Bullets Against Fists isn’t about who swings first—it’s about who *stumbles* last. That armored general? Blood on his lip, eyes wide with disbelief as his own men falter. The young warrior’s quiet stare says more than any monologue. And oh—the villains’ laughter? Chillingly theatrical. This isn’t a duel; it’s a collapse of hierarchy, one gasp at a time. 🩸🔥