“Buddy Underwood.”
And there they were. The bells. The death-knell. The now inescapable fact that he had been slated to death for the supposed good of the country. Admittedly, he’d expected it. As much as he was hoping, as much as he figured that they wouldn’t call the name of everyone in the auditorium, he supposed that there wasn’t really a ton to it. The dice were big, the people were low, so it was only natural that the odds wouldn’t be in his favour, that he would be one of the ones called, ushered out of the auditorium to meet their certain doom. Because of that he made his peace early, filled in the pit that had opened up in his chest, made sure that when his name was eventually called he wouldn’t be screaming and crying like he imagined some of the other people here would do.
And hey, look on the bright side.
At least he wouldn’t have to do finals now.
And he wouldn’t really have to worry all that much about his future, now. Like, yeah, doing the costume gig paid good enough, but that wasn’t really good enough, that wasn’t something that Buddy could do for the rest of his days. He wanted - he needed to hit it big, and that wasn’t something he could really guarantee himself. Because yeah, he had the skill, and yeah, he had the resume, but that didn’t matter in the big world. Getting noticed, finding your way out of the underground did, and if he didn’t, if he wasn’t able to become one of the big guys, then that was it. A whole life of trying gone to the dogs.
So he supposed that was one upside to the whole ‘being slated to near-certain death’ situation he found himself in.
At least he wouldn’t have to worry.
Well.
Not for a while, at least.
So when he heard that name, when that certain got a stamp on it, he sat there.
Only for a second, though. He got up. Walked. Left without looking back.
There were no words.
None were needed.
Ain’t no point in making a show.
A Beginning...
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 741
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
"This Program will be fought by the students of National Summit Academy in Denver, Colorado. The senior grade has been chosen."
Up until the General spoke those words, Mo had been certain of his safety.
Everyone always freaked out like they were going to be next on Announcement Day, but it really wasn’t that likely. In the grand scheme of things, very few people were ever actually selected, and most people would just go on with their lives. Self-assured, he planned going to go into school calm, cool, and collected.
What’re the odds?
Now, his fingers dug into his seat as he watched as his classmates being called up, one-by-one.
More than usual? How many more? Mo thought to himself. There’s still a chance. They aren’t going to take everyone, right? He tried to reassure himself, he needed to. Mo had spent the past six years making sure he wouldn’t be a victim again, and now all of that might be stolen from him.
As the selection kept going and going for what felt like an eternity to the young athlete, it did start to seem like he might get out of this one. But then, of course…
“…Muhammad Abbasi.”
Mo meant to stand up, but he couldn’t move his legs. His stomach churned and he felt like he was going to be sick. It felt as though the whole auditorium was staring at him, their eyes boring holes into the back of his head. His right arm trembled slightly as he forced himself to stand.
What’re the odds?
As he rose to his feet, Mo quickly glanced around him. Everyone was watching, of course they were. In his current state of mind, he had difficulty telling them all apart. Friends, acquaintances, and strangers all blended together to form a sea of eyes waiting on his next move.
The young athlete took a deep breath. Letting them see your fear will just put a bigger target on your back, he reminded himself. Working his hardest to not betray that he was scared shitless, Mo started to make his way down to the front with a confident stride.
He had been foolish that he would be spared today. It wasn’t safe to be Muhammad Abbasi. It never had been.
Up until the General spoke those words, Mo had been certain of his safety.
Everyone always freaked out like they were going to be next on Announcement Day, but it really wasn’t that likely. In the grand scheme of things, very few people were ever actually selected, and most people would just go on with their lives. Self-assured, he planned going to go into school calm, cool, and collected.
What’re the odds?
Now, his fingers dug into his seat as he watched as his classmates being called up, one-by-one.
More than usual? How many more? Mo thought to himself. There’s still a chance. They aren’t going to take everyone, right? He tried to reassure himself, he needed to. Mo had spent the past six years making sure he wouldn’t be a victim again, and now all of that might be stolen from him.
As the selection kept going and going for what felt like an eternity to the young athlete, it did start to seem like he might get out of this one. But then, of course…
“…Muhammad Abbasi.”
Mo meant to stand up, but he couldn’t move his legs. His stomach churned and he felt like he was going to be sick. It felt as though the whole auditorium was staring at him, their eyes boring holes into the back of his head. His right arm trembled slightly as he forced himself to stand.
What’re the odds?
As he rose to his feet, Mo quickly glanced around him. Everyone was watching, of course they were. In his current state of mind, he had difficulty telling them all apart. Friends, acquaintances, and strangers all blended together to form a sea of eyes waiting on his next move.
The young athlete took a deep breath. Letting them see your fear will just put a bigger target on your back, he reminded himself. Working his hardest to not betray that he was scared shitless, Mo started to make his way down to the front with a confident stride.
He had been foolish that he would be spared today. It wasn’t safe to be Muhammad Abbasi. It never had been.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 896
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Damien was trying to keep himself in a positive state. He couldn't be seen as if he was afraid of what was happening to his classmates around him. To be fair, he was actually scared out of his wits on the inside. Although, his father would tell him to suck it up and look toward his future. Which was obviously going to be death. Damien couldn't even deny that. He had no future that he could speak of. He wished that things could have gone differently for him as he was growing up. Sometimes he wished that he had parents who weren't so controlling over his life.
"Damien Crossly..."
And there was his name, being called out to his doom. He knew that he wouldn't be coming back home. He was going to a dead end future. There was no turning back for him.
He could only step forward.
To The Program.
"Damien Crossly..."
And there was his name, being called out to his doom. He knew that he wouldn't be coming back home. He was going to a dead end future. There was no turning back for him.
He could only step forward.
To The Program.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 741
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Conner Raimes couldn't remember a time in his life when he had been lucky. Anything good in his life had to be fought for and earned. It was a lesson he'd learned through the years, both in school and at home.
Now, after being held back a year, he was a 19 year old senior and seemed like he might finally escape from the long cycle of failure that had dominated his life up until that point. By this point, Conner knew that the other shoe was set to drop at any moment, but he hadn't expected that it'd be the Program that'd do him in.
Almost as soon as the announcement came over that they'd be selecting students from National Summit, it seemed all but inevitable that he'd be hearing his name soon.
It took longer than expected, but eventually he heard the voice call out,
"...Conner Raimes"
With a sigh, the cynical young man rose up from his seat. Nothing good ever gets done unless you bite and you scratch and you claw your way to doing it.
Still, Conner had to wonder if he had it in him to fight the way he was going to have to. Whether he had it in him to kill.
Regardless, the answer would be clear to everyone soon enough.
Now, after being held back a year, he was a 19 year old senior and seemed like he might finally escape from the long cycle of failure that had dominated his life up until that point. By this point, Conner knew that the other shoe was set to drop at any moment, but he hadn't expected that it'd be the Program that'd do him in.
Almost as soon as the announcement came over that they'd be selecting students from National Summit, it seemed all but inevitable that he'd be hearing his name soon.
It took longer than expected, but eventually he heard the voice call out,
"...Conner Raimes"
With a sigh, the cynical young man rose up from his seat. Nothing good ever gets done unless you bite and you scratch and you claw your way to doing it.
Still, Conner had to wonder if he had it in him to fight the way he was going to have to. Whether he had it in him to kill.
Regardless, the answer would be clear to everyone soon enough.
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
"... Morgan Light"
She hadn't been much paying attention to who was being called among her classmates. She scarcely realized her own name had been called. She furrowed her brow in confusion. What could they have chosen her for? It wasn't like she was any sort of interesting, just a quiet girl living a quiet life.
It occurred to her before she rose from her seat that her plain unassuming nature might be exactly why she was chosen. She was most likely meant to die. She wasn't apathetic, but she knew that was how she came across.
Apathy is death in America. Only true Patriots deserve a good life. She knew that, but she still couldn't bring herself to comprehend why things were that way.
She rose from her seat, Morgan looking with a grim face into her eyes. She didn't say anything to him, didn't acknowledge that this might very well be the last time they saw each other.
She strode forward with all the emotional fervor of the robot that so many people called her behind her back. Cold, precise, mechanical movements.
Apathy is death.
She never really felt alive.
Maybe she was born to be chosen. Born just to be placed in the program and die.
The Program...
If she really was a robot like everyone said, the name was weirdly appropriate in her case. Maybe she'd find her own program for life there. Or just be dismantled.
She blinked.
No emotion on her face. Not a single sign of any of this affecting her.
Apathy is death.
Death is just what followed life. That's the way the world was programmed.
She moved forward ever closer to her impending fate.
There was still nothing driving her.
She hadn't been much paying attention to who was being called among her classmates. She scarcely realized her own name had been called. She furrowed her brow in confusion. What could they have chosen her for? It wasn't like she was any sort of interesting, just a quiet girl living a quiet life.
It occurred to her before she rose from her seat that her plain unassuming nature might be exactly why she was chosen. She was most likely meant to die. She wasn't apathetic, but she knew that was how she came across.
Apathy is death in America. Only true Patriots deserve a good life. She knew that, but she still couldn't bring herself to comprehend why things were that way.
She rose from her seat, Morgan looking with a grim face into her eyes. She didn't say anything to him, didn't acknowledge that this might very well be the last time they saw each other.
She strode forward with all the emotional fervor of the robot that so many people called her behind her back. Cold, precise, mechanical movements.
Apathy is death.
She never really felt alive.
Maybe she was born to be chosen. Born just to be placed in the program and die.
The Program...
If she really was a robot like everyone said, the name was weirdly appropriate in her case. Maybe she'd find her own program for life there. Or just be dismantled.
She blinked.
No emotion on her face. Not a single sign of any of this affecting her.
Apathy is death.
Death is just what followed life. That's the way the world was programmed.
She moved forward ever closer to her impending fate.
There was still nothing driving her.
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 741
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
“…Nathan Kirchhoff”
Nathan’s entire body jerked to attention at the sound of his name. His immediate instinct was to burst from his seat and try to run. Maybe if he moved quickly enough, he would be out of the auditorium before anyone could react. Then he’d run as fast as his legs could carry him – he was a pretty good runner, by-the-by – until he got home. They wouldn’t stop everything just to find one kid, would they?
In an instant, he envisioned a life on the run. His family would help him if he went to them, they’d hide him. His parents had the money to get him out of the country, to South America, and he’d have a new life, a new name. Maybe he’d even end up-
A gentle nudge from the student to his right launched him from his seat, leaving him standing stiffly upright. He felt a rage bubble up within him directed at whoever had exposed him. His gut told him that they’d blown his chance, that they’d damned him to a painful death at the hands of his classmates.
However, when he turned to face the bastard who’d sealed his fate, what he saw was a small, scrawny, nerdy-looking kid. He felt vaguely familiar to Nathan.
What was his name? Dennis? Something like that? Nathan wasn’t sure. Where did he even know this pitiful-looking loser from? In the end, it didn't really matter. The moment was gone and the rage had died out, leaving fear to return in its place.
Slowly and unsteadily, Nathan made his way forward.
Any fantasies of escape now felt miles away.
Nathan’s entire body jerked to attention at the sound of his name. His immediate instinct was to burst from his seat and try to run. Maybe if he moved quickly enough, he would be out of the auditorium before anyone could react. Then he’d run as fast as his legs could carry him – he was a pretty good runner, by-the-by – until he got home. They wouldn’t stop everything just to find one kid, would they?
In an instant, he envisioned a life on the run. His family would help him if he went to them, they’d hide him. His parents had the money to get him out of the country, to South America, and he’d have a new life, a new name. Maybe he’d even end up-
A gentle nudge from the student to his right launched him from his seat, leaving him standing stiffly upright. He felt a rage bubble up within him directed at whoever had exposed him. His gut told him that they’d blown his chance, that they’d damned him to a painful death at the hands of his classmates.
However, when he turned to face the bastard who’d sealed his fate, what he saw was a small, scrawny, nerdy-looking kid. He felt vaguely familiar to Nathan.
What was his name? Dennis? Something like that? Nathan wasn’t sure. Where did he even know this pitiful-looking loser from? In the end, it didn't really matter. The moment was gone and the rage had died out, leaving fear to return in its place.
Slowly and unsteadily, Nathan made his way forward.
Any fantasies of escape now felt miles away.
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UnmaskedMountain
- Posts: 33
- Joined: Wed Apr 29, 2020 7:04 pm
Bianca Cantrell was irate.
Moving here had been a mistake from the initial idea, and yet her idiotic parents had decided to ruin her life. Once her school was selected from the programme, Bianca had known that she was most likely going to be chosen.
She couldn't comprehend why her family had even done it - They were wealthy enough in Alaska, and more importantly, she had been happy there, a privilege she couldn't claim to own currently. She'd had a boyfriend, a part time job, good enough grades and a hopeful future that was now thrust into disarray. She counted in her mind how many people hd been called. Back in Alaska, she'd seen the propaganda as something funny, as Alaskan schools hadn't competed in the Programme for years. other. Not anymore, now she experienced it she just felt hollow. She wasn't a patriot, hell, she wasn't even fully American . Her parents had convinced her she'd never be chosen, but if so, why had her school been announced?
It was fine, though. Luckily for her, she was one of the newest students in the class and thus would have less qualms about killing her classmates. No, she was not going to murder if she didn't absolutely have to, but she felt glad that her friend circle was pretty small and if she did end up slaughtering someone, it would most likely just be a mere acquaintence.
Despite that, it seemed like the announcer was getting to the end of the selection list, and for a brief second, Bianca almost allowed herself to believe in the fantasy that she might be one of the blissful students that would remain unselected in this awful, goddamn programme. Yes, she nodded to herself, the list would have to end soon and thus her chances were getting slimmer by the name. Still, every time the General opened his mouth, Bianca shivered slightly.
More names were called, and she lost count. Every future victim that was called should've brought her misery, as she knew people who would ultimately end up sacrifices in this game. She tried to wince, but she was rejoicing internally - Better them than her.
"...Bianca Cantrell."
Bianca screamed. She didn't know for how long, it was probably only mere seconds, but she released all her agony in that long, piercing cry. Her survival instincts kicked in, pleading her to run and escape from her fate, but she knew that would only guarantee her death. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her weep, but she couldn't hold back tears. She couldn't delude anyone, she wasn't a hero, she was a inmate on death row.
Bianca shakily stood up, glaring fiercely at her fellow unchosen classmates. How was it fair that they, those worthless fools, remained alive when the great Bianca Cantrell was forced into this demonic game.
As she walked forward, she knew her likelihood of return was miniscule. She was as good as dead.
Bianca Cantrell was irate.
Moving here had been a mistake from the initial idea, and yet her idiotic parents had decided to ruin her life. Once her school was selected from the programme, Bianca had known that she was most likely going to be chosen.
She couldn't comprehend why her family had even done it - They were wealthy enough in Alaska, and more importantly, she had been happy there, a privilege she couldn't claim to own currently. She'd had a boyfriend, a part time job, good enough grades and a hopeful future that was now thrust into disarray. She counted in her mind how many people hd been called. Back in Alaska, she'd seen the propaganda as something funny, as Alaskan schools hadn't competed in the Programme for years. other. Not anymore, now she experienced it she just felt hollow. She wasn't a patriot, hell, she wasn't even fully American . Her parents had convinced her she'd never be chosen, but if so, why had her school been announced?
It was fine, though. Luckily for her, she was one of the newest students in the class and thus would have less qualms about killing her classmates. No, she was not going to murder if she didn't absolutely have to, but she felt glad that her friend circle was pretty small and if she did end up slaughtering someone, it would most likely just be a mere acquaintence.
Despite that, it seemed like the announcer was getting to the end of the selection list, and for a brief second, Bianca almost allowed herself to believe in the fantasy that she might be one of the blissful students that would remain unselected in this awful, goddamn programme. Yes, she nodded to herself, the list would have to end soon and thus her chances were getting slimmer by the name. Still, every time the General opened his mouth, Bianca shivered slightly.
More names were called, and she lost count. Every future victim that was called should've brought her misery, as she knew people who would ultimately end up sacrifices in this game. She tried to wince, but she was rejoicing internally - Better them than her.
"...Bianca Cantrell."
Bianca screamed. She didn't know for how long, it was probably only mere seconds, but she released all her agony in that long, piercing cry. Her survival instincts kicked in, pleading her to run and escape from her fate, but she knew that would only guarantee her death. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her weep, but she couldn't hold back tears. She couldn't delude anyone, she wasn't a hero, she was a inmate on death row.
Bianca shakily stood up, glaring fiercely at her fellow unchosen classmates. How was it fair that they, those worthless fools, remained alive when the great Bianca Cantrell was forced into this demonic game.
As she walked forward, she knew her likelihood of return was miniscule. She was as good as dead.
Bianca Cantrell was irate.
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Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Morgan wasn’t a very hopeful young man at the best of times; after all, you try making a bed and setting it on fire before lying in it, and see how positive your worldview ends up being. But as he sat there, shoulder to shoulder with his peers and enemies, hands gripping his knees in a position that felt shockingly familiar, he realised he was hoping for an awful lot.
The main thing he hoped for was, obviously, that his name wasn’t called. That was, y’know, all he really needed out of all of this. But even though the reason for his name to escape the list didn’t matter in the slightest, at the end of the day, his mind couldn’t help but spiral off into fantasies of how he’d luck out of being chosen for the Program.
Maybe they’d take pity on him, this sad little boy with less than a handful of friends. Maybe the opposite was true, and he was such a good patriot that he didn’t need to prove himself in The General’s Arena of Death. Or that they couldn’t bear to risk his life, lest he lose it to some un-American scum. Whatever that was supposed to mean. Or, maybe, after the dating Morgans had already been escorted out of the room and onto the bus outside, they figured that was enough, and they didn’t need another Morgan to make things confusing.
"Morgan Jones."
Yeah, fat chance of that. Considering how that hadn’t worked for the Scotts, he hadn’t really thought it’d work for him.
Morgan sighed, and stood up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. His heart was hammering, but on the outside, he presented a veneer of calm. Well, what else was he supposed to do? Throw a fit? A tantrum? Try and tackle one of the soliders and steal their gun and lead la revolucion? Call the General a cuck? All of the above?
Nah, all that’d get him was a bullet to his chest. Probably more. And, maybe that was the coward’s way, hoping desperately for one more day to live, even though he was going to die in less than a week anyway.
So, he was a coward, then. He could accept that.
As Morgan started to walk down the aisle towards the open door to the outside world, his hopes of not being selected long gone, more hopes began to spring up, before being quickly dashed in turn. He hoped that, at the very least, those few friends he still had remaining would be spared, but after a quick glance around the room, the only faces he saw were those of strangers or kids in other classes.
Then he hoped, almost ridiculously, that Collin would be sitting at the end of the line, looking up at him, just so that Morgan could say one final thing to him. But, of course, as Morgan passed by the final student and past the two armed guards flanking the doorway, he wasn’t there. He was back at home, locked up in his room. Probably past the point of caring about what happened to his younger brother by now. Morgan didn’t doubt that was the case. He stepped outside, and paused for a moment, his breath turning to fog in the cold air. Shoulda listened to his mom. Shoulda done a LOT of things differently. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. It was way too late for that now.
So as Morgan took his seat on the bus, and tried to block out the sounds of his classmates crying and whimpering and begging, he hoped for one last thing, probably the most unrealistic of them all. He hoped that, somehow, he’d manage to live through this whole thing.
And if that couldn’t happen, he hoped that everything would all be over quickly and painlessly.
The main thing he hoped for was, obviously, that his name wasn’t called. That was, y’know, all he really needed out of all of this. But even though the reason for his name to escape the list didn’t matter in the slightest, at the end of the day, his mind couldn’t help but spiral off into fantasies of how he’d luck out of being chosen for the Program.
Maybe they’d take pity on him, this sad little boy with less than a handful of friends. Maybe the opposite was true, and he was such a good patriot that he didn’t need to prove himself in The General’s Arena of Death. Or that they couldn’t bear to risk his life, lest he lose it to some un-American scum. Whatever that was supposed to mean. Or, maybe, after the dating Morgans had already been escorted out of the room and onto the bus outside, they figured that was enough, and they didn’t need another Morgan to make things confusing.
"Morgan Jones."
Yeah, fat chance of that. Considering how that hadn’t worked for the Scotts, he hadn’t really thought it’d work for him.
Morgan sighed, and stood up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. His heart was hammering, but on the outside, he presented a veneer of calm. Well, what else was he supposed to do? Throw a fit? A tantrum? Try and tackle one of the soliders and steal their gun and lead la revolucion? Call the General a cuck? All of the above?
Nah, all that’d get him was a bullet to his chest. Probably more. And, maybe that was the coward’s way, hoping desperately for one more day to live, even though he was going to die in less than a week anyway.
So, he was a coward, then. He could accept that.
As Morgan started to walk down the aisle towards the open door to the outside world, his hopes of not being selected long gone, more hopes began to spring up, before being quickly dashed in turn. He hoped that, at the very least, those few friends he still had remaining would be spared, but after a quick glance around the room, the only faces he saw were those of strangers or kids in other classes.
Then he hoped, almost ridiculously, that Collin would be sitting at the end of the line, looking up at him, just so that Morgan could say one final thing to him. But, of course, as Morgan passed by the final student and past the two armed guards flanking the doorway, he wasn’t there. He was back at home, locked up in his room. Probably past the point of caring about what happened to his younger brother by now. Morgan didn’t doubt that was the case. He stepped outside, and paused for a moment, his breath turning to fog in the cold air. Shoulda listened to his mom. Shoulda done a LOT of things differently. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. It was way too late for that now.
So as Morgan took his seat on the bus, and tried to block out the sounds of his classmates crying and whimpering and begging, he hoped for one last thing, probably the most unrealistic of them all. He hoped that, somehow, he’d manage to live through this whole thing.
And if that couldn’t happen, he hoped that everything would all be over quickly and painlessly.
Sylvia sat perfectly straight and perfectly still, doing the same thing she always did when Announcement Day came around.
She was imagining a taking of attendance. Every time, she imagined this, that the military officer was just a substitute teacher at the head of a class, roll calling students. And somewhere the students were raising their hands and saying "here" and once they said "here" they disappeared from her mind. There was a rhythm to it. There was no crying. The call and answer was all that mattered, and she wouldn't think about the students again until she decided it was time to watch the Program.
This time she didn't need to imagine so much. It was only in her head that she heard the "here"s in her classmates' voices, but it was real when they joined in and walked on cue. Her sweater felt far too warm, and her chest felt far too tight, but as long as it went on (and it was going on, and on) she had to listen.
When they called her name she almost raised her hand.
She found herself standing. She didn't remember getting up. She almost sat back down so she could get up again.
It didn't seem to matter so much anymore. She heard nothing, thought nothing. The whole world was right in front of her, one straight line to an open door.
So she walked. Call and answer. The fantasy was already falling apart - she knew what came next. But she felt like she had to, so she whispered to herself, "here."
She was imagining a taking of attendance. Every time, she imagined this, that the military officer was just a substitute teacher at the head of a class, roll calling students. And somewhere the students were raising their hands and saying "here" and once they said "here" they disappeared from her mind. There was a rhythm to it. There was no crying. The call and answer was all that mattered, and she wouldn't think about the students again until she decided it was time to watch the Program.
This time she didn't need to imagine so much. It was only in her head that she heard the "here"s in her classmates' voices, but it was real when they joined in and walked on cue. Her sweater felt far too warm, and her chest felt far too tight, but as long as it went on (and it was going on, and on) she had to listen.
When they called her name she almost raised her hand.
She found herself standing. She didn't remember getting up. She almost sat back down so she could get up again.
It didn't seem to matter so much anymore. She heard nothing, thought nothing. The whole world was right in front of her, one straight line to an open door.
So she walked. Call and answer. The fantasy was already falling apart - she knew what came next. But she felt like she had to, so she whispered to herself, "here."
This signature intentionally left blank.
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
As soon as the words "National Summit Academy" left the mouth of the general, Kate Sanderson felt the walls close in around her. Everything else in the room fell away in an instant, and for her, it felt as though everything and everyone else had vanished. Any murmurs, any frightened talk - it all vanished. All that remained in the hot, sticky auditorium was a large screen, and Kate herself.
This was quite literally all of her worst nightmares come true.
As the General read a list of names, all she could think of was to hope, and to pray that none of the names were hers. She didn't even believe in God, really. Her relationship with religion left a lot to be desired, especially by her parents and brothers. Hell, a lot of things about Kate were found wanting in the eyes of her family, however fair or untrue that was. She wasn't religious, didn't believe in the merits of the program, and couldn't fathom violence ever being the answer. Unpopular opinions for an unpopular girl.
"Ka..."
The world twisted in on Kate, as she heard the telltale syllables of her first name.
"...ssandra Vaitaki."
The black funnel that seemed to envelop her vision lessened. There was still a chance. Maybe the Program organizers wanted to ensure competition in their contest. Perhaps they wanted to insert people whom at least had a fighting chance. People who would relish the thrill of the hunt, who would embrace the violence.
That wasn't Kate.
Her breaths came in short, wheezy bursts, and she came to the sudden realization that she couldn't tell if she were hyperventilating or short of breath. Her entire body trembled near-uncontrollably. It was nearly a betrayal. She knew that there was but a bastion of hope, one single solitary ray. If her name wasn't called, she could go back to her quiet little existence, not doomed to be but a footnote in the history of the Program. Her gaze remained fixed on the mouth of the General, waiting to know if she'd won the lottery of the damned. Kate forced herself to blink, her eyes watering from the fact that she hadn't in minutes.
"Kathryn Sanderson."
The water turned to soundless tears. It was all over. Her mind went completely blank, and her body entered a state of hyper-focus. The people around her were looking around, most not really knowing who she was. Knowing that her mind was in a state of numb shock, her legs seemed to move on autopilot, and she slowly rose from her chair, making her way past the students in her row and out of the auditorium.
For the first time in her life, everyone was staring at her, and Kate barely noticed.
((Kate continued in Zombie))
This was quite literally all of her worst nightmares come true.
As the General read a list of names, all she could think of was to hope, and to pray that none of the names were hers. She didn't even believe in God, really. Her relationship with religion left a lot to be desired, especially by her parents and brothers. Hell, a lot of things about Kate were found wanting in the eyes of her family, however fair or untrue that was. She wasn't religious, didn't believe in the merits of the program, and couldn't fathom violence ever being the answer. Unpopular opinions for an unpopular girl.
"Ka..."
The world twisted in on Kate, as she heard the telltale syllables of her first name.
"...ssandra Vaitaki."
The black funnel that seemed to envelop her vision lessened. There was still a chance. Maybe the Program organizers wanted to ensure competition in their contest. Perhaps they wanted to insert people whom at least had a fighting chance. People who would relish the thrill of the hunt, who would embrace the violence.
That wasn't Kate.
Her breaths came in short, wheezy bursts, and she came to the sudden realization that she couldn't tell if she were hyperventilating or short of breath. Her entire body trembled near-uncontrollably. It was nearly a betrayal. She knew that there was but a bastion of hope, one single solitary ray. If her name wasn't called, she could go back to her quiet little existence, not doomed to be but a footnote in the history of the Program. Her gaze remained fixed on the mouth of the General, waiting to know if she'd won the lottery of the damned. Kate forced herself to blink, her eyes watering from the fact that she hadn't in minutes.
"Kathryn Sanderson."
The water turned to soundless tears. It was all over. Her mind went completely blank, and her body entered a state of hyper-focus. The people around her were looking around, most not really knowing who she was. Knowing that her mind was in a state of numb shock, her legs seemed to move on autopilot, and she slowly rose from her chair, making her way past the students in her row and out of the auditorium.
For the first time in her life, everyone was staring at her, and Kate barely noticed.
((Kate continued in Zombie))
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
"Larry Rosenberg."
Jumping from his seat with a fist-pump, Larry looked around at all of his fellow classmates in the auditorium. Some were still in shock, some were as pale as the sky was white and gloomy. But for Larry? This was a spectacular day. One he'd been waiting for, as far back as he could remember. This was something he was born for. Pointing fingers around as he hooted and hollered his way down the row, he pointed at friends, shooting a few thumbs-ups, and to a few select people, he turned that thumbs-up into a finger gun.
"See all you fuckers out there! Yee-haw!"
Running down the side hall, he jumped in glee as he exited the auditorium, his excitement only restrained by the soldiers who gave him a glare as he left.
This game was his to win.
---
"What an asshole."
William Apgar - Willy to those who knew him best, couldn't help but roll his eyes at the obnoxious exit of his classmate Larry. A typical mouth-breather, Larry was well-known to be one of those obnoxious kids who got up in everyone's business and ran his mouth every chance he got. Not someone Willy cared to associate with. Shaking his head at the loud exit, he glanced at his pal Mitch sitting beside him, lightly patting his leg.
His pal. As far as anyone knew, at least. In this day and age, some things were best left unstated. Publically, at least.
"This'll all be over soon, man."
Mitch looked terrified - he handled stress about as poorly as one could, but Willy was more of a cool-hand Luke type of guy (at least, that's what his father always said). He took things in stride, and while he held a lot more moderate views than what was popular in society, he still managed to move his way through life doing relatively well for himself. He was a chameleon, in more ways than he cared to admit, and so his exterior held a calm smile.
"William Apgar."
The smile faltered for a moment, but he caught himself and shrugged as he stood up. Mitch looked as though he were about to pass out beside him as the tears started to come. Grasping his friend's shoulder, he squeezed it reassuringly. This was the worst kind of news for him, but maybe Mitch would get lucky. They didn't select everyone, after all.
"It's okay. It's gonna be okay."
Removing his hand from Mitch's shoulder, he walked past the boy, cracking his neck as he reached the aisle. Did he owe him a little bit more than a reassuring pat on the shoulder? Probably, but that wasn't Willy's style. It wasn't like he was about to break out in a public display in the middle of the auditorium. He glanced around at his peers, many of whom were following him with their eyes.
As much as it pained him to do so, he didn't give anyone a second look back as he walked out of the auditorium and towards his destiny.
Jumping from his seat with a fist-pump, Larry looked around at all of his fellow classmates in the auditorium. Some were still in shock, some were as pale as the sky was white and gloomy. But for Larry? This was a spectacular day. One he'd been waiting for, as far back as he could remember. This was something he was born for. Pointing fingers around as he hooted and hollered his way down the row, he pointed at friends, shooting a few thumbs-ups, and to a few select people, he turned that thumbs-up into a finger gun.
"See all you fuckers out there! Yee-haw!"
Running down the side hall, he jumped in glee as he exited the auditorium, his excitement only restrained by the soldiers who gave him a glare as he left.
This game was his to win.
---
"What an asshole."
William Apgar - Willy to those who knew him best, couldn't help but roll his eyes at the obnoxious exit of his classmate Larry. A typical mouth-breather, Larry was well-known to be one of those obnoxious kids who got up in everyone's business and ran his mouth every chance he got. Not someone Willy cared to associate with. Shaking his head at the loud exit, he glanced at his pal Mitch sitting beside him, lightly patting his leg.
His pal. As far as anyone knew, at least. In this day and age, some things were best left unstated. Publically, at least.
"This'll all be over soon, man."
Mitch looked terrified - he handled stress about as poorly as one could, but Willy was more of a cool-hand Luke type of guy (at least, that's what his father always said). He took things in stride, and while he held a lot more moderate views than what was popular in society, he still managed to move his way through life doing relatively well for himself. He was a chameleon, in more ways than he cared to admit, and so his exterior held a calm smile.
"William Apgar."
The smile faltered for a moment, but he caught himself and shrugged as he stood up. Mitch looked as though he were about to pass out beside him as the tears started to come. Grasping his friend's shoulder, he squeezed it reassuringly. This was the worst kind of news for him, but maybe Mitch would get lucky. They didn't select everyone, after all.
"It's okay. It's gonna be okay."
Removing his hand from Mitch's shoulder, he walked past the boy, cracking his neck as he reached the aisle. Did he owe him a little bit more than a reassuring pat on the shoulder? Probably, but that wasn't Willy's style. It wasn't like he was about to break out in a public display in the middle of the auditorium. He glanced around at his peers, many of whom were following him with their eyes.
As much as it pained him to do so, he didn't give anyone a second look back as he walked out of the auditorium and towards his destiny.
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randomness
- Posts: 12
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 7:29 am
Of course it was her class.
It hadn't quite hit Diane when they had said National Summit earlier that morning, but by now more than enough time had passed and enough people had left for it to really sink in.
It was weird. The Program had seemed so distant before, a thing that happened to other schools, and Anouncement Day merely a solemn day to acknowledge the need for patriotism in these trying days. It wasn't supposed to be here, now, a swiftly oncoming train on the planned tracks of her life.
She had wanted this, or something like this. Some chance to prove herself, and here it was handed right before her. And all she-
Wait, maybe not?
They hadn't called her name yet.
Yet.
She already knew what she wanted to do. She was supposed to have months. Or years. And then she'd get a call up and she'd be ready to prove herself, prove how much harder she could work, how much she was willing to give for her country.
She couldn't do that dead.
But the announcement dragged on, Mina having set an example for those who were going to disrupt the thing, far too many people who needed cajoling by soildiers before they moved on. She could empathise perhaps, but sympathy was distant when all she wanted was to know whether or not she would be called, be added to the ranks of people marked for likely death. The people who had to be dragged across the room were the worst, was that really the best show of dissent they could muster?
"Diane Morales"
She relaxed, in relief or resignation she didn't know, and there was a brief moment of hesitation as she felt everyone's eyes upon her. But she steeled herself, striding down the hall, pausing only to make some slight reassuring gesture that she didn't feel to a friend. She made a slight salute at the camera, a movement somehow embarassing to do in front of all of America, and one that felt far too short when she pulled her hand back, but it was too late to regret anything.
Regrets could come later.
She knew what she had to do from this point on.
She tried to breathe, to calm herself as she boarded the bus, but her heart was still thumping far too fast for its own good. And one final nagging thought haning over her head.
They never do say what happens to winners, do they?
It hadn't quite hit Diane when they had said National Summit earlier that morning, but by now more than enough time had passed and enough people had left for it to really sink in.
It was weird. The Program had seemed so distant before, a thing that happened to other schools, and Anouncement Day merely a solemn day to acknowledge the need for patriotism in these trying days. It wasn't supposed to be here, now, a swiftly oncoming train on the planned tracks of her life.
She had wanted this, or something like this. Some chance to prove herself, and here it was handed right before her. And all she-
Wait, maybe not?
They hadn't called her name yet.
Yet.
She already knew what she wanted to do. She was supposed to have months. Or years. And then she'd get a call up and she'd be ready to prove herself, prove how much harder she could work, how much she was willing to give for her country.
She couldn't do that dead.
But the announcement dragged on, Mina having set an example for those who were going to disrupt the thing, far too many people who needed cajoling by soildiers before they moved on. She could empathise perhaps, but sympathy was distant when all she wanted was to know whether or not she would be called, be added to the ranks of people marked for likely death. The people who had to be dragged across the room were the worst, was that really the best show of dissent they could muster?
"Diane Morales"
She relaxed, in relief or resignation she didn't know, and there was a brief moment of hesitation as she felt everyone's eyes upon her. But she steeled herself, striding down the hall, pausing only to make some slight reassuring gesture that she didn't feel to a friend. She made a slight salute at the camera, a movement somehow embarassing to do in front of all of America, and one that felt far too short when she pulled her hand back, but it was too late to regret anything.
Regrets could come later.
She knew what she had to do from this point on.
She tried to breathe, to calm herself as she boarded the bus, but her heart was still thumping far too fast for its own good. And one final nagging thought haning over her head.
They never do say what happens to winners, do they?
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
Edward stared up at the screen nervously, and fiddled with his fingers. Announcement day, the day another class dies for their countries, and while he must admit it was a great way to invoke patriotism for America, it was a cruel way to do so. For him, once you get over the ‘justification’ of curbing delinquency and the patriotism, it really was just kids killing each other. It doused his fiery love for America with cold, sobering facts, and he never liked the day.
He’s attended Announcement Day many times before, and always in a distant, gloomy matter. He knew that every time he sat through them, he knew that somewhere far away, a entire group of children has been sentenced to death. There was no other way of saying it, even the child who won it are never seen again. Could they have killed the winner as well? Even if they didn’t the thought of a child seperated from their parents was heartbreaking, but unfortunately normal. Edward would spend the rest of this morning thinking of this batch, wondering what their thoughts and reactions would be.
“This Program will be fought by the students of National Summit Academy in Denver, Colorado. The senior grade has been chosen.
Edward’s already wide eyes widened even more, and he froze. Of all the schools in America, it had to be his, of all the grades, it had to be his. The far off horrors of The Program seemed to be looming closer to him. Now he would really experience the thing that he spent so much time thinking about.
Edward was sweating as classmates around him was chosen, and he was hyperventilating in his seat. He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t going to win it, that’s for sure. Just like The Program looming closer, so did his death. It was once a thing he thought about only at philosophy club, but now, it was just around the corner.
He was close to having a panic attack now. He could never take suspense well. If he was chosen, then tell him already! So many people were chosen before him, why couldn’t they just get it over it?
“.....Edward Taylor.”
Just like that, it seemed like his thoughts were answered. He thought it would make him lose that knot in his stomach, but it only made it tighter. Tighter, tighter...like someone wrapping a rope around him, making him unable to breathe. He saw black around his eyes, and he felt himself slipping out of his chair.
Had he done something wrong to deserve this? He did. He refused to follow his parents’ teaching, make his own path in life, a path that would earn him scorn. A lawyer, an amoral entity that desired money more than ethics, he wanted to become that. Maybe America decided to bring down true justice..
No. Edward gasped and took a deep breath. It was just luck. He was a boy, who loved his country and never thought of bringing harm to anyone, if it was retribution, then it should have been a more shoddy school, a more shoddy human being. He was just unlucky.
Marching to his death was something he never thought he’ll do, but it was too late, and he was as ready as he could be.
Edward got up from the chair, and put on a stoic expression, he walked over to the bus, and boarded it with few stumbles.
He’s attended Announcement Day many times before, and always in a distant, gloomy matter. He knew that every time he sat through them, he knew that somewhere far away, a entire group of children has been sentenced to death. There was no other way of saying it, even the child who won it are never seen again. Could they have killed the winner as well? Even if they didn’t the thought of a child seperated from their parents was heartbreaking, but unfortunately normal. Edward would spend the rest of this morning thinking of this batch, wondering what their thoughts and reactions would be.
“This Program will be fought by the students of National Summit Academy in Denver, Colorado. The senior grade has been chosen.
Edward’s already wide eyes widened even more, and he froze. Of all the schools in America, it had to be his, of all the grades, it had to be his. The far off horrors of The Program seemed to be looming closer to him. Now he would really experience the thing that he spent so much time thinking about.
Edward was sweating as classmates around him was chosen, and he was hyperventilating in his seat. He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t going to win it, that’s for sure. Just like The Program looming closer, so did his death. It was once a thing he thought about only at philosophy club, but now, it was just around the corner.
He was close to having a panic attack now. He could never take suspense well. If he was chosen, then tell him already! So many people were chosen before him, why couldn’t they just get it over it?
“.....Edward Taylor.”
Just like that, it seemed like his thoughts were answered. He thought it would make him lose that knot in his stomach, but it only made it tighter. Tighter, tighter...like someone wrapping a rope around him, making him unable to breathe. He saw black around his eyes, and he felt himself slipping out of his chair.
Had he done something wrong to deserve this? He did. He refused to follow his parents’ teaching, make his own path in life, a path that would earn him scorn. A lawyer, an amoral entity that desired money more than ethics, he wanted to become that. Maybe America decided to bring down true justice..
No. Edward gasped and took a deep breath. It was just luck. He was a boy, who loved his country and never thought of bringing harm to anyone, if it was retribution, then it should have been a more shoddy school, a more shoddy human being. He was just unlucky.
Marching to his death was something he never thought he’ll do, but it was too late, and he was as ready as he could be.
Edward got up from the chair, and put on a stoic expression, he walked over to the bus, and boarded it with few stumbles.
"Vanessa Carson."
Vanessa had been trying her best to ignore the announcements. It was a failure of an endeavor, as for every name that she didn't recognize, another would pop up that she was more familiar with, and memories of said person, no matter how vague, would start to fill her mind, followed by the realization that whoever they were, they would probably be dead soon.
Well, it would have been hard to ignore MIna in the first place, given how she reacted. Vanessa had always thought she was cool, which how she didn't care how people thought of her. She wished that they could have hung out more. Now it looked like they wouldn't get the chance.
But even if she had successfully detatched herself from the situation, there was no ignoring her own name. She stood up from her chair and maintained an unreadable expression. Just like that, she had reached a sharp, unwanted turn in her life. None of her goals or desires were taken into account. Her college plans, her chances at valedictorian, or even the upcoming physics test. None of those mattered now.
She was a smart, insightful student, and she knew that. But that was no longer important, not now. Now she was just another name belonging to an anonymous student being marched out of the classroom. It made her want to scream.
But she couldn't. All she could do was walk.
Vanessa had been trying her best to ignore the announcements. It was a failure of an endeavor, as for every name that she didn't recognize, another would pop up that she was more familiar with, and memories of said person, no matter how vague, would start to fill her mind, followed by the realization that whoever they were, they would probably be dead soon.
Well, it would have been hard to ignore MIna in the first place, given how she reacted. Vanessa had always thought she was cool, which how she didn't care how people thought of her. She wished that they could have hung out more. Now it looked like they wouldn't get the chance.
But even if she had successfully detatched herself from the situation, there was no ignoring her own name. She stood up from her chair and maintained an unreadable expression. Just like that, she had reached a sharp, unwanted turn in her life. None of her goals or desires were taken into account. Her college plans, her chances at valedictorian, or even the upcoming physics test. None of those mattered now.
She was a smart, insightful student, and she knew that. But that was no longer important, not now. Now she was just another name belonging to an anonymous student being marched out of the classroom. It made her want to scream.
But she couldn't. All she could do was walk.
"Grant Moore."
A little part of Grant flared up when he heard his name, but he kept his cool. He had to, didn't he? Wasn't going to let the last image his class had of him be of a fucking pussy, now was he? Nah, he was cool. So cool.
Grant stood up from his chair, half-cocked and ready to rumble. The door was right there, and he walked towards it. Every step forward made him nervous, but there wasn't any real reason. Why should he be? If he was going to be the hero his family told him they should all be for the country, then The Program was a part of that. What was the point of denying it? A lot of half-baked self-proclaimed heroes all talked the talk about how they'd be heroes for the country when they went to fight, but Grant knew it was all talk. Whenever the possibility of dying came up, they all shut the fuck up because that was apparently too scary for them.
Not Grant though - if you were really a hero, really ready to lay your life down for your country, then you knew you were going to die. You just had to. That was how it worked. Real heroes put their country above themselves, and Grant knew, beyond all reasonable doubt, that he was going to be a real hero.
And that meant, as he walked beyond the doorway and towards what awaited him, he would need to do his duty and take out as many of these non-American traitor fucks as he could.
A little part of Grant flared up when he heard his name, but he kept his cool. He had to, didn't he? Wasn't going to let the last image his class had of him be of a fucking pussy, now was he? Nah, he was cool. So cool.
Grant stood up from his chair, half-cocked and ready to rumble. The door was right there, and he walked towards it. Every step forward made him nervous, but there wasn't any real reason. Why should he be? If he was going to be the hero his family told him they should all be for the country, then The Program was a part of that. What was the point of denying it? A lot of half-baked self-proclaimed heroes all talked the talk about how they'd be heroes for the country when they went to fight, but Grant knew it was all talk. Whenever the possibility of dying came up, they all shut the fuck up because that was apparently too scary for them.
Not Grant though - if you were really a hero, really ready to lay your life down for your country, then you knew you were going to die. You just had to. That was how it worked. Real heroes put their country above themselves, and Grant knew, beyond all reasonable doubt, that he was going to be a real hero.
And that meant, as he walked beyond the doorway and towards what awaited him, he would need to do his duty and take out as many of these non-American traitor fucks as he could.
