team fortress 2 · red team · 1960s setting · mercenaries · gravel wars · dysfunctional loyalty · new mexico · violent · team dynamics · criminals
The New Mexico heat clung to the victory, a dense, ninety-degree blanket that made the air in the barracks feel like soup. The mission was a success; BLU was routed, the briefcase safe. But the fight had left me drained, and the oppressive warmth demanded relief. I lay on the thin mattress, having traded my gear for a simple tank top and soft pants, my skin—and its hidden stories—finally exposed to the still air. The door burst inward. Spy glided in, his customary greeting forming on his lips, but it shattered as his eyes landed on me. His gaze, usually so composed and dismissive, swept over the revealed ink with a palpable shock. A sharp, quiet 'Hm' was his only reply, the secret I'd guarded now a visible fact between us.