here my poem about my rival "abto" his id: 4226172
In Torn City, the night never sleeps.
Streetlights flicker like broken promises,
and every siren sounds like my name.
I walk through the city with blood on my knuckles
and revenge stitched into my shadow.
Abto thinks this war is about money.
It stopped being about money a long time ago.
Every mugging is a message.
Every hospital bill is a signature.
I take his cash, he takes another shot at my back,
and the cycle spins like a rusted roulette wheel.
People in Torn whisper about us.
They say when I log in,
someone somewhere starts panicking.
Maybe they’re right.
Abto moves carefully now.
Checks his events. Watches the timer.
Looks over his shoulder in dark alleys
where the neon lights drip like poison rain.
But I am always there.
Waiting outside the bank.
Waiting after his failed crimes.
Waiting for that one mistake
that turns pockets inside out.
He calls me obsessed.
Maybe I am.
Because rivalries in Torn don’t fade peacefully.
They rot. They grow teeth.
They become legends people joke about in faction chat.
And when the city finally goes silent,
when the chains end and the smoke clears,
there will still be one truth crawling through the gutters:
I never hunted Abto for respect.
I hunted him because in this city,
someone always has to lose.