The dimly lit hall smelt heavily of mud and dust, and judging by the walls covered with ivy and mould the building hadn't been used for a long, long time. Jack Wittenberg a.k.a Boy # 1 hated the smell. It only helped cement the memories of what had happened and what they had witnessed over the past hour or so in his mind. Hell. The only Jack could describe what had happened to him and his classmates, and the worst part is, Jack knew, there is worse to come. Much worse. Looking past the soldier at the door and through the exit he could see a flood-light lightening up the immediate area outside in a bright blueish tint. The earth outside was covered in slaps of concrete that were surrounded with a chicken-wire fence and after that he could see the outline trees, lots of trees. A cool breeze blew down the corridor elevating the smell for a fraction of a second and gently rocking the forest outside. The sound of his footsteps and the creacking of trees outside seemed impossible loud to Jack, with each step closer to the door he felt is heart pounding against his ribcage and he had to fight hard against the urge to run, giving into the fear and paranoia is what they want you to do. Do that and they've won. Stopping several metres before the entrance, he set down his randomly assigned backpack and opened it up. The soldier couldn't believe what he was seeing, this seventeen year old kid looking as calm as could be fumbling around in his rucksack as if he were searching for a misplaced schoolbook.

"You! Out! Move it, come on! You can't be hanging around here." Barked the soldier.

Jack ignored the soldiers orders but he could sence the hatred that betrayed the soldier voice. It was probably the hatred of being there, of working for a government that would sellout its own country to line it's pockets, hatred of having to put this group of kids through this because of orders, and hatred for the fact that if he didn't follow these orders then he too would be killed. Jack understood that the kid at the door was probably little over a couple of years older than him and that he just wanted to get this whole thing over and done with. That didn't matter though.

"I said move it!"

He was still the enemy.

"Alright!" Stormed Jack as he got up and slung his pack over his sholder, "I'm coming"

The soldier seemed taken aback by the response, in three words the teenager had totally dominated him and now he was totally unsure of what to say, if anything.

For the first time since he had woke up in the drab, grey, smelly classroom, Jack smiled. He knew what he was going to have to do and in a bid that was as much to remind himself that he had any composure left as to show the soldier he had, he slowed his pace put his hands in his pockets and with the most convincing face that he could put on turned to the soldier and said

"Asshole"

A flash of anger swepped up through the soldier as he raised the butt of his rifle high up into the cool air, Jack simply ran off into the darkness, across the concrete and out into the wilderness.

"Have a nice life Jack!" Pvt. Parry shouted after him a smile crossing his face as he knew he had gotten on over on the boy, the guilt came no more than a second after. He's only a fucking kid and he's about to die! He dosn't need to hear that. It could be you in the position for godsakes. The smile completely wiped from his face he reached into his pockets, fumbling around about for the pack of cigarettes he carried and often resorted to. Dropping them on the floor he bent down to pick them up and began searching, arms stretched out on the floor.

"Oh, fuck" were the last to words from Pvt. Luke Parry's mouth as his hand groped the grenade that Jack had left behind.

Running now, Jack knew they would be looking for him.

Two years ago hadn't someone killed a soldier, and in that famous American one, didn't they take over a boat? Think! Did they kill him? Did they let him continue the game! No, no, they must have let him go; the government banned anyone from killing the students except other students. Yea, that's right. They wouldn't kill someone off... would they? Maybe I didn't kill him, maybe he saw it and ran? Shit, shit, shit, shit... Think! Should be alright... they don't kill students off anymore.. it's deemed unfair to the people who bet on..

BEEP

The colour drained from Jacks face. That noise struck a chord with all teenagers these days. Sheer panic enveloped him and he dropped to his knees. He couldn't muster words and for a second just remained their, silent.

BEEP

Palms suddenly very sweaty, Jack reached both hands towards his neck only to feel the cold, unsympathetic touch of flesh on steel. No! No, no, no please! Oh God! Dropping his hands to his sides, he grasped at the ground and he began sobbing.

BEEP

Everything he saw was now a blur: the trees, ground, sky, his own legs were nothing to him now. All that was real to Jack Wittenberg now was the smooth, sleek, shiny, piece of metal around his neck………..and that noise:

BEEP

Think! Think! THINK! If I try to pull it off it will blow, what, what can I do?

His crying intensified. His tears prevented him from seeing altogether. A seventeen year old boy shouldn't have to go through this. For a second the thought of begging crossed his mind, pleading with them not to kill him, though he knew all attempts would be futile. He sobbed into his hands. Then a moment of clarity hit him.

Mustering all of the strength that he had, Jack stood up for what he knew was to be his last time.

BEEP

Looking unflinchingly toward the nearest camera he removed one pin after the other. He regained his composure and stopped the weeping, and for a second all Jack could hear was the sound of the breeze once again blowing in the trees and the low buzz of the camera. The fucking camera, he could feel it's dead, indifferent stare coldly buring into him, following whatever he did and recording it for all to see. He closed his eyes and felt the cool air against his face and through his hair. Taking a deep breath he once again opened his eyes and looked towards the unflinching gaze of the camera.

"Fuck y-"

BEEP

Simultaneously the first grenade and Jacks collar exploded, hurling what remained of his body and the second grenade into the air, a split second later the second explosive triggered, shattering the bark of a nearby tree and destroying the camera that was fixed to it.

ZERO HOUR- Game Start 45 Contestants Remaining

Rachael Harding a.k.a Girl # 1 stepped out of the building two hours later than advertised. A small amount of renovation was needed at the exit after Jack's present. She surveyed the area as quick as she could as she knew the next contestant would be out within two minutes. What she didn't know was who the next contestant was and despite being one of the most popular girls in class, it was not something she wished to find out the hard way. Taking off in full stride, she headed straight into the foliage; she knew what she must do.

Blubbering, confused and downright scared. Alfie Hayes a.k.a boy # 2 officially entered the game. Alfie wasn't stupid, he knew his weight wouldn't do him any favours, he knew that with his speed, having a two inch pocket knife as a weapon would not do him any favours. Noting the cameras he tried holding back the tears but he had no resistance left, Alfie Hayes knew he was going to die within the next 3 days.

Helen Campbell knew that having a plan helped in this game. The whole class had watched previous Battle Royale's (well not everyone, many students throughout he world had in fact boycotted the programmes in protest, some even marched on government buildings with their televisions and set them on fire) on T.V and everyone knows, you don't win it by dumb-luck, no, you need a strategy, a plan. And a plan was something Helen didn't have. But she knew who would. Scanning the line of trees for danger and not finding any, Helen made her way to a vantage point and waited.

Having seen his sister leave moments before, Ed Campbell a.k.a Boy # 3 ran for the open doored exit. If it hadn't been for the powerful floodlight then the place would have been pitch black and having bad eyesight didn't help Ed either.

"Helen! Helen, it's me! Eddy!"

Hearing a rustle come from behind the line of trees to his right, Ed tried to squeeze his eyes into focus.

"Jesus Ed, I thought I'd never see you again"

"Shhh!" Putting his fingers to his lips. "Listen, we have to be quiet, who the fuck knows how people are gonna play this game, we'll wait around for Dean, but once he's out we'll have to move."

Whilst saying this he noticed that she had a quizzical look on her face and wandered is she had heard what he said.

"Sure" she replied, and they hurriedly moved back into the trees.

Being fit meant a lot in this game and Patricia Penn a.k.a Girl # 3 was that. Having played sports all her life from swimming to hockey, Patricia played almost any game and most likely won. But she was a team player and she knew Battle Royale was best played as a team- for now at least. She took off in the first direction to catch her eye at great speed.

Matthew O'Brien felt heavy hearted, having always placed a firm belief in humanity he now found himself feeling very at odds with what he knew was about to be done and about what to do. He toyed with the options and choices he now had to make about his life as he wandered in a southerly direction, to where he heard his friends discussing where to meet. He had never believed in the BR Act and refused to watch on TV as people made millions off of innocents slaughtering innocents. With that in mind he noticed the cameras, red dots in the dark, everywhere, watching everything from every conceivable angle. Struggling to hold back the tears at the thought of his family watching, dropped his bag, fell to the floor and wept.

Caitlin Ellison a.k.a Girl # 4 found herself strangely calm as she stepped out into the artificially lit up night. She slowed her breathing, pushed her glasses up her nose and set about looking for a friend.

For about as long as he could remember Richard Heaney a.k.a Boy # 5 had felt like and been an outcast in class, if a self-imposed one at that. He sat by himself whenever possible and made it a point not to let others words have an impact on him, critic or acclaim. He was the smartest boy in class and he knew it. He refused to see the point in being "sociable", he had his own intellect and an incredibly wealthy and supportive family. But now Richard Heaney, though afraid to admit it to himself, wanted the one thing that had evaded him or he had evaded his entire life: a friend.

Stepping into the 3D blackness, he knew it was going to be a long night.

Jenny Woodward a.k.a Girl # 5 could only think of the last words she had said to her boyfriend before she had left the room moments before. She walked past the replacement guard that now held a significantly bigger gun than the one he replaced. Only the change in lighting snapped her out of her daydream. With her small frame she didn't feel safe near the old building. Making an assessment of her surroundings with the huge green eyes that had earned her much attention; she took the path that appeared least awkward. Never one to loose compose, she gracefully turned to her left and headed north.

Barry "Baz" Pitt a.k.a Boy # 6 searched his bag for his weapon. He had watched the game before and knew it was essential to hold something that at least looked like it could do damage. Fumbling through his bag, he grabbed a hold of what he hoped to have - a gun – and a large one at that, pulling it out of his bag, open-mouthed, Baz gazed at his Uzi.

Girl # 6 Francis Clark tried to be as stealthy as she could, she had heard unmistakably the sound of footsteps and had frozen and ducked. It's hard to hold your breath when you're out of breath. Stealth, Francis knew wasn't her strong point. Being 6 foot and 10 and a half stone was quite big for a girl and was not going to do her any favours here. She feared for her life, and rightfully so.

Peter Humphrey a.k.a Boy # 7 walked through the hall and into the night. Being 6'6 and 14 stone made him physically imposing to anyone who didn't know him. Those who did however knew that he was impossibly shy, shy to the point of being mute. Peter placed his thumbs between the strap of his bag and himself and moved forward, as ever, silently.

Zara Reusswig a.k.a Girl # 7 was not in a good place, having only lived in England for 3 months she still had a strong German accent, a limited vocabulary and even fewer friends than she had English words. Her weapon was of no use either- an electric razor.

Being as silent as she could whilst pushing her way through the dense blanket of black and dark green that surrounded her, Zara knew that she stood little chance of getting out of this alive. Despite not knowing a lot of English, she was very familiar with the Battle Royale formula and how it works. In fact, the idea came to fruition in Germany years before it came to Britain.

"Zara!" a muffled shout from her right caught her attention. "Zara, it's me, Francis, it's me, Peters here to!"

Recognising the voice, but not quite believing her luck, Zara moved in the direction of the voices.

"Vare are you?"

"Up here!"

Looking up Zara an impossible sight her two friends sat perched on a branch in a tree above her. The two of the were near giants compared to her "Come down, I can't go up, mi bag ist to heafy for me Francis"

If it hadn't been for the fact that Francis and Zara had become good friends since Zara's arrival, Francis probably wouldn't have understood Zara, infact Francis was probably the only person in class to understand Zara through her highbred mix of deutch and English, all with the absolute heaviest of accents.

"Coming, just be quiet!" whispered Francis, placing her index finger on her lips.

After jumping down, Peter turned to help Francis out of the tree. Waving his hand away, Francis jumped down. Looking at her two companions, one larger and one a lot smaller than her, she had already noted that none of them were really fit to lead.

"OK" she started, looking toward Zara, then back to Peter, who she thought had the look of a dog waiting for the ball o be thrown.

"OK, I guess we keep moving, hopefully Daniel will be out soon and I'm sure he'll make contact with us somehow.

She knew that what they wanted was not words of reassurance, not a safe place to hide and wait; what they wanted was their leader back, someone they knew that without him they would be useless. But with his guidance, they could figure away out of this horrible situation. They all knew what they have to do if they didn't what might happen, no one dared say it, they knew where the conversation by lead, and the thought of loss was too much to bear.

Having witnessed many of his friends stroll out calmly; a look of almost composure on their face, hell, boy # 10 Bernard Turner even punched a guard in the face. William Cople a.k.a boy # 12 was determined to show his calm. Instead he ran, only slowing down as he ran through the door, glancing at the blood stains on the floor and wall.

Shivering despite the oppressing humidity he jogged across the concrete and into the forest. Once in the dark, safety became paramount. Slow down and be quiet! Hesitating briefly before plunging into the forest something caught his eye, the unmistakable glow of a cigarette. Knowing who had come out before him and knowing there was only a certain amount of people with such a disregard for their own safety, William made an educated guess. Walking straight towards the orange glow, unflinchingly he spoke out to the mysterious stranger.

"Hey Noel"

Taking in a drag and holding it for a while, as casual as could be, he replied.

"So what brings a good looking guy like you to a place like this?"

Eyes more educated to the dark now, William could see Noel almost clearly, leaning with his back to a tree with one leg bent balancing him against it.

Noel Anderson a.k.a boy # 11 was a complete enigma in class. Most tried to ignore him, but nearly everyone respected him. He could make anyone look like an idiot in 10 seconds flat, he had the fastest tongue in school and even though not physically impressive, he was known not to be messed with. He had dyed black hair and wore eye-liner nearly all of the time; these features only made him look paler than what he already was. He had piercings in his ears and lip and one between bottom lip and chin. He nearly always wore dark colours, mostly black. He was not considered gothic however, he spoke with a near camp voice but in way that made him sound like the singer off of Placebo, a comparison he often referred to himself. Few boys spoke to him at school and Noel preferred it that way, finding that girl's topic of conversation to be more interesting. Showing off masculinity and muscle was of no interest to him, he hated what he called "macho bullshit". Boys, he found, were rather predictable.

Many, though at school speculated that Noel was gay and he told a select few, the truth being that he was bi-sexual and probably got more girls than most "straighter cut" guys in class. Noel revelled in that fact.

"Fuck Noel, you tryin to get yourself killed? Stop tryin to look so fucking individualist and so fuckin smart, it's me you fucker, not Dean or Derek so drop the act." The words stung Noel slightly but instead of letting it show he took another slow drag of his cigarette.

"Fag?" He said exhaling heavily, letting the smoke surround his face.

Pausing for a second, William looked down and saw Noels outstretched arm holding a full pack of Benson and Hedges.

"Fuck you, I'm moving you can come with me or stay here and get killed." He carried on walking.

Despite his aggressiveness, William was one of the only boys in the class who Noel allowed to talk to him like that. A mutual respect had grown out of having cigarettes behind the school at lunch and between classes. William was a bit of an enigma in himself, at only 5 foot 8, and being fairly skinny, William was friends with a crowd that Noel thought seemed a strange choice for a boy of his nature; he was not typical of the people who tend to hang around with the football team. Noel had noticed a rise in his popularity over the past year or so but had thought it a stupid thing to mention during their 5 minute a day conversations. The two of them had a deeper understanding of each other than they let on: Both once near social outcasts, now both much more confident than they ever were before, they owed each other more than they ever said, as that 5 minutes of acceptance a day, they knew, was central to the people they became.

Noel followed through the trees as they both knew he would, although slightly slower out of protest. Giving the current situation it is much better to be with someone rather than noone. Everybody knew that and he could think of worse people than William be with.

William felt exactly the same, however he needed to find his friends. If he could manage to get to the football team then he stood a much better chance. He liked Noel, he made laugh and he could cut you down like it was noones business but in a situation like this those talents arn't gonna get you very far. Looking back at Noel he knew that physically they wouldn't stand a chance against some of the bigger people in class, flight would certainly be the best option if the situation. Anxiety crepped over him and a familiar pang overtook his thoughts.

"I'll have that cigarette now"

Secretly happy it was a full box Noel had presented. He only had a few left.

Boy # 16 Stuart Keating was aware of the dangers that awaited him. Stuart was himself very clever and a whiz with anything computer associated. His downfall came however, on his physicality; chubby, ginger, glasses: class readings of Lord of the Flies were hell for him; the comparisons were both inevitable and accurate. Despite being self-aware, or being forced to be self-aware by the class clowns, etc, Stuart made the best of what he had to offer and became good friends with what many considered to be the "popular group" by making out fake IDs for them on his computer, thus creating his own little niche within the group. Without them though, Stuart felt lost, alone and pathetic. He knew that he would be killed if he didn't find someone friendly…………..fast.

Being in some kind of clique always helps in school. Sarah Prince a.k.a Girl # 16 knew this, she particularly like everyone in the group but she liked the advantages it gave. Of course being good looking always helped as well- it also meant getting away with saying the stupidest things. She may not have been the most book smart girl in the world but she knew how to make the most out of her obvious physical advantages, she left the thinking and academics to girls such as Caitlin Ellison and Heather Cross a.k.a Girl # 11. Who cares about that sort of thing anyway?

Steven Linn a.k.a Boy # 17 had the opportunity to do something he had wanted to do for a long time, ok, maybe not to this extremity, but it was definitely an opportunity to get some frustrations out.

Prince Community School used to have an almost famous football team, the young group of boys that started the school at the age of 12 started off by winning the under 12's regional championship, then the under 14's regional and national, then again for the under 16's. Boys like Peter Harvey- the fast paced right winger, Bernard Turner-the commanding central midfielder, James Kilcannon in goals and on the on-the-pitch transformation of Matthew O'Brien from a shy, good looking, polite young man to a snarling, whiney and beautifully skilful striker earned him the captain's role in the best team in the country. Prince Community School however, had not won anything in the past year. Players deteriorated, Bernard put on more weight than he should have, Peter and Matthew lost their edge in fitness. No one could put their finger on the problem. Declan, could however. The so-called best friend of Bernard and Peter, William Cople, the influence of funny man Michael Doherty, people who smoke and who drink and who fucking party till all hour with no regard for their own bodies never mind that of the players. This made Declan sick. To him the football team should be a clique unto itself without interference from assholes who don't belong. If they wanted, they could rule the school as well as the football pitch…..If only they wanted. Instead they had turned their back on their once best friend, their pride and their football team and opted for the drugs, the drink the lifestyle and popularity that was handed to them ONLY BECAUSE of their sucess. He hated them, he hated them and everything they now stood for, but he could change it: get rid of the cancer; cure the patient. This was an opportunity to good to miss, with the right tools he could remove the cancer and as luck would have it, Steven did have the right tools, pulling out his sawn-off shotgun Steven's heart pumped a fresh wave of adrenaline through his body.

Boy do I have the right tools.

History dictates that loners don't usually go very far in a Battle Royale, and if they do they are either psychotic or very smart or both. Andrew Foster a.k.a. Boy # 18 was neither, having been to shy to make friends through socialising, not physically able enough to do it through sport and not smart enough to realise there are other means, Andrew Foster, the boy they called "Mousey" was at a distinct disadvantage.

"Where? I can't hear you…. No, the lines bad…. The south? There's a building to the south? OK, I'll meet you there then…Oh and tell Noel to meet us there as well, my credits gone after this call…………………..no, I trust him…………………yea, bye."

Hanging up the phone Helena Brown a.k.a Girl # 18 headed in the direction she believed to be southward. The dark made her wish she had worn her contacts. Easing through the dense undergrowth scratches and cuts began showing themselves on her leg. Frustration got the better of her.

"Fuck this, Fuck THIS!"

Helena was rarely one to loose her temper; on the contrary she was usually the one to keep her cool when her friends lost theirs. But now there was no one to calm down, no one to get to relax. She was victim to her own emotions having no need to tame them.

Helena was a fairly good looking girl with more of an aura of beauty than of a beautiful look. She choose clothing that seemed a bit more ambiguous and spontaneous than anyone else. If Helena saw something whilst shopping that she knew people would look twice at, she would buy it. Not to say she was not fashion conscious, she knew what suited her and anything suited her, from suit jackets to netted sleeves.

Pushing further through she found herself in a small clearing, dimly lit by the moon. When she was satisfied that she was alone, she pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights out of her breast pocket of the check shirt she was wearing.

"...God" whilst exhaling.

For the first time the thought crossed her mind of her weapon. Discreetly putting the cigarette out against a tree, she unzipped the came-green bag and began searching. Feeling something that was neither food or her map or compass she pulled. Her crowbar came out with surprising ease.

Leaning back against the tree, the gravity of the situation hit home for the first time…..hard. A crowbar meant for only one thing, to kill, to kill friends and classmates indiscriminately.

I'll never do it. I won't play this fucking perverted game,

The thoughts activated what was a long time in coming, tears, and lots of them.

At 3.22AM, the last person to step out of the exit door was Daniel Guilding a.k.a Boy # 23. Disliked by many and adored by a handful. He had become a firm leader over several individuals that didn't seem to fit into any other social clique, self titled "the misfits". What many disliked about him was that he was not so much a friend as a dictator and often would physically hurt one of his "friends" if they didn't cooperate with him, boy or girl.

Leaving the exit he knew he would have to find his "disciples" before anyone else found him, Leaving the exit, he felt unlike he had ever felt in school. He felt powerless.

At 3.22AM, the doors shut to the bunker for the last time. The 6th annual Battle Royale to be held for British broadcast began. Over 350 million viewers were to tune in worldwide, betting was to become an all time high for a televised event, merchandise sales were about to go through the roof like they did at the same time every year. And class 2 of senior year at Prince Community School were about to have their lives altered indefinitely.