It was like a miracle shining from the bleakest dark.
The members of Charlie Platoon couldn't believe their eyes, and at first, were at a complete loss over why their number on the scoreboard was slowly and steadily rising higher and higher.
They thought it was a fluke, a very, very, very lucky streak, or perhaps a glitch in the netcode… because yeah, that makes sense. But it eventually dawned on them that all hope was not yet lost, that there was still a fighting chance of claiming the win.
Soon, whispers and mutters began to take root across every inch of the battlefield of some kind of blitzing figure whizzing through hails of gunfire unscathed. A sort of phantom, a ghost… that no bullet could ever touch. And should you ever bear the misfortune of ever seeing him with your own eyes, then abandon all hope - for your flag is already long gone.
Sorry for no chapter yesterday. Had a migraine that I'm still working through now - but as an apology I'll publish two chapters with the next coming an hour after this one.