Thanks Atari for creating the Unreal series. Thanks Kyle for being the best damn partner I've ever had. Lyrics are from Metallica, No Leaf Clover.

.:: | ::.

And it feels right this time
On this crash course we're in the big time
Pay no mind to the distant thunder
Beauty fills his head with wonder, boy...

I duck instinctively as green lasers rip through the empty air where my head had been mere seconds before. And then, before Fatality can juke the beams lower, I'm off, careening madly on a suicidal, zig-zag course towards the blue-clad soldier, firing rockets recklessly.

Explosions boil up from the parched, lifeless earth beneath his feet, sooty orange and bleak gray, and he's blasted backwards as his torso's wrenched free of his hips, spraying me with his hot red blood.

There's no time for celebration, though, because a message has just flashed dangerously in the central left side of my visor, on the built-in HUD: BiSmArK!!! couldn't avoid the blast from DEVKiller1's shock combo. Shit! And now I'm running again, sprinting really, as my health level beeps at me frenetically. 29! 29! 29! There. Right there. A softly glowing blue cross, projected from a silvery hologram base. I plunge through it, and my HUD stops blinking about my health, stabilizing at 54.

o|fatality was obliterated.

Nice. My respawned teammate Bismark had found the terrible weapon dubbed the Ion Painter. Fatality is now nothing more than a charred and blackened skeleton, tumbling--

The ground around me is being churned up, chewed and gnashed and shredded by bullets. I leap to the side and whip around, firing twice at my attacker. A rocket punches straight into Dev Killer's stomach but the other goes wild, vanishing into the atmosphere. And now my launcher's empty so I pull out my Bio-Rifle, praying desperately, hating the little gun and its globby sludge missiles, still leaping frantically from side to side as Dev sprays his minigun carelessly, coating the area around me liberally with deadly bullets. Spamming me. He's going to hit me, we both know that.

And then as I squeeze off a thick blob of acid-green waste, landing not too far from Dev's feet, his relentless volley finds me, riddling me with his tiny messengers of death. 54- 38- 22- 14- 5 my HUD shrieks, frantically spitting out my health level, and then it's at zero and I'm gone.

I know Bismark's gotten the notification of my death, 'cause his message quickly flashes up on my HUD as I respawn: hang in there raz. 3 to go.

The HUD switches to display his meaning. Red team: 32. Blue team: 28.

Way too close for comfort.

I've reappeared next to an ammo dump for the Lightning Gun, a weapon I despise. It's powerful, right enough, but the firing rate's way too slow. I stick with my starting weapon. A freakin' hand-gun, but at least it shoots fast and true.

BiSmArK!!! was carved up by o|fatality's green shaft.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. I can hear footsteps from behind me and I whirl, my Assault Rifle screaming out bullets. Fatality doesn't even manage to let loose the neon-green beam of light he so favors, falling soundlessly as his head produces a gruesome explosion.

"Suck on this!"

BiSmArK!!! rode DEVKiller1's rocket into oblivion.

DEVKiller1 fired his rocket prematurely.

Nice try, Dev. That launcher's as dangerous to you as it is him if you don't know what you're doing, and kamikaze won't do you any good. See ya in hell.

I'm running again, pausing only to grab the deadly Flak Cannon and its ammunition, sprinting towards the explosions up ahead. Didn't sound good. A sudden message from Bismark only confirms my suspicions: I need some back-up!

Leaping off of the roof I'd been racing across, I land square in the middle of a gang-bang. Rocket-fire flares around me before I can react, and I'm now back-to-back with Bismark. He's in bad shape, and Dev and Fatality are both hell-bent on bringing him down. He shoots over and over, armed only with the blue-violet energy attacks of the Shock Rifle, and he's facing Dev's rocket launcher, and Fatality's green-beamed Link Gun--

o|fatality was fatally enlightened by BiSmArK!!!'s shock rifle.

GOOD! GOOD! Dev's got the more dangerous gun though, and I know right now, Bismark's likely to keel over if Dev so much as licks him. I'm not about to let that happen. Licking or otherwise. My Flak Cannon's levelled and hot shrapnel's spitting from the muzzle, shrapnel that's damn near impossible to dodge, even as his rockets are hammering into my torso. Firing firing firingfiringfiring--

My HUD doesn't even bother to inform me of Dev Killer's demise. Just: RED TEAM HAS WON THE MATCH!

I just kinda stand there, my back still against Bismark's, and send him a message through our HUDs, too weak from the aftermath of my adrenaline rush to speak. I love you, man.

Good. is all he says, but I know what he means.

The landscape blurs, fades, and then goes black.