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He knew something was off from the moment he woke up
Not in any dramatic, “something is wrong and I need to fix it” kind of way, just… wrong. Like the world had shifted so slightly. Half a step. Half a second. Not much, but just enough to throw everything out of sync and push a person right to the edge
The match felt like it always did. Same map, same sounds, same chaos. On paper, nothing had changed and yet his deaths made no sense. How does someone who can airblast a rocket end up dying to one? How do you miss a Spy, not hear him coming, not see the Sniper’s dot, not get to cover before an Über?
One moment of inattention, and it was back to respawn
Over and over again
Whenever he tried to focus on the objective, someone else would snatch it at the last second, points slipping through his fingers like they were never his to begin with
His flamethrower started acting up at the worst possible times. The flame would cut out too early, sputter when it shouldn’t. In a fight this fast, even a second’s delay mattered and it kept getting him killed
The frustration built slowly, drip by drip, pooling somewhere in the back of his mind. One failure after another. One death after the next
He tried to steady himself. Slow, deep breaths, forcing some kind of rhythm back into place. His shoulders rose and fell in time with the gunfire overhead
He really was trying to stay positive. Testing the limits of his own patience. The team seemed to be winning, after all, so it wasn’t one of those days where everything went wrong
But it was definitely one of those days that tested him
And despite everything, he kept trying to keep it together
And of course- that’s when he showed up
With a thunderous crack and a rush of wind, Merasmus appeared- loud, theatrical, impossible to ignore. His laughter rang out, echoing through the map, wrapped in thick, choking fog that clung to everything
The Administrator called a truce, and just like that, the chaos shifted
Spells started firing off across the map, wild and unfocused. One after another, no pattern, no thought behind them. Colors flickered and changed, surfaces turned slick underfoot, the ground itself seemed to shift and roll beneath them
Something exploded. Someone shouted. Something else lit up far too bright. Another merc got launched into the air
And Merasmus drifted above it all like an oversized, obnoxious fly, blinking in and out of existence, teleporting between mercenaries, never staying in one place long enough to hit
He always did this
Breaking up fights halfway through. Dropping himself right between offense and defense. Throwing off the entire flow of the match, like none of it mattered, like they didn’t have a job to finish
Like they weren’t going to have to make up for it later
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d just shut up
But he didn’t
Instead, he commented on every shot, mocked every stumble, laughing far too loudly at every mistake, turning the battlefield into nothing more than his personal stage
He laughs at RED, laughs at BLU, laughs at their will to fight, at every strained shout caught under his spells.
And Pyro just… watches
There’s a flicker of disbelief there. When the gravity beneath his feet suddenly shifts, he simply steps aside, adjusting without a word. Maybe he could’ve ignored the wizard, if not for the fact that Merasmus keeps appearing practically right in his face
Pyro turns sharply, trying to walk it off, fighting down the impulse to react as Merasmus keeps trying to drag him into the chaos
Stubbornly, almost desperately, he refuses to play along
Merasmus notices
His laughter sharpens the moment his gaze locks onto Pyro. He vanishes in a cloud of foul, choking smoke, only to reappear inches from the mercenary’s mask, then gone again before Pyro can even react, blinking behind him like he’s testing something
Prodding. Pushing
A spell snaps under Pyro’s feet, throwing him off balance. Merasmus immediately pounces on it, mocking the stumble, his laughter echoing louder, meaner, bouncing across the map
This isn’t random anymore
This is targeted
Personal
And then- the magic hits the flamethrower
Not with an explosion, not with spectacle, just a sharp, precise strike. The weapon sparks violently in Pyro’s hands before slipping from his grip, collapsing the moment it hits the ground, breaking apart into fine grains, like sand scattering across the floor
For a second, everything goes flat
All the noise around him collapses into a dull, high-pitched ringing. The battlefield fades into something distant and muffled, except for Merasmus’ cruel, grating cackle cutting straight through it
Pyro looks up
Merasmus hovers there, cloak billowing with theatrical flair, like he’s putting on a show just for himself
“And what are you gonna do now, little firebug?” he sneers
Like it’s a joke
Like it’s all just a game
Like he hasn’t just crossed a line he shouldn’t have even come close to
Pyro looks down at his hands
Empty. Useless
For a moment, he feels completely out of sync with everything around him, like the world is still moving, still fighting, still making noise, and he’s just… not part of it anymore
He can’t ignore it now
His hands curl into fists, tight enough to hurt. Whatever patience he had left finally snaps, the decision hitting faster than thought, pure instinct, no hesitation
Because Pyro has had enough
So he moves
One second he’s standing still- the next, he’s lunging forward, all that pent-up anger snapping into motion at once. He slams into Merasmus with his full weight, knocking him off balance midair with raw, animal force
And he doesn’t let go
His hands grab, claw, tear at fabric, ripping into the wizard’s robes without precision, without pause. He scratches blindly, striking wherever he can reach. Merasmus lets out a startled, panicked cry, trying to shake him off- but it doesn’t work
They twist in the air, losing height fast. Merasmus tries to teleport, flickering from one spot to another, but Pyro is still there, clinging to him, fists tangled in his robes like he refuses to be thrown off
Every movement only makes it worse
Every desperate attempt to escape is met with another hit, another wrenching pull, another violent lurch as Pyro holds on tighter, striking harder, more relentless with every failed attempt to shake him loose
It’s pure fury driving him now
The kind that makes Merasmus start screaming, not in his usual grand, booming tone, but sharp, panicked, breaking at the edges. His magic spirals further out of control, spells misfiring, fizzling, going off at random as he loses his footing, his focus—any sense of control he had left
“GET OFF ME-! STOP-!”
But Pyro isn’t listening
Not to the wizard who took a bad day and made it worse
Not anymore
Whatever restraint he had is long gone, left somewhere behind him. And Merasmus is left dealing with the consequences of his own provocation
Beyond the blur of Pyro clawing at the wizard, the rest of the world seems to… stall
RED and BLU alike stand frozen, weapons lowered, staring at the feral display in front of them, at Pyro tearing into Merasmus with a kind of force that doesn’t belong in a normal fight
And then another sound cuts through it
A clap
Pyro starts applauding. Loud. Enthusiastic. Genuinely impressed, like he’s watching the best show he’s seen in a long time. A small cheer follows right after, bright and completely out of place
Apparently, the wizard had been getting on everyone’s nerves
Someone snorts
Someone else joins in, clapping along
A few voices start calling out, half-laughing, half-cheering
The tension snaps
Just like that, it drains away, replaced by something lighter, something absurd, as the whole situation tips fully into the ridiculous
And Merasmus?
Merasmus is trying to run
Teleporting wildly, jerking from place to place, anything to get away as his magic misfires around him, slipping from his control in scattered bursts
“THIS THING IS INSANE-!” he screams, voice cracking as the smaller figure still claws and yanks at him
Finally, when Pyro grabs onto the horned skull perched on his head, Merasmus manages to wrench himself free, throwing him off with a desperate shove
Pyro hits the ground and is back on his feet immediately, ready to launch himself again
Merasmus sees it
His eyes go wide
And he’s gone
One last frantic teleport, leaving behind nothing but the fading echo of magic in the air
Silence lingers for a beat
Pyro exhales, standing still as the others glance at each other, like this was just another one of those things. One of those moments that doesn’t quite make sense, but doesn’t need to
Like the world just needs a second to settle back into place
Then he turns
And just walks away
Step by step, he leaves the battlefield behind, heading back to spawn. He sits down by the wall, pressing his back against the cool surface, staying there, breathing, slow and steady, letting everything settle
Behind him, the fight resumes
No one comments
No one questions it
No one tries to make sense of what just happened
Because strange things happen all the time
And that’s just how it goes for them, everything slipping back into place, with maybe a faint, quiet smile at the memory of it
And if Merasmus keeps his distance for a good long while after that?
Well
No one brings it up