Re: Apocalypse Game

Chapter 152 Convicts

The ten inmates stood before Alan, their expressions ranging from hostility to curiosity. Among them, the man with the mohawk hairstyle called Pinball locked eyes with Alan and asked, "You're the leader? you don't seem much like one"

Another member chimed in, "Hey, he's that kickass sword master, right?"

However, the situation was defused when a skinny African American named Smiley intervened. "You guys, don't be rude," Smiley cautioned, "show some respect." He seemed to carry the weight of his past encounters with Alan.

Alan silently observed the group, recalling the notes provided by Marsh. It was clear that each of these individuals had been convicted of violent offenses. Assault, robbery, and manslaughter—these were serious crimes, although they fell short of murder. Most of them appeared to have connections with gangs or illicit organizations that had landed them in trouble.

As Alan understood, there was a fine line between manslaughter and murder. The government had utilized this distinction to offer these individuals a chance to redeem themselves through the amnesty program, a way to atone for their crimes. Now, they stood before him, potential recruits for the Wolverines unit.

Alan recognized that these inmates might possess valuable skills and experiences that could be harnessed for the benefit of his group. However, he was also aware of the potential challenges and risks in integrating them. Alan decided to engage in a conversation to assess their motivations and intentions.

As Alan scrutinized the group of inmates, he inquired about their motivations, seeking to understand their intentions more clearly.

"Why do you wish to join my unit?" Alan's question hung in the air, inviting a diverse range of responses.

One of the inmates mentioned the unit's reputation for providing ample rations. Another had caught wind of the high-quality weapons that the unit offered. For some, the motivation was as simple as finding a group that would accept them. However, it was a man called Poe, a man who clearly commanded respect among the group, and articulated a sentiment shared by most.

"We're just looking for a better chance to survive this game," Poe asserted.

Alan noted the various motivations within the group. Unlike many of his other unit members, who operated with a structured and disciplined approach, these inmates brought a wealth of experience in confrontational scenarios. They were unafraid of bending the rules to secure their survival. Aware of the potential discord they might introduce, Alan weighed their potential advantages.

Witnessing Alan's hesitation, Poe the man who had taken it upon himself to speak for the group, stepped forward and addressed Alan earnestly.

"Please, sir, give us a chance," Poe implored. "We will not make any trouble."

Milo, who had experienced his own journey of redemption, voiced his support for the inmates.

"Please, Alan, I really think they deserves a second chance," he stated resolutely.

These words struck a chord deep within Alan Hartt. He understood, perhaps better than anyone, the profound significance of a second chance. His rebirth, the opportunity to replay the game, rectify past mistakes, and forge a new path.

However, he remained steadfast in his commitment to the principles that had guided the Wolverines unit. He couldn't allow an undisciplined group to jeopardize the foundation they had built.

In a decisive tone, Alan addressed Milo, setting forth his conditions for their integration into the unit.

"Only if you are willing to lead these people," he declared, making it clear that Milo would be responsible for their conduct and development.

Milo didn't hesitate for a moment. His acceptance was swift, accompanied by a heartfelt expression of gratitude.

"Thank you, Alan," Milo said, his rare smile revealing his genuine appreciation for the trust placed in him.

Alan's decision put an end to any further resistance from Marsh. He then meticulously selected the names of those who would join the ranks of the Wolverines.

Combining his initial roster of 70 Wolverines, the 50 soldiers brought by Marsh, 10 freshly enlisted support members – a combination of crafters and healers skillfully chosen by Bill – and the 10 convicted players, 60 additional members remained to be chosen from Kenny's list, resulting in a grand total of 200 individuals.

"That's all. Tell them all to gather first thing tomorrow morning."

The preparations for their training were set in motion, and Alan wasted no time, returning to the workshop to continue crafting uncommon weapons. There was no room for rest just yet, not when these weapons were critical for the upcoming training session.

However, just an hour after he began to immerse himself in his work, an unexpected notification interrupted his focus.

[You received Status: Sleep Deprivation level three]

[Stamina Regeneration - 60%]

The message was a stark reminder of the physical toll his sleepless efforts were exacting on him. His stamina regeneration was significantly hindered and under these conditions, he would only be less productive. It was evident that he needed rest. In a world that demanded constant vigilance, Alan's fatigue was a formidable adversary.

Alan finally decided to make his way back to his cabin, yearning for some well-deserved rest. Upon entering, he strode toward the balcony, where the refreshing sea breeze greeted his face. He contemplated taking a soothing shower before collapsing onto the inviting bed. However, just as he was about to lie down, a faint knock echoed through the room.

Curiosity piqued, Alan called out, "Who is it?"

In response, a familiar, melodic female voice wafted in from outside. Alan opened the door to find Vicky standing there, adorned in an elegant nightgown.

"Do you need anything, Vicky?" Alan inquired, perplexed by her presence.

The beautiful brunette presented a bottle of exquisite wine and two glasses, her lips subtly teasing. "I thought you might appreciate some company," she suggested with a hint of mischief.

It was one of those moment when Alan's intellectual prowess failed to decipher the logic of the situation.

"So, can I come in?" the girl persisted.

x x x x x x x x x x x x