Deep in the Badlands of Southwestern America rages a private battle. It is fought over useless land that was left to two brothers by their deceased father. Redmond and Blutarch both hired their own armies of nine mercenaries, each trained in their own unique combat skills. There's only one catch to this war, death is temporary.
It was mid-afternoon and the sun merciless blazed down upon the current occupants of Dustbowl. BLU team had managed to push the Payload cart to about mid point. From there however, the two teams were at a stand-still. The mercenaries clad in red coloured uniforms held their defensive positions ferociously while those in blue were just as persistent. It had made for a harsh stale-mate, both groups not wanting to suffer a loss but the end of the round would mean the end of the battle, for that day at least, and they could get inside out of the heat.
Miren, dressed in her usual thick fire retardant suit and gask mask pulled over her head to filter out fumes, was skirting around the edge of the territory. She had her flamethrower in both hands, finger on the trigger and ready to launch into an assault upon the first RED she came across. The frontal offensive wasn't working so the pyro decided she would try to flank around the enemy team.
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