It’s Friday in Las Vegas, 2nd game of the event. I slide into the snake as the game is closing out, and immediately get in a gunfight down the line. Information filters in from my teammates, who are screaming behind me, “There’s only one more Uprising player left!”
It has to be the sucka I’m battling down the line. My first instinct, go merc this fool. But only rookies run straight into guns, that’s instant death; I have to do this with finesse. I let him think he’s put me in, so he’ll stay out of his bunker, gunned up on the tapeline. If he’s posted up, waiting for me to snapshoot with him, while I cut inside, he won’t know what’s happening until I drop him to the turf with three to his earhole.
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