BATTLE ROYALE ♠ HOMESTUCK AU

You wake up in an empty room, seated at a desk and feeling like something must have hit you hard. There is a steel collar around your neck, one you cannot remove no matter how hard you try. You're not alone -- in fact there are 31 other desks just like yours, each with someone sitting at it. Some of them you might recognize. Some of them you won't. They all look to be just as confused as you are.

No one knows how you got there. No one even knows where "there" is. All you know is that something is about to happen, and whatever it might be, it doesn't seem good.

The door creaks open and a woman makes her way to the front of the room, stopping in front of the chalkboard. Behind her, two large trolls (bluebloods, from the looks of them) wheel in a cart full of dufflebags. Silently, she writes a single sentence on the chalkboard:

Welc0me t0 the Pr0gram.

Turning around, her expression seems to be almost blank. This is routine for her now. It has been for sweeps. The horrified faces of the youth in front of her, she has described on occasion as meaning, "jackshit". Nothing that occurs in the following four days will surprise her. She has seen and done, worse, and she will continue to see and do worse. It is part of the job, whether she asked for it or not. Hating it (which she does, she loathes it) is counter-productive.

"You may know me," she begins. "There are many stories about me, and I will preface this now by confessing that they are all true. For those of you who are strangers to me, however, my introduction will be brief. Known often to those of my world as the Demoness, I am nothing more than a Handmaid. I am here to complete a task, and that is all I am here to do. I will answer no questions, and you will only hear this once.

"You have been selected to participate in the Program. Again, you may have heard of this, but for those of you that have not, The Program began as part of the Battle Royale Act, instigated by Her Imperious Condescension. To clear up the hearsay, as far as you are concerned, the BRA is nothing more than a game. What politics lie behind it are now irrelevant. You will do best to not analyze the reasons behind this and accept that you are no longer citizens of your worlds, but instead you are players. From here on, I will refer to you only as such.

"There are 32 players. Each of you will be given a bag that will contain one map of the island, six bottles of water, a change of clothes, and a weapon. The weapons are random, a different one in each bag." She stops as one of her assistant brings her a bag, placing it on the desk in front of her. Unzipping it, she holds up a machete, turning to show her 'class'. "You may get lucky, but you may also get a dud. You will be required to strategize depending on what you receive." She sets the machete down.

"The game will last four days. The rules are very simple. You will be required to kill each other until only one of you is remaining. The winner will be greatly rewarded. Not only will you be able to continue living," there was a twinge of something in the Demoness' voice, as though she thought that reward was laughable, "you will be given many riches and become a high celebrity with political sway. You will no longer be a Nobody."

She purses her lips. "For those of you thinking of escape, cease to do so immediately. You have assuredly noticed the collars on your neck," she lifts her wand as she speaks. "At my discretion, I can detonate the collars. I assume I do not need to describe what happens when a bomb is triggered on your neck?" A pause. "Good. Now, onto the maps.

"When you receive your map, you will notice that the Island is divided into zones. As the game progresses, some zones will be announced as danger zones. Anyone in a "danger zone" at that time has one hour to escape before their collars explode. By the end, there will only be one zone available.

"As I explained earlier, the game will last four days. At the end of those four days, if there is more than one remaining, all survivors will die, also by their collars being activated. Unfortunately, that is how it must be, as much as it pains us to not have a winner in some games."

She stops then, as her spiel is done. Her usual spiel, that is. But this game is different. Her eyes drift to gaze at the players before her. "You are all very lucky," she states, though her tone does not imply such. "This game, you have Guests of Honor, special players that Her Imperious Condescension wants eliminated. She is happy to reward anyone capable of doing so with a handsome prize of their own, to help them in this game. There are four Guests -- two mutant bloods and two heiresses to the Imperial Throne. The prizes for each will be announced as the game goes on. Be sure to take advantage of this benefit if you are serious about your own survival."

She turns again to scribble something quickly on the chalkboard beneath her greeting:

0u0

"Now, shall we begin?"

( BLUH BLUH OOC STUFF HERE. )