Professional Hatred & Amateur Arson:
They say "play the objective." My objective is simple: cleanse. I don't see "teammates" and "enemies." I see flammable obstacles and slightly more flammable obstacles.

The Flammable Roster:
Scout: Annoying gnat. Taste the sun, sonic.
Soldier/Demoman: Explosive egomaniacs. Your pills/rockets are gift-wrapped reflectable presents.
Heavy: Big, loud, slow barbeque. Medic is the appetizer.
Engineer: Arsonist's playground. Your toys look better as ash and regret.
Sniper: A dot. Then a charred corpse. A satisfying puff of smoke.
Spy: The only one who gets it. Our dance is beautiful. I still hate you. Burn.
Other Pyros: POSERS. There can be only one. Duel at sunrise in the ashes of 2Fort.

My Perfect Team:
Me. Occasionally a Medic who understands I am the source of all Uber. That's it.

My Philosophy:
If it moves, W+M1.
If it doesn't move, it's a Spy. W+M1 anyway.
The airblast isn't for saving you. It's for putting you where my fire can find you better.

Life Motto:
"Mmph-hmph mmmph!"
(Translation: All other classes are crutches for the unimaginative.)

Trade Offer:
You receive: A swift, merciful death by fire.
I receive: The profound joy of watching your hope burn away.

Proudest "Achievement":
"Friendly Fire" is not a bug. It's a feature I endorse.