V7 Storyline

On the 16th of May 2015, the sixth iteration of Survival of the Fittest ended. It was not broadcast to the world until the first of June. The vigilante group known as S.T.A.R. attempted to intervene but were fed incorrect information by the terrorists and subsequently lured into an ambush that left them all but wiped out, little is known to the public about the whereabouts of the former members but the rumors paint a picture of political limbo. These two factors prevented any rescue attempt and one hundred and six students from Cochise High School's senior and junior years lost their lives.

The three-year delay between events caught the world off-guard. President Oscar Chase McAllister was unable to avoid the backlash from having two classes abducted by the terrorists, and his potential successor, Constance "Connie" Massey, was generally seen as too safe and moderate a candidate in the face of McAllister's own failures and lost the election to controversial political activist and radio-show host Jarod Canon. Canon, running on a platform based around national defense, including vowing to stop local terrorism and other incidents of mass violence easily swept the 2016 presidential election to become president.

Canon has so far courted controversy in many different areas of his presidency but he has been consistent on his attempts to capture the terrorists. He has kept the manhunt McAllister begun active and has called for more international cooperation although so far this hasn't generated any results.

Meanwhile, out of the eyes of the public, Interpol began their own investigation into Survival of the Fittest following the conclusion of the sixth iteration. Although this investigation is a closely guarded secret even within Interpol itself so as to prevent leaks of any kind.

8AM, Friday, June 1, 2018: Chattanooga, Tennessee

It was a hot and humid day in Chattanooga as Vice Principal Silvia Garcia watched the senior class students of George Hunter High clamber onto the buses for the end of year trip to Washington, D.C. As was customary, Coach Skinner was stood next to Coach Oppenheimer with a clipboard, ticking off names as the students dropped their overnight bags off and climbed aboard. It didn't matter who else was chosen to chaperone. The two coaches were always there because truthfully they didn't have much of anything to do by the time June rolled around. As Ms. Garcia watched them tick another set of names off the attending list her mind wandered back to the briefing they had been given prior to setting off. It was one of the only times of the year that Principal Davey Cromwell was disciplined and authoritative about anything. 'We all remember Cochise' was something he routinely brought up around trip time. She couldn’t help but nod and agree. There was always the chance that something like what happened to Aurora High or Cochise High happened to another trip.

For their part, all the chaperones knew and were aware of the dangers. They all had to take courses regarding recognizing a potential abduction scenario. As soon as the buses had arrived all of the chaperones had climbed aboard and conducted window and door checks. It was an important part of the new processes and she ensured that it was carefully and thoroughly done.

Finally, all the students were on board and they could set off. As Silvia stepped aboard she saw the driver again. It had unexpectedly been a young woman, younger than she herself was in fact. As the chaperones had gone through their checks she had stood off to one side chewing gum and looking at her phone, while capturing the attention of some of the students. Now the only difference was that she had put sunglasses on and was lent over the steering wheel looking at her phone, she was still chewing gum. Silvia felt somewhat sorry for her because she assumed the driver hadn’t wanted to end up in her current career. She smiled and nodded a greeting as she took her seat and got a disinterested wave in response.

Then they were off.

2AM, Saturday, June 9, 2018: Washington, D.C.

And then it was over. Ms. Garcia considered the trip a success. There had been a few issues, but in a long multi-day trip there were always going to be things that happened. But despite all that, the end of trip meal had gone off without a hitch and then they'd gotten back to the hotel to collect their bags without incident or anyone losing anything. So Silvia felt relieved to be getting on the bus knowing everything had gone well.

Stepping aboard the coach she saw the driver sitting watching her with a slight grin.

“Happy to be heading back?” She asked as she sat herself down.

“Yeah, not really a fan of big cities. I more prefer nature myself. Soon I’ll be able to get back to that.”

“I bet.” Ms. Garcia replied as she settled into her seat for the next nine and a bit hours.

Then they were on their way.

Silvia didn’t know when she had dozed off but she was woken up by the sounds of complaints from around the bus. As she looked around she could see that they were pulling over onto the side of the highway.

“What’s the problem?” She asked to no one in particular.

“We’ve got an urgent fault here on the panel so I have to pull over.” Was the drivers' response. “Sucks, but it’s the law and shit.” She continued with a nonchalant shrug.

A quick check of her phone gave Silvia the time of two o'clock in the morning. She sighed outwardly.

After they had pulled over the chaperones all had a discussion about the situation. They were halfway between Chattanooga and Washington waiting for the replacement bus to arrive.

“Man, this is a pain.” Coach Oppenheimer said scratching behind his ear.

“Not much we can do I’m afraid.” The driver responded from where she was sat. “Just hang tight.”

Eventually, at about four o'clock in the morning, the replacement bus arrived and the driver got out to go talk to her colleague, a bald man with a thick mustache. After some kind of conversation which caused the man to scowl as their driver laughed, she returned.

“Alright we're going to load everything onto the new bus and then we’ll be on our way.”

“We need to inspect the new bus to make sure all the doors and windows can open. It’s part of the new trip protocols.” Ms. Garcia said.

She could see their driver trying not to roll her eyes and failing.

“Look, I don’t want to be rude, but we’re hours behind schedule anyway. The windows are fine, trust me, plus if they’re not we’re going to have to sit on this highway even longer.”

There was a loud groan from everyone on the bus at that.

“No, no.” Ms. Garcia started to say as she began to rise from her seat. “We have to check.”

“Silvia please, we all just want to go home. Can we just get on the bus.” It was Coach Skinner asking and she could hear in her voice the tiredness and desperation.

Ms. Garcia looked around at all the tired faces on the bus—both her colleagues and her students and sighed. “Fine.”

After everyone was aboard and they were back underway the events of the day seemed to catch up with everyone fast. The students and some of her colleagues started to drift off. Silvia couldn’t blame them. She let out a yawn as she looked out the window of the bus, her eyes slowly closing. Thinking some fresh air would do everyone some good she raised her hand up to open the window only to find it stuck tight.

“Man, that sucks for you.” Came a muffled voice from behind her.

Silvia turned to see the driver standing behind her with a gas mask on. She didn’t have any time to react before a gun was brought down onto her face.

4AM, Saturday, June 9, 2018: Roanoke, Virginia

Josie was cruising along when Shamino called her over the bus transmitter.

“They bought it then?”

She pulled the receiver down as she drove. “Of course they did. I’m charming as fuck.” Josie grinned as she practically heard Shamino rolling his eyes through the silence on the other end of the line.

“I very much doubt that.”

“Boo you. Anyway, I had to deck one of the teachers in the face to make sure she went out. That’s not going to be an issue is it?”

A sigh from the other end of the line.

“Did you have to or did you want to?”

“Pass.”

“Whatever Knight, just get them to the drop intact.”

“You got it,” Josie said as she hung up. She grinned to herself and turned the music up. It was funny how’d he phrased it. They needed them intact so they could tear chunks out of each other, obviously.

Whatever, she’d get to experience it all up close anyway.

Saturday, June 9, 2015: Undisclosed Location

Ms. Garcia was woken up by the sounds of panic coming from the students. As she regained consciousness her nose started to hurt from where she had been hit. The last thing she remembered was the driver striking her as she tried to open the window. As she sat there and replayed everything in her mind she remembered what had happened and realized with a start what it meant. As she looked out into the room for the first time she saw them. All of her students tied down to chairs and arranged in a semicircle in front of her. She tried to keep herself from panicking but failed when she tried to move only to find that she was herself cuffed to a chair by her arms and legs. There were footsteps behind her and she heard a sigh.

“Now I heard you were all a rowdy bunch but really this is too much."

The cries and yells from the senior class of George Hunter High continued unabated.

“If anything I’m doing you a favor.” The man behind her whispered under his breath as he pressed something metallic against the back of her head.

“Attention!”

Then everything went black.

The gunshot silenced the kids.

"It never fails.” A man with glasses and a ponytail said, holding up the gun so everyone could see before dropping it to the floor. His age was hard to discern, his youthful looks appearing to take five years off whatever it truly was. "Anyway, now that you’re all silent, here are the ground rules for the presentation you're about to receive. No talking, no struggling, and no crying." The man moved to the front of the stage, stepping over the slowly forming pool of blood. He was in a sweater and let his arms hang at his sides as he moved. "My name is Jim Greynolds, you won't be seeing me again unless something unlikely happens.”

"I'm merely out here to let you know that any funny business will be dealt with like so.” He raised one hand and gestured to Ms. Garcia’s body, “This presentation is very important so I must stress the zero tolerance policy when it comes to whispering and passing notes. But!” He clapped his hands together and took a step back. “With that all out of the way, I would like to formally introduce you to the one and only Danya!"

Tracen slowly stepped to the front of the stage. It had been three years since the last time he had been required to make this sort of speech, but he was practiced now. If he gave one more he’d match his father's number for full versions. It was a slightly surreal thought.

"Hello, students of George Hunter High. For those of you who don't know what this is or who may have known but have since forgotten or chosen denial, allow me to clear up any confusion. My name is Mr. Danya. Welcome to Survival of the Fittest."

He opened his arms out wide in a brief flourish. The students fit their part stayed mostly quiet. Tracen grinned before continuing.

"Since I know pop culture and the news cycle is constantly moving and each new day brings a new scandal I don’t blame you if you don’t fully understand quite what this is. Luckily for all of you, I am here to explain.

"Once our presentation is complete you will be rendered unconscious again. Then when you next wake up you will be on an island. There will be a metal collar around your neck. This collar will be packed with explosives. If you try to escape the island or try to tamper with the collar, it will blow up and you will die. That is a guarantee. In addition to this, we will make parts of the island off-limits every day. These are called Danger Zones and if you enter them or stay in them past what we recommend, you will meet an explosion. I’d advise against it. They aren't a friendly folk.

"In addition to those basic details, you will be provided with a backpack containing all your survival basics: food, water, a map, a first aid kit etc etc.”

Tracen rolled his hands over dismissively before continuing.

“The fun part is that you will also be assigned a random weapon, these could be good, bad or ugly but never fear if you don’t like the one you start with you can always go out and acquire one that’s more to your tastes.

"The end goal here is to be the last person standing. Only one of you gets to win and go home. As soon as you wake up your first thoughts should be how you’re going to be that one. There can only be one of you and if there can only be one then,”

Tracen shrugged as he moved across the stage.

“Everyone else has to die. Now if you are the last one standing then good news, you get to go home. Unless of course, you didn’t kill anyone, that isn’t what we want, we want someone really invested in our little game, someone who has the right attitude. If the last one standing didn't kill anyone, well, that’s a party foul. So as punishment, you'll be put right back in for the next version, where you’ll either learn your lesson or be taken out by someone who actually cares. But if you want to be selfish and believe that you’re proving some noble ideal, go right ahead, waste your classmates' lives.

"Now, I’m sure that was a lot to take in all at once, especially in your current situation. But luckily for all of you we’ve prepared some additional materials to help you understand.”

Tracen stepped to one side and gestured to the wall behind him, which lit up with an image projected from the back of the room, the picture and sound quality were clear.

The picture depicted an overcast gloomy day. There were two girls in what appeared to be a garden. One had bright pink hair while the other was smaller with a brown bob. The smaller girl was lying down seemingly preparing to sleep. They were talking.

"Don't worry about it." There was a brief pause and then she continued. "You didn't do anything. Thanks, though." Then she let out a yawn and fell asleep.

The pink haired girl looked at her for a long while before, eventually, she broke the silence, speaking quietly.

"Rene?"

When Rene didn't respond the pink-haired girl slowly and meticulously began moving. She opened up one of the two bags they had and withdrew items from it, loading them into the other one, which she swung over her shoulder and onto her back.

Then quietly and carefully she knelt beside the smaller girl and pointed a gun at her head. After a brief pause, she fired, the crack echoing through the surrounding area before everything went silent. She stayed staring at her until the projection faded.

The lights came back up before Tracen started to speak again.

"Those two," he said, pointing to the wall where the image had been, "were best friends. Remember that, whatever you think you know about your friends remember that everything changes once your lives are at stake."

It was a lie but they didn’t know that.

Tracen opened his arms in front of him, gesturing as if to encompass the whole room.

"Think about those around you. Do you hate them? Do they hate you? Do you have any grudges or does someone secretly harbor a grudge against you? These are all questions you need to consider but remember this. Every one of your classmates must die if you want to go home.

"I'll be checking in with you every day. I'll let you know which of your friends died and who it was that killed. I'll also be kind enough to let you know which parts of our arena you can't go to so be sure to pay attention, your life may be in danger if you don’t.

“It’s not all doom and gloom though. We also like to reward those we feel are really getting into the spirit of things and as such we will dispense a weapon and a lovely freshly cooked meal to whoever scored the best kill the day before. So be sure to tune in.

“Now don’t forget one important detail about this event. Everything that takes place during the course of the game will be broadcast over the internet using cameras we've placed around the island. That means that your families get to follow along with everything as it happens. As such, we think it would be very selfish of anyone to prevent the families of the others from keeping up—not to mention an annoying security concern for us—so if you tamper with or damage a camera, we’re going to blow you up. And of course, while we know none of you will want to let your parents down, we’re sure they’ll be forgiving of you what you have to do to make it back home to them. In fact, we think all your loved ones will just want you back no questions asked.

“In addition to all of that, we have a new rule this go-around for you all. If any of you are thinking of trying to set fire to any of the buildings on the island or try to make a bonfire in an attempt to try signal someone let me save you some time. If you try this, we’re going to be treating it with the same level of seriousness we treat camera vandalism by which I mean, we’ll just introduce you to your collar explosives.”

Tracen paused and pretended to think, scratching at his chin.

“And I believe that is it. Have fun kids.”

Then he began to walk offstage only stopping and turn back as he reached the point where he’d disappear from view.

"Oh, silly me, I nearly forgot the most important rule of all."

He casually strolled back to the front of the stage with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Sorry, sorry, that’s on me. But on a more serious note. Someone has to die every day. If a day passes and someone hasn’t gotten a kill—and don’t sit there thinking an accident or suicide counts because they don’t—we'll blow up all of your collars, call it a day, pack everything up and try again next time.

"And now that’s everything covered. Good luck. Enjoy the first day of your new lives, however long or short they may be, and remember to have fun!”

With that, Tracen turned and removed a gas mask from a case in the wall. He pulled it over his faced and started walking offstage giving the assembled students of George Hunter High a wave as he did so, at the same time the lights in the theatre went out. A faint whirring noise could be heard, and the air in the room stirred. Within moments, the first student's eyes drifted closed, and one by one the rest followed into unconsciousness, to reawaken on the island.

Friday, July 13 2018: Chattanooga,Tennessee

Due to some messages sent by those on the buses, there wasn’t alarm when the scheduled arrival time was missed. Traffic was also bad so it was assumed they had fallen behind schedule, hardly anything untoward or worth fretting over. But then hours kept rolling into hours and messages weren’t replied to. As a result, the police were called in.

The search was thorough and many different jurisdictions worked together but there were many places that the bus could have turned off. It was hard to track all of them and with only so much manpower and hours they could only do so much.

There was a feeling deep in everyone’s minds that they knew what had happened. That there was only one reason a bus full of school kids could seemingly vanish of the face of the earth. President Canon called for the military to assist over Twitter while those in Chattanooga gathered on the George Hunter High playing field. The search continued but nothing was found. Everyone knew what it meant but no one vocalized their thoughts.

Over the next few weeks, of course, people started to talk. President Canon appeared on an interview and brought up the “the terrorist organization” and called for Congress to launch a probe and investigation. That opened the floodgates. The murmurs became full discussion and debate. The methodology, timing, and choice of school were all discussed. As much as the government tried to downplay it, much was made of the bus going missing from the nation's capital, questions were asked about the failure of highly touted policies.

So it came as no surprise to anyone when on the thirteenth of July at around nine o'clock in the morning, a social media bot, originally uploaded to the deep web began spamming as many high traffic feeds and hashtags as it could with a message made up of just two characters.

V7

The bot was located and shut down but by that point, the damage was done. The message was out in the wilds of the internet and the word was spread.

By 9:15 am the mainstream news had made the link and were running the story.

President Canon began tweeting shortly after when he was informed of the situation while having breakfast.

The world at this point was aware of what was going on.

The bot returned an hour later and began spamming the same message, this time with an addition, a unique link to a webpage. The webpage was plain black with the only thing on it being a countdown of half an hour.

At exactly 10:30 am the feeds went live.

Survival of the Fittest V7 had begun.