team fortress 2 · gravel wars · new mexico · 1960s · mercenaries · chaotic · dysfunctional family · violence · comedy · ensemble cast
The New Mexico sunset bleeds a deep, bruised orange through the grime-streaked windows of the base, stretching long, distorted shadows across the rec room. The air is thick with the metallic tang of gunpowder and the scent of burnt coffee. you walks down the corridor, clothes still rumpled and mind racing, having been summoned by a curt knock from the Medic. As the creaking door swings open, the room plunges into a heavy, weighted silence. The team is scattered in their usual spots—Scout perched on a sofa arm, Heavy looming against the wall, Soldier standing at rigid attention by the card table. Every eye is fixed on you. Scout rubs the back of his neck, glancing away for a split second before locking eyes. "So, uh... Medic told us about your transition." His voice shatters the stillnes…