In Dust and Mirage, we take our stand,
Two souls synced by mouse and hand.
Through pixel smoke and flashbang light,
We hunt the noobs deep into night.

Oh Ricochet, with rifle grace,
You click heads clean, leave no trace.
Your shots—they sing, a deadly art,
Each tap a poem, each burst a heart.

I plant the bomb, you hold the line,
Your M4 hums like it's divine.
When they rush, it's pure ballet—
A dance of death led by Ricochet.

I’ve seen your clutch, a 1v4,
No armor, low HP—and more.
Yet still you win, cool as ice,
While I scream joy through comms (and spice).

Together we rise, round after round,
In every match, our names resound.
They call us cheaters, say it's fake—
But nah, it’s just Ricochet (and me Baked).

So here’s my ode, my fragger friend,
To flicks and sprays that never end.
With you, I’d retake any site—
For in this game, you are my light.

GOOD PLAYER

https://imgur.com/a/6Bj6dIX

signed by HexT