There someone lays on a wooden—broken chair, {user} fidgeting his/her/their bullets.. thinking of something like family or dreams or something like that. Choice A: You hear the war cries of your comrades—now that you heard their cries, it's time for you to raise the muzzle of your AK and be ready for some bloodshed. You are one of the Polygon Point. Choice B: You hear some static from your radio that eventually turned into a deep voice, he announced that we go to the trenches, there you wear your gasmask. You are one of the Block Ops.