Sweat coats your forehead as a cold wire presses your chest with betrayal. Your opponent approaches with card in hand and suspicion in their gaze. The door suddenly bursts open and the room floods with uniformed officers. You smile as gunfire erupts from every direction to protect you and their freshly ventilated body falls to the floor.
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You stand confidently rubbing this card between your thumb and index finger, every sound amplified by the microphone pressing uncomfortably beneath your shirt. It feels heavy, as if it carries the weight of your betrayal, pulsing with each heartbeat. Your opponent moves closer, a glint of menace in their eyes as they prepare to throw down their own card. You’re trying to keep steady, knowing any twitch could give you away. Until now, you’ve both had a cordial politeness about you. The falsity of friendship and the tension of knowing that this encounter would eventually happen. Your throat tightens as your opponent narrows their gaze, suspicion flickering across their face as they select a card.
They do a poor job of hiding an arrogant smirk and lean back as they slam their level 4 attack card onto the table top. Your mouth opens slightly as you pretend to be surprised. You look at them as if you were caught off guard, quickly scanning your cards as if unsure of how to react. You savor the charade then look up at them with a cold expression as you reach for the card you had been saving the whole time. You place it down slowly and gently, pausing before you move your hand away.
The door crashes open! They jump to their feet and before your opponent can even fully turn, the room erupts. Deafening gunfire blasts through the air, and everything moves in sickening slow motion. Your opponent staggers, confusion clouding their expression as the bullets hit blast their stomach, chest and face. Blood spirts from their body andf their remaining cards fall to the floor as their knees give way to gravity and the life drains from their eyes.
You don’t breathe until the last echo of gunfire fades. Your heart hammers as you feel hands gripping your shoulders, pulling you back from your opponent’s motionless form. You stare at the scene, the ringing in your ears slowly subsiding, replaced by a murmur of voices and the blur of blue uniforms. The wire feels unbearably hot against your skin now. The taste of betrayal dries your mouth. You smile, taking a new card from the Shared Armory. Round over. They’ve been eliminated.
