I don't know if this will be fail format or not, as I pasted it from Word and this is my first time posting a story here.

This was created via madness IRL Roleplay with my buddies. Only I managed to Emo-fy it. oTL
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Pull the trigger. Run. Keep pulling. Don’t miss anything.

The action was imbedded into me like an unconscious mantra. They told me before I came out here to this God-forsaken place that if I didn’t do anything else, I had better damn well be the Engineer’s best friend, and the Spook’s worst enemy.

Even now, I don’t get along with our /own/ spy very well, but we have an unconscious agreement. We are bound only by our equal need and /desire/ to destroy our enemies. The entire team knows this, and the feeling is returned by those unfortunate bastards on the BLU team.

Day in and day out, it’s all we know anymore. But the monotonous feeling is always broken just before it surfaces. Like right now. The team’s Scout has just screamed. My eyebrow’s narrow under the dark surface of my standard-issue gasmask and I head off in the direction of his cry of pain, spraying deadly fire in my wake. I stop only to refill my gas canister from the level 3 dispenser by the doorway of our base before the courtyard comes into view.

I open my mouth to speak, knowing what I say will be useless and unheard, but it matters not, as our Engineer raises a powerful arm and cracks his wrench over the Scout’s head, his hat tipping off and landing partially crushed by the young man’s feet, which were currently pulled up near him as he sat on the ground an arm raised weakly for ‘protection’ against his assailant.

I roll my eyes and shift my stance, ready to walk away, when the lanky boy notices my presence. “Pyro!” he calls out weakly, and I turn to him again, taking in his disheveled state more rigorously than before. He certainly looks a mess. I wait for him to continue with whatever he needs to say and when he says it, my whole being is trained on that one request.

“Spy check!”

I raise my beloved backburner and walk over to the Engineer menacingly. He turns around then and I’m pretty sure his eyes are wide and frightened behind those tinted goggles of his. He steps back and stutters out a hasty, “Now, now, Pyro – You know it’s me here, right?”

I don’t listen, instead quickly dousing his body in fire. He screams, feeling as though his flesh is melting and not being able to do anything about it. I feel a little bad, but it’s my job, so I don’t truly care like I should. Burning people for a living isn’t good for your empathy, I’m sure.

I walk over to the Scout and offer my hand, pulling him up quickly. He holds his head in pain and seems to be quite dizzied from the blow (or two) to his skull, and he heads over to the Engie, kicking him in the shin and cursing him to high hell.

The two of them start shoving each other on the way to find our Medic, needing some pain killers for the damnable spy checks. They’re lucky, as he’s over by the dispenser, getting healed after a particularly harsh battle against the other team. We’ve obviously lost our Heavy to respawn and he’s none to pleased about it, giving the two idiots loathing looks as they come over to him.

“Dummkopfs! Learn to take Spy checks like men!” He hisses out through clenched teeth, waiting for the large Russian man to head back downstairs. I’m silently hoping he won’t notice me, as I’m more resistant to spy checks than my team mates. This is when my thick hazmat suit comes in handy. Alas, my hopes are dashed and he looks over at me with great distaste. It’s my fault so many of us come to him, after all.

He beckons me forward with a gloved finger, red as the blood that so often stains them and I glare at him behind the dark lenses of my mask, refusing to budge. He takes a few steps forward and grabs the edge of my flamethrower, yanking me forward with it as he takes out his highly valued ubersaw.

“Fck!” I curse, loathing this place even more at this time.

As I’m still being dragged forward, he stabs me, my torso becoming impaled roughly on the sharp tips of his weapon. He leans forward, his expression now a deadly smirk.

“You vill feel zis…” he murmurs next to the mask, his words sharp enough to vut through the thick material. “But your health bar von’t.”

I growl lowly, shoving him away with my free hand and wincing at the sharp pain of the ubersaw ripping it’s way back out of my chest.

“Ah ‘ate ‘oo.” I tell him, grabbing my axe and lifting it above my head, imbedding it heavily into his shoulder. I’m not lying, either. These people are all crazy bastards, myself included. I have to be to put up with these guys, though.

Pain day in and day out, unleashing our aggressions under the false guise of Spy checking. It’s sickening. But you know…

A shimmer off to the side causes me to turn and spray flames at the intruder, the sickening smell and scream making me feel a little more relaxed, despite it all.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.