V5 Announcements

Credit to the staff for writing the announcements: Clueless, MurderWeasel, Ruggahissy, MK Kilmarnock,Violent-Medic, and Rattlesnake

The First Announcement
THURSDAY, JUNE 14, 2012: UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

At the heart of an internationally infamous terrorist organization was not where one would typically expect to find a person who, a few short years ago, had been an aspiring criminal psychologist, but fate could work in mysterious ways. Monica Brown had been close to the top of her class before graduation. Her future had looked bright, and passably exciting, if perhaps not what all the crime shows made it out to be. She'd had some offers for jobs, and if they had not been exactly lucrative, they had at least been steady, with room for advancement. Her future had looked clear, like what she'd always thought she'd wanted. Her parents had been proud.

And then, a few days before finals and graduation, the man had shown up. He'd introduced himself as Jim, and had told her that he'd been watching her for a while. Then he'd laid out, with near-perfect precision, how she'd cheated her way through every year of her exams, how she'd selectively plagiarized sections of her papers. And then, when she'd been ready to deny, to argue, to try to think her way out of getting caught and protect that boring-yet-steady future, he'd revealed that he wasn't anyone concerned with academic dishonesty at all. No, he'd let her know he had a job offer for her, one that would be both financially rewarding and exciting.

She'd taken him up on it so quickly, even he'd seemed a little surprised.

Monica liked to refer to her position as Director of Lateral Thinking, but officially she was in the Chief of Security. Oh, sure, there were people who outranked her, people who shared in her responsibilities. She reported to Sonia Nguyen and Steven Wilson, worked hand in hand with Lourvey and Abby and the rest of techs, but to all of them, the security and smooth operation of the game was simply one of many duties. For Monica, it was the sum total of her job.

She knew that failure here would be bad news. She knew she would be incredibly lucky to survive anything like what had happened last version, even if she wasn't killed during a hypothetical attack. Greynolds had made it clear that one did not retire from the Arthro Taskforce, and that there wasn't any position in the organization for a chronic failure. The idea, rather than being frightening, was energizing. It gave her motivation, a connection to her work, a drive. The cheating back in school, it had never been solely because the work was too hard for her. That slight element of danger, of rule-breaking, kept her focused. It let her care.

She took a long sip from her glass of water, rubbed her forehead, adjusted her glasses. Her hair was starting to get greasy already. She hadn't showered since the day before the kidnapping, focusing on sleeping as much as possible in the run-up to the students' arrival. Proper rest was vital to doing a good job, and she was preparing herself for the performance of a lifetime.

Her office was not a large room, and it felt even more constrained, overflowing as it was with a small refrigerator, a half-full trash can, two large, plug-in fans, and mountains of computer equipment. Had she not been such a thin woman, it would have likely been difficult to maneuver around. One console fed into ten separate monitors, each one tracking a different student. There were dedicated techs watching people more specifically, largely based on her directions, but Monica preferred being able to keep an eye on things herself. There were little behavioral things that the techs would miss, just like there were technical things they would be able to spot that she was completely ignorant of.

Thus far, the game was progressing nicely. Monica had insisted that paper and writing utensils be taken from the students but left on the island. The grunts had bitched about that for weeks, and more than once she'd been ribbed for her logic at the lunch table, but she had remained resolute. It was simple, she'd explained.

By removing the paper from the students' possession, it made undetectable communication inconvenient, stopping anything from being hatched spur of the moment. By leaving paper and pens available around the island, they allowed students who were intent on sneaking things under the radar to acquire the means to do so. They were sure to figure out some way eventually anyways; by leaving them a fairly easy option, the taskforce controlled the form that was most likely to take. Students who sought what they had been denied were, if only in a small way, rebelling against the implicit rules of the game, which marked them as possible troublemakers. Anyone so much as carrying a pen had someone watching them closely, and Monica herself checking in on them periodically. Everything she'd seen of them thus far had only solidified her confidence in that decision.

She had only read the student profiles a few days before the abduction, to better keep herself free of preconceptions. They were all stored on her laptop, which sat one the left side of her desk, at a right angle to the keyboard controlling the bank of monitors. The profiles, a series of documents in a database accessed through a spreadsheet of her design, were arranged not numerically, but rather by who seemed most likely to cause trouble. Monica had a system down pretty well there, a mix of traits suggesting rebelliousness, similarities to previous problem children, and gut instinct. Anyone who even slightly reminded her of herself got marked in red as someone to watch.

The last thing on her desk was a netbook, opposite the laptop. It had one purpose, and one purpose only: with about fifteen seconds of work, Monica could detonate any student's collar, or, if that seemed too extreme, send a warning beep or activate a speaker in their vicinity to address them. Greynolds had told her not to be shy about doing what had to be done, and if the thought of killing someone with the push of a few keys was a touch disconcerting, there was also something more than a little exciting about the prospect.

In a way, she was just as much a player in this game as any of the students. The only difference was, she was specifically competing against the cheaters, and she had all the tools she needed to win.

As a girl on one of the screens scribbled on a piece of paper, Monica took another sip of water and reached for the phone hung on the wall behind her to check in with the techs.

The first day was almost over, so the desperation would really be sinking in soon. That meant things were about to get interesting.

FRIDAY, JUNE 15, 2012: UNDISCLOSED LOCATION, 9AM

Sitting behind the desk, Tracen did his best not to fidget. He'd been here before, once or twice, in preparation. He knew how to handle the equipment, had taken a few dry runs with it, but it was different now that he was about to speak for real. He'd talked with Greynolds about it, taken what advice he could, though the man had been rather apathetic towards the whole process. Tracen had listened to and watched the tapes of his father performing the same duty, had tried to study them for technique. It was difficult; the man had changed his presentation often, the only thing binding the performances their energy. It was not an energy Tracen was sure he could, or wanted to, recreate.

He had a sheet of paper in front of him, on it written the names and causes of death, just in case he found himself at a momentary loss. He'd watched the tapes, several times apiece, and was pretty sure he wouldn't mess anything up. It had been memorable, more so knowing it had just happened than watching tapes of kids who'd died years before.

The technician on the other side of the room flashed him a thumbs up. It was just like the practice runs. Tracen took two deep breaths, let the tension flow out of him. He took a sip of coffee from the mug that was the only thing besides the paperwork and the microphone in front of him. Then he nodded. There was a click, and a light beside the technician flashed green. All across the island, speakers roared to life.

"Good morning, everyone. I hope those of you who slept got some good rest. The rest of you, well, at least you're alive to hear this. That's more than I can say for some of your classmates.

"Yes, we've already seen eight deaths. That's a pretty lousy rate, but I have hope for you yet. After all, there are dangerous people out there, and I'm only going to be telling you about the ones who succeeded. At least twice as many didn't quite manage to make things stick.

"First to die was David Russell, who either decided he couldn't deal with the stress or went absolutely bugfuck. He walked right off a cliff, splattered all over the rocks, and earned the prestigious Remi Pierce award for lemmings.

"After that, our first kill came at the hands of Theodore Fletcher, who gunned down Gabriella Parker. Saying 'pretty please don't shoot me' turns out to not be as effective at keeping you alive as, say, running away? Who could've guessed?

"Anyone?

"Bueller?

"Oh, that's right. It's common sense. Best keep that lesson in mind in the future. You're in a no-holds-barred match now, and relying on mercy is a great way to get killed. Remember, only one of you is going home.

"A short time later, Hansel Williams, our very own resident cowboy, decided to become an outlaw. It might not've been his first stickup, but his encounter with Daniel Whitten was by far his most deadly engagement of the day. Points for marksmanship, Williams. It almost makes up for your poor showing at the amusement park earlier.

"Theodore Fletcher didn't quite manage a hat trick, but he did collect a second point when he gunned down Dan Liu. Dan thought he might've found a good ally, only to discover he'd fatally misplaced his trust. Someone didn't look to his right like I told him to.

"And Jason Meyers didn't keep an eye on his own allies. He was gunned down by Joe Carrasco, who was supposed to be his friend. I'm glad to see that someone took away the right message from our little movie screening.

"Another enthusiastic participant was the up-and-coming Katarina Konipaski. Kelly Peterson wandered away from her companion, and reaped what she sowed when Konipaski reaped her. Death isn't the only one packing a scythe.

"But good old Death was busy today too. I've looked over the tapes a few times, and I can't quite pinpoint how it happened, but a simple trip led to a collision that sent David Zimmer for a swan dive off the hotel's balcony. I'd watch out for safety rails elsewhere. You know how it is; things got rushed and we didn't have time to get the inspectors in. Don't tell city council.

"Finally, Iselle Ovalle-Vandermeer put her softball skills to use and knocked Sven Olsen for a home run he won't ever be getting up from. Kids with kids just don't have it easy here, do they? Better get used to the Tyke, Mr. and Mrs. Victorino, unless your daughter manages to step it up.

"As promised, there are some places you need to stay out of. Our danger zones for today are The Amusement Park, The Airstrip, and The Hotel. Oh, and one last little rule I forgot to mention: we have a little vote here in the offices every day, about who had the most impressive kill for the day. The winner gets a new weapon and, as a new addition this year, a little something else. Today, we picked Katarina Konipaski. Congratulations, Katarina. You can make your way to The Amusement Park, where there's a box with a gun in it, two cans of Coke, and a double cheeseburger waiting for you. Hop to it, and it may still be hot.

"I'll catch everyone who survives tomorrow. Do a good job, and we'll cook up something special for you, too."