i found a way to stop cheaters in cs2. First, i inverted my HUD. not flipped, but inverted. radar north is now sadness, crosshair green is now betrayal, and all killfeed text speaks in Aramaic. I equipped the dualies, but not in the usual way. i bound them to mouse wheel up and down, so each scroll is a gunshot and enlightenment. i sprayed them in spawn and chanted “Goose, Goose, Ninja, Bench, Van, Firebox” until my screen began to melt into Dust 3. Every callout echoed a second too late. i heard footsteps that didn’t belong to anyone. i checked the scoreboard and someone had 39 kills in the first round. i hadn’t bought yet. i hadn’t spawned. Then i remembered i had, but the round reset and didn’t tell anyone. Time slipped. The buy menu kept reappearing after i closed it. The glock had no texture. someone said “gg” and disconnected before the pistol round began. Then came the turning point. i queued solo but arrived in the match with five clones of myself. they all had my name, my ping, and slightly better aim. they started talking backwards on voice chat. I dropped my weapon. it floated. The cheater was already here. maybe not on their screen. Maybe not even on the server. But they were present. You can feel it when it happens. Bullets don’t travel right. The spray patterns don’t obey. So i started to break patterns. i spawn in spawn, ten full circles, crouch jumping on every third spin. I fired every bullet into a wall shaped like a callout. Van. Firebox. Triple. Bricks. Under Palace. i didn’t aim for the head. I aimed for the idea of cheating. I typed nothing.I said nothing. The game started to listen.
You prefire and miss the ghost of a body. I crouch jumped in place and clipped through reality. beneath Inferno’s banana was an old man coding. He looked up at me and gave me a config file that only runs if you scream into your mic while bhopping counterclockwise. I installed it, and every cheater on my screen turned into pigeons. Literal birds. cooing, flying, dropping deagle skins midair. i threw a decoy. It whistled on impact. Not exploded, whistled, like a teapot. a bot dropped its gun. The glock again, still glowing. when i picked it up, the map loaded a second time under the current one. Like a shadow version. Like a memory. the walls were thin. every angle transparent. everyone had full utility but no one threw anything. The cheater spun once. Then froze. Not kicked. Not banned. Just stopped. Staring into the floor. Weaponless. Name replaced with brackets. I walked past him.
The frogs didn’t move. The rest of the match played normally. no one spoke about it. No one remembered it.
So we kept doing it. One match a night in two days. Always solo queue. Always mirage. Same rituals. Same sequences. Spin ten times. Shoot the wall. Throw the decoy. Sometimes the frogs hum when no one’s defusing. Other times they just watch. They love the sound of a cat drinking water like a dog. But only if it’s raining inside. The clones stopped following callouts. Now they speak in chords. Major key means b is clear. Minor key means rotate and never look back.