Battle Royal(e) /ˌbætl̩ ɹɔɪˈæl/
Noun
A fight involving three or more individuals, teams, or factions; fought until one person, team, or faction is left standing.
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June 30, 2024 23:47
It was a hot and dark—and not to mention rather unremarkable—night in Bellevue, Washington. But this unremarkableness was easily overshadowed by the senior class of Birdiville High School. Or, at least, the writing club seemed to think so, seeing as they were headed on their triannual school-sponsored trip to Scratch Writing Camp, in the relatively small town of Scratch, California.
Marc Mangosen sat at the front of the bus, and he was relatively conflicted on such matters. On the one hand, he was happy to chaperone for his group of kids, especially considering he would be hosting the session this year. But on the other hand, it was draining to handle such a chaotic group of people. Sleep grasped at him, yet he knew he couldn't close his eyes, lest the bus catch on fire. Or something of a similar nature. He knew how his kids behaved.
The bus came to an abrupt halt, and Marc stood up, apprehensive. He approached the bus driver, who was clad in a confounding business suit even in the heat of the summer.
“What's going on?” Marc asked, sounding a bit pushier than he had intended.
“Routine engine inspection,” she grunted.
“Can't this happen later?” the man questioned anxiously. “My campers are really eager to get there before midnight, and it's been twelve hours of driving, and we're in the middle of nowhere and—”
“Not much we can do about it,” the bus driver dismissed, not sounding too sympathetic on her behalf. “This is mandatory.”
Marc huffed in disappointment and turned back to his seat, fumbling with the window. It was no use; the damn thing wouldn't budge, as if it were super glued shut, which absolutely sucked considering the temperature and humidity inside the bus. There would typically be a co-chaperone on the trip with him, but he hadn't had the fortune of obtaining one for this session, meaning there was nobody to turn to in order to pass the time.
As he stood up and turned to face his students to issue an announcement regarding the inconvenient circumstances of their delay, he noticed that the majority of them had drifted off to sleep at that point. He couldn't blame them; he was rather tired himself, but he couldn't shake off the creeping suspicion that something anomalous was in the air. Sleep was almost a foreign concept to many of his campers.
The man whirled around, stumbling back as he was met face-to-face with another man in a gas mask. Marc attempted to throw a punch, assuming there was no virtuous explanation to the man’s arrival, but found himself getting drowsy himself, so much so that he couldn't give much more than a feeble tap.
The last thing he could discern was the man grabbing him by the shoulders, before whatever chemical they used to induce sleep took over his senses completely.
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July 1, 2024 00:12
A person with short black hair and round, rimless glasses loomed over a desk, sorting through last minute paperwork and files. A handheld transceiver was wedged between their shoulder and their ear, and they seemed intently engaged in conversation with whoever was on the other end.
In the same room, a woman with bleached blonde hair was present, mindlessly spinning around on a swivel chair in the office. Her demeanor was a lot more nonchalant than the other worker in the room, but she was filled with just as much anticipation. They all were.
“We're getting ready to start in a few hours, Matty. Have you commandeered the vehicle yet?” the first worker inquired, not taking their eyes off the files they were sorting out.
“‘Course I have,” the man on the other end—Matty, presumably—said matter-of-factly. “Don't you worry, Finch. I'll get them here on time.”
“Good. Those months of planning better come into fruition.”
“Trust me, they will,” Matty said with a grin. He chuckled quietly in the driver’s seat, although the radio did not pick it up. The planning was just the beginning of the fun. “Now, I gotta hang up. I'm driving, and it'd be a terrible waste if they all died in a crash before even getting to their location.”
“I see,” Finch hummed, before putting the transceiver down. They looked at the woman next to them, whose chin was now resting on her hands on the desk.
“Right then, Hoax. Let's get ready to start.”
-
July 1, 2024 ??:??
As the campers awoke from their slumber, they'd quickly realize that they were not, in fact, at SWC, but rather in a moderately musty abandoned classroom. Everyone had been seated at an assigned desk for whatever reason, and in the front of the class stood three figures, as well as another figure tied to a chair—Marc Mangosen himself.
With what limited movement he had from his position, he twisted his neck around to look at the people who held him captive. He recognized one from the flannel alone—the man who took over the bus, although his face was no longer concealed by a gas mask. Worried clamoring filled the room, and Marc took it upon himself as the trusted adult to reassure his students, even from the position he was in.
“Guys, guys!” he shouted to overpower the many voices in the room. “Let's all calm down, okay?”
The voices persisted.
“You heard him. Quiet down now,” the woman in the group of captors with the blond hair ordered.
Still, the voices persisted. As they did so, the captor sporting glasses raised a gun to the air and pulled the trigger, blasting a hole in the roof. How it didn't crumble down was beyond any of them, but it didn't seem like their circumstances were much better anyway. And it worked, the room of campers went silent tremendously quickly.
“Oh, cool, that worked,” they said. It always did. Matty stepped forward, as they had rehearsed.
“So, how many of you are familiar with the term ‘battle royal?’” the man asked, addressing the class. Uncharacteristically, everyone was silent. No raised hands, of course. “What? Not a single one of you? Where are all my pro wrestling fans?”
He sighed, then continued.
“Well, luckily, you don't need any wrestling knowledge for what we brought you here for. Essentially, you're all here to kill each other one by one, until there's one person standing. Then—and only then—can you get off this island and go back home. Take a look at the person to your left; there's a good chance they'll try to kill you. Now, take a look at the person to your right; there's a good chance you'll have to kill them to survive.”
Silence filled the room. There weren't any crickets available, but one could definitely imagine their sound despite their absence.
“So, like, The Hunger Games,” one particularly short student with black hair and a purple sweatshirt said. “I didn't like that book.”
“No. That's something else. This is completely different,” the flannel man responded, not too amused.
“Fortnite?”
“Hey. Stop that. I have a presentation to get through,” the man grumbled before clearing his throat. “Anyways, introductions. To my right is Finch. They're, like, our secretary. And to my right is Hoax, who's the technology gal. And I'm Matty, the head guy of this organization. You probably won't be seeing much of those two, since they'll be working behind the scenes with the rest of our vast team.”
“Pause. Those aren't real names. If you're gonna, like, prank us, at least be realistic,” one boy wearing a polar bear shirt and a green jacket scoffed.
Hoax replied by pointing a gun at him, which got the class pretty quiet again.
“Next person to speak gets shot,” she stated, far too casual for the gravity of her words. In all honesty, she found the students’ quips amusing, but she was technically supposed to keep things professional. “They're code names, anyway. Moonlit isn't a name either, but you don't see me complaining.”
One camper, who was presumably Moonlit, frowned. Her name was a name. It was pretty lame to single her out like that.
“As I was sa—”
Matty was cut off as the sound of a gunshot was heard, and Marc Mangosen’s body, still tied to the chair, fell over, very much not alive. The other two captors turned to look at Finch, who was tucking their gun back into their pocket.
“I forgot I was supposed to shoot the teacher at the beginning,” they remarked. The campers’ reactions were more on the traumatized side than impressed.
“Okay. As I was saying, we're almost done here. Just sit tight. In a couple minutes, you're all gonna be knocked out and scattered across your very own island arena. In that time, we'll give you a collar, designed by our dear friend Hoax, that will detonate if you do something we don't like. Try to take it off? Kaboom. Go somewhere we tell you not to? Kaboom. Damage any of our equipment? Kaboom. Try to go out of bounds? Kaboom. Nobody gets killed in 24 hours? Ka-boom,” Matty announced, really elongating that last “kaboom” for dramatic effect.
“Oh, yeah, on that note,” Hoax added. “You’ll be checked in on every 12 hours, where you'll get a briefing on who's died and whatnot, as well as what areas are ‘forbidden zones.’ It's in the name—don’t go there if you want to keep your head intact. Don't worry, you'll have a map in your daypack that you can mark down. In there will also be a first aid kit, some food, a water bottle, and a randomized weapon: some good, some not so good. Remember the old proverb: you get what you get and you don't get upset. Still want something better? Take from someone else.”
“Is that all?” Matty asked. “I think that's all. No more exposition.”
The room began to fill with the same sleeping chemical that had been deployed on the bus, and everyone who didn't have access to a gas mask—namely, every single camper—would soon fall asleep again.
“Oh, wait!” Finch interjected, although whether one would hear or not would be dependent on their state of consciousness. “Don't forget to smile; you're on camera.”
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July 1, 2024 07:00
It was seven in the morning when the major news outlets would hear of, and subsequently report on, the missing Birdiville High School bus—and all the campers on it. At that point, search parties had already been enlisted.
Coincidentally, it was just at this time when the livestream began rolling.
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Evaluations
Finch took a look at all the files they had sorted prior to their little presentation. They were ordered numerically, and were now updated to include every camper’s weapon assignment.
They looked over at Hoax, who was intently watching the cameras for the first few kids to wake up. Then at Matty, who was hovering over her shoulder rather controllingly.
They looked back down at the files, grinning as they realized the other two had left some evaluation slots open for Finch. The evaluations were what they personally were most excited for. Just some little messages regarding each camper—not that any of them would get to see them.
They got to work.
…
C01 - Serrie - ram horn "You could make some sick music with that. Or refrain from alerting everyone to your location. I think you know which is wiser, C01." - Finch
C02 - Luna - rubber duck "well at least it wasn't freddy fazbear." - hoax
C03 - Ave - machete "Channel that Friday the 13th energy, Camper 3, and you might just be a contender." - Matty
C04 - Vee - mp3 player with kanye discography "Yo, C04, I'm really happy for you, I'mma let you finish, but here's your chance to make one of the best videos of all time." - Finch
C05 - Bee - sabre "en garde! prêts? allez!" - hoax
C06 - Recca - ouija board "My bet's on C06. Don't fail me or my money." - Finch
C07 - Sun - hadestown tickets "hey, can i have those back if you die?" - hoax
C08 - Robin - scythe "I think they made a book about this." - Finch
C09 - Linden - switchblade "Also known as switch knife, automatic knife, pushbutton knife, ejector knife, flick knife, gravity knife, flick blade, or spring knife. Or, in your case, your key to winning." - Matty
C10 - Alba - flamethrower "Get the job done, Camper 10. Do it for Scotland." - Matty
C11 - Moonlit - cross bow and 3 arrows "Sorry that Hoax said your name wasn't real, C11. She'll apologize to you in person if you win." - Finch
C12 - Alia - emer-k1 assault rifle "I concur, Camper 12. You're taller than Camper 2." - Matty
C13 - Fi - sufjan stevens javelin cd "also gonna ask for this one when you're done here." - hoax
C14 - Maia - fmk 9c1 pistol "FMK? More like... Freaking Murdered (and) Killed! That might be you, C14." - Finch
C15 - Dawn - bone saw "guys this is just like that movie saw..." - hoax
C16 - Nat - metal discus "Channel your inner Apollo and knock out all those Hyacinthi (is that the plural?)." - Finch
C17 - Sandy - tomahawk "Did you know they have tomahawk throwing competitions? Maybe you could enter one if you live, Camper 17." - Matty
C18 - Inky - flail "this is your chance to be in a real life fantasy game, inky. go get em!" - hoax
C19 - Reese - portable mini fridge "This might not seem like anything good, but you'll thank me when everyone else is running on unrefrigerated food." - Matty
C20 - Moss - studded bat "it's as easy as playing baseball, moss. only the baseball is someone else's head." - hoax
C21 - Finley - clay vase "I borrowed that from my mom. Please be careful with it." - Matty
C22 - Pi - scalpel "they gave the math name a medical tool. how fun!" - hoax
C23 - Zai - electrolaser "I didn't know these existed, honestly. Have fun, C23." - Finch
C24 - CJ - 3 grenades "Give me a C! Give me a J! That's CJ. Now, give me an E! Give me a Z! Give me an out! What does that say? What you'll be if you don't get your head in the game." - Finch
C25 - Lee - katana "If you rearrange the hiragana in katana, you get kanata, which means 'the other side.' That's where you could be going, Camper 25. Unless Wiktionary failed me." - Matty
C26 - Luka - vacuum cleaner "the abandoned ikea probably has some dust, if you're looking for a practical use." - hoax