Beneath the towers, tall and stark,Where turbines hum and watchdogs bark,Lies Nuke, the battleground so famed,Where legends fought, where glory's claimed.

A site of steel and nuclear might,With flashing lights and sirens bright,A war-torn place of risk and guile,Where strategy must trump denial.

The CTs stand with weapons drawn,Defending halls from dusk till dawn,Their boots like echoes on the floor,As they guard each fragile door.

The Terror side, with plans in hand,Seek chaos on this hallowed land,With smokes to cloud and mollies bright,They set their path, they start the fight.

The yard, a stretch so vast and wide,A sniper's perch, a lurker's stride,With secret doors and vents concealed,Where silent steps may tilt the field.

Control Room hums with hidden fate,A lurking foe just lies in wait,A single round, a crucial shot,Determines if the site is lost.

A-Site, the rooftop sighted high,Where trades are swift and bullets fly,A single flash, a push so bold,The bomb is set, the plan unfolds.

B-Site below, so dark and grim,A cavern cold, an echo dim,A ticking bomb, the clock runs thin,As heroes rush to clutch the win.

The vents, a maze of swift escape,Where footsteps dance and fates reshape,A drop below, a silent crouch,A last resort, a daring vouch.

The final round, the scores are tied,The crowd erupts, the casters cry,A flick, a spray, the smoke turns thin,And one last frag decides the win.

So here upon this fabled ground,Where echoes of the past resound,A map of fire, fate, and fight,Where warriors chase the perfect night.