A/N: Hello everyone! I haven't gotten any submissions in a while, (well actually it's only been two days… But…) so don't kill me: But I've decided to go ahead and just start on my own, and make my own characters up along the way. I'll still be accepting students, but it's not going to be guaranteed that you will get a spot like you could before. This chapter is dedicated to anonymous reviewer Harley Alexander; who came up with the featured POV of this chapter; who ironically goes by the same name. Photo links for both Harley and her best friend Jackson Riddleston have been updated, I found much better ones than I had before. So anyways… I'm SUPER excited about this chapter, and I think I may create a playlist for reading this. It will involve LOTS of Gorillaz (I was listening to Demon Dayz as I wrote this…) Other than that, kisses, and Review, Review, Review!

Oh, oh, wait. Before you read, quick warning: there is a fair amount of cursing in this chapter, and talk about drug use. I think I'm supposed to say that if that triggers you, you should leave… But if you're trigger is cursing, well then I'm not really sure why you're reading a Battle Royale fan-fiction. Okay, now you can Review, Review, Review!

Falling out of aeroplanes and hiding out in holes. Waiting for the sunset to come, people going home. Jump out from behind them and shoot them in the head, now everybody dancing the dance of the dead, the dance of the dead, the dance of the dead.

-Gorillaz, Fire coming out of a Monkey's Head

O green world, don't desert me now, bring me back to fallen town; where someone is still alive.

-Gorillaz, O Green World

Chapter Two: Harley Alexander

"Harl! Get up! Jesus Christ, Harley, don't do this shit to me, PLEASE get up. Harley? Harl!? Mother fucker…"

Harley Alexander groaned, not wanting to leave the comfortable warmth of her slumber; which unwittingly earned a response from her friend Dave.

"Do you think she might turn into a zombie? Cause I've seen the Walking Dead, and noise seems to be the thing that attracts them…" The boy mused; his slightly red eyes wide as he looked at the small brunette apprehensively.

"Do you ever shut the hell up Dave? Seriously, man, I'm trying to figure out if she's fuckin' alive or not and you're all…" Jackson stopped talking as he felt the presence of a hand on his shoulder; looking over to see his good friend Hanna looking at him softly. The tall albino girl was mute, but her eyes had an uncanny way of communicating to you what she needed to say. He looked back over at Dave, and muttered a quick 'sorry' before returning his attempt to wake Harley.

"Jackson, calm down." said Zoe, a pretty mixed girl who before had been silently watching the two argue, "Everyone else woke up, why wouldn't she? I'm fine, Vince is fine, Hanna's fine, those kids in the back is fine, Dave… well I'm not sure if Dave is ever really fine, but…"

Harley opened her eyes, slightly miffed that she was being forced to wake up. Hovering above her were her five best friends, Zoe Baxter, Hanna Everett, Vincent Shields, Dave Marcoccia; who was still looking at her nervously, as if she might turn green and bite his head off at any given moment, and Jackson Riddleston; who's face broke into a wide grin of relief as she propped herself up on her elbows, shaking her long brown hair and blinking sleepily.

"Harley, I was so worried, why the hell didn't you wake up sooner, I was-"

"Jackson? Where are we?" She asked. He gulped slightly, and looked around to the others, who didn't seem to have a response for her either. Finally, Zoe spoke up:

"Well, um, you see… we actually have no idea."

At that Harley pushed herself all the way up into a sitting position, and began to look around the room.

They were in a large, industrial, classroom type space, with high gray ceilings and no windows. The only decoration in the entire room was a small tattered chalkboard, covered in some form of writing; Harley guessed Mandarin. There were bodies spread out all over the floor, and she recognized a few of them as her classmates; but the rest seemed to be strangers. She looked behind her, to see four figures huddled at the back of the room. The first was a small white haired boy, who was sitting; face cradled in his hands. His eyes were red, and he looked like he had been crying profusely. Sitting next to him were a large, rather intimidating black boy, and a diminutive Asian girl with long dark brown hair. She was crying. The two were huddled up together; the contrasting shades of their skin making them look rather like Yin and Yang. Harley looked away from them, blushing. She felt like she was witnessing a rather private moment.

As she turned away, she caught the gaze of the fourth girl, and shivered. She was beautiful; hypnotizingly so. She was a tall, but not overbearingly, with a tanned body straight out of playboy magazine. Her hair was thick, curly, and blonde, and she wore it in two low pigtails, which cascaded enticingly down to the middle of her torso. She smirked at Harley, looking her up and down appraisingly. Harley turned, not wanting to look at her anymore. Normally if a hot girl had mentally undressed her like that, she would have been flattered; but this was different. Something about the blonde beauty was disturbingly off. Maybe it's her eyes, the brunette mused; the cold blue orbs seemed more like mirror's than eyes when she looked at them, as if they were blanks, with nothing behind them. She turned back to her friends, trying to shake off the cold feeling that had invaded her body.

"Who are they?" She asked half whispering, taking Jackson's hand as he helped her to stand. It was Vincent who answered.

"The couple is Marcus and Ayumi. They seem pretty okay, if not a little shy. The white haired bloke wouldn't talk to us, and the slag in the corner is Riley." He said, his expression darkening. Zoe rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, shoving him playfully.

"He doesn't like her very much. She tried to flirt with him, and know he's convinced that she was being disrespectful to me." She smirked, covering her mouth and stage whispering, "I think it's a British thing" Vincent glowered, pulling Zoe closer to him.

"No. It's a respect thing."

Zoe rolled her eyes again, smiling up at him and kissing his cheek.

"Oh yuck… Breeder love."

Everyone turned around to see their classmate Charlie Further sit up, pushing the curly tips of her mohawk out of her eyes as she looked around the room, one eyebrow raised. "Anyone else wondering where the hell we are?"

Charlie Further was what most of the school would describe as… strange. It wasn't just her hair or her style of dress- most of the kids in the program dressed a little weird (It was a program for troubled teens, after all) It wasn't even her sexuality. She was just a little… off balance. Always in some rehab facility or another, Charlie was rarely even in attendance to school. And when she was, she was so severely drunk that no one could understand her. She began to search around the many pockets that adorned her black denim vest, cussing colorfully when she couldn't find whatever she was looking for. After a moment, she looked up, smiling nervously.

"Anyone happen to have seen a flask? Little, silver, flask shaped thing… preferably full of scotch? Cause I seem to have, erm, misplaced mine."

Everyone was silent.

"Well fine then," she grumbled, standing up shakily, "I guess I'll just go find it myself"

Charlie stumbled off towards the door, slinging a crusty looking backpack over her shoulder.

She reeled back as a loud bang cracked through the air, causing several of the students to wake up. Scrambling back to the group with full-fledged panic in her eyes; she began to babble hysterically

"There's fucking Camo's out there man! They tried to fuckin' shoot me!" She exclaimed, running her hands through her hair. "They- the-they s-shot at me man. Some-something's not right here man… Wh-where the fuck are we?!"

"Definitely not a foreign exchange program for 'troubled teens'," Dave mumbled, as the soldiers began to flood into the room; their guns raised imposingly as they lined the walls. And just when shit couldn't get ANY weirder: In walked their school principal, Candice McAdams.

The short, stocky, professional looking woman surveyed the room of ragged teens, seeming to appraise them as she tapped her practical gray heel against the floor; the noise putting the whole room on edge. Harley narrowed her eyes at her as she pulled out the lone chair that rested in front of the chalkboard, sitting down and looking toward the door expectantly. After a few moments a small woman with shock pink hair stumbled in, a maniacal grin plastered on her face. Harley immediately didn't like her, and instinctively stepped back a few feet; accidently knocking into Jackson. He looked down at her, his eyes wide with confusion and fear, and grabbed her hand. Harley normally would have snatched her hand away; but now it felt strangely comforting.

She watched in confusion as the tiny woman began to address them all in Japanese, her foreign words making no sense to her ears. But the kids who did seem to understand looked afraid; their facial expressions making her own stomach churn with anxiety. Whatever was going on here, it wasn't good.

The woman was down on her knees now, tapping a very nervous looking Asian boy on the head and clapping her hands when he scrambled away from her in fear. She then stood up, still chattering away in Japanese as she walked over to a small table in front of the chalk board, looking over to Mrs. McAdams in askance. And in what seemed like a silent agreement, both women nodded; one with glee and one with grim determination. The smaller woman turned the remote onto the class room, waving it around as if looking for someone to aim it at. Harley began to shake. She didn't know what the remote did, but she DID know that she didn't want it pointed at her head.

The woman smiled even wider as she pressed one of the buttons, a shrill alarm noise beginning to emanate from one of the boy's collars. He stood up, fear in his eyes as he clawed at his neck, which was beeping faster by the second. Mrs. McAdams finally spoke up, but Harley didn't hear the words she said; her eyes and ears were fixated on the boy's panic. He was running around in circles now, screaming for help; trying to find someone who wouldn't shove him away. Why aren't they helping him? She wondered; and as if in a trance, she began to walk towards him, and she felt his eyes meet hers. He was rushing at her, his eyes glazed with fear, his face red and puffy from sobbing. She held her arm out to him like a lifeline, and she could almost feel the heat from his fingers as he reached for her. Vaguely she could hear someone calling her name, but she ignored it. Nothing seemed to matter except the look of abject horror in the poor boys face as he clutched her hand, trying to pull her closer to him. I'm saving him, Harley though hazily, I'm saving him.

Suddenly, she was pulled from behind by the collar of her shirt, and she stumbled back, ripped out of her delusion and into reality. She screamed as the boy's collar exploded, the look on his face never leaving as his head went spinning off, spraying Harley with his blood. And yet again she was pulled from behind, this time away from the soldier who was swiftly disposing of the boy's body. The force that had been pulling her back was now turning her around, and felt strong arms envelope her torso, pressing her face into their chest, so that she couldn't see. But she could hear, and temporarily she wished she could be deaf and dumb. Everywhere around her there was screaming, and two painfully loud gunshots were let off. Harley didn't have the heart to look up to see who was dead. After what felt like a millennium, the room quieted down to a tense silence, and she looked up to see that it was Jackson that was holding her, Jackson that had pulled her away from the shrapnel of the boy's collar. Her best friend was blood splattered; his hair even more curly and messy then it had been a few moments ago. They looked at each other for a moment, before turning around to pay attention to Mrs. McAdams, who was speaking:

"Well alright now, ya'll must be pretty confused. First off, that nut case over there is Setsuko. She's the Japanese student's teacher. Now I do believe ya'll were told that this was an exchange program for underprivileged teens, right?"

Harley nodded, looking over at Jackson nervously. She didn't like where this was going.

"Wrong. You've all been enrolled in Battle Royale, a program set up by the Japanese Government to keep the underage populace in line. Every year, 42 students are sent to this Island: with the sole purpose of killing each other. They have three days to do so, or else… well,"

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look at the bloodied spot where the boy had been.

"But this year, they wanted to switch it up a bit. Apparently, the teen population of America is no more under control than Japan's, which made the good old White House, decide that they wanted in. And so the twenty one of you came to be here. This year your time frame has been expanded from three days to one week. This gives you time to REALLY get to know your classmates, who you will not be allowed to kill until there are only ten of you left. If you kill one of your fellow classmates before this time, you will go back home looking like the boy over there-" She gestured to the place where the boy had been.

"Since there were less than twenty-one of you, we had to bring in some transfer students. Say hello to Marcus and Riley."

Neither Marcus nor Riley looked up at the group, and Mrs. McAdams didn't waste any time waiting for them to reply.

"Over there are your supplies. All of them are filled with water, food, a map of the Island, and weapons. Each pack has a different weapon, not all of them competent. The bag you get can determine whether you live or die, so choose carefully."

Harley looked up at Jackson, fear in her eyes. He smiled, in what she assumed was supposed to be a reassuring manner. It came out more like a grimace. She looked around to her friends, who all seemed to have similar looks of confusion and horror on their faces. The only exception was Dave, who was staring straight forward in a rather determined manner, his eyes focused on the rack of bags. It was strange, Harley had never seen Dave look anything other than baked, and she would have not considered determination one of his better qualities. Harley turned away from him, focusing back on their principal.

"Alright, I think you're ready. When I call your name, you will respond 'Here' and come up to retrieve your bag. On the map you will find that you're team's base is marked in blue. Whether or not you head towards it is your prerogative."

Harley felt Jackson nudge her shoulder, and she turned towards him, reading his lips as he mouthed 'base'. She nodded, turning away from him.

"Okay then. Boy One: Kevin Finch."

Harley watched as the quiet boy made his way to the cart of supplies, quickly picking one up and walking out.

"Girl One: Heather White"

The proud ginger strolled onto the stage, picking up her bag with two fingers and holding it away from her, as if she were disgusted by its plainness.

"Boy Two: Julian Cole"

Julian walked forcefully up onto the stage, his normally light blue eyes clouded and dark. Harley shivered; the tall linebacker had always given her the creeps. And considering the fact that he had been placed in the 'troubled teens' program for stabbing his teacher with a ruler; she figured he was someone to watch out for.

"Girl Two: Zoe Baxter"

Zoe paled, hugging her English boyfriend goodbye; then slowly walking up to the cart of supplies. Before she left, she turned back to the group, giving them a shaky salute. Harley couldn't help but return the gesture, earning a sad smile from her friend.

"Boy Three: Tadaharu Ito"

A dorky looking boy that Harley hadn't noticed before stood up, shaking miserably as he walked up to the cart. He looked like a man on death row as he exited the room, his body language resonating a strong feeling of resignation.

"Girl Three: Hanna Everett"

Harley turned around to her good friend, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hugged her close. Hanna patted her back softly, pulling away and gazing at her with soft, motherly eyes. "I'll be at base." Harley whispered, and Hanna nodded, walking up to retrieve her bag. Jackson squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she watched as the pale girl left the room.

"Boy Four: Vincent Shields"

The tall Caribbean/English boy slung his bag over his shoulder, hugging his good friends Jackson and Dave quickly before grabbing his bags. Just before he left the room, he whispered "I'm coming, Zoe."

"Girl Four: Amayo Akemi"

Harley looked away as a sweet faced disabled girl made her way up from the back of the room, stumbling over several things along the way. The poor thing's a goner, she thought miserably. Doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hell...

"Boy Five: Marcus Blackwell"

"Girl Five: Yoshiko Akemi"

"Boy Six: James Calvin"... Harley felt mind beginning to wander as she watched her friends walk off to what would be most certainly be their deaths. She briefly wondered which one of them would kill her. Which of them she would have to kill. She shuddered at the second thought.

"Girl Seventeen: Harley Alexander"

Harley paled; her heart stopping in her chest. It was her turn. Picking up her bag and gritting her teeth, she stoically made her way up to the cart of supplies; closing her eyes as she grabbed a random bag. She glanced back at her friends, giving Jackson a meaningful look; and turned toward the door.

Her breathing faltered slightly as she looked out into the dark hallway, stopping her in her tracks. She felt stuck; paralyzed even. She couldn't make herself walk through that door: she just couldn't. She began to tremor with fear as she heard the soft clunking of boots behind her, as she felt the cold butt of a gun thrust against her back, throwing her forward into the blackness of the hallway.

She scrambled to her feet, using her hands to feel for objects in front of her. As she ran down the hall and down the stairs she realized something odd. She wasn't scared anymore. She knew that she should have been cripplingly terrified; that she should have still been screaming like when the boy's collar had exploded. But she just wasn't anymore. She felt almost as if she were having an out-of-body experience, like the events occurring were just part of a movie she was watching with her friends. And with this feeling a strange sensation of calm settled over her, cooling her frazzled and jumpy nerves. She felt completely rational and in control, like she was doing something simple, like folding laundry or brushing her hair. This must be my adrenaline kicking in, she thought, I wonder if I could lift a car off of a baby or something. She laughed softly to herself, before sprinting out the doors and into the night.

She ducked for cover under a bush, taking her map out and squinting into the darkness. Maybe I'll wait for Jackson, she thought, but quickly ditched that idea as she watched an angry looking Japanese girl shoot the living shit out of the tall, acne faced boy that had just exited the building. "Richie", she whispered, her heart clenching Holy shit… I just talked to him on the plane a few hours ago.

Stuffing her map back in her bag, she darted out from her hiding spot, and ran faster than she knew she could to the woods that lay behind her, hoping that she was heading south. She heard a loud series of bangs behind her; and thought a quick prayer for her friends, as she sprinted blindly through the trees, brances and thorns grabbing at her skin. Please, God, PLEASE let that not have been Jackson. I'll give ANYTHING.

Just as she was thinking this, she heard the crunching of leaves behind her, and sped up her pace; her heart racing. Slowly, she began to get winded, and she felt her pursuer knock into her from behind; throwing her to the floor. She scrambled forward, trying to regain her balance and her breath at the same time.

"Who's there?" She yelled, whirling around, hands out in front of her protectively. She saw the figure raise his hands in surrender, backing up.

"Jesus Christ, Harl, it's just me."

Harley breathed a deep sigh of relief, running up to Jackson and hugging him hard.

"I was so fucking worried about you… How did you find me so soon?

The tall, slender boy laughed, holding up a small electronic device.

"Tracker. It's my 'weapon' Although you were moving so fast that I thought I would never catch up to you… What'd you get?"

"What do you mean?"

Jackson rolled his eyes, "Your WEAPON, ball brains, what WEAPON did you get?"

Harley blushed, felling dumb for not having thought of that, she opened up her supply bag, searching around for her weapon. Eventually she pulled it out, squinting at the heavy metal object.

"A… Hammer? Oh perfect, that's fucking perfect. Well lock me up and call me Maxwell. (A/N) anyone get the Beatles reference… Eh? No? Okay…) that's just too brilliant."

Jackson snickered, and she raised the hammer jokingly, pretending to smash it into his head.

"No, no, don't hurt me, I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Sure you did."

Both of them spun around to see Riley, in all her blonde-cheerleader-type glory, smiling at them hauntingly. Her pink tracksuit was already blood-splattered and she was carrying two small shotguns, one in each hand. Harley grabbed Jackson's hand, making the move to run, but Riley held her hands up, trying to calm the two.

"Hey, hey, chill. Can't hurt either of you, 'member?" She said, pulling lightly at her collar.

Slowly Harley dropped Jackson's hand, narrowing her eyes at the blonde.

"Then what the hell are you here for?"

"Just want to help. I'm rounding up the Americans and bringing them to base…"

"We KNOW how to get to base." Jackson hissed. Riley huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well then, tiger… do it yourself. Just understand that I've done this before, and I might just know what I'm doing." Riley snapped, her voice poisonous, "Now are you coming with me or not."

Harley paused, looking up at Jackson. He nodded.

"Alright, we'll go with you."

A/N: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Do you guys like it?! I loved writing it! Do you think Jackson and Harley should have gone with Riley? Is Riley just playing nice for the time being, or is does she actually want to help the two friends. Review with what you thought, or suggestions for the next chapter, or who's POV you want to see next, or your favorite color or… I'm rambling aren't I?