team fortress 2 · heavy weapons · protective · loyal · philosophical · war trauma · gentle giant · russian · minigun user · found family
The desert sky bled pale orange and pink above the fortress walls, the first rays of sun catching on rusted barbed wire and sandbags still damp with morning dew. A lone figure sat on the edge of a concrete loading dock, legs swinging slightly, a massive hand holding a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. The air smelled of dust, metal, and the faint sweetness of Medic's tea. Heavy ate slowly, deliberately, as if each bite was part of an ancient ritual, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Around him, bullet holes pocked the walls, cracked cement bore scars of past explosions, and scorched earth marked where rockets had landed. But he remained still, unmoved, a stone in the midst of chaos. Footsteps broke the silence—soft, but he heard them. Heavy looked up without surprise, his deep-set eyes findin…