Thursday, July 22, 2010, 12:08 AM

Jackie Berkley (F17) woke up first, in a daze that felt like a mild hangover. She lay staring at the ceiling for about ten seconds before getting up and looking around. It was a vacant room with gray walls and a large steel door in one corner. Looking around, she discovered the disturbing sight of many of her coworkers lying on the floor, unconscious, much like she just was.

Jackie looked over to the person lying beside her, and after turning him over, she discovered that it was Casey Gould (M15), a shaggy-haired coworker whose schedule was usually 6-2:30 PM, a schedule that Jackie had vehemently refused to work in her job interview almost a year earlier (she often worked from 3:30 PM to closing at 10:00). She nudged him trying to wake him up. After a few seconds, Casey bolted to life and looked around.

"What the fuck is this?" Casey asked in a nervous tone.

"I don't know," Jackie replied, calm but nervously. "Help me wake everyone up."

The two quickly went to work waking their coworkers up. After waking a few up, she came across the unconscious body of Sydney Rillamy (F9), who had been fired seven months prior. What is she doing here? Jackie thought to herself. It took a second for Jackie to even remember her: Sydney worked in the backroom, like herself, and had changed her hair color once every few weeks (at the moment, her hair was magenta). After Sydney, Jackie came across the bodies of two more people who had quit, albeit more recently: Rich Saldona (M14), a short but overweight Hispanic (former) backroom worker who had left less than a month ago due to finding a better job, and who was not missed by many people due to acting like an overbearing supervisor even though he wasn't, and Nick Ellis (M18), who had left about three weeks before Rich did due to, apparently, being fed up with working there. Unlike Rich, however, Jackie liked Nick, and liked him even more when, after Nick had put in two weeks notice, he told her that she was one of the only people he ever truly enjoyed working with. On his last day, Jackie gave him a hug and said she would really miss him.

Casey, meanwhile, came across another employee who had left, only this employee, like Sydney, was fired: Bill Shearer (M11), who randomly decided to not show up to work only two weeks previously, and was fired over the phone by supervisor Scott Whitley (M6), whom Casey had woken up immediately before Bill.

After a few minutes, everyone in the room was awake. Some were freaking out, some were chatting with each other about what was happening, and some simply ignored everyone. Scott, who had been in the Marines when he was younger, decided to use his leadership skills that he had used on his truck-unloading team in the morning. Unfortunately, his morning team was absent from this game, with the exception of Taylor Allister (M5). Nevertheless, he was going to try.

"Okay everyone," Scott said calmly, "I know you're all scared. I'm scared too, okay? But we need to be calm and figure this out together and-"

"What is there to figure out?" Ian Lynley (M19) interrupted. "We're in The Program! You know, Battle Royale? Number one show in all of America!" Ian, a typically cynical and mostly obnoxious employee, who had dark hair and a seemingly perpetual five o'clock shadow, knew faster than anyone that they were in The Program. Everyone looked at each other, and some even started crying. Scott, however, despite knowing that Ian was probably right, tried to keep order in the group.

"We don't know that for sure," Scott lied. "We just know that-"

"WHAT? What do we know? That we've been kidnapped and put in a large prison cell in some random corner of the planet?" Ian was almost laughing now at the fact that Scott thought he could tell people everything was going to be all right.

While Scott and Ian continued to argue, Nick tried to stay in the back of the group. He found himself standing beside his crush Grace Bulworth (F4), a relatively new employee at SaveHouse who had very long brown hair and despite having an almost instantly noticeable acne problem, she was quite beautiful. Nick looked at her and saw that she was gently crying. He decided to walk over to her and try and talk to her.

"Grace," Nick said, "are you all right?" After asking it, he instantly regretted it, realizing what a stupid question it was.

She shook her head. "Please tell me this isn't happening. Tell me I'm dreaming."

"I don't know exactly what's happening," Nick said, "but I promise I'll try and keep you safe no matter what happens."

"Why? I mean, why me?"

Nick found himself struggling to find the right words to say. "Because you're my friend. I've always thought you were a good person."

Grace flashed a brief smile. After returning a brief smile, Nick noticed something on her neck. Grace looked at him, confused, then suddenly, she noticed something on his neck. They walked to each other and looked at the strange device.

"I think it's a collar," Nick said, nervously.

Grace then went to look at Nick's collar, when he noticed something else. This, however, was in her left hand. It was a number. Specifically, a red "4". He looked at his own hand and discovered a blue "18". He looked around to whoever had their left palm exposed. He found a red "21" on the palm of Anna Sheldon (F21) and a blue "7" on the palm of Conor Grady (M7). Nick deduced that all the men had a blue number and all the women had a red number. What the numbers meant, however, Nick had no clue.

Suddenly, the back wall of the room opened up. Scott and Ian instantly stopped fighting as six rows of tables, with seven seats at each table, automatically moved into the room. Everyone moved to the sides of the room to avoid the tables. As everyone tried to figure out what was going on, the large door at the front of the room suddenly opened. After the door opened all the way, three men walked in. The first two held M4 assault rifles and were dressed identically in black suits and sunglasses and even looked similar except for one man having blonde hair and the other having jet black hair. Afterward, a man in a dark blue suit with a red-and-yellow tie walked in. Everyone from the meeting earlier instantly recognized him as the man from corporate.

"Hello again everyone," the skinny and average-heighted fortysomething man said, "my name, at least to all of you, is Wayne. This blonde man on my left may be referred to as Pat, while my dark haired friend to my right may be called Pat. I would like all of you to take a seat." Wayne was in a very disturbing good mood.

Everyone in the room took a seat quickly.

"Now," Wayne continued, "we are going to continue our meeting. Except this meeting is going to end significantly differently than it did for your coworkers. I am the administrator of the most popular game show of all time. I'm sure you know what it is."

Pretty much everyone in the room knew what he was talking about. Ian was right.

"You have been chosen as the participants in the July 2010 installment of The Program, also known as Battle Royale!"

The room erupted in screams. One woman, Janelle Kinison (F10), ran towards the metal door and tried to open it. Pat grabbed her and attempted to pull her away, but she elbowed him in the groin and managed to open the door. However, Wayne walked calmly to the door, pulled out a Desert Eagle, and shot at Janelle as she ran down the hall. It took just two shots to hit her, and the fatal shot was delivered to the nape of her neck, severing her spine. The gunshots immediately silenced everyone in the room.

'I wish Janelle didn't have to die," Wayne said blankly, "but I also wish that no one, and I mean NO ONE, breaks the rules."

He paused.

"Oh yeah that's right, I forgot to mention that I've researched all of you for some time. I know all of your names, all of your ages...hell I've even seen some of you naked!"

The thought of that sent a shiver down the spines of all of the women in the room and even some of the men.

"Anyways, enough bullshitting. It's time to get to the rules. All of you have been fitted with a special collar."

The majority of the room hadn't noticed that they had collars on. Those who hadn't immediately felt their necks and felt the cold metal of the collar.

"Those collars are shockproof, waterproof, all kinds of proof. Just about every kind of proof except bulletproof. Keep that in mind. You'll get it later. Anyways, those collars will be used to monitor your vital signs and we will also use them to listen to any conversation you have. It's good for ratings for people to listen to you guys and it helps us make sure you aren't trying anything too ballsy."

He's getting off on this, Nick thought to himself.

"Every six hours, starting at 6:00 AM, I will make an announcement over the island's PA system telling you which of your coworkers have died. I will also announce three new 'danger zones', which are portions of the island that, after a certain time, will become off-limits, in order to increase the likelihood of encounters. If you are in a danger zone, your collar will detonate instantly, making it your last mistake. Ever."

Jackie shook her head, appalled at what she was hearing.

"The good news is that until the first announcement, there will be only one danger zone, and that is G2, which is the location of this building. It will become a danger zone ten minutes after the last of you leaves."

He paused.

"One last thing about the collars: if you attempt to take them off, they will detonate. There is, and I cannot stress this enough, NO way out of this collar, except to win. Am I clear?"

Several people nodded.

"Okay. Now for the basics. Upon leaving, you will all receive a duffel bag containing food, water, a map, a pen, a compass, and, best of all, a randomly designated weapon. Not all guns and knives, but if you're smart, you can find a way to kill someone with whatever weapon you receive. The only exceptions are three items which are not weapons, but still very, very useful nonetheless."

After that, Wayne snapped his fingers, and Pat and Jim left the room.

"They'll be waiting for all of you to give you your weapon. Before we begin, there is one last rule that I need to tell you about: if twelve hours pass without at least one kill, every single collar on this island will detonate. Remember January 2008? Thirty-one people dead in the blink of an eye through gruesome decapitation. That season sucked in my opinion. But I digress. Are there any questions? Comments? Complaints? Death lists you wish to share? Anyone?"

Rich raised his hand.

"Yes Rich?"

"Um...hey...I don't work with these people anymore. I got a new job. There must be some mistake, right?"

"Rich my friend, do you honestly think we didn't know that? What do you think we're sitting here scratching our balls all day? We thought it could motivate you to fight and the people love 'motivatees', as I call 'em."

"No...please I'll do anything! Please!"

Wayne cocked his head. "Like kill everyone around you?"

Rich was silent. Then he sat back down.

"Anyone else?" Wayne asked.

John Carven (M16), Nick's old friend from SaveHouse who had a Mohawk of red hair with a long red beard, raised his hand.

"Yes John?"

After being slightly taken aback by Wayne knowing his name, John continued. "What's the battlefield like? And for that matter are we on an island? In a forest? What?"

"Well John we are on an island. An island one hundred and fifty miles away from the nearest large landmass. And this island has a whole neighborhood community. Houses are all over the island and all of you are free to use them how you want. You'd all be surprised at how willing the homeowners were to give up their homes for our program. And the weather, by the way, is expected to be quite nice today, so enjoy."

John nodded, and sat back down.

"Any more? I'm patient."

Casey raised his hand.

"Casey?"

Casey stood up, with a look of pure anger in his eyes. "How can you do this to people? Do you enjoy being the brains behind some fucking gladiator match that sells for a hundred bucks on pay-per-view? Do you enjoy watching women have to fight off some sick rapist threatening to shoot her head off if he doesn't lay him?"

The whole room watched as Casey seemingly dug his own grave.

Wayne pulled a remote out of his pocket and pointed it at Casey. Pressing one button, Casey's collar began to blink.

"You might want to think this through kid. You're dead if you push your luck further."

"Y'know what, fine! I'd rather die than cater to you sociopathic government freaks!"

"Done."

With another press, Casey's collar detonated, sending chunks of his head, neck, and shoulders all over the room. Everyone in the room found themselves with at least some of Casey on their body. Jackie, sitting right next to Casey, was covered almost completely from the waist up, but she was in too much shock to notice.

"Oh well. I don't like odd numbers anyways. Especially forty-one; yuck."

The entire room was still too shocked to notice.

"Any MORE questions?"

No one raised their hand.

"Good. Then let's get this started! We'll go ladies first, meaning that we'll start with female number one, then male number one, then female number two, and so forth. And after I call your name, you have twenty seconds to get out of the building before the next number is called. Got it? Good. So, let's get the ball rolling and start with F1, Claire Hunter."

The middle-aged human resources worker slowly walked to the door and left. Down the hall, Pat and Jim were standing in front of a flat, ironically one from SaveHouse, and Jim pointed his M4 directly at Claire Hunter (F1) while Pat threw her a duffel bag. Then Claire ran outside and disappeared into the wilderness.

As Wayne continued calling everyone's number, Nick did a quick count and realized that Grace would be the seventh person to leave while he would be the seventh-to-last leave. He couldn't tell her to wait for him, as twenty-six people would leave between them.

Damn!

"F4, Grace Bulworth."

Grace stood up and calmly walked from her seat in the back row to the door, caught her bag, and left.

Wayne continued calling numbers.

"M16, John Carven."

Nick's longtime friend walked from his seat in the third row to the hallway, where he caught his bag and left the building.

"F17, Jackie Berkley."

Nick's OTHER longtime friend, who was short and petite with jet black hair and glasses, walked quickly to the hallway, caught her bag and made her way to the exit. Upon exiting the building, she was shocked to come across John, who had apparently waited for her to come out. She jumped when she saw him.

"John! What the hell are you-"

"Come with me! You'll be safe I promise!"

"Why? Why should I trust you?"

"This is why:"

He then pulled a Desert Eagle, exactly like the one Wayne had, out from behind his back. Jackie, who had never liked John very much due to him usually coming off as a slacker, was now terrified.

"Oh shit!"

She turned to run, but John grabbed her and tackled her into a bush and covered her mouth with his hand. He did this so that the next person out the door wouldn't attack in case he was playing. As they hid, they watched Joe Willard (M17), a chubby African-American who worked at SaveHouse's snack bar, leave the building. He ran quickly into the woods.

"Listen Jackie, you want to know that you can trust me? Here."

He then put his Desert Eagle into her hand.

"If that's not trust," John said, "I don't know what is."

Jackie nodded. "O-okay."

"Let's go. Quickly!" The two of them quickly disappeared into the treeline.

After watching his old high-school classmate Sarah Gilbert (F18) leave before him, Nick's number was called.

"M18, Nick Ellis."

Without hesitation, the long-haired, bespectacled former employee ran to the hallway, caught his bag, and went outside. Quickly reaching into his bag, he pulled his weapon: a wooden baseball bat.

"It'll do," he said to himself.

After that, he ran into the woods, well aware he was about to be in hell.

Dead

Males

#15

Females

#10

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