"This circle…"
At this point, in the U.S. team.
Eggplant stared at the PUBG map and grimaced, smacking his lips:
"Damn, this is rough…"
Right now, the three teams—U.S., Neon, and Korean—each held a key spot.
The Neon team camped north, at the base of a slope, holed up in a lone two-story building. No vehicles, but they didn't need 'em—they were sitting pretty in the circle.
The Korean team was east, halfway up a hill, tucked behind an old shack. They had a jeep, but it was smoking, one hit from done.
The U.S. team, with Eggplant, Muffin, and XTT, was south, on a hillside, crouched behind a massive boulder. They had a beat-up motorcycle and a rickshaw, both barely holding together.
Once the circle shrinks, they'd be the first to choke on poison.
Any PUBG grinder knows this setup is pure hell.
They were pinned between two squads.
Rush the house and hit the circle? That's handing the trophy to the Korean team. Those guys are fully staffed—four players, locked and loaded.
The Koreans don't even need to move. They can just chill, let the U.S. and Neon teams slug it out in the building, then mop up the survivors.
But if Eggplant's crew goes for the Koreans instead?
The two Neon players in that building, deep in the destiny circle, would pounce. With only two left, they'd need to bleed both teams dry while defending their fort.
Either way, charging was a lose-lose.
"Yo, let's just pick one, Eggplant," Muffin said, her Shonan accent thick, shifting restlessly as the circle timer ticked down to forty seconds:
"If we keep sitting here, we're screwed—no shot at a push!"
Eggplant and XTT frowned, hesitating.
Muffin was right.
No move now, and it gets worse. They'd face two gun lines and the poison circle's wrath.
That seventh circle? It hits like a truck.
"Let's do it!" XTT growled, hyped.
He yanked the sniper rifle off his back, leaned out from the boulder, and scoped the Korean team's shack.
But before he could line up a shot—
BANG! PUFF!
Two shots cracked from the house and the shack, almost in sync!
Blood sprayed from XTT's chest, knocking him back behind the rock!
"Screw this!" he cursed.
Both teams were locked on them!
XTT, young and cocky, wasn't having it. I'm the one who snipes, not the other way around!
He chucked his last smoke bomb toward the boulder.
Clang—
Smoke hissed out, clouding the view from the Neon team's house.
"Forget it, we hit the Koreans first! They've got numbers! Eggplant, cover me!"
XTT popped a med kit, chugged an energy drink, and gripped his sniper rifle again.
They locked eyes and nodded.
Dadada—
Dadadadada—!!!
Eggplant leaned out, spraying bullets toward the shack.
XTT seized the moment, popped out, and locked on with his eight-times scope!
A Korean sniper's head snapped into the crosshair!
The crowd at SkyDome Arena lost it!
That pre-aim? No wonder fans screamed for WindyPeak Games to check XTT for hacks!
BANG! POP!
Two shots rang out, nearly simultaneous!
XTT's health bar flashed red. His level-two armor took a 98K hit—68 damage, leaving him one tap from death!
But the Korean sniper? Dropped, headshot, out cold!
Right then—
Gunfire erupted like firecrackers!
The Koreans unloaded on the boulder, covering their downed teammate.
They had two goals: pin XTT's deadly aim and wipe the U.S. team before the circle closed.
Eggplant fired back like a madman, trying to match their heat!
"Dropped one! Charge!" XTT shouted.
This was their best play.
The smoke blocked the Neon team's sight. They hadn't lost anyone, and the Koreans were down a sniper.
Fifteen seconds until the circle shrinks.
Time to roll the dice.
But then—
Muffin, quiet till now, spoke up:
"Eggplant, XTT, let me handle it."
She pulled the last grenade from her bag.
"Nah, they ain't in the shack," XTT said, clocking their position in a split second:
"They're scared we'd lob nades, so they're behind it. Can't hit 'em with a throw."
"Didn't say I was throwing it," Muffin grinned, grabbing the smoking motorcycle:
"You two are the sharpshooters. Can't let you get smoked on this push."
"Plus, I promised Old Horse I'd win this one."
"It's on you guys!"
With that—
Muffin hopped on the bike, slammed the clutch, and gunned it!
Buzz—!!!
The motorcycle roared!
Muffin gripped the handlebars and tore into the smoke!
Eggplant and XTT got it instantly.
"Cover!!!" they bellowed.
They grabbed their rifles, leaned out, and sprayed lead toward the shack!
Gunfire exploded across SkyDome Arena!
[The eighth poison circle is about to refresh!]
The commentator's voice cracked with tension:
[Ten—nine—eight…]
[…Three—two—one!!!]
Sizzle—
The countdown hit zero!
The poison circle clamped down!
And right then—
Whoosh—!!!
A smoking motorcycle burst through the smoke, soaring over the plain, straight for the Korean team!
Two Korean players slid out, hearing the engine roar closer.
They spotted a girl with twin ponytails charging on the bike!
"You're done!" they taunted in team chat.
Dadadada—!!!
Shots rang out.
Blood sprayed from Muffin's body!
But she didn't flinch. She flipped on the public mic, laughing:
"This one's for Old Horse!"
"Motorcycle-Killer-Hahahaha—"
BANG!
A final shot pierced Muffin's head. Her twin-tailed figure slumped, tumbling off the bike like a rag doll, rolling across the dirt.
The motorcycle spun out, smashing into the Koreans' smoking jeep.
The two Koreans dodging the bike didn't see it coming.
BOOM!
The bike hit the jeep, flames erupting!
Right then—
Roll—
A grenade bounced to the motorcycle's wheel.
"Hey, Old Horse…" Muffin whispered.
BOOM! BOOM!
BOOM—!!!
Three explosions rocked the shack!
Flames shot skyward, the motorcycle and jeep detonating, flipped into the air by Muffin's grenade!
A mushroom cloud bloomed behind the shack!
Muffin's ID lit up the kill feed—quad kill!
The Korean team wiped out in a flash!
Buzz—!!!
The SkyDome Arena crowd went ballistic!
Eggplant and XTT, the last U.S. players standing, screamed, voices cracking:
"Hell yeah!"
"Muffin, you're a freaking legend!!!!"
The Neon team's two survivors in the building panicked.
"Quick! Snipe 'em! They're rushing!" one yelled in Japanese.
The Neon player with an S686 shotgun bolted downstairs, shouting:
"I got the door! You snipe!"
The Neon sniper, clutching a 98K, posted up at the second-floor window, aiming for the U.S. team.
But then—
He froze.
On the hillside, a rickshaw zigzagged down the slope!
Eggplant and XTT weaved in an S-pattern, dodging like pros, refusing to flip!
BANG!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Bullets whizzed past, missing every shot. The Neon sniper couldn't predict their path.
"Yo, little boss, you sweating yet?!" XTT cackled, driving and mimicking Old Horse's swagger, juking left and right, baiting the sniper to burn his clip!
"How you liking this? Not one hit—panicking yet?"
The rickshaw slammed into the building's low wall, kicking up smoke.
XTT leaped out, yanked his sniper rifle, and racked the bolt!
Click!
"Time to flex the instant snipe!"
He aimed at the second-floor window.
The Neon sniper, reloading, popped out for another shot!
Lightning-fast—
XTT's scope snapped up.
The crowd didn't even see his target.
BANG!
A bullet ripped through the window, piercing the Neon sniper's jaw, out the top of his head.
Blood sprayed, splattering the ceiling.
Instant snipe!
One-tap kill!
Meanwhile—
Eggplant hit the building's door!
The second it swung open—
BOOM! BOOM!
Two dull shotgun blasts!
The Neon shotgunner, too nervous, didn't expect Eggplant to pause outside!
Both shots missed.
Eggplant stepped in, grinning:
"Yo, little boss, you done? My turn!"
The Neon player panicked, ditched the shotgun, and drew a Desert Eagle, firing wildly!
BANG BANG BANG!
Eggplant, like he was possessed, twisted his head side to side, cackling:
"Head-tilt dodge—pro move!"
Seven shots.
Not one hit.
Eggplant smirked, ripped the frying pan off his back, and yeeted it!
"Eat this!"
Whoosh!
DUANG!
[Good luck!]
[Eat Chicken Tonight!]
The golden victory slogan flashed across SkyDome Arena's big screen!
Flames erupted around the stage!
Fireworks lit up the venue!
Two massive fireworks shot skyward, exploding!
One formed a starry frying pan, PUBG's iconic logo!
The other burst into four bold letters: PUBG!
Tens of thousands roared, shaking SkyDome Arena!
"Hell yeah! U.S. team kills it!!"
"Old Horse's tricks are legit!"
"Last play was nuts! Who's this, John Wick?!"
"Motorcycle killer! Instant snipe! Head-tilt dodge! All Old Horse's moves, hahaha—"
"Everybody's fishing!"
"What a show!"
"Ticket was too cheap—I'd pay a grand more for this!"
"Sorry, Old Horse!"
"Old Horse, this is the world you dreamed of, sob…"
"Make this a monthly event—no, weekly!"
The frontcourt hyped, the midfield slayed, the endgame exploded!
Amid fireworks, the 6th Asian Games Summit wrapped!
A golden crown, a scepter, and a crystal trophy for the exhibition match—all stayed at SkyDome Arena, in the U.S.!
PUBG skyrocketed in the gaming world, riding this insane wave!
The day after the Asian Games Summit ended—
Over a dozen PUBG teams—IG, VG, IFTY, 4AM, 17, RNG—popped up.
Countless young dreamers dove into esports, fueling the gaming industry.
Wave after wave of Twitch streamers rose—funny, technical, live, even sneaky silver-coin styles, each with fans.
With players and viewers spiking, WindyPeak Games' project department couldn't keep up.
So, on Gus Harper's call, they launched the WindyPeak Operations Department, recruiting for ten spots.
That afternoon, job postings went live!
The first applicant rolled into Tech Tower, Seattle, resume in hand.
The dude? Young, maybe 27 or 28. Average look, average clothes, average everything. Just a regular guy.
"Hey, Zoey Parker, Gus Harper. I'm Wes Mason, 27, modern art design major."
"I've learned the top two programming languages for motion-sensing cabins and I'm deep into the Volix OS."
"Right now, I'm an external business specialist at an insurance company."
What the—?!
Gus Harper's jaw dropped at Wes Mason's pitch!
Can you run that back?
Insurance sales, art degree, self-taught coding and OS maintenance?
Bro, you…
What's next, you moonlight as a veterinarian?
Gus Harper scratched his head.
Wes Mason, reading his vibe, grinned:
"Real talk, I've been a WindyPeak Games fan forever."
"Your games made my boring life epic."
"I learned coding and ops just to join WindyPeak Games and make my life pop."
"Oh?" Gus Harper raised an eyebrow:
"WindyPeak? You play our stuff?"
"Yup," Wes Mason nodded:
"My real name's new to you, but my ID might ring a bell."
Gus Harper leaned in: "What's your ID?"
Wes Mason smirked: "I'm Plain Wes."
Holy crap!
Gus Harper nearly fell out of his chair!
He knew that ID!
Eight of the top ten Left 4 Dead 2 MODs—lightsabers, laser guns, character models, zombie skins, custom maps—were by Plain Wes!
The guy nailed player tastes, keeping the game fresh.
And he wasn't just ideas—he had skills!
For new content, his art degree could help Gus Harper level up WindyPeak Games.
For promotion, his sales gig gave him the charm to handle partners and PR.
For maintenance, his self-taught tech skills, while not pro-level, were solid for a manager role.
Gus Harper glanced at Zoey Parker.
Zoey Parker shot him a look: Your call, boss.
Gus Harper nodded slightly—he's a keeper, all-around talent.
"Welcome aboard, Wes Mason," Zoey Parker said, nodding:
"Starting tomorrow, you're deputy head of WindyPeak's Operations and Maintenance Department, reporting to Gus Harper."
"You in?"
Wes Mason: ???
"I… uh…"
Wes Mason blinked, stunned:
"First day… and I'm deputy head?"
"Oh, my bad," Zoey Parker facepalmed:
"Technically deputy, since Gus Harper runs Operations too."
Wes Mason looked even more shook!
Not about the title!
From insurance sales to deputy head?!
He just wanted a junior role!
But before he could protest, Zoey Parker stood, patting Gus Harper's shoulder:
"Handle it, Gus. I'm grabbing coffee—up late binging shows."
She strolled out of the Tech Tower, Seattle meeting room, no looking back.
Wes Mason gaped like a robot short-circuiting.
Gus Harper chuckled, used to this reaction.
When they set up the project department, Jared Young and Jasper Hill had the same look over their pay and perks.
Clearing his throat, Gus Harper launched into his epic pitch—