arms from the sleeves to fiddle with something in the chest. The sound of a zipper unzipping rang in his ears. What he saw was exactly the opposite of what he was expecting.

She pulled herself out of the suit with a huff, brushing the short strawberry hair from her scarred face. Observing her, the Spy couldn't help to notice that this was not what a woman should like. Many tattoos snaked up her left arm, her right forearm pink with burn scars that ran up to her shoulder and around her back, disappearing into the tank top she wore. Both arms were thicker and likely stronger than his own, barely any fat on her at all. Her hair was too short to be feminine, dark green eyes holding nearly no expression. The scarring on her right shoulder crept up her neck and blossomed onto her jaw.

She seemed flat chested until the Pyro reached under her shirt and tugged on something, giving a breath of relief; she had likely bound her breasts. Even so, the Spy had seen many women with a larger bust than she; but he deemed that on her frame it would look very misplaced. When her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips, he noticed a piercing on her tongue; nothing spectacular, simply a stud. As far as piercings went, her ears were not symmetrical. The left had two, and the right had one.

Deeply intrigued by her appearance alone, the Spy began to wonder why a woman of all people had been chosen to fight for RED. He knew not about the BLU pyro's identity, but hers alone was interesting enough. A woman like herself was not found often; in appearance, she wasn't the sexiest woman, but she wasn't terrible looking either. Once you got past all the scars and everything. Her suit was roughly put on a hanger as she slipped back into the boots she had abandoned.

He had to talk to her. He had to get answers. Anything. Everything. Despite his severe case of curiosity, his expression remained neutral. The sound of the RED Spy dropping his cloak was fairly loud, and the Pyro clearly heard it and saw him in her mirror. "So you are a woman." The Frenchman said bluntly. "I knew you'd come here eventually." She smirked, glancing over her shoulder with a pearly grin, her canines fairly sharp. Pyro held an accent that he wasn't familiar with. "I'd been getting awful lonely waiting for you, y'know."

The Spy cocked an eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean, mademoiselle?" Her hands shoved into the pockets of her black leggings as she turned with a nonchalant shrug. "I was starting to think you weren't coming. It's not polite to keep a lady waiting."

"I mean no offense cher, but you are not exactly zhe type of lady I was expecting." He remarked in return, dipping his head. "Harsh," Pyro tutted, "Yeah, I get that a lot. Do you honestly expect some long-haired chick with giant implants and stick arms to be carrying around a flamethrower and murdering the likes of you all day?" A snort of amusement sounded from him as he took the cigarette from between his lips to blow out some smoke, replacing the fag just as easily.

"I suppose not." The Spy hummed, continuing to look her over, getting more and more intrigued by the minute. "You were not zhe type of woman I was expecting, but perhaps even betteour. You certainly are an intriguing sight." His lips tugged in the faintest of smiles. Spy's eyes had moved up to meet hers as she leaned against the wall. "I assume by your natuere zhat you won't be giving me many of zhe answers I see, oui?" He hummed. In response, the Pyro shook her head with a grin. "I enjoy seeing that look in your eyes." She said quietly, almost in seductive fashion as she smirked. "The one you get when someone knows something you don't."