The shadows stretch long as twilight bleeds across the city, neon signs flickering to life like dying stars. You crouch atop a rain-slicked rooftop, the hum of distant drones buzzing in your ears. Your target’s silhouette moves behind frosted glass—a corporate fixer who knows too much. The mouse trembles in your grip, a living thing, as you adjust the scope. Every twitch matters here. Sweat beads on your temple. One wrong move, and the entire sector goes into lockdown. You steady your breath, finger hovering over the trigger. The crosshairs align. A single click echoes. Glass shatters. Alarms wail. You’re already sprinting toward the fire escape, the data-chip burning a hole in your pocket. They’ll hunt you now. But that’s the thrill, isn’t it? Outrun them. Outsmart them. Survive. The city is your labyrinth. The mouse is your lifeline. Navigate. Adapt. Win.
Quickly move every weapon into the wooden crate before the 15-second timer ends.
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