Field 1 chewed people overnight.
Barry heard it in the morning: hushed gossip in the Stack, a MedTower queue a little shorter because some counters never got topped up. Jay's feed showed payout logs with too many names stuck at NO EXTRACT.
"Industrial maze," Jay had said. "Death funnel. Good thing you slept."
Now it was evening, and Gate 5's tunnel hummed with a different announcement.
FIELD 2 — ROUND 078EXTRACT WINDOWS: 21:10 / 21:25 / 21:40HARD CLOSE: 21:50
Field 2. Residential sprawl fused with low-rise corps. Fewer bots than Field 1, fewer tall towers than Field 3. Decent loot if you didn't get greedy.
Barry flexed his left leg. The clinic-grade medband and Jay's brace hugged his thigh; still tender, still there, but it held.
Gear:
Rusty pistol cleaned and lubed.
One mag of decent 9mm, one of trash.
Two medbands (one his, one bought).
One stim.
Slightly better chest plate.
No bomb cores in the backpack yet. Plenty of space.
Plan: in fast, low, quiet. No heroics. Test if he could run a Round like a ghost.
"Stick to the edges. Hit one or two safe spots," Jay had said, scribbling on a battered paper map, because he didn't trust digital. "First or second window tops. Don't wait for the circus."
Barry watched the holo-board flicker above the gate. A few murderhobos flexed rifles at the front, masks on, chrome bright. Behind them, small groups murmured loadouts.
Lena wasn't in sight. Neither was anyone else he recognized. Fine. Solo.
His collar buzzed:
FIELD MODE: ARMED
Gate up. Night-smear light beyond.
Barry stepped over the yellow line.
Sound dropped.
Field 2 breathed different than 3. Lower buildings, tight alleys, narrower streets. Neon ghosts flickered over old storefronts—EAT / BUY / OBEY—half submerged in vines and grime. Rain misted down, soft.
HUD tick:
T+00:01
He let the clowns sprint out. He slid left at the first corner, into a lane lined with shuttered shops.
Quiet. Just the drip of water.
You're not here to fight, he reminded himself. You're here to not be poor.
First store: busted pharmacy. Already turned over hard—empty shelves, drawers hanging.
He checked anyway.
Behind the counter:
One loose pain tab.
An empty stim amp case.
Not worth it. Move.
Next: a convenience store with its roll-down grate half-open. He ducked under, crouched.
It stank of mold and plastic, but the shelves were mostly intact.
He listened.
No movement. No hum.
He went shelf by shelf.
Two sealed water bottles: pack.
Three intact protein pouches: pack.
One pack of cheap filter masks: pack.
A small box with the NEXUS logo: inside, four basic med-strips. Pack.
Footsteps outside. Heavy.
Barry dropped behind a shelf, breath snagging.
Two runners moved past the doorway, voices low.
"…I'm telling you, we hold mid-block, catch people on the way out—"
"Not first Round, man—"
They kept going.
He waited until their steps faded.
Quiet feet, he thought. Listen first. Move second.
HUD:
T+05:26
Enough time.
He slipped out the back, through a sagging staff door into a narrow service alley.
A Blue-Eye quad hovered overhead at cross-street height, lens blue, scanning.
It rotated slightly.
For a moment, its gaze hung on him a beat too long.
Barry's collar buzzed—a tiny, static tick.
Then: nothing.
The drone moved on.
He swallowed. "Don't be weird," he whispered at it. "I've had enough weird."
He took the next turn.
House block. Rows of low, attached units. Perfect goblin territory.
He picked one with its front kicked in but stairs still intact. Inside, quick sweeps:
Kitchen drawer: one can of something edible.
Cupboard: three sachets of coffee substitute.
Under the sink: water filter cartridge.
Bedroom closet: nothing but clothes rotten beyond use.
He moved fast, careful not to rattle more than needed. Pack weight creeping up. Good weight.
In the hallway of the second house, he heard it: a faint scritch on the other side of the wall.
Not metal. Not boots. Soft.
A whisper.
"Friendly, hey— I can hear you out there—"
Too smooth. Too practiced.
Barry froze.
Locals talk now, Jay had said. They know the lines.
The voice came again, closer to the crack in the drywall. "Just need a share, man. Just a—"
Barry stepped back on silent feet, out of the hallway, out of their angle.
He didn't answer.
Silence.
Then, barely audible behind the wall, a different voice, rougher:
"Did he bite?"
"Nah. Next one."
Locals.
He left.
HUD:
T+11:38
First extract at 21:10. He could make it easy.
Temptation pulled: two more houses, one more block, better haul.
He ignored it.
"You get greedy, you get dead," he muttered.
He cut through a back lot toward the marked extract: a half-collapsed parking garage with a shimmering field on the lower level.
On the way down the broken ramp, he heard a gunshot crack behind him and went flat by reflex. Concrete dusted his hair.
Murderhobo laughter rolled.
"Shit, sorry, thought you were a Local!"
Liar.
Barry didn't turn back. Didn't lecture. Just moved lower, staying in cover until he saw the extract zone: a circular pad glowing pale green, guarded by a pair of Blue-Eye sentry pods.
Two runners already in the zone tensed as he approached, then relaxed at his basic kit.
He stepped in.
Collar hum:
EXTRACT 1 — ACTIVESYNCING…
Five seconds.
No spider. No bomb. No charge.
Just his heart and the faint hum of NEXUS reading his inventory.
SYNC COMPLETEROUND STATUS: SURVIVEDEXITING FIELD 2
White.
Then Stack air, brighter neon, shouting, alive.
Barry checked his pack.
Water, food, meds, filters—plus all his limbs un-charred.
Collar ping:
PERSONAL CREDIT: +22CLINIC ACCESS: UPDATED
Not as crazy as the bomb run. Better than the spider run. Safe.
Good.
He let himself smile for half a heartbeat.
It vanished quick.
Because safe had a cost too: if he never took bigger risks, Lissa's counter would always hover in that one-week margin, never further.
But for tonight?
Quiet feet. Clean extract. No new scars.
He could live with that.
He stepped off the pad and into the crowd, already thinking like a goblin accountant:
How much to Lissa. How much to him. How much for one more plate upgrade. How long until NEXUS stopped treating him like background noise and made another move.
After they lost, sometimes the bravest thing you did in a warzone was walk away early.