That the card key had to be somewhere else.

Map generation may have been random, but it wasn't devoid of reason or sensibility. The keycard wasn't just the most important object to place, it was the only one that mattered at all. It may have been impossible to know for sure where the keycard would end up, but Cesya knew one thing with absolute certainty. The game wasn't just going to casually drop it in her lap, no matter how wide said lap was.

It wasn't guaranteed, but the most likely location for it would be somewhere in the underground facility, furthest and most difficult to reach. Even though there was a chance that it could be up in one of the cranes, or at one of the guard posts, the third of the map she hadn't yet scouted was almost guaranteed to have something of value- if it wasn't there, something to narrow down her search, or make it easier to reach, certainly would be.

None of that would matter if she couldn't get there, however. Her options were severely limited- with no additional movement or utility gear, her only line of approach to that side of the map was the roadway. The one she'd crossed over was far too long and too light on cover to cross safely- and while the other one was shorter, it still necessitated smart use of her cloak. It was too long to traverse in the span of a single cloak charge, but only barely; if she could delay activating it long enough, it would be safe.

Relatively speaking, anyway.

That meant she couldn't use her cloak before she was at least on the road. Cesya had **** but to proceed without her greatest advantage, in an area that had at least a handful of confirmed enemies, with a good chance of more near enough to swarm if the alarm was raised. As it was, she couldn't even rely on her grenades- if she were to get caught in the blast, her cloak would fully drain- and even if she was a safe distance away, using one would alert far too many guards.

Cesya took a deep breath, and holstered her pistol. There was no scenario in which engaging ended well for her. To put it bluntly, she was stuck in a no-win situation. She had the experience to recognize it for what it was, but it didn't frighten her- after enough rounds, one knew how to handle going up against such astronomical odds.

A one-percent chance was still a chance, after all. She took a brave step forward, launching herself out from the shadowed container. What started as a brisk pace was soon a full-on sprint, the first shouts from surprised guards pushing Cesya to pour on as much speed as she could muster. Forsaking cover entirely as she was, all that mattered was how quickly she could reach the other side of the makeshift arena.

She honestly wasn't surprised when time froze, her vision fading to monochrome crimson just as the first burst of automatic gunfire rang out. There was no pain- only the slightest tingling in her back and side indicating where she'd been tagged- and she was so used to the game-over transition by now that fading to black was more calming than anything.

DOWNED - TEAM WIPED - RETURNING TO BASE

She waited for the words to appear in her mind- and for the viewer's screens- before speaking.

"Damn, knew I wouldn't make it. Still, halfway across... not bad."

For a brief moment, Cesya's chat stopped spamming salt-shakers, if only to start spamming a single letter: F.

When Cesya's vision returned to her, there were no signs of the cargo containers or guards, no indication whatsoever of the map she'd just been on. Instead, she was standing in front of folding tables and equipment racks, much the same way she had been when the stream first started. There was no abundance of weaponry or gear upon them this time, however- in fact, they were completely bare, save for one specific object.

Sitting dead center on the table was a fairly sizeable tropical drink. From top to bottom, it was a smooth gradient- starting with a rich, bright blue at the widest and lowest portion of the bulb-shaped glass, fading to a very faint, pastel pink at the very top, much like an early dawn's sky. The rim was adorned with a circular slice of lime, and a single, lengthy straw poked up above it, disappearing into the drink entirely despite its own bright orange coloration.

"Not starting off lightly this time, huh? I guess a Dawnstar isn't so bad, though. I'll take anything over that tea Amaya likes so much."

Cesya lifted the glass, largely ignoring the straw and bringing the glass rim directly to her lips. She took this particular drink slow- she could savor this one, especially as it was her first, and she had nothing against this particular tropical cocktail. The top layer was incredibly sweet, comprised of a syrup tasting primarily of cherries and lychee- though the further one went down, the more the fruity, citrus flavor of the blue lemonade base shone through. The lime garnish only helped emphasize that tart kick, and it was hard to finish one off without wanting another.

As much as she liked them, though, one would be plenty for now. After all, there would be plenty more drinks in Cesya's future, up until she finally got her hands on that coveted keycard. If every loss meant a drink like the Dawnstar, if every failure lead to a potent tropical drink, or an ancient deep-red wine, or a stygian-dark, ritual-grade glass of tea, well.

Unless her first drink was some kind of outlier, Cesya probably didn't have as many rounds as she thought she would have before her composure and focus began to crumble. She wasn't just taking things slow to savor an enjoyable drink and make the most of it before certain sensations began to set in- in the back of her mind, her mental gears were turning faster than ever.

She couldn't allow herself to get stuck in another no-win situation. Rolling for a new map was the correct call in her previous round- but now, she had nothing to show for her potentially best run, no momentum, no new gear, nothing but the hope that her next map would be more forgiving.

What was she going to do if it wasn't? Down another drink and try again? Was there really a point where it was worth giving up on the objective- giving up on any chance of success- all for the potential of an easier future run? Was it really worth it to try and secure a largely unknown benefit, one that could be lost so easily?

Cesya certainly didn't think so. In her experience, anything that reduced one's chance of success was a terrible play, and anything that did it for a potential but unreliable later increase was nothing more than a gimmick, a last-minute Hail Mary, a **** gambit only for those who had already given up entirely.

Cesya hadn't had enough drinks to start relying **** gambits- and she wouldn't have to, if she avoided resorting to them now. She set the glass back down on the table- now empty- and let out a calm exhale as the world around her dissolved.

GENERATING MAP.............