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Hungarian rises, cool and still,
Sometimes drops a 20-bomb—pure skill.
From out of nowhere, shots so clean,
He wipes a squad like it’s routine.
But other days? Oh, fate is cruel,
He plays the game like aiming school.
Two lonely kills the whole damn match,
While teammates ask, “Bro… did you crash?”
Yet win or lose, he’s still our guy—
A mystery no one can deny.
For glory, memes, or tilted pain,
Hungarian queues up again… and again.
_______ I still_______________######____
____****know what u did______######____
_______last summer__________####______
________*************!_____________##________
_____________________________######_____
____________________________#######_____
____####__________________#########___
___######________________###_######___
#########_______________###__######__
_#######_______________###___######___
_______#################____######__
_______##########################__
________################____#####____
_________##___________##_____####______
_________##___________##_____#########___
_______###__________###______#########_
⠀⠀⠀⢠⠊⠐⡞⢩⣭⣭⣭⣀⡔⣒⡚⠇
⠀⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠉⢿⡘⠃⣸⠃⠓⠒⢦⠌⢦⡀
⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢍⡉⠁⠐⠦⠤⠞⡀⠀⠀⢣
⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠉⠉⢳⠄⠀⠸⡆
⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⡇
⡠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⣄⣀⡴⣤⣀⠴⠁⠀⠀⡇
⢣⠘⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠏
⠀⠑⣄⠈⠢⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⡰
⠀⠀⠈⠑⢄⡀⠁⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠒⢁⠔
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠤⣀⠀⠉⠒⡂⢤⡰⠫⣄⡰⠃
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠼⠀⠠⡷⡀⠈
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱