Bathurst High School Prologue

[Megami†]

It was very safe to say the students of Bathurst High School's tenth grade class had no idea where they were currently, though they knew where they weren't, the sexual education seminar the homeroom classes of Ms. Gussie and Mrs. Rowena had just been attending. Instead, they were all in a very dark room, every one of them sprawled on the floor. The floor was, being a floor, very hard, and those who wiped their hand along it and could see the result would notice dust covering the hand, indicating excessive dirtiness. All over the room, the shadowy forms of the students shifted uncomfortably, some moaning, others shaking their heads or rubbing their eyes, others just sitting silently, curious as to what happened.

"What's going on?"

"Where the hell are we?"

Questions like these were being asked all over the room, some hushed, a few loud and panicked, one or two murmuring to themselves. The last thing any of them could remember was sitting down for the seminar in the auditorium, idle chatter as always going back and forth, very few actually paying attention to their Principal, who stood at the front, watching them carefully. When everyone had been seated, including Gussie and Rowena, he left, only telling the teachers he'd be "back in a minute". Shortly after, they had all passed out, unaware of the sleeping gas that had been leaked into the room as federal agents (obviously wearing gas masks) entered and filed them all into vans, like cargo to be shipped, which is exactly what they were in a way. That's when they noticed the figure sitting at the large desk before them, again the room being too dark to figure out any distinguishing details. Whoever it was, they were watching the students carefully, and when they all seemed more or less awake, he stood up, paying the students no mind. The figure seemed to have something in his hand as he walked over to what appeared to be a television on a stand, with a VCR-like object underneath. Wordlessly, the person slid the object into the VCR and turned on the television.

---

Michael Suarez had to admit to himself that he'd never been as pleased to see someone as he was of Scott Jameson. Running into the boy (literally, at full speed, as he sprinted away from the sound of gunshots that he'd heard), he'd peeled himself off of the ground and been ready to run as fast as he could in the other direction, when he'd taken a split-second glance and realized that, lo and behold, it was good ol' Scotty Jameson, lying on the ground, groaning in pain and rubbing his shoulder as though he'd just been hit by a baseball bat. Of all the baseball team members, Scott was pretty much the most useless one to have on your side in a fight, but Michael, at that moment, didn't care. The fact of the matter was that having a friend by his side would make him that much stronger, and give him someone to fight for. He'd recalled extending his hand to Scott, who'd immediately shielded his eyes in fear, with only the kind of conditioning that someone in a war zone could have achieved. Once Scott had realized that the person standing over him wasn't going to shoot him and move on, he'd slowly lowered the quivering hand from his face, and his eyes had lit up at the sight of his fellow baseball player. He'd taken Michael's hand, to which Mike had pulled him up, and then things were all right again.

They'd been travelling together for probably about an hour, just wandering through the bushes, catching each other up on the other's travels throughout the island and Survival of the Fittest. Scott had seen quite a bit more battle experience than Michael had, which surprised him a little, for Scott had lived through them all, and Scott was always such a squirrely kind of guy, so it just didn't make sense...he'd shrugged it off and silently attributed it to really damn good luck on Scott's behalf. As for him, he'd seen his share of bodies, but hadn't been near to much of the action all that much. The two had comisserated on the fact that much of their baseball team had died on the island, in fact, the only one that they both knew was alive for certain was Jack, and then, they didn't even know. Michael had let out quite the sigh at that little piece of information. If it got down to three, and it ended up being the three of them from the team, what would happen? Would Jack be murderously intent on sending them both to an early grave? Would he have to pull the trigger?

It saddened him to think about it, but the answer was that he truly didn't think he'd be able to do it. That, of course, was where they were at the present time, having just emerged from the woods, looking right onto the desecrated lighthouse.

Scott looked back at Michael, and with an unpleasant look on his face, promptly vomited into the bushes. The lighthouse had the stench of death all around it, and the decapitated corpse that was laid out just in front of it, freshly bleeding, was not the welcome mat that Michael had honestly hoped to see. Scratching the back of his neck, his eyes glared at the fresh corpse in front of them. If the body was still fresh, did that mean that the killer was still here with them? So many questions rang through Michael's mind, and his heart began to race. Trying to calculate a course of action to take them away from this place, Michael opened his mouth to say something to Scott, when -

Snap.

A twig snapped somewhere in the woods, behind them. Without even thinking, Michael took a running start towards his friend and tossed himself towards the still-hunched over kid, screaming a warning out before the other boy even had a chance to react.

"Scotty, look out!"

As Michael jumped towards Scott and pushed his friend out of the way, a hail of bullets came flying out of the woods, the sound seeming as though it were coming from some sort of rapid-fire weapon, likely with poor aim. Michael figured that it sounded like an Uzi.

The aim, of course, wasn't as bad as Michael had surmised it to be, as one of the bullets (two, actually, for he didn't even feel the second one hit him) hit him in the small of his back, skimming his spinal column and effectively paralyzing the boy from the waist down. Crying out in what was effectively surprise, the boy that the baseball team called 'Klepto' hit the dirt hard, not even feeling the second bullet lodge itself in his leg. All feelings were cut off from his legs, and immediately, Mike knew one very important fact: he was fucked. Looking at Scott, who was looking surprised and afraid all at the same time, Michael hit his friend in the shoulder, which caused the boy to look right at him, and gave him the only piece of advice that he possibly could.

"Run, Scott. Get the fuck out of here, now!"

Of course, as Scott realized that running was exactly what he should be doing at this point in time, and he finally picked himself up and turned to run away, he made one very fatal mistake. He glanced back at Michael and then turned to look into the woods before he began to run. As he turned his head, he exposed himself, so much so that an expert shooter wouldn't have any trouble at all firing at least one shot into his body, and of course, as the one bullet flew out of the woods and caught him in the throat, that was exactly what happened. Looking on in horror, the paralyzed Michael Suarez watched as Scott Jameson dropped to the ground beside him, a large wound right through Scott's throat, and heard the horrible gurgling sounds that accompanied Scott trying to breathe through the mangled wreck that was formerly his neck. As the blood poured out of the wound, Scott gurgled again, looking at Michael with tears in his eyes. Mike couldn't help but look away. Finally, Scott gurgled one more time, and seemed to sigh a little. After that, Scott didn't gurgle anymore.

Now that Scott was dead and Michael was truly on his own, he could only hope that somehow, the mystery assailant would pass by, thinking that they'd managed to shoot him down and kill him like he'd killed Scott. Of course, hearing a rustling from the bushes only caused his fears to leap in horrible anticipation for what would come next.

As Angelina Kaige emerged from the bushes, pistol in one hand and Uzi hanging from her other shoulder, she had a grim look of satisfaction on her face. Shooting the small kid in the neck had been, at least from her angle, a difficult shot, and she'd managed to prove to herself that she still had the very same precision aiming skills that she'd used to win a second-place ribbon in an army competition - an admirable feat for a twelve-year old girl.

Of course, that was never good enough for dear old daddy, and he beat me for the rest of the week for not finishing first. The fuck was he expecting of me? I was twelve, and the rest of them were grown men? Jesus. Am I only now realizing how much of an asshole my father was?

Shaking her head and removing the temporary distraction from her mind, Kaige wandered out of the bushes and over to the fallen boy; the one that she'd shot in the throat. He was quite dead, and to that, Kaige was glad. That meant that at least one out of two was gone on the first shot. Smirking to herself, she moved over to the other boy, and frowned.

You've got to be absolutely fucking KIDDING me...

Looking down, Kaige rolled her eyes to no one in particular. It seemed that this particular boy had indeed been shot, but somehow was managing to block out the pain and was actually attempting to play dead. It wasn't enough that the telltale rise and fall of his chest was completely giving him away, but his eyes were clenched so tight that Kaige could actually see his skin twitching at the pressure. Thinking for a moment, Kaige had an idea. It was a twisted and sick idea, but it was a good one nonetheless. Moving over to the other body, she aimed her pistol at the forehead and pulled the trigger, firing a round into the corpse's forehead. Quickly, she pressed the side of the gun to the faker's face, the hot magazine burning his skin, causing the boy to let out an agonizing scream. Opening his eyes, he gingerly touched the burnt side of his face and looked up at Kaige with a look of utter dismay and pain. Smiling as she inflicted the pain upon the boy, she walked around and kicked him in the leg.

Here's where I have some fucking FUN...

Of course, as Michael didn't react to the kick, Kaige sensed something was amiss. Aiming another kick to his legs, when he didn't react, Kaige's eyes went wide with disappointment. In her haste to shoot at the two, she'd inadvertantly paralyzed this one. Frowning, and mouthing the word 'fuck', she picked up her pistol and shot him in the genitals. Michael's eyes, of course went wide at this, but when the pain didn't come, he felt like crying.

Kaige, of course, was mad at herself for a completely different reason.

This is fucking ridiculous. How the hell could I have paralyzed him? Shit. Unbelievable. There aren't that many guys left on the island, and not too many that aren't, maybe twelve. If I'm getting to endgame, I cannot let my current state mess with me...

Cursing to herself, Kaige realized that something would have to be done, or her biggest weakness, her achilles heel would probably be the death of her. It had started back when she'd been in the military, a few years ago. Her squad had gone on a routine operation that had essentially turned into a bloodbath. With each soldier that she'd killed (and there'd been many), Kaige had realized that she got increasingly more and more sexually aroused. This, unfortunately, had the side effect of making her less aware of her surroundings and more caught up in her own emotions. Essentially, killing was her aphrodisiac. She'd had sex with a few of the men in her platoon, and it seemed that it was really the only thing that helped - rough, hard, sex. She hated to admit it, and she swore those men to secrecy (not that it had really mattered, for her unit was massacred the following month), because such a disadvantage was horribly inconvienient. Especially now, when she was essentially by herself. Masturbation hadn't helped her at all, which was again something that added to the aggravation of it all.

Cursing in her own mind again, Kaige looked down at the other boy, who looked rather uncomfortable, probably feeling the blood escaping his body through the gaping hole in his genatalia. Feeling impatient, Kaige raised her pistol and with the click of a button, fired a bullet that blew Michael Suarez's jaw clean off. With only a squeak of pain and protest, Michael too managed to gurgle, and then die. Shutting her eyes for a second, and feeling even more of a haze settle down over her, Kaige looked up at the sky, and shook her head.

What a fucking handicap. I'll just have to kill the others as soon as possible to get out of this hell-hole, because I'll be damned if I'm ever going to fuck Rice. Ick.

Internally revulsed at the thought, Kaige shouldered her Uzi and walked purposefully back into the forest from whenst she came, leaving only death and destruction at the lighthouse - a place that seemed to welcome it.

---

Anyone who was still groggy or almost asleep by the time the clip started was instantly woken up by the amount of noise, riveted by the disturbing events on the television. One or two people actually vomited from the sight (especially the Puerto Rican baseball player being shot in the genitals and then having his jaw blown off), there were cries of "Oh my God!", "What the fuck is going on here?!" and the like, and some instances where kids, knowing what was happening, simply started to sob. There were only a few who were silent and calm. As soon as the clip ended, the lights flared up, and the students saw the person before them in all his 6'3", scarred, brutal glory. Former boxer, Marine and Principal of Bathurst High School, Steven Wilson, was right in front of them, though wearing different clothes and sunglasses.

"It can't be!"

"What's going on here?!"

"Why's the Principal here?"

"What kind of sick joke is this?!"

Again, the crowd of students was full of questions, and Wilson just looked on neutrally, as he always did.

"SHUT UP!" he finally shouted, shocking the students into silence as his voice boomed through the room just barely big enough to hold them all in. Surprised, they looked at him dumbly as he cracked a rare grin and started to pace the room.

"Canis Canem Edit," he said, looking to the students, "Do any of you know what that means, or are you all too stupid from spending your entire school lives fucking and fighting to have learned anything?" he finally asked, turning to face the students. There was a short period of stunned, frightened silence before one child, the true definition of a "nerd" if there ever was one in perfect fitting pants, a wollen jumper and large glasses, stood up, his hand raised.

"Yes?" Wilson asked, pointing to the nerd.

"It...it's Latin sir. Latin for...'Dog Eat Dog'." the nerd said. Wilson grinned at this, whether from a student at Bathurst finally (in his opinion) showing both nerve and intelligence or just plain sadistically grinning was unknown to the kids.

"Good. Excellent work." he said, before suddenly whipping out a Beretta 9mm pistol and firing it, hitting the nerd right between the eyes and causing the nerd's head to nearly explode, sending blood, bone, brain matter and one of his eyeballs flying all over the room, causing the students to scream and fall back, the few who didn't scream still backing away to avoid provoking him.

"Dog Eat Dog is right, my 'friends'!" Steven Wilson continued to say, holstering the gun and allowing the grin to fade off his face, "Also known as Survival of the Fittest. Darwinism. The strong, those who can adapt, survive, the weak and those who cannot...die! Mr. Gilsin over there was too weak to live, I did him a favor. Welcome, little warriors, to the fourth Survival of the Fittest program!" when he finished saying this, there were no words, no gasps, only silence and the occasional resigned sobbing. They were most likely all going to die, and they knew it.

"I am sure you all know the rules, Lord knows you little bastards probably got off on last year's Program. For those who didn't, or were too stupid to catch on, they are quite simple. Kill everyone else. Kill... until only you are left. You do not have a time limit, but if twenty four hours pass without a death..." he seemed to have forgotten something just then, and stopped, "...Oh, right! Let me redirect your attention to those red bands on your neck. They look beautiful, don't they?" those who looked around to see the bands around the necks of themselves and their classmates would notice thin strips wrapped around the center of one's neck, about at the Adam's Apple. The design was a beautiful dark red with an intricate black design. The tribal design resembled avian barbwire, vaguely like a horned creature with two sharp points jutting upwards to form wings. What seemed to be the beak swooped downwards like a hook. It was indeed pleasing to the eye, and some did not notice that they were their new collars, a few even touched them, awestruck.

"Ah, but don't touch them!" Wilson again interjected, "Those, my friends, are your new collars. They're just as deadly as v1's, though prettier and a... bit more painful to remove." knowing how the collars performed in the previous Program, the kids quickly retracted their hands. "That's better." Wilson said, nodding. "Anyway, if there are no deaths in twenty-four hours, all of those collars will explode...I think you know how that would end. Allow me to demonstrate..." after saying this, he reached for a radio on his belt, "Bring them in." he ordered.

As soon as he said that, four people came through the door, two very heavily armed guards, and two females. Upon closer examination, the females were Ms. Gussie and Mrs. Rowena, the tenth grade teachers who'd been at the seminar. They had the same collars on that the kids did, and they looked... frightened. Without a word, Wilson picked something up off the desk, it looked like a laser pointer, and pointed it at the collars after both he and the guards stood back. Quickly pressing a button, a red laser went from the remote, straight to Gussie's collar, then Rowena's. An ominous beeping sound filled the air, recognizeable by anyone who saw the previous Program. As the beeping picked up pace, the teachers started to panic as the kids looked on resignedly, knowing what would happen. Screaming for help, the two teachers started to run, Gussie even started to pull at the collar. After only a few seconds, that felt much longer, there were two explosions, as both the collars and necks of Ms. Gussie and Mrs. Rowena exploded, sending blood all over the room.

"Such a fate will await you if that happens, or if you are caught in a Forbidden Zone. You know what those are, I know. At the start of every day, there will be an announcement. Not only will we tell you who is dead and alive there, but what zones are forbidden or not. Pay attention to these, kids, your life literally depends on it." Wilson said, wiping some blood off his red shirt and his pants. "Just so you know, for security purposes this room will be gassed again the instant I leave. When you wake up, you will find a pack, inside will be your assigned weapon, some food, and some personal effects, with the exceptions of things like laptops and extra weapons. You'll also find a handbook written by Danya himself, read it if you know what is best for yourself. Fight well, kids." and with that, he and his guards left the room, the room instantly being filled with sleeping gas just as he promised.

And with that, their fight for survival would begin.

((Written by Slayer))