Scene Shift – Underground Command Hall of the Black Suit Organization
Far beneath the crust of any identifiable nation, shielded by countless layers of encryption, concrete, and power—there existed a colossal underground chamber known only to a select few as "The Conductor's Hold."
This was not a place known to governments, satellites, or rogue intelligence networks. This was where the real game began.
Inside, over 2,000 operatives—all clad in identical matte-black suits, faceless helmets, and biometric-encrypted gloves—stood at attention across the grand hall. They were the Game Agents, agents responsible for capturing participants from every continent, dragging them from beds, cars, prisons, or even boardrooms—each one chosen according to the untraceable logic of a greater system.
The hall itself was breathtaking in both size and severity. Stretching out hundreds of meters in all directions, it resembled a cathedral built for machines rather than men. Giant pillars the width of trucks reached toward the ceiling, where industrial lights hummed and flickered with an eerie white glow. Despite the presence of thousands, the vastness made each man feel like a mere grain of sand within a black ocean.
From above, narrow catwalks ran between surveillance stations and command consoles, where higher-ranking officers—marked by red-banded helmets or custom-signal visors—moved methodically. Their subtle nods and gestures were enough to send clusters of lower-ranked operatives scurrying to carry out instructions without a single word.
No one spoke.
No one needed to.
Silence wasn't just protocol. It was fear… cloaked in obedience.
Then suddenly, a mechanical click echoed through the chamber—a signal. Every operative froze, turning their heads toward the massive display screen now illuminating the far end of the hall.
A crimson insignia glitched onto the screen first, then disappeared, replaced by a silhouetted figure with a deep-modulated voice—the same voice from the hidden digital conference not long ago.
It reverberated through the entire hall.
"Get ready to execute the rules of the game."
The voice was steady, emotionless, yet carried enough weight to demand immediate attention.
"For now, wait. Prepare yourselves. Within the next few minutes, the neuro-suppressant gas inserted inside every player will be nullified."
All across the hall, a synchronized ripple passed through the game agents as their heads raised in attention. Several command units accessed their tablets and helmet feeds, confirming bio-scan syncs for the "players"—those unfortunate souls who would soon awaken in a reality more twisted than their worst nightmares.
"When they awaken… the game will begin."
The voice paused, then turned slightly colder.
"Most of you already know the drill. But for those who are new—and for those who still haven't memorized the instructions properly…"
A split-second static burst replaced the voice before it returned with an icy command.
"Read them again. Study them now. Because any disturbance… or disobedience… will not be tolerated."
A sharp beep followed, and the screen returned to the insignia—pulsing with a crimson hue, like a heartbeat.
The room remained still, a moment of eerie quiet stretching across the hall as each Collector internally reaffirmed their purpose.
Above them, beyond the screen and stone, the world carried on—unaware that the players had already been chosen… and that the game was about to begin.