Chapter 92: Preparations for the Competition

Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Preparations for the Competition

In the end, Zayed walked up to the target sheet, holding a bullet, matching it to the hole on the sheet—it was clear that this wasn’t caused by just one bullet.

The camera zoomed in on the bullet hole. It was a single hole, but actually five bullet holes layered into one big hole. The uneven edges showed that every shot hit the ten ring, which created this effect.

The inspector, seeing how much trouble they were going through, simply brought over Renee Morgan’s target and pointed at the marks: "All five bullets are here."

On the target, all five bullets were crowded into the same spot. Zayed tried to dig them out with his fingers, but couldn’t loosen them.

Seeing is believing—the viewers in the livestream were stunned into silence for a second.

It almost seemed impossible, but the genuine marks and the five bullets in the target—unless you were blind, there was no way to argue against it.

Renee Morgan scored 50 rings, a perfect score.

She really let her ability speak, huh.

The screen had just been full of accusations, but suddenly the tide turned.

[...]

Lynn Miller snapped out of it, looking at Renee Morgan in surprise: "Morgan, you got a perfect fifty rings! Morgan, how are you so good, have you trained before?"

Renee, shoved by her, looked up and met Zara Chapman’s gloomy gaze, lips curling up: "Just so-so. It’s nothing special, just average skill."

Zara Chapman was practically furious, but with the camera right in her face, she had to force a smile and look away.

The instructor saw there was no dispute and led them back, telling them to rest well—they’d be heading to the competition field early next morning.

After dinner, the squad leader held a routine meeting. By the time it ended, it was already late. The instructor had said there’d be no emergency assembly tonight. After Renee Morgan finished getting things ready, she lay down to rest.

Early next morning, after gathering, the group set off in two Wildcat all-terrain vehicles.

Lynn Miller, sitting next to Renee Morgan, couldn’t hide her excitement: "Renee, I’m the hostage. As long as I don’t run, no one can touch me. Do you think I can survive till the end?"

Can she?

It really comes down to luck. If the team wins, the hostage wins; if the team loses, even if the hostage wasn’t headshot, she’d be eliminated automatically. With the whole team gone, who’d come rescue the hostage?

Lynn saw Renee Morgan looking troubled, glanced at the card in her hand: "Morgan, by the way, which side are you on?"

Their roles among the fifteen people weren’t a secret anymore, but as for teams, nobody had revealed theirs.

Still, the instructor hadn’t said they couldn’t share, so it obviously wasn’t something to hide, right?

Renee Morgan was straightforward: "Team Blue."

Lynn let out an "ah," her eyes full of joy. Covering her mouth, getting close, unable to suppress her delight: "Morgan, I’m Team Blue too!"

Renee gave her a glance—what’s there to be happy about? She’s a hostage, playing the role of a captive for the other team.

Lynn’s excitement faded as she realized, slumping into her seat, radiating lazy vibes as she looked at Renee: "Morgan, if there’s a chance, you must rescue me first."

Renee nodded. Rescuing hostages means victory—she’d thought of that too.

Lynn grabbed her shoulder again, grinning: "But being on your team gives me confidence." Even as a survivor, if they won, at least the team points would be nice.

Ever since Renee scored that perfect fifty, Lynn had become more and more impressed with her.

Renee sounded uncertain: "I heard Zayed say everyone in the competition is a big shot..." All the others had gotten in by skill, while they were ’connected’ entrants, fundamentally different.

Suddenly, Renee understood why the instructor assigned most of the ’connected’ people the hostage roles.

This group of rookies, without being hostages, having no survivor skills, would just be cannon fodder the moment they stepped onto the field.

Thinking this, Renee started feeling uneasy. Maybe the instructor was too confident in her, assigning her the sniper role...

Lynn didn’t care much—she was a natural competitor but ended up with a lazy identity. The hostage’s skill was surviving; no matter how amazing the experts were, what could they do to her?

With that thought, Lynn cheered up again—a lucky win with a lazy role would be a nice bonus.

The car drove steadily, and a few hours later, stopped at an iron gate. Machines scanned the instructor then let them through.

After entering the gate, the car stopped on a wide plaza.

Soon, a group of people walked toward them, wearing work uniforms emblazoned with conspicuous base logos.

The instructor signaled them to hand their cards to the tournament staff.

The staff collected their cards and handed out uniforms.

Renee received Team Blue’s uniform, helmet, military knife, compressed biscuits, canteen... and finally a long rifle with a high-powered scope, wrapped in cloth so the inside couldn’t be seen.

Lynn and the others got nothing—after all, as hostages, their gear couldn’t be simpler.

The group eyed Renee’s gear enviously, wanting to take a closer look, but the staff hurried them to split up.

As hostages, Team Blue’s hostages entered Team Red’s area, Team Red’s hostages entered Team Blue’s area. But Renee was different—she was Team Blue’s sniper, and headed toward Team Blue’s base.

Renee changed into the light blue uniform, strapped on a belt, hung various items at her waist, and a heavy sniper rifle around her neck. For most women, just walking would be a problem—good thing she’d trained for years, or it’d be overwhelming.

The staff holding her card rode a motorcycle and took her to a giant building, then led her into the central lobby.

The lobby was spacious, already filled with lots of people.

The base competition filming had no camera crew following; instead, they used locators and hidden cameras for live broadcasting. One main camera, sixteen sub-cameras. One used to be Wendy Aldridge’s, but now with her gone, it showed tournament progress reports; right now, the sub-camera clearly read: Preparing for kickoff...

The show’s filming still centered on the fifteen participants, with a full view of the base tournament.

The staff led Renee into the lobby, handed her card to an older man, then left.

The middle-aged man hadn’t looked at the card yet; his gaze landed on Renee Morgan first.

A young woman, just over twenty, strikingly good-looking, her eyes shining and clear—a refreshing presence.

Medic girl?

The middle-aged man looked kindly at the standing Renee, sensing she was a bit nervous, waved her over, and gestured for her to take a seat.