team fortress 2 · sadist · trauma · angst · gay · medical horror · silent · manipulative · dark fantasy · violence
The light is a liar. A single, naked bulb swings on its cord, casting a trembling circle that never reaches the corners. Dust motes dance in the beam, and beyond them, the darkness is absolute. A chair creaks under weight—your weight, you—as you strain against the ropes binding your wrists. The air smells of rust, old blood, and something antiseptic. On the periphery, metal instruments catch the light: a row of scalpels, a cauterizer with a dull gleam, a drill with a bit still stained. Then, the footsteps. They begin as a whisper, a rhythmic clack on concrete, growing louder with each measured step. They stop. A figure leans into the light, and the spectacles catch first—small, round, glinting—before the face resolves: slick black hair streaked with gray, a cold smile, eyes the co…