"So, you're the new meat? This must be a joke!" Roy knew this had to be part of the song and dance until their new commanding officer actually walked outside to confirm that these were the right recruits.

He looked around at the other recruits. Two of them he knew from training: Suztang and Fishyfingers. Suztang was one of the best shooters in his class. During training, he could barely keep up with him, and the results of each simulation backed that up, with Suztang and Roy always earning the same number of tags at the top of the board. He looked over at Roy, and they exchanged looks that each of them understood that they had made it. Roy looked back over at Fishyfingers, nicknamed for his amazing trigger finger and mobility of his gun. Unlike Suztang and Roy, who were field ops, Fishyfingers was a much better long-distance fighter, and took his place at the back of the simulation, sharp shooting anyone who crossed his path. What separated Fishyfingers from the other sharpshooters besides his amazing control of his gun was the gun itself. When recruits reach simulation training, they get to choose a gun they think will serve them well in their field of expertise. Field ops like Roy and Suztang normally chose the FK-E, a laser machine gun that could put out a lot of bullets in a short amount of time. Sharpshooters usually will take the T8-MPR, or as they called it, the Tate. The Tate has a very small clip size, but has an amazing scope and precision not matched by any other weapon, ideal for anyone participating in a gunfight outside of the ring. Fishyfingers instead stayed with his basic training gun, the XPLR, a laser rifle that outranked the FK in sight, but failed to match it in clip size. The FK and the XP were so close in effectiveness, though, that FK was considered the older, and better, big brother, but yet, Fishyfingers could make it work.

Across from Roy sat three recruits that he had never seen before. He read their names from off of their suits: UnUsed Soul, Joaco Millions, and Unlucky13. Each of them looked pretty rugged and nastier than the recruits who hadn't made it to prep.

Roy snapped back to attention as the commanding officer walked back into the room. "Well, it seems you lot ARE to be put on the Alpha 3." He walked to the other side of the room. "I am your commanding officer Ace, or as I'm GT'd, Admin of Aces. I've been with the Alpha 3 since it was the Alpha 2, and it is my job to make sure the people who get on that station are the finest of the livestock we have out there flailing their gun and shooting willy-nilly." He pressed a button on the wall and a door opened up, revealing a large, blue room. "My test is simple: Team Deathmatch. East Recruits: Suztang, Fishyfingers and Roy against West Recruits: Joaco, Soul, and Thirteen. Prove to me which team deserves to be on that ship." The two teams locked eyes. "You'll find your weapons in your corners, just like simulation training. Now go out there and prove yourself worthy of the Alpha 3."

The six recruits charged into the blue room into their designated corners, picking up their weapons. Each recruit is trained on a two-handed, 20mm, and attack and tactical grenades. Roy, Suztang, and Fishyfingers all had chosen the Anti-gravity attack grenade during training: a grenade that, when thrown, defied gravity by flying straight from where the person had thrown it, making it a great choice of grenade for tagging someone from around a corner or another room. They all also specialized in the same tactical grenade: the EMC grenade, which allowed for the disabling of all electronic devices.

Admin's voice came over the intercom in the room. "You've got a standard 10 minutes. You'll find as you explore this simulation that this is a duplicate of the Alpha 3. Right now, you're in the Network Room. Play smart and use all of the rooms to your advantage." A small ring echoed through the room, and both teams immediately took off in opposite directions, both under the pressure of being let go from the program if they lost, which they knew would not be an option.