The message burned in my vision. White letters against the dark background of the room.
[WE SAW YOU AT THE START.]
My blood turned to ice.
My safe room was not safe anymore. It was a trap. A cage. The silence that had been a comfort was now filled with menace. They saw me. They knew where I was. Who were "we"? The game didn't have teams in a free-for-all deathmatch. And it definitely did not have a private messaging system. The rules of this world were different. And I was just beginning to learn them.
My eyes snapped to my minimap. My new Acoustic Sensor skill was active. The circle of my radar was wider now, giving me a better view of the area. I looked for the two red dots I had seen before. The ones moving together like a team.
They were still there. They had stopped moving near the spot where I saw them attack another lone player. The third dot, their victim, was gone from the map. Eliminated.
Then, the two red dots moved.
They turned at the same time, in perfect unison. They started moving across the map. Their movement was fast and purposeful. They were not wandering. They were not searching.
They were moving directly toward my building.
Panic grabbed me by the throat. It was sharp and cold. They knew. They somehow knew exactly where I was hiding. The table I had pushed against the door felt like a useless toy. They were coming for me.
My first instinct was to stay. To wait by the door and shoot them when they came in. It was a classic defensive strategy. A choke point.
But my gamer brain, the cold, logical part of me that had survived so far, screamed no.
Bad idea. A terrible idea. There are two of them. You have one gun. They can throw a grenade through the door. One can provide cover while the other one storms the room. You are in a box. You are trapped.
I had to get out. I had to escape before they arrived.
I pushed myself to my feet. My legs were shaking. I looked around the small, dark room. The single door was a death sentence. But there was another way out.
I remembered the map. This building, the small one near the edge of the market, had a weakness. A small window in the back wall. It opened into a narrow alley. It was my only chance.
"My objective is to survive," I whispered. The words were becoming a mantra. A way to focus my mind. "Permadeath is real. I cannot die here."
I checked my ammo. [AMMO: 12/36]. A full magazine in my pistol, and three more in reserve. It felt like nothing against two coordinated players. I could not afford a real fight. I had to run. I had to hide.
I crept to the back of the room. The window was small and covered in dirt. The red dots on my minimap were getting closer. I could almost feel their presence through the HUD. They were 50 meters away. Then 40. They were moving fast.
I reached for the window latch. It was old and rusted. I pulled on it slowly, carefully. I tried to make no noise.
Squeak.
The sound was small, but in the silence, it felt as loud as a gunshot. I froze. My whole body went stiff. Did they hear that?
I stared at the minimap. The two red dots did not stop. They did not slow down. They kept coming at the same steady pace. They had not heard it. I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding.
I slowly pushed the window open. It swung outward into the alley. Cool night air washed over my face. This was my escape.
I put my pistol in its holster so my hands were free. I climbed through the window. It was a tight fit with the body armor on. My gear scraped against the frame. I dropped down into the alley, landing on my feet with a soft thud.
I was outside. I was exposed. The alley was dark, filled with deep shadows. But I felt naked. Vulnerable.
I started to run. I did not sprint. I tried to move quietly. I remembered a technique from the game. Players called it "strafe-walking." Moving at an angle to reduce the sound of your footsteps. It felt clumsy in this real body. I was not a super-soldier made of pixels. I was just Leo. But the muscle memory from thousands of hours of playing helped. I moved faster than a walk, but quieter than a run.
The alley opened up into a small, trash-filled courtyard. There was a large metal trash container there. It was good cover. Solid.
I slid behind it, pressing my back against the cold metal. My heart was a frantic drum in my chest. From here, I had a clear view of the building I just escaped from. I could see the alley and the window I came through.
I did not have to wait long.
The players arrived. They were not two.
They were three.
The third player must have been running right behind the others, his red dot hidden on my minimap. Three against one. I would have been dead in seconds if I had stayed in that room.
They moved like a professional team. A wolf pack. They communicated with silent hand signals. Two of them went to the front door of the building. The third one, moving with silent speed, circled around to the back. He took up a position watching the window I had just escaped from.
It was a perfect tactical maneuver. They had planned to trap me. To block both exits and kill me in the middle.
They were not average players like me. They were skilled. Organized.
And they were better equipped.
I could see their weapons clearly now. The two at the front were holding assault rifles. The man covering the back window was holding something bigger. Shorter, but thicker. A shotgun.
My blood ran cold. I knew that weapon. It was an S-12 Shotgun. A monster at close range. One blast from that thing would have turned my 100 HP into zero. Instantly. It was a one-hit kill weapon.
My little P-19 pistol felt like a child's toy.
The two players kicked open the front door and stormed the room. The man with the shotgun stayed outside, his weapon pointed at the window. They were in my old hiding spot. They found it empty.
A moment later, the leader came back out. He was angry. I could hear his voice clearly across the courtyard. It was sharp and full of frustration.
"He's gone! Find him! He can't have gone far!"
The three of them regrouped. They were a tight, dangerous unit. They split up again. They began a systematic search of the area. One went left. One went right. They were checking behind every crate, every broken wall. They were hunting me.
The third man, the one with the shotgun, turned.
He started walking down the alley.
The alley that led directly to my hiding spot.
I held my breath. I pressed myself harder against the trash container, trying to become invisible. My eyes were glued to the minimap. A single red dot had broken from the group. It was moving closer. Getting bigger.
He was ten meters away.
He was coming for me.