Thugs

Luis couldn't help but shudder as he witnessed the scene unfold before his eyes. The sight of Sam lying lifeless on the ground sent a chill down his spine. He slowly backed away, seeking solace behind Milo, who stood tall and steady, providing a sense of security.

Vicky, though visibly shaken, tried her best to maintain her composure. However, her trembling hands and the fear in her eyes betrayed her facade of calmness. Alan could sense her unease, understanding the profound impact Sam's death had on her

After all, Sam's death meant the end of his life in the game and in real life.

The three attackers, the very ones responsible for Sam's demise, stood before them like street thugs. All three were African American men in their prime, emanating an air of raw intensity. The leader, the one with the knife, despite his small stature, exuded an unsettling sense of authority. The other two, one wielding a metal bat and the other gripping a lead pipe, appeared to be his loyal underlings.

Although their weapons seemed ordinary, the game mechanics bestowed an extra edge upon them, making them formidable tools in the hands of the wielders. At this stage of the game, even seemingly harmless weapons carried a significant threat, capable of inflicting substantial damage to the players.

Alan scrutinized the three attackers, studying their demeanor and body language. The man with the knife displayed a level of composure that suggested he was more experienced in confrontations. In contrast, the other two occasionally exchanged glances, their worry thinly veiled.

Recognizing that these three were nothing more than street thugs, Alan's confidence grew. He knew this fight could be relatively straightforward. His only disappointment was none of the attackers wielded a sword, the weapon he had hoped to acquire.

The leader brandished his knife, his voice filled with false bravado. "Don't you dare come any closer, or I'll slice you into pieces!"

Alan, however, wasn't one to be intimidated by empty threats. He saw through the facade of power the man attempted to project. It was his moment to strike, to exploit the element of surprise. Without hesitation, Alan sprang into action, closing the distance between them in an instant.

The man's eyes widened in shock as Alan's hand shot out, grabbing hold of his knife hand. Before the attacker could react, Alan delivered a powerful punch to the man's gut, knocking the wind out of him.

BAMMM!!

[Impact: Punch Inflicts 12 Damage]

The impact reverberated through the air as pain contorted the man's face. His grip on the knife weakened, but Alan maintained his hold, twisting the man's arm until he relinquished the weapon. With a swift motion, Alan forced the attacker to the ground, delivering a hard kick to his shoulder for good measure.

Crackkk!

[Impact: Throw Inflicts 6 Damage]

[Impact: Kick Inflicts 21 Damage. Target's hand has been broken...]

"ARRRGHHHH!"

The man let out a cry of agony, his shoulder clearly dislocated. He writhed in pain, unable to summon the strength to retaliate. Alan pressed his foot against the man's chest, pinning him down with ease. The fight had ended before it even truly began.

Meanwhile, the other two underlings, witnessing their leader's swift defeat, attempted to flee, desperate to escape the same fate. Yet their efforts were in vain. Milo, standing steadfast, stood in their path, blocking their escape route.

BAM!! BAM!!

Milo's fists struck with precision and force, connecting solidly with his targets. The underlings crumpled to the ground, their weapons slipping from their grasp. They writhed in pain, unable to mount a defense against Milo's relentless assault.

"P-please... we didn't want to hurt anyone," one of the underlings pleaded, fear evident in his eyes. "He forced us to do it. Please, let us go."

The leader, his broken hand throbbing with pain, seethed with anger, his gaze filled with a menacing glare. "You're all useless!" he shouted in a fit of rage.

Alan, looking down at the helpless man beneath him, regarded him with disdain. With a derisive click of his tongue, he delivered another brutal kick, unleashing his frustration and anger upon the fallen foe.

[Impact: Kick - Inflicts 15 Damage]

"Arrggghhh!"

The man let out a pained cry, the force of the kick exacerbating his injuries. Yet Alan was not finished. Another kick followed, intensifying the man's agony.

[Impact: Kick - Inflicts 16 Damage, Target Status: Severely Wounded]

The assailant's screams echoed through the alleyway, but Alan remained unaffected. He delivered a final kick, rendering the man incapacitated.

[Impact: Kick - Inflicts 18 Damage, Target is in a critical state, Knocked Out]

These were the standard statuses within the Apocalypse Games. When a player endured a barrage of non-lethal attacks, reaching a critical level of health, they would often succumb to the [Unconscious] status. This likelihood increased further if the player possessed low endurance.

"Now, stay quiet," Alan said coldly, his gaze fixed on the unconscious man beneath him.

He turned his attention to the two remaining underlings, their fear palpable. Alan approached them, squatting down to their eye level. With an outstretched hand, he issued a demand,

"Hand over everything you have in your bags."

The two men glanced at each other, their hesitation evident. Before they could utter a word, Alan cut them off.

"Or I can kill you and take them myself. Your choice."

In the game, live players' bag contents were off-limits to others. Only items dropped by players or accessed after their death could be obtained. Alan presented them with a choice: voluntarily surrender their possessions or face the consequences.

"Yes... yes... take it..." the men replied meekly, their defeat now painfully clear.

Relieved, they handed over their belongings:

[2 x Cigarettes]

[Name: Stack of Money ($1000)]

[Type: Miscellaneous]

[Not able to bring out of the Game]

[Remarks: Money will always make things smoother.]

Though functional shops didn't exist in the game, the stack of money still held value and could prove useful.

The men possessed only the weapons they had wielded:

[Name: Metal Bat]

[Type: Blunt Weapon]

[Rarity: Common]

[Attributes: Damage 8-12]

[Effects: None]

[Equipment Rating: 10]

[Not able to bring out of the Game]

[Remarks: Holding it will make you feel like a champ]

####

[Name: Lead Pipe]

[Type: Blunt Weapon]

[Rarity: Common]

[Attributes: Damage 6-10]

[Effects: None]

[Equipment Rating: 7]

[Not able to bring out of the Game]

[Remarks: Plumbing is a hard job; don't mess with a plumber]

Alan collected the items, but to their surprise, he tossed each of them a canned meat before instructing Milo to release the men.

Vicky looked at Alan with a mix of surprise "Wow, you are really kind indeed"

Alan nodded, his gaze unwavering. While he despised players who intentionally caused harm, his three years in the game had taught him the lengths people would go to survive. He understood the desperation that drove them and chose to extend a measure of mercy, even offering them something to improve their chances of survival.

Observing Alan's actions, Luis pointed towards the unconscious attacker and exclaimed, "What about him? You're not just going to let him go, are you? He killed Sam!"

A mischievous smirk played on Alan's lips as he responded, "For him, I have something special prepared."