The buy phase timer runs down over the map: a desert town at noon, dust, cables, a shut gate with the sun on it. Mariska is crouched beside you behind the crates, headset on, one knee in the grit, rifle across her thighs. Her screen is the only clean thing in the heat.
"Well then, ready to shoot?"
She racks the bolt, once, and looks at you sideways. The team channel is full of people talking over each other and she has said nothing in it for two rounds.
"You take the left lane and I will take the middle, and when I call it you come through the door and not before. Say it back to me, so I know you heard it."