I’m pinned down in this grim, underground bar, the red neon “БАР” sign casting a sickly glow over the stone walls. My MP7 is clicking empty—an enemy is right there, closing in fast, and the only thing standing between me and a bullet to the head is this reload prompt. My thumb’s already hovering over the square button, heart hammering as I wait for the magazine to click home. This is the kind of split-second choice that makes or breaks a close-quarters fight.
Do you want me to also rewrite the title in a first-person, more immersive style?
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