Authors Note: This the first story I've published, and this chapter is what I'm using to determine whether or not to write this particular story. It centers on a character that I feel has been severely underdeveloped, with the majority of the story leading up to this scene, and the climax and denoument coming immediatly after. If you're interested in reading the rest of the story, say so.

Prologue

He slid down to the floor with his back against the lockers. Wiping the sweat from his

eyes he paused and listened to the harsh screams and shouts coming from the other floors. From where he was they sounded muffled, but they would come closer. They would keep coming.

For now though, Jason Cross wanted to rest.

It is a curious feeling to be so tired, so exhausted, and apathetic about your own endeavors, yet have such a steely resolve capable of lifting you time and again. He thought back to the last time he had slept, it must have been well over 24 hours. The last time he had eaten? Hadn't had a proper meal all week, come to think of it.

Enough, he thought, if I sit here too long I'll just fall asleep.

He groaned as he lifted his aching body to its feet another time, steadying himself on the drinking fountain.

He had lost his shoes hours ago, and his feet were already cut and stubbed from running through the school. His jeans too were muddy and torn up. Even his jersey was scrapped, he would need to pay the school for it. He was pretty sure he was bleeding as well, but he was so sweaty and tired it was hard to tell.

Now that he had caught his breath, Jason stopped to look around. They had driven him into the bowels of the school, probably near the locker rooms from the looks of it. All the electricity had been blown out when he had first arrived, so only the backup lights were running, making it difficult to see. He knew that he had just been sitting in a puddle, and they had partially flooded the lower levels. A glaring red "EXIT" sign was glowing on the far end of the hall, casting an horrid light on the water pooling around his hiding place. The other kid that had been with him had been injured; he was lying his side, unconscious. It could have been blood soaking his clothes, Jason couldn't tell in the red light. A ridiculous paper banner spanned the wall opposite him, "Knights!" written in gold and blue.

More shouts, louder now. Jason knew he should move, unless he wanted to fight again. He wasn't really hiding, he thought, he had just outrun them, for now. A fight was inevitable, he had been sure of that for a long time, but it couldn't happen here. He had already been in a few too many brawls tonight, he needed to save himself and he was running dangerously low on energy.

Jason started walking to the far end of the hallway, optimistic if not pleased that his gait was still strong and confident. Years of basketball did have its unforeseen benefits. His feet splashed through the corridor; shit, now he would leave wet footprints. No matter, pretty soon it wouldn't matter. He paused under the red exit sign and glanced up at the clock on the wall; 3:14 am. That meant he had less than three hours before Troy and the others found out and came looking for him. Yeah, time to finish what he started and stop running around, he thought.

Jason drew the heavy obsidian revolver cautiously from his hip. Holding it in both hands he checked the sight, the chamber, feeling its unpleasant weight. It seemed to drag his hands, maybe it was because he was tired, it felt too heavy. The wooden handle smiled and gleamed with vivacious energy, and the deep gunmetal burned with an ominous malice. He did not want to actually have to use it, he kept telling himself, but it looked more and more necessary. He should not have even brought it

This entire damn thing was pure bullshit. Whether or not he was doing right, or the West kids were, it was going to stop tonight. They would learn not to start conflicts they couldn't finish. He checked the chamber again; six shots, and he had seven more shells in his pocket. Thirteen total. Am I really prepared to shot up a school? He asked himself again, after many hours of debate. Yes, was the unfortunate answer, he was.

How did he get here? Ready to flush out a rival school, ready to kill. Because of what? Ready to sacrifice his friends, his grades, his future, basketball, Kelsi. Oh well, he thought with conviction, some things are more important than the individual, than life. It must have been after winter break, when that new girl came. No, this was not Troy's fault. Chad, Chad and that damn girl he liked so much. They had blamed Troy, but that wasn't it. It was all because of the inane shit with the cliques and the "status quo." What a stupid reason to die over, just because his they hadn't been mature enough to be honest with themselves. When Chad had made them all go to the Chem Lab, that was when it started...