In the land of New Zealand, where the green hills roll,
Lived a boy named Radar, with a digital soul.
A house on a hillside, with stairs narrow and steep,
Kept him locked in a life of peculiar upkeep.

For Radar was hefty, a lad of great size,
Whose love of sweet pavlovas was hard to disguise.
The staircase beneath him, a cruel, slender foe,
Barred his escape to the world far below.

Yet Radar was clever, with fingers so fleet,
He found his domain in the digital seat.
In Counter-Strike's realm, where the skilled take their stand,
Radar became known as the king of the land.

Not just a player, but a boss of HVH,
Where cheats meet their match and battles are brash.
His aim was uncanny, his tactics profound,
On servers worldwide, his name would resound.

“Radar the Bound,” they called him with awe,
The lad from the house with a flaw in its law.
Though trapped by the staircase, his spirit was free,
Roaming the maps of Dust and Mirage with glee.

His voice, through the headset, a booming command,
Guiding his team with a leader’s firm hand.
No stairs could constrain him, no walls hold him in,
For Radar had found where his life could begin.

So hail to the boy who defied every gate,
Who turned his confinement into something great.
In the world of the pixels, his legend does grow,
Radar, the boss, with a glow all his own.