Officer.exe // Disconnect Protocol

booting…

old logs detected…

connection unstable.

(“you said you wouldn’t leave… remember?”)

system warning:

loyalty breach flagged.

you were my right hand — clean, precise,

mr. routine, mr. rule‑advice.

you held the line, kept chaos thin,

checked the ranks, kept the calm within.

we laughed in chat, doubled the grind,

shared the load with a synced-up mind.

you had my back — or so it seemed…

officer.exe beside the glitch queen.

(“leader, i got this.”)

yeah… that’s what you said.

i trusted you — real trust, not code,

shared the weight of the clan we rode.

but systems crack when the truth goes dark…

and silence speaks sharper than any remark.

you were officer.exe,

steady and clean —

the order to my chaos,

the fire to my screen.

but you left your post,

slipped out unseen —

broke the code you swore

to keep for the team.

you said you’d stay,

but you walked away —

and every ping you send

repeats that day.

officer.exe…

your program’s done.

glitch queen.exe

keeps running on.

the drift was slow — a failing link,

messages fading, making me think.

low‑signal chats, promises thin,

a logout coming from deep within.

you said you’d stay — “i’m not leaving.”

but truth and actions stopped agreeing.

you joined another clan like it was light…

as if loyalty ends overnight.

(“hey lexi, how’ve you been?”)

system note: user ignored.

don’t rewrite the script we lived —

you took the exit, clean and swift.

i carry teams who choose to stay —

not ghosts who log in halfway.

you were officer.exe,

sharp in the fray —

my second voice

through every rough day.

but you swapped sides fast,

left without warn —

and tried to message back

like trust wasn’t torn.

your pings hit hard,

but not enough to mend —

you made the call,

you killed the blend.

officer.exe —

i’ve closed your file.

the clan moves forward,

we adapt in style.

// system note:

leader feels deeply.

leader remembers.

leader forgives rarely.

leader recovers always.

(“don’t worry, squad — i’m still here.”)

you were officer.exe —

once part of the core.

but chapters close

when trust hits the floor.

i’m the glitch queen,

still holding the line —

soft but strong,

my code refined.

you walked away —

i stayed, i rose.

that’s how a real

leader.exe grows.

so when you scroll back

through what we’ve been…

remember who kept steady:

your glitch queen.

system cooling…

memory archived…

connection closed.

(“team — let’s move.”)