The day was dragging by at a snail's pace. It wasn't a bad thing though, these rare days of leave were welcomed with open arms and if it was going to drag – so be it – that was more time on her watch. It was only noon and temperatures had already reached 80 degrees. Thankfully the industrial cooling system had dropped the base temperature to a tolerable 70. They didn't have much in the way of shade, save for the shadows of the buildings, and since work was more or less held outside, they were able to spend their free time indoors without feeling guilty. Of all the members of the team, Demoman was the only one outside. Interaction with the other team, though frowned upon, was acceptable on ceasefires – and today, the two Demoman entertained each other in a good-humored game of Football, showing off their handling skills with the checkered ball.

Pyro watched from the bullet proof windows. There was no way in hell she'd go out there – not in this heat. It was days like these that she had deliberately crossed paths with a Soldier's missile or tread upon a mass of sticky bombs, anything to get out of the sweltering heat – even death. It wasn't really dying, it was hard to explain, more like blacking out to excruciating pain only to wake up seconds later in the base ready to jump out and fight again.

"Fff," she exhaled. As long as she was inside she'd be fine, and as long as she didn't do too much running around the suit wouldn't generate that much heat. She turned away from the window, walking down the brightly lit hall. For her there wasn't much to do, she was forced into solitude, her lack of conversation a bit of a turn off towards the other classes and after punching the Scout in the face she had minimal chances of hanging out with him. Heavy was no doubt hovering over the Doc's back, watching him work, asking questions and being ignorant in general (Medic had a lot of patience for him though, anyone on the team could tell you that). Finding a source of entertainment amongst others was difficult. Soldier's idea of fun was yelling at you for thirty minutes then tossing grenades into the air and juggling them. If you wanted to have a heart attack or just wanted to feel completely useless and inadequate, he was the man to go to. Engineer was busy working, Scout had already informed her of that, so no point in trying. She could join the two Demomen in a game of Football, but the last time she had he had yelled at her for doing a "Pish poor job." He took the game way to seriously. Sniper wasn't a fan of company himself and whenever she tried to be buddy-buddy, he had sat quietly, answering to any commentary in short notes, his mind miles away. Then there was the Spy. Still want to feel inferior and the Soldier isn't quite doing the job? See the Spy. The first day she had met him, recalled the Pyro, he had called her a "useless addition to the team" and added that her class was only good for one thing, "a light" and he did just that - lit his cigarette by use of her Flamethrower. There was no way she was going to be "playing" with anyone else today.

After a certain point there were no more windows and the hall darkened just a little. It was here in this section of the building did their rooms reside, each door donning its rightful owner's class mark. Her room was second to last on the left, squeezed between Soldier and Scout. She hated it, two of the loudest people next door to her. Scout wasn't incredibly bad, tolerable at most times, he just had a tendency of staying up until dawn. Soldier on the other hand, couldn't help but shout at everything. His late night TV shows became one sided screaming matches and God FORBID he get a phone call. Midday however, her room would be quiet.

She stopped before her door, there was no handle, no doorknob, nothing – the only way to get in was to slide your key through the card reader and push the door open. It was great security, both against the other team and their own, but the keys were easy to lose if you didn't have a pocket, like Pyro. Usually she tucked it into her glove, but today she found, it was missing.

"FF!" she took it off and peered within. Impossible. She had just used it to get breakfast, where could it have gone? She flipped the glove upside down and shook it, hoping that by some miracle it was stuck within and could be shaken lose. No luck there. She pulled the glove back on. The Administrator was going to kill her.

"Monsieur?"

The voice startled her. She whipped about, hands reaching for her axe; but she hadn't brought her weapons out today leaving her looking quite daft as she groped the air in search of the nonexistent wooden handle. The Red Spy chuckled, a smug grin plastered on his face. No matter how much she wished to deny it, he was quite good at what he did – luckily he was on her team.

"Mff ffmfu," she apologized, quickly attempting to regain any kind of composure she once had.

Spies. They were forever sneaking around. He was like a child, always laying in wait just around the corner, ready to pop out and scream "BOO!" at his unsuspecting victim.

"I believe," started the man as his hand disappeared into his coat, removing something from the inside breast pocket, "Zis is yours," he held out an ID card that doubled as keys. She had used it in the mess hall when she had gotten her food – must have left it. She gratefully took it back.

"Ffffm,"

"I am going to guess 'thank you?' Non?" he was one of the better translators in the base, being the only one to successful decode her messages time and time again. "You are welcome." He watched her as she unlocked her door and tucked the card key back into its hiding spot within her glove. "Perhaps you'd better keep it in a pocket?"

Yeah, pockets would have been a good idea, but she didn't have any on her suit, the only ones she had were on her shorts – imagine how awkward it'd be having to unzip her suit to take out and put away her card. It was ridiculously excessive. The Spy had a point though, this wasn't the first time she'd had had her card slip out of her glove, however most times she had caught on before she left it behind. If she had been unlucky and the BLU team got a hold of it they'd be in a whole lot of trouble.

"Mff…ffmmmfuu fffmf," she complained, pointing to her pocket-less suit. It was never wise to give a Spy your back, even if he was on the same team. You could never be too careful. She pressed her back into her door, using it to push it open, the whole time keeping her eyes on the Spy. Admittedly, it wasn't a smart move to let a Spy see your room either, it was their most private space – that meant secrets – and Spies were all about secrets.

He didn't have to laugh for her to know he was amused by her antics, his eyes and that arrogant smirk said it all. "Well then perhaps you would like me to 'old onto it for you?" pried the man.

A single finger gave his answer. Fuck off.

It was amazing how well one could communicate through the hands.

The door slammed shut, leaving the Spy to himself, the smile of accomplishment holding firm.

A breather, she just needed a breather. She cupped her hands around the back of her head a

nd tugged. The mask slipped off with little effort. She sighed. Air, ahhh it felt so good, her eyes closed to the feeling. The suit itself wasn't bad, but the mask could cause her to get a bit claustrophobic. It was hot and air came in thick breaths, like gulping down a jug of syrup, it stuck to the back of your throat. Inhale. Exhale. She opened her eyes, focusing on the crude metal interior of her room. Metal bed, metal table, metal shelves – it was so…industrial and cold, the only bit of warmth were her own items – the papers, the photographs..those always made her smile. Different from her team her parents were gone, she had no telephone calls reminding her she was a crazed killer, no care packages with weapons and snack packs, she just had ashes. She was a big girl though and death was a common sight to her, not just on the Reliable Excavation and Demolition Team, but in her previous life before the team. Actually, there wasn't much of a difference between what she did now and what she did then – only the people were alive when she burned them.

She stood with her back against the door once more, wondering if the Spy still stood on the other side. She rubbed her neck as she reflected. How awkward it would be if her team saw her for who she really was, undoubtedly she would be treated differently, like the child of the team; soon enough Heavy would be carrying her weapon for her. She didn't WANT to be the girl of the team, she wanted to be just like them, just another guy, but that wasn't how things worked. Girls were supposed to be delicate little flowers, not pyromaniacs. The pressure of keeping her identity was tough for her, she wasn't fit for that position, that's what Spies were for – she wasn't a Spy.

"Oh well…"

She tugged the mask over her face.

As much as she wanted to be herself, she wanted even more to be Pyro.