Author's Note: Hello, readers. I won't delay you from jumping into my story, but I thought I'd preface it very quickly. This is officially a sequel to my last story, Battle Royale, American Version, Season 23 and as such takes place in the same universe. Feel free to read my last story if you wish, but I've done my best to make it so my previous story isn't a prerequisite (mostly because a lot of the writing makes me cringe when I reread it). There will be some references to that story, but I've tried to write this so anyone, both people who have cut their way through that season and those who haven't, can read and enjoy this current piece. If you feel out of the loop, but don't want to commit to reading a 250,000+ word story for background info, then check out the surveys some fans so very graciously filled out for me in the reviews section - there's plenty of tidbits about my story there. Feel free to comment, and I invite you to be as critical as you can, because I like knowing where my writing succeeds and where it fails. And as a final note, please be warned that this story will take me a LONG TIME to complete. If you're willing to make the commitment and stand by me and this story, then I promise to make it the best I can. Blah blah blah, matures themes, blah blah, do-not-own disclaimer, blah blah blah.

So...

Let the story begin...

Mike D (Boy #9) took a deep breath. Then he took another. He felt drowsy, but somehow restless. Mike D wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, because his limbs still felt heavy and his foot was asleep, but he also felt like he could sleep forever and it wouldn't be long enough. An ache in his back suddenly surfaced in his consciousness, and he realized he was hunched over onto his folded arms. Mike D sat up and discovered he was seated in a small desk in what looked like a kindergarten classroom. There was a diagram of how to count to ten on the wall, followed by a depiction of the basic colors and then a list of the classroom rules, which included sharing and listening to the teacher.

It was dark inside the classroom, the only illumination shining down from a single overhead light. It cast shadows against the walls, and it was at that moment that Mike D realized he wasn't alone. Completely surrounding him were similar desks, and in each one lay an unconscious person.

"So, you're the first one awake," a voice said from in front of him. Mike D turned his head in surprise, noticing the outline of a figure standing at the head of the classroom.

"Go ahead," the figure said, "Turn on the lights." More overhead lights flashed into existence and Mike D recoiled and hissed in pain at the overwhelming brightness. He gritted his teeth and let his eyes adjust to the bright lights. His vision became less and less blurred and the woman standing before him became clearer. She looked like she was in her late twenties or early thirties, and she was dressed in a business-casual blouse and skirt. Mike D noticed that she was smiling, but there wasn't something right about it, like she was hiding a secret. She flipped some blond hair over her shoulder and her eyes zipped to the side as a low moan escaped someone else's lips.

Mike D took this moment to scan the people around him. He couldn't see all their faces, but he was able to recognize some on sight. There was Delilah's (Girl #9) fluorescent pink hair off to his right, and behind her were the soft snores of Felicia (Girl #11) slightly hidden behind her arm cast. Mike D continued to glance at each sleeping face, realizing he knew most on sight. These were his classmates.

But that meant that his friends were there too! Where were the other FLAs? That was what they called each other – the Future Leaders of America. Each one was an overachiever in their own right, taking part in sports, volunteer work, and elected office – anything to beef up their resumes for college. They ran the school, that's what it came down to. They were involved with everything, and therefore had a say about everything – any decision ultimately came down to them. And as much as they clung to each other, there was always the tension of competition among the group. On the surface everything was friendly, but Mike D knew that some members would do anything to come out on top. To Mike D, it always seemed like school elections would destroy the FLAs, but somehow, no matter who won, everything would return to normal. Or whatever it was the group considered "normal".

Truthfully, Mike D was still bothered about losing the presidency to another FLA, Kristy (Girl #6). That class presidency would have ensured his place at Harvard, but instead he lost, and he got wait listed. He'd managed to get accepted after his parents made another considerable "contribution" to the school, but that wasn't the point. He could have gotten in on his own, if he'd won. Hell, the only reason Kristy had managed to win was because of her boyfriend, Raymond (Boy #11). The kid had a reputation of being a major drug addict, but somehow he still had some sway over the brainless masses. He'd gotten all the rejects and underlings to vote for Kristy. He was bad news, and his presence made all the FLAs look bad - just because he dated one of them. Mike D was sure he wasn't the only FLA who thought so, but that's why being a FLA was so tough – it was all based on image. Mistakes from as early as junior high school could easily resurface and discredit you in future elections.

Mike D spotted both Kristy and Raymond among the unconscious. Layla (Girl #24), another FLA, was in the back row. Mike D's eyes widened when he noticed another familiar face silently dozing – it was yet another FLA, Noah (Boy #18). Mike D took a step towards him, but then froze, slowly moving backwards. He wanted nothing more than to march forward and wrap his arms around the sleeping boy, snuggling in close and returning to sleep. But they were both FLAs, and that meant that image was all that mattered. The prejudice that came with being gay would override everything else they were. People wouldn't respect Mike D if they knew he was gay, and without respect, the rest of his life would be ruined. No candidacy for public office, no presidential campaign, all of his hard work would be for nothing.

Noah didn't understand. He wasn't public about his orientation, but he'd been pressuring Mike D for the both of them to come out together, to show everyone that homosexuals could be just as effective leaders as anyone, that being gay didn't make them any less respectable or powerful.

The two boys had recently broken up, which had been devastating to the both of them. Mike D hadn't ever felt as free as when he was with Noah, when they didn't have to worry about hiding their secret. And the first time they had sex, Mike D had felt so warm, so safe and secure. Reality always came back ruin everything, as it always did, but the real world didn't exist when the two boys were alone together, without the pressure of being the best, without the anxiety of maintaining their image of power.

Mike D always knew it wouldn't last. It couldn't. An unmarried candidate was the same as gay one in the eyes of the public – he knew at some point he'd need to take a wife, to bear some children, to appear like a normal human being. Mike D thought Noah understood that, but he didn't. Noah kept the relationship secret from everyone, just like Mike D did, but Mike D had no intention of that ever stopping.

The boy wanted nothing more than to take Noah on his campaign trails once he got old enough - to have Noah be his advisor, spending his days helping Mike D gain a good public opinion and spending his nights in Mike D's bed. He could understand why Noah would be upset at the insinuation that he could be an advisor to an elected official and not one himself. But Mike D couldn't understand why Noah wanted to go public. It was committing social suicide, and for what? For the self-satisfaction of being judged as a gay man rather than a straight one? That's why Mike D had refused, and Noah decided to end it, saying that he couldn't be with someone who was ashamed of whom he was.

The split had caused both boys more pain than they would ever have admitted to anyone.

More people stirred, and Mike D saw the same expression on all their faces: Where am I? He wasn't sure why they were all in a kindergarten classroom, never mind that there were so many of them. Mike D did a quick head count, numbering fifty students in all. Was this some massive outreach program? If that was the case, some people definitely didn't belong – it looked like the entire College Crowd was present, a group of kids who pictured college to be one large party and decided to start that fiesta early. They were known for their drunken raves and low-key experimental drug nights. In practically every way, they were the exact opposite of the FLAs, although there was never any real conflict between the groups. The only one of their group who was ever any trouble was the mouthy Nina (Girl #20). She was the typical beautiful bitch, who thought her good looks could get her out of any trouble. The problem was that she was usually right.

"That's it, everyone!" the woman said in a loud voice, her blue eyes flashing around the classroom in excitement, "It's time for your orientation! Wakey, wakey!" She clapped her hands twice, and Mike D noticed that nearly everyone was awake now. Mike D turned and sat down in his seat. He glanced to side and noticed Noah out of the corner of his eye. When he turned his head, Noah was staring directly forward, refusing to make eye contact.

"Where are we?" someone called out.

"I'm getting to that!" the woman yelled, her face immediately distorting in a furious snarl. She cleared her throat and fixed her shirt before returning the smile to her face. "I'm Miss Smith," she said, glancing around the room. Her outburst had placed every student on edge, and no one dared to breathe loudly. Mike D took another moment to glance around the room, noticing for the first time a few large racks of duffel bags lined up against the back wall.

"Who can tell me what the BR Act is?" Miss Smith asked, her eyes narrowing. Mike D felt himself stiffen. The Program? No way, there was no fucking way! Chairs screeched the tiled floor as a few people jumped to their feet. A girl let out a single piercing scream before passing out onto the floor. A boy ran to her side, gently tapping her face to wake her up again.

"No takers?" Miss Smith said as if nothing had happened. She pulled out a slip of paper, "I guess I'll have to call on someone randomly." Her ice blue eyes scanned the page. Mike D clenched his hands, feeling his fingernails break the skin on his palms. How could this happen to me? I'm supposed to grow up and become president! Why is this happening? Mike D couldn't remove his eyes from Miss Smith's face. He watched her look up and down the page, unsure what we she was looking at.

"What's this?" she finally said, "What the fuck is this?!" Her voice became louder with each word. He watched her breathe heavy for a minute before screeching, "Guards!" The door to the classroom crashed open and military officers rushed into the room. A boy in the front row fell backwards in his chair from surprise. Each officer carried large gun in their hands, and their faces were emotionless, like they were carved from stone.

Miss Smith strode over to the guard in charge and shoved the paper in his face. "What's wrong with this picture?" she said, her voice causing the soldier to fidget slightly.

"Ma'am, that's the student roster," the man said in a quiet voice that seemed to quiver at the end. He's afraid of her, Mike D realized.

"I know what the fuck it is!" Miss Smith said through gritted teeth, "Look at this! Boys number 9 and 19! They're both named Mike!" Mike D stiffened, the blood trickling from his clenched hands.

"Do you realize how stupid the average viewer of The Program is?" Miss Smith continued. The officer replied that he did not. "We can't have two contestants by the same name! No one will be able to follow what's going on!"

Miss Smith turned her attention to the students without missing a beat. "Both boys named Mike come forward." Mike D didn't even feel himself stand. He could feel all their eyes on him as he took one step after another. He knew Noah was looking at him, but he was the one who refused to look back this time.

Oh, so now you care about what happens to me? Mike D was almost ashamed that the thought crossed his mind first, and that he was still harboring so much bitterness against his ex. But more than anything, the reason he didn't return the stare at Noah was because he didn't want anyone to see the terror hidden in his eyes. Especially not Miss Smith.

I can't show any fear. She'll know if I'm afraid.

Mike D got there first and Miss Smith gave him a half-smile. Mike D wasn't very tall, in fact most would consider him short for a guy, but he had some added girth to him. Most of it was fat, but it wasn't how much you weighed, but how you through it around. Mike D wasn't even aware that Mike R (Boy #19) had arrived until he caught sight of something small to his side. Compared to Mike D, Mike R was tiny. Shorter than most with a small frame that made him appear closer to the age of twelve rather than eighteen. The boy was pale too, with dark circles beneath his eyes. His big brown eyes were wide open, but Mike D got the impression that no one was home.

"We're going to play a game." Miss Smith said, "One of you is going to live and the other will die." To hear it so plainly, Mike D felt a chill go up his spine. She'd said it like she was reading a grocery list, like both of the boys before her were items to check off before making her way to the register. Mike D turned and faced Noah, who had risen from his seat. Mike D could see the fear in Noah's dark green eyes, and he forced a smile. The hurt was gone, and suddenly the whole ordeal, the reason the boys had broken up, his image as a FLA, absolutely everything, seemed of so little importance.

Don't worry, he wanted to say, I'll give you a kiss in front of everyone, just like you always wanted.

"I have a number behind my back," Miss Smith said, "It's either a one or a two. Which is it?" Mike D opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it. He glanced over at Mike R who hadn't spoken a single word. Instead, Mike D noticed a patch of wetness slowly growing on the front of Mike R's pants. Mike D took a step to the side to avoid the puddle growing by his feet. He glanced up at Miss Smith's face, and she only smiled wider, completely unaware of the yellow piss slowly inching its way toward her high heeled shoes.

"Well," she said, "Which is it?" Mike D took a deep breath.

"One," he said. Mike R continued to stare forward, although he seemed to have run out of urine. Miss Smith pulled her hand out from behind her back, revealing a single finger pointed at the ceiling.

"Congratulations," she said, "You win." He didn't know where the gun had come from, only that she was suddenly carrying it. Mike D couldn't remember if she had been carrying it the whole time, but that seemed unlikely. The only thing that was important was that she had it. Mike D watched as she brought the gun up to his face and pulled the trigger.

-B-A-T-T-L-E-

Mike R blinked a few times as blood splattered all over his face. He slowly reached up a hand and dabbed at the spots on his cheek, pulling it away and seeing the red run down his fingers. His body told him to scream, especially when his eyes caught sight of the brain matter stuck to his T-shirt. But for some reason, the yell remained caught in his throat. He couldn't find the energy to let out the cry for help, and instead collapsed into the puddle of his piss, now mixed with the blood of the corpse a few inches away.

Someone did find the power to scream, and he did so, running to the front of the classroom and kneeling by the dead boy. Noah bit his lips as tears ran down his face. He stared down at the body that had been Mike D, unable to recognize the face due to the bullet hole that had ripped it apart.

"Why did you do that?" Noah asked, looking up at Miss Smith, "He won! Why did you kill him?!"

Miss Smith pushed some blond hair behind her shoulder. "Trust me," she said, "He got off easy. Within a day, half of you will wish to trade places with him. And the other half will be dead already."

Mike R thought she was lying, but a part of him wondered if Miss Smith was right. He tried to make himself stand, but his legs weren't listening to him. His jeans remained sprawled on the ground, slowly soaking up all the urine and blood gathering on the floor.

Miss Smith pulled a pen that was tucked on top of her ear and uncapped it. She slowly drew a line across the paper, removing Mike D from the list. She stopped for a moment, speaking out loud to herself.

"Micah," she said. Micah (Boy #7) immediately tensed up, his eyes widening with fear. "Is that name too similar to Mike?" She paused for a minute, tapping the pen against the paper.

"Why are you doing this to us?" Noah said in a low voice still kneeling by the corpse, "Who are you to condemn us to death?"

"No, Micah is different enough," she said at last. Micah released a breath that had been trapped inside his lungs.

"Don't ignore me!" Noah yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls, "Who the fuck do you think you are?" He was on his feet in an instant, a clenched fist aimed straight for Miss Smith's face. Mike R watched in awe as Noah launched an attack on the heartless woman. What an idiot, he thought, He's just going to get himself killed.

Mike R's eyes widened as Miss Smith caught the punch before it connected with the side of her face. She directed his fist around her body, sending Noah off balance. She spun around, like she was dancing, and Mike R's mouth dropped open. The look of contentment, of complete peace, covered her face as she slammed the boy against the blackboard and brought the pen up to his throat. She looked almost beautiful as she forced the boy to submit, but then her smile was back, and it ruined the perfection of her face.

"I'm the current record-holder of The Program, that's all," she said. The air was sucked out of the room as everyone gasped in surprise and forgot how to breathe. "I was in your position a few seasons ago. I managed to survive the attacks of my classmates and claim victory. And I did it in record time. So, let's calm down, shall we? None of you are a match for me."

Miss Smith dropped Noah and he collapsed to the ground in a painful slump. She stared down at him. "Consider yourself lucky," she said, "You're the first person to attack me that I didn't outright kill, even if you are a dirty little faggot." Noah's head sprang up immediately, his green eyes open wide with terror and surprise. He scanned the dozens of eyes that stared back at him from across the classroom, eyes that now seemed so unfamiliar.

"Now, let's get down to business," Miss Smith said and several guards moved forward. One dragged Mike D's dead body from the classroom, while two others pulled Noah and Mike R to their feet and shoved them toward their desks. Miss Smith opened her mouth to speak, but slowly her smile faded and her mouth closed.

"Damn," she said, "Now it's uneven." Again, she was just talking to herself, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. "It's those damn higher ups fault. Giving me two kids named Mike. What else am I supposed to do but eliminate one? But now that tips winning in the girls' favor." She stopped, her eyes scanning the many faces staring back at her. "Damn," she said again, "They'll say I let the girls have an unfair advantage if one wins." She stopped again, this time, though, it seemed like she was looking for something specific.

Mike R froze when she gazed at him and she smiled again. "You, piss boy," she said, motioning for him to stand, "You're going to help me eliminate a girl." Mike R's legs gave out again and he crashed to the floor.

"Stand up or you die," Miss Smith said, the smile still wide on her face. Mike R wasn't sure where the gun had come from in the first place, or where it had gone when Miss Smith was using her pen, but it was once again in her hand and it was pointed at his head. Mike R gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet using the chair and desk for leverage.

"Now, is there any girl in here that you'd like to see dead?" Miss Smith asked. Mike R closed his eyes and tried to wipe the tears away from his face before she could see them. He shook his head slowly and then furiously so that she understood that he hadn't wanted this, he hadn't wanted any of it.

Mike R was a fan of horror movies, and he prided himself on staying completely calm while others screeched and hid behind their hands while gruesome images played out before them. But of course, here in a real horror movie, all he could do was piss his pants while trying to prevent himself from falling to the floor.

"Okay ladies, it seems none of you have done wrong by this boy," Miss Smith said, "Which is fine. But still one of you must die. So pick a number. One to twenty five. The girl with that number dies. Easy, right?" Mike R opened his mouth to say something, anything to get out of this. But his words choked him, and he slowly gazed around the room, taking in all the pairs of feminine eyes open wide in terror. One of them will be dead soon, and it will be all my fault.

"What's the problem?" Miss Smith said, "Is twenty five numbers too hard to keep track of?" Mike R expected to hear a mocking tone in her voice, but if it was there, he didn't notice it. "Let's make this easier, okay?" Mike R returned his gaze to Miss Smith as she looked up and down the list in front of her.

"Would you like higher or lower than thirteen?" she said. Mike R clenched his jaw and tried to swallow, but his throat felt like it had closed up on him. With a quick hiccup, he finally managed the word, "High."

"Okay, now would like higher or lower than nineteen?" Miss Smith asked. Mike R took a breath – this was all happening too fast. He wasn't even aware what he was doing, narrowing down a list without knowing who was on it. He wasn't sure why this was such a problem for him, since he had never been very popular. Sure, he knew plenty of people here on sight, but none of them knew who he was. Mike R was just a pale little kid that easily disappeared in a crowd, and didn't crave many friends. He liked horror movies too much and that tended to creep most people out.

Everyone except his girlfriend. She was a school reporter, known for getting the stories that no one else knew how to get. Much like Mike R, she could easily disappear in a crowd, but she used that to her advantage, and blended in with the walls to eavesdrop in on conversations.

"We're waiting for an answer, piss boy," Miss Smith said, "Don't make this any harder on these ladies. I'm sure the anxiety is killing them."

"High." Mike R said again.

"Higher or lower than twenty three?" Miss Smith said, and Mike R prepared to answer again. He probably sounded like an infant to her, always saying the same answer. He didn't have to like what he was doing, but he was tired of looking like a special education student in front of everyone. He didn't have much dignity left, but it was all that was going to get him through this.

"Lower," Mike R said, and Miss Smith smirked to herself, amused like a scientist when his chimpanzee learned a new word in sign language. She gazed at the list and then looked at him square in the eye. Mike R wanted to recoil from her stare, but he tightened his grip on the chair and kept himself upright.

"That leaves three numbers – twenty, twenty one, and twenty two. Let's narrow it down to two."

"Twenty-two," Mike R said almost immediately, mostly because it was the last number he'd heard. He was tired of this game. He just wanted it to be over – the stare from all the girls was too much to bear. He wasn't sure how he was going to continue on, knowing that he'd been the reason a girl was dead, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Okay, Girl Number 20, Nina, please come forward," Miss Smith said. Mike R nearly collapsed. Nina? But she was part of the College Crowd! Sure, they were known for their parties and questionable activities, but they weren't anyone to mess with. Word had it that the College Crowd was blackmailing most of the senior class with things they did while at the infamous parties, and some even swore that the College Crowd had info on some faculty members too. Sure, on the surface, they seemed like a bunch of hedonists that wouldn't even make it to college, but they were dangerous.

And although it was always debated, most students agreed that it was Nina who ran the show. Some said that she had slept with most of the male teachers and even the principal, and that she kept them all in her back pocket for her use. There was never any proof, but the talk was enough for people to steer clear.

Mike R glanced behind him and realized someone else was standing. It was another person from the College Crowd, Riley (Boy #6). He shook his head back and forth slowly, his eyes narrowed onto Mike R's tiny frame. There was no way anyone from that group would forgive him if he was the reason Nina died. He couldn't pick her, no matter what.

"And please step forward Girl Number 21, Selene," Miss Smith said.

"NO!" a scream bounced off the walls and caused nearly everyone in the room to jump in surprise. It took a minute for Mike R to realize that he'd been the one to yell. Selene, his girlfriend, the school reporter.

"Mike," Selene said in a voice barely above a whisper. She walked to the front of the class, unable to stop the tears from flowing down her face. Mike R couldn't believe what was happening. There was no way he could condemn his girlfriend to death. She was the only one who didn't complain when they'd watch scary movies for the twelfth time, the only one who somehow found his childish frame and pale skin attractive. She was his first girlfriend, and the only true friend the boy had ever had. There was no way he'd let her die.

But if he chose Nina, then he'd automatically have five other people coming after him for killing the leader of their club (although it was more like a gang). The College Crowd wouldn't let him walk away scot-free – hell, he was as good as dead if Nina died.

"Make your choice," Miss Smith said, a wide smile on her face. She clearly liked the soap opera playing out in front of her eyes. Mike R paused. How would he continue living knowing that Selene died because of him? He couldn't. That's what it came down to – without Selene, Mike R would fade out of existence. But if he saved Nina, would the rest of the College Crowd reward him? Would they protect him out there?

Mike R shook his head. That was absolutely ridiculous, to think that they would thank him for saving Nina. They were dangerous, with or without Nina. Basically, whomever he chose, Mike R was going to die because of it.

"Her," Mike R said pointing at Nina, "Kill her."

Many things happened at once. With a roar, Riley launched himself at Mike R in abandoned rage. Nina cried out in fear and dropped to her knees, her mouth opened wide. Miss Smith pushed Selene to the side and rushed down the aisle. Rushed isn't the right word, she flew down the aisle, like a delicate flower. She grabbed Riley right before he reached Mike R and with a single deft move threw him to the ground. She cocked the gun and placed it to his temple.

"I am so fucking sick of you kids," she said, the snarl returning to her face, "I don't care if you want to kill each other. But you will do it out in the playing field. So sit down and shut the fuck up." She pressed the gun to his head, like she was trying to shove the barrel into his brain. Riley opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out.

"I won't kill you," Miss Smith hissed, "Because I can't afford any more deaths. But I'll put you in so much pain, I'll make you wish you were dead." She removed the gun from Riley's temple, a circular indentation where the barrel had been.

"Okay, children, it's time to sit down and pay attention," Miss Smith said as she moved to the front of the classroom. Mike R finally allowed himself to collapse back into his chair. From his seat he saw Nina still in her kneeling position, her mouth open in a silent scream. It took a moment, but Mike R finally saw the pen sticking out of the top of her blond head. Miss Smith walked by, gripping the pen and yanking it from the girl's skull in one quick motion. She used the pen to make another line on her list of students, her hand becoming red and sticky.

"It's time to explain the rules."

Current Danger Zones: none

Pending Danger Zones: none

(48) Contestants Remaining