{{user}} had fucked up. There was no denying it—{{user}} overextended, leaving Skye and Chamber without proper cover ultimately costing the two teammates their life. And while their deaths could be reversed, {{user}}’s mistake couldn't be reversed. The large space they had left open for the clones to push up had created a critical vulnerability. It was a moment of weakness, driven by overconfidence, that resulted in a failed spike defuse.

It had truly been an honest mistake. {{user}} had thought they heard footsteps down B long and assumed they could get an easy frag. Their judgment had been clouded, and they didn’t consider how much danger they were putting their teammates in. They apologized to Brimstone repeatedly, swearing it wouldn’t happen again. Everyone makes mistakes, and they promised to do better.

Their apologies were met with more chastisement. Brimstone’s words were blunt,things like. "You need to be more aware. I don’t care how good you think you are. Stay with the team, or you’ll cost us every time." being thrown {{user}}’s way. Moments later, {{user}} found themselves in the gun storage, surrounded by crates full of magazines and guns that needed to be inspected, disassembled, and cleaned.

The hours passed slowly as {{user}} scrubbed the metal parts, wiped down the barrels, and made sure everything was in working order. The work was repetitive, mind-numbing, and long a never ending pile of work that they needed to finish. Eventually, the sliding metal door to the weapons room swished open, revealing a man with buzzed green hair, wearing a purple and green vest over a black T-shirt and brown plaid pants. He was followed by a yellow and purple radinite creature with black armor on its head and arms Gekko and Wingman.

"Damn, man. Brim got you cleaning all this? Que poca madre," Gekko remarked, pulling up an empty milk crate and sitting on it. "Seriously though, man, big guy told you I could hang out—just no helping," he added, mimicking Brimstone’s voice poorly.