Battle Royale – A Game To Remember

Chapter Five


The air was humid, with the slight chill of the mist that was fast increasing in the atmosphere. Leon Kennedy (Boy 8) leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, setting himself comfortably before brushing a hand through his flawlessly messed blonde hair and shifting through the bag again. The leaves rustled a greeting in the soft wind, disconcerting and awakening. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of hands searching through the rucksacks noisily and the fading shine of Patrick Newport's (Boy 11) torch just to see something in the pitch black of the night. He shut it off again with a loud "click", surrounding them in shadows when he knew that what he had found wasn't a weapon. The rummaging continued, and it was done in complete silence: since the boys only seemed to talk when completely necessary, only in the clear exceptions of a few times in class when Leon was sometimes willing just to spare Joyce (Girl 8) a few words.

All in all, the two best friends were completely poles apart, but not enough to the degree that it was no longer obvious that they would get along well – because they did, and each knew what the other would be thinking, unintentionally. Leon, tall, handsome and a generally nice guy beneath his affirmed toughness – he held the piercing blue eyes, and the toned body. Patrick, who was taller, also attractive with mid-length hazel brown hair and brown eyes - was less toned, sort of lanky, more toward the undernourished side. Not generally nice, unlike his best friend, he was slightly malevolent and bad tempered - which proved to fail him in times of frustration.

Thankfully Leon was quick to be at his side and strong enough to held him back. As well, to add to the Leon versus Patrick comparisons, Patrick's voice, thick with anger and in a trademark British accent, was unlike Leon's soft all-American voice. When Patrick's voice would give his emotions away with a mutter, Leon's was more reserved and hard to read.

So far, they had managed to walk into the darkest, thickest part of the forest given that they knew that most people wouldn't find them in that area for a while at least. Their metal collars lit up every once in a while, and now they both knew the full extent of the area they were allowed in – they quickly learned their limits and found some tree roots to rest on after an hour or two. Before another silence invaded them again, Patrick slumped the bag onto his lap with an irritated grunt and began his slow shifting through his bag, as if to study everything he had extra carefully.

The light flashed on again, but for longer this time around, as Patrick looked at the map and Leon caught a glimpse of the eagerness in his eyes for a moment. Though he was still unsure of what the eagerness was for, perhaps to help others or for the more likely side of him, to play the game. The bloody game of death and heartlessness – it seemed pretty sick.

Patrick hadn't mentioned it, but Leon knew him far too well to know exactly how much the guy would love to finally have the chance to play revenge on all those who had frustrated him in any way - and that's what scared Leon, even just the slightest to make him flinch… because he knew Patrick's list of hopeless souls, of by heart.

Basically, everyone in class who was becoming fond to Leon, but was equally becoming more disgusting to Patrick – while the scale skied up one way, it stooped down the other. A no win situation? Maybe… He had the full capability of killing anybody he wanted, and he was in full swing of choosing who he was going to come after first. It could be anyone.

"Found anything?" Leon asked sternly, pulling a medium sized knife out of the bottom of his rucksack, he wasn't shocked or anything of the sort, just half-glad to have something of protection. He immediately tucked it into his belt strap for safekeeping: tapping it lightly with his finger and tracing its outline to check its sharpness, it was very sharp, that was for sure. Though there was no real intention of using it, there was no hesitation to be taken in any drastic case. Leon was met by a lack of response as Patrick growled and pulled a light yellow bottle out of his own bag, its light shade luminous in the shadow ever so minutely. He threw him a questioned look, but he knew that his companion had not the ability to see through a few metres of complete darkness. But somehow, he sensed it.

Patrick threw the item back into his bag angrily, almost smashing it in the process. Leon heard him get up and stomp around to try and calm himself in the ways that he was taught how. Even form the distance; Leon could hear him kicking forcedly at the dirt beneath his feet and pretty soon, the smell of musky sand hit his nostrils full force. He resisted the urge to cough violently, but instead waved the space in front of him blindly to fan the air away. He heard Patrick's wicked laugh, further than he expected he was and barely stiffened, yet letting his hand drop down to its original position.

"Lotion. I've got a damn bloody baby lotion!" He growled, but almost playfully rather than the angry side that Leon was expecting to hear, he made a face, "It's all yellow and gay! What do they want me to do? Kill or wipe my enemies' butts until they're super soft!" He chuckled again, but almost silently this time. The joke failed to amuse Leon.

"Bastards…" Patrick murmured. He picked up his bag, swinging it onto his shoulders and leaning against a tall oak tree. Leon followed, standing and walking over in his direction, but still far enough away to keep at a safe distance. He played with the knife by his hip and thanked the lack of light so that the blade wouldn't give away its position.

"What do you have?" Patrick asked, on tenterhooks and shocking his friend out of the long silence. The trees rustled again, but so noisily it was deafening. The humid atmosphere disappeared and was replaced with a icy wind. The mist was heavy now, and with every moment they took, it seemed to slap a thin layer of water on their faces.

Leon hesitated for a brief second, whether to lie or just to tell the honest truth. Each way wouldn't probably end to well anyway, if he lied, it would be likely for Patrick to lash out on him; but if he told the truth, Patrick would most definitely try to take it. With all sureness, though by telling the truth eon could hold of the fight for a bit longer. Then, as if from nowhere, his voice was clear and sure, "A medium sized, army-knife." He stated, in so many words.

Patrick laughed again, almost happily, but the element of evilness was present all the same. He waited for the noise of the leaves to subside before walking off towards a southwest direction, sure that Leon would follow without a word.

"I'm sure we could still take them out with that measly weapon…" Patrick said, almost inaudibly so that even Leon had to strain his ears. When the leaves returned to their still absence of noise, there was yet again, nothing but the distant sound of footsteps and the earth colliding. The leaves were silent, in fear of blood to spill again. An island tired of the horrors that were brought yearly upon its cold, empty soils.


Jared Ridge (Boy 13) took a step back, the loud sound of his feet shuffling in thick sand scraping the surrounding landscape, echoing with a bounce on the rocky hills close to the coast. After looking backwards a few times, he inwardly decided it was safe to claim this piece of land here on the beach – at least just for the night. It was almost dark, and the mist crept up the beach in the most eerie way possible, at least here he would still be able to use the light horizon's light, rather than having only his own shadow for company. Yeah, that's what he was thinking. At that moment, the sky glowered into a deep purple, that it was almost black, from a few hundred miles; the sun winked its final farewell and departed in to the unknown.

He stretched a hand backwards, his long fingertips meeting with the cold texture of rock – Jared leant back against it and rested on for a brief minute or so. His back, his neck and his arms were suddenly scorched, as icy lips of stone kissed them. The burning turned into a sense of relief. He sighed.

His eyes darted around again, his fingers clutching his bag; he swung it over his body and sat down, leaning on the cold rock. He ceased to slide downwards the solid aid as he prodded the outer layer of his schoolbag, its square shape, ragged and used over the years of being owned, gave him some comfort. Once settled down, he used the long sleeve of his blazer to wipe the slight trickle of sweat from his lower neck before he shook it of him and threw it to his side. He did the same with his jumper.

Jared let out a deep exhale watching the steam dance around his face, and he shivered. With a slight glitch of hope he dug out his cell phone and flipped it open hastily. He met the black screen and tried to restart it several times, with no anticipation, it was out of service and battery. With so much luck.

He groaned and chucked the cell phone as far as he could, feeling the joint of his shoulder click with the force, so far he thought he heard it shatter against the hard large rocks across the beach. His feature broke into a pout gladly, without fear of anyone seeing because there was less and less hopefulness of not playing this game entirely. Somehow, somebody was forcing them to play.

And he had to help those who he knew would be willing to do otherwise.

"Maybe if…" His thoughts were abruptly cut off by the crunching of footsteps nearby.

His head shot up, and he forgot to continue breathing. His stiff position he lifted his weapon, a Taser, toward the direction of the noise. But dropped it slowly when he knew that he would not be able to use it anyway. He was not the guy to kill, let alone hurt anyone. Even if he had been a nerd all his life, he had no need to climb the social ladder as others did. And even revenge wouldn't taste so sweet to him.

He was a nice guy. There was no escaping the nature, though sometimes he tried to fight against.

The footsteps got closer, louder… and he even heard the murmur of several voices. Most likely to be a group of people walking together leisurely. He didn't want to take a sudden chance. Jared tried to sink deeper into the now warmed up, rock but his legs only moved to stand, his legs shaky they almost chattered.

"Leave me alone Phoebe!" A husky voice, yelled from beside him and the crunching subsided for a moment. There was a whimper.

Jared slid to the opposite side of the rock, away from the voices, his arm outstretched again with the Taser. His eyes scattered the scene for any more sign of movement.

Suddenly, the shuffling through the stony beach continued, the voices louder, casual. He picked out a few familiar voices.

"How long is this going to last, huh?" A shrill tone of voice rang out, questioning the others. Phoebe Miller (Girl 9). She was not the kind of person Jared would feel comfortable with right now, and it very much sounded like she had managed to find the rest of the clique too. He peeked sneakily from the side of the rock to watch, his arm stopping a little.

He saw the silhouettes trudging at a snail's pace across the place where he just sat. Their distances measured - cautious. There were four? Which meant some of the gang were missing… three to be exact. Looked like the most annoying of them all was absent from the rest of her "worthy" followers. Jared eased a little, scooting over to hide from them more thoroughly.

"Would you think we could kill each other?" The husky voice returned, making Jared and the others jump. The voice belonged to none other than the Captain of the varsity jocks, Eddie Campbell (Boy 3). Jared could almost picture him in his usual stance; medium height, bulky in areas of muscle and short cropped dark hair. He was unpleasant to all the people he possibly could at school, which gave him the element of fear. An advantage.

There was a loud thud and a crash as the stone flew away as someone fell over, face first. Jared heard the shimmering of the stones and the silence from the group.

"Shit!" A guy cursed.

Beep! Beep! A recognizable ring flowed out the scene.

"Get off me Steven!" The beeping stopped.

A fury of footsteps prodded toward the noise and halted, "What the fuck just happened?" The deep voice demanded. There was a series of groans and shuffling – people getting to their feet.

Steven Kingman (Boy 9) the source of the entire racket, coughed loudly before speaking, his voice higher than Eddie's but croakier, "I tripped over something man!"

"Yeah and then fell on me!" A girly voice demanded attention.

"Shut up Faith! No one cares!" Steven retorted, louder.

"What was it?" Eddie continued. A flashlight turned on, lighting the surroundings and showing my being, despite my attempt to hide from them.

"Should I run?" Jared thought, his mind racing ahead.

"It was a bag?" Phoebe asked curiously, finally rejoining the conversation and kicking Jared's bag.

"Jared!" Faith Rose (Girl 12) screamed. She took a step towards him, but stopped when she thought he was going to run. He dropped the Taser to the ground, but he couldn't run. A series of gasps subjected towards him. They started talking to him, bickering, asking questions and whatever their mouths could get out. Their lips moving at high speed, and circling him enquiringly.

"What are you doing here?"


Olivia Warred's (Girl 19) dark, ivory hair billowed menacingly in the wind. She backed up towards a clearing, knowing all too well that someone followed her here. Her pale skin lit up once the moon's light reflected off it and she knew that hiding herself would do no good now. It was hopeless.

Somebody hissed as they appeared from out of the black trees, snarling at her new victim. Sophie Young (Girl 20) her long hair, scrawled everywhere and her straight cut bangs dripping with blood from a cut across her forehead. The crimson fluid flowed down her face, crossing her eye lid and her left cheek. Her teeth were stained by it too. Olivia flinched as the girl in front of her smiled, baring a wide set of perfect teeth.

Olivia's eyes followed down the blood, scattered across her uniform, her skirt hitched and her shoes worn from running. Had she killed someone already?

Sophie had both hands gripped onto a dirty butcher's knife… a meat cleaver. And it was pointed, directed in her path. Olivia's hockey stick would be no match for that. She continued to walk backwards, feeling her doom to arrive soon.

Squish. Squish. The wet earth protested as the two girls stepped lightly upon it.

As Olivia took another steady step backwards, Sophie was gone. Running, or more like flying at a winds speed to her back. Olivia roared out in pain as a deep knife cut transversely across her spine. Her legs gave way to both surprise and ache, as she fell; her knees collided violently onto the grass.

There was a cackle.

She had to fight back somehow. Stay alive if she could. Olivia laid down, her back not being able to sustain any more weight and she saw, from the corner of her eye that Sophie was getting ready to strike again, a crazy, psycho look in her almost red eyes. Olivia choked, picking up her stick and whacking the girl across the nose just in time. Sometimes cracked.

However it did nothing. Sophie straddled the poor girl, who was choking something like a misunderstanding to the current situation. Olivia gurgled in hurt as Sophie stabbed her, twisting, a hundred times in the neck. Each time blood spurting out and covering the predator even more the thin layer of her craved liquid. Her eyes widened excited as she kept plunging the knife in, clunks flying until there was hardly anything left in the neck. A gaping hole greeting the lit eyes of Sophie Young.

She laughed wickedly, and finally got her first taste of the ever wanted blood.

She wanted. And was going to win…


Time

3 hours played

68 hours left

Dead

Male: None

Female: Olivia Warred (Girl 19)

Remaining

38 students


A/N : I thoroughly apologize for the delay, for I was on vacation my dear readers. And of course, suddenly fanfiction was acting up and wouldn't save my chapter. Grrr. Also if anyone has heard of Twilight- ehem, the best book ever. I have also been buying and reading that obsessively over my few days. I'm now on the last book, but no one cares.. So read read read it. I hope its half good. Since my writing seems rusty. Poor Olivia, but I guess someone needed to die.

Okay, Character? Which one to talk about? Why not Patrick, who is note to you is my younger brother! Ha! Gotcha, didn't I? Well, he isn't as bloodthirsty as I write but I based his character on his obsessive instinct and manner when he plays gory video games and such. When he's muttering to himself about crappy weapons and all sorts of killing people. He's fun to watch. So there's Patrick. He told me in confidence the other day to kill his character with some sort of amusement. So I shall do that. Hehe…

You know how it goes, revieeeeeew until my heart bursts. Please. Thank you to all who put this story on Alert or on your Favorites. And for your insightful reviews, SlasherFanatic26, Mosvie 2k8, sovereignty'd, and Cross-eyed-Kelly… namely Joyce and that awesome nickname I gave her. You guys are wonderful! Thanks again to all - and to the others, review please. I would really love it. Also to "nope" thanks, but that was slightly harsh. Hmm.

Thanks guys. :D

-Fallen11angel