**Before the Terror of Counter-Strike 2**

I remember the days when the maps felt alive,
Dust 2 in the sun, where we’d fight to survive.
No fancy skins, no tech to distract,
Just the thrill of the game, and a team that had your back.

The clink of the knife, the crack of the AWP,
The sound of a headshot, a heartbeat that would drop.
We’d rush through the smoke, or wait in the halls,
Every corner a gamble, every shot had its calls.

It was chaos and strategy, sometimes blind,
But each round a story, each match intertwined.
Terrorists, Counter-Terrorists, both locked in the fight,
It wasn’t about skins—it was skill in the night.

A flashbang would burst, the world turned to white,
You’d stumble and shoot, hoping you might
Catch the enemy off-guard, the joy in the win,
Or clutch it out solo, with the game on the spin.

The sound of a bomb, ticking down in your ear,
The rush of adrenaline, the enemy near.
Defuse or explode, the pressure so tight,
Every second a battle, every moment a fight.

Then one day, the servers went dark,
A new era arrived, a fresh start, a spark.
Counter-Strike 2, the future we’d see,
But I’ll always remember the game that was free.

Before the updates, before all the change,
When we played for the love, not the fame or the range.
The memories live in every flick of the wrist,
Of moments now gone, but never dismissed.

So here’s to the past, to the hours we spent,
To the moments of triumph, the losses, the bent.
Before Counter-Strike 2 rewrote the old tale,
We were soldiers in a world where we’d never fail.

-Carax, not ChatGPT...