Author's Note: This is based on the Imperialist Empire, and Republic of Greater East Asia previous war in the same world that Battle Royale takes place. But this precedes the events of the "program" that involving Shuya, Shogo, and Noriko. All comments are welcome. Thank you reading this, this is my first story on fanfiction, and I hope it isn't my last. Thank you.
The incoming artillery shells, drowned out the sounds of screaming men, as they shrieked far above in the skies, raining upon the battered trenches, of the Imperialist American Empire. The deafening roar of shell after shell firing off from the chambers of so many guns, echoed all around. Hakashita Junei, tilted his helmet down with his left hand, while his other held his shotgun. He was preparing to leave the trenches for the hell that lay burning outside of it. Fingering some more rounds into his barrel, he quickly gazed around the fringes of the trench, searching out members of the American suicide corps.
After all the American's had been known for training elitist soldiers. Stories told that many of these individuals would often blow themselves up, or charge into the enemy fray to their deaths, no matter how great the odds. One had to be careful, or they could wind up the next victim of these men, or... women. Junei frowned, as sweat dripped down his forehead, in drops, as he thought of the concept of an army with women in it. Hmph, an army with women? How could such a thing be allowed! If the Republic of Greater East Asia, tried such an idea who knows what would happen, with the women bickering, and fighting over the simplest things from what to wear, to who knows what.
Junei grinned, as his mind came back to reality. He gripped his shotgun tightly now, his left hand gripping the smooth steel barrel, while his right held the trigger readily. 1...2...3!
"Yaaaaaghhh!" Hakashita Junei, climbed out of the trench and charged out toward the enemy lines, his shot gun spewing bullets into the enemy, as fast as he could pull the pump back. Behind him several of his comrades, joined his charge and supported him, with their own shotguns.
Junei pushed himself even harder, toward the enemy, as he heard the machine guns of the imperialist army, stop their clattering fire, than begin again, only this time the hail of lead they pelted was toward him and his charge.
Soon the screams around him grew louder and louder, as those following him either collapsed, in their own blood, or screamed in agony as they realized they were missing limbs. To his own dismay Junei, was winged by a bullet across his helm, and he dropped, against a nearby tree.
What...What is this? He gazed around now, no longer pumped up with the adrenaline rush he had had only minutes ago. No longer unaware of the death around him. His nostrils breathed in the changed air. The thick stench of the dead and dying, and the blood enveloped the field. As his eye's opened to the devastation that lay around him, Junei's head fell back upon something wet and sticky. He flinched and turned around. He struggled to hold back his bowels as he almost puked, from the sight of headless body, with blood-covered entrails spilling out of it's neck, and drenched in crimson blood.
"Oh...my...God." The pure realization of what he was staring at silenced him after those last three words.