Hitman: The Evasion Tank

In Survival Island, there are five positions in total. Ranger. An all-rounder specialized in mid-range firefights. Sniper. A long-range dealer focused on distant sniping. Sweeper. A nuker who wields explosives and heavy weaponry. Commander. A supporter who aids the team through drone-enabled map reading. And Hitman. A high-mobility evasion tanker that dictates close-quarters combat.

The Hitman was the most grotesque position among the five. After all, the mere concept of a "tanker" in a gun-based game was absurd. Tanking lead bullets, grenades, and heavy weapons—the very pinnacle of modern science—was supposed to be impossible. Yet there was a reason the Hitman position could exist at all.

"Yeah, I've played them."

"Then this will be quick. The way you play Hitman isn't all that different from a Souls-like."

Prism began searching for a match while explaining the playstyle to me. Ali picked up the explanation from there.

"Just dash to dodge every enemy attack and land all of yours. Easy, right?"

"It's not technically rolling—it's a skill called Dash. And it's definitely not easy."

The core of the Hitman was mobility. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠playstyle revolved around using faster movement speed than other positions and the special skill Dash to evade every incoming attack while dominating close-range fights.

"Anyway, as a Hitman you just have to survive. Staying alive takes priority over fighting."

"Ali and I will take care of the kills, so you don't have to worry too much."

"...Alright, I'll give it a shot."

Right as Prism finished explaining, the match popped. The screen faded to black, then the sound of wind rushed in as a transport plane appeared, soaring over the island.

"Heading to the weapon warehouse again?"

"Yeah. That's where the fights are hottest."

Our drop point was the weapon warehouse. I'd been there five or six times already, so the location felt more than familiar. I threw myself out of the plane among the scattered dandelion-seed parachutes.

It only took a moment before I hit the ground. Unlike before, I immediately shot forward like a bullet straight into the weapon warehouse.

Rat-tat-tat— Sure enough, the second I showed myself a hail of bullets rained from between cover pieces. At least it let me pinpoint the enemies' locations. I slid through the barrage of gunfire, snatching a pistol off the floor.

A Colt .45. A revolver-type pistol that took over five seconds to reload—an absolute piece of junk. But unlike other guns, it had dropped already loaded. In other words, it was more than enough to put holes in the heads of the enemies ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in front of me.

Bang! Bang!

"Hoo..."

That had taken roughly ten seconds. I let out a long breath, trying to calm my adrenaline-fueled heart. Prism's voice immediately followed in my ear.

"Don't stop moving!! Keep going!!"

Bang—!!

As if to prove his point, the moment I stopped, a gunshot rang out from behind me on the right. A bullet tore through the air with a sonic boom and slammed into the exact spot I'd been standing, spraying concrete fragments everywhere.

I barely dodged the shot with a Dash. Prism continued.

"Use your mobility. The second a Hitman stops moving, they become a walking sandbag."

I didn't even have time to reply. My hands were shaking, but I forced them to move. Just like he said, stopping for even a second would mean getting shot by some hidden enemy.

Rat-tat-tat— Gunshots echoed through the warehouse. I charged straight into the storm of bullets. In the dizzyingly fast-moving view, I spotted two enemies total. They popped out from cover, aiming at me the moment they saw me, but I pulled the trigger a fraction faster.

Bang! Bang!

Two more kill logs. Total time elapsed: about thirty seconds. The second enemy had been wearing a helmet, so I had to pump two extra rounds into him to finish the job.

Bang—!!

In that split-second opening, a sniper round flew in from somewhere and punched straight through my left shoulder.

More than half my HP gone from a single hit. On top of that, my magazine was empty after the last fight. Prism spoke to me.

"Don't think. Just move. Your priority is survival, not combat."

Whoosh— The moment I used Dash, my vision stretched long and the scenery in front of me changed instantly. I arrived at the corpses of the two I'd downed first. I quickly opened my inventory and looted their guns, soon finding a familiar submachine gun.

Unlike the previous pistol, the MP5's reload time was only two to three seconds. The fifteen-round magazine was a bit disappointing, but it was enough to put out the immediate fire.

Bang! Bang!!

More enemy gunfire. The moment I finished reloading I circled around cover and hit the remaining enemies from behind. Then I pulled the trigger.

Rat-tat-tat—

Forty seconds. Prism kept talking.

"Enemies won't wait for you to reload. If you reload, you slow down. The moment you slow down, you lose your mobility."

And once a Hitman lost mobility, only death remained.

Bang—!!

The sonic crack of a bullet. A sniper round grazed right past my head. Just as he said, they had no intention of giving me time to reload. Click.

In that case, I'd just have to create my own window.

Piiing———!!

The flashbang I looted from one of the corpses exploded, painting my entire vision pure white. I earned a brief moment of breathing room thanks to it. Prism continued guiding me.

"If you've created time, use it. Find something you can do in that short window."

I squeezed my brain, accelerating my thoughts. I ditched the MP5 I was holding. Then, from among the fallen enemies, I picked up a familiar-looking shotgun.

Clack!

The break-action's signature fast reload. At the same time, the flashbang's duration ended on a knife's edge.

Bang—!!

Another sniper round pierced my body. If I hadn't looted a bulletproof vest from one of the corpses, that would have been fatal. My head burned like it was on fire. Prism spoke to me.

"Of course it's hard. Your head feels like it's going to explode. Your vision is turning white."

Fifty seconds. I nervously spun my view. One enemy far away, aiming right at me. Having located him from the last hit, I didn't hesitate and charged forward.

"But even so, you have to endure."

The aimed barrel and the thin line of my trajectory crossed like a graze. At the same time, my stretched vision snapped back to normal as my airborne body fell toward the ground. The instant my feet touched earth, my view spun at extreme speed. I flicked my wrist, aiming at the enemy who was a beat late in turning his head. The reticle sucked straight toward his skull. I pulled the trigger.

Bang!!

The kill log rose. That had taken one minute total. I finally let out the rough breaths I'd been holding back.

"Haa... haa..."

I looked around. No more enemies in sight. No footsteps either. It looked like there really weren't any left.

"Congratulations, Yume."

Prism approached me as he spoke. From behind him, Ali added a single line.

"Finally fighting like an actual human being."