Рўрєр°с‡р°с‚сњ Р¤сѓс‚р°р¶ Р­р»сњ Рџсђрёрјрѕ С‚р°рѕс†сѓрµс‚ Рїрѕрґ Austronomia... Here

Colt checked his ammo. One shot left. He stepped out, ready to go down in a blaze of glory.

But El Primo didn’t charge. He didn’t leap. Instead, he stood perfectly still. Colt checked his ammo

The desert sun beat down on the Thousand Lakes map. Smoke was closing in, and only two Brawlers remained. this was the moment of panic

Colt lowered his guns, mesmerized. He looked at the poisonous green gas creeping toward them. Usually, this was the moment of panic, the "Game Over" screen. But with El Primo leading the funeral march for their own match, it felt... right. synthesized beat began to thrum. Dun-dun-dun-dun

From somewhere across the dunes, a faint, synthesized beat began to thrum. Dun-dun-dun-dun, dun, dun-dun-dun-dun... The infectious rhythm of filled the arena. El Primo’s shoulders began to bounce.