To say that Pyro was secretive would be stating the obvious.
RED or BLU, the team didn't matter: each and every member knew. It wasn’t something spoken about in hushed tones behind locked doors. It wasn't even something unspoken, a secret held between fleeting glances across the battlefield, something they knew but never said out loud. It was loud, obvious even, but louder yet was the team’s curiosity for what lay under the suit. Was Pyro’s skin charred, burned into an unrecognizable crisp of flesh? Was their skin soft and pristine, not a scar or blemish to be found? The color of their hair, their eyes, the very question of their gender was a secret privy only to Pyro.
Pyro’s secrets stretched past those they held at a distance, wrapping around Engineer like a vice. Even he knew little to nothing about the elusive firebug, and it ate at him like a buzzard. On nights when nothing happened, nights where Engineer was left alone in his workshop, those thoughts corrupted him like a computer virus. Blueprints were quickly abandoned, sentries left unfinished, inventions left to collect dust. His thoughts, his very mind , were occupied by ideas, horrible and beautiful ideas of what Pyro kept hidden.
What were they so afraid of showing?
The air inside of Engineer’s workshop was stale, the summertime heat making it unbearable to move. Fans whirred loudly, drowning out the crickets and frogs outside the open workshop windows. It was too hot to work, too hot to move, too hot to do anything. Even the simple movement of his chest rising and falling, air entering and exiting his lungs, felt like a massive exertion of effort.
Engineer shifted, rolling onto his side, the sheets sticking to his sweat-coated skin. A low grumble left his throat, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to quiet his mind and get some much-needed sleep.
His thoughts, however, wouldn’t quiet.
Thoughts of what lay under Pyro’s mask ran circles in his head, taunting him, picking at his resolve. Engineer grunted in annoyance as the thoughts swam faster and faster, possibilities near endless, each one more unrealistic than the last.
It was almost enough to drive him mad. He knew so much about Pyro, but in the grand scheme of it all, he barely knew anything. Engineer often wondered what it would be like to put his hand on the firebug’s shoulder and ask them downright why they didn’t trust him enough to be vulnerable, to take off their mask, to be themself, but every time the words died in his throat.
Insecurity gnawed at him like a harvest mite, burrowing uncomfortably under his skin, planting seeds of doubt and worry.
Maybe he just wasn’t good enough.
Maybe he just needed to take things into his own two hands.
Engineer’s footsteps were quiet against the tile floors of the base as he crept through the winding halls. The air was quiet, as if the universe itself knew what he was about to do, and waited with baited breath to see the end. The halls seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning, but Engineer knew he would be reaching his destination soon. He knew the base better than he knew his sentries.
The smell of burnt wood and spent matches drifted to Engie in a wave, hitting him like a brick wall. He was close.
He came to a halt before a charred and paint-splattered door left slightly ajar. A hand-crafted and painted sign hung from a single nail, the edges slightly charred but otherwise in good condition. Engineer still remembered the day he had helped Pyro make and hang it up, his heart aching a little at the memory.
The metal of the doorknob was cold against Engineer’s palm, a stark contrast to the hot and stale air of the base. For a moment he hesitated, mouth set into a grimace.
Was he really going to invade Pyro’s privacy like this? Was this really something he was okay with doing, even if it might destroy their bond?
Was he really going to do this?
Yes. Yes he was.
Engie pushed the door open, flinching at the loud squeak that perforated through the air. A beat passed, with the only sound being faint snoring from down the hall. Engie pushed the door open the rest of the way, thankful the hinges were silent for once as he stepped into the dark room. Moonlight cascaded through the closed window, illuminating Pyro’s room with an eerie white glow.
Pyro’s room was just how Engineer remembered it, like a little time capsule that never seemed to weather. The pastel pink wallpaper was charred, peeling and crumbling into ash, causing the room to smell of smoke. Stuffed animals and toys were scattered messily across the floor with no rhyme or reason, various pyrokinetic tools tossed to the floor or propped up against the walls, the little pink tea party table Engie bought Pyro for Christmas one year covered in empty matchboxes. Pyro’s charred wooden bedframe was nestled in the corner, with Pyro sleeping atop the pile of blankets and pillows. They were curled around a plush unicorn nearly the size of the bed itself, something Heavy had won for Pyro at a carnival many years ago. The fur was worn and singed, stitches visible from where Medic had repaired it.
Engineer paused again, his grip on the doorknob tightening. Something about this felt… wrong. Not in a moral sense, but rather… foreboding. Like a dark cloud was looming over him, telling of a bad fate that would befall him.
He’d come this far, though. He couldn’t turn back anymore.
He was just following the path that had been laid out for him.
Engineer stared down at Pyro’s sleeping body, his heart sinking to his stomach. Something was wrong here. Something about the entire situation was wrong in a way that danced just out of his comprehension. Engineer wanted to turn around, to run, to forget he’d ever attempted this, but his hands seemed to move of their own accord. Engineer’s shaking hands slowly and carefully pulled the mask off of Pyro’s head, his breath catching in his throat with anticipation.
The mask fell from Engineer’s hands, making a loud thud against the floor as Engineer’s eyes widened.
Oh.
Oh.
Engineer’s mind struggled to process what lay in front of him, sliding out of the thick flame-retardant red suit. Whoever it was—whatever it was—spilled out onto the floor like a liquid, writhing and groaning softly. The pitch black liquid seemed to absorb the milky white moonlight like a sponge, pulsating like boiling water as it began to expand.
Engineer’s heart pounded against his chest like a cornered jackrabbit, his knees failing him as he fell backwards and onto his back. His head and eyes ached, like he had just stared into the sun, burning his retinas beyond repair. Black spots danced in his vision, something warm and wet creeping up his legs. Engineer barely had the strength to lift his head and look at the thing that had come out of Pyro’s suit, its writhing wet body enveloping him like thick molasses. Engie wanted to scream, to thrash, to struggle, but his limbs felt numb and heavy, like he was moving through water.
Thousands of milky white eyes tore through the thing slowly wrapping around Engie, a reverberating scream piercing through the air, shattering what little fight Engie had left. He let himself fall backwards, fall cushioned by the viscous thing, his eyes fluttering shut as thousands of claws pierced his skin and began to tear away his flesh.
Engineer couldn’t remember where he was, or what had happened. He could hardly remember how to open his eyes, let alone move. The only thing he knew for sure was that something warm and comforting had wrapped itself around him, cooing softly like a mother to a child. Warm and damp hands stroked his head and face, words being mumbled in a language he couldn’t understand. It reverberated through him, making his skin bubble, his mouth opening as a wet, desperate wail cut through the air.
Engineer’s eyes shot open.
That wasn’t his voice.
This wasn’t his room.
The memories of what he’d done and what had happened to him came crashing down like a tsunami. Whatever had happened, whatever that thing was, it had changed him.
The world seemed far too bright, his eyes aching. He could see too much, far too much, like he’d grown hundreds of eyes all over his body. For all Engie knew, he probably had.
Two gloved hands, hands that Engie could recognize anywhere, reached down and picked him up off the ground. The thing that had spilled out of Pyro’s asbestos-lined suit had crawled back inside of the thick red singed material, though the mask still lay discarded on the floor. All of its eyes blinked once, another strange noise reverberating out of it.
Engineer tried to open his mouth to say something, to shout for help, to do anything, but his mouth was incapable of forming words anymore. He couldn’t feel his tongue. He didn’t even seem to have a mouth.
A soft and miserable whine reverberated through his body as the thing began to scoop up his goopy red body, shoveling it into something that looked similar to Pyro’s suit—only it bore his signature symbol and clothing choices.
Whatever Pyro was, it… didn’t seem to want to hurt him any more than it already had.
Pyro pulled what looked like a welding helmet over Engineer’s head, the cold metal covering his entire head, molding his jelly-like flesh to the shape of a normal human head. Engie was too tired to fight, too tired to try and make any other noise. What was the point? Even if someone heard him, even if someone came, they’d likely try and kill him alongside Pyro.
Was that why Pyro had reformed him as a disgusting and fleshy monster? To have some sort of comradery? To have someone else like it?
Or was it just being cruel for the sake of cruelty?
Pyro pulled its gas mask over its head, the black-tinted lenses staring soullessly back at Engineer. It held one finger up to the front grate, a soft mumble echoing out.
“ Shh .”
