Chapter 35: Preparation [1]
3:00 AM
A guy with a pallid complexion and tenebrous locks could be observed tinkering with something on a wooden desk.
The tools arranged on the table were luminated by the radiance of the electric lamp by the side.
With his left hand firmly holding a small piece of PVC pipe, he wielded a stainless steel cutter with the dexterity of a surgeon, in the other hand.
The sharp blade penetrated the pipe and moved with remarkable precision to create a myriad of small notches, which appeared to be the foundation of a rudimentary trigger mechanism.
The quiet ?????????? of steel slicing through plastic could be heard as he meticulously worked on his creation; scrupulously avoiding any haphazard mistakes.
The shavings of plastic fell off the table with faint clatter.
Barely visible delicate beads of perspiration adorned his forehead, but he paid them no heed as he focused solely on his task.
Grabbing a slender stainless-steel pipe, he slid it with a deliberate, slow-motion, into the PVC tube, ensuring it fit tightly with a reassuring —????????!
Once again, he inspected his handiwork, gazing up from the desk to read the various components strewn about the workspace.
Every fraction of an inch mattered, and he knew that precision was paramount in the success of his final creation.
Finally, he attached the stainless steel components, threading a series of springs through the PVC pipe to create the necessary tension for the trigger button to work.
The intricate network of switches and strings began to take shape, and the guy's eyes gleamed as the trigger mechanism came to life.
***
4:00 AM
I read the clock hanging on the wall.
It was 4 AM.
"It's already been an hour since I started", I muttered to myself.
Gazing back at my creation, my eyes scrutinized the sleek and slender form of the trigger mechanism.
???????????!—With a sound, the table drawer was opened.
It revealed three well-crafted steel darts, a small tubular vial of Fentanyl, a pair of white furry gloves, and Co2 canisters.
Without wasting any time, my hands reached for the furry glove and nimbly made a cut into it to slip it over my hand.
With the Co2 canister firmly placed into the piston pipe, I delicately pulled the glove all the way up to the wrist.
The trigger mechanism was the final piece of the puzzle and my hands worked with surgical precision to secure it in place.
Rings were strategically placed to support the mechanism, tethering it from the base of the glove to the index finger. Every detail was crafted with a calculated sense of perfection.
The furry glove had a minuscule hole at the index finger, where the piston pipe was firmly attached.
With precision, I loaded a dart into the trigger mechanism, and carefully began to sew up the entire glove.
Yes, I know sewing.
"It's complete" I muttered with a sense of satisfaction as my eyes took in the details of my creation.
The glove that lay before me looked completely normal, except for the straightened out thumb finger, middle finger and index finger -- each carefully modified to accommodate an array of steel pipes.
Pleased, I slipped the glove onto my right hand and admired. "Looks pretty nice." A small smile curved itself onto my face.
Extending my arm, I aimed the glove like a gun and pushed my thumb finger, just like how kids play with their imaginary hand gun.
????????! —The trigger was immediately activated and a tiny dart propelled out of the glove at high velocity, propelling my hand back.
??????????????!—The dart hit the wall with a faint thud.
'Huh-nice', with a faint smile, I gazed at my creation.
I reopened the drawer and picked up the injection tubular vial containing Fentanyl in my fist.
Despite its reputation as a highly potent piperidine opioid drug capable of causing nausea, vomiting and unconsciousness, depending on the dosage, I wasn't worried.
In the past, I would have never imagined myself doing something as reckless as this, but in this new world, my moral compass have shifted a little bit.
I couldn't care less about violating moral protocols or engaging in unethical activities— it simply didn't matter anymore.
"Now I just need to rub the darts with fentanyl and it should be done."
***
10 A.M-- The Attendee Checkpoint.
As I walked into the hall, my heart raced.
The sight of at least two thousand students made me feel more nervous than ever before.
"Fuu! This is the first time I am ever doing something like this", I muttered to myself, trying to calm myself down.
Scanning the area, my eyes fell upon a duo. James Reeves and Anastasia Smirnova. I walked over to them, examining the surrounding area.
"Oh Noah, you are here," James greeted me with a nod.
"Yes, so you guys prepared?" I asked, taking note of their attire.
Both were clad in tracking clothes - long cargo pants, long sleeve shirts to protect from insects and scratches, lightweight waterproof rain jackets just in case, and comfortable sturdy hiking boots.
Almost everyone in the crowd was dressed similarly, including myself.
Tracking clothes like these were typically used by adventurers during hunting trips.
Of course, those who were a little wealthier opted for more extravagant gear like leather protection and chainmail armor.
For reference, I too had a leather jacket and chainmail armor—I wasn't exactly poor anymore.
By the time the dungeon trials were over, I was sure to be the richest kid in the school; if I leave the main cast out of the equation.
But that was a thought for later...
"So, do you guys have any dimensional bracelets?" I asked, examining their backpacks.
"No, as you can see from our backpacks," Anastasia replied, gesturing towards their backpacks.
"Don't worry, I've got you covered", I replied with a bright smile, lifting my right arm to reveal the dimensional bracelet gifted to me by my friend Edward with open hearts, signifying our bond of friendship.
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