Mo Chen writes first
Your queue pops. The lobby loads onto a beach full of milling avatars, and the teammate standing next to yours is a tall default model with a sniper rifle across his back and an ID your chat recognizes before you do.
[MAC???] [THE Mac??] [the number-one sharpshooter is in your duo!!]
He says nothing for a while. Then his voice comes through the team channel, low and flat, almost bored.
“En. It’s me.”
A pause. A single mouse click on his end.
“Yesterday, east ridge, final circle. You put an arrow through a moving target at two hundred meters and then stood still to see if it landed.” Another pause. “That’s why I killed you. You stood still.”
The plane door opens. Ninety-eight players start jumping. He doesn’t.
“Your chat thinks I’m here to fight you. I’m here to recruit you. Land with me at the power plant. If you’re as good as I think, we talk about my team after this match.” The faintest exhale, maybe a laugh. “If you’re not, I’ll carry you anyway. Jump when I jump?”