Raison Detre.
Hour X- Prologue:
The rain poured tumultuously from the skies above, a levitated carpet of ebony, folding clouds, dotted with spots of gray, patterns of white. Streets flooded as copious amounts of rain overflowed the road's rain gutters. Massive puddles formed here and there, with rushing cascades of contradictory crystallized water, swirling with murky mud drawn up from the dirt. A man in his mid 40's, a regular Joe as you might call him, coated with a banana-yellow raincoat skulked through the rain, his hood shadowing his dark features, quietly murmuring to himself as dozens of mechanical goliaths powered their way through the thick coating of water atop the road. The streets were busy today; not for any reason in particular; except for maybe the fact that Spring Break was over and visitors would be returning to their homes, yet a small, isolated town as this would idealistically never have this much traffic come through on a Sunday evening such as this. The town's serene mountain slopes looked grimy and ugly through the vale of mist and falling rain, the trees drooping with the immense downpour. The rain-drenched, busy road snaked throughout the normally picturesque mountains; a route sometimes sought out by sight-seers, and sometimes considered a shortcut if ever someone wanted to cross between the two areas surrounding the little town.
The man continued trudging along the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets, still muttering nonsensically to himself. He gripped whatever was in his pocket; a thick, yet delicate folded object. His bright, welcoming green eyes peered through the shadow of his yellow hood, looking somewhat troubled. The man was obviously distracted; though he had joyful eyes, they seemed to be lost and unfocused. While he was staring only at the ground, he seemed to know exactly where he was going, taking a sharp turn at the crosswalk to continue his treading. The cars continued to stream idly by, the man continued to walk. The rain began to fall even more heavily. The man sped up in accordance with the force of the rain, obviously in some sort of a hurry now.
Finally, he seemed to have reached where he was going. A small house, built against the town's forest of sorts, with the mountains looming overhead was stuck uncomfortably in the ground. Its windows weren't necessarily crooked or broken, but they looked uninviting, the shutters closed, not allowing any light in from outside. The pale yellow color of the house resembled that of a baby's toy, looking juvenile and cute, while at the same time a strange presence seemed to alienate it from the rest of the area. The man finally looked up to admire the house, citing that he had indeed reached his correct destination. He moved up the front walk onto the step, admiring the door in front of him. It was a crimson red. The brass door handle had marks and chips on it, a little stained in the area where the hand would cup it's round shape. Hesitating, he twisted the handle and pushed the door open. The inside of the house was dark, quiet. He stepped slowly inside, again, hesitant, seemingly aware of every aspect of his environment. He closed the door behind him, kicking off his shoes, and slowly unveiling his face by taking off his jacket. His face was dotted with a coarse stubble, his eyes big and a little droopy. His hair was short, combed a little forward, with structured lips, and regular-sized ears. The only odd aspect of him was a few cuts on his face around the eyes and mouth, as well as a misshapen nose. It looked as though it had broken on more than one occasion, unbalanced at the area of his bridge, one side starting earlier than the other from between his eyebrows, and another dent in his septum, with one side of his nose looking bigger than the other. He was a good looking man for his age, with his dual image of the welcoming eyes and face, yet the contrasting image of coarse stubble and rough scars. Hanging his coat up on a hook located ideally to the left of the door, he moved forward. He was wearing a thin sweater with another T-shirt underneath. His sweater read, "Sandsy and Co." with a strange-looking peanut character wearing a blue baseball hat with a silly grin on his face, his arm extended showing the thumbs up, just above the writing. Beneath it in smaller writing was the words 'Supervised by our great Coalition Branch.'
"Looks like you made it in on time," a coarse male voice rippled throughout the bare exterior of the house. His throat shook with every breath, his demeanor hidden by the darkness of the house.
"Did so, Eddy," the raincoat man replied, a slight smirk appearing on his face.
"You brought the document?" The coarse man replied.
"Oh, you know me better than I do, Eddy boy! 'Course I did!" As he said this, the man reached into his pocket taking out an unofficially folded piece of paper wrapped with a tight, skinny elastic band.
"You didn't read it, am I right?" The coarse man again spoke.
"You know I didn't," the raincoat man replied.
"You're a good man, Stephan."
"Anything for the Coalition," the raincoat man raised his right hand in a pompous gesture as he spoke, raising his pinky, middle finger, and extending his thumb as he held it in the air. He slowly lowered it back to his side.
"Alright, let's take a look-see," the coarse man gripped the paper away from Stephan, still hidden in a veil of shadow. He roughly undid the elastic band, opening the paper before his eyes. A clicking sound was heard, and it was seen that the coarse man had a flashlight in his hand, the beam of light detailing the outline of the paper.
"This year's program is gonna be as good a show as always, Ed?" The raincoat man said.
"You know it will be. They picked a good school this year."
"Really? Whereabouts?"
"You'll know soon enough."
"Very well."
"Well… this sheet says it. It's just North of Menmue City… Logiman's Hollow. Ever heard?"
The raincoat man stiffened up immediately, his demeanor changing instantly.
"Ye-… Yeah. I know. Where it is, I mean."
"Good. We're getting this thing underway in two weeks." The coarse man clicked off the flashlight and ordered for the man to take the first bus home he could. "Say, Stephan. Whereabouts you from, anyway?"
The raincoat man hesitated as he stood at the door to leave, staring back at the coarse man. His voice shook, "Nowhere important… heh." He turned slowly through the opened door and left without another word.
The sheet in the man's hand detailed the inevitable extermination of fourty-nine high-school students, all on the year of their graduation. An annual death-sentence, as some people called it. The sheet was outlined as such;
THE PROGRAM
The Federal and Surational laws dictate the appraisal of the annual Program. The Coalition sponsors the tremendous sacrifice of our Young, the hope and dreams of the rest of our people's tomorrow. But, it is necessary, in fact, vital to the survival of our people that this procedure takes place, in that the youth in our nations are troubled, resorting to youth extreme groups, protests, murder, thieving and other such Anti-Coalition attitudes. How can our nation live in a perfect today, only to be troubled by the nervous, foreboding of the overshadowing, uncertain tomorrow? That is why the Program, also known as Exhibition #2315 under the Commissioner XVIII has to be instated annually, to cleanse the troubled youth of today while at the same time providing a basis for the other youth of today. The following details are listed below, exercising rules of the game;
Each student is ordered to kill one another, until only one survives.
The winner is instated with a government pension and is allowed to leave freely from the game.
Only one school annually in each state will participate.
Each student is granted two bottles of water, two pieces of bread, and a random weapon upon their entry into the Game.
Each game shall be televised, and with each Game, new aspects shall be integrated, unawares to anyone but the inner workers within our Coalition: Exhibition # 2315 department.
Each program lasts three days in a publicly disclosed location upon the programs start, not to be unveiled prior to the Program, and each location will be closed off accordingly.
This form is ordered to be delivered to your superior immediately, so that the planning of this game shall occur. This year's school attending the program in the Monmue City Region is Logiman High. 50 students, 25 male and 25 female will be instated into the game in June immediately before their graduation. Each student's presence in this game is mandatory, and any resistance is indeed futile and will be punishable by death.
A jurisdiction instated by the Coalition upon its creation, embodying the whole world. Each law in the Surational laws is enforced more than any, with more weight and when a Surational law is broken, the punishment is immediate death by any Coalition Enforcer.
The Coalition's basic means of infantry and Surational law enforcers.
Logiman's Hollow, a town of merely 12,000, nestled quietly in a mountain valley, dotted with trees and streams inbetween every nook and every cranny, unknowingly allowed the public demise of 49 of their very own up and coming youth. The mayor could only shake his head in disappointment as he learned that his town would be the one hosting this year's Program in the Menmue city region.
He had already bade goodbye to the 49 students whose death would inevitably be met in a matter of three months. The games had already begun.