Re: Apocalypse Game

The Black Sand Corporation's reputation as one of the largest private military companies in the world preceded them. Their presence in the Apocalypse Game was both notorious and influential. They specialized in providing players to different cities for the game, offering their services at an exorbitant cost. The money earned from these ventures fueled their training programs, constantly churning out new soldiers. To the corporation, the existence of the Apocalypse Game was nothing more than a profitable business venture.

Having experienced numerous encounters with mercenary groups in his previous life, Alan knew how formidable and unpredictable they could be. Some mercenaries became his allies, working together to achieve common goals, while others were formidable opponents who made survival all the more difficult.

As he stood before the group of men in dark uniforms from the Black Sand Corporation, Alan's calm demeanor belied the tension in the air. He had expected the mercenary group to take an interest in him after his successful debut in the Apocalypse Game. Their sharp gazes scrutinized him, sizing him up as if assessing his worth.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Alan greeted them casually, maintaining a nonchalant tone to hide his true emotions. Behind the facade of tranquility, he knew that crossing paths with the Black Sand Corporation could be both advantageous and dangerous.

There were four of them, all gazing at Alan with sharp, scrutinizing eyes. Their imposing presence would have easily intimidated most people, but Alan remained unfazed.

"You are Alan D'Angelo?" asked the baldy man, his voice carrying authority and experience. From the man's uniform, Alan deduced that he held a squad leader rank. However, Alan didn't recognize him, which suggested that this particular individual might have met his demise early in the game, possibly in the next round.

"We would like to know which group you belong to?!" the baldy man demanded, his tone assertive.

Alan answered casually, "Group? I belong to no group. I'm just a civilian trying to survive the game like everyone else."

His calm and collected response seemed to annoy the man and the rest of the group. It only reinforced their belief that Alan was not an ordinary player.

"Do you think of us as fools!?" the man retorted, his frustration evident.

"No.. of course not... I dont really know you… I wouldn't know"

Once again, his nonchalant reply irked the man and the group, adding fuel to the fire. However, before the situation could escalate further, a figure approached from behind Alan—a US military soldier, Sergeant Dylan O'Connor.

"Any problem here?" said the African American sergeant, his voice steady and commanding.

"No, Sergeant, no problem at all," the baldy man replied, his demeanor slightly shifting in the presence of the military figure.

The baldy man's intense gaze bore into Alan once again as he delivered a stern warning, "Whoever you are, do not cross with us."

"Understood," Alan replied calmly, acknowledging the man's caution.

Once the mercenary group departed, Sergeant Dylan O'Connor turned to Alan, his curiosity evident. "You know them?"

"No, Sergeant, we're just acquainted now," Alan said, offering a half-hearted smile. "You know, the more friends, the better."

Dylan sighed, recognizing that Alan had a way of attracting attention, both good and bad. "So have you thought about our offer? Do you want to join the military?"

The question caused a stir among Alan's companions, Vicky and Luis. They knew that if Alan decided to join the military, their paths might diverge, and it would significantly impact their own journeys in the game.

Alan maintained his composure as he replied, "I really haven't decided, Sergeant. It's a big decision, and I need some time to think it through."

Not willing to let the matter drop, the sergeant pressed on, "What do you need to be convinced?"

Alan chuckled softly, appreciating the sergeant's persistence. "Well, how about starting with the reward you promised before? That might help me consider the offer."

"Alright, follow me to the command center," Dylan said, leading Alan through the bustling corridors of the US military base.

As they walked, Vicky and Luis exchanged worried glances. "He's not really joining the military, is he?" Vicky whispered.

####

Inside the command center, the atmosphere was tense and focused. Armed personnel moved with precision, their eyes constantly scanning screens and maps displaying vital information about the ongoing Apocalypse Game. The room buzzed with a sense of urgency as they strategized and coordinated their efforts to tackle the ever-changing challenges.

Dylan, the US military sergeant, led Alan to a separate room on the left wing of the command center. This room was the armory, meticulously organized and stacked with an impressive array of weapons. The sight was both awe-inspiring and somber, knowing that each weapon had played a role in the struggles and sacrifices of previous players.

"You can choose from any available weapon here," Dylan informed him with a serious tone. The weapons before them ranged from various types of melee weapons, like swords, axes, and hammers, to an assortment of firearms, including pistols, shotguns, and rifles.

In all honesty, the weapons that the Government offered as rewards were all second-hand items. On top of that, all of them were just of common grade. Even so, no one dared to belittle these items.

The reason was not just because common weapons were still rare to be found or cost a lot of survival points to buy, but also due to the well-known fact that all these weapons had been used by deceased players from the last round.

In other words, Alan was currently standing in a weapon graveyard, with each weapon having an untold story to tell.

"For your A rank achievement, You can choose one melee item and one firearm each."

As he heard that, Alan gave his thanks with an upturned face and quickly made his way to choose the weapons.

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