Another day of ceasefire, a mutual agreement between teams and disappoint to their overseer – the Administrator. Pyro pulled the blankets up over her head, from the beginning of the day to the end of the night her head was covered.

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

What an obnoxious alarm.

She rolled over in her bed, blankets tucked over her head. Her hand slipped out from beneath the covers, slapping the entire body of the clock hoping that some part of her palm would hit the 'snooze' button.

Mission accomplished.

Groggily she withdrew the covers, grabbing her gasmask from her lampshade and placed it atop her head. It was a bit stuffy, these brief moments of freedom a great relief for her. She stood, stretched and yawned, relishing in the taste of free air. After a breather, she tugged the face of the mask down over her own.

She pulled open the door, stepping out into the lighted hallway. It was a short trek to the locker room; three doors down, turn the corner, first on the left. She had gotten over the initial shock of having others use the same locker room, same bathroom and showers, and having to awkwardly make her way around them. It took her only a few days to get over it and the same amount to work out a good plan.

" 'ey Pyro," Scout jammed a toothbrush in his mouth.

"Mmff" she shuffled past the sinks and into the locker room. Her locker already donned a fresh suit for her as well as fresh towels.

It was just like every other day, grab towels, grab a stall, and shower. Cold showers were her favorite – that jumpsuit could get awful hot. She shivered as the water soaked her through, running her fingers through her tangled red hair. She didn't pay as much attention to herself as other girls her age. Work kept her in great shape, but due to the immense heat she saved from using makeup, sweat would simply wash it away and even so, she had no need to wear it. There was one thing, however, the other girls her age WEREN'T doing – killing, and personally, she'd have it no other way.

She covered her head, and herself, in a towel, exiting the stall to dress in the locker room. The cold of the tiles slithered up her legs, leaving a delightful flutter in her stomach. She wasn't too worried about the Scout's presence in the adjacent room, he was always so oblivious to the events surrounding him. He had a habit of "blinking" at the most convenient (and inconvenient) of times. She slunk up to her locker, removing the suit from its hook along with her bag of undergarments. It was too hot to wear much under the suit, so more often than not she would sport a tank top and shorts. She knew it was in her best interest to minimize the amount of skin in contact with the insulation of the suit, but it was inconceivable; the suit could barely breathe as it was, adding more padding underneath would just overheat her quicker.

She zipped the suit up, then bent forward and towel dried her hair. She flipped her head back, pulling her hair up into a lazy bun before dragging the thick gas mask over her face.

"Dude," it was the Scout, "Aint you hot innat? Didn'tcha hee'a, we got the day off!" there had been previous attempts to get the Pyro out of the uncomfortable suit, and all of them a failure, just as this one would be.

"Mfffmh hmff fhmmm," came the response.

Scout lifted his baseball cap and scratched his head, "Y-yea, exac'ly," he never could comprehend what the Pyro said, the "mmfs" and "fmmfs" all sounded the same. Once in a while he had a major breakthrough and could decode the jumbled message, but most of the time he left that part to the more patient players of the team.

Pyro exited the bathroom, leaving a confused Scout behind. Truth be told she'd already lightened the load a bit, not carrying around an oxygen tank made it that much easier for her to tolerate the suit. The hallways were scarce, the rest of the team either still asleep or at breakfast – which didn't sound like a bad idea right now.

The scent of breakfast floated through the air, filtered up into the Pyro's mask. The mess hall was quiet, a few soft conversations floating by, the sounds of forks and knives scraping against plates.


"Oy," Sniper poked the Spy with the butt of his fork, "Look 'oo just walked in."

The Spy raised his head, gazing casually in the direction the gunman had directed. The Pyro took a lonely seat with his tray of food. He slid the front of the mask up slightly to expose his mouth, promptly beginning to shovel food in.

"Ever seen 'is face?" asked the Australian.

"Non," replied the other.

"Odd bloke." Sniper took another mouthful of food to his mouth. He saw everything on the field, knew everything about everyone, but if anyone slipped from his radar is was Pyro and the man who sat beside him. A puff of smoke snaked beneath his nose as the Spy exhaled.

"Indeed," The Spy didn't like not knowing and though the Sniper's intentions were not to make him feel lesser, he couldn't help that creeping sense of inferiority. His fingers slipped up to the cigarette pressed between his lips. He inhaled, withdrew the butt and exhaled. He snuffed his cigarette butt in the ashtray before him. He hadn't been playing this game long, the Pyro's adept skills in Spy hunting had prevented any type of actual investigation. Even if the Pyro was unaware of his presence, he had quickly found the man to cover himself at any possible exposure: when he ate, when he slept – any possibility of being seen and the man had a veil, as if the Spy's intrigue was sensed. He hadn't even heard the man's voice, not even at the breakfast table when he had the mask titled up.

His unbridled train of thought had caused him to consume another cigarette. The more he delved into the subject, the more it irked him. It must have shown on his face, the Sniper prodding him with his elbow.

"You alright the'a mate?"

Spy blinked, exhaling a stream of smoke through his nostrils, "Oui." Curiosity killed the cat, he reminded himself – so he was going to have to be one sneaky cat.


"Move ova, chucklehead." Showered, brushed and dressed, the Red Scout sidled up next to Pyro, plopping down his tray of food. He was a human trash can and the amount of food piled up on his plate proved it.

Close contact wasn't one of her favorites and the Scout was always a little too close. He jammed his fork into his mouth, chomping down on more than he could handle. "So," he started, mouth full, "I heard the Engineer is workin' on a new upgrade," he loaded his mouth with more food, "Who you think it's for?"

Pyro pulled her mask down, dropping a naked fork to her just as bare plate. "Mfff fmm" she shrugged.

Scout gave a confused look, "Really?" he asked, "Dude, it'd be so much easia' if you just said it when ya mask was up,"

A muffled chuckle escaped from the masked man.

"Yea…that's creepy," he turned back to his food, shoveling more down the hatch, "I bet it's for me," he added, returning back to the previous conversation.

"Fmmmr mfff frrfumrrr muuuru mmff mmmrr mrr?" the gloved hand of the Pyro gestured to the Scout, then pointed to the baseball bat strapped to his back.

"No way man, my Ma' sent me this baby," he defended, "What?" a sarcastic chuckle, "you think he's makin' somethin' for you? P-uuh-leeasee that's a waste."

"Fmmrf fafff ff murrr? Mrrff frmmm fffmm fm murrff fff," it was obvious Pyro was angry, but what exactly he was saying was a mystery in itself.

"I'm just sayin, all you gotta do is walk around an' burn shit, capturing Intel takes skill. OW!" his hands jumped to his face, holding his throbbing nose. "What the shit man!" he felt the blood trickle down between his fingers, "Aw man, I'm bleedin!" He jumped up from his seat. "DOC!" he sprinted from the room in search of the Medic, leaving a proud Pyro behind.

Starting off on the right foot.