BloodsportJackSFootball3

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John is the first person to speak.

"Does anyone else think that maybe," He pauses to point toward the office, "that woman just killed our classmate just now?"

None of the other students dare to either agree or disagree with him. At least, not while you all stand ten feet from the office door."We should check..." John looks directly at you, obviously hoping for backup. "Anybody?"

You inhale sharply. "If she did murder Erin, then you're asking us to face a killer. And obviously, getting past her to call the police isn't possible."

He sputters, "...but the girl...".

The students stare at the taller boy, waiting for his response. John seems to deflate as your reasoning sinks in. He'll die if he goes in alone, but it isn't fair to ask the others to risk their lives.

John sighs, and taps your shoulder. "Maybe someone else'll have a working phone at the field. "

You nod. The two of you start walking toward the football field, and soon, the rest of the class falls in step behind you. The short journey to the football field is a silent and awkward. Halfway through, other classes join you in marching.

John glances at various students in the crowd. Without tearing his eyes away from his target, he asks "You didn't do anything to Miss Grey, right?"

You hesitate, but answer honestly. He looks you over, and nods once. "I believe you."

Before long, you arrive at the grassy field. The grass is dry and you can tell it hasn't been cut in a while. The sun overhead is bearing down on you. Sweat drips across your face. You and your classmates take a spot near the middle.

You know for a fact the loudspeakers can only just barely be heard from here. However, the problem seems to have been fixed today as an announcement comes in at a deafening volume.

"I've been studying your country's bloody history. So many wars in such a short existence. I find it fascinating. "

For a brief moment, all the students begin talking at once.

"SILENCE!"

Definitely not an office worker.

"I particularly like the ones you call World Wars." She pauses.

The next statement and the giddiness in her tone leaves you floored.

"You are going to reenact them for me, children."

You shout back at the disembodied voice, "Are you nuts?"

However, the grass underneath your feet shifts, and you are plunged downward towards the earth. Through it, about six feet down.

In your hands is a rifle.

Peek over the top of the ditch

Stay put and process what just happened.


Bloodsport.
I Am: Jack S. I'm In:

The Trenches.

I Feel: Fine.
Kills: N/A.
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