Note: I do not own Final Fantasy or any of its characters (which would be rediculously cool), and I do not own Battle Royale.

Note 2: Okay people, this is the second chapter for the brand spanking new version. It should hopefully be much further from being a BR narrative, but I specifically kept large parts of the old one in (because they were fine, and if it ain't broke, don't fix it)

Note 3: This is written so that you don't have to have any experience of Battle Royale OR Final Fantasy, although knowledge of either proabably maks it more enjoyable!

Chapter 2

For the second time that day, Squall awoke with the side of his face pressed against a cold surface. But this time, his mind wasn't clouded as it had been before. He noticed the absence of the airship engines' repeated rhythmic rumble, and the slight but perceptible sway of the vessel as it was buffeted by the wind. He realised that he was lying horizontally, and not propped up against the window. It slowly dawned on him that his neck felt sore, as if he had been wearing a too-tightly-knotted tie for hours.

With a growing sense of foreboding, Squall cautiously opened one eye to observe his situation. He was in a dark room that looked suspiciously like one of the classrooms back at Timber High School, complete with computer-terminal equipped desks arranged into rows up and down the length of the room, with a large electronic board at the front of the room where the teacher's desk would be. In the few dim rays of light that filtered in through the boarded-up windows, Squall could see his classmates sprawled everywhere on the floor around him, apparently asleep, just as he had been.

Propping himself up on one elbow to get a better view, Squall spotted Zell and Rinoa lying nearby. He slowly climbed over the still-sleeping forms of Kain and Aerith to reach Zell. Grabbing his shoulder, he shook him gently until he grumbled and opened his eyes.

"Wha… what is it? I'm so… soooo tired…" he yawned.

Squall didn't reply, as his gaze had fallen onto Zell's neck, around which was a fairly unremarkable silver metal band, with a small, embossed lump on the front. Although this collar appeared innocent enough, and looked almost gaudy, something about it made the hairs on the back of Squall's neck stand up. Reflexively, he reached for his own neck, and his fingertips found the same cold, smooth metal encircling his throat.

Well, that explains the soreness… but raises some worrying questions…

Reaching across to wake Rinoa up, Squall saw that she also wore a metal collar. He looked up, and as he did a quick scan of the room, he could see that all of his now-awakening classmates around him were wearing them. Most were groggily blinking their eyes and trying to work out was going on, obviously still half asleep. Others were feeling the collars and murmuring nervously. A few of the girls were whispering to each other, looking terrified. Rydia nervously tried to make a joke about the collars being a fashion disaster, but the comment wasn't well received, leaving an embarrassed silence. The air seemed to be charged with the anxiety of the classmates.

Grabbing the edge of a nearby desk, Squall hauled himself to his feet so that he could survey the room more clearly. Everyone in the class was on the floor, scattered about seemingly at random, no longer next to whomever they had been with on the airship. The classroom itself seemed to be quite old, and not particularly well maintained. Colour-faded posters were dangling precariously from the walls, the adhesive that had been holding them having weakened with time. Three of the eight fluorescent bulbs from the overhead lights were missing, whilst a fourth light was dangling by a single thin wire, looking as if it were about to drop to the floor at any second. All of the screens for the computer terminals in the room were covered in a fine layer of dust, and the buttons on the keypads in front of them couldn't be seen underneath the dirt. Wherever they were, it clearly had not been occupied for quite a while, and had deteriorated over time.

"Huh… all this place is missing is ghosts…" Cait Sith joked nervously. He immediately regretted the comment as several of the girls immediately huddled closer and started looking around nervously.

Everyone was fully awake now, and some were beginning to panic. Sephiroth and his gang were sitting in a corner, muttering something to each other in low voices. Sephiroth was reclining in a chair, looking almost bored by it all, but his gangers had tensed up and were seeking reassurance from their boss.

Yuffie and Selphie looked terrified and were hugging each other, and trembling silently. Shuyin and Lenne sat together quietly, holding hands, trying not to look nervous. Rinoa and Zell had dragged themselves up to sit on the chairs that were in front of each desk. Zell was still trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes (he's always lazy when it comes to getting up, thought Squall), but Rinoa was wide-awake, and she looked to Squall, her eyes full of incomprehension, but there was little fear in her expression; she was too strong to let that show, especially in front of her friends.

Squall was trying to think of something he could say to comfort them, when a distant sound caught his attention. The noise was steadily becoming louder, and eventually he could tell that it was the sound of heavy footfalls. There was a large sliding door behind and to the left of the teacher's desk at the front of the room, and a sliver of light was coming around the edges of the door. The footfalls were coming from that direction. Squall nudged Rinoa and Zell back onto the floor, then he crouched down behind a desk. He didn't have the faintest idea who was approaching, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn't going to be a pleasant encounter when they arrived.

Let's just hope that this is one hunch that doesn't turn out to be right…

The footsteps grew louder still, and it was now clear that there were several people coming. Everyone in the room was now fully awake, and aware of the advancing sound. Most followed Squall's train of thought, and crouched behind the desks, mentally preparing themselves for danger, while others merely remained in place, fixed to the spot in panic, confusion or despair.

Squall started subconsciously toying with his ring. He wasn't aware he was doing it, but it was like a reflex; he often did it when he felt anxious.

The footsteps arrived at the door to the classroom, and stopped. There was some muffled speech from the other side of the door, then a series of electronic beeps as somebody keyed in the unlock code on the keypad on the other side of the door. After a brief double-beep sound that confirmed a correct code, the door slid back, flooding the room with light from the corridor outside. Squall strained to see who lay beyond the now open portal, but the sudden light temporarily blinded him, and he was unable to see anything but a large, shadowy blob in the middle of the doorway. He looked away, blinked a few times until his vision cleared again and his eyes adjusted, and then turned back to see who had opened the door.

There were five men in Galbadian Army uniforms standing outside the door, all carrying guns that gleamed with a deadly light. Four of the soldiers, dressed in the standard blue fatigues of the Galbadian Army, filed into the room in a highly disciplined fashion, and stood to attention, two on either side of the door. The fifth soldier, who was wearing the red suit, tech helmet and bulky shoulder pads of a G-Army officer, remained outside, apparently waiting for something. After a few seconds, he snapped to attention, and barked "Atten-shun!" in the way only military people can. The four soldiers flanking the door also snapped their legs together, and saluted smartly.

"Hoo-hoo! At ease, gentlemen, at ease."

The voice that spoke this sounded mildly amused, and was the kind of voice one normally associates as belonging to an aged man. The owner of the voice moved into view outside the doorway. He looked like a small old man, except he didn't appear to have any discernible legs; his body seemed to end a bit below the chest, but he was floating on thin air, as if supported by the legs he was missing. He was wearing a blue jacket that draped down nearly to where his knees would be if he had legs. He had a long, grey beard, and stubby tufts of hair on the sides of his head. From his appearance, he was a man of some considerable age. Everyone in the room relaxed a little bit at the sight of this man; he seemed almost like a grandfather, kind and gentle, mildly amused at the things going on around him.

The little old man floated into the room, down the line the four soldiers had formed, and moved towards the teacher's desk. As he floated along, he bobbed up and down slightly. Squall wondered if he had been given some form of anti-grav device to replace his legs.

The fifth soldier – the officer – moved into the room and closed the door behind him, and stood in front of it, crossing his arms across his chest, looking for all the world like the military equivalent of a bouncer at a disco. The four blue-suited grunts moved to take up various positions throughout the room, with two flanking the old man, one standing by the windows, and the other turned on the lights from the switches behind the teacher's desk. All five soldiers stood completely motionless once they had taken up their positions.

The old man waited patiently for the students to stop blinking from the sudden increase in light, then he spoke to them, in the same mildly amused voice as before.

"Would I be correct in believing that you are Timber High School's year eleven class, hmm?"

Nobody answered at first, merely staring at each other in puzzlement. After several seconds' hesitation, Palom spoke up.

"Well, yeah, that's right. So who are you then, gramps?"

"Palom! Don't be so rude to him!" Porrom chastised him, nudging him sharply with her elbow.

"Hoo-hoo, don't worry, it's quite all right, quite all right," laughed the old man. "He does have a right to enquire who I am, after all."

He floated over to the teacher's computer terminal, and gazed down its keypad. He looked pointedly at the soldier next to him, who moved forwards and smartly wiped the dust away from the terminal. Satisfied, the old man picked up the digital stylus used for electronic note-taking, and wrote something on the screen. Once he finished, he pressed another button, and the e-board on the wall behind him flickered to life. His name was written in fine, looping hand writing on the board.

"My name is Bugenhagen, and I will be your 'stand-in' teacher for the next few days, ho-hmm."

"Stand in?" piped up Yang, one of the class jocks. "What happened to Mr. Kramer?"

"I imagine that this would be one of those things that is better explained with visual aids, ho-hoo."

Bugenhagen lifted one arm, and made some sort of gesture to the soldier standing in front of the door. The soldier nodded once, and then marched from the room. The classmates could hear him enter another room somewhere nearby, and then a moment later, he returned, pulling a large bag on a hover-sled behind him.

That bag… it looks like a… please, no…

After manoeuvring the sled to the front of the room, in front of the teacher's desk, the soldier dutifully located the bag's zipper, and undid it in one motion.

Everybody backed away several paces. Squall fell back onto the floor, narrowly avoiding smacking his head on the corner of the desk behind. Many screamed, and some of the girls burst into tears. Relm started retching, and then threw up. The of the class were unable to say anything, stunned into disbelief. Only Sephiroth and Vincent remained calm, watching with what almost appeared to be a kind of detached interest.

The cause of the outburst was the contorted and blood-covered remnants of the face of the class's former teacher, Mr. Kramer. He was obviously dead; no person could lose half their head and expect to survive.

"Hoo-hoo-hoo, you needn't worry children, his soul is with the Planet now."

Bugenhagen chuckled to himself after he stopped talking, then signalled to the soldier again, who zipped the bag up again.

"He strongly objected to your selection, and he had to be… silenced. Quite forcibly, as well. A pity, as good teachers can be quite rare these days. Hoo-hoo, but my, he did look so surprised when we were forced to shoot him." Bugenhagen began chuckling to himself again.

The class was speechless; their teacher for three years had been murdered, and the man responsible seemed mildly amused by it. Unable to formulate coherent thoughts, let alone speak, everyone sat in place, and said nothing. Everyone, that is, except for Sephiroth.

"So what have we been selected for, then?" he said, his cold voice sending chills down Squall's spine. He sounded almost bored, as if they were attending one of the frequent compulsory lectures on the 'glory' of the Galbadian Empire.

"Why this year's Program, of course."

Everyone was dead silent now. The silence in the room went beyond a lack of sound, it seemed to be a vortex pulling all noise into it; the sound of peoples' breathing, the noises made by those members of the class who were fidgeting, all were sucked in. Even the sound of the girls who were sobbing couldn't be heard. They all stared at Bugenhagen, unable to look anywhere else, unable to think because his words were ricocheting around inside their brains, blocking out all other thought. Everyone knew what the Program was. All school children knew, but never actually believed they would be the ones who would be chosen. It was a fate one should never dwell on.

Apparently taking their utter silence as incomprehension, Bugenhagen spoke up again.

"This year's Program will be like all those that have preceded it; we are situated on a small, deserted island, so there will be no interference from other people. Shortly, you will be sent outside this school building, and you then proceed to kill each other off, one by one, until there is just one victorious winner is left standing. I should think that that is simple enough, no? Hoo-hoo!"

Coherent thought still escaped the members of the class. No one could imagine having to seriously fight to the death with anyone, least of all with their closest friends.

Squall's mind was as blank as everyone else's was. He was trying to think, but nothing was coming. There was only a blank void in his mind, which was stopping any possibility of coherent thought.

"To better explain this… this 'game' to you, we will have a special guest join us shortly. She will outline the specifics of the game once she arrives. But before that, are there any questions?"

Bugenhagen bounced up and down in the air, looking around the classroom for raised hands.

"Hoo, Yes? You there, behind the far corner desk."

Squall craned his neck round to see who was posing the question. At first, he couldn't see, but then Gippal pulled himself up over the edge of the desk so he could make eye contact with Bugenhagen.

"Why are you doing this? What is the purpose of the Program!" he said loudly, half hysterical.

"Hoo-hoo, a question they ask frequently. Every time, in fact. Quite simply, it is because you children need to learn a very simple but important lesson, one that school cannot teach you. It is a lesson which you shall learn first-hand, and which the rest of your school shall learn upon hearing of this Program. This is the ultimate lesson that you can learn in life; your true worth. If you are really worth something, then you will fight to survive. Only those who have survival skills with intelligence and strength of will to back them up will win. Of course, there is an element of luck to, ho-hmm."

He was met with silence, and a number of uncomprehending stares.

"For years, the children of the great Galbadian Empire have been getting steadily worse. Their behaviour in and out of the classroom is disgraceful and intolerable, and many are becoming dangerously rebellious. This is naturally completely unacceptable for an Empire as great as ours. We could of course crush this behaviour, but we'd rather teach an important lesson whilst getting you to take care of each other for us. You will essentially teach each other. Teach each other that life is a struggle, and that only the best survive, only those who strive hard survive. And of course, those who strive hardest help further our great Empire's glory."

He paused, and floated slightly closer to the class, gazing around at the various groupings of friends.

Now, "I've heard that this class is quite a bad one, as far as high school classes go. Some of you have 'revolutionary' ideas that are dangerous to the Great Dictator, Golbez. Others of you are forming the kind of cliques that will become gangs that drain the economy of this great nation through the Black Market. Many of you girls are openly rejecting your natural roles as well-behaved homemakers. Hoo-hoo, this is no good at all."

He paused for a moment, sweeping his eyes over the room's occupants.

"Now, before we progress any further, I need to check a few details; are all forty-three of you here?"

Jessie nervously raised her hand.

"Yes, young lady?"

"I… I haven't seen Red XIII today… sir." She said, adding the 'Sir' in an effort to avoid displeasing Bugenhagen. "I'm fairly sure that he didn't come along."

"Ah, yes… the class' special student. An intelligent tiger-like creature, if I remember correctly?" he said. Jessie nodded silently.

While they were speaking, there came the sound of snickering from the back of the room. The sound prompted a raised eyebrow from Bugenhagen.

"Care to share the source of your mirth, ho-hoo?" he said, his voice slightly disapproving.

Seifer, spoke up, his voice as arrogant as always, despite the situation.

"Yeah; we locked the stupid animal in a cupboard back in school, before we left for the trip." Seifer paused to laugh, and Rufus joined in. "He won't be able to get out; he can't open doors with those paws of his!"

With the exception of Sephiroth, the entire gang burst out laughing. Rufus mimed opening a door.

"No opposable thumbs, no grasping the door knob!" he said, cackling with laughter.

"Hoo, I assume you realise that since you have been selected for the Program, use of your classroom at school will be restricted until the game is over? He'll be stuck in there for several days yet, so you've essentially already killed one of your classmates." He paused, then as an afterthought, added "Well done."

The laughter stopped abruptly.

"Moving on… I assume that the other forty-two students are present, though, correct?"

His question was met with nods from everyone.

"Hoo-ho, that is good indeed. The more the merrier."

Abruptly, Zell shot to his feet, glaring at Bugenhagen. He had been silently seething with anger for several minutes, and Squall had been silently praying that his friend would, just for once, learn to control his temper, but Zell, as always, had been unable to hold himself back.

His sudden movement caused the soldiers to tense up, moving their hands to their holstered weapons, flipping the safeties off, but Bugenhagen waved them off.

"How… how can you condone this, you… you bastard! You're condoning murder!"

"It is good for the nation, as I said before. It teaches valuable lessons and helps bring order. And I do not feel sorry for your deaths, if that is what you mean by your outburst. I believe that the souls of the dead return to the Planet to enrich and strengthen it. And an enriched planet is better for Empire, hoo."

Bugenhagen paused, looking at Zell as if trying to divine something from his appearance.

"Ho-hmmm… you are Squall Loire, no?"

Zell, not quite sure how to respond, fell silent. Squall stood up, placing a hand on Zell's shoulder, and pushing him back to the floor.

"No, I'm Squall. And the name's Leonhart. The Loire family died over a decade ago. I am no longer a part of it."

"Ho-hoo, very well, Squall Leonhart." Replied Bugenhagen, chuckling. "You know, I was interested when I heard you'd be in this Program. Did you know your older sister was Program contestant eleven years ago? That was what intrigued me about seeing your name on the list, you know, hoo-hoo."

Squall closed his eyes to hide the pain in them. Yes, he did know that Ellone had been chosen for the Program. That was what had torn his family apart.

On the day that her class was abducted whilst on a field trip, government agents had turned up at their house to inform them that Ellone had been 'selected to help further the nation'. His father, Laguna, had refused to accept it, and had barely managed to hold his temper in check as the agents gave them the news. Once they had left, he had immediately grabbed his guns and left to try and rescue her, leaving Squall alone with his mother, Raine. Laguna never returned, and Raine died from cancer less than two months after he left. Squall had been entrusted to Edea's orphanage after that, and had lived there ever since.

"I imagine then that this ruffian with you must be Zell Dincht, then, ho-hoo. Yes, that must be right; the two orphanage boys. You know, your 'Matron' Edea didn't react so well to the news that you'd been selected. In fact, I had to have Major Wedge here," Bugenhagen indicated the red-suited soldier at the door, "rape her to subdue her."

The Major called Wedge snickered behind his helmet. Zell shot up from his crouching position, shaking violently, more enraged than Squall had ever seen him before.

"You… you fucking bastard! How could you touch her! I'll fucking kill you!"

Evading Squall's attempts to stop him, Zell jumped onto the desk in front, and leapt at Major Wedge, murder in his eyes and screamed obscenities pouring from his mouth.

Zell never made it past the front desk.

The scene would be etched into Squall's mind forever. Although it took a few seconds at most, it would continue to play in slow motion every time his thoughts turned to Zell.

Wedge, with the practised ease of a professional soldier, brought his gun out of its holster and flipped the safety catch off in one fluid motion. Zell was still running towards Wedge when the first hypervelocity round tore through his head, carrying away nearly all of the left side of his face and a substantial portion of his skull. Something warm and liquid sprayed across Squall's face. A second round stopped the already dead thing that had once been Squall's closest friend in its tracks, tearing a large chunk from its shoulder, and the third and final round spun it to the floor, leaving a gaping hole in the centre of his torso. Wedge smoothly replaced the gun in its holster, and crossed his arms back across his chest. He had never even left his position, reclining on the door the whole time. There was a look of supreme indifference on his face, as if he had done nothing at all.

Squall was rooted to the spot, paralysed, and unable to even lift an arm to wipe the spray of blood from his face. He barely noticed the irony tang of the blood that had trickled down his face and into his mouth. This man, this faceless soldier, had raped the woman who had been like a mother to him for years, and had now murdered his best friend. Only one thought entered Squall's mind:

Kill.

If Rinoa hadn't sensed his intentions grabbed his arm, looking pleadingly into his eyes, begging him not to do it, Squall would have gone to exactly the same fate as Zell. Instead Squall stood, rooted to the spot, blood on his face, Rinoa hanging from his arm, his glare fixed on Bugenhagen. If looks could kill, Bugenhagen would have been reduced to a few trace atoms in the air in an instant.

The rest of the class was pressed up against the rear wall of the classroom, pushing back as if they could pass through the wall and escape from it all. When Wedge had started shooting, they had all huddled together as far away as possible from the danger. They may well have been screaming or crying, but Squall didn't notice, and didn't care.

He took a step forwards, prompting Wedge to move one hand back towards the holster. Rinoa, realising that Squall was still intent on revenge, yanked on his arm, unbalancing him. Acting on his instability, she kicked out at his leg, knocking him to the floor. He glared at her, and she flinched under his gaze, but she still met his glare, and replied with a look that meant 'not yet'.

Squall slowly turned his glare back on Bugenhagen.

I'm going to tear your head off your fucking shoulders, little man.

Bugenhagen smiled down at Squall patronisingly, almost as if he had heard Squall's thoughts.

The building tension was shattered by a knock at the door.

"Ho-hoo, please sit down now. It is time to listen to our special guest explain how to fight in this Program. Come in, Agent Marlene."