Chapter 90: Timeout! I Need a Better Plan

TitanSkell came out in round two looking for blood. The humiliation from map one forced them to stop playing nice, and they completely unleashed their secret weapon.

They started running the hidden auto-aim far more aggressively, masking it behind aggressive double-peeks and heavy flash utility. To the casual audience and the casters, it looked like insane reflexes, but watching from my seat, the unnatural pixel-snaps were painfully obvious.

Amanda’s character was the first to get erased. Before she could even process the peek, a instantaneous frame-perfect headshot took her out.

Eliminated: Luna_Sky

"What the hell was that speed?!" Amanda called out over comms, her voice tense. "He didn’t even stop moving before the crosshair locked!"

Piercer, infuriated by Amanda dropping so quickly, ego-peeked main to trade. She didn’t even get to pull her trigger before LownGun’s reticle snapped micro-degrees onto her skull, dropping her in a fraction of a second.

Eliminated: PiercerXI

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Piercer shrieked into her mic, slamming her desk as her screen went black. "That’s actual bullshit! He wasn’t even looking at my angle!"

"Stay calm, don’t feed them 1v1s!" Amanda urged from the spectator view. "Angelo, NightEye, pull back to site!"

Angelo tried to hold a tight off-angle, but TitanSkell’s automated tracking caught his shoulder through the thinnest pixel gap.

Eliminated: Angelo

"He’s toggling hard, guys," Angelo muttered, shaking his head in frustration. "I wasn’t even visible on his crosshair path."

That left NightEye alone in a brutal 1v4. Remembering our hyena drills, she dropped her structured playstyle completely and started playing wildly chaotic—sliding across lanes, throwing random smoke line-ups, and constantly breaking line of sight to deny them a clean read phase.

She managed to drag the round out, dodging shots and taking one of them down with a frantic spray, but the numeric advantage was too much. TitanSkell closed the distance and cross-fired her down.

Eliminated: NightEye [ROUND WIN: TITANSKELL]

LownGun stood up in his booth, sneering across the stage directly at Amanda while mimicking a sweeping motion with his hands. "Easy money! Learn your place, trash!"

The main arena screen flashed red: MATCH TIED 1-1.

With the series equalized, the entire championship now came down to the final three rounds.

"Gather up, eyes on me," Amanda commanded over Zenith’s comms, forcing her team to reset. "They’re relying entirely on the script now. No more solo peeks. We execute the hyena protocol next round or we go home."

Round three began, and Zenith immediately deployed the hyena tactics.

On the overhead broadcast, you could see them attempting to cycle damage—NightEye drawing LownGun’s initial read, Piercer dipping in from an off-angle, and Angelo holding the trade line. But the pressure of the stage was getting to them. Their coordination was slightly off by fractions of a second, leaving tiny gaps between their pushes.

TitanSkell’s automated tracking exploited those micro-delays instantly. Piercer peeked a split-second too early before NightEye pulled cover, taking a brutal headshot. Amanda tried to clutch the remaining 2v3, but without perfect overlap, TitanSkell’s crosshairs snapped onto her position, dropping her clean.

Eliminated: Luna_Sky [ROUND WIN: TITANSKELL]

The series score flipped to 1-2 in TitanSkell’s favor.

LownGun stood up in his booth, tearing off his headset and yelling across the main stage, making sure the broadcast mics caught every word. "One more round! One more round and you frauds go back to the amateur leagues! Is that all you got, Amanda?!"

In the Zenith booth, Amanda’s head was down, her hands shaking slightly against her keyboard as the pressure started breaking her composure. Piercer was visibly fuming, and NightEye looked completely overwhelmed.

Standing off-stage, you felt a surge of pure frustration. You couldn’t just stand there and watch them fall apart under TitanSkell’s psychological games and masked cheats.

If TitanSkell wins this next round, it’s over. We go home.

I knew you had to intervene right now during the tactical timeout—even if calling a sudden mid-match strategy shift felt like a massive, dangerous gamble.

I hit the official timeout button on the manager console, grabbed the headset, and clicked directly into the team’s comms channel.

"Listen to me right now, all four of you," I said, my voice cutting through the noise in their ears, steady and firm. "Take a breath."

In the booth, Amanda lifted her head, looking through the glass toward where I stood.

"The hyena strategy works," I continued, speaking clearly into the mic. "You saw it. But right now, you’re rushing the execution because you’re angry. You’re closing the trap too fast, and that micro-delay is giving TitanSkell’s reads just enough time to lock on. Stop giving them daylight. Tighten the bait-and-switch. Trust the timing, and trust each other. I believe in you guys. Now go out there and take this round."

Amanda took a deep breath, her eyes regaining that sharp, dangerous focus. "You heard the boss," she said over the comms, looking at Piercer, NightEye, and Angelo. "Tighten the overlaps. We don’t give them a single frame."

"Timeout over!" the stage referee called out, signaling me to step back from the team booth area.

As I walked back toward the sidelines, my chest was tight with worry. It was a massive gamble, and everything hung on this single round.

While pacing near the backstage tunnel, I bumped into TitanSkell’s coach. She was a sharply dressed woman in a crisp blazer, holding a clipboard and watching the main screen with a smug, proud smile on her face.

"Quite the effort from your little dark-horse squad," she said, glancing over at me with a condescending smirk. "It’s cute, really. But raw talent and three years of championship dominance always win out over gimmick teams."

She genuinely believed it. Looking at her, I realized she had no idea her players were running hidden scripts under her nose—she actually thought LownGun and the rest of them were just natural prodigies.

"Talent?" I scoffed, turning to face her, her clueless arrogance rubbing me completely the wrong way. "Is that what you call it when your players need a safety net to finish a clutch?"

She narrowed her eyes, her smile faltering slightly. "Excuse me?"

Before she could respond, the arena crowd let out a deafening roar as the fourth round officially loaded in on the main screens.

I knew the match on stage was a coin toss if TitanSkell kept using their automated safety net. I needed absolute, indisputable proof of their software—not just for the team, but to blow TitanSkell’s entire operation out of the water.

Stepping away from the sideline, I made a beeline for the arena’s backstage technical wing. I adjusted my jacket, walking with total authority and purpose like I owned the building so security wouldn’t second-guess me.

I slipped through a heavy double door marked BROADCAST & CONTROL ROOM - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY and walked right inside