CHAPTER 8: NEW ADDITION TO THE TEAM
"First off, I noticed neither of you have a bag or anything to store your supplies. So, I present these high-quality knapsacks!" He held up two sturdy bags before dropping them onto the floor with a dramatic flourish. "Made from tough, flexible material, they can handle some serious weight without a problem. A must-have in this game, don't you think?"
Without waiting for a response, he reached into his backpack and pulled out another item.
"Next up, binoculars. Vital for intel gathering—because let's face it, information is everything out here. With this beauty, we can spot enemies from a distance or scout out safe zones without risking ourselves. Handy, right?"
He placed the binoculars next to the knapsacks before fishing out a third item.
"Now, we've got a flashlight—high-powered and reliable. It'll keep us from stumbling in the dark if we need to move at night or explore an unlit area. Who knows how long this 'game' will drag on, after all?"
He added the flashlight to the growing pile and continued rummaging through his pack, seemingly enjoying the theatricality of his presentation.
"And here," he said, pulling out a sleek baton, "a sturdy blunt weapon to bash some skulls if things get dicey. Trust me, one good swing with this, and you're looking at a serious concussion—if not worse. Plus, I've got a first-aid kit, because, you know, not dying is always a good idea."
With a flourish, he revealed the final items: a coiled rope and a pair of handcuffs.
"Last but not least, tools for restraint. Whether it's securing a hostile or improvising a trap, these bad boys can come in clutch. So, what do you think?"
Anon narrowed his eyes as he examined the growing pile. Though the man's face was hidden behind the gas mask, his tone and confident demeanor screamed satisfaction. Anon was certain the guy was smirking under there, reveling in his perceived usefulness and what he could bring to the group if accepted.
"Where did you get all this?" Anon asked, his tone flat, though his eyes remained locked on the impressive pile of items before him.
"I looted a police station," the masked man replied, his voice casual, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world.
"Is that so… And I'm guessing you've got a gun stashed somewhere after robbing the cops?"
"Funny thing about that," he said with a small shrug. "There weren't any guns—or bullets—left in the station."
Anon narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping into his expression. "None? At all?"
"Zero. Nada. Zilch." He spread his arms in mock disbelief. "Not even a single rusty revolver. Strange, isn't it? But hey, what can you do?"
Anon didn't respond immediately, his solemn gaze flickering back to the pile.
'Was the police station already looted before he got there? No, if that were the case, then all the other valuable items here would've been taken also…'
Meanwhile, the masked man clasped his hands together and shifted his attention to Brea, his voice adopting a breezy tone.
"Anyway, back to business. Is my offer enough to satisfy you, sir? And how about you, miss?" He talked to Brea with a subtle, playful edge to his words. "Was I able to convince you, at least?"
Brea hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. After a moment, she raised her hand slightly, her voice cautious but firm. "...I just have one question."
"Oh?" The masked man tilted his head in exaggerated curiosity, his masked face a parody of surprise. "And what might that be?"
Taking a steadying breath, Brea met his gaze and asked, "Why did you decide to join our group? With all the supplies you have, it seems like you could've easily joined one of the bigger, stronger groups. These items are just too useful and valuable to turn down."
For a beat, silence stretched between them. Then the masked man let out a low chuckle, rubbing his chin theatrically.
"Hehe, that's a good question!" he said, as if genuinely impressed. "Actually, it's related to a condition I have—one that seemed to bother the other groups I tried to join."
"And what condition is that?" Brea asked, her voice dropping a notch.
"Simple," he said, poking at his gas mask with a gloved finger. "I won't reveal my real name or expose my identity. And no matter what, this mask stays on."
"...I might be dumb for asking this, but why hide your identity?" Brea asked, her tone quiet yet curious. "As allies, shouldn't we know everything about each other to really trust one another and have each other's backs?"
The masked man continued to chuckle softly, the sound muffled through his gas mask. "Ah, the million-dollar question. You're not dumb for asking—most people would. And, funny enough, the other groups I tried to join asked me the exact same thing." He gestured loosely with his hands. "My answer to them is the same as my answer to you: it's for the obvious reasons you're already thinking. But if I were to sum it up? It's about protecting myself. The less people know about me, the better. Capeesh?"
Anon's frown deepened, and he cut in with a low growl, "So, what you're saying is, you're not gonna tell us anything about yourself?"
"Exactly," the masked man replied with a casual nod. "And since I'm not giving you my real name, you can just call me Viper. Pretty cool nickname, don't you think? Has a nice ring to it."
Anon's brows knitted together, his expression hardening. This was a difficult bargain. Should they really put their faith in someone who stubbornly refused to share his face, his real name, or anything concrete about himself? Could they trust him enough to let him into their group?
His gaze drifted momentarily to the pile of items Viper had offered. The man was undeniably resourceful, and his supplies could make a real difference. But was it worth the risk of inviting a potentially dangerous individual?
'Damn it… He's got a point though,' Anon thought grimly. 'Just me and Brea alone aren't enough to face larger groups of players.'
Still, the unease gnawed at him. Trusting someone like Viper wasn't a decision to be taken lightly.
"What do you think, Brea?"
Unable to make a decision on his own, Anon turned to his only teammate for input. Brea met his gaze, her eyes locking with his for a brief moment. She could see the struggle and indecision reflected in them, so raw and unguarded. Slowly, her gaze shifted to the masked man, who stood there with his arms spread wide, a silent invitation: Well? What will it be?
"I… I think we should let him join…"
"Are you sure about this?" Anon asked, his voice firm but carrying a hint of hesitation.
Brea nodded. "Yes. We need all the help we can get, especially if there are other groups with more members than ours. At least with three people, we'll seem like less of an easy target."
"That's the spirit!" Viper chimed in with an enthusiastic clap. "With the three of us, other groups will definitely think twice before trying to mess with us. And who knows? Maybe we'll get another member or two down the line. Then, we'll be even stronger, and safety will be the least of our worries."
Anon stayed silent, closing his eyes as he wrestled with the decision one final time. Logically speaking, the masked man's offer was hard to argue against: free supplies, extra manpower, and the advantage of a slightly bigger group. The pros outweighed the cons. And yet, the lingering unease of trusting someone so secretive gnawed at him.
After a long pause, he let out a deep sigh and opened his eyes, fixing them squarely on Viper. "Fine, then… You can join our group, Viper."
"Excellent!" Viper beamed, stepping forward to place a hand on both Anon's and Brea's shoulders, patting them repeatedly. "You've made the right call, trust me! I'll make sure to pull my weight, protect your backs, and keep us ahead of the game. You won't regret this!"
Anon stiffened at the touch, his brows furrowing slightly as Viper's carefree enthusiasm only added to his unease. His expression darkened, and he thought grimly to himself: 'I certainly hope and pray to God we won't and never will regret this…'