REBEL'S CRRY: House O' Slaughter

His gaze fell on Sarah, sitting in a corner, her head buried in her knees. Whisky got up and sat down beside her. He struggled to find the right words, unsure how to comfort her.

Taking a deep breath, Whisky spoke in a calm, even tone, "The world is full of flowers... but life is just too short to discover all of the blooms. And these guys, have made our lives even shorter."

Sarah slowly raised her head, recognizing Whisky's voice. Their eyes met, and Whisky offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Sarah. I'll protect you until this is all over. I.. promise."

But instead of comforting her, Whisky's words seemed to unravel Sarah's fragile composure. She opened her eyes wide, locked onto Whisky's, and then buried her face in her knees once more. "Whisky... don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered, her voice trembling with sobs.

Whisky's eyes widened in shock, unsure how to respond. Sarah's body shook with quiet cries, leaving Whisky speechless and searching for words.

Just then, a voice boomed from the intercom, shattering the chatter among the students.

"Dear Players, get ready for your very first game. It's simple, but the stakes are high. Winners will receive prizes, while losers... well, let's just say they won't be so lucky."

The students exchanged nervous glances. What kind of game could this be?

EPISODE 4: THE LAST BROADCAST

A few minutes passed before the intercom crackled again. "We need the following players to come forward. They will represent the rest of you. The Ritchers, please step up."

Sarah's name was called first. She stood up, her eyes wide with fear, and slowly made her way to the front. Whisky watched her go, his heart racing with concern.

Next, a boy named Hart Mike stood up, joining Sarah. Then, a blonde girl named Wood Fay followed.

Finally, the intercom announced, "And last but not least, Hallow Whisky."

"I can't believe I'm teaming up with this trash," Mike said, his voice laced with disdain.

"Screw you, Mike," Whisky shot back.

"Guys, don't fight. We need to work together to get out of this," Sarah intervened, her voice calm and rational. " Whatever, which game we are going to play."

"Yeah, save your childhood behavior for after the math," Crystal added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

An awkward silence followed, before Whisky spoke up. "Actually, that wasn't kid's behavior... or what?"

Mike nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he's right. It wasn't."

The door swung open, and two soldiers marched in, collecting Whisky and the others. They were led through a maze of hallways, until they finally reached a large room filled with about thirty students. The door closed behind them, and the soldiers disappeared from sight.

As more groups arrived, Whisky noticed that each group had a different colored emblem on their left sleeve: red, yellow, green, blue, pink, silver, and orange.

Just as the room reached a fever pitch of conversation, the intercom with static.

"Welcome, students," the voice said. "You have been selected to participate in 'The Game'. Your goal is to send a distress signal to the outside world before the radio station self-destructs."

The robotic voice continued, "You have 60 minutes to complete your task. The radio station is equipped with all the necessary tools and equipment. However, be warned: the station is also equipped with security measures to prevent sabotage. Any attempts to disrupt the game will result in severe consequences."

The voice paused, before delivering its final message: "Good luck, and this is it... The Last BroadCast."

....

"God, great, they gave us this new outfit." Whisky said.

"Whisky, of all things, you're thinking about the new outfit," Sarah said.

"Not just the clothes," Whisky replied, "the food. It had felt like days since we barely had anything to eat. And these clothes smell right."

"Yeah, you're right," Mike added. "Right now, we can't tell if it's morning. It wouldn't be a shock if we're playing in the middle of the night."

"Okay, back to the game," Sarah said. "We need to figure out how to send that distress signal."

The group noticed computer consoles circulating the room, and everyone was holding the consoles, trying to figure out how to send the signal. Whisky's group, the Violets, did the same, as Fay sat down on a chair and took the starring of computer.

Fay was an expert on gadgets because she was a tech-savvy student who spent most of her free time tinkering with electronics and coding. She was part of the school's robotics club and had even built her own computer from scratch. Her passion for technology and problem-solving made her a valuable asset to the group as they navigated the mysterious game.

Fay was clicking away on the buttons, while Whisky was using a screwdriver to disassemble the console.

"Whisky, what are you doing?" Kacey asked.

"They wouldn't have left screwdrivers if they didn't want us to open these consoles," Whisky replied. "Besides, leaving the screwdrivers means there must be something we need inside."

"Yeah, you're right," Sarah said. "But first, let's see if Fay can find something."

The sound of fingers typing away on keyboards filled the air. After what felt like five minutes, they finally found something.

"Let's just use the screwdriver," Whisky insisted.

"Wait!" Sarah said, waving her hand for everyone to come and see. The message on the screen read: "Take the Chip, And Use the Map."

"What does it mean by chip and map?" Fay asked.

"Chip, Map," Mike chuckled. "Why are you laughing?" Whisky asked.

"Don't you see? It rhymes. Chip, map. Map, chip. The PS..."

"We get it, Mike," Whisky said.

Then Whisky added, "Yeah, it does rhyme."

"Where do we get the Chip and the Map?" Fay asked.

"Oh, the Map is stuck to that wall," Whisky said, pointing.

"And the Chip is in here, baby! So we just need to disassemble the parts... boom! We've got the chip!" Whisky exclaimed, holding up the small rectangular gadget.

"What the heck is that?" Mike asked.

"That's the chip, you idiot," Whisky replied, grinning.

"Oh, so now you're the genius? That's ironic coming from a dimwit like you!" Mike shot back.

"What the heck is that?" Mike asked.

"Guys, don't fight! Sarah said, intervening. " Lets go and get the map."

*_________________________

"NEXT TIME: MUSICAL CHAIRS."