A voice, low and chewed up by static, said: “You’re the one who broke the seal.”
Marcus turned. The bank’s front doors were open. Outside, the rain had stopped. The street was filled with the other players—the ghosts of a million disconnected matches. They stood motionless, their character models glitching between cops and criminals, their faces all the same default avatar: a hollow-eyed man with a balaclava.
Outside his apartment window, the rain stopped. The streetlights flickered in a pattern he recognized—the same strobe as the police helicopter spotlight from the downtown bank level.
“Heist complete. Hostage situation begins in…”