REBEL'S CRRY: House O' Slaughter

Yesterday, Skyline High was transformed into a crime scene. Police cars swarmed the area, and investigators combed through the carnage. The air was thick with the smell of blood and death.

Officer Stuck, a ruggedly handsome man with a black beard and black hair, stood up from his crouched position, in his blue suit. His police ID hung from his neck, a constant reminder of his duty.

"The perpetrators of this massacre are heavily armed," Officer Stark said, his voice grim. "This was no ordinary attack."

"Officer Stark!" A women shouted. She had brown hair tied back in a ponytail, approached him. She wore a dark brown jacket, a white T-shirt, and blue jeans. Also with an ID hung on her neck.

"Yes, What's Up Lisa."

"We've found 842 dead bodies, and 563 are missing," Officer Lisa replied, her expression somber. "The situation is dire."

Stark's eyes widened. "Have we tracked the school buses?"

Lisa shook his head. "We can't track them. It's as if they've been wiped off the grid. Whoever did this must have had tech experts on their side."

Stark's face twisted in frustration. "This is unbelievable. They're smart, I'll give them that."

Officer Lisa's eyes narrowed. "The question is, what do they want with the missing students?"

EPISODE 3: DECEPTION

Nobody could get sleep. No dreams, no nightmares – just the crushing weight of horror. Not an illusion, but the real thing, filling everyone's mind with terror.

Whisky lay in the darkness, surrounded by other students their bodies sprawled on the floor. No light penetrated the shadows. He adjusted his position, his head inches from Sarah's.

Whisky's soft whisper broke the silence. "Can't sleep, huh?" he asked, his breath tickling Sarah's ear. She nodded, her tears falling silently as she stared into the darkness.

"What do you think they want with us?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Whisky's honesty was stark. "To be honest, Sarah, I don't know."

Time seemed to have lost all meaning. Nobody knew if it was morning, night, or somewhere in between. The room was a windowless box, with only a humming air conditioner to regulate the temperature.

The door burst open, and the room was abruptly illuminated by a harsh overhead light. Five soldiers stormed in, their guns at the ready. The students, still reeling from the sudden intrusion, were handed plastic bags containing black clothing.

Their sweat-drenched school uniforms were a testament to their ordeal, and Whisky's was stained with blood. The soldiers barked orders, forcing the students to change into the black clothes – boys and girls together, without regard for modesty.

At first, the students hesitated, unsure if this was some kind of twisted joke. But the soldiers were dead serious. One of them shouted, "Put on the fucking clothes, now!" as he pointed his AK-47 at the cowering students.

A girl trembled, "B-but...with the boys around?"

The soldier sneered, "I don't care about that. Just put on the black clothes, now!"

The students reluctantly stripped down to their undergarments – boys in boxers, girls in bras and panties – before donning the black attire.

The uniform consisted of black shoes, a crisp white shirt with a stiff collar, and a black, high-collared jacket adorned with a distinctive purple emblem on the left sleeve.

Then the soldier who had ordered them to wear the clothes said, "Kids... You are now the fucking 'Violets' ."

Three more soldiers entered, carrying large plastic bags. The students were handed bottles of water and a plain bun each. While some refused the food, Whisky devoured his, taking a huge bite of the dry bread followed by a long gulp of water. The bread was tasteless, but it was better than going hungry.

As others hesitated or outright refused the food, Whisky dug in with gusto eating as if he were sitting at his own kitchen table.

Sarah watched as Whisky ate with reckless abandon, seemingly oblivious to their dire situation. "Hey Whisky," she said softly.

Whisky looked up, water dripping from his chin. "Sarah, why aren't you eating? Aren't you hungry?"

Sarah's voice barely rose above a whisper. "I am... but what if it's poisoned?"

Whisky shrugged, taking another bite. "Why would they want to kill us with food? If they want us dead,...they should just use their guns,..gas bombs, or whatever else they've got, that us not poison.

Sarah considered Whisky's words, and they made a strange kind of sense. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and brought the bread to her mouth. She chewed slowly, savoring the taste. "Ahh, it's not bad," she said, taking another bite.

As Sarah ate, Whisky smiled, relieved that she was finally eating. He took another sip of his water, feeling a sense of gratitude for the small comforts in this strange and terrifying situation.

Whisky nodded in agreement. "See, I told you it's okay." Sarah and a few others continued eating, while the rest of the students remained skeptical, fearing the food might be poisoned or simply refusing to accept anything from their captors.

As they finished their meals, the soldiers ordered them line up and exit the room. The students complied, shuffling out into a long, winding passage. They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing off the cold, grey walls.

Eventually, they emerged into massive room filled with hundreds of students, all dressed in same black outfit. The room was a sea of anxious faces, each one etched with fear and uncertainty.

What caught Whisky's was that other students had different colours on their left sleeves. While Whisky's group had purple others had red, blue, green, silver pink, orange, and yellow.

The students' bladders began to protest the prolonged detention. The tension in the room was palpable, with fidgety legs and restless eyes betraying the growing discomfort.

The students exchanged relieved glances, after the intercom crackled to life, their faces reflecting a mix of gratitude and apprehension.

"Kids, I have given you time to chat with your loved ones," a voice boomed through the speakers. "This may be your last chance. And those who need the toilets, use them while you still can."

As the students filed out of the room, the sound of shuffling feet and muted whispers filled the hallways. Boys headed towards the male toilets, while girls made their way to the female toilets.

In the bathroom, the students hastened to relieve themselves, their movements swift and efficient. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant and the faint tang of fear. As they washed their hands, their eyes met in the mirror, exchanging nervous smiles and sympathetic glances.

With their biological needs attended to, the students returned to the big room, their faces set with determination, ready to face the uncertainty that awaited them.

Sarah's name was called out, and she made gestures trying to find out who was calling her. It was Linda, who was with Travis. They exchanged smiles, and Travis and Whisky exchanged fist bumps. "Hello, my guy," Travis said with a chuckle.

Linda's and Travis's emblems were green. They chattered excitedly, telling each other how much they had missed each other. It looked like they had not seen each other for months, maybe even a year.

After a while, Kacey and Crystal finally joined them. They had yellow emblems on their left sleeves. The group chattered excitedly, catching up on lost time.

"What do you think is going on?" Linda asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

"You mean this whole thing?" Travis replied, gesturing to their surroundings.

"Yeah, the black costumes, the food... what's the point of all this?" Linda asked.

"Maybe they want us to die in a healthy state," Travis joked, "new attire and all that."

Kacey chuckled. "Maybe you're right. But what about the toilets? You think they want us to die without messing up our new clothes?"

The group laughed, but the humor was tinged with unease. It was as if they were all thinking the same thing: this might be the last time they see each other.

After what felt like half an hour, the students were ordered to return to their respective rooms. As they parted ways, they waved goodbye to each other, the gestures tinged with a sense of finality. Maybe it was the last time they would see each other.

Whisky sat in the room, as the soldiers exited, shutting the door behind them. What's the whole process for? The new gear, the food... what's going on? The same question from Linda raced in his mind.

*___________________

"NEXT TIME:THE LAST BROADCAST"