I did not have a computer for a long time. I do now. Updates will now be more regular. I hope people are still reading.

~If you are going through hell, keep going.

~Winston Churchill

Back at RED headquarters they gave me a new, non-broken gas mask. It was exactly like the one before, black and shiny, identical to the faded print of the front. It still managed to remind me that I had lost my first gas mask in the fire, the one that the firefighter had given me. Even though I had upgraded masks, I still loved the old one. It had some sort sentimental value. I wasn't a sentimental person, but I kinda missed it. It was the only physical thing I had left from the firefighter.

Not that it matters anymore. I no longer need it. Even if I did need it, mourning over the mask would've been pointless.

Everyone lost something in the fire. Anything they couldn't grab on their way out of the burning base was now destroyed. Heavy grabbed Sasha, Medic his medigun, Soldier his helmet, Spy grabbed some of his more expensive toys, Sniper had most of his stuff in his van, Engie had nothing; but he had enough sense to move the pickup truck farther away from the base so it didn't catch too. Scout only had his dogtags, but he was complaining about his bats and Demo just didn't seem to care about anything he left.

If I wasn't so torn up and if I wasn't muttering apologies under my mask repeatedly I'm sure my team would've had some words with me. They didn't say much but their stares were worth a thousand fucking words.

All my life people have stared. And never in my life has it bugged me so much.

I couldn't figure out why it bugged me so much, when I've been treated ten times worse.

When it came down to questioning time we kept the story straight between the nine of us. How believable it was I don't know, but if Miss Pauling didn't believe the story it didn't show. However, she did clarify that I wasn't getting my new ID or a raise anytime soon. That was fine, I could wait.

After a day and a half the team and I were released from headquarters.

And after that day and a half I realized I didn't have anywhere to go. I didn't have a home. My face looked like it had been run over by a train. I hadn't worked up enough money to purchase a house, and before I could do that I needed a new identity anyway. Retailers wouldn't wanna sell to America's most notorious dead arsonist.

When I walked out to RED's parking lot, I realized just how stranded I was. "Well fuck."

I thought about it a bit, and decided that being homeless again wouldn't be too bad. I was homeless all the while when on the run, doing that again couldn't be hard.

I watched Medic and Heavy jump on a bus, presumably to an airport. They were going to tour Germany for a bit if I remember right.

Scout was taking a train home. He passed me in the parking lot, smiling like a dope. He was a lot happier than he usually was, I bet getting to go home played a big part in his mood. He's easier to talk to when he's not grumpy or complaining about respawn effects. I thought of something to say to him, cause I wanted to say something. I guess I kinda just followed him to the end of the lot (I space out a lot), and he asked "Hey Pyro, ya got a place to stay? Like, I don't got no room, but my ma has this thing about friends on the street and our attic-"

"No, I'm good."

"Yo, Mumbles you're mumbling." The mask itched.

"Bye Scout." There was no way in hell I would stay with Scout.

"Yeah, alright, bye man. Take care of yourself. See ya in like, soon, alright?"

"Mhmmm."

I waited at the edge of the lot as Demo left with Sniper in his crummy van. I must've known someone who had that van, it's pretty freaking familiar. They waved to me and left, looking back in the rear view mirror a couple times to many. They stared. I scoffed. They weren't going home. Home was just too far away for Sniper and Demo was just along for the ride. They were gonna travel the country for a couple weeks before RED contacted them again. If I asked they probably would've let me come with.

I didn't notice Spy leave.

I only noticed Soldier leave when he set a hand on my shoulder and said I was a good soldier. I don't know why he said it.

He had said that a couple of times since the accident. He never gave me those judgmental looks. Not really, he gave the usual 'raging soldier' stares, but those were easy to deal with. Soldier drove away on his own, with a salute. I was almost surprised he had a drivers license, let alone a high end Cadillac. The back seats were filled with rockets and a stuffed raccoon if it helps you picture it better.

I always liked Soldier. We were opposites when it came to just about everything but you could always tell what he was thinking.

I think I spaced out again.

Engineer left last. He packed a bunch of boxes into the back of that pickup truck and drove off. He waved. I stared at the bags at my toes and let a sigh slip from my lips.

The greasy man appeared to my left. Smirking. Staring. Judging. I didn't look at him, but at this point I didn't need to. With a voice as smooth as a radio host's he said, "Don't tell me you thought he would stop for you and take you away like in a damned disney movie."

The urge to argue with him was hard to resist. "No," I said as if I were spitting slugs at him.

"Well expressed, hun. You have a way with words."

I hate his sarcasm. "Mhhhmm."

I closed my eyes and shook my head as if that would clear him from my mind. Him and his stupid condescending words. I kept my eyes closed for a second longer than necessary to prepare myself for the fact that he would still be there when I opened them.

"Oh look sweetheart, he's coming back."

Sure enough, the truck was making its way back. I must've looked really sorry in the rear view mirror. I blinked and it was in front of me. Engie leaned over and opened the passenger door. He sighed the sigh of a guy who was used to going the extra mile. "Need a ride little buddy?"

"Look, how generous. Not many men invite stray animals into their passenger seats." I whispered a fuck you under my breath and sent Engie a thumbs up. I straightened my mask as if that would make me look more presentable. Straightening my mask had become the equivalent of brushing hair behind my ear; I used to do that when I had hair longer than a couple inches.

There was barely any room in the truck bed for my bags.

I hopped into the passenger seat and almost scooted to the middle to make room for the greasy man. I forget he's just in my head a bit too often. The both of us, just Engineer and I, rode away.

...

Driving is a comfortable thing for me. I like car rides, always have. I also like quiet. The car was not quiet. Engineer has literally the worst taste in music. Country.

For three straight hours the radio in the truck blared country and western music at me, and as it rolled into the fourth hour I retorted "You listen to utter garbage, you know that?"

He was surprised I spoke up. After four hours of no talking you think I'd keep it that way. "Gonna have to repeat that son, can't hear a damn thing you're sayin'- in fact, I've seen your face already, take off that mask because we have a lot talk about." He turned down the radio.

I ignored him. I didn't wanna talk.

"Damn it Pyro, I don't know what to do with you- burning down the entire base, acting funny as hell for as long as I've known you... You're, you're sick and we need to talk."

"Talk about what?" As if I didn't know.

"Well for starters, why the hell you burnt the damn base down!"

This is what I'd been wanting for months. For help, for someone to ask what was wrong. For a chance to fix it. I was getting what I wanted and flushing it away. "Fuck you."

"That mouth of yours too. You gotta clean up your act son."

I pretty much growled at him. I regret it too.

He pulled over to the curb of the road, put the car in park and turned to me with one of those daring looks - the kind that dare you to step over the line. Though I wasn't sure where the line was, and even if I did I wouldn't have stopped there.

"My mouth is fine, old man." I said a bit more than that, stupid things, but as I kept on talking my voice got higher and my hands shook.

I was approaching that fucking line and his voice, way too calm, was letting me know. "Now, son, it ain't fine and neither is the rest of you."

"Fuck you."

"You got anything else to say?"

I gave him the middle finger before coming up with something more clever. "Yeah,-"

It was too late. I already crossed that invisible line. "Then say it like a man -or whatever- and take the damn mask off. No more hiding behind it. Speak so I don't have to guess on every damn word that falls out of that foul mouth."

I glared at him. Didn't do much good. "I don't wanna. Mind your own fucking business."

Engie gave up and pulled the truck back on the road.

And then we stopped talking. Two minutes later the music was back on.

...

Eventually, when it was dark and little polka dots of lights lit of the cities we passed on the highway, I found it in me to apologize. "Sorry." My words weren't meaningful or heartfelt, but I couldn't say anything like that so I hoped it was good enough. I tried to take off the mask as well, but when my fingers touched it they pretty much quit all together. My face itched; it itched so much lately.

It took a moment for Engineer to answer, and when he did I almost felt bad for saying anything at all. He sounded fatigued. "Alright little buddy."

I waited for him to say more. He waited too long to continue.

"When we get back to the base I'm going to sit you front of the doc and see what he can do. He ain't some psychologist but he may be able to help."

I've heard very similar words when I was a kid. "By help do you mean stuff shit loads of pills down my throat?"

"Hmm?"

"That probably would help, anyway. Anything would."

"Uhh, alright then." I hate repeating myself so I didn't.

I flicked at a lighter I hadn't realized I had hidden in my pocket till now. Engineer fidgeted. "And another thing Pyro, where am I dropping you off?"

Oh.

"I hope you don't mind, I, I'm not really comfortable with anyone-"

"Yeah, I get it. You don't want me to set your house on fire and shit."

"I hope you understand."

"I just said I did."

~No doubt exists that all women are crazy; it's only a question of degree.

~W. C. Fields

I had him drop me off at some motel and I stayed there for four and a half weeks. It was a cheap no-questions-asked type place, and it wasn't too bad. I got away with wearing a mask whenever I went out, but of course, people stared and pointed. I didn't go out much.

Out of the four and a half weeks of break, I remember a whopping two of them.

The memory gaps hadn't ever been that long. I think.

...

When the air got a bit frosty -frosty for Texas anyway- I got a letter from RED, and two days later was catching a train to a place called the Well. The train stopped in the battlefield, so no more of that "having to be picked up in the middle of a desert" bullshit. In fact, The Well wasn't in the desert at all. It was more north, north enough that it stays at a nice fall temperature of 50-60 and has green hills outside of the area.

Well was better than Tuefort.

And it was at least 35% less flammable.

A couple of days before the fighting began I went to see the medic, like Engineer requested. I didn't need him to force me to do it either. I wasn't a fucking child.

I was given the "I vill try to help, but Pyro please understand I'm not certified in this field blah blah blah" talk. And of course, he told me "nothing has to leave this room, but with your permission I would like to tell Herr Engineer-"

"I don't need him to play parent for me. I'm in my freaking twenties, okay?"

He raised an eyebrow. Even if he didn't know what I was saying, he got my tone. He then said a bit too nicely for a guy who was just yelled at, "Pyro, he simply seems the most willing to help you. I was simply going to tell him about any medication you are appointed so he can remind you to take it. I see that is not going to be an option now." I expected him to mutter verrückt or Schwein of dummkof or whatever the hell else he calls us under his breath. He didn't.

"Oh."

"Of course," he picked up a bird that sat on the exam table as delicately as one would a small child, and put it in a cage. "You may not be given anything. If I can't think of anything that may help, then you will have to see a professional."

"Ok."

"Engineer has confronted me about some concerns and I've noticed many myself, but I vould like to hear everything in your words, Pyro. If you vere to take zhe mask off, ve could get started."

The whole appointment in Well's crappy infirmary lasted maybe thirty minutes, but a lot of that was sitting awkwardly and working up the courage to take my mask off. Medic had a lot of patience - patience he didn't have the last time I saw him for an appointment. It bugged me.

It was too out of character for him.

Yeah, people who are trying to help the mentally ill are generally a bit nicer to them and all that shit, but it's a fake kindness. Plastic. It's the same plastic kindness that defined every doctor I've seen since I was a child, right back to the very first one I ever saw with a fake wig and fake smile.

Once the mask came off I ended up telling Medic about my most common hallucination; the greasy mother fucker I ran into at 15. I told Medic that I saw him all the time, and that I hated it. I told him about the memory gaps and blurry conception of time. I told him about my loathing of water.

I told him about my blueprints. I told him a bit about my firefighter, how he died, how I hallucinated, and how he's back. I told more than I should've.

He nodded along. At the end he dismissed me, said he had some calls to make. A day later he called me back in and prescribed to me a rainbow of different pills.

Sometimes I say the medication is even tougher than the illness.

~Sanya Richards-Ross

The next day I felt weird. It was lunch time and I had taken my pills hours ago, and I just kinda sat in a chair in the kitchen and fiddled with a lighter. It was weird. I wasn't hungry. Or tired. Or thirsty. Or even anxious. That wasn't a new thing, but I couldn't help but feel like maybe I should be hungry or thirsty or worried or something. I hadn't eaten since the day before and I didn't sleep that night and the battle was starting tomorrow. I should've been worried about it, but no.

It was weird but I couldn't tell why. I forgot to eat and what not all the time.

I'd been sitting in that damn chair for hours and I didn't even feel bored. When Demo came in for the fourth time that hour to rummage through the fridge again he noticed something was up. He got out leftover mysterious meat and said "are ya bloody defective? Ye haven't moved all day, lad." He got me a cup of water and a straw and waved a hand in front of my mask. "Anyone in there?"

I took the water but there wasn't any way to squeeze it into my mask filters. "Yeah."

"...Take care of yourself, lad."

"Demo, are we friends?" I don't know why I said it. Like I said, I felt fucking weird.

"Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah lad. We all be friends."

He walked away and muttered something about 'pyroland.'

And then I realized something. I was always this weird. The drugs weren't messing me up. I was messing me up.

I took the water and went back to my room.

I didn't see a thing that day, so I knew the drugs were working, but that night I dreamed. Really lucid dreaming too. I dreamt of my mother and my Firefighter.

I decided that sleep wasn't worth the dreams and got up to go wander around the base. Maybe I'd visit Engie's workshop and see if he's still awake. He had started turning on his radio to some station that tells short pulp fiction stories, he says he likes them for background noise.

I liked them. It took some effort to put the suit and mask on. Then I went to the cafeteria for a glass of water. Just outside of the cafeteria was the hallway which leads out of the living quarters and into the rest of the base, which was to be used when fighting. The door into the rest of the base was open so I closed it.

Heavy has a hard enough time squeezing through all the doors so sometimes he forgets to shut them. Not a big deal.

When I arrived at the workshop the lights were off. I went in anyway because, by luck, the doors weren't locked. Engineer always locked it when he left - he hated the idea of anyone, even me, inside his workshop when he wasn't there. I get it, and I would do the same.

Well's workshop was a bit different than Tuefort's. The walls were painted a shale color and lined with posters that could've been fifty years old, the floor was brick, and the only window had not blinds, but bars over it. It was homey enough for me. I wandered over to a shelf and rummaged around for something to read. I found something about the mexican-american war that looked half interesting and tried to read it. Reading always was too mundane to me, but hey, it was better than nothing. Better than sleep.

Five minutes in I got bored and debated whether or not to turn on the radio. But eventually I decided that someone might hear me, and then it'd be weird to have to explain what I was doing in Engie's workshop in the middle of the night.

When I was about to leave I found something to make me stay. One of the doors to a desk was open, only barely, but enough for me to notice. I only really noticed because of a paper that sat inside. I looked in. It was a blueprint. They were way different than any I ever made on my own, way more complicated and coded. I put them back and shut the drawer.

I was bored but too scared and anxious to sleep. Those kinds of feelings were open doors for hallucinations. Mainly the Greasy Man, but sometimes the little candy-colored horse too. I didn't see jack-shit.

And that was more than fine with me. If the medication were to mess with my sleep but make me sane, I'd take it. Eventually I got bored of the workshop and decided to go back to my quarters.

On the way back to my room I took the time to appreciate how many smoke detectors the base had. Someone had been thinking of me.

And then I smelled smoke. Not the smoke you get when someone's burning something, the kind you get when someone has a cigarette. Not a cigar, definitely a cigarette. 'I could go for one of those.'

And then I felt weird again. The same kind of weird I felt earlier before I discovered it was all in my head. It was a nauseous weird. I started walking through the living quarters of the base very slowly, but I didn't yet know what I was looking for.

Why Engineer's door was unlocked. Why a drawer with his own blueprints was open for just anyone to flipping see. Why the door to our domestic quarters was wide fucking open.

I was feeling beyond weird. Spooked maybe, the fight or flight part of my brain flicked on and off, even though there was nothing there to fight or to run from.

I felt straight up fucking murderous when I heard a spy de-cloak. I swung around instinctively, even though the sound didn't come from right behind me. It wasn't close at all, but I was trained to flip my shit when I heard that particular sound. I ran past the cafeteria and into the battlements room, grabbing my flamethrower and filling it with fuel with shaky hands.

Shit shit shit shit shit, spy in the base. I ran around the domestic quarters of the base five times, having to refuel four. On the fourth lap in the battlements I heard the sound of a sapper and I wondered what in the hell the spy was doing.

I didn't even take into consideration that it could've been our own spy.

The noise came from the respawn room. I scorched the walls looking for that spy but nothing was there.

Why was he in the respawn room? Why dear god there was so much stuff for a spy to mess up in a respawn room and in the resupply room, there was a reason spy's aren't allowed to fuck around in there.

Shit shit shit shit shit. In a split decision I decided to get everybody up. Loudly. They were not pleased. I couldn't get any good explanation out in time either. They took one look at the scorch marks on the walls and the flamethrower in my hand. They thought I tried to burn down the base again. Yeah. I can't blame them. They all had some words. At the same time. And I just couldn't explain myself. Couldn't squeeze in any words.

I felt small. Ashamed.

Medic called me into the infirmary. Engineer and Demo and Scout tried to follow. Medic sent Demo and Scout away. Good. I couldn't deal with too many people at once. One more and I would've popped.

"I take it zhe medicine isn't vorking."

"I thought he shoved antipsychotics down yer throat so this wouldn't happen."

"They worked fine, great even-"

"Sure."

"Damn it Engineer let me talk."

"Can't here a word yer sayin'."

"There was a spy in the base."

"Bullshit."

"Herr engineer-"

"No. This is downright-"

I interrupted him and tried to explain. When I got to the part about going into Engie's workshop and looking in a drawer he snapped. Privacy. Childish behavior. Invasion of space. Psychotic. Blah Blah Blah.

Engineer left mad. Can't blame him, my story really didn't look too good. It was just like when I pissed him off weeks earlier in the car.

Before I left and tried to squeeze anymore sleep out of the night (as if I could), Medic told me not to worry. The medication might need several more days to balance out. We wouldn't really know if it's working or not in such few days.

Hallucinations are still normal. Drugs don't work like a switch.

When I left the infirmary I believed him. I imagined the whole thing.

'I'm still batshit insane.'

...

The next day was when the fighting began and my new medication was really put to the test.

I babysat Engie and his sentry for a bit and wandered about our Intel room. He didn't really look at me. Or smile. Or anything really. He was still mad from the night before.

I didn't think anyone in the base would ever treat me the same again, but at the same time I wasn't freaking out about it. I just didn't feel much on the matter. I kept myself distracted with other thoughts. Thinking pleasant thoughts was easier than it used to be.

I examined the Well's intel room while I could. It was big, bigger than Teufort's by a big deal and there were several more corners to hide in. I sprayed fire on every one, and every time I turned around and tried to walk off it still felt like something was hiding there. Behind me.

And I turned with a spurt of fire. Nothing. Engie rose from his spot behind his sentry and I started walking back to refill my flame thrower before I wandered off. Four steps and I thought someone was behind me. I whirled around and sprayed more fire. Nothing.

"What the hell are you doin' down there?" Engie shouted from above. His voice echoed through the room. I walked to him a couple of steps so I wouldn't have had to yell as loud. My footsteps echoed.

He talked before I could say anything. "Yer jumpier than a pig in slaughter season. Scaring yourself with your own footsteps huh?" He let out a couple of brisk laughs. They were good-natured, but it took me a moment to get it.

I realized my footsteps were echoing. I scoffed at myself for a split second- not something I can always do, and waved Engineer off.

I walked away. Everything would be okay.

…

I ran into the other demo and lost a whole fucking arm. I kinda just flopped to the ground and decided to let myself bleed out (it wouldn't take long). When I closed my eyes I thought of my firefighter. Medic came around before I died and managed to bring me back. I gave him a thumbs up and ran off.

Well wasn't bad. The weather was nice. I decided I could grow used toit. I set off on offense and looked for the other pyro.

...

Towards the end of the day I found him. Navigating the courtyard between our bases, peppered in blood and gore. None of it was his own. I watched as he gunned down our scout and stuck and axe in his head.

The scout fell onto the train tracks. It often takes a while for respawn to pick up the bodies.

I stood twenty yards away, frozen, and even then could hear his breath heave through the mask. We watched each other for a minute before he wiped some scout off his axe and picked up his flame thrower. The pilot light flickered the way they do when they were almost out of gas. Mine did the same thing.

A combination of words fell out of his mask, sounding like a growl. Our last encounter probably fresh on his mind.

He didn't charge. He kinda just froze.

And so I begun to walk to him, stepping on the train tracks. Slow. Non-threatening.

And still we didn't attack each other. I said his name, not that he could tell, but he tilted his head sideways as if to say 'what?' God this was fucking difficult. I tried to press myself to say something. Anything. God I was fucking this up. I expected him to lunge forward and put an axe in my head at any second, that's what I would've done before I discovered who he was. My lips were glued.

'Say something you piece of shit.'

He beat me to it."Mhphhhhh?" It was hard to believe I sounded like that too.

I didn't know what he said or how to reply. So I didn't. Instead I punched him. Then I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed before he could swing the ax to my face or put a flare in my gut. Then I punched him again and again till I was beating him into the ground.

I was yelling at him the whole time. "You're supposed to be dead. Jackass. I thought you were fucking dead. I've gone for years..." He pushed me off of him and hit my face before reaching for one of the weapons lying on the ground. My face hurt. The mask cracked against my cheekbones and the plastic dug into my skin. More words choked out my throat before I could stop them. "I've gone for years thinking... you were dead. You, you know how fucked up I am?"

He lunged for his flame thrower but I kicked it away before his fingers could catch it. One of the dragon's teeth pierced my boot. He smacked me another good one and I could feel blood spill through my nostrils. Sucker could hit. I'd never seen him in a fistfight before.

He got me again but on a stroke of luck he tripped and I was able to push him down and hit him again. Gas masks aren't as fleshy as faces. My knuckles hurt. I was breathing like a goddamn horse and he was only breathing half as hard through dented filters.

"After all this shit... all this time... You've been fucking alive."

He couldn't have had any idea what I was saying but I mumbled on anyway. When I slugged him once more his mask cracked and I saw it fit to just tear it off. Most of it anyway. He snarled and with the mask off his voice felt deeper and raspy and familiar.

Red hair was plastered to his head with sweat and twisted marred skin engulfed the right half of his face. His eyes contained an anger I never thought I'd see directed at me. His nose was bloody too.

He had a lopsided scowl. I was looking at the face of my firefighter, touched by a couple years, and he was pissed. He pushed back and swung at my face, no doubt going for my mask like I did his.

It fucking hurt. My filter was digging into my skin hard enough to draw blood and my jaw was ready to crack.

He's a bit bigger. Built more like Soldier while I'm built closer to Scout. I'd probably been in more fistfights than him, but it didn't do me any damn good when he threw me off of him and onto my back, my spine bent over the train rail. He was on me in seconds, but instead of reaching for an axe or one of our shotguns laying on the ground he rammed his fist into my face again. The glass over my eye broke.

I hoped someone - from either team - would come in to end me or him so this wouldn't need to continue. No. No one did.

Instead of breaking my mask over my face like I did his he just tore mine off. He threw it. Our unmasked eyes met for the first time in years.

Yeah. This had to be a big shock for him too. I was supposed to be six feet under. Executed.

The violence stopped immediately, like someone flipped a switch. His eyes went real wide and then dull. His snarl turned into disbelief then maybe panic. He muttered something. I didn't hear it. I spit a glob of blood in his face. Don't know why, just kinda habit I suppose. He didn't bother to wipe it off, his face was already a mess. He didn't get up yet. He was frozen.

"..." He ran a thumb over the scarring on the left side of my face as if to check if it was really there. If it was really me.

We took no more than three seconds to catch our breath before a train came and hit us both.

This time death didn't feel quite right.

...

I respawned with a slightly dented mask and a pierced boot. The headache came soon after, along with a nose that didn't really hurt, but felt wet with something that definitely wasn't snot. I think it took a moment for me to identify that I was alive. It took me another moment to realize that everyone was there. Everyone was either in the respawn room or in the doorway. They all had some hollow look on their face, and they were staring at me without words. God I hate the staring. After a night like last night, it was expected, but this was different.

They weren't ready for battle. Half of them weren't wearing any gear at all. No weapons. They looked sad. Shocked.

"…Jesus shit man, you scared us." Scout was the first one to talk.

Sniper spoke up. "Thought you were gone for good at this point."

"Oui."

"What?"

No answer. I love it when people don't answer me.

Engineer, who looked more tired than anything else, tired beyond his years, kneeled by the wall with various tools at his feet. A panel of the wall was removed. Wires poked out. He was working on the respawn machine and by the sweat lining his brow and under his arms you could tell he was having one hell of a tough time with it.

Medic came over to me in three large steps and looked like he wanted to strip and study me right there as if I was a specimen in a science class.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Pyro, man..."

Soldier started, "Private! You have been AWOL for-"

Heavy shushed him while he spoke. "Pyro was dead."

Yeah. That's so fucking helpful. That only happens a hundred times a week. "Why- what the hell are you staring at!?"

"The fight ended hours ago." Spy stated.

"You've been caught up in respawn for four hours, Pyro. You were gone, we couldn't fix it and we thought you were really gone. It just... glitched."

My blood ran so cold it turned to ice. The hair on the back of my neck didn't just stand up - it jumped.

The noise came from the respawn room. Why was he in the respawn room. Why dear god there was so much stuff for a spy to mess up in a respawn room and in the resupply room.

It didn't just glitch.

"I've known since midday that it vasn't vorking right, when I died it took almost an hour. I suppose the vord didn't reach you in time..."

"We've been hiding in base nearly all day. Major defense. We didn't want to take risks."

Engineer got up and slapped his hand over my back. I guess we were on good terms again. "I've been working like a dog four hours to see if I could fix that damn thing. I was worried you weren't comin' out."

"Glad you're safe."

My throat was hoarse but not sore. "Yeah..." My face hurt.

"Someone go inform the administrator of the situation."

My head pounded.

"Oi got it."

I brushed my hand against my leg. It stung. My knuckles were still bruised. Respawn didn't fix much for me. Lucky it fixed me at all I suppose. My head was starting to feel thicker and thicker - like it would after any normal fistfight. As the seconds droned on I felt like I had just taken the beating of a lifetime. I didn't even ask Medic to fix me up with his medigun, even though I needed it.

I dismissed myself quickly after I realized I wouldn't be able to stand much longer. Took my medicine. Shed the suit and went to bed.

…

I dreamed of the greasy man from all those years ago.

I dreamed my mother. Of my father.

I dreamed of the gas station blowing up. Of the burn clinic. Of the first time I saw my best friends face, and the last. I thought up every memorable conversation we had and every stupid trip to the diner we took.

And then I didn't dream.

Sorry for how long this took to update, and thanks for those who are reading. Really. Have a fantastic day.