The third day in a row with Lissa's counter stuck at 7 felt like stolen time.
Barry liked it and hated it.
Jay flicked his eyes between the MedTower feed and the Field schedules, fingers drumming on the bench.
"Field 2 again. Evening," he said. "Cleaner than 1, less vertical than 3. You're not limping like a tragedy anymore. Go make it 8."
"You coming?" Barry deadpanned.
Jay smacked him lightly with the cane. "I move slower than firmware updates. Get out."
Gate 5 tonight. Different tunnel, same ritual.
FIELD 2 — ROUND 079EXTRACT WINDOWS: 20:05 / 20:20 / 20:35HARD CLOSE: 20:45
Barry checked his gear:
Pistol.
Two good mags.
Two medbands.
One stim.
One frag.
Better plate.
Knee brace tight but comfortable.
He blended into the crowd.
"Limp's better."
Lena again. She ghosted up on his right, hood low.
"You're following me," Barry said.
"I follow profitable routes," she said. "Today that's left-side res blocks, then south extract. You?"
"Same," he said.
She studied him for half a second. "Rules?"
"No shooting each other. No trailing into extracts. Call red-eyes if we see them," he said.
"And if Riggs shows?" she asked.
"Not friendly," Barry said.
"Good." She shifted her rig. "We run parallel. Not a squad."
"Not a squad," he agreed.
Collars buzzed.
FIELD MODE: ENGAGED
The gate rolled up.
Murderhobos sprinted straight; a couple of jittery duos peeled right. Barry and Lena slid left without fanfare, spacing out—five meters between them, their shadows overlapping but never quite touching.
Field 2 at night was neon rot and wet concrete. Signage flickered; rain on sheet metal laid a constant hiss over everything.
HUD:
T+00:03
First block: quiet. They hit separate doors on the same building—Lena taking ground floor, Barry the stairs.
In a second-floor flat, Barry scored:
One intact meal pack.
One half-box of 9mm (good).
A roll of gauze he didn't quite trust.
Downstairs, through the thin floor, he heard Lena's low mutter and the clink of metal. No shouting. No shots.
He stepped back into the hall as she came out of another unit. They exchanged a look, quick:
Anything?Enough.
"Two more houses, then we swing," Lena said quietly. "Timer?"
"T+05:41," Barry said. "Plenty."
They moved.
This time the tension wasn't from monsters. It was from knowing exactly how fast things went wrong.
Third house, Barry found a bathroom stash: water tablets, a sealed bottle, an old but sealed NEXUS med strip.
He was stuffing them away when the light in the tiny room flickered, then snapped solid—NEXUS emergency strip going from dull orange to bright white for a heartbeat.
His collar buzzed.
SCAN PULSE // FIELD 2
The HUD flashed a grid sweep passing through the building.
He braced, expecting a bot to lock on.
Nothing.
He stepped into the hallway.
At the other end, a Blue-Eye quad drone hovered outside a window, lens blazing bright. It swept the corridor, a cone of blue light passing directly over Barry.
For a frozen second, he felt like a bug under glass.
Then the drone's lens flicked—brief, glitchy static. The cone narrowed, slid past him, and fixed instead on someone moving behind Lena in the street.
Shots spat from a side alley. The drone rotated, fired a burst—clean, precise. Someone yelped; a rifle clattered.
The Blue-Eye logged something, turned away.
Barry exhaled.
Lena looked up, caught his eye through the broken stairwell.
"Move," she mouthed.
He didn't tell her the drone had looked right at him and then decided he wasn't there.
Later.
They cut toward south extract, moving faster now.
Halfway there, they almost ran straight into Riggs.
He stepped out from between two cars with another guy in tow, rifle hanging easy. Same shaved head, same shark smile; shoulder bandaged under his armor.
"Well, look at that," Riggs said.
Barry and Lena split naturally, angling apart, both guns low but ready.
"No beef," Barry said. Calm. "Run your lane."
"Sure," Riggs said. "Just remember who twitched last time."
His buddy snickered.
Lena's voice was mild. "You want round two in earshot of three other guns and a Blue drone? Be my guest."
Riggs' gaze flicked past them; there were, indeed, other runners in view. A Blue-Eye sentry pod perched on a lamppost, lens watching.
He smiled wider. "We're all friends," he said.
Barry's skin crawled at the word.
Riggs peeled off, sauntering back into the dark. His friend glanced once over his shoulder, calculating odds, then followed.
"First chance, he'll park a bullet between your plates," Lena said softly.
"I know," Barry said.
"You don't act like it," she said. "Next time he's inside twenty, don't wait for him to turn."
He didn't argue.
T+14:12
They reached south extract with a minute to spare. A crushed parking lot, a green shimmer in the corner, two Blue-Eyes watching.
Three runners in the zone already; mix of gear, no visible Riggs.
Lena stopped just outside the field.
"This is me," she said.
"You're not—?" Barry started.
"Second window," she said. "My client's crate isn't full yet."
A choice. Never simple.
"Stay off mid," he said. "Riggs'll be stupid."
"Always," she said.
She hesitated half a breath.
"You did better," Lena added. "Didn't freeze."
"I had help," Barry said.
"Don't rely on it," she said, and stepped back, peeling away toward the dark.
Barry went into the extract.
Collar hum:
SYNCING…
He watched the street while NEXUS touched everything he'd risked his life to carry.
SYNC COMPLETEROUND STATUS: SURVIVEDPERSONAL CREDIT: +19
White flash.
Stack air.
He stepped off the pad, did a fast internal inventory: no new holes, decent haul, a weird Blue-Eye moment to feed Jay.
He checked the schedule board: Lissa still at 7. After the transfer, it'd roll to 8.
One more day.
He should've felt good.
Instead he kept seeing that scan cone slide over him and hook someone else like the system had blinked.
After we lost, survival wasn't just aim and footsteps. It was starting to feel like a dialogue with a broken god that sometimes forgot you were targetable.
Jay was going to love that.
Barry hit the stairs, already composing how little he'd admit.