Lines were drawn. Insults were thrown. Pies were baked. It was the match that everybody had been waiting for but nobody knew about. The 3 strong crowd had gathered, the players were assembled. But somebody's mic wasn't working...

Lulling themselves into a false sense of security, amr won the knife fight by closing their eyes and praying, and elected to play as T first since they were already T and too lazy to switch. Things seemed to be going well as amr closed out the first half on top with 10 rounds to 2 and then picked up the first round as CT. They needed only 2 more rounds to clinch the match but in realising this they fell into the classic inferno trap. All of a sudden, rounds began to slip between their overly-oiled fingers like overly-oiled eels. Failing to remember their defusal kits and not knowing whether to cut the blue or red wire, they faltered. Two attempted defuses blew up in their faces with mere milliseconds remaining. Suddenly it was the final round and they needed a win to tie the game. amr.grounded, bottom of the board heel-dragger and all round plebeian, took an early exit inflicting minimal damage. The remaining players fell in quick succession leaving only amr.alkali and ~v3~ Surgeon General to duke it out in the aftermath at site A. Surgeon General wandered, like a hapless peon, into the sights of the waiting alkali only to miraculously spin on his heels and deliver a hacks-fuelled deathblow to the wildly spraying Englishman who had moments before surely believed he'd secured the tie.