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Morning light spilled through the windows, painting golden stripes across the floor
The RED team ate breakfast without hurry, savoring the quiet after their morning drills
Pyro sat at the far end of the table - fully suited up as always - hunched over a notebook, sketching something in pencil
The soft scratching of graphite went unnoticed
At least until Sniper showed up, coffee in one hand, a piece of toasted bread in the other
He sat down beside Pyro, took a slow sip, and glanced at the drawing
“Sleep alright, mate?” he asked quietly, like he didn’t want the others to notice he was talking. Typical Sniper
Pyro looked up and gave him a thumbs-up. Sniper smiled
Ever since that attack, the two had fallen into the habit of these small talks - wordless, calm, familiar
“You’re awful quiet today” Sniper muttered after a moment, noticing the absence of Pyro’s usual soft humming
Pyro just shrugged
Sniper bit into his bread. He really needed more sleep. That incident had messed with his whole rhythm
When breakfast ended, he started heading back to his room - until Medic stopped him mid-step
“Ready for ze check-up?” the doctor asked with that perpetual grin
“Yeah, yeah” Sniper sighed, heading toward the infirmary
The worst part about recovering from that lunatic’s attack wasn’t the pain - it was the weekly exams
Medic always had to check the healing process, run scans, take blood, whatever
If it were up to Sniper, he’d have ditched the whole routine weeks ago
Pyro was already waiting outside the medbay, legs swinging off the edge of a chair
He looked up when the door opened and Sniper came out, pressing a bit of cotton to the crook of his arm
They exchanged a small nod - Pyro went in without a word and sat on the examination table
“You know ze procedure” Medic said, prepping the syringe
Pyro removed one glove, tugging up the sleeve of his suit just enough to expose his arm
The needle slipped in with practiced precision
“Hmmm… fascinating” Medic murmured, leaning in slightly
When it was done, he pressed cotton to the spot, jotting something down in his notebook - and writing longer than usual before letting Pyro leave
The rest of the day passed quietly
No trouble
No worries
But peace never lasts long in places like this
Medic began gathering the team
One by one, he called them into a closed briefing room
Sniper leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching everyone carefully. He hadn’t exactly been busy, but he still resented being dragged away from birdwatching
The others took seats where they could. Scout perched on the edge of a counter
“Where’s Pyro?” Engineer asked
“He’s not supposed to be here” Medic replied immediately, locking the door. Everyone exchanged uneasy looks
“What’s goin’ on, Doctor?” Heavy rumbled
Medic hesitated, as if weighing every word. Then he pulled a few papers from his clipboard
“Pyro’s blood type does not match”
“…What?”
“I double-checked ze samples - three times! It’s not an error”
“So someone’s impersonating our Pyro?”
“Most likely. Ze question is - for how long?”
“And where’s the real one?”
They looked at each other, silent, uneasy
The thought that their friend might’ve been replaced without anyone noticing - it stung deep
“But who’d do that?” Scout blurted “BLU Spy? Some freak experiment?”
“Could be another Classic” Soldier suggested darkly “Their Heavy wanted revenge, and after Pyro and Sniper took him down…”
Sniper’s hand went to his neck unconsciously - still remembering the crushing grip from that fight
“Other than the blood” he said quietly “got any proof?”
“Blood types don’t just change, mein Freund” Medic insisted “And I noticed something else during ze exam… Pyro never shows more skin than necessary, ja? But near the vein I used - there are moles, cut clean by a scar. In the shape of a percent sign”
He sighed, looking at the others
“I didn’t notice it during the exam” Medic said, pacing a little “Thought I was imagining things. Figured it was just on the other arm and ignored it-until I saw the blood results”
“So what do we do?” Scout asked, shifting on his seat
“The best option,” Medic replied, “would be to catch and question them. If they don’t know we know-zey von’t try to run.”
“And where, exactly?” Engineer frowned. “This base ain’t built for interrogations.”
“That room near the cold storage” Spy suggested smoothly, exhaling smoke. “Where we kept Demoman after.. Remember?”
Demoman rolled his eye but gave a resigned nod
“Ah, fine. Least the locks’re outside”
“Then we move quickly” Medic concluded
Sniper still hadn’t moved from the wall. Arms crossed, eyes shadowed
“Something wrong, Herr Sniper?” Medic asked, glancing his way
“It’s just… he acts like our Pyro” Sniper said quietly. His voice was steady, but there was tension behind it - a tired, cracking note of doubt
“Then he’s playin’ the part well” Spy replied, lighting another cigarette “That’s the thing about infiltration. You act, move, speak as they do. For the mission, you are them. The rest - doesn’t matter”
Sniper didn’t answer. His jaw tightened
He’d gotten to know Pyro better, after the attack. Closer than he expected
And now someone was pretending to be him?
He was a Sniper
He was supposed to notice things
He should’ve seen it
He should’ve known
Meanwhile, Pyro sat on the floor of “his” room, sketching something that looked like a self-portrait
Every line was careful, deliberate - each one placed like it mattered
He tilted his head now and then, judging proportions
The quiet was… nice
Then came the knock. Firm
Then Engineer’s voice
He hesitated - then put down the pencil and walked to the door
Opened it
Nearly the whole team stood there
Pretending it was casual - but there were too many of them
For a second, instinct told him to step back
Instead, he nodded slightly, as if everything was normal
They asked him to come along
He followed
But with each step, it felt tighter - the hallway, the air, the space between their shoulders
Some walked ahead. Some behind
The silence pressed in, thick as smoke
Until they stopped at the heavy doors
No one spoke
They just gestured inside
Pyro looked at them - at the averted eyes, the restless hands, the guilt flickering on their faces
He had no choice
He stepped inside
The doors clanged shut behind him
He was alone
He moved to the farthest wall and sat down. His arms trembled
Had he done something wrong?
The room was cold. Concrete walls reflected the harsh yellow of the ceiling light, throwing long, warped shadows across the floor
He sat there for what felt like an hour, staring at nothing - lost in the kind of silence that made your heartbeat sound too loud
The door swung open with a metallic screech
A few of the mercs stepped inside, lining up near the entrance
The rest stayed by the doorway, watching him closely
"WHERE IS HE?!" Soldier barked without preamble, his voice echoing off the concrete walls
Pyro didn’t answer. His head tilted slightly, like he didn’t even understand the question
“No need to pretend” Medic hissed, arms crossed. “We know you’re not our Pyro”
Engineer didn’t speak. His stare was sharp as a scalpel, notebook open in his hands. Every move the “Pyro” made was carefully logged, like he was studying a faulty machine
“Unless your blood suddenly decided to grow antibodies overnight” Engie muttered “you ain’t him. So where is he?”
Pyro just stared, head slightly tilted, eyes hidden behind dark glass
“He ain’t talkin’. So what now?” Scout asked, fidgeting nervously
Soldier slammed his fists on the table, the sound like a gunshot. Pyro flinched hard, pressing himself back against the wall, body trembling
The air grew heavier, anger slowly draining into unease
“…He’s scared” Engie said quietly to the others
“He’s scared because he knows we found him out!” Soldier snapped back
“That don’t look like actin’” Engie replied, eyes fixed on the shaking hands of their “impostor”
Outside, the clock ticked loudly
Eight people stood in silence, trying to decide what to do next
Meanwhile, deep in the woods somewhere
An old shack stood half-collapsed under the weight of moss and rusted tin
The wind brushed gently through the tall grass
No one ever came here
No one even knew it existed
Except them.
On a flat stone outside, a Pyro in a blue suit sat hunched over, drawing lines in the dirt with a stick
Everything about him said he was waiting
He sighed
The ground was damp from the morning mist - soft enough to draw on
A childish doodle of a smiling flame looked back at him from the dirt
But Pyro didn’t smile
He just… waited
And waited
When the first rays of dawn crept through the trees, he stood up suddenly, leaving the drawing behind, and stepped into the shack
The air inside smelled of dust, old wood… and something familiar
Two hooks hung from the wall
On them - two suits
One a deep, blood-red
The other a cold, silent blue
He stood before them for a long moment
Then, wordlessly, he stripped off his own gear and changed
No hesitation
No thought
Just action
He zipped up the red suit, tightened the straps, and straightened the harness
Now, he looked like any other member of RED Team
Without a word, he stepped out of the shack, not looking back even once. He moved through the tall grass like a shadow, silent and sure
He knew every inch of the base ahead - every blind spot, every hidden path, every dead camera feed
This wasn’t enemy territory to him
This was home
He ducked behind a crate the moment he heard muffled voices down the hall
Silent. Still. Listening
“What if it is really him?”
“No chance. Pyro wouldn’t flinch from us like that”
“Maybe he’s flinchin’ ’cause you locked him up and started yellin’ without explainin’ a damn thing?”
The voices faded
His eyes narrowed behind the mask
They’d found him
They knew
But there was still time
He could still do something
This was his stage
And he knew exactly where every actor stood
The room felt smaller by the minute - not in reality, but in the way the air pressed against his chest
He knew nothing was changing, but the hours spent in a room with no handle clawed at the back of his mind
He wanted to pull off the mask, just to breathe properly
But he didn’t know when someone might walk in
Better not
He didn’t try to speak
Didn’t try to explain
Would they even believe him if he did?
Would they believe someone they already saw as a threat?
He remembered the words - “We’ll get the truth outta him one way or another” And curled tighter into himself
Was he really a stranger to them?
Even after all the stories he’d heard, the laughter he’d memorized, the smell of their kitchen, the rhythm of their footsteps?
He knew who hummed under their breath, who left half-empty tea mugs on the table, who laughed late because they were still translating the joke in their head
But to them - he was no one
The mask hid the tears
That didn’t mean they weren’t there
What if he never got out?
What if he never made it back?
It had to be a mistake
A misunderstanding
They’d sort it out
They had to
So he waited
Watched the door
Waited some more
When the door finally shuddered - his body tensed
The light from the hall was too bright to see clearly, but he recognized the silhouette instantly
RED Pyro stood there, hand reaching out
Their eyes met, even through two identical masks
For a moment, the world stopped
Relief hit so sharp it almost hurt
Maybe they wanted to speak. Maybe they wanted to laugh, or apologize, or say something simple like “I knew you’d come”
And maybe the other would’ve answered, “Of course”
But they didn’t need words
Not now
One reached out, the other took the hand - a firm, certain grip - and together they stepped out of the room
No words
No noise
Just movement
Even if the world outside was still hostile, this was their rhythm
Their dance
And they understood each other perfectly
They slipped out through a hidden passage they’d marked long ago - a narrow, unused door that opened toward the overgrown meadow near the woods
Two red-clad silhouettes walking side by side, heading for their secret refuge
The old shack didn’t look like much, but it had become their place - safe, quiet, forgotten
Once inside, they closed the door behind them
They stood face to face for a moment, then almost at the same time, lifted off their masks with a soft, familiar click
RED Pyro dropped his gaze, hands coming together in a silent apology
He didn’t have the words for it - didn’t even know how to move his hands to say all that needed saying
BLU Pyro watched him for a while, then stepped forward, gently taking his hands
“I’m not mad” he said softly “None of us could’ve known what’d happen if the teams ever found out about the switch”
He paused, thinking, searching for words
“But I don’t wanna play like that anymore. I’m not gonna pretend to be you again”
The air between them hung heavy with understanding
They both knew why - the REDs would be cautious now. Watching. Testing. Suspicious. No one wanted to risk hurting either of them
RED Pyro nodded slowly
Then they hugged - a quiet, desperate kind of embrace, like they were trying to burn the memory of this moment into their skin
Trying to forget the fear they’d just escaped
Trying to remind themselves of something good
After a long while, they stepped back
Time to go home
Each to his own base, his own color, his own small world orbiting around his team
They traded a few quick stories - a summary of days survived - then parted ways with one last wave
By the time lunch rolled around, RED Pyro sat at the mess hall table with a steaming cup of tea
His mask was lifted just enough to sip comfortably, sketchbook open beside him as he idly flipped through the pages
The door opened
Sniper walked in without a word, heading straight for the coffee machine. Once his cup was filled, he turned - and froze for just a second when Pyro waved at him
He waved back
No hostility, just curiosity
The two of them sat quietly, steam rising from their drinks - the kind of silence that felt lighter than a thousand words
Then the door slammed open
Medic and Spy burst in, both looking furious
“The cell is empty!” Spy barked
“Zis is impossible! He couldn’t ’ave left from ze inside! Someone must have broken in!”
Their sharp gazes landed squarely on Pyro, who blinked up at them over his tea. As more teammates crowded in, the room filled with tension
“You! How did you get out?! Sniper, did you help him?”
Sniper started to stammer something - but Pyro set his cup down, grabbed the edge of his mask, and pulled it off completely
His voice was hoarse from disuse
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
Medic frowned “Show me your arm”
Pyro tilted his head but obeyed, holding it out
The doctor examined it carefully - the small mark, the strange symbol - but there was no trace of a needle puncture
“Vait… I took ze blood from zis arm, ja?” Medic muttered, half to himself
“You didn’t take any blood” Pyro rasped. “You seemed kinda spaced out, but I figured that’s just how it goes with you. Why?”
“...Nothing” Medic said quickly, stepping back
Pyro replaced his mask, leaving it just slightly lifted to finish his tea
The rest of the day, the team tore through the base - checking cells, labs, hallways
Nothing missing
No signs of a break-in
No evidence of anyone coming or going
Everything was normal
At least, that’s what they told themselves
The only thing they found was a loose valve on one of Medic’s gas tanks - the kind that could cause hallucinations if inhaled for too long
And since nothing had gone missing, everyone slowly came to the same conclusion: they must’ve had a collective hallucination
None of them wanted to believe it, but all the evidence pointed that way
So they did
And if Pyro happened to sleep a few hours less that night, quietly fixing and hiding everything that needed fixing and hiding - well, that was his secret to keep
Days later, when the sun was setting and the sky melted into deep shades of gold and purple, two Pyros lay side by side in the grass
No masks
Just faces, bare to the cooling air
They stared up at the clouds drifting lazily above them, surrounded by wildflowers swaying in the breeze
“Weird, ain’t it?” BLU Pyro muttered “We’ve switched places so many times before, and it all fell apart just ‘cause you’ve got some rare blood type”
RED Pyro chuckled, finding BLU’s hand in the grass and giving it a light squeeze
“You think you’ll ever tell ‘em?”
“...I dunno”
He sighed softly. He hadn’t expected his team to turn so hostile - and he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell them, not while they were still doubting whether any of it even really happened
They both kept their eyes on the clouds
“Wish we could just stay here forever” BLU murmured, “watching the sky”
RED nodded
They both knew it wasn’t possible
Sooner or later, they’d have to go back
Back to their bases
Back to their teams
But not yet
Not just yet
For a little while longer, they could just… stay
And watch the sky
Then
A sound
Soft, but clear
Footsteps
Both of them jerked up, instincts kicking in instantly
Hands grabbed whatever weapon was within reach
They didn’t even bother pulling their masks back on
A figure stepped out from between the trees
Tall.Hat.Sunglasses.
RED Sniper froze mid-step, eyes wide - just like theirs
For a long, breathless second, the three of them simply stared at one another
Then, slowly, they lowered their weapons
“I... wasn’t sure” Sniper started awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck “But somethin’ didn’t add up, and I figured… well, maybe I oughta meet you. If that’s alright, I mean. I can bugger off if it’s not”
The two Pyros just stared at him in shock for a moment
Then they looked at each other and almost at the same time, they smiled and nodded
“Hi! You can call me Bloom” BLU Pyro said brightly “I’ve been hangin’ around your lot these last few days”
“Mick. Nice meetin’ ya” Sniper replied, shaking his hand
Their grips were careful, unsure- but genuine
RED Pyro chuckled suddenly, and both of them raised their eyebrows
“What’s so funny, mate?” Sniper asked
“It’s just…” Pyro’s voice came out soft and amused “We all got names that sound like puns. Bloom’s from BLU, I’m Pairo Pyro you’re Mick… Mundy”
That pulled a laugh out of both of them
It fit, somehow- like they’d been meant to find each other all along
If this went on much longer, they’d probably come up with some ridiculous name for their trio
After a while, the three of them sat back down on the grass, watching the sky together
Sniper smiled quietly to himself
His first real friend on the team was alive- and the impostor who’d taken his place had become another friend entirely
From that day on, Sniper started staying a little longer at the table with Pyro
And Pyro started putting a little more water in the kettle
They were told, when they first took the job
Don’t get attached
But who ever really listens to those old rules, anyway?
Deep in the woods, the little shed still stood- humble and ordinary to any passerby
Inside hung two Pyro suits, one red, one blue
Even if they didn’t use them much these days, they were kept clean, ready
Maybe one day, they’d both put on red suits again, walk straight into the base hand in hand, and flip the rest of the mercs the bird
Who knows
But that day wasn’t today
Today, there was a third hook on the wall- and on it hung a hat and a pair of sunglasses, saved for special occasions.
After all even a tango can be danced by three
Through smoke they dance, their hearts the same
No need for words, no need for fame
A third unmasks, joins hand in hand
Together they dance, and understand