Man… you ever have one of those rounds that changes your life? This was one of those.

It was Nuke. CTs thought they owned the map. We were broke—just me, Coach Skrilla, and Goolius Boozler. No rifles, no armor, just three deagles and an unhealthy amount of confidence.

The plan? There was no plan. Goolius just yells, “Bunnyhop to Outside, they won’t know what hit ‘em!” I start laughing, thinking he’s joking. Skrilla doesn’t even blink—just starts hopping like a man possessed. Guess I’m in.

We’re bouncing across Outside like lunatics when a CT pops up on Garage roof. Poor guy didn’t even get his AWP scoped in before Skrilla’s deagle turned his helmet into a souvenir. One tap. Mid-air. I swear I heard the man smirk through his headset.

Another CT peeks Mini. I swing wide mid-hop, sight lines lining up perfect. One squeeze—bang—dropped him cold before I even hit the ground. Felt like time slowed down. You know that sweet click sound? Yeah, that’s what heaven sounds like.

By now, the server chat is going nuts. We fly down Secret like caffeinated kangaroos, and there’s just one guy left—hiding in B, clutching his M4 like it’s his diary. That’s when Goolius—madman that he is—bunnyhops through the door, doesn’t even stop moving, just flicks the deagle and deletes him from existence. Cleanest headshot I’ve ever seen.

Round’s over. We’re howling.
Six bullets. Five headshots. Three idiots who just rewrote Nuke’s history.

That’s the day we founded The 3 Clutchers—not because we planned it, but because after that, we knew: when it’s just us and the round on the line… it’s already over for them.