Mr O observes the student's progress.
Leaning so far back in his chair that his body was almost horizontal, Mr O continued to push down on the top of his pen and sighed to himself. He was bored.
Yawning to himself, he leaned forwards and placed his elbows on the surface of the desk at which he was situated, in the middle of a large hall. All around him, Special Defence Officers were furiously typing and clicking away at a numerous amount of computers, positioned around the edge of the school hall.
All around the walls, plasma screens and monitors had been fixed to the brick surface, along with wires that probably numbered in the thousands. In the corner of the hall, a low hum was being emanated from a generator that served as a secondary source of power to the mains.
Streaming down from the high ceiling, was the bright glare of artificial light. This was, obviously, to be expected (even during the day) as the windows had been covered by steel plates in order to defend against any student stupid enough to venture towards the school’s danger zone and attempt an attack.
Tilting his head to the side, so that the light reflected off of his shaved head, Mr O glanced, briefly, at one of the screens. The picture that it showed was that of three students, standing in the middle of an alleyway. A neon green number, in the top right of the screen, read: ‘C6-Camera 21’.
This image was, obviously, that of Beau Mehtre (Male Student #12), Lauren Hatch (Female Student #10) and Alice Woode (Female Student #9).
“Hehehe…” chuckled Mr O, breaking into a (slightly yellowed) toothy grin. “Making alliances, eh?”
“Sir?” questioned one of the Officers, turning away from his monitor. “I didn’t catch that.”
“And too right,” Mr O laughed. “It wasn’t thrown your way. I was merely making an observation, soldier boy.”
Turning back to his computer screen, the soldier seemed to grunt, slightly, however the instructor failed to notice this and, instead, continued to muse to himself.
“What a waste of time…It’s kill or be killed, yet time after time, someone always joins up with someone else…It just makes them more of a target.” His face suddenly widened into a broad smile. “Oh well…At least when they’re killed, it’ll be entertaining to watch.”
All of a sudden, something caught his attention on another of the monitors.
Signalling one of the Officers, he shouted out: “Enlarge that!”
Following the instructor’s orders, one of the Officers began to furiously type on his keyboard. As if in response to this, an image previously occupying a small screen across the hall, moved to a much larger one, directly opposite Mr O.
The screen now bore the image of three teenage boys, standing together. The top right hand side read: ‘H3-Camera 5’.
“More alliances sir?” questioned the Officer from earlier, turning to face Mr O.
“Not just an alliance,” Mr O said, pointing towards the edge of the screen. Depicted in the distance was a small figure, making it’s way towards the group. “A massacre!”
Male Students #5, 9 and 13 were standing together, debating what to do about the situation. Naturally, due to him being head boy (Oh god, he still hadn’t removed the large silver badge from his lapel), the focus of the debate was #5, Jeremy Meek.
“I told you, I don’t know!” he protested as his thickly accented, Canadian, voice rang through the landscape. “Just because I’m head boy doesn’t mean that I know what to do in a situation like this!”
“C’mon man!” Male Student #9, Luke Bryant said, sounding slightly worried. “You’re supposed to be able to cope under pressure!”
“Pressure is one thing! Killing your classmates is beyond pressure!”
“You must be able to come up with something!” cried out the pretentious sounding voice of Jonah Goffe.
“I already told you that I don’t know how to cope with this!” Jeremy cried, turning slightly red. “Luke’s the one who waited outside the school for the two of us!”
“That’s only because I thought that you would know what to do!” Luke said.
As their conversation continued, the sound of their voices were escalating. They were already at the stage where they were drawing far too much attention to themselves (and it was because of this level of noise that Mr O had, in fact, noticed the monitor that they were being displayed on).
It was, also, due to this heated conversation that they failed to notice the figure approaching them from the depths of a bush, seven meters to their right.
The figure was tall and lanky. His hair, which was the colour of sandstone, stuck out in several directions, permitting him somewhat of a deranged appearance, despite his overly calm facial expression. Unlike the other ‘transfer students’ he wore a combination of a blazer and suit trousers (albeit without a tie), resulting in him easily appearing to be an original member of the class. Hanging from between his lips was the filter of a cigarette (probably burnt down to this due to an excessive drag).
Reaching up with his right hand, Dean Koontz (Male Student #19, and transfer student) removed the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the floor, before raising the Government Model Colt. 45 in his left hand and firing a shot into each of the three students in front of him.
Lolling his head, lazily, to the side, he placed his gun into his pocket and reached inside his blazer. Withdrawing his hand, he raised a packet of cigarettes to his mouth before removing one and replacing the packet to his inside pocket and pulling out a shimmering zippo lighter.
Once the tip of his addiction had been lit, he strode over to the bodies and began to dig through their duffle bags.
30 Students Remaining