BR-USA: The Survival Program in America

by WTalespinner

Following the capture of Shuya Nanahara by an american Black Ops unit in 2007, and in the wake of the violent quelling of a peaceful protest in front of the Tweed Courthouse in NYC, the BR Act is secretly passed in the United States, and a Queens Middle School is sent to a remote island, where they're forced to fight for their lives.

11. X: Day Two - The Second Report

X: The Second Report

"Shouldn't you be worried about your life, instead of that useless micropenis of yours?"

- Takako Chigusa, "Battle Royale"

12:00 P.M.

The gentle sounds of the "Flower Duet"…from the French opera Lakme'…played over the loudspeakers at the stroke of high noon, serving as a grim reminder that despite the unexpected violence of the Workshop insurrection, the game was still on. Those who survived the battle dreaded hearing the voice of Mrs. Emerson, who would no doubt find the death manifest she was to read more appealing than the last.

Assuming she wasn't high on drugs, of course.

"It's about time you little shit-stains got busy!" Cassandra's voice gingerly began. "Hoooo boy, do we have a really BIG list to go with your lunch hour! Boy number 5, Peter Ellis, Boy number 11, Issac Meyer…shame, really. I lost money on that hebe. Oh well…"

The survivors of the insurrection found that admission particularly disgusting as they continued to listen.

"…uh, Boy number 12, Kevin Mintner, Boy number 16, Hamid Ranganathan…damn. Nice kid, I'll miss him…Girl number 10, Anaya Mukherjee, Girl number 13, Molly…wait, Molly Pulaski? Hmm. Must have been a silent kill…Girl number 15, Gina Salazar, Girl number 16, Margaret Turmell, and Girl number 17, Deidre Vandervelde. Nine. Nine kills! But that's nothing compared to the seriously naughty thing you little bastards had the audacity to pull on our fine soldiers. Bad news, Emma…your classmates? Not only did they sucker your Dad into going out to the Workshop with a bunch of men, but they killed the poor bastard…and all of his men as well!"

Emma Curahee's eyes boggled in utter disbelief as she dropped to her knees. The news hit her like a freight train at full speed. It was as if time had literally stopped.

"The remaining handful of soldiers have a message for the rest of you. They see a weapon stolen from one of their comrades, they kill the student who holds it. I suspect that after the massacre at the now-defunct Workshop, they'll be changing the BR-USA rules accordingly next year. Seeing as how we're on day two of the program, BR-USA stipulations force me to add Danger Zones every hour from now on! Get your maps out, kiddies, 'cause here's the current rundown…"

As Cassandra read them off, the students…save for Manuel Ortiz, who had fallen asleep in an area of the island that remained a safe zone after the newest unsafe ones were read...disgustedly marked their laminated maps accordingly. As Krystal Riley was unconscious, Mike Zimmer generously marked the new locations on her map as well as his own.

"We'll close things out with a quote from Herbert Hoover. Yup…ol' Hoobert Heever, our thirty-first President. 'Older men declare war, but it is the youth that must fight and die'. So let's oblige the ol' heever in the time you sappy fuckers have left! Buh-bye!"

Valerie sighed out distressfully, closing her eyes. "Jesus…"

"New Danger Zones every hour…" The dread in Annabeth's voice was entirely evident.

Moriah crouched in front of Walter. "What're we gonna do, boss?"

It took Walter a moment to speak, but he finally shared his thoughts. "We've gotta gather up everyone, and I mean everyone. Even Shuya, even those who are actually playing this game. We've gotta end this shit. Somehow."

"And if they'd rather kill us?" Valerie wondered aloud.

Walter sighed, finding his own answer difficult to believe. "We kill 'em first. They draw, we shoot. It's just a matter of figuring out who can be trusted, and who shouldn't be…and I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks. Shuya is one of the good guys."

"Agreed." Moriah confirmed. "I'd watch out for Emma Curahee, though. After her Dad's death, I'm sure she'll be out for blood."

"Gloria Angel, too." Valerie added. "And Billy Han. I'm not trusting that abusive fuck."

"Manny Ortiz…" Walter thought of other possibilities. "…Natalie? Hmmm…"

"You remember what Natty said before she left the classroom?" Annabeth reminded. "She threatened Mrs. Emerson and the Captain. We should recruit her."

Walter nodded. "I just hope I don't have to put up with those weird kinks of hers." He then looked around curiously. "Where are the others that were with us at the Workshop?"

Moriah shrugged. "Scattered, I guess."

---

"Shit." Patrick paced about irritably as he and Herman stopped to rest after fleeing the carnage at the Workshop, and to mark the new Danger Zones on their maps. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

"Shhh! Not so loud!" Herman hissed.

Pat sighed out, trying to calm himself. After a moment, he shared his thoughts with his dutch friend. "Danger zones every fucking hour. We're gonna run out of room to operate at that rate, Herman!"

Herman shrugged. "Dat's de idea, I guess. Make de zone so small, ve have no choice but to go after each other."

"Yeah." Patrick conceded. "Probably gonna be down to one zone in the last hour before everyone's collars detonate tomorrow. We're all fucked, dude."

"Still…you gotta admit…" Herman grinned. "…ve musta looked pretty dangerous vhen ve cracked de necks of dose soldiers, eh?"

Patrick smiled back. "Yeah…that was pretty friggin' cool, man. With skills like ours, who needs weapons?"

"Still…" Herman went serious again. "…dose soldiers, dey may have had families."

"They took us away from ours, man. I've got a paraplegic sister at home who's probably worried sick about me." Pat stepped over to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. "If we didn't kill those soldiers, they would have shot us dead. We were all forced into this, Herman. You think we would have done something like that if we didn't have bombs around our necks? I'm certainly not gonna keep killing soldiers and innocent people if we can find a way to get off of this island before tomorrow's zero hour."

Herman shook his head. "Neither vould I." His eyes went back to his map, studying it very carefully as he turned away from Pat. "Ve should figure out a vay to get back to de others."

The young dutchman saw that the Danger Zones which now littered the island would make a rendezevous point tough to establish at this point, especially with new zones added every hour. Still…Herman maintained his optimism, which was something he had developed since the more pessimistic and paranoid student Herman Krieger used to be met a generally likeable young man named Patrick Dane during his Freshman year.

Under the circumstances, however, Herman figured that they would need to play it by eye and ear if they were going to link back up with the others. He slowly turned back to Pat, who lingered behind him. "It looks like ve gonna have to…"

Patrick Dane had suddenly disappeared. Herman initially figured that his good friend saw something that attracted the talented young Quarterback's attention.

But the dutchman's eyes then looked down…

…and found Patrick Dane lying upon the ground. His eyes boggled as he clutched at his neck. It was not until now that he began making horrible noises from the deep gash that had been inflicted upon his throat, just above the collar.

Horrified, Herman dropped down to the ground next to him, applying pressure on his neck, but blood began spilling and gargling out of his mouth now.

"Mein gott…Patrick…no! Stay vith me!" Herman pulled off his tank-top undershirt and tore off a long piece of fabric, hoping to tie it around his neck and stop the bleeding…

…but after a couple of convulsions, Patrick Dane suddenly went limp, his eyes locked open in an expression of horror. His bloody mouth remained agape.

"Patrick…" He shook his dead friend, who was not at all responsive. "…PATRICK!"

He could hardly believe that his best friend…his partner on the Football field…his devoted tutor, who had helped him so selflessly through so many homework assignments…was gone, and all because he had turned his attention away from him for a long and studious moment. It was something else that Pat had taught him during their time together. Take your time figuring out something difficult. He had said during a test studying period. Don't rush things.

Instead of lapsing into tears, however, Herman took a closer look at the throat wound. Who did he know who had any kind of a bladed weapon…

Manuel.

Manuel Ortiz.

He had the lenses of his binoculars fashioned into a weapon. A cutting weapon. If he had done this at Gina Salazar's request…

A scary look was now on the dutchman's face as he rose up from Patrick Dane's body. It was clear that Herman would not mourn his best friend's death until he found the person that he now knew was responsible for his demise…

…and quite literally rip him apart with his bare hands.

Boy #3 Dane – dead
20 to go

---

Mike Zimmer held the still-unconscious Krystal Riley by her shoulders, while Vladis Jellinek had a good grip on the girl's ankles as they made their way through the safe zones. Taking point during their progress was Malcolm Derricks, who had acquired two weapons in the wake of the Workshop insurrection.

Slung across his back was an MP5, and he had collected a pair of pistols.

Vladis was in a knot of worry upon seeing the stolen weapon on Malcolm's back during their progress. "Aren't you worried about the threat that…"

"Hell, no." Malcolm immediately shot back, keeping his eyes on the path ahead of him. "Motherfuckers tried to kill us. They want my new guns? They got to pry it from my cold dead fingers."

They eventually found a group of wooden benches and tables, which Malcolm consulted the map about. He saw that they had arrived at the zone on the map that was designated the 'Picnic Area'.

Malcolm irritably gestured to one of the wooden, red-painted tabletops. "Put her there."

Mike advised Vladis to settle her on the indicated table with care. Once she was across the table, a very worried-looking Mike began stroking tenderly at her hair. "There. Just relax." He quietly assured. "You're safe now."

Malcolm then placed one of the pistols he had collected into one of Vlad's free hands as he relaxed. "That's for you." The brown-skinned student confirmed.

Vladis, noticing that Malcolm still had a spare gun tucked into the waist area of his pants, gestured to Mike as he continued to tend to Krystal. "What about him? Doesn't he get one?"

Malcolm shook his head. "He's got that…Frisbee-blade thing."

"Which will not help him if he is being shot at." Vladis noted.

Apparently, Malcolm was ignoring this rationale. Something about the current situation was corrupting the bespectacled student's judgment, and Vlad was at a loss to figure out what it was.

Still…Malcolm seemed to be thinking on the disparity.

Mike, however, seemed to be considering the same logic. "Mal…can I have that gun? Please?"

"Man, you've got a weapon!" Malcolm irritably replied. "Anyone…anyone shoots at you, you can throw that damn thing!"

"What if I lose it? What if I miss?" Mike whined. "Come on…you've got two pistols now. You can spare one. I need a backup weapon!"

Malcolm sighed out heavily, closing his eyes in his indecision. His eyes then went to the unconscious girl who just happened to be the cause of his conundrum.

Malcolm pulled out the second gun and held it up in a non-threatening manner. "I'll give you this on one condition. Just one."

Mike frowned in his confusion. "Wh-what condition?" Vladis also looked confused.

But then, Malcolm gestured to Krystal. "We leave her here. I don't give a fuck what happens to her. I hate that bitch."

Mike was vividly aghast over this suggestion. "What? No fucking way! I love that girl! What the hell do you have against her? I've never seen her be…"

"She is a goddamn racist, man!" Malcolm angrily responded. "She's probably one of the only white girls in the whole damn school who still calls us niggers! I ain't liftin' a finger to protect that…that bleach-blond bimbo bitch!"

Mike's eyes were wide now, even though he did indeed hear her use words like that to describe minorities more often than not. He figured that if she spent time with him, he might convince her to refer to them in a less-inflammatory fashion.

"You…you're so full of shit!" Mike yelled.

"How do you know she ain't usin' you, man?" Malcolm then challenged. "You think if she had the gun and you didn't have a weapon on you, she'd protect you? She doesn't even give you the time of day at school because you just like me! She don't date guys like us, man! She probably thinks we're dorks! You, me, Vlad…you think she'd really go out with any of us?"

"I'm not leaving her!" Mike yelled.

"Well, then I guess you're on your own then, aren't you?" Malcolm shot back.

"No, no! Stop!" Vladis stepped over to Malcolm, hoping to get through to him. "Please, this is what they want! Stop fighting and give Mike that gun!"

"He ain't gettin' shit from me!" Malcolm growled, his anger clearly rising. "I'm not draggin' around no racist! In fact…" The bespectacled student suddenly pointed the gun in his hand right at Krystal's head, walking up to her. "…I think we should let some air outta this dumb bitch's head right now."

Mike held up his sharpened pot lid up threateningly, stepping in front of Krystal protectively. "NO! Don't you fuckin' dare! I will cut you!"

"Oh really?" Malcolm challenged, now raising the gun up to Mike's head. "You cut me, I shoot you in the head. Who do you think will die faster, asshole?"

Vladis, however, trained his own gun on Malcolm's head. "Do not make me do this, Malcolm. Put the gun down. We do not have to be this way."

"Bullshit. This is the game, man." Malcolm grimly reminded.

"Which we should be fighting against!" Vladis noted.

"Uh-huh. Last time we tried that, we lost five of us." Malcolm countered.

"That is no reason to give up!" Vladis pleaded.

"Don't make me cut you…" Mike looked much more grim now. "…don't make me cut you…"

Malcolm turned his eyes to Vladis. "She probably thinks you're a commie, man!"

"Listen to yourself! You are no different from those who really are playing the game!" Vladis chided. "I do not care what I am called! It is just words! You are going to kill this girl because of words?"

Malcolm knew that if Mike had Vladis effectively on his side, and the arguably sensible russian student had a gun, he would not survive even if Mal had pulled the trigger on Mike. Vlad would fire, and Malcolm would be gone.

Ironclad in his conviction, Malcolm's mind settled on a different approach. There was no way either one of his 'friends' would let this go. Not by a long shot.

Nevertheless, he lowered his gun very slowly.

"Okay." Malcolm assured. "Yeah…you're right. Just words." He chuckled a bit. "Pretty damn silly."

Vladis looked relieved now as he, too, lowered his stolen weapon. "Isn't it? They call me russkie, I do not care. Commie? Who gives a shit? I know I am not one, and that is all that matters."

Malcolm nodded as he stowed his gun away. "Cool." His eyes turned to Mike, who still had his pot lid up defensively. "Hey…it's all good, man. Chill?" He held up a hand apologetically, hoping for a handshake.

Although Mike was a bundle of frayed nerves, he figured Malcolm's gesture was genuine. "Y-yeah. Chill." He held out his own hand, keeping the pot lid gripped in the other. Malcolm grasped Mike's hand as Vladis stepped in close to the both of them…

…and then, Malcolm pulled the unsuspecting student in, drawing his icepick and stabbing Mike Zimmer right in his neck. He then angrily buried the pick, several times, into Mike's chest.

In the rage of the moment, despite the pain and the feel of his own warm blood, Mike quickly went into one of his pockets and pulled out the pepper spray he had gotten from Shuya. Misting it right into Malcolm's face, the bespectacled student staggered back, his irritated eyes watering up quickly. Dropping the spray, Mike then summoned up all the rage and hate he had built up and swung the pot lid, in a wide arc, out toward Malcolm's head…

…and the sharpened pot lid cleaved through a chunk of the bespectacled student's neck!

Mike's wide, wild, and angry arc spun the dying student down to the ground, and Malcolm's body dropped next to him. Blood gushed from Malcolm's gargling neck, while Mike's fatal neck injury spilled his own blood as profusely as his chest wounds, one of which was a deep and direct stab to the lovestruck student's heart.

Vladis also stumbled back, clutching his neck. Mike, turning his gaze to his Russian friend, stared in horror.

His wide, killing arc had cut through Vlad's neck as well, and he, too, was badly bleeding from it.

Vladis, however, staggered away, fearful of his own impending death. His hands fumbled for his map, wondering how near the infirmary was from their current position.

Despite the fact that a Danger Zone was in the straight-line path towards his chosen destination, Vladis staggered in that direction as Malcolm and Mike both went limp within the pools of their own blood.

"Infirmary…" he kept muttering as he staggered, blood spilling out of his mouth. "…infirmary…"

Still spilling blood, Vladis dropped to his knees just as he neared the Danger Zone, and then his upper body fell forward.

He then waited for the unavoidable death…the very thing he had feared moments ago…to take him.

Five minutes later, the eyes of Krystal Riley fluttered open. When she saw the bodies of Malcolm Derricks and Mike Zimmer, however, she wished they had stayed closed.

Her eyes boggled in horror upon seeing Mike Zimmer in particular. Coming off the desk, she rushed to the side of his now lifeless body, and tried to shake him back to life.

But Mike was gone. Mike Zimmer, a boy she genuinely liked, even though they walked separate paths of life…him an academic path, hers that of a cheerleader…had been claimed by this horrible game, and there was no way to bring him back.

"Come back…" She spoke through her sobs. "…Mike…come back, please…"

Her head then dropped on his bloody chest as she lost herself to her mournful sobbing.

Boy #4 Derricks – dead
Boy #8 Jellinek – dead
Boy #20 Zimmer - dead

17 to go

---

Not long after finishing her daily report, Cassandra Emerson had all the remaining soldiers…even those manning the consoles in the monitoring room…gather in her classroom on the second floor. She made sure that her gun could be seen as she spoke her words.

"I just want to confirm what you're probably all thinking." Cassandra began. "As per the pre-ordained rules of the BR-USA program, I'm assuming command of your unit for as long as the program continues. No one does anything from now on without getting the okay from me. Are we clear?"

The soldiers were silent, fixing hard and unpleasant stares upon the educator.

"Hey…look, kids. I was never responsible for what happened to your Captain." Cassandra reasoned. "I'm reminding you that this is procedure. You need a boss in the wake of your old boss dying, and I'm the proverbial 'it'."

"You ever been in a hot zone?" One of the soldiers asked.

Cassandra shrugged, smiling flippantly. "I'm in one now, aren't I?"

Another soldier skeptically, and irritably, spoke out. "Where the fuck does it say that we gotta have a civvie in charge of U.S. Army soldiers?"

The educator raised a written page that was within the mess of them on the teacher desk. "It's all on paragraph 13. Feel free to go over it after the meeting's done."

It was then that another of the men…Devane…took a step forward towards the woman before speaking. "You gonna lay off that drug we know you're snorting? I'm not following a coke-head."

The heads of several soldiers nodded in full agreement of his words.

Cassandra, however, walked right up to Devane's face, clearly displeased with the request. "Listen, leatherneck. You were put together and assigned here by your superiors. You're not out in Afghanistan, or some other disenfranchised area of the world that the U.S. government wants to fuck around with. You're here until the game's over, and you will answer to my authority from now on, get it?"

Devane responded with a glare that would melt an entire glacier of ice if it could. Not a word emerged from his lips.

"I might also remind you that for big-shot G.I. Joes, you've been pretty fucking pathetic." Cassandra added, further exacerbating the mood of the uniformed servicemen. "You all got owned…buttfucked…by a handful of kids. If that isn't a leatherneck's reality check from Hell, I quite frankly don't know what is."

"We oughta throw your sorry ass out there, bitch!" Another soldier angrily called out, earning cries of agreement from the other men.

A loud beeping, however, from the floor below them attracted the group's attention. Even Cassandra looked curious.

One of the soldiers assigned to the console, however, hurried to the classroom's exit. "Oh, shit…!"

The entire group now surged down the stairs towards the monitoring room. Their eyes first fell upon the main Map, which was usually peppered with the Danger Zones that had been called and programmed in. An onscreen clock above the display would count down the hours, the minutes, and the seconds in which the game had lasted thus far.

The seconds, however, were frozen.

In the next moment, a blue screen…which in computer parlance was commonly referred to as a "Blue Screen Of Death", indicative of a DOS-based computer operating system error…suddenly replaced the Map display!

"What the fuck…?" The soldier at the console fiddled with controls, but the screen did not change. The other screens surrounding the main Map screen also looked frozen, indicative of a catastrophic computer crash.

Even Cassandra was aghast now!

"Wait a minute…" one of the console-assigned men took a closer look at the blue screen writings. "…I see misspelled words here. See the words 'shut down'? It's not spelled 'shtu'."

One of the other solders nodded. "Nor is the word 'Windows' spelled 'W-N-I-D-W-O-S'. You'd think even Bill Gates wouldn't make THAT glaring of a typo."

"Hackers." Devane guessed aloud.

"Bullshit." Cassandra angrily retorted. "All of their personal packs were checked for laptops, and there isn't a single working computer on the whole damn island! The BR Committee saw to that after the Shiroiwa program!"

"We must have been hacked from outside of the island." Another console man surmised aloud. "Anti-Grant protesters with computer skills."

"Probably working alongside moles in the committee." Another console attendant added.

Devane then stepped in front of Cassandra, who was rubbing her eyes in irritation in the tense moment of silence that followed. "So what's your call, 'boss'?"

Cassandra sighed out after another quiet moment. "We still have the gunboats to keep people on the island from escaping, and they don't know what's happened here. I want this school locked down. No one gets in or out. Any students charge in, you waste them. If we're lucky, everyone that's still alive so far is gonna go after each other. Last I saw, there are only eighteen of them left, including the ones who really are playing the game." She turned to one of the solders serving as console attendants. "So there are no Danger Zones left?"

The attendant shook his head. "All gone. I don't think you can kill them with that remote of yours, either."

"Fuuuuuck." Cassandra hung her head back in frustration. She then rubbed at her head, trying to think of anything remotely resembling a solution. She then remembered that most computer problems were largely resolved through a system restart.

Even if the programs were hacked, she thought to herself, it was a start in the recovery effort.

Cassandra turned to one of the console attendants. "Shut down the system, wait 20 seconds, then restart it. If you get the system back, you're gonna go to work on it and see about fixing that hack."

"You realize that we'll lose everything in that time." Devane advised. "Not just Danger Zones, but communications. No more announcements, and we'll have no way of knowing who's dead or alive."

"Yes, I am aware of all that." Cassandra shot back. "Do you have, like, a Satellite uplink or something? Some way to communicate with mainland America?"

Devane nodded. "Affirmative. Are we sending a message out?"

Cassandra looked back at Devane incredulously. "What does 'D-U-H' spell, soldier?"

Although this earned her a dirty look from Devane, he quickly stepped away to arrange for the message to be sent to their superiors.

---

1450N: I DID it! I can't believe I fuckin did it!

M1M00R4: You and me both. I just scored a massive hit on their systems. All of those
Danger Zones should be dead now. They're probably pissing their pants as we
speak. What did you do?

1450N: Well…um…I didn't kill a Danger Zone. I just decided to cut the signal on
one of the students. I didn't know who, of course, but I hope it was Trudi.

M1M00R4: And it worked?

1450N: No errors came back, so…yeah!

M1M00R4: So they obviously thought that one of the students was killed. Pat yourself
on the back. You may have saved that person's life.

1450N: Yeah, but…I saw a few numbers disappear as I was working.

M1M00R4: Yeah. I saw that too. Must be a bloodbath over there. BUT…I have good
news. I was able to find out which number is your sister.

1450N: Really? Which one?

M1M00R4: Pink number 8.

1450N: Hang on a sec.

1450N: Oh thank fucking god. She's still there.

M1M00R4: Hanging out in one area with two girls named Natalie Cross and Nadia Wolinski.
Looks like Blue number one, Walter Abilene, is coming up on them. Moving
pretty slow, too. Maybe he's wounded.

1450N: I've gotta clear her signal. I mean, like, right now.

M1M00R4: Be my guest…but just remember. Every tamper is a chance that you could be
traced. If you ask me, you should wait before you fuck with the system again,
or you could be in very real danger.

1450N: Even if I do little things?

M1M00R4: Doesn't matter. Any kind of signal is a potential trace, which is why you may not
hear from me again for a while after we're done chatting.

1450N: How long?

M1M00R4: For a hack like I just did? Think months. Even years. You should disappear for a
few months, too. Come to Japan, if you like. Maybe we can meet someplace and
talk over sushi. ;)

M1M00R4: 1450N? You still there?

M1M00R4: Hello?

M1M00R4: Hey. It's been an hour now. You still there?

M1M00R4: Back from the bathroom, maybe?

---

As the group of black-garbed soldiers held the struggling and very frightened Jason Malone's arms to the sides, and pulled his head back, Sgt. Gregory Oakland stepped behind him as the Sergeant's fellow soldiers continued to dismantle and destroy Jason's computer system, and pulled a silenced pistol out. He had his men put a cloth gag in the hacker's mouth, as well.

"It's nothing personal, kid." Oakland calmly assured as he positioned the long, black barrel of the silencer against the back of the young civilian hacker's head. "I'm just following orders here."

The Sergeant then squeezed the trigger.

Leaving the dead hacker beneath a growing pool of blood in his own room, Sgt. Oakland stepped back outside the room and headed downstairs. Going through the Living Room, he stepped over the body of Jason's mother, who was similarly executed.

Going back into the house's kitchen, he saw that the coffee maker had completed pouring fresh coffee into the pot. Grabbing a mug from the closet above, he poured himself a fresh cup, seeing as how he had accomplished the black ops mission that had been authorized by Anderson Grant himself.

Just as Grant had authorized his country's part in the joint U.S.-Japan bombing of the Wild Seven island fortress upon becoming the President of the United States.

---

"Madre de dios…" Manuel kept repeating as he stared down at the blood on his hands. Blood that once belonged to Patrick Dane. "…madre de dios…"

Manuel Ortiz remained a shivering, nervous wreck after having sliced open the throat of the school's star Quarterback. He had been wandering around the safe areas of the map hoping to find a trace of Gina Salazar. He even checked the places where he had encountered her last.

She was nowhere to be found.

He was looking forward to her acceptance of what he did, seeing as how he had to betray his mother's promise in order to do so. He couldn't figure out whether he should be proud of himself, or ashamed. He continued to struggle with the rationale of what he did as well. Some logic that went into the killing stroke, which Manuel initially believed would spectacularly fail, and get himself killed instead.

A part of him wished that he had failed as he continued to crouch, and shiver. Was Gina really worth what he had done?

During her time with Alejandro Espina, he remembered a time when Alejandro had chosen to bully Manuel after school. As with all those other times, Gina was there to watch him humiliate the geekish student.

He remembered asking her flat out. Why are you always bothering me? What did I do to you?

Gina would snort in derision before giving the answer he gave her every time he asked. Because you weak, marica. You always so fuckin' weak.

Marica. The Spanish word for sissy. She mercilessly taunted him with this word at every opportunity.

And yet, he still seemed to carry a torch for this girl. Even when he hated her, there was still that side of Manuel who found Gina desirable. He figured there would come a time when Alejandro would be gone, Gina would be alone, and he would throw himself at her in the hopes that she would accept him.

It was no doubt a stroke of cruel fate that the opportunity had finally arrived, but in the form of the very first BR-USA program.

As he struggled with his guilt, his peripheral vision caught sight of a woman with short, dark hair. In her hands was an Uzi Submachine Gun. On her face was an ice cold expression.

Emma Curahee…who now had a crude cloth headband wrapped around her head, to bandage and conceal her graze wound…was headed in his direction.

It was clear that Manuel's only option was to get away, but he made so much noise in doing so that he was certain that Emma was attracted by the noise. The sound of a burst of bullets punching upon the soil behind him was clear evidence that she was now coming after him.

His movements were frantic as he scrambled to get some distance, and possibly shake off the vengeful, militant girl chasing him. In his desperation, he dashed towards what looked like a simple residence, which he remembered was one of a handful he saw on the map the last time he referenced it. He just hoped that it wasn't a Danger Zone. He had no time to check. This was his only real option.

Fortunately, he had a bit of distance on Emma, and his collar did not begin beeping as he collided wildly with the single-level residence's entrance door. Pulling it open, he dived into the empty space within, and looked for a place to hide under.

His best bet was to hide beneath one of the side windows, and wait. As he did, he pulled out his survival map and looked over the marked residences. Three of them were within Danger Zones, including the one that had been added by Mrs. Emerson.

Manuel counted out the total number of residences on the map. There were a total of five. One of these Danger Zone residences was in the vicinity of the Gymnasium, which would be to the southeast of the residence. His curiosity piqued, he waited a few minutes more. He had to be sure that there was no one outside. He needed to be sure that Emma was not still stalking him.

When he confirmed that there was nothing but silence, he crawled over to the door and slowly got to his feet. Quietly opening the door, he stepped out of the residence and headed southeast.

Sure enough, Manuel came upon a large building with wide open entrances on its north and south sides, and a broken window. Coming closer to this building, he confirmed that the interior was indeed a Gymnasium, given the glossy wooden floor, and the gymnastics fixtures within.

Checking back on his map in accordance with his curiosity, he saw that he had marked the Gym in accordance with the confusion of Mrs. Emerson's drugged-out rant. He had marked 'DZ?' over the Gymnasium area of his map.

If it was a DZ, however, his collar would be beeping.

And for that matter, his collar should have been beeping when he went into the residence he had briefly invaded.

Did the collars die? Did something happen at the island's school complex?

He had to find Gina. She had to know about this. He headed for the southern entrance…

…but a large, bulky, bare-chested and musclebound young man with an entirely grim and dark expression stepped over from outside to confront Manuel. A man he immediately recognized, and after his first real kill, feared.

It was Herman Krieger.

From the look in his eyes, this was no longer the gentle giant he had always known Herman to be. This look was far more fearsome.

Manuel, stopping in his tracks, froze where he stood for a long moment. When Herman began taking a couple of steps toward him, Manny stepped backward for every such advance.

He tried to think of something to say to Herman. Some manner of excuse to justify what he did. He couldn't. Herman's appearance, in any case, seemed to indicate that words just weren't an option.

"You killed him." Herman intoned. "I know you did, you bastard."

Any response Manuel might have attempted caught in his throat. In that moment, he could practically see his mother's face as well as Herman's glaring murderously upon him.

Manuel turned around and wildly took off for the gym's northern entrance. His only real option was to try and outrun a trained Football athlete. He knew it was futile to do so, but unless another option manifested in his mad retreat, such as Herman being diverted by someone actively playing the game rather than resisting it, he could only run.

Even if he tripped and fell, and he had gotten some distance on Herman, he needed to get up and keep running.

"ARE YOU HAPPY?" Herman hollered as he ran. "ARE YOU HAPPY TO HAVE KILLED A GOOD MAN FOR A GIRL?"

Manuel didn't answer. He just kept running. It was as if he had forgotten how to speak. As if he had consciously opted to become a mute. All he could do was run.

If he stumbled or stopped for less than a second, he knew he would die. He was even willing to race off the edge of a cliff and drop to his death if it meant getting away from Herman Krieger.

It was inevitable that the big man's hands would painfully grasp Manuel's arms, and a wave of terror took hold of the weaker and exhausted man as he felt his body slam against the ground beneath him, having been literally thrown down like a rag doll by the much stronger man.

He knew something had broke in his body with the hard impact. Pain set in quickly as his body was turned to face Herman, who glared down upon Manuel murderously. The dutchman had settled his body weight upon Patrick Dane's killer, and his eyes burned hatefully upon the young student beneath him.

One of Herman's large hands grabbed a handful of Manuel's hair as he spoke right into his face. "Don't you know dat da girl you killed for is DEAD? Gina vas KILLED, ASSHOLE! VOULD YOU HAVE KILLED PATRICK IF YOU KNEW DAT?"

Past the moment of complete disbelief that hit Manuel upon hearing this news, it occurred to him that he had slept through the noon report, and he did indeed miss the death manifest that came with it.

He could hardly believe Gina was dead.

Now all Manny could do was stare back at Herman, his expression of disbelief practically frozen in place.

Herman's hands were at Manuel's throat now as he began to squeeze with all of his might.

"I kill you…" Herman growled, his face now a mask of rage. "…I KILL YOU!"

The dutchman kept repeating the same three words as he quite literally began to break Manuel Ortiz as much as he possibly could. His head was smashed with a rock Herman had grabbed. Manny's joints were wrenched and broken. Herman stamped down as hard as he could upon the dying student. A puddle of blood grew beneath Patrick Dane's murderer as he continued to viciously beat Manuel to death.

Even past the moment of Manuel's life mercifully leaving his body, Herman kept pounding away on him.

When Herman's rage was finally satisfied, his blood-soaked body rose up as he continued to stare down at the mass of broken flesh and blood that was once Manuel Ortiz. As Herman felt that his sense of justice had been served, he finally began to calm down.

His peripheral vision, however, caught sight of an observer to his right, and he quickly turned to face this person, who was aiming a gun at him.

Herman gestured to the bloody human mess his rage had inflicted. "He…he killed my best friend. I had to…had to do it."

"Don't worry, Herman." The blond girl's tone was entirely sympathetic. "God will forgive you."

Gloria Angel then fired eight shots into the stronger man's body and watched him drop down into the human mess he had created moments ago.

A wave of nausea took hold of Angel as her gaze lingered on the bloody mess beneath Herman's body, and she quickly turned and hurried away as her mouth filled with vomit.

Boy #10 – Achievement Unlocked!
"Look, Ma! No guns!"
Achieve a kill without using
any weapons

Boy #10 Krieger – dead
Boy #13 Ortiz – dead

15 to go

---

BR-RELATED PROTESTS ERUPT OUTSIDE MIDDLE SCHOOLS

"Students of Middle School 202 in Howard Beach, Queens, as well as Middle Schools all over the five boroughs, are out in force in front of their school buildings in loud protest for the class full of graduating students that went missing yesterday as they were on their way to a senior class trip. A representative for the protesters in front of Robert H. Goddard Middle School vowed that they would remain in front of their school, refusing all classes until a controversial educational reform act created in Japan in the year 2000 that was rumored to have received congressional consideration here in the United States is repealed. The Grant Administration's Press Secretary, however, maintains that the infamous 'BR Act' is not and was never under any consideration at all."

PRESS SECRETARY ANNE B. WHIRRY: For the umpteenth time, the Grant Administration whole-heartedly echoes the sentiment of the majority of the american people that our nation is far too civilized to bring a barbaric and inhuman reform act from another country into any serious consideration. The Justice Department is working around the clock to see to it that the missing schoolchildren are found and brought home safely to their families.

"The Queens borough Senate representative, however, paints a much darker picture on the veracity of the Grant Administration's official statement."

QUEENS BOROUGH SENATOR ABRAHAM MEYER: This was unquestionably a clear response to that protest which occurred outside of the Department of Education. They meant to kill those 56 students to make an example of them! There was no hesitation! Anderson U.S. Grant personally demanded that the BR Act be implemented in this country. I actually heard him say those words! But that's obviously gonna be the part that he will continue to leave out of his public statements, and all the callous and headstrong bullies that make up his entire administration will unsurprisingly echo, and have the audacity to defend, his outrageous and unwise denials.

"No ultimatum, nor any word of a related response, has been issued at this time in answer to the protests, which are ongoing."

---

Cassandra Emerson grimly observed the images playing on the flatscreen TV that had been installed in the Teachers Lounge near the first floor monitoring room. She ate sushi as she watched Senator Meyer…Issac's father…publicly counter the Grant Administration's fabrications.

She shook her head shamefully as the news program moved on to yet another BR Act-related story, this time highlighting an interview from the Dane family.

The presence of one of the console attendants, however, diverted her attention.

"Okay…I have good news and bad news," He began. "and most of it is bad."

Cassandra sighed. "Fine. Bad news first."

"Whoever these hackers are did a pretty good job of fucking our computers over." The attendant reported. "The program that maintains the signal for multiple Danger Zones has an overwhelming amount of viral code in it. By the time we were done repairing the program, the game would be over because it's gonna take us longer than two days. It can be fixed, but…"

"Yeah, yeah." Cassandra interjected. "Let's hear the good news."

"We were able to fix a couple of the computerized elements." The attendant continued. "The map display is back up, and we can continue monitoring the onscreen numbers. Pulse scans are also active, so we can keep monitoring any kills that happen. The last bit is something we'll need you to help us with. We can establish one Danger Zone for the time we have left. Did you want this building to be that Danger Zone?"

After a moment of thought, Cassandra nodded. "Yeah. What about communication? Are the island's loudspeakers still working?"

The attendant shook his head. "Screwed. White noise would block the signal if you tried. We still have that secure uplink to get us all off the island, though."

Cassandra slowly nodded again. "Swell." She flatly replied. "Is that it?"

It took a long moment for the lingering attendant to reply, but he felt he needed to shut the door to the Lounge before speaking as Cassandra curiously turned to him.

When he turned back to the educator, he had a bit of a disgusted look on his face. "As I'm sure you know, you didn't make a lot of new friends with that 'I'm assuming command' speech you gave. You didn't give any consideration to the men we lost in that insurrection at the Workshop."

Cassandra smirked. "Not surprised. Is there a point to this?"

"The six men stationed at Biv Post One are out there. Now." The uniformed attendant revealed. "They deserted their post. They want payback for the death of Captain Curahee. They're gonna kill the first student they find."

The female educator giggled over this notion. "Does that include Georgie's daughter? She's still out there, isn't she?"

The attendant smirked now. "She's the obvious exception. They also asked me to tell you that if you report their desertion, they'll share your cocaine indulgences with the DEA when we're done here."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Her reply was laced with sarcasm. "Be still, my beating heart. Anything else? If not, fuck off back to your post."

With a look of disgust, the attendant quietly turned away and returned to the monitoring room.

In the privacy of her thoughts, as yet another BR-related story played on the news, Cassandra began to consider going into her backup supply of 'candy'.

---

Issac humbly bowed his head. "Happy to be of service, Mister Ellis." He then looked out to where he had spotted Manuel Ortiz. "For as long as you don't try to shoot me in the back, of course."

Issac Meyer then placed one arm around Margaret Turmell, and gestured for Violet Noda to follow with his other hand. The two ladies flanked him as they turned away from the guard post. Peter Ellis took Violet's place at the post.

A thought occurred to Violet as the trio moved. "Issac…if you don't mind, I'd like to go over the blueprint for that rifle and go find the missing pieces for it."

Issac angled his head, amusedly, to the Japanese girl. "Are you nurturing aspirations to become a battle-maid, Miss Noda?"

"Better in our hands than someone like Gloria Angel." Violet reasoned.

Issac nodded. "Good point. Be careful."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Violet began to step away…but she stopped and turned around, watching Issac and Margaret from a short distance away. She was still close enough to hear them as they turned to each other.

"Judging by the bullet hole in your back of your shirt, I'd say you had quite a thrill ride so far, Miss Turmell." Issac observed. "Were you scared at all?"

Margaret lowered her head, looking embarrassed. "Well…kinda…"

"You shouldn't be ashamed, Miss Turmell." Issac tenderly advised. "It's no bad thing to be scared. I think under the circumstances, you'd be crazy if you weren't."

"I'm just…glad you're alright." She flashed her coquettish, braces-lined grin, blushing sweetly as she spoke. "Mister Meyer."

Issac raised an eyebrow, smiling back. "Touche'."

After a moment, Margaret quickly angled her head forward to give Issac a quick kiss on his lips.

Issac blinked in surprise, his eyebrows raised. "I stand corrected. You're not scared at all, are you?"

Margaret shrugged sweetly, still grinning. "Maaaay-be."

"Does this mean I have to respond in kind, Miss Turmell?"

"Ummm…" The pudgy girl looked nervous now. "…well…I wouldn't mind, if…you did…"

Still smiling, Issac pressed his lips to Margaret's. She closed her eyes, and then wrapped her arms around the bespectacled young man. Violet heard Margaret emit a quiet, appreciative moan.

Issac then slowly pulled away from her lips, still smiling. "If we really can get off this island," He quietly remarked. "we should start doing that more often."

Margaret giggled impishly. "I'd like that…Mister Meyer." She then stepped away bashfully, moving to where a smiling Violet was watching. "He kissed me…" she excitedly hissed, practically hopping in place. "…he really kissed me!"

"He's a good man, Margaret." Violet pleasantly replied.

"Oh! Mister Meyer! There's something I forgot to tell you…" Margaret hurried back over to Issac. "…I found something last night when I went to find a place to sleep." She pulled out her map and presented it to the curious jewish student. "I marked it. It's right here, by the shore. I was sleeping there last night. I found a safe there!"

"A safe?" Issac was now quite curious. "As in…a security box? With a combination lock?"

"Yes!" Margaret gingerly confirmed. "I couldn't open it, though. I didn't know the combination…but it looked like something is in that safe. It looks, like, new."

Issac nodded. He then turned his head to Violet. "See if you can find that blueprint for the rifle."

It did not take long for Violet to locate the illustrated paper. Looking it over, she noticed a series of numbers that looked like a combination sequence on the back of the blueprint. When she returned to Issac and Margaret, she pointed to the possible combination sequence she discovered.

Issac nodded once again. "Looks like you have something else to look into during your scavenger hunt, Miss Noda."

---

Having followed her own laminated map, Violet Noda located the area where the safe was located. At one point, she needed to avoid being noticed by Gloria Angel as the pious blond assassin continued to scour the island terrain looking for her next target. She initially thought that Gloria would be an easy kill, but she saw that the blond student was now carrying a pistol. Violet ultimately decided against the notion of an impromptu shootout, opting instead to avoid being noticed by Gloria.

A few minutes later, she heard the carnage at the now distant Workshop, stopping a moment out of concern for her friends. She hoped they were all okay.

During her search for other rifle components, she had discovered a thick black barrel near the body of Alejandro Espina. Curiously slipping it over the barrel of the MAC-10, she discovered that the piece was a perfect fit, as if it were meant to be a legitimate attachment for her weapon.

She had also found a piece of the Assault Rifle in Espina's nearby bag, as well.

Making her way along the staircases of the locale to reach the noted safe, she began working the dial, hearing a rhythm of gentle clicks as it turned and settled at the numbers noted on the blueprint.

Once Violet had spun the dial to the last number, she pulled the safe's lever, and the small, thick metal door swung open.

Inside the bright metal interior were two rows of three ammunition magazines, which according to the blueprint were indeed the ammo clips for the AR-15!

Closing the door of the now empty safe, she decided to assess the parts she had collected thus far. She already had the components offered by the team at the Workshop in her Survival Pack, and after having found the piece in Espina's bag, there was still one component that Violet needed to locate.

Stepping out of the dark, isolated area where the safe was located to go back into the afternoon light, however, a glint suddenly flashed in her right eye. Her blood ran cold in that moment as her eyes went wide with shock…

…and when the sound of a Machine Pistol discharging filled the air, Violet dashed for a hardpoint, gripping her MAC-10.

"IT'S THAT FUCKING BUTCHER JAP!" She heard a man cry out. "HE WASTED COLLINS!"

Violet's senses were now primed from the apparent intervention. Judging by what she had heard about the 'butcher jap', she figured Shuya was in the area.

The Japanese girl stayed low as she moved in the direction of the voice she heard. Check your corners. She remembered her Uncle…a retired soldier…telling her when he taught her a few things about how to survive in a combat zone when she was younger. Check your zones.

Her eyes scanned in almost every direction as she moved. The area was very quiet.

She eventually came upon the soldier that had been killed by the gunfire she heard. She didn't let the sight of his dead body mess with her head, however. She thought about collecting his weapons, but that would potentially make her a stationary target as she acquired the guns.

She already had a gun anyway.

The careful, quiet, and very tense maneuvering of Violet and the squad of black-garbed soldiers continued until Violet was able to crawl up onto a large, half-buried rock, and spot two soldiers clutching their MP5s. They were both facing away from Violet as they continued to stalk for their prey.

With the bright sun at her back, Violet rose up to her feet and brought up her weapon…

…while the disturbance of the sunlight at their backs compelled both soldiers to leap, and turn to face whoever was behind them.

But Violet's MAC-10 was already firing a stream of bullets in their direction. She waved the barrel left and right, keeping the trigger pulled.

The shots fatally stitched up both soldiers before they could fire back. Once she knew they had been dropped, she hurried back down the rock as a hail of bullets zinged upon it. Back down on the ground, she was back in a crouch as the other soldiers from Bivouac Post #1 hurried over to the rock.

"SHIT!" She heard one of them cry out as she attempted to reposition herself.

The sound of a grenade clattering nearby had Violet rushing…and leaping…out of the thunderous blast radius that followed. Rolling around, she caught sight of a soldier dashing for another hardpoint. Violet squeezed off a few rounds in this soldier's direction, but the shots went wild.

The Japanese girl hurried away as shots fired in her direction, two of the lethal round whizzing very close to her head as she moved. She dived behind a tree.

A hail of bullets crashed upon the tree and around the ground on both sides of the tree, kicking up bits and pieces of soil as she remained behind the natural hardpoint. When there was a brief lull on one side of the tree, she partially exposed herself to fire a burst of her own, which effectively emptied her first clip.

Now, all she could do was remain behind the tree for the moment as shots once again peppered around her.

An explosion, mingled with the screams of affected soldiers, rocked the area where the aggressors were firing from, and that was as good an excuse as any to dash over to the next nearest hardpoint, which was yet another tree.

Pistol shots rang out as Violet slapped the second…and last…clip of her MAC-10 into the ammo chamber of the weapon. She heard the groans of wounded men, however, as she remained behind the tree.

Hoping that this wasn't a sly trick, Violet partially exposed herself to take a peek…

…and she saw the butcher of Tokyo, Shuya Nanahara, pointing a pistol down at a badly-wounded soldier. He then coldly fired two shots at the black-garbed soldier's head.

It was now or never. Her parents needed to be avenged! She exposed herself before Shuya, screaming hatefully, and pulled the trigger on her weapon…

…but instead of another maelstrom of bullets, she heard a loud click instead. Her weapon had jammed!

All she could do was stand there, fearfully, as Shuya lifted his head up to look upon the sister of Satomi Noda.

Despite her weapon jamming, Violet still kept her weapon pointed at Shuya.

"You killed my parents." Violet angrily remarked, speaking japanese. "You son of a bitch."

"And yet, I saved your life." Shuya calmly responded. "If I had not stepped in to help you, you would be dead."

"That doesn't bring back my parents!" Violet snapped. "Or my sister!"

"Our government killed your sister, not me. Just like they killed Nobu." He glanced down at the soldiers he had executed. "Their government has become no different from ours. Sending people out to die while they sit in their chairs and revel in being masters in their own minds."

"My parents weren't like that!" Tears began to fill Violet's eyes. "They just…they needed jobs…"

This served as a reminder of Walter's words when he spoke to Shuya. The american's words about people who only went to the buildings to work routine jobs, with little to no concern for the reasons why the ex-student turned freedom fighter destroyed them.

"I can't bring back your parents anymore than I could bring back Satomi. I wish I could." Shuya lamented. "I wouldn't have killed anyone at all if it weren't for the adults that forced me to do what your sister and I did seven years ago. That forced you and your classmates to do the very same thing here on this island right now."

Violet still kept her jammed gun pointed at Shuya. The tears continued to stream from her eyes.

The japanese freedom fighter crouched down and pulled the dead american soldier's pistol from its holster, and then checked the clip, slapping it back in after confirming that it still had bullets. He then tossed it towards Violet. The weapon landed on the ground in front of her.

"Your weapon jammed." Shuya reminded. He then pointed to the sidearm he had offered her. "If you want to kill me so badly, use that instead."

Violet remained where she was. She didn't even bend down to grab the offered pistol. A part of her wondered if this was a cruel trick.

In the next moment, however, Shuya pulled out his Machine Pistol…

…and similarly tossed it to the side. After dropping his zippered Survival Pack, he then raised his hands, and slowly spun in place to convince her that he was no longer armed.

"Go on, then." Shuya calmly challenged, keeping his hands raised. "Avenge your parents. I won't shoot back."

Violet now lowered herself, slowly, to the ground to reach for the pistol that laid idle near her feet. Scooping it up, and then dropping the MAC-10, she held the active gun up, pointing it at the butcher of Tokyo.

Her eyes boggled with anticipation. All it would take is one simple squeeze of the trigger, and not only would her parents rest in peace, she would have satisfaction.

The words of Issac Meyer, however, came back to her, and they mingled with Shuya's own logic about being forced into these extreme responses. If he were everything that american news outlets had made him out to be, if he were this callous and cruel murderer, why would he submit himself so openly to Violet's justice?

Nothing about Shuya's expression indicated that he was attempting to deceive her, either.

The 'butcher of Tokyo' then closed his eyes, and quietly waited for the inevitable. In that moment, he also heard a noise behind him. A footstep. It was very close.

But when the expected shots…five of them…did fire, they whizzed past his right ear.

"GODDAMN YOU, HEATHEN!" Gloria Angel angrily cried out as she fled.

Violet's eyes still boggled as smoke emerged from the barrel. When Shuya angled his head behind him, he noticed a familiar-looking blond girl distancing herself from them. In Gloria's right hand was a Hunting Knife.

Slowly, the gun in Violet's hands lowered, but her tense, wide-eyed expression lingered as her eyes returned to Shuya.

The collared freedom fighter lowered his arms as Violet slowly approached Shuya. Stopping in front of him, they stared at each other for a long, tense moment…

…and in a flash of anger, Violet swung a tightly balled-up fist, connecting solidly with Shuya's jaw and sending him to the ground.

Shuya placed a hand at his throbbing jaw, feeling a trickle of warm moisture at the corner of his lips. He then turned his head to Violet. "I thought you wanted to avenge your parents."

Violet, who had stowed the pistol, rubbed at her sore fist as she continued to glare down at Shuya. "I just did."

---

The machete whistled over Martin's head as he ducked yet another swing of Lorenzo Trujillo's weapon.

He had chosen the perfect moment to strike at the boy with the solid gold knife. Initially prepared to contribute to the Workshop offensive, Martin's peripheral vision had caught sight of Lorenzo rearing back his first furious swing. After a few more of Lorenzo's wild and angry swings, Martin chose to dash away, with the machete-wielding student in hot pursuit.

Finding a spot away from the battle, the sounds of distant gunfire from the Workshop insurrection echoed down to where Lorenzo continued his attempts to score a fatal cut on Martin Norris. It was always an attempt to lop off an extremity…if not Martin's head…with every swing.

Eventually, Lorenzo had Martin beneath him, and the frightened-looking young man raised his hands defensively. "Hey! Hey! Jeezus fuck! What the hell is your problem, man?"

Fortunately, the wild-eyed Lorenzo chose a spoken response over his killing blow. "I know they put crazy people in these BR games to 'make things more interesting'! Contest winner, my ass!"

Once again, Lorenzo swung down, but Martin rolled to the side, avoiding a strike which dug deep into the ground where his body once laid. While he was on his side, Martin quickly snapped a solid kick at Lorenzo's left knee, which caused the machete-armed student to groan painfully as Martin scrambled back to his feet.

While the pain in his knee slowly subsided, he pulled the machete out of the ground and raced after Martin, initially limping forward, and then picking up speed. "GET BACK HERE, FUCKFACE!"

Martin, however, had seemingly gotten a bit of distance on the furious student with the machete, and after a few minutes of running, Lorenzo slowed to a stop, panting exhaustedly.

He then disgustedly slipped the machete back into the scabbard at his waist. "SHIT!"

As he walked off at a more casual pace, he began to think of a way to somehow get the drop on this 'contest winner'.

He hoped, from then on, that a more stealthy approach would work.

---

It was during their search for Natalie Cross that Walter Abilene's group…consisting of Annabeth Grant, Moriah Houk, and Valerie Chung…made their startling discovery.

"Dude, we just wandered into a Danger Zone." Moriah indicated their position on her map, showing it to the others as proof of her claim. "Our collars aren't beeping!"

Valerie looked to Annabeth, her eyes wide. "You think their computers went down? Maybe we could…"

"No." Walter interjected. "I think we should stick to the plan. There's too few of us. I don't wanna go Rambo just yet, but…this is obviously a plus. Second residence on the map is just ahead. Let's just keep going."

Moriah nodded. "Well, since I don't have Danger Zones to worry about, I should go find Martin and get him back with us." She then pointed an index finger at Walter. "You be careful if you find Natty, little boy."

Walter smirked. "Yes, mommy."

"Damn right, I'm your mommy." Moriah replied, grinning.

"You be careful too, Moe." Annabeth called over as Moriah stepped away.

"Natch, paleface!" Moriah, raising a peace sign in acknowledgement, then hurried away.

Annabeth's eyes next went to Valerie, who was now staring thoughtfully at her bloodstained Woodcutter's Axe.

Concerned, the collared young woman stepped over to her longtime friend. "Penny for your thoughts, Vee?"

"Huh?" Valerie's head snapped up in her surprise, but she waved dismissively. "Oh, nothing, nothing."

"Are you sure?"

Valerie nodded. "Yeah…but, uh…I think I'm gonna need to go squat soon."

Annabeth nodded in understanding. "Yeah, sure! Just stay close. Don't go too far."

Valerie smiled a bit. "Yes, mommy."

Grinning, Annabeth stepped back over to Walter, who had stopped a few feet away from the door to the residence. "Seeing as how you've got the better guns, and I've still got a bum leg, you, uh…think you can find out if anyone's in there?"

Annabeth brought up the MP5 as she nodded. "Will do. Stay put."

Moving to the front door of the residence as quietly as she could, she very slowly opened the door and stepped into the darkened room within.

Although when her eyes looked to the floor of the very messy room, she wished she hadn't entered the residence at all.

Two of the girls from her homeroom class, and one of the boys, were lying upon the ground in here. All three were dead alongside the tainted remnants of a bowl of chicken soup that had spilled over them. The goth girl Deidre Vandervelde, Alejandro's girlfriend Gina Salazar, and Kevin Mintner of the T.D. gang. Kevin and Deidre had fatal bullet wounds in their heads, while Gina showed no visible evidence of a gunshot.

The small vial of KCN Poison, however, gave Annabeth an idea as to how Gina had died.

The bugs that were flying and crawling over the trio of corpses, some of whom had died after eating the tainted soup, added significantly to the horrific sight…and the even worse scents…that Annabeth had unexpectedly walked in on.

When Annabeth slowly re-emerged outside of the residence, she looked understandably nauseous over what she had seen.

Walter looked confused. "Is she…?"

Annabeth shook her head, breathing heavily.

She then began to vividly puke.

Walter quickly limped forward, hurrying over to Annabeth as she dropped to her knees, still vomiting over the horrendous sight. He placed a hand on one of her shoulders as she tried to relax.

"I hate this game…" Annabeth stopped to cough heavily, after which she heaved out more vomit. "…I really hate it…"

Walter nodded. "Likewise. So…Natty's not in there?"

Annabeth shook her head again.

"Let's move on, then. Next residence is a bit of a walk, and it's gonna be dark soon." Walter remarked. He then looked around in sudden curiosity. "Where's Val?"

Annabeth finally got to her feet, spitting a bit of phlegm on the mess of fresh vomit below her, clearing her throat before answering. "Bathroom break." Walter handed her an unopened plastic bottle of water from his Survival Pack, which Annabeth cracked open and chugged a bit from before handing it back. "Thanks."

Walter then turned to begin limping away from the residence. Annabeth looked a little confused. "Aren't we gonna wait for Val?"

"Didn't you see how she hacked up that soldier during the fight at the Workshop?" Walter noted. "I think she can handle herself. She can catch up. She knows where we're going. Besides…knowing how fast I can go with this leg, I don't think we'll even reach the next residence before she can catch up."

Although she was still a little concerned for the safety of her best friend, she hesitantly nodded, and then stepped over to give Walter a hand in stabilizing his forward movement.

---

Having diverted Annabeth, Valerie Chung had settled herself upon the damp soil and thoughtfully held out her Woodcutter's Axe, which was now covered in sticky, dried blood.

It was the first time she had actually killed a man. Granted, it was in self-defense, but she never imagined she could cause that much damage with any kind of weapon, let alone an axe like the one she now held. The cold, lifeless, open-eyed stare still lingered in her mind, as did the sight of the deep, fatal gashes she had inflicted.

She feared for the kind of damage she could inflict if she had to use it again. Especially if this horrible game would compel her to turn against her friends just to survive.

Still…the idea of being able to go to whatever College she wanted, anywhere in the world, tuition-free had its appeal. Her parents had been counting on her to achieve academic greatness, which was more than they could say for her more rebellious and rude younger brother, who was pretty much a juvenile delinquent compared to his older sister.

How could she survive something like this, and return to face the world, given all the blood that would be on her hands?

What happened next seemed like fate as she heard the bushes behind her rustle a bit, mingling with the sound of footsteps to her right that had stopped near where she was sitting.

She turned her head towards this new presence, expecting to see someone like Gloria Angel, or Emma Curahee.

But it was William Han.

He just stood there, staring down at her as she gazed back at him. In his right hand was a wooden Baseball Bat.

She hoped that the sight of all the blood on her, and on the axe, would intimidate the Chinese-american athlete a little. Perhaps keep him from physically lashing out at her, as he once did before their relationship ended as badly as it did.

"Who did you kill?" William asked, his expression still largely neutral.

Valerie tried to hide her nervousness as she rose to her feet. She swung the axe up to rest it on her right shoulder, trying to look tough. "Someone bigger…and tougher…than you are."

Billy looked surprised now. "One of the T.D.?"

"Actually, if you must know, it was one of those soldiers." Valerie confidently answered, looking amused by her ex-boyfriend's funny-looking expression of cluelessness. "I hacked him to pieces. It was easy. All I did was pretend that it was you I was chopping up."

William sighed irritably. "Look…can't we just let the past go for now? I think the Danger Zones died. We should be able to get off of the island. This may be our only chance to escape!"

"Oh, just you and me, huh?" Valerie looked skeptical. "What about the others?"

William frowned in confusion. "What others?"

"What, you haven't been keeping track?" Valerie chided. "Walt Abilene's still alive. So is Moe Houk and Annabeth. Trudi, Nadia, Nattie…these are all people who could come with us. People who…"

"Are you fucking nuts?" Billy interjected. "Walt got shot in the leg! He wouldn't be able to swim! And Annabeth? You do know she's the President's daughter, right? The guy who's putting us through all this BR shit? Moe's a weirdo, Trudi's a Star Wars nerd, Nadia's a fuckin' russkie who can't even speak english all that well, and Nattie's a pain freak. Yeah…real winners, Val. You know how to pick 'em. No…you stick with me, and I don't wanna hear any back-talk this time. We are swimming the fuck off of this island right now!" He then angrily grabbed Val's right arm with a tight grip. "Come on. We're fuckin' going."

"HEY! Get your hand off me!" Valerie protested. "Jesus Christ, you haven't changed a bit!" She switched to speaking chinese as William tried to drag her away with him. "Ni zenme gen ni ba yi yang?"

William stopped upon hearing this, and roughly pulled Valerie in towards him. He then viciously back-handed Valerie across her face. The blow solidly connected, and sent the collared girl back a couple of paces.

"Don't you EVER bring up my dad, you stubborn BITCH!" William furiously roared. "You bring him up again…" He brought up his bat. "…and I'll really give you something to scream about!"

The blow, however, proved to be a mistake as Valerie Chung completely snapped. When her bruised face turned towards her abusive ex-boyfriend, she screamed with savage fury, swinging her axe down upon him with all the strength her vengeful rage could give her.

Billy, however, had his bat up to block the blow, although the axe cut deeply into the wood with its first blow, very nearly cleaving it in two.

Knowing the bat was now useless, he dropped it down and looked to Valerie in disbelief. "Fuuuck!"

Still enraged, Valerie swung at Billy again. The athlete leaped back a bit as the axe sliced harmlessly into the space Billy had vacated.

Billy started to run with Valerie hot on his heels, but his foot caught on a tree branch before he could pick up speed, collapsing him to the ground. As he rose up, he felt the axe bite very deeply into his shoulder with the Chinese-american girl's next furious swing, and he screamed aloud in pain as blood began to gush from the wound. Pulling the blade of the axe-head out, she furiously brought it down once again, this time violently burying it into one side of his face.

Pulling it out yet again, Valerie continued to hack away at the dying body of William Han as his arms flailed upward towards his ex-girlfriend, the sting of his blow to her face compelling her to strike again and again with rising ferocity. Never again! She practically screamed repeatedly to herself as his blood splattered up at her. Never again!

When she finally stopped hacking away at the athlete in front of her, he was just as much a lifeless mess as the soldier she had previously killed, only the colors of Billy Han's outfit showed more of his own blood compared to the blackness of the dead soldier's outfit.

Valerie shook terribly as she stared down at Billy Han's hacked-up body. She could hardly hear the voice that spoke behind her as the now mentally-unhinged student's attention remained on her own bloody handiwork.

"Don't worry." The voice said. "God will forgive you."

As Gloria's gun was right at the back of Valerie's head, not making contact with it, the pistol discharged a single thunderous round which dropped Valerie Chung over the bloody remains of William Han.

Having lifted a zippo lighter and a squeeze bottle of kerosene off the bodies of two of the dead soldiers, Gloria stowed her pistol away and began splattering the kerosene all over Valerie's dead body, which twitched once as she laid there. Igniting the lighter, she threw it upon Valerie's body and watched both corpses go up in flames.

"May the cleansing flame destroy the devil spirits inside you both." Gloria calmly remarked as the flames consumed not only the corpses, but the wooden portions of their weapons as well. "May your souls be at peace now."

Gloria traced the sign of the cross in the air as she stared down at the burning bodies, and then turned away, drawing her gun back out to continue her hunt.

Boy #17 Han – dead
Girl #2 Chung – dead

13 to go

---

Annabeth had stopped in her tracks upon hearing the distant gunshot behind her. She was also certain that she had heard screaming as well before the suspicious pop.

Her first thought was of Valerie, but Walter proposed another possibility when he made his comment.

"Emma and Gloria must have found each other." Walter mused.

Annabeth turned back to her crippled friend, fearing the worst. "I don't think so, Walt."

Walter checked his map. "We're almost at the next residence. If you ask me, I think Val's fine."

Annabeth sounded fretful now. "I should have given her my gun! What if…what if Billy Han found her?"

"Then she'll hack him to pieces." Walter confidently responded. "You and I both know she's not gonna put up with any more abuse from that jerk."

"What about the gunshot, Walt?" Annabeth then asked.

Walter had to consider this as well. "Did you want to go back and look for her?"

Given the distance they had covered, and the fact that the natural light above was dying with the second day's advance into night time, Annabeth figured it would be more sensible to finish their business at the residence, and hold to the rationale that Valerie was indeed capable of handling herself. She could have even been the one who fired the gun.

"No, it's OK. You're probably right." Annabeth gestured to the road ahead of her. "Let's keep going. We should be able to spot the residence by now."

After advancing for another ten feet, they finally spotted the single-level residence. Judging by their initial view of the windows, it looked like the interior of this residence was illuminated by candlelight, as the lights seemed to flicker a bit.

When Annabeth took a careful peek inside, she confirmed that Natalie was inside, and crept back to inform Walter accordingly.

The crippled student passed his Survival Pack to Annabeth, opening it up for a moment so he could stow the gun he inherited from Issac Meyer within it. Annabeth looked wary over this move. "You're going in unarmed?"

"I have to." Walter answered. "Don't ask why. Just…trust me."

He then limped to the front door as quickly as he could, keeping his eyes on the front door. "I'll handle this. You just be ready to leap in if it sounds like they're getting frisky."

But Annabeth was now unconscious, having been struck from behind by a solid object. As Walter knocked on the door, her assailant quietly carried her out of sight.

The crippled student expected to see Natalie answer the door, but it was a much different-looking Trudi Malone who pulled the door open. She flashed a creepy smile to Walter upon sighting him.

Walter needed to do a double-take, seeing as how Trudi's hair…and her outfit, or what was left of it…looked radically different. The half-lidded eyes that went with Trudi's eerie smile made her look blissed.

"Hiiii, Walter." Trudi quietly began. "You here to see Mistress?"

Before Walter could answer, they both heard the voice of Natalie Cross. "Let him in, slave."

When the crippled boy's eyes glanced behind him, his eyes widened, seeing as Annabeth…who was supposed to be his safety net…was no longer there.

Walter now looked very nervous as he carefully stepped inside the residence. The smell of clove cigarettes was in the air as his eyes adjusted to the darker interior…

…before settling upon a grinning Natalie Cross, who was seated in a chair surrounded by lit candles.

"Fancy seeing you again," Natalie amusedly began as the crippled student limped over to her. "slave."

Walter lowered his head, blushing in embarrassment. "Hello, mistress."

"I'd expect you to get on your knees, like last time…" Natalie mused. "…but seeing as how you have a bad leg wound, I'll make an exception."

"Thank you, mistress." Walter replied, keeping his head bowed.

"So what brings you here, slave?" Natalie asked, tilting her head curiously. "Did you wish to die at the hands of your mistress, or…were you looking to earn a more…lucrative favor?"

"May I look at you, mistress?"

Natalie nodded. "You may."

"The latter case, mistress." Walter answered as he raised his head back up. "I…humbly ask for your help in an assault on the school."

Natalie nodded slowly. "That's what I thought you would ask." She rose to her feet and began pacing, slowly and imperiously, around Walter. "I heard about what happened at the Workshop. Did you have anything to do with that, slave?"

Walter nodded. "Yes, mistress."

"And you knew I wanted to go after that teacher and the Captain, didn't you?" Natalie challenged as she stopped in front of Walter. "Why didn't you come to me before you did anything?"

Walter swallowed hard. "We…didn't know where you were, Mistress."

"We've always been here. Ever since we started this shitty program." Natalie chided. "You could have taken the time to look for me, slave. That was very inconsiderate of you."

"We have that…that japanese man with us, mistress." Walter next explained. "Please, I…I need anyone who doesn't want to play this stupid game anymore, and…and I…"

"Yes, you're right. I don't like this game any more than you do." She then reached down to caress the cheek of Trudi Malone, who had dropped to her knees upon the space to the left of where she was sitting. "I don't want to kill such sweet and loyal slaves."

Trudi responded like a pet, visibly pleased by the attention Natalie was giving her.

"But…you know, being one of my slaves, that I am not the charitable sort. Even in these…unique circumstances." Natalie's eyes returned to gaze upon Walter. "If I must do something for you, you must do something for me in return."

Walter had a look of dread on his face now. He had hoped that the BR program would mitigate his parlay with Natalie, but she unfortunately remained true to her dominant propensities. "W…what do you…what do you want from me?"

"A moment, slave." Natalie raised an index finger, and then turned her head to the side, calling out. "Do you have her, Nadia?"

"Da! I come up behind her and knock her out!" Nadia called back. "She is still out cold!"

Walter looked nervous now. "Mistress…I…I beg you…please leave Annabeth out of this."

Natalie's right eyebrow raised up. "Why? Is she not a part of the game too?"

"She has big gun on her back, Mistress!" Nadia called out. "Just like machine guns on soldiers!"

Natalie grinned now, gesturing to Trudi. "Slave Jedi could use a new toy. She lost the useless weapon they gave her."

"Mistress…" Walter sounded desperate now, fearing for what this 'bargain' might entail. "…they gave Annabeth a butter knife. Without that gun…"

"A butter knife, eh?" Natalie interjected amusedly as she stepped up to Walter and began wrapping a length of her bullwhip around Walter's neck. "I can think of a few ways to give men and women pleasure with one of those. Let's step outside. Soak up the full moonlight."

Walter struggled to remain upright, but he had to exert weight upon the bad leg, which sent a shot of pain through him. He grimaced as he stumbled along behind Natalie, trying to hold himself upright by grasping Natalie's shoulder. When they were outside, he saw Nadia Wolinski standing over Annabeth Grant's unconscious body, which was lying face down on the soil. Nadia was aiming a crossbow down on his female friend as Natalie and her two slaves stepped over to them.

"Jedi…" Natalie turned to Trudi, who perked up at the mention of her given name. "…look for the butter knife in her Survival Pack. When you find it, bring it to me."

As Trudi stepped over to begin looking through Annabeth's Survival Pack, Natalie slinked behind Walter and wrapped her arms around his torso, effectively pinning his arms to the sides as he spoke right into his left ear alluringly. "I'll never forget the last time I got to play with you, slave. I promised you pleasure for tutoring me in Social Studies. Did I not make that night…unforgettable for you?"

"Mistress…please, I…"

Natalie suddenly tightened the coils around his neck. "Answer, slave!"

"YES!" Walter called out despite the constriction at his throat. "Yes…yes…y-you did, M…Mistress."

Having discovered the Butter Knife, Trudi rose back up from the ground and stepped gingerly over to Natalie, presenting the knife to her.

"Hold on to it for the moment, Jedi." Natalie resumed speaking in Walter's ear. "Now…I'm going to give you a choice, slave. Either you allow Trudi to take Annabeth's gun, or I show you what delirious pleasures I can give you with that Butter Knife. One, or the other, will be payment enough for me and my slaves to help you attack the school. Otherwise? You're on your own…and if you attack when we do? We'll kill your group, too."

Walter closed his eyes in his frustration as Natalie and her slaves giggled around him.

"So…" Natalie teasingly flicked the tip of her tongue against the side of Walter's ear. "…what will it be, slave? Surrender her gun, or you pull your pants down, and wait for my little…back-door surgery? Where everyone can see us?"

Trudi brought her lips right up to Walter's other ear, whispering right into it. "She won't hurt you…let her play with you. Don't let her take the gun. Trust me. Her touch is incredible."

Walter felt Natalie's free hand undo the clasp and the zipper on his pants. She then grasped his crotch as she spoke into his other ear. "Answer, slave."

In that moment, despite the lingering pain in his leg, he knew that he couldn't allow the girls to take Annabeth's MP5. If anyone was to make a sacrifice for the potential advantages Natalie and her 'slaves' could provide, it was to be Walter. No matter how humiliating his sacrifice would be, he deemed it necessary. Even if it was a trick that would result in his death.

Walter's hands went to his pants, and he began to pull them down…

…but he was suddenly, roughly, shoved aside by Natalie! Feeling the whip quickly slip off of his neck, he heard the weapon emit four vicious cracks.

When Walter was able to roll and prop his upper body up, he saw Emma Curahee empty a barrage of bullets from her Uzi Submachine Gun into Natalie Cross. Another barrage cruelly perforated Trudi as well.

Nadia sent a crossbow bolt flying towards Emma's head, and it initially looked like the bolt struck home, given Emma's reaction…

…but the bolt apparently cut across the flesh on Emma's right cheekbone. Emma's response was a burst which cut Nadia down as well.

The militant girl then turned to Walter, grinning, and pulled the trigger of her Uzi.

But the response was a click.

Walter began to fearfully scramble back, the aggravated pain in his leg continuing to torture and handicap his desperation. Getting up wasn't an option, as his pants were around his ankles. Emma pulled the empty clip out, and then rummaged through her own Survival Pack for a fresh one. Finding one, she quickly pulled it out and shoved it right into the submachine gun's handle, slapping the clip in to secure it. She then pulled back the weapon's loading bar and quickly took aim…

…but the brief and thunderous short burst of live rounds cut into Emma's leg from behind her as Annabeth rolled to life, cradling her MP5! Emma dropped to a knee as she grimaced in agony, blood spilling from her wounded leg. Annabeth hurried over to defensively step in front of Walter, keeping her gun on the hobbled, militant girl.

Emma quickly rolled to the side as another burst spilled forth from the barrel of Annabeth's weapon. Despite her agony, Emma was quick to hurry away from the residence, disappearing quickly.

A mix of coughing, sobbing, and choking could be heard where Trudi was blasted down. Annabeth could still see movement there, unlike Nadia, who was gone from the fatal wounds Emma shot into her chest, and her head.

Trudi's own wounds were bad enough. She wasn't going to last much longer, and Annabeth knew it. As she knew Trudi to be a friend, she crouched beside her and cradled her upper body as she writhed in agony. Looking up to Annabeth, she had a pleading look in her face as blood spilled from her mouth.

"Please…*koff* *koff*…I…I wanna g-go home…" Trudi pleaded through her tears. "…I wanna go home…I wanna go home…mommy…mommy…"

Annabeth's eyes filled with tears as she continued to try and comfort her fallen friend. "Shhhh…it's okay…relax…" She found it difficult to talk through her sobbing. "…you'll be home soon…"

"I-I'm so cold…sss-so cold!" Another spasm of coughing sent more blood spilling out of her mouth. "…I want my mommy…mommy…J-Jason…please…I wanna g…*kkkk*…I wanna go…h-home…" Trudi began to go limp now. "….home…"

Once Trudi was gone, Annabeth squinted her eyes shut in her frustration. "Shit…" She regretfully remarked through her sobs. "…shit!"

Walter glanced over to Natalie, but there was no sign of movement at all from her bullet-riddled body. She was gone as well.

As a rumble of thunder was heard in the skies, Annabeth pulled the lids down over Trudi's eyes with her fingertips before rising and stepping over to Nadia's body to collect the Crossbow. She then moved to Walter and pulled him to his feet. He winced over the throbbing in his bad leg as they walked away from the residence. Both Walter and Annabeth were dead silent as they distanced themselves from the bodies of the BR-USA program's latest victims.

Girl #3 Cross – dead
Girl #8 Malone – dead
Girl #19 Wolinski - dead

10 to go