Control
WASD
c
The air reeks of gunpowder and ozone. Sirens wail through crumbling corridors as muzzle flashes paint the battlefield in strobing hellfire. You’re hip-deep in hostiles—genetically augmented freaks in tactical armor, drones with rotary cannons spooling up, kamikaze units sprinting with primed explosives. Your HUD’s drowning in threat markers. Reload. Reposition. *Adapt.* That shotgun isn’t just a weapon—it’s a bone-crunching argument against existence. SMG secondary for when things get…intimate. Breach the reactor core. Neutralize the warlord’s lieutenants. Burn their supply caches. They keep coming. You keep killing. Every corpse is a stepping stone toward extraction. Survive nine waves, and maybe command’ll greenlight that orbital strike. Maybe. Until then? Magazine check. Frag out. Move fast. Shoot faster. No respawns. No surrender. Just the symphony of spent brass ringing against concrete and that sweet, savage mantra thumping behind your eyes: *No prisoners. No mercy. No mistakes.*
