Was... Was that a gunshot?

That was the question on her mind as the dry, booming sound traveled from its source to her ears. She really didn't know that much about guns, so she couldn't guess what kind of firearm had been fired or how far it was. Still, after a couple of seconds of recovering from her sudden fright, she had no doubt in her mind that it was a gunshot.

It downright frightened her as she knew exactly where she was and what she was participating in.

When the headmaster had called her and three other students into his office, she didn't know what she, or the others had done wrong. But out of the four of them, she could guess that two of them had legitimately caused some trouble, even if one of them was being more discrete than the other.

She had gone in with her schoolmates, only to discover that there were armed police officers in the headmaster's office. They were fully decked out in what appeared to be assault equipment as they had tactical vests, balaclavas and helmets. They looked intimidating as they watched the students. Lara Springs could only guess why they were there, and looked at red headed new student Aris Carselle, who looked worried that she had been caught doing something bad. And though she couldn't see it, Leonard Duma was looking nervous as well.

"Everyone, please take a seat." The headmaster instructed. To which they all did, eyeing each other up, wondering what they had each done to have the police come to the school and have them interviewed by the headmaster. Lara herself didn't know what she had done, because as far as she knew, she was innocent of any crimes.

Her worry only intensified as she watched the headmaster take off his wire framed glasses and place them on his desk with a remorseful look on his face. "I'm very sorry to inform you all, but you four have been chosen to participate in this year's Youth Reconstruction Program." There were gasps among the four of them as the headmaster continued. "These gentlemen here are to escort you there, and I told them that you'd all come quietly and peacefully and not create a commotion."

"Why would we do that?" Aris asked as if it was the dumbest thing in the world that they'd willingly go to a death battle.

"Because if you don't," the headmaster answered. "They," he nudged his head towards the large window in the room. "Will come in and force you to go."

All four students went over to the window, and noticed that there were at least thirty riot cops standing outside ready for action. Worse yet, they looked equally, if not more, intimidating than the cops inside the room with her. She swore one of the riot cops outside gave them a wave before she swung a curtain across the window, blocking the view. "I don't want to make the school a battle ground, it'll only get you and your friends needlessly hurt. So please, don't make this any worse than it has to be."

They begrudgingly accepted to be escorted quietly by the masked officers.

Now here she was, in the middle of no where in what appeared to be a rural farming area, though probably on the edge of it as she could see a town ahead of her in the distance. She didn't know the size of it, but it didn't appear to be something suburban, but something resembling it to a degree.

Looking about, she didn't know where she should go. She didn't know if she should take her chances at one of the farm buildings, or one of the buildings in town. Sure there's more buildings there, and more likely that I'll find something there. But isn't that where everyone else'll be headed to as well?

She didn't want to run into anyone else, because not only was she delicately sized, she wasn't very strong. She looked like an easy target. To add to the fear, the gunshot told her that someone might already be playing the game. And while she hadn't watched The Program on TV, she had read enough books to know that in a situation like this, there were enough assholes in the world that would actually take advantage of the situation.

Looking between her two options, she decided to take her chances and headed towards one of the farm houses in the distance.

Jogging in the open field, Lara couldn't help but curse at her school uniform. The white dress shirt and green sweater were not optimal when you needed to run as it held in your body heat and created needless condensation. Her matching knee length green skirt and black dress shoes were not the best for running. Not only that, but her green and white tie made it seem as if she was being strangled at the neck.

She swore that as soon as she found some better clothes she was going to change into them. She didn't care if it was some farming coveralls, sweaters and skirts were not made for survival. In the meantime, she pulled off her school sweater and tied it around her waist.

Reaching the aged, two story farm house, Lara rushed inside and began her search for supplies. She didn't find anything of use to her as the house seemed devoid of supplies, but the house had running water at least.

Lara grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water, and drank deeply before she ripped off her tie and used it to tie back her blonde hair so it wouldn't get into her eyes as she ran.

Great, nothing here. What now?

She didn't have to think about it very long as Hewil Dye jumped on top of Lara and forced her to the floor rather easily with his short but fat body.

With a head of curly black hair and a face full of acne, the seventeen year old from Sunny Coast High School was not a pretty sight to look at. The boy wrapped his hands around the fifteen year old girl, effectively cutting off her air supply as he snarled at her.

"Listen here bitch and listen good. You ain't nothing here, just like you are back where ever the fuck you came from." Lara fought back as she tried to pry his arms off of her, but even though Hewil was just as tall as her at five foot one, he was too heavy for her to push off. "So you're going to work for me. Do that and I won't kill you right fucking now."

Lara, desperate for air, just nodded profusely before the fat boy smiled and got off of her.

Lara gasped and coughed as she rubbed her throat, standing up with unsteady grace, using the kitchen counter behind her as support. "Glad you at least know your place in the world."

That was when Lara, in survival mode, grabbed the cup she had drank out of and smashed it over the fat boy's head with all her might. The glass shattered as pieces of ceramic sliced the boy's head and Lara's hand open.

Both of them screamed as Lara hadn't expected to get hurt herself.

Even though Horizons Private School was one of the most peaceful schools in the country, the students were still encouraged to learn how to defend themselves for when they went to town on the weekends. Most preferred to stay within the safety of the school grounds, but there were still some that choose to take the long ride to town.

Though Lara had not partaken in any self defense lessons, she often talked with her friends about what they'd do in such situations during brakes and sleep overs. Though she had never thought that she'd actually be using something she had seen on TV to someone else until she graduated from Horizons and was bigger and stronger.

Clutching her injured hand, Lara ran past Hewil and towards the outside. She didn't know where she was going to go, but she wasn't staying around to be with him. "You cunt!" She heard him roaring. "You stupid fucking cunt!"

She burst out of the front door and made it about twenty feet before she crashed into someone. Both of them fell onto the ground before Lara thought of the worst. Someone else was going to kill her instead.

"Please don't kill me!" She begged as she held her hands over her head in a not so defensive position. Her eyes were closed so that at least she wouldn't see what had killed her.

"Lara?" A very familiar voice asked in surprise.

The young girl's eyes opened up, feeling safer once she heard the voice.

"Oliver?" She asked before she saw a tall, darker blonde haired boy with the same school uniform as her, but for men, as a blazer was in the place of a sweater and dress pants replacing a skirt.

While there were more than a few girls at Horizons that would rather stay away from eighteen year old Oliver Lockard thanks to his not always successful flirting with females and the way he'd chase them for fun, there was no one else that Lara would rather run into. Just seeing him gave Lara a sense of protection.

"Why you running sweat heart?" The self labeled ladies man asked right before he got his answer in the form of another boy rushing out of the house shouting profanities. The boy's head was bleeding, telling him that either Lara or someone else had attacked him.

"There you are you slut!" Hewil yelled, practically foaming at the mouth at Lara's display of rebellion against him. "Ready to die!"

It was enough to make Oliver's blood boil.

"You aren't going to do a damn thing to her!" Oliver shouted towards the other boy. Hewil stopped dead in his tracks in fright as he suddenly noticed that Lara was no longer alone. To Hewil, girls and women were weak, useless, and fair game to do as he pleased with. Guys on the other hand were something completely different as they were much tougher to deal with. Not only that, but his bigger and stronger friends weren't there to help him. Even worse, the pissed off boy had just grabbed a wooden Louisville Slugger baseball bat from off the ground.

Hewil found no way out of the situation as he backed up in fear with his hands up as Oliver approached him with malice on his mind. Hewil made it back into the house when he came up with a plan that wouldn't end with him being beat up.

"We can share the bitch." Hewil told Oliver. He was about to say more, but because Oliver had hit him across the face with his solid weapon with a crack and the sound of cheekbones and teeth shattering, Hewil didn't even get a chance to yell in pain as he became unconscious. Blood escaped Hewil's mouth as blood spattered onto some of the previous occupant's framed family photos as teeth landed on top of and behind the dresser. Hewil's head smacked the dresser before it slide onto the floor, leaving a long blood smear behind.

Oliver looked down at the coma like Hewil with no pity, but didn't go to bash his head open as he didn't think that he'd be able to do it, even in his enraged state. Instead, he spat on the boy who wasn't even twitching and went back over to the girl that he considered to be the little sister he never had.

"You okay?" Oliver asked.

"I am now." Lara answered. Oliver then noticed her bloody hand. Oliver ripped his tie off before he tied it around her hand and created an improvised bandage.

"This will have to do for now. I swear, I'll find something better soon."

"No no, it's good." Lara declared before she took her big brother figure by the hand. "Let's just, get out of here."

"Yeah." Oliver agreed. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

The two of them left the house and went to search some more farm houses. Oliver looked back and wondered if he should go back and make sure that the guy that attacked Lara wouldn't be coming back up. But figured that someone else could finish him off.

"You think we can find the others?" Lara asked. "Aris and Leonard?"

"I don't know." Oliver answered. "Besides, do we really want to find them? Leonard's kind of an ass with spoiled single child syndrome and Aris is kind of anti-social and hard to get along with."

"Even so, we can't survive this by ourselves. Strength in numbers and such."

"Can we even trust them?"

"Nobody else we can trust here."

Oliver thought for a moment before he responded.

"Fine. But if they do anything stupid, pop goes their head." He said as he gave his baseball bat a light swing. He only hoped that he'd have the willpower to follow through with it.

If there was one thing that he thought about being selected for The Program, it's that he didn't think that it was a bad thing. In fact, he found it a good thing. A great thing even. While he could see that his other school mates that got selected along with him didn't want to go, but were threatened with police action if they didn't. That was the only reason they went without a fuss.

Thing was, even if there was no threat of being pursued by the police, he still wouldn't have put up a fight. He'd still willingly enter The Program.

If anything, he figured that it was divine intervention that allowed him to take part in such a glorious event, one that made a difference in America against their war against the youth rebellion. Sure he wasn't all that spit and polish clean himself, but he knew that there were worse things than getting caught vandalizing someone's home. He thought that it was almost worth it as the guy had been an asshole.

Then there was the time he had shoplifted with the encouragement of his friends. It had been five years ago when he was only twelve, but he had never been caught for it. He didn't like to think that he was the same as the scum that were doing worse things than him, and he justified it towards peer pressure and that it was only a one time thing.

He worried about getting caught for shoplifting everyday since he had done it, and that fear only intensified when he got caught for vandalism. His parents managed to bail him out and give the police station a generous donation so that his record could stay clean, but the fear that the cops would actually make the charges stick, turning him into those that he despised, never went away.

Walking through the streets of the near abandoned town, Leonard Duma wondered if this was a way to make up for nearly ending up like the delinquents he hated so much.

This is a way for you to contribute back to society. You contributed to the problem of this generation when you were younger, but now you can make up for it.

Indeed, that was his plan. Kill those that were in The Program with him and make America better by taking out those that were the source of the problem. Commoners. Leonard had never heard of a rich person contributing to the economic downfall, so of course those of the lower and middle class would be responsible. Even before the downfall most of the violence and crimes were committed by them anyway.

Looking at the weapon he had found, a Walther PPK, better known as the James Bond gun, Leonard planned on raining down heavenly fire on the scum that destroyed America's reputation. He'd become a hero like the iconic spy.

Leonard was confident. Tall and fairly strong with short brown hair and a school uniform, he considered himself good looking and someone that the viewers would root for. And even though he sported a pair of glasses, the lessons his father had given him on firearms were more than enough to make up for that fact.

Turning down the street, he noticed another person jogging towards him not too far away. Both of them saw each other, and Leonard could see that the other person was holding a pistol as well. Drawing his own pistol up, Leonard pointed his weapon at the boy who simply screamed.

"Oh fuck!"

"Stay where you are!" Leonard commanded.

Leonard didn't fire however, as he noticed something peculiar about the person in front of him. For one, he was wearing a surgical mask over his face and had a black toque over his near shoulder length black hair. Black hair hung partly over his blue eyes that looked like hard marble tiles. Leonard sensed no threat with the other boy, so he decided to ask him a question, seeing as it wouldn't hurt.

"You an enforcer?" Leonard asked.

"What?" The other boy shrieked in surprise and fear. "No. Why?"

"Because you're dressed like one." Leonard answered. "Face covered and all."

"It's for protection." The boy told him with a trembling voice. Leonard could see the logic behind that. Participants feared the enforcers. More than a few ran the second they even thought they saw one.

Leonard, being a patriot through and through supported The Program, having paid for the viewing membership every year as a way to help the economy. Because of that, he also supported the enforcers, young government supporters like him in the game, and was often mad at those that murdered them. It was one of the reasons he hated the second program winner, Jerry James due to him killing an enforcer and winning the game.

There were times where Leonard wished that he could be chosen to be an enforcer when he turned eighteen. And though he was still only seventeen, he figured that this was as close as he was going to get.

"Are you mocking them?" Leonard asked more than a little annoyed the the boy's choice of attire.

"W- What?" The boy asked, confused.

"I asked if you're mocking them." Leonard asked. "The enforcers. Dressing up like them because it gives you some protection?"

"No no man," the boy said as he waved his hands wildly. "I just wanted some protection against the other kids. I support the enforcers. I support the government. I'm a patriot, really."

Leonard took a better look at the kid, and he did indeed look more like a supporter than anything else. With a blue dress shirt, crisp jeans, and what appeared to be an expensive haircut, he looked like a casual rich boy out for a night in town. Just like himself.

Leonard decided to relax a little, but still pointed the James Bond gun at the boy.

"Unload your weapon and come to me with the barrel pointed away from me." Leonard demanded.

"I can't." The boy told him.

"The hell do you mean you can't?" Leonard asked.

"I literally can't," the boy explained. "It's not even real." Leonard then saw a jet of water fly out of the barrel of the gun, finding that it was just a really realistic looking water gun. Leonard gestured the boy to come towards him, and the boy did. When they got close enough the boy handed him the water gun. "I've got nothing else dude. That water gun was for show until I got something real."

"Fair enough." Leonard said. "What do you think of The Program?"

"Why?" The boy asked in confusion.

"Just answer the damn question," Leonard demanded before he pointed the gun at the boy's head. "Answer wrong and you'll find your head splattered on the street."

"Okay okay." The boy said loudly as he jumped back with his hands up. "It's a good way to get rid of the trouble makers. There. Happy?"

"Very." Leonard said with a smile, glad to find something like minded like him. He had seen and heard too many of the pussy, pro-peace variety back at Horizons. Leonard lowered his gun, and the boy began to visibly relax. "Name?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really. Come on, want to help cleanse the country?"

"Sure." The boy told him, a smile visible behind the surgical mask.

"Good. Let's go."

"You lead." The boy said.

"Why should I be in front in the line of danger?" Leonard asked.

"You're the one with the working gun." The boy explained.

"Touche." Leonard acknowledged before he turned and began walking down the streets, looking for prey. And now he had a lacky with him. Leonard personally didn't care whether he lived or died, but it was nice to have someone rich like him around that knew how the world worked and supported The Program. He didn't expect much out of him as Leonard was willing to sacrifice him at a moment's notice if it meant his survival. He was going to help make the country great again, and if a few needed to die for him to do so, so be it. The couple of friends he had made at Horizons didn't care if he got chosen and died in The Program, and he in turn felt the same way. This guy was no different.

The Program battlefield is just like the real world. Leonard thought. I'm getting everything I want, because it was meant to be.

"So what's the plan?" The boy asked as he trailed behind Leonard.

"We find other students and kill them. With the two of us, we can blow this place sky high."

"Yeah... About that." The boy said oddly calmly.

Leonard processed that tone of voice as a point forty four magnum round drilled a hole through the back of his head and exited his nose with a loud boom, causing his face to bloom into a devilish red lilly. Blood, bone, and brain sprayed out of his skull like a meaty stew before his body collapsed onto the ground with a thud.

Keith Morton of the enforcers would have felt bad about killing someone from Horizons, but knew that the government had no use for Leonard Duma as a winner.

Keith marveled at how his plan had gone perfectly. The retard hadn't even checked him for additional weapons, and missed the point forty four magnum shoved in the back of his belt. Of course, if Leonard had found the weapon he wouldn't have hesitated to fight back.

Working as a volunteer nurse in Nevada, Keith had come to learn how to defend himself when confronted. Something that was common among the rebellious youth that came to the hospital he worked at and on the streets.

He had seen stabbings, gunshot wounds, drug overdoses, and injuries that suggested torture, so seeing Leonard's face blown off wasn't anything new to him.

I wanted to find the guy that was screaming, but he's not screaming anymore. Lost my chance, maybe someone else finished him off? Maybe he's alive? Did someone help him? Self aid?

Picking up Leonard's Walther PPK and leaving behind the useless water pistol, Keith continued down the path, looking for more people.