Exfil at low tide

The extraction point on Mudflat was a rusted pier that only worked at low tide. Everyone in the lobby knew it, so everyone camped it.

Rook and Pell had nineteen minutes left and one bandage between them. Rook's bag held a cracked GPU, two tins of beans and a key that opened nothing either of them had ever found.

They crawled the last stretch through reeds that rustled too loudly. Pell went first. He always went first, and he always said it was because he had nothing worth losing. That was true. His bag held a single spoon.

A shot cracked somewhere to the north, then nothing. The water pulled back from the pier one slow plank at a time.

On the pier, Pell stopped and pointed. Someone had left a note scratched into the rail in a dead player's handwriting: 'GO LEFT'. They went left. Nobody was there.

The timer ran down while the gulls watched. When the screen faded to the loading card, Rook laughed so hard her mic peaked.

They sold the beans and kept the key. Pell kept the spoon.