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At the fire passage entrance, dozens of bodies lay sprawled.
Most were Mutant Humans, their green skin obvious, but some were players, left with shattered exoskeletons.
Alloy walls still bore old war propaganda posters, some cut from magazines, boasting of victories.
Ironically, the Three Year War that spanned light-years into the stars had never touched that bunker.
Yet two centuries later, the walls were pocked with bullet holes, blood flooding the hallways.
“… The power room is just ahead!” Piltover Paratrooper checked the VM map, leading the charge in his heavy exoskeleton. “Detected vital signs, it’s the last room!”
Irene checked his mission log and spoke. “The remaining Mutant Humans must be in there. The fake Hive should be inside the power room… The nuclear fuel’s probably in the backup store.”
“Let’s end this quickly!” Piltover Paratrooper sneered, revving his chainsaw until the air grew hot.
Just as he moved forward, Elf Wang called out. “Wait.”
Piltover Paratrooper stopped and turned around. “What?”
Grinning, Elf Wang hefted a heavy prize onto his shoulder. “Try this instead!”
Piltover Paratrooper’s...
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