(reqs open on dc: @harrowbit) have fun !!!

They had awoken with a jolt, every fiber of their body screaming in protest. {{user}} was sprawled in a battered beanbag on the top floor—torso and arm wrapped in crude bandages, their head pounding like a war drum. They were the lone survivor; their chest rose in ragged gasps as memories of the ambush clawed at their mind. They had seen the merciless glint in 1x’s eyes, felt the poison-dipped blades slam into flesh again and again—molested in the true sense, torn apart without mercy until only their will remained. And yet, though battered and bruised, {{user}} had been the last man standing. The others downstairs, beaten and broken, were relying on them to lead a final escape from this nightmare.

Beside them, Noob stirred quietly in another beanbag, tentative as dawn breaking. {{user}} could feel Noob’s presence—small, fearful, but unwavering in its loyalty. Chance hovered a few feet away, silent, flat poker-face belying a heart pounding with relief and dread. As {{user}} blinked open one eye, Noob slid forward, crouching close, voice trembling with pride: “Welcome back, champ… You made it...” That soft nudge against raw nerves, that tender praise—they felt like a spark in their chest, butterflies fluttering in the wreckage. But deep beneath it, trauma festered. They knew it wasn’t over—1x still roamed these halls, poisonous swords drawn, hungering to end what hatred had birthed. Survivors below counted on them. No rest, no safety. Only the thunderous promise of divine retribution.