Re: Apocalypse Game

The situation was becoming increasingly dire as the team stood before the sealed steel door. Their objectives were clear: to locate and neutralize the Nazi Dirty Bomb, as well as eliminate the scientists responsible for its creation. All signs pointed to this room as the epicenter of their mission. The high levels of radiation emanating from within only served to reinforce their assumption—the heart of their quest lay behind that forbidding door.

Thankfully, the military had foreseen the challenges they might encounter on this perilous mission. That was precisely why Sergeant Dylan and his support team were an indispensable part of their operation. Among them was a soldier skilled in the advanced level of lockpicking, armed with the necessary lockpick item set to tackle formidable obstacles like the sealed door.

In the game's mechanics, the ability to unlock doors was contingent on the player's skill level and the appropriate tools. With an advanced lockpicking skill, their specialist should have possessed a 100% success rate when it came to opening level 2 safes. However, for more formidable level 3 safes, the odds dropped to a nerve-wracking 50%.

As the lockpicking specialist took his place before the door, the weight of their mission pressed heavily upon him. The countdown for the Weapon of Mass Destruction relentlessly ticked away, serving as a constant reminder of the limited time they had to prevent catastrophe. Tension hung in the air, and the gravity of their situation was inescapable.

With a sense of anticipation, the lockpicking expert began his meticulous work, carefully used the item and inserting them into the lock. The collective gaze of the team fixated on the door, the seconds feeling like an eternity. Each attempt brought a glimmer of hope, but as the first lockpick broke, the tension in the room rose.

Failure followed failure, and five lockpicks lay shattered, consumed by their desperate efforts. Ten precious minutes had passed, and the countdown for the Weapon of Mass Destruction showed no mercy:

[WMD countdown: 27 minutes]

Sergeant Dylan's desperation was palpable as he turned to his team, his voice tinged with urgency. "I'm sorry, I failed. Is there anyone who has more lockpicks? We can't afford to waste any more time!" 

Unfortunately, the situation remained grim. None among them possessed it, and those who did were unwilling to part with it, knowing its scarcity and potential value. In their dire predicament, Captain Farrell reached out to HQ for assistance, but the news was far from reassuring.

A brief communication with headquarters revealed that obtaining additional lockpicks would take a staggering 15 to 20 minutes—a time frame that offered little solace to the beleaguered team. Doubt and despair crept in, and many players found it hard to believe that help would arrive in time to avert disaster.

Marcus, ever quick to voice his frustrations, directed blame at the government for the dire circumstances they now faced. "Huh! We shouldn't have pushed the final battle until the last day! Or we would have more time!" he exclaimed, frustration and regret tainting his words.

Amid this turmoil, the Black Sand Mercenaries had succeeded in securing the area and confirmed that no other entry existed apart from the sealed steel door. Their leader, Cachellos  , cast a contemplative gaze toward Captain Farrell and made his intentions clear.

"I have fulfilled my part of the mission. If you have no alternative means to breach this door, I will be taking my leave."

Cachellos's decisiveness left no room for hesitation. With the limited time remaining, he had no intention of lingering in the face of uncertainty. His plan was to rejoin the main unit, with hopes of still contributing to the capture of the Nazi base and claiming the associated rewards.

On the other hand  the specter of radiation continued to loom ominously:

[You have been exposed to 300 Rad]

[Radiation level three: Max HP -30% & Stamina -30%]

The growing radiation levels posed an increasingly dire threat. There was a genuine concern that they might reach Radiation level 4 or even worse before they could resolve their dilemma. Amid this uncertainty, Captain Farrell responded to the question lingering to their mind.

"We can't all just leave," he asserted, recognizing the need for someone to remain behind in the event that the door could be opened. However, not everyone shared his resolve. Cachellos, the leader of the Black Sand Mercenaries, wasted no time in making his stance clear. "Don't count on us," he declared, directing his men to prepare for departure. His decision influenced a few other players to join him in exiting the hazardous environment.

Captain Farrell found himself unable to prevent their departure, and with a sense of urgency, he turned to Sergeant Dylan. "Sergeant, I order you to stay and wait here," he commanded. Then, facing the remaining players, he issued another order, laced with authority, "I order you all to stay here as well! Or I will note you for disbanding your task!" His unwavering resolve left little room for dissent.

The departure of Captain Farrell and his trusted men alongside the Black Sand Mercenary contingent elicited frustration from Sergeant Dylan. Angered by the situation, he muttered,

"That mother fuker!"

Nevertheless, he took the responsibility upon himself. Addressing those who had chosen to stay, he told them, "You all can leave; I will stay and take the responsibility."

With those words, most of the players quickly departed, leaving only Alan's group, who felt relatively secure thanks to their gas masks, and the three Blood Patriot veterans.

However, it was during this critical moment that Sergeant Dylan realized a disconcerting fact. "Where the f**k is Alan?!" he exclaimed, his concern growing palpable. "Why the hell did he leave his men?!"

In the midst of their confusion, a distant voice reached their ears. "I am here... I am here!" 

Sergeant Dylan couldn't hide his frustration any longer. "What the hell, where did you go?" he demanded, his tone a mix of exasperation and relief.

Without offering an immediate explanation, Alan made his way directly to the sealed safe, carrying with him a small tank. He addressed Dylan urgently, his request clear, "Dylan... you must have a drill, don't you?"

Dylan, slightly bewildered by Alan's sudden appearance and request, stammered, "That's Sergeant for you and... err..  yes... I have... what do you need it for?"

Alan didn't waste any time. He knew Dylan well enough to anticipate the military supplies he carried. What he needed was the;

[Name: Strong Arm Mini Rig]

[Type: Tools]

[Rarity: Uncommon]

[Attributes: None]

[Effect: To drill hole]

[Able To Bring Outside The Game: Yes]

As Alan commenced drilling a hole into the thick steel door, the rest of the group watched in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Some, like Vicky and Daniel, couldn't help but smile at the unexpected turn of events.

"Alan, you should bring your team to leave now! Go follow the mercenaries!" Dylan once again suggested, concerned for their safety.

However, Alan's response was unexpectedly resolute. "The mercenaries are leaving? That's good... More reward for us," he remarked, indicating his determination to see the mission through.

With precise and steady hands, Alan spent the next two minutes drilling a hole into the thick steel. He took great care not to pierce too deeply and inadvertently break a safety glass inside. When he finished, he turned to Dylan and said.

"Give me some water!"

Sergeant Dylan promptly ordered his men, "Give him some water; it's freaking hot in here!"

To the astonishment of everyone present, Alan poured the water into the hole he had drilled. He then moved swiftly, grabbing a tank he had found in the factory's utility room and emptied its contents into the same hole.

Confusion and concern rippled through the group, and someone finally voiced their bewilderment, "What the hell are you doing, Alan?"

Alan took a few steps back and explained his impromptu strategy, "I put water in the locking mechanism and froze it with nitrogen... Now we wait."

[WMD countdown: 15 minutes]

As the countdown for the Weapon of Mass Destruction continued, the sealed door suddenly emitted a creaking sound. Alan's eyes lit up with determination as he declared,

"Yes! The lock is broken! Be prepared, Milo!"

Milo, positioned himself for action. With all his might, he grasped the lever, successfully turning it to signify that the lock had indeed been opened.

"Alright, guys, get ready to enter!"