Chapter Thirteen

2:00 PM - 3:00 PM

Shuffling his feet slowly as though he were swaying between the nether that was the barrier between life and death, the boy growled, rotating his head slowly, letting his eyes close themselves as the rest of his body continued it's melancholy, mechanical motion. He was heading south, as far away as he could from the people who so blatantly betrayed him… After what they did to him? What the fuck? That's totally not fair, what they did to you…

"You don't think I know?" He groaned slowly, his throat dry… Hey, weird. It's that feeling you had back in the classroom again… That feeling you get when you feel ganged up on? You know, that pain in your throat. That happened when you and the rest of those kids were in the class waiting for that evil man to dish out those instructions of his.

"I hate that feeling," the boy said, again in his tone of boredom. "Reminds me of times I hate, too." Now, you see, that's putting it lightly. Times you hate? More like, times you loathe, despise, detest. No one has ever really treated you with respect. Not the respect you deserve, anyway. I mean, for instance, what happened back there? They basically insulted you. Your whole family gets decimated, and then your 'best friend,' uppercuts you in the jaw? You've got blood all over the front of your shirt from that? Gonna let that slide? Gonna let someone walk all over you again?

"Probably," he said. His eyes were fully closed as his feet shuffled along the ground, trudging across the dry dirt, kicking swarms of dust into the air, sending them flying into his blank face. Geez, you're a real mess, eh? Look at you. Blood, dust, dirt, sweat, tears… Not to mention that bullet in your back. You're having a rough time out here… I mean, considering everyone else is in the same situation you are, you're getting it a lot worse than they are.

"Thanks… Captain Obvious…" He raised his hand, leveling it with his chin. He slowly brought it forward, rubbing it. The dried blood was sticky and pasty, making him cringe in disgust as he felt his dried bodily juices.

"I wanna go home…" Shut up, asshole. Don't be so fucking selfish. You don't think you're the only one out here? There are already people dead, idiot. People who deserved to live more than you do. I mean, come on. You're an immature, pathetic wanker. Quit bitching about your friends. You don't think you got what you deserved? All Ike tried to do was help and you pushed him away. Your own best friend, kiddo. He was concerned. Oh, I get it. Big Mr. All-Important can't stand someone trying to hold his hand? Seriously. You're so self-absorbed it's almost disgusting. I'm gonna fucking puke! Augh! Asshole. Clean up your act.

He blinked. Suddenly, everything changed.

"Where am I?" He asked.

"Where do you think?" A familiar voice asked, in a somewhat familiar tone.

"What… is it…?"

"Yes, it is."

"But… you…?"

"You're dreaming, idiot! Jesus. I know I'm dead. You do too! They weren't kidding. Sorry. I guess I didn't wanna get your hopes up. I'm so dead it's not even funny. Done like dinner."

"How… how can you talk like this?"

"Don't worry about it, buddy. Remember what I said? I have faith in you. Think of this as a slap in the face for being such an insensitive douche."

"Ike was being an asshole!"

"Why, because he said, 'I know you're down, and that's putting it lightly,'? And then you got mad? That's bullshit! Seriously. Really, I mean, come on. GAH! You make me so angry sometimes! He was just, trying, to HELP you."

"…"

"Yeah, that's right. You know I'm right but you're just a stubborn dick. How 'bout a flashback? Maybe not a flashback of sorts. Maybe a… what if? How's that sound? I looooove flashbacks. Or should I say, what if's! Aw, fuck it, I'm not even making sense anymore."

"Guk!" In a mere second, he felt the intense roar of wind rushing through his ears, and the gut-wrenching feeling of being yanked upward. Suddenly, everything around him came into focus. He was… in his bed? No way! That was all a dream? Wow. I can't wait to tell Ike about this. Hahaha, oh my god. Wow. Hahahah. Best. Dream. Ever. Wow. Rubbing his eyes slightly to get the brittle 'morning crust,' as he called it out of the crevice made in the little fleshy section between his skin and his eyeball, he sighed, laughing slightly. Boy, it's good to have crust.

Realizing he was sitting up, not leaning back against his pillow, he smiled a toothy grin, laying back down onto his pillow. His room… ah… The wooden roof above him, tiled and laid out like that of a cabin, shone in the fierce sunlight reflecting off of his deskside mirror. Looking into it, he saw his own face. Whoa! Weird. I haven't seen my face in forever. Er…

The four walls, each laid out with the same wooden tiles lay submerged in darkness, deprived of the morning sunshine his mirror so generously distributed to the ever-so-beautiful looking ceiling of his. His possessions and posters laid decked out amongst the walls, displaying his favorite bands and movies. He really loved his room. Need a place to chill out for a while? Room. Need a place to… uhm… relax for a while… Room.

For some reason, Dante was more excited than he had been in a long time. Being the sullen teenager he usually is, (hey, what can he do? He's a 14 year old in high school. Typical.) times where he looked forward to something were few and far between. Today… was…

THE FIELD TRIP! YES! The field trip the whole class had been looking forward to since, well, god knows when! The field trip him and Ike had planned out as being a, uhm, really fun time. And stuff. He was so excited he couldn't even think straight. Hey, maybe he'll get to see Ruby there… Maybe they could hang out? That'd be alright with him. Suddenly, he realized a detail which made his heart freeze. Looking over slowly to the other side of his bed opposite from his mirror was now fogged up thanks to his exciting breathing, providing a rather odd display of chameleon-like light on the wall, he cautiously reached his hand over to the rectangular ebony object which could spell his doom. Slowly grasping it's surface, he turned it around slowly…

FUCK! It's 7:45! I've got 15 minutes to get ready! Gruagh!

Thrashing around like a human tornado, the boy's hair flew about wildly as he desperately made an attempt at trying to do everything to get himself ready at once. Dashing into the bathroom just down the hall and to the left, he tore at his shirt, trying to free the top half of his body from its grasp. His bare feet slipping on the cold floor of the bathroom, he tore his shirt in two, quickly realizing his own idiocy. Slamming his head into the wall, like he always did when he hated himself, he blinked, trying to gain focus.

"Maybe a little too hard this time," He thought.

Fifteen minutes later, he made his way out of the bathroom after preparing himself for the school day. At the top of the stairs, he made his call, "KEVIN!" Quickly retreating to his room, he literally flew into his clothes, a red 'The Mars Volta' t-shirt with a black zipper hoody overtop with a pair of blue jeans. Turning around to get back to the top of the stairs, he saw his older brother, Kevin, at the foot of the stairs, holding a half-eaten piece of toast with some butter on it in his hand, still in his pajamas. His hair, although shorter than his brother's, was curly and unruly like his younger brother's. It was tossed about erratically atop his head, in the same auburn color his brother's hair possessed. His eyes were groggy and had bags underneath them, thanks to his continuous traveling throughout the world. What did he do, anyway? Though he was four years older than his younger brother, he looked quite similar to him, from everything to his hair to his mouth.

"Whaaaaaat?" He drawled, only to reveal the disgusting, breakfast-ridden, inappropriate chasm which was his mouth. His little brother cringed, sticking his tongue out.

"You're gross," he said, sliding his hands along the stair rails, kicking at the steps as though attempting to launch himself down the stairs.

"That's all you have to say?" Kevin said, stepping aside to let his brother land on the ground.

"AGH!" His brother shrieked as his arms gave way amongst the slippery rails, letting the top half of his body go careening into the ground. SLAM! His body crashed into the wooden floor of the lobby as his brother laughed at his stupidy.

"You're such a spazz," he said, taking another wholesome bite out of his toast. "Your field trip is today. Hurry up and leave."

"Oh my god, you're right." The boy said as he pushed his arms forward, using them as leverage as a means of hoisting himself up. "I'm leaving, like, right now." Punching his brother in the chest, he ran towards the front door to retrieve his shoes and in turn, leave.

"When you get back?" His brother asked, taking the final bite out of his toast, clapping his hands together as a means of getting the remnants of the crumbs off of his fingers.

"They didn't say," the boy said. "They've been pretty vague about this whole thing."

"Weird," his brother said. "Well, I'm not gonna keep you. Say goodbye to mom and dad."

"MOOOOM! DADDDD! BYE!" He shrieked as he put on his left shoe. Quickly tying it up, he stood up, retrieved his bag of supplies for the field trip as well as his backpack, and opened the door. "Later, Kevin."

"See you later, bro." Kevin turned back towards the kitchen. More toast!

The boy ran down the street, knowing he was obscenely late for school. 'Mr. Rogers is gonna eat my brain.'

Several minutes later he arrived at school, his prediction proving accurate. Fifteen minutes late!

Entering the school in a hurry, he hoisted his backpack further up on his back, scratching his nose with the hand that wasn't occupied with holding his supply bag for the field trip. Slamming through the front door, he suddenly realized he came about a half-second away from sending the principal into another dimension.

"Slow down, Zolianis! And you're late!" He called as the boy continued running throughout the cafeteria, turning left.

"Sorry!" The boy called back as he dashed across another hallway, spotting his locker at the end of the hall. Seeing a bunch of twelfth-graders, he tried to position himself to be able to dodge them. Their leader, Greg, laughed as the boy approached. The two had had an altercation earlier in the year resulting in him getting beaten up by Greg. The boy scowled and stopped running, trying to pretend as though Greg weren't there.

"Hey, pussy boy," Greg sneered, his posse behind him cackling like hyenas as Greg fondled the toothpick in his mouth with his tongue.

"Oh, hey there," The boy quickly turned around, a gleeful expression on his face. 'Sarcasm overdrive, on!' He thought, laughing in his head at his own blatant cheesiness. "How are you boys today? Loud, rude, obnoxious and disliked by the vast majority of the school who can't stand up to you in the first place as usual?"

"Yeah, we're like that. We're fit for an asskicking, too." Greg laughed at his own joke, his posse quickly following in his stead, all nodding at each other, laughing.

"Well, I'd say right now you'd look fit for an asspounding," The boy said. This retort quickly stopped the posse's laughing as Greg frowned at him. "Now fuck off. I don't have time for your shit."

"Like last time, faggot? Like last time? When I kicked your fucking ass?" Greg glared at him, not even stopping to accept the numerous high-fives he would've received from his cronies.

"Uhm, no. I had time for your shit last time, that's why I started making fun of you. I'll get you back eventually, just not now. Until then, happy trails!" He quickly dashed off down the hallway to his locker, laughing as he realized how stupid Greg and his friends were.

"Pussy!" They called down the hallway as they watched the boy make a beeline toward his locker.

Several minutes later, he finally arrived at class, met by the tumultuous roar of his teacher, Mr. Boyd Rogers. "ZOLIANIS! LATE FOR MY CLASS, AGAIN!" As he roared, he could hear the fellow students in his class snickering and sharing sly remarks with each other, glancing his way occasionally.

"Yes, sir, I, uh, uhm, er. Yeah. I had, uh, a case of the, uhm, er, eh, uhm, er—You know what? I'm not even going to try. I slept in, OK?" The boy shrugged his shoulders, putting on a comical smirk as the class laughed at his remark.

"Okay. Okay, sure," Mr. Rogers, too, shrugged, putting on the same grin the boy just did. The boy lowered his arms, grinning widely, thinking 'Hey, I got off this time! Must be because it's the field trip today.' Nodding, he began to walk to his seat.

Suddenly, an ear shattering roar seemed to paralyze his every movement, not to mention his thoughts. "DETENTION! COME LATE FOR MY CLASS EVER AGAIN, BOY, OR SO HELP ME I WILL HAVE YOU SUSPENDED! TAKE A SEAT AND IF I HEAR A WORD OUT OF YOU, SO HELP ME I WILL HAVE YOU SUSPENDED!" Veins in the old mans head throbbed like convulsing pythons as his eyebrows arched into a V fit for an over-exaggerated Japanese cartoon villain.

"But, Mr. Rogers, you don't have to say it twice," even the boy couldn't help laughing at his witty retort as he tried his best to not make a bigger scar on his school profile as he already had. 'That's the last one,' he thought.

"Just… sit." The boy didn't need telling twice. Immediately darting to his seat, he quickly scanned the class looking for what could brighten a day looking to be as odd as this one. 'Is she here?' As he craned his neck to look behind him, his gaze met that of the most treasured person he knew of on this Earth. Ruby… She smiled at him, causing him to turn beat red. Quickly realizing he was embarrassing himself, he quickly used his trademark 'lay-off-the-heat' move as he called it. Putting his hand behind his head, he ruffled his long hair, shaking it in front of his eyes, trying to hid his red face. He quickly found his best friend, Ike, and he sat down beside him. The two exchanged glances as Ike grinned oddly at him, a sign of 'you're a total idiot.' He nodded and shrugged slightly as if to reply, 'I know, I know.'

The class went on normally, like any other day; the boy eventually falling asleep, him getting yelled at, then him and Ike exiting the class laughing heartily at the generic school outcast or reject.

"Let me get my bag for the field trip," Ike said, quickly turning around to run to his locker.

"Yeah, right. Field trip. I'll go grab mine," the boy replied, shaking his long hair as he began to hop down the stairs to the lower level two at a time.

The trip to his locker and back to the bus went by without incident, and Dante quickly sat down onto a seat next to Ike, across the isle from some good friends of his, Justin Lutley and Cedric Rodriguez.

The trip ensued with nothing particularly interesting occurring, aside from a verbal sparring match between Sid Algar and Jesmund Bosworth, quickly broken up by Nicole Zimmel, Jesmund's loyal girlfriend. Aside from that, Class 1A of Cochrane High School was peaceful…

"So, who do you think is gonna win the Battle Royale?" Ike suddenly looked up at the boy with a casual expression on his face, speaking in an equally carefree tone.

"What? What are you talking about?" The boy frowned at Ike, quickly turning back to scrape his fingernails against the back of the seat in front of him, peeling away at a patch in the seat.

"The Battle Royale! That's the field trip," Ike said. "You didn't know? Wow. You're reeeeeal behind."

"Are you kidding? Ike, that's not even funny. People die in that thing," the boy replied, this time not even averting his gaze from the small patch.

"Well, yeah. That's the idea. I don't really care though. This'll be fun! Who knows, maybe I'll end up killing you!"

The boy's hand froze as he picked at the seat, leaving him to stare forward with thoughts of utmost disgust running through his head. "That is not even funny," He said, turning to look at Ike, glaring at him. "Stop being a dick."

Ike frowned at him. "Come on, man. You can't tell me you didn't know about this. The whole class did! Hell, I think you're going to die first. Everyone's out for you."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Why won't you stop? Jesus, fuck off. I'm going to sleep. Don't bother talking to me." The boy turned to rest his head against the window, trying to close his eyes. 'How could Ike say that? Jesus, a joke is only funny for so long. Why would people be out to get me, first, anyway? Wait, what the fuck! I know this isn't real. Why am I thinking like this?'

"You're serious eh. Well, whatever. You can't tell me why you don't think people are gonna be out to get you in this game?"

"No. Why?"

"Because you're a self-absorbed, conceited bastard. Hell, that display you put on in class today was so old and rehashed I felt like I was going back to the days where I had my afro and my flannel jeans. Ah, yes. Earth, Wind, and Fire."

"Shut up! Shut up! Seriously, you're so not funny! I would've laughed at that had you not been such a dick this whole—UGH! SHUT UP!"

At this point, a large portion of the students on the bus turned to face the boy, frowning at him oddly, some of them sharing comments upon his odd behavior.

I"What? WHAT THE FUCK!" The boy stood up this time, shouting, and at this point everyone on the bus had turned to stare at them. "WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH ALL OF YOU! THIS ISN'T SERIOUS! THE JOKE STOPPED BEING FUNNY!"

The class continued staring at him, blank expressions on some, judgmental on others and on some, expressions of fully natural, untouched detest. Ike looked up at him, frowning. "WHAT!" Dante shouted at Ike, spit actually flying from the chasms in his gums into Ike's face.

"Sit down. People are trying to sleep." Ike said, changing his tone back to the casual tone he had taken up earlier.

"NO! NO! NO! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! THE PROGRAM? BATTLE ROYALE!" As the boy screamed, the bus driver could be seen stepping on the brake, pulling over at what seemed to be a school built in a similar manner to Cochrane High's façade.

'There is no way this is happening,' the boy thought as he clapped his hands up against his ears, gritting his teeth and growling. 'How can they be so laid back? What the fuck, honestly! I don't even know where I am, how I got here, why. I honestly can't believe this is happening.'

"Alright kids, we've gotta make a quick stop. Time to pick up some guests." The bus driver beckoned to a person outside in a strange gesture the boy had never actually seen before. The person stepped slowly inside to the building. As the boy watched, he couldn't' help but feel hopelessly overpowered. Sitting down, he brought his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead upon them. Closing his eyes and clapping his hands on his ears, he began to rock slowly back and forth almost inherently, as though he really was going crazy.

'This was supposed to be a normal day! School! Not fucking… MASSACRE! WHAT THE FUCK! KEVIN? MOM? DAD?' As the boy sat, he didn't realize the upper row of his teeth was digging into his bottom lip viciously, creating numerous evenly spaced perforations, giving way to small flows of blood.

The rest of the students turned to face forward, staring in a melancholy manner at the front of the bus as the driver stepped back onto the bus, now sporting a face-mask resembling that of an octopus; two rubber hoses extended from slots in the mask to a strange apparatus on his back. As he walked on, several people clad in black and red uniforms, the Coalition's theme stepped onto the bus. Each of them toted a large submachine gun, with an ebony belt fastened around the waist. Several spherical, also ebony objects were hitched at even spaces among their belts, and they too had the same facemask as the bus driver on. Realizing a commotion, the boy slowly looked up to pinpoint the source. At this point, all agents, seven in total, had stepped onto the bus, all of them staring down the row of the bus, examining the students. The bus driver sat down into the driver's seat, slowly putting the bus into gear and driving off. No student made a single noise. As the boy looked, anger filled his body. 'How can they fucking sit there?' Small trickles of blood oozed down his chin, the viscous substance making it look as though the boy were some sort of sadistic cannibal. At this point, however, his thoughts could've easily matched the expression of malice on his face. 'I'll fucking kill them. I'll fucking kill those… THOSE BASTARDS!'

Suddenly, the very soul of malice which had possessed the boy unleashed its anger, almost carrying him to soar at the front of the guards' brigade, his fist flying behind his right shoulder, quickly smashing into the front mask of the guards. The fist collided so hard with the agent that the mask he wore shattered into several shards of some odd substance, which upon contact with the ground immediately dissolved. The boy didn't even have time to address the presence of the odd dissolved substance which had once been a protective barrier, sending another fist crashing into the agent's unguarded face. However… his mask had come back? As the boy hit him, he felt hard, cold material once again, and again the same shards flew to the ground immediately dissolving into a strange, gummy substance. At this, the guard retaliated, raising the butt of his submachine gun, sending it crashing into the bridge of the boy's nose. A sickening noise, resembling a submerged crack sounded loudly throughout the bus as blood flowed as freely as ever from the boy's nose. Screaming in pain, the boy reeled backward, falling into an unoccupied seat. As he made his attempt at waging his one-man war, he saw that no one else in the entire bus had sided with him at his defense, all of them instead cheering on the agents.

'What? Oh, no.' That same feeling… the feeling of oppression throbbed in the boy's throat. 'Not this time,' he thought, slowly standing up as blood ran continuously down the front of his face, dripping horribly onto the bus' metallic floor below him and onto his hood. At this point, the cannibalistic look on his face had now expanded into a look of ungodliness, a savage nature. Seething furiciously, the boy again jumped forward at the first guard, this time, not making an attempt at hitting him, but instead making an attempt at taking off the mask of his… So he could show him justice. Growling as he leaped forward, the boy placed his thumbs on the visor, clasping the rest of his fingers around the guards head. As though the guard were mocking him, he didn't make an attempt at fighting back, simply standing as the boy made an attempt at breaking his visor with just his thumbs. Meanwhile, the boy cried out, using all of his force and rage in an attempt at breaking the visor, tears seeping from out of his eyes, streaming down his face and mixing with the crimson mess that was the lower half of his face. Suddenly, he had a startling revelation. 'Take the mask off!' Considering the rest of his mind ran rabid with thoughts of destruction, of torture and of unbridled loathing, anyone else would've found it impossible that a thought as sane as this managed to run across his brain loud and clear.

Averting the physical tension from pressure to lifting upward, the guard realized what the boy was trying to do. In a flash of ebony and flesh, he brought the butt of the gun into the elbow of the boy, making another dull crack, which echoed throughout the bus. As the students of the bus cheered, the boy was sent reeling to the ground, screaming, his arm looking as though it had been placed on backward, his forearm, instead of being bent inward, was outward, his fingers and the entire hand convulsing as the nerves in that arm pulsated violently.

Feeling consciousness fading from him, the boy tried his utmost to stand up. However… a loud barrage of gunfire rattled his eardrums, sending him to the ground, shielding his head with his good hand, almost instinctively. As the bus settled to a stop, for at least 30 seconds, from all seven agents, all the boy could hear was repetitive gunfire, with a couple screams, shatters of glass, and the sound of bullets colliding with the metallic roof, walls, and floor of the bus. After the gunfire ceased, the boy slowly raised his head, as much as he had still struggled with remaining conscious. His eyes met with the concealed eyes of the agent, and the boy, still amidst all his rage, saw that the agent was looking down on him with a sense of pity. Yet… the agent chose not to end the boy's life. As the boy slowly stood up, the agents all clambered off of the bus, save the one agent whom the boy had battle so fiercely. As the boy looked around the bus, the bullet ridden corpses of all of his classmates lay in the seats, dead, each and every one of them coated with their own respective layer of crimson. Looking to where his best friend was, the boy saw nothing but the body of Ike. The head had been blasted apart, only a small chunk of it remaining atop his neck. As he looked beyond this horror, he saw the chips of his skull among the back of the bus, assuming those were even his. Trying to find the girl he loved so dearly, she, too, had been shot to near-non-existence. One of her arms had nearly dissolved against the tremendous gunfire, leaving way to nothing but a bloody stump. The more the boy tried to find people who could still be alive, the more horror was laid out amongst his eyes. 'Ryan?' Dead, among the wall of the back of the bus. Literally. 'Cedric?' Dead, a single bullet hole in the center of his forehead. 'Erin?' Dead, at least six bullet holes scattered amongst her front. 'Anyone?' Dead. In some way, shape, or form, anyone the boy had known for a large portion of his life, anyone who he had been acquainted with in any way, anyone who had basically been the basis of his existence, anyone, was dead.

What could he do?

Nothing.

The boy merely stood there, thoughts not even running through his head. All there was was a big, vague, empty space. Every memory he had ever had, every friend, enemy, gone. What left was there?

Meanwhile, the agent who had stood there in pity continued to watch the boy, though little did the boy know, behind the concealed visor of the agent were tears. The agent too felt remorse. Was it because he had taken part in a 47-student massacre which lasted under 30 seconds? Or was it because…

Slowly taking off his mask, unbeknownst to the boy, the agent stood, his curly auburn hair tossed about his frame.

"Dante…" Kevin Zolianis said as he dropped his submachine gun to the ground. The boy, in a mere trance of sorts, didn't respond, still staring blankly forward. The flow of blood from his nostrils had slowed to a mere ooze, while his arm was still slung about crookedly. "Dante, listen…" Tears flowed freely from Kevin's face as the boy still stood staring ahead. "Dante… you have to listen to me." At this, the boy turned slowly toward his older brother, his eyes drooping as he saw that his hearing had indeed not been impaired. He could've sworn that had sounded like Kevin, the one person who could make some sort of a successful attempt at comforting him, the one person he could count on in times like this. Not that having every friend you've ever had massacred is a daily occurrence.

"Why…?" Was the only word that ran through the boy's head.

"Listen… I… I can't even begin to explain." Kevin sobbed as he saw the expression on his younger brother, his disciple in sort's face. "I know this looks weird, but my beliefs have changed, Dante. I know we've always wanted a collective society, some place where cohesion would actually exist. But… you have to realize, we can't make any attempt at that by simply fighting back… We have to become them. That's why I've joined up… does this make sense, Dante?"

"Fuck you." The boy said, a slight twinge of the malice he had experienced earlier returning to him as his fists clenched.

"Don't. Honestly. This IS in fact, the only way."

"Then what did you mean by the letter you sent me?"

"What? What letter?"

"I had a dream, where you said I had to fight back."

"That… huh? How?"

"The bastards killed you in my dream, Kevin. You were dead."

"What? No. Listen, it was just a dream."

"It was real. It felt real, Kevin. You had died in that dream. I was terrified that you had left so abruptly, but now you've left me here too. You traitor. You fucking turncoat. So what, that letter must've been just out of panic, telling me to fight back only 'cause you realized, 'Hey! I'm about to get killed!' That was it, huh? That was it?"

"No, listen…"

"I'm not going to fucking listen anymore. I'm going to take a stand. You're gonna get out of my way too, you prick. Some brother you are. All those things you told me, all gone to waste just like that?"

"It's not like that, Dante."

"Oh, yes, yes it is. Yes. Move."

Trying to exit the bus, the boy made an attempt at shoving his brother aside. Though, his brother stood tall, not allowing him to pass.

"Move, you fuck!"

"You'll die out there."

"I'll die in here."

"I'll leave you here."

"Hah, typical you. Leaving me to suffer, eh?"

"…"

"That's what I thought. Now, move." Again, the boy tried to shoulder his way past his brother. However, Kevin's SCUDS, Standard Coalition Unit of Defense Suit, shoved the boy off as easily as it could've. Being bumped back, the boy tried again to shoulder his way past. Simply by standing there, Kevin managed to repel the boy away.

"Move." The boy said, this time extending his good arm to push him.

"I want to talk things over." Kevin said. At this, he reached down to pick up the submachine gun. His eyes, still glossy and stained with tears, stared at his brother's as he raised the gun to his eye, pointing it in between the boy's own two eyes.

"You wouldn't do that," the boy said, growling.

"Yes I would. Sit."

"No."

"Don't make me do it, Dante."

"Go ahead and do it, traitor."

"…"

"Do it!"

"…"

"Do it! Now!"

"…"

"NOW!"

BLAM!


Dante Zolianis, Boy Number Five, woke up from his dream, his face embedded in the dirt, the rest of his body laying still, hands at his sides, legs extended outward. His blank face laid against the rough dirt, the Earth's crumbs digging into his face as he pressed it into the ground. His eyes opening, all he saw was a mosaic of all sorts of brown.

"It was a dream." He said, beginning to extend his elbows at his sides to push himself up. Quickly glancing at his left elbow, he saw that it had indeed been a dream. 'No need to pinch myself.'

Pushing himself up, Dante brought himself to his feet, brushing the dirt off of his legs, yawning. Feeling the dried blood from his wound on his chin, he sighed as he realized the horror he was in. The Coalition on top of his every move, his best friend at odds with him, and his brother in… His brother. The bastard. Coalition fucking bastard. What a traitor. Goddamn him. DAMN HIM!

His fists once again clenching themselves into fists, Dante felt his fingernails digging into his palms. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head, as though in an attempt to flush the thoughts of his brother out of his head. Though, what Dante didn't realize was that it was just indeed a dream. But…it seemed so real.

"So, you said it was a war against them, huh, Kev?" He said as he walked slowly to a small puddle of water. Bending over to look into it, Dante saw his own face, the blood of his covering the entire lower half of his face. "Maybe it is. But you're a part of it, so it's as much a war against them as it was against you, Kev." Looking into the water, he raised the one fist he had used to hold himself up as he kneeled to smash it into the puddle, watching the ripples at first violently sway amongst the aquatic breedling, then watching them slowly descend to slower heights and finally cease. Cupping his hands in the water, he brought the cool liquid to his face, trying to wash off the blood.

"Though… I can't help but feel I still love you, Kev. Maybe it's just because you're my brother, I don't know. But… I miss you." Tears rolled down Dante's cheeks for only the umpteenth time this game as he leant backward onto his knees.

"Ike!" Realizing his best friend was no doubt waiting for Dante's return, 'Hey, I doubt he was, I was being a real asshole,' Dante immediately began to sprint towards the direction he thought he had come from. "I really hope I'm going the right way."

As he ran, his thoughts were, 'It is a war against them, Kevin. And I'm going to take up the fight in it, as much as you were a part of it, the other 99 percent of it was wrong… Though… why? Why, Kevin? And… time to find Ike.

'Maybe this is the beginning of a war?'

41 STUDENTS REMAINING