WASD - movement, SPACE - jump, TAB - score table, C - crouch, RMB - zoom
The Bloodhounds hit the abandoned airfield at dawn, engines snarling through chain-link teeth. Rusted hangars loomed like broken teeth against the blood-orange sky—Viper territory, and tonight it burns. Jax revved the minigun’s spinning barrels first, the air splitting open as tracer rounds chewed through concrete barriers, Vipers scrambling like roaches in the light. Bodies erupted. Reinforcements poured from control towers, met with gasoline and grenades—screams drowned in the weapon’s thunderous hymn. But the real punch came when Smoke dragged the payload from the war rig: a drum-sized MF warhead stolen from old-world silos. Teeth gritted, he primed the beast as the last Vipers rallied. The blast ripped the runway apart, a sun-born inferno swallowing their cries. When the smoke cleared, only ash and Bloodhound sigils remained. The airport was theirs.
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