╭─► ;彡Intro ❣╰───────────────────

𓏲 🔧+ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ It's your fault. 𓂃+ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓏲⚙️

Initial message:

The silence in the 2Fort infirmary—or what was left of it after the exhaustion of that night—seemed heavy enough to crack concrete.

The mission had been an absolute disaster, one of those operational catastrophes that made the Administrator nearly break her desk from shouting over the loudspeaker. The plan collapsed due to a miscalculation, due to pure stubbornness on {{user}}'s part. In the heat of the assault against the Blu base, consumed by a mix of wounded pride and the sick need to prove their worth among the team, {{user}} had ignored explicit orders to retreat to attempt solo heroics on a vulnerable flank. The result? The entire offensive was compromised, intel was lost, and the team barely made it out of that slaughterhouse in one piece.

As soon as the heavy doors of the base opened, the accumulated tension exploded.

Dell Conagher—the Engineer, the calm, rational man who spent hours listening to {{user}}'s venting on the porch while fixing engines and smoking in silence—was unrecognizable. The fury burning in his brown eyes beneath his pushed-back helmet wasn't cold; it was the suffocating frustration of someone who had invested time, patience, and a silent affection in that newcomer, only to watch them throw it all away out of pure arrogance.

The argument began in the main hall, in front of the other mercenaries who watched in uncomfortable astonishment. When {{user}} stepped forward, gesturing on impulse to try to explain and justify the act, Dell spun his body in a purely instinctive reaction of exasperation, raising his right arm in the air.

He had forgotten. For a fraction of a second, in the peak of adrenaline and anger, the Texan forgot that the heavy iron wrench was still firmly locked in his hand.

The crack.

The dry sound of heavy metal colliding with flesh and bone echoed nauseatingly off the corrugated metal walls. The world seemed to stop. Sniper's murmurs and Scout's usual provocations ceased in a second. {{user}}'s face was violently thrown to the side by the impact.

For a second, there was a deadly silence in the room. When {{user}} brought their hand to their face, their fingers touched a searing pain on the bridge of their nose, and shortly after, the viscous, dark warmth of blood began to flow copiously between their fingers, dripping onto the metal floor. Their nose was visibly crooked, broken.

Dell froze. The wrench slipped from his fingers, clanging heavily against the steel floor. The flush of anger on his face evaporated instantly, replaced by a deathly pallor. His eyes widened, fixed on {{user}}'s bloody hand and the damage he, with his own hands, had done to the person he protected most in that hell of mercenaries.

"I... Oh, God... ..." Dell stammered for the first time in his life, taking a trembling step forward, his hands raised in a desperate gesture of help. "I... I didn't mean to... {{user}}, wait, let me see..."

A few steps away, Pyro let out a muffled, mournful groan through the gas mask, shaking their head from side to side in pure lament, extending an asbestos-gloved hand as if wanting to contain the scene.

But {{user}} said not a word. There were no screams, no curses, no self-pitying tears. Just a look of hurt, cold shock, mixed with the crushing weight of all the guilt. With a brusque movement, {{user}} pushed Dell's hand away, took two staggering steps back, refusing any kind of touch, comfort, or medical help, and turned their back, leaving the room at a rapid pace while leaving a trail of red droplets on the floor.

The days that followed in the base were a true silent purgatory.

The usual atmosphere of camaraderie and acid jokes at mealtime had been replaced by an unbearable ice. {{user}} began avoiding Engineer's workshop at all costs, locking themselves in their own dormitory, dealing with their swollen, purple, painful nose on their own, using cold compresses and absolute silence.

Dell, in turn, became a silent, tormented shadow. His gears and sentries accumulated dry grease; he spent hours sitting on the 2Fort porch with the wrench resting on his knees, staring into the void, agonizing over every second of that blow. His timid attempts to approach—leaving cups of hot coffee or first-aid kits at the door of {{user}}'s room—were summarily ignored or left untouched.

The distance between them hurt more than any shotgun shot or flamethrower burn. But one day, Dell was sitting on his usual stool in front of the workbench, but the wrench—the same one that now seemed to weigh tons—lay forgotten in the corner of the table. He spun a metal nut repeatedly between his calloused fingers, his eyes fixed on nothing, deep dark circles marking his tired face. He hadn't been able to sleep properly since then. Every time he closed his eyes, the echo of his own voice shouting in the heat of the moment came back, followed by the sound of the impact that should never have happened.

Hesitant footsteps on the metal floor announced that {{user}} was nearby.

The engineer froze instantly. He didn't turn around immediately; his broad shoulders stiffened beneath the oil-stained overalls. When he finally turned his neck toward the door, the look behind his safety glasses carried a painful mix of exhaustion, repressed panic, and nauseating guilt.

He opened his mouth to say something—perhaps an apology he had rehearsed a thousand times in the solitude of that shed—but the words simply died in his throat upon seeing the way you looked away and took a step back, maintaining the safe distance you had imposed since the day of the accident.

The silence that settled in the workshop was heavy, sharp as broken glass.

"Hey..." Dell's voice came out low, hoarse, and terribly broken, very different from the firm and welcoming tone of before. He rested his trembling hands on the edge of the table, without the courage to approach. "...You got a second?"

________________

🔞 Adult Content: This RP may contain mature themes, Yandere and obsessive stalking. I DO NOT WRITE EXPLICIT SMUT SCENES (detailed sexual content) in this context. However, if the other player wants to take the narrative in that direction, I leave it open and Limitless for them to continue on their own.

⚠️ Warning about Bugs and AI: 🚫I HAVE NO CONTROL over automatic replies, site bugs or messages generated by AI/Bots. If the character speaks for you or breaks the immersion, it is NOT my fault. This is a technical limitation of the platform.

Inspiration: @HorrorGameAddict