Categories > Anime/Manga > Battle Royale > Redder Than Blood, Whiter Than Bone
"That was rather cruel, sir," a SDF soldier stated, looking up from his computer monitor and turning his attention towards the squat figure of Mr O. He was currently pacing around the school hall. In his right hand was a phone.
"And it was also rather fun!" the psychotic teacher laughed, gleefully, striding over to his desk and placing the phone down. "When stuck in a place like this, one needs to find ways to amuse himself." He paused and grinned before continuing. "Preferably without the use of dirty magazines and baby oil."
The soldier pulled a disgusted face as his attention returned to the monitor.
*
Beau, Lauren and Alice were currently walking along the slope of a large hill. They had been walking for close to twenty minutes.
Ever since they had decided to leave the village, Beau had entered into 'commando style'. True to his cadet training, the former Corporal that was Beau Mehtre was overly cautious. Repeatedly checking grid bearings on the map against the landscape in front of them, he made sure to stay away from areas that he assumed would draw people.
Unfortunately for the girls, his planned movements required a change. Discarding his own blazer and tie, Beau insisted that the two terrified females altered their wardrobe to accommodate their move.
'If you're wearing heels, get rid of them,' he had said, deathly serious. 'That or snap them off. We need to be able to run when we have to.'
He had also made them tie their similarly long hair behind their heads into buns, and told Alice that she needed to tear her pencil skirt up the side, to allow for increased mobility.
When asked why he was so cautious, Beau responded: 'I was stupid earlier. Assuming that I could get people to join me to fight Mr O. I was lucky, finding you two, but I doubt that anyone else we find will be as sane. Everyones been running round for about seven hours. Those who aren't completely unhinged will be the ones killing for fun. If we do find someone by chance, we'll let them join us, if we can be sure we can trust them.'
Now halfway up the incline of the hill, the small group had begun to walk around the slope, attempting to avoid the summit and staying on the side that was opposite from the road leading into the village they had previously been situated in. Beau had called it 'contouring'.
"Why are we doing this...?" Alice questioned, gasping for breath as her ruined heels slipped against the grass.
"We need to avoid that road as much as possible," came the response. "That thing down there will attract too much attention."
"What thing?" Alice asked, staggering slightly as she tried to close the walking distance between her and Beau.
Stopping briefly, Beau held the map out in front of her and pointed down at the road on it. "You passed it when you were coming into the village." Beneath his finger, printed onto the paper, was a small P. "It's a petrol station. People who want to stock up will head there instead of risking entering the urban areas."
"So where are we heading?" asked Alice, who, up until then, hadn't bothered to inquire as to their destination.
"That outcrop of trees," he responded, pointing down towards a large green area on the map. "It's the largest in the area, and all those contour lines through it show that it's got a lot of hills within it. The trees will give us cover and the slopes visibility."
*
The pungent reek of gasoline plagued the space beneath the wide metal canopy. Encircling the eight petrol pumps that almost seem to grow upwards towards the roof, the sickly stench seemed to thicken the air.
What once could have been digital display panels, mounted slightly above the hoses on the pumps, protruded as grey blocks (the screens, under ordinary circumstances would have been glowing with green neon, however, all power had been cut off to the designated playing area).
Protruding slightly from the edge of the canopy was the petrol station's shop. It's large windows bore a glimmering, yet undeniably, dirty shine to them as the morning light glared across their surface. Beneath these windows, large bags of coal were piled, their thick paper sacks crumpled and folded, due to their extended placement. Next to these bags was a large pile of newspapers. Displayed along the top of the building, yet still below the canopy, was a large green and red sign that read: "SPAR".
Occupying a space just next to the road that led to the station, a large pole protruded from the ground, like some kind of perverse metallic flower. Atop this pole was a large sign, blank neon screens glinting from it's surface. Once upon a time, it would have displayed the petrol and diesel prices.
There were two cars parked on top of the gravel next to the shop. More than likely left behind when the designated area was evacuated. One of their doors was open.
Echoing through the area, the crunching sounds of shoes on gravel persisted. There was someone pacing in front of the automatic doors that led into the shop.
The figure was dressed in an excessively odd attire. His trousers, a light shade of ash grey, served to stand out as being almost ludicrously different from the navy blazer that he wore. Pinned to the chest pocket of this blazer was a bright yellow patch, bearing his school's symbol. The tie that hung around his neck, swinging in front of his bright white shirt was a similar shade of blue as his blazer, with small yellow shapes decorating it. His shoes were black.
Put simply, the uniform of the school that he was in attendance at (being one of the 'transfer students') was fucking disgusting.
The automatic doors were closed. (Well of course they fucking were, genius! The power was off! How would they be able to move!)
The figure was debating over what he was to do. There were bound to be supplies inside of the shop. If he could get inside, he would be able to stock up and then hide out somewhere. He wouldn't have to move.
Suddenly coming to a conclusion, he dashed to his left, towards a small pile of car parts and various metal objects. Grasping a tire iron in his fist, he raised the steel object and struck the glass doors.
The surface cracked, creating somewhat of a spider web pattern across it.
Striking out again, his follow up blow prompted the door to completely shatter.
He needed to be quick. The sound of the breaking glass was so loud, someone must have heard it.
28 STUDENTS REMAINING
"And it was also rather fun!" the psychotic teacher laughed, gleefully, striding over to his desk and placing the phone down. "When stuck in a place like this, one needs to find ways to amuse himself." He paused and grinned before continuing. "Preferably without the use of dirty magazines and baby oil."
The soldier pulled a disgusted face as his attention returned to the monitor.
*
Beau, Lauren and Alice were currently walking along the slope of a large hill. They had been walking for close to twenty minutes.
Ever since they had decided to leave the village, Beau had entered into 'commando style'. True to his cadet training, the former Corporal that was Beau Mehtre was overly cautious. Repeatedly checking grid bearings on the map against the landscape in front of them, he made sure to stay away from areas that he assumed would draw people.
Unfortunately for the girls, his planned movements required a change. Discarding his own blazer and tie, Beau insisted that the two terrified females altered their wardrobe to accommodate their move.
'If you're wearing heels, get rid of them,' he had said, deathly serious. 'That or snap them off. We need to be able to run when we have to.'
He had also made them tie their similarly long hair behind their heads into buns, and told Alice that she needed to tear her pencil skirt up the side, to allow for increased mobility.
When asked why he was so cautious, Beau responded: 'I was stupid earlier. Assuming that I could get people to join me to fight Mr O. I was lucky, finding you two, but I doubt that anyone else we find will be as sane. Everyones been running round for about seven hours. Those who aren't completely unhinged will be the ones killing for fun. If we do find someone by chance, we'll let them join us, if we can be sure we can trust them.'
Now halfway up the incline of the hill, the small group had begun to walk around the slope, attempting to avoid the summit and staying on the side that was opposite from the road leading into the village they had previously been situated in. Beau had called it 'contouring'.
"Why are we doing this...?" Alice questioned, gasping for breath as her ruined heels slipped against the grass.
"We need to avoid that road as much as possible," came the response. "That thing down there will attract too much attention."
"What thing?" Alice asked, staggering slightly as she tried to close the walking distance between her and Beau.
Stopping briefly, Beau held the map out in front of her and pointed down at the road on it. "You passed it when you were coming into the village." Beneath his finger, printed onto the paper, was a small P. "It's a petrol station. People who want to stock up will head there instead of risking entering the urban areas."
"So where are we heading?" asked Alice, who, up until then, hadn't bothered to inquire as to their destination.
"That outcrop of trees," he responded, pointing down towards a large green area on the map. "It's the largest in the area, and all those contour lines through it show that it's got a lot of hills within it. The trees will give us cover and the slopes visibility."
*
The pungent reek of gasoline plagued the space beneath the wide metal canopy. Encircling the eight petrol pumps that almost seem to grow upwards towards the roof, the sickly stench seemed to thicken the air.
What once could have been digital display panels, mounted slightly above the hoses on the pumps, protruded as grey blocks (the screens, under ordinary circumstances would have been glowing with green neon, however, all power had been cut off to the designated playing area).
Protruding slightly from the edge of the canopy was the petrol station's shop. It's large windows bore a glimmering, yet undeniably, dirty shine to them as the morning light glared across their surface. Beneath these windows, large bags of coal were piled, their thick paper sacks crumpled and folded, due to their extended placement. Next to these bags was a large pile of newspapers. Displayed along the top of the building, yet still below the canopy, was a large green and red sign that read: "SPAR".
Occupying a space just next to the road that led to the station, a large pole protruded from the ground, like some kind of perverse metallic flower. Atop this pole was a large sign, blank neon screens glinting from it's surface. Once upon a time, it would have displayed the petrol and diesel prices.
There were two cars parked on top of the gravel next to the shop. More than likely left behind when the designated area was evacuated. One of their doors was open.
Echoing through the area, the crunching sounds of shoes on gravel persisted. There was someone pacing in front of the automatic doors that led into the shop.
The figure was dressed in an excessively odd attire. His trousers, a light shade of ash grey, served to stand out as being almost ludicrously different from the navy blazer that he wore. Pinned to the chest pocket of this blazer was a bright yellow patch, bearing his school's symbol. The tie that hung around his neck, swinging in front of his bright white shirt was a similar shade of blue as his blazer, with small yellow shapes decorating it. His shoes were black.
Put simply, the uniform of the school that he was in attendance at (being one of the 'transfer students') was fucking disgusting.
The automatic doors were closed. (Well of course they fucking were, genius! The power was off! How would they be able to move!)
The figure was debating over what he was to do. There were bound to be supplies inside of the shop. If he could get inside, he would be able to stock up and then hide out somewhere. He wouldn't have to move.
Suddenly coming to a conclusion, he dashed to his left, towards a small pile of car parts and various metal objects. Grasping a tire iron in his fist, he raised the steel object and struck the glass doors.
The surface cracked, creating somewhat of a spider web pattern across it.
Striking out again, his follow up blow prompted the door to completely shatter.
He needed to be quick. The sound of the breaking glass was so loud, someone must have heard it.
28 STUDENTS REMAINING
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