Inspired by Meet the Pyro.


Overwhelming fear was the only recognizable emotion through the thick smog of flame and ruin. If it had been any other case, the German doctor would have been ashamed to be cowering behind a group of barrels while an enemy raged outside with glee only a maniac could own. However, this was no normal maniac, and these were no normal circumstances. This was the Pyromaniac of RED, and there was absolutely no explanation of why the hell-bringer had shown up, how they had gotten to the small village in the first place, and what brought about the traumatizing events to follow their arrival.

The wrath evoked in the village was nothing he or any of his teammates had ever seen from the enemy. Whatever had set off the maniac, the brutality and hunger for bloodshed was nothing like they had seen before, even on the battlefield. And it happened so fast. Everyone scattered like frightened sheep, and all hope for a coordinated attack was lost.

For all the Medic had known, the whole RED team should have already been stationed at Dustbowl, awaiting the opposing team's arrival for the battles to begin. He had been the first one to notice the RED Pyro entering the town, walking slowly and quietly. The Medic remembered being in a conversation, but what it had been about escaped his jumbled mind. He recalled going silent suddenly with confusion, narrowing his eyes at the approaching RED. The rest of the team noticed along with him as he trailed off.

None of them had thought to be scared.

That had been their biggest mistake.

Not that they could have known what was coming. They watched in silence as the figure almost casually drifted to the side of the street, placing a gloved hand on the old wood of one of the houses. The group exchanged looks. The moment everyone began to get slightly worried was when the Firebug hoisted up his weapon and began to spray flames onto the buildings.

Everything was blurred and frantic after that; the Medic's mind was jumbled. The hollow lenses had come to rest on the group of nine, strangely threatening and full of blood-lust. It stepped forwards. Parts of the group hesitantly stepped backwards.

The glances exchanged were no longer looks of confusion. There was a glimmer of nervousness in all of their eyes. Respawn did not protect the group outside of the battlefield. This was staring into the face of death.

The Pyro had chased after them as the group hurriedly disbanded. The Scout was the first to make a run for it, the Sniper uselessly trying to call him back. The Spy stared with controlled but anxious eyes, looking to the rest of the group questionably.

The Pyro had stepped closer. Wispy breaths from under the mask echoed around the suddenly quiet town. They retreated further as the Pyro began spurting flames warningly. The Engineer looked about as nervous as the Spy. He was the one to speak up first, the Medic remembered, suggesting to follow the Scout. There was another painful silence as they were herded farther and farther into the town made of what may as well have been kindle. As the RED slowed to a stop, flamethrower limp, all eyes were on the monstrosity.

The lenses flashed menacingly, flamethrower suddenly hoisted up over the Pyromaniac's head, laughter seeping from the gasmask like liquefied lava. As the Pyro suddenly bolted forward towards them, everything about sticking together in a crisis and teamwork flew out the window, all hell breaking loose.

They had all run in different directions, toward whatever shelter they could find.

The Medic could already smell smoke seeping into the shed he had found. Crackling flames laughed at him from outside, and he knew it would be a matter of time before the whole town burnt to the ground. Another figure sat next to him, taking slow breaths, not unlike someone who had already accepted their fate. The Spy and Medic had happened to come to the same place. The Medic felt a bit bad for scaring the Spy half to death as he had entered, the man had burned to death enough times to begin with.

Thankfully, besides the sounds of burning wood from outside there had been no screaming. Yet. The two sat in silence, leaning against the wall idly. They both knew staying would assure their deaths. Either the Pyro would find them, or the flames would eat up the shed along with them. The Medic looked to the Frenchman, who despite the fumes all around their hideaway, still exhaled smoke from his cigarette. He refused to make eye contact, or merely was too deep in his thoughts to notice.

"Spy," The Medic whispered quietly, the eerie crackling from outside triggering his cautious tone. The man barely responded, his head turning slightly towards the doctor. He was listening. In a low hiss, the German continued hurriedly. "Ve cannot stay here. zhe Pyro vill find us."

The two locked eyes, the Spy's dull with defeat. He shook his head slightly, staring blankly ahead. He spoke quietly. "Zhere is no way to get out now. He will find us, wherever we may 'ide... Dustbowl is miles from 'ere. Zhe van is probably no longer functional from the heat, maybe it caught on fire, I don't know." He murmured, motioning with his hand and flicking the but of the cigarette away from him. Smoke flowed from between his teeth.

"Nein," The Medic growled in response, fidgeting slightly to face the Spy more adequately. "Don't you see? There is one RED, and nine of us. Our mistake was splitting up, and ve must regroup to fight zhis threat. It is no different than any other battle." The Spy's unwillingness was irritating the Medic as he raised his voice slightly.

Catching the aggressive edge to the doctor's tone, the Spy spat back equally as angrily. "Zhis is no regular mission, you fool! Zhere is no respawn 'ere. We are not as invincible as you believe. I 'ave dealt with zhis enemy more times than a-"

The Spy suddenly froze, the Medic becoming equally as still. A bloodcurdling yell erupted not far from them, the voice deep and familiar. The Medic's eyes widened as he suddenly jumped up. Before the Spy could stop him, the doctor ran for the doors, pushing them open frantically. The Spy scrambled after the man, trying to pull him away from the outside world.

A call out caught in the Medic's throat as he looked ahead, two figures standing face to face. He made it just in time to see one fall, a familiar axe sticking out of the huge man's skull. There was a sickening sound as the body collapsed into the dirt. "Herr Heavy," He mumbled, not believing his eyes. The Russian was around twice the Pyro's size. Did he go down so easily?

"Doctor, please," The Spy hissed behind him, trying to pry his grip away from the door. "Let go, you imbecile!" But the Medic was not present. At least, not in the Spy's conversation. He watched in horror as the Pyro turned, looming over another figure that the doctor had not noticed the first time. The third silhouette was still alive, picking himself up and straitening from a crumpled heap on the dusty ground to standing up, stumbling backwards with fear and weakness. They were wearing a baseball cap.

The Medic was now trying to thrash out of the Spy's hold, the man wanting to rush to his teammate's aid, like he would have mere days ago on the battlefield. "Stop! Lass mich gehen!"

The Scout staggered again slightly as the Pyro rose a flare gun into the young man's face. With a shockingly bright flash it whizzed into the boy, sending him tumbling to the ground, the previous efforts he made to stand were in vain. The Pyro watched the limp body, flickering flames reflecting off the mask covering their face. He didn't get up.

"He is going to see you," The Spy whispered, making a last ditch effort to bring the Medic back.

"I.. I can't leave zhem to die," He murmured, torn. The Spy shushed him, pulling the doctor away more gently. This time he let himself be moved, the Spy bringing him quietly against the wall as the doors closed. He lowered them both down quietly, speaking quietly. "If you truly believe we can make zhis out of 'ere alive, I will follow you." There was a small silence between the two, time of taking in what they had seen and time of taking in the proportions of the situation.

Both of the men's heads turned abruptly as the crunch of gravel and rocks under boots echoed in front of the shed. As soon as the noise has started, it stopped, and despite the Spy's objections, the Medic stood, almost feeling like he was in a dream, he felt light and surreal. He made his way to the doors, even as a slight bang from the outside echoed. His face was intensely collected as he placed his hands to the doors again. The Spy was coming up behind him, about to pull him back again.

Pushing to doors open, he found that they merely stuck after about a foot of opening, a fire axe with the same blood belonging to his fallen comrade before him. Looking up, he saw the monstrosity that had committed the deed. Two blank lenses stared at him, and suddenly a canopy of light flooded his vision.


I know I should be updating my other stories before I start a new one, but I couldn't resist. Remember to review, I love feedback.

In German, "Lass mich gehen" means "Let me go."