Dust2's sands burned under the cafe's midnight glow—Ganyu's bird sniper had claimed Tartaglia's skull, a headshot that left Keqing, Xingqiu, and Chongyun crouching in A's shadow—and the trio froze, their bravado a fragile shield against her qilin precision, the bomb's thud a taunt in the silence.
Uncertainty gnawed—was her shot luck or mastery?—and Keqing whispered, "If it's chance, we rush—lose one, win; if she's that good…" her voice trailed, Xingqiu nodding, "Three on one—odds favor us," Chongyun clenching, "I'll lead; death's just pixels," his yang a fire stoked for the fray.
B's chaos faded—bandits and cops clashed, a mutual slaughter leaving no survivors, the map's sunbaked sprawl a graveyard—and A stood alone, the bomb site a crucible where Ganyu's perch loomed, her Scout a qilin's horn poised to pierce their gambit, no aid coming from either flank.
Chongyun counted—"Three, two, one—go!" his M4 raised as he charged, a hot-blooded spear—and Ganyu's sniper cracked, "Ganyu (Scout Headshot) Chongyun," his helmet spinning, his screen graying, "She's too fast!" his fall a spark as Keqing fired, "Suppress her!"
Xingqiu acted—his flashbang arced, a white bloom blinding Ganyu's perch, followed by a grenade's roar, "Boom—residual blood at best!"—and Keqing planted, C4 ticking as she ducked, "Hold the corner—Xingqiu's got it," her confidence a thread, the bomb's beep a lifeline.
Ganyu blinked—vision cleared, her Scout snapping, "Ganyu (Scout Headshot) Xingqiu," his pistol mid-aim, "What—impossible!"—and Keqing gaped, "She's real—damn her skill!" her crouch behind the crate a fortress, the bomb her shield, victory a breath away if she held.
Time stretched—Ganyu's boots echoed, "She'll come—has to," Keqing braced, her AK steady—and a flashbang whitened her screen, "Not again!" a grenade's blast following, "Ganyu (Grenade Kill) Keqing," her body crumpling, the qilin's toss a casual doom, C4 defused in the aftermath.
Round one ended—police reigned, Ganyu's tally a slaughter, bandits' pride dust in her wake—and the cafe buzzed, melon-eaters gasping, "She's a demon!" as Tartaglia groaned, "Sure win? My ego's gone," his Harbinger's swagger a ghost under her relentless reign.
Round two swapped—cops now, Keqing, Tartaglia, Xingqiu, and Chongyun huddled, their screens a grim mirror, "She's no sheep—she's a beast,"—and Keqing scowled, "One loss means nothing; we'll outsmart her," their resolve a ember, three cobblers plotting against a qilin Zhuge Liang.
Tactics bloomed—"Flank mid, camp B, rush A—split her focus!" Tartaglia barked, his M4 primed—and they moved, Dust2's sprawl a chessboard, Ganyu's bird sniper cracking, "Ganyu (Scout Headshot) Bandit No. 3," "Ganyu (Scout Headshot) Tartaglia," his rush snuffed, "Again—me?!"
Keqing darted—"A-long—pin her!" her AK blazing as Ganyu perched, "Ganyu (Scout Headshot) Keqing," her lightning downed—and Chongyun flanked, "Pipes—steady!" his burst wild, "Ganyu (Scout Headshot) Chongyun," Xingqiu's cry, "She's a wall!" their plans a pile of ash.
Hours bled—three rounds, then four, Ganyu's kills climbing, "Ganyu (Scout Headshot) Bandit No. 7," "Ganyu (Grenade Kill) Xingqiu"—and Tartaglia slumped, "I'm done—CS is cursed," his spirit broken, Keqing's growl, "No more—she's too much," their fight a fading ember.
The cafe trembled—Ganyu's terror spread, "She's unbeatable!" melon-eaters whispered, Hu Tao cackling, "My sniper queen!"—and Tartaglia staggered, "Enough—back to Resident Evil," his pride a wreck, the tyrant's lair a refuge from her bird sniper's sting.
He'd lagged—CS's chaos had stalled his hard-mode grind, Jill's line teetering on the final boss, "First clear's mine—I won't lose it!"—and he trudged to the counter, mora clinking for instant noodles, a braised egg and ham sausage a balm for his battered soul.
Noodles steamed—the cafe's air thickened with their scent, a midnight feast sparking hunger—and melon-eaters swarmed, "Noodles—now!" their buckets piling, Liam grinning, "Early morn fuel—makes the night whole," the aroma a thread weaving through the glowing den.
Jill faced the tyrant—two hours, a dozen deaths, Tartaglia's hands trembling, "Dodge—shoot—damn it!"—and the beast roared, claws raking as he fired, "Last mag—go down!" his rocket launcher flaring, the tyrant collapsing, "Cleared—finally!" his shout a ragged triumph.
A voice boomed—"Congratulations, Tartaglia, Unit 171—first to clear Resident Evil hard mode; claim your reward at the counter!"—and the cafe stilled, "Lottery?" melon-eaters blinked, Hu Tao bolting, "What's this?!" her curiosity a spark, beating Tartaglia to Liam's side.
Liam's voice rang—"Small games gave trinkets; Resident Evil's scale earns a draw—abilities, weapons, props, all possible!"—and the crowd surged, 300 souls cramming, Liam beaming, "Screens up—watch it live!" his feed flashing to wall displays, a spectacle unfolding.
Tartaglia arrived—noodles half-eaten, "A draw? For real?" his eyes glinting, fatigue fading—and Liam nodded, "Spin it—big games, big stakes," a wheel glowing, its slots a mystery, "Power, gear—maybe a Fatui edge," his tease a lure, the cafe's air electric.
The wheel spun—colors blurred, clicks echoing, "Strength? A blade?" Tartaglia mused, his Harbinger's greed stirring—and it stopped, "Hydro Burst Module," Liam read, "Summons a water blast—once daily," Tartaglia's grin a tide, "Perfect—my chaos reborn!" his laugh a wave in the din.
A subplot twisted—Ganyu's reign drove Tartaglia back, her sniper's shadow a spur to his biohazard win—and Keqing watched, "She broke us—he rose," her pride dented, Xingqiu musing, "A pen might've been nicer," their rivalry a thread in Liyue's glowing sprawl.
Action flared—outside, Tartaglia tested, "Hydro Burst!" a geyser erupting, soaking a crate, "Stronger than my bow!"—and melon-eaters cheered, "He's a monster now!" Hu Tao crowing, "Next draw's mine!" her fire stoked, the cafe a forge for Teyvat's bold.
Emotion surged—Tartaglia's grit outlasted Ganyu's terror, a Harbinger's pride reclaimed; Ganyu's calm hid a warrior's thrill, her sniping a balm; Liam's glee lit the night, his den a crucible—and Dust2 faded, Resident Evil's echo a new dawn in their saga.
Liam leaned back—screens blazed, Tartaglia's prize a beacon—and he grinned, "First of many—Liyue's hooked," Tier Harribel murmuring, "He fights like us—broken, then whole," her teal gaze tracing a Harbinger's rise, the cafe a realm reborn in pixels and power.
Tartaglia flexed—"CS licked me—tyrant didn't; this burst is mine!" his spirit a tide, Hu Tao plotting, "Ganyu and I—next big win!"—their bond a flame, the night's chaos a forge, Liyue's LAN a tapestry of grit and glory under Liam's watchful eye.
***
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