Second game of 'Exploit Zero - Mission Critical'
Specialist123 lay sprawled on his bed, eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling. It had been two weeks since the mission went south, and the sting of failure still lingered. No updates from corporate. No word. No knock on the door from the Judges.
That silence was almost worse than a bullet.
Then came the chime.
The soft, unmistakable ping of a message hitting his secure line. He bolted upright, heart racing. Was this it? A purge order? A second chance?
Fingers flew across the interface as he launched the decryption algorithm. Lines of encrypted code shimmered, then resolved into a single, terse message.
Corporate wasn’t happy - no sugarcoating that. The last op had been a bust. But they hadn’t written him off entirely. According to the message, his hacking skills still held value.
He was being reassigned.
New teammates. New mission.
He was to rendezvous with a fresh DAU and move under escort through hostile corporate territory—destination: a secured data farm deep inside rival lands. A black site where specialists like him were either elevated or erased.
Specialist123 exhaled slowly, the weight of the message settling in. This wasn’t redemption. This was evaluation.
And failure wasn’t an option this time.
The heart of downtown pulsed with neon reflections, casting erratic glows across clusters of budget lodgings and bustling noodle stalls packed with exhausted workers and synth junkies. The streets vibrated with the muted hum of passing skycabs, rain pooling in fractured pavements to mirror the harsh luminescence of towering corporate ads.
Each DAU entered the sprawl from opposite ends, their missions concealed, their paths unknowingly intertwined.
Turn 1
TeamABC took the initiative. SpecialistABC moved first, slipping through the urban sprawl like a shadow - silent, unseen. RoninABC deployed close behind, covering angles and keeping tight with her teammate. Meanwhile, RazorABC peeled off, heading in a different direction entirely, flanking wide into the city haze.
On the other side of the block, Team123 made their move.
Acting on his teammates’ suggestion, Specialist123 ducked into the Happy Panda noodle bar, blending in with the late-night crowd. The sizzle of hot woks and the chatter of oblivious patrons provided a soft, chaotic cover - his hope was simple: it was a shield. No DAU would risk opening fire in public.
Ronin123 took a more aggressive stance. He scaled the exterior of the noodle bar, finding a solid perch on the rooftop. From there, he scanned the dimly lit alleys below, looking to catch the glint of a scope or the flicker of movement through his optics.
Razor123 wasn’t built for stealth, but he did what he could - hunkering behind a jersey barrier near the edge of the engagement zone. But his bulk didn’t do him any favours - he stuck out just enough to draw a trained eye.
For now, all agents remained in incog mode - hidden identities, concealed intent. No open combat yet. Just tension rising.
Everyone was waiting for the first shot.
Turn 2
Once again, TeamABC made the first move.
RazorABC lunged from the shadows, revealing himself to Team123 with a dramatic flourish. But he miscalculated - badly. He hadn’t expected how fast Razor123 could move for someone built like a reinforced riot shield. In seconds, the bulky operative was on him, slamming into him with full force.
Meanwhile, SpecialistABC and RoninABC advanced low and silent, moving in tight formation. They weaved through the back alleys and cluttered side streets, staying well out of Team123’s line of sight. No noise, no tells - just calculated momentum.
Up top, Ronin123 had a bird’s-eye view of the unfolding melee. He tracked the brutal clash between the two razors but couldn’t shake a feeling in his gut. Something wasn’t right. Where were the others? The field felt too quiet. Too clean.
Trusting instinct over optics, Ronin123 climbed down from his rooftop perch and took cover behind a jersey barrier, vanishing from open sight.
Back in the noodle bar, Specialist123 heard the distant clash - metal on flesh, a muffled grunt. Then came the shift in the crowd. Curious civilians started drifting toward the noise, eager for a glimpse of violence.
Time to move.
He slipped out of the Happy Panda and sprinted across the open plaza. As he reached the automated turret node, a thought flashed through his mind: Should I hack it? Turn it on them?
But the node showed no targets, and no threat was visible through the shifting crowd. Mission protocol echoed in his brain: Preserve the asset. Survive the op.
Without hesitating, Specialist123 made a break across the square, diving into cover behind a service kiosk. The game was still unfolding, and the shadows still held secrets.
Turn 3
Razor123 charged in with unrelenting fury, landing a brutal series of strikes that left RazorABC barely standing - three devastating wounds in rapid succession. The bigger man proved once again that mass and momentum could be a weapon all their own.
Meanwhile, lurking in the shadows, SpecialistABC made his move. In a sudden burst of speed, he dashed past the unsuspecting Ronin123, burning all four actions to make a clean getaway—slipping off the board entirely.
That’s when it clicked.
TeamABC had the same objective: exfiltrate their Specialist through Team123’s starting zone.
A quick rules check sparked a brief debate—did "escorted" mean the Specialist had to leave with another team member? In the spirit of extending the match and adding tactical weight, both sides agreed: yes, someone else had to go out with the Specialist.
With that in mind, Specialist123 made his move - safely exiting the field of play. Now the win condition shifted—whoever could successfully extract a second team member would take the game.
As RoninABC maneuvered into what looked like a game-winning position, ready to dash for the exit, Ronin123 stepped up. Calm and calculated, he activated his combat augmentation - Suppression Protocol - targeting the key escape path.
The effect was immediate.
RoninABC stumbled, caught in the suppressive field of fire. She hit the pavement hard, knocked prone, her escape stalled. Worse still, the overload would cost her two actions on the following turn.
With seconds to spare and the balance tipping, the battle was far from over.
Turn 4Razor123 wasted no time - he closed the distance and landed the finishing blow on RazorABC, dropping him with a brutal strike. One less threat on the board.
But the momentum didn’t last.
Fueled by adrenaline, Razor123 pushed to advance - but his reflexes faltered. Two back-to-back failed action rolls left him frozen in place, watching helplessly as a firefight erupted across the plaza.
On the far side, RoninABC hauled herself to her feet, shaken but not broken. With only one action left, she raised her weapon, sighted Ronin123 - and fired.
The shot went wide.
Ronin123 spun and returned fire, but his aim fared no better. The rounds tore into the wall just inches from his target.
Two elite operatives. Two clean misses.
The tension in the plaza was electric - both sides dancing on a knife’s edge, each misstep threatening to tip the balance.
The next move could be the one that ends it all.
TeamABC seized the initiative.
With that, TeamABC secured the win - edging out their rivals in a tight, high-stakes showdown that came down to the wire.
A hard-fought victory, earned in the shadows of neon and steel.
Sounds like a tense game. I can see why each team's objective remains secret to their opponent. How would this game work with multiple players?
ReplyDeleteI think you would need a bigger table - possibly 3 x 3. Each team starts in opposite corners, so I can see this game working for four players.
DeleteThat makes sense. I made a hexagon-shaped mat for my six player gamers so that everyone starts on their own side, equidistant from the center as everyone else. :)
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