Everybody is in position.

  Secured in the farthest corner of the course are Rease and Ko-lee; Rease at the top of a ladder in a retrofit lookout, with Ko-lee parked at the bottom, behind cover. Ella and Caz-V are tucked away in the corner of the "central" room, and even though I know exactly where they're located, the shadows fall across their hiding spot in such a way that it makes it nearly impossible to see them. Finally, I'm on the right side of the course, crouched behind what appears to be a dismantled cart of some sort. The half built metal structure forms a mid-sized barrier near the back of the elongated room, giving me a clear line of sight both to both doors.

  "Well, doors is a strong word. They're like hatches that swing out sideways. I think this whole space is and or was some sort of shipping container, maybe? Although I don't know what it would ship with access hatches like that. Probably something murder adjacent though," I think, my mind feeling scattered as I wait for the match to begin. The one on the wall to my left leads out into the central area with the Z, while the one directly across from me leads into the back of the course. "If things go sideways, that's my route out. I can basically beeline straight to Ko-lee from here, and there's enough corners that I doubt they'd be able to get a clean shot on me."

  "Although with the door being over there, and me over here, won't I just get trapped when slash if they come in?" part of my mind asks. "Standing near the door isn't really much better. I guess I could always get really dug in here, and try to pull something like what Caz-V and Ella are gonna do." I shake my head. "No, bad plan," I tell myself, resisting the impulse to full tuck into the corner to hide away. "My job is mobility. That's the opposite of mobile. I can't just start improvising like 30 seconds before the match starts." There's a clock in the corner of my vision, counting down the seconds to the start of the match, and I box breathe as I watch it tick down towards zero.

  "Four seconds in... four seconds hold... four seconds out," I repeat in my head. Each second drags on, and I can feel the pressure build in my lung each time I hold my breath. My body is convinced I'm going to explode from the pressure, even though I know logically I'm capable of holding my breath for four seconds at a time. "Three... two... one..." The instant the clock hits zero, a shrill whistle echo's out, bouncing off metallic walls, causing the tips of my fingers to tingle. "Game on," I think, straining my ears for the sounds of the other squad. I pull apart the ambient silence in my mind, examining each piece before discarding it.

  "Is that heavy footfalls on creaking metal flooring? Or maybe just an expanding gas pipe? They couldn't have pushed in that fast. Is that chatter? Am I just hallucinating? Auditory pareidolia?" I ask myself, at each sound that passes my eardrums. From spawn, Azarinth has three options; left, right, or center. I try to imagine the debate, but I don't know the members well enough to make an accurate simulation in my head. "Which path is the most appealing for them? Are they gonna try to big brain outplay us? Try to pull some 5D chess maneuvers type shit? Or are they going to try to fight us head on? Crazy dumb play, but maybe they think they're just better in a firefight, I don't know. Also, how well do they know the space? I feel like I barely saw them-"

  CRACK

  The sound of a high powered rifle causes me to startle, and I feel my heart rate jump up a notch. "Okay okay okay... it was Rease, that was for sure Rease. I don't know why he took a shot without sending a message or giving a call out though; maybe he thought he could get a lucky shot?" I feel my fingers itch, the urge to send a subvocalization message to ask, but I squash the impulse. "No, if he's busy or something then I'm just distracting him. Just wait for the call out." The anticipation is making my bones itch, and my teeth are chattering, despite the neutral temperature of the room. I hold my angle, desperately straining to hear anything at all. "Maybe I should peek out the door," I think, before another part of me shuts it down. "Absolutely not. Stay right the fuck here. Stay put."

  "Although... I could be fast..." I finger the trigger of the Grakata I have pointed at the entrance to the room I'm in, rubbing up and down on the knurled texture. I can feel my arm shake from the adrenaline, and the gun feels light, too light. The gun has a single clip, and I have two grenades strapped to my waist, and I don't just want to use them, I need to use them. "Microcosm," my mind tells me. I don't even know what the thought means at first, until I put the pieces together. "Microcosm of New War? Of being too cautious IRL? I think I'm appropriately cautious. There's no do overs in real life," I remind myself. "Although... I guess this isn't real life. If there was ever a time to take a risk..." I think, already rising out of my crouched position. At that exact moment, I see a message flash into the top left hand corner of my screen.

  RT: Five V

  We had all decided on labels for each part of the course, and the message meant that they were pushing up the right instead of the left. More specifically, they were passing by a tangle of bars and pipes that prevented passage, but would let gunfire through. It placed them about 50 feet behind me, or 70 feet if I included the length of the room I needed to travel to get to the door. The odds of them entering this room are low, but I'm also basing them on what I would do. "This leads nowhere unless they're trying to circle all the way around for some reason. Still, I could always hit them with a grenade as the enter, assuming they end up actually doing that. A one v threeish trade is good numbers," part of me thinks.

  "Ko-lee is gonna kill me if I don't fall back," goes another part. "I have to do something though! Falling back is just pushing the problem down the line!" I argue with myself. "Falling back is regrouping, which is better odds, which is the better play!" The back and forth is ratcheting up my heart rate, and I keep bouncing from a crouched to a standing position. My leg muscles feel like coiled springs, and I struggle to keep my hands from squeezing tight on the cool metal pipe next to me. I want to do but I can't tell if it's the right decision, or if I'm compromised by the adrenaline in my veins.

  Even though I know it's just a simulation, just training, that winning or losing isn't a big deal, I feel the pressure of having this succeed weigh heavy. Even though I'm not in charge of the squad, the plan had been mostly my creation. "Fuck me, it doesn't matter, not really!" another thought says. "Honestly, I should just go for it. Cook a grenade, use the hatch door as cover, toss it and run. If they come in this hall while I'm still in here, then I'm cooked, but if they're in here while I'm retreating, I can toss one in here too. A little column A, a little column B." It's enough to convince myself, and I find I'm already at the hatch door, my hand on the chunky inset handle.

  I place my ear against the rough metal, but it's too thick for me to hear through it. "This is the dumbest plan," I think with a grin. Regardless of what I think of the plan, it feels good to do something, to not react passively, for once. With my left hand, I swing the hatch door out, and with my right, I hit the button to arm the grenade. There's nothing subtle about the action, and as the hatch door hits a 90 degree angle, I hear the sound of surprised voices. "Oh, damn, they moved up fast," I think. I don't have a visual on them, but it's pretty clear they have one on me, as bullets start hitting the door. Even though I know they're only simulation rounds, each clang of polymer on metal sends a spike of adrenaline through me, and my knuckles turn white as I grip the handle like a lifeline.

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  I'm unable to see where they're located, but I use the whizzing and snapping sounds to make an educated guess. I swing my arm around the door and huck the grenade blindly, my aim based entirely off the mental map I have of the space. My hand and arm are only exposed for maybe a second, but it's still not fast enough, as I feel a round hit my lower arm. "Fuck!" I shout, as a spike of pain from the impact travels to the tips of my fingers, and up towards my elbow. "Shit," I think, as I swing the hatch door shut, not waiting for an explosion. There's a purple mark about half way past my wrist, and everything below that point is frozen. My wrist won't rotate, and I'm unable to move any of my fingers. "Well there goes my throwing arm," I think with a touch of absurd glee. I sprint for the next hatch door as well, and swing that one shut, placing myself in what I've mentally dubbed the "back part" of the course.

  Just a staircase and a corner, and I'm home free! Well, relatively speaking since I'd still be in the fight and stuff, but I needed to use clotra on my arm. If I didn't, I'd "bleed out", but to be fair an arm wound like this means I have a bit of time. "Pressing issue sort of kind of, but not pressing pressing," I think, before cracking the hatch door open a few inches. Just enough to toss another grenade, but not enough for them to squeeze through, although the second I do the damn thing flies open and tries to knock me on my ass. Too bad they don't know about the foot trick!

  It's not really a "foot" trick specifically, it's just utilizing physics against them. The trick is to place a foot near one of the points farthest from the hinge and then - assuming that they were pushing on the center of the door, which is most people reaction when faced with a door that won't open - they'd need like, five or ten times as much effort to open it as I do to keep it closed. I learned this literally all the way back when I was a kid and when I was just a little girl kind of sort of, I could almost hold it shut against my Dad, which means that as a 29 year old I can almost hold it shut against 5 well abled recruits. "Get Clem!" I shout, a giggle of manic euphoria bubbling up out of my throat. I use my now free hand to grab the other grenade, then arm it, then toss it into the air slightly to trigger the cooking process. They shout something back at me, but I don't process it, because it's not particularly relevant when I have a live grenade in my hand.

  "Watch out for this grenade I'm about to throw at you!" I shout in English. I know they won't understand it so I'm not actually giving them a warning, but I'm honestly just having so much fun that I just need to say anything, even if they don't understand. "And I drop bombs!" part of my mind sings at me. Unfortunately, at about the same time I'm about to throw my grenade through the ever widening crack, I see an oblong shape fly over my head. "You dropped this!" I yell in Origin, shoving my own grenade back through. The pressure on the door decreases, and the instant it does, I turn to sprint. I don't know how much time I have, but there's a corner only a few steps away that might or might not shield me from the blast, depending on where the grenade they threw ended up.

  It is enough, or maybe it's the distance, or maybe it's something else since I never turn to check or verify the explosion, but I hear it go off, and it doesn't hit me. Another bubble of excitement, a dopamine rush buzzing down my back and my legs and my arms, making me feel like I could float away at any moment. I take the stairs up to the ledge three steps at a time, with the intent to follow it around to the back to where Ko-lee is in cover, so that I can get the simulation clotra and fix my arm. I reach the final stair, and I round the corner, my eyes peeled for where Ko-lee is, or likely will be, assuming she hasn't moved.

  "Love!" I shout, and I see her peek from around a pillar, one of the four holding up the lookout where Rease is stationed. Her eyes widen, and I open my mouth to tell her it's just my lower arm, and it's not a big deal, but I can't. I can't do anything, I can't speak, I can't move. I feel myself falling, my legs immobile, my arms unable to stop the descent. I hit the ground, face first, my Grakata skittering out along the metal floor as I land. I hear Ko-lee yelp, a scream cut short, and the back of my head starts to ache. "Damn it, I never even fired the thing," I think, as I lay on the floor. I listen as Ko-lee shouts a command to Rease, as sim bullets whizz over my head. A few times they strike my "corpse"; shots gone wild.

  "Ow, hey, those still hurt," I think, my face pressed into the ground. Every part of my body is still buzzing, but I can't do anything but breathe, and eventually the hormones drain, leaving me physically tired, but my mind a touch more clear. "Just a little mania, as a treat" I joke, as I stare at the rusty metal flooring. Eventually I hear footsteps pass by me in the wrong direction, and a pit forms in my stomach. "Son of a bitch, did Ko-lee and Rease get got? That didn't sound like a squad of five, but Azarinth would only be moving up if they weren't being suppressed," I think. The game hasn't been called, based on the fact that I still can't move, but the lack of gunfire is leading me to assume that we're just waiting on them to pull the data onto the datamass, and make their way back to spawn.

  Eventually, I'm unable to hear even their footsteps, and I'm left with nothing but my thoughts, while I wait impatiently for access to my body. A few minutes later, I hear a small set of footsteps come up from behind me. "What the hell? Did they hold someone back maybe?" I think, before I feel a pair of hands pat my body. "Oh, woah, hey, take a girl out for a drink before you frisk her corpse for weapons," I think jokingly. My body gets flipped over, and I'm able to get a look at the scavenger. "Oh, howdy Mouse. No drink needed." Her face shows stress and determination in equal measure, and her right hand has a death grip on her Grakata. "Where's yours?" she whispers to me. The message interface is disabled, and I can't speak, but I'm still able to move my eyes, and so I shift them up and to the right, where I vaguely remember hearing it skitter off to.

  She stares at me for a moment, trying to interpret the eye charades, then gives me a nod. She steps over me, and I lose track of her, this time left to stare at the ceiling instead of the floor. A few seconds later, I see a face pop back up in my field of view. "Found it, thank you!" she whispers, a smile on her face. "Gee bill, why does your mom let you have two Grakata's," I think to myself. Nearly two minutes go by, and I start praying for literally anything to happen at all. Some greater power is apparently listening, because only a few seconds later, I hear a long BRRRRRRRRT; the sound what I assume is two full magazines getting dumped from something Grakata-esque.

  "I bet that would've been cool to see, but this is cool too I guess," I think sarcastically, as my eyes trace the nondescript ceiling above me. "Ah, yes, the roof is made of roof." I keep my ears peeled for any other sounds, but the space is entirely silent. "I don't remember hearing returning gunfire. She couldn't have got them all because I'm still stuck here, but how did they get her? Ugh, annoying. Again, I would literally commit serial murder for an ipod full of music right now."

  I fiddle with the headset using intent based controls, flicking through menus and options, trying to find a way to tap into "radio", or anything along those lines. I accomplish little in the excruciating 8 or so minutes of silence, until I'm startled by three gunshots; two in rapid succession, and one more a second later. The moment that last gunshot goes off, my limbs fall free from their frozen position, and I sit straight up, feeling a touch sore from being stuck in one position for so long.

  "Dying sucks."