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Battle Royale: 72 Hours


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im guessing Vince will be the runner up, and Foley will be third. Im not sure of the winner though, i just know it wont be either of those two.

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Is Corino STILL waiting there? Wouldn't it get boring? Even campers playing CS would get bored after a while, but that's just me.

Well, people who play CS don't literally have their lives on the line, do they? :P

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Well, people who play CS don't literally have their lives on the line, do they? :P

Some of them do. The ones who play professionally and without a win cannot put food on the table and will die.

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Guest Captain Foo

I don't particularly think that Christian will do much. He's still a little too cocky, depending on his Uzi. Yeah, it's a great weapon, but if someone sneaks up on him...

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I've got a feeling that Orton will hit Tazz, but not kill him. Then Orton panics, and gets caught, or something similar.

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Guest Captain Foo

Counter-Strike, a popular mod for Half-Life that tends to make idiots think they know way more than they do about weapons.

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This gets better and better. I have no idea who might win at this point, and even better, I don't know who I WANT to win. There's several characters that seem to be standing out, but every one of them is very well developed.

But I have to say, New Jack= Bad ass. I just like the way he's just all about the killing.

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I've read the book twice, and finally saw the movie.

I have to say this is easily as entertaining as either one of them.

Very much looking forward to the next update, and if you do a Battle Royale RPG....count me in!!!

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I won't be doing any BR RPGs. CSAMH already has that nicely taken care of.

Hour 23

Day 1

2200 to 2300

Back in the hospital, things were going from bad to worse. Not only were Konnan and Ron Killings wandering about in a hospital packed with not one but two deadly killers, nightfall had brought about a spooky atmosphere to the place, making their task seem all the more dangerous. Killings found himself constantly looking over his shoulder, unable to shake the dreaded feeling that somebody was following them. While they had their flashlights, they opted not to use it, fearing that the beam of light may attract unwanted attention.

However, despite hours of constant searching, BG James was nowhere to be found. Worse still, Konnan and Killings realized that it was them who was no hopelessly lost. Eventually, they had decided to call it quits, buttoning up inside a ward until daybreak. Assuming the hospital was not yet a danger zone, they would be fine.

“I hope he’s ok.” Konnan said, massaging his arms. “He’s ok, right?”

Killings: “I hope so. I mean, he does have the shotgun with him.”

Konnan: “Good point…but don’t you think we would have heard from him by now?”

Killings: “I don’t know…maybe he freaked out or something. Or he could be like us. Just lost and confused in this madhouse.”

---

Chris Sabin rubbed his knife against a rock, sharpening the blade. For all he knew the blade might have already been sharp to begin with, but it wouldn’t hurt to play safe.

When he had heard Low Ki’s name read out by Bischoff, he couldn’t help but wonder if Garrison Cade had been the one to do him in. Either way, Sabin was right. In this game, you were better off working alone.

So far, he had been lucky. Other than Low Ki and Cade, he had yet to stumble across any other wrestlers. Then again, it could also mean that he wasn’t good at spotting others. Who knows? Someone could be following him right now.

He glanced over his shoulder just to make sure, scanning the area as thoroughly as possible. Once he was sure that he was alone, he continued working on his knife.

---

BG James was certainly lost, but definitely not confused. There was nothing complicated about his goal, all he had to do was escape. Unfortunately, carrying out this plan was turning out to be harder than he expected. He had resorted to scratching the walls to mark his position, but it only served to confirm what he already suspected – he was going in circles.

As he passed by the same corner for the third time, he suddenly heard the shuffling of feet coming from behind him. He turned around just in time as a bullet flew past his ear, shattering a nearby cabinet.

He quickly ducked aside, as his attacker lay down a stream of fire, the bullets ricocheting off the floor. Rolling aside, he raised his shotgun, quickly squeezing the trigger.

Roddy Piper screamed as his hand (and GLOCK) exploded in a shower of blood. Holding his bloody stump with his other hand, he stared in disbelief as his severed hand fell to the floor. He watched as it bounced once, leaving behind a small red patch.

He came to his senses just in time as another blast from the SPAS12 missed him by inches. Trying not to think about his missing limb, he made a hasty retreat. Swearing to kill BG James first chance he got. He just got lucky this time, that’s all.

Meanwhile, the battle had taken its psychological toll on BG James. Upon noticing the blood on his clothes and body, he began to freak out, beating rapidly at his clothes as though it would remove the stains. Unable to bear it any longer, he tore his shirt off, before quickly running down the corridor.

---

Shane Douglas sat in a small log cabin, tending to his wounds. He had washed his eye out with antiseptic, and applied a small patch. It didn’t hurt as much now, compared to the rest of his body, which was still aching from the beating his received at the hands of Arn Anderson. It was a pity he was already dead, since Douglas had been planning on killing him. Oh well. At least he got what he deserved.

He grabbed his weapon, smashing it into a nearby table. At first, losing his ability to judge depth had caused most of his attacks to miss, but now he was beginning to get used to it. However, his attacks still missed occasionally, which is why he decided to spend a few more hours practicing, or at least to get some rest.

Somehow, with Anderson dead, he felt kind of bored. He knew it was an odd thing to feel considering he was in the most violent contest in the world, but with Anderson dead, he couldn’t help but feel a little...purposeless. His goal was to kill Double A, but Double A was already dead, killed by some random passerby, no doubt. So what was he to do now?

Thinking about it made him sleepy, and soon he found himself sound asleep.

---

Funaki sat against a rock, listening to TAKA Michinoku’s ongoing narration. Or rather, he was telling his story by writing on another rock with a piece of chalk, wiping it clean once he ran out of space.

As he stared at the writing, he realized his mouth was hanging wide open. Once the tale was completed, Funaki nodded to Michinoku, allowing him to wipe the rock clean one last time.

With a renewed purpose in the competition, Funaki sprung to his feet, revitalized by the good news. Michinoku had to restrain him, reminding him of the dangers that lurked in the night. Still, Funaki had every right to be excited.

For the fate of the entire contest now lay on their shoulders.

35 Wrestlers Remaining

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Hour 24

Day 1

2300 to 2400

Midnight was fast approaching the island. Soon, the first day of the contest would come to an end, leaving the remaining wrestlers with 48 hours to decide a winner. With almost a third of their numbers dead already, the death toll had nowhere to go but up.

In his office, Eric Bischoff smiled to himself. Everything was going as planned. Sure, the body count was slightly below standard, but it was nothing he had to worry about. As the time limit got tighter and tighter, he was sure more superstars would wind up playing the game. As long as he was in charge, he would ensure that everything was perfect.

Nothing could go wrong.

---

Nunzio closed his eyes, forcing himself to think. He had already missed one opportunity to kill New Jack. Who knew how long it would take before he would get another shot? Until then, he was at risk. Every moment spent following New Jack meant a chance of him being found out. After seeing what New Jack had done to D’Lo Brown and Arn Anderson, the sheer thought of New Jack discovering him was enough to send shivers down his spine. Even with the darkness shrouding his actions, he was starting to get a little bit nervous. He had to get rid of New Jack quick, but how?

On the other hand, New Jack was bursting with confidence. Already, three he had fallen before him, making him the most dangerous man in the competition. There was no doubt in his mind that he would walk away from this contest the victor. All he needed was a gun, and he would be unstoppable.

And just when he thought he couldn’t get any luckier, he found one.

It was a Smith & Wesson M19, the very same gun Jonathan Coachman had dropped not too long ago. New Jack couldn’t believe his luck. He had spent the last few hours scheming how to get a firearm of his own. Now, didn’t even need to bother. Reloading the gun, he flicked the safety off. He was already starting to pity the next guy who stumbled upon him.

Unfortunately, it just happened to be Ken Shamrock.

---

Shamrock glanced about nervously. He thought he had heard some movement nearby. He had already been caught off guard once. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He looked around nervously, crossbow raised. He finger hovered about the trigger, ready to fire at the slightest sign of movement.

Then, he caught sight of his stalker. His back was turned, still unaware of Shamrock’s presence. He smiled. His new acquisition was even dumber than American Dragon. He paused for a bit, wondering if he should at least wait for the figure to turn around before unloading his crossbow. It would be the honorable thing to do.

Nah.

He squeezed the trigger, watching the bolt strike its target. He had underestimated gravity’s effect on the bolt. Instead of connecting with his target’s neck as Shamrock intended, the bolt had struck his back instead.

New Jack screamed, as the bolt pierced his flesh. It wasn’t so much the pain that enraged him, but the fact that he had been caught unawares. He spun around, immediately squeezing off several shots behind him. Shamrock ducked, as the bullets whizzed past the spot where he had been standing.

Hiding behind a tree, Shamrock reloaded the crossbow, while New Jack fired several more shots at his position. He could feel the tree shaking as the bullets struck the bark. Rolling out from his position, he fired another bolt, this one piercing New Jack’s chest. Shamrock, now in the open, tried to jump back behind cover, but New Jack was faster than him. Pointing the gun at Shamrock, he squeezed the trigger.

Click. Click.

Shamrock stared as New Jack, as a wide grin spread across his face. While he had no time to reload the crossbow, he could just as easily take down New Jack in hand to hand combat. He charged forward, taking New Jack down with a spine buster. New Jack was quick to respond, kicking Shamrock in the face. Shamrock stumbled backwards, spitting a tooth out of his mouth. Meanwhile, New Jack was making a run for the crossbow.

Shamrock chased after him, quickly narrowing the distance. However, he was caught off guard as New Jack suddenly spun around, swinging his sword right at Shamrock. The attack drew blood, as a long thin red line appeared across Shamrock’s chest.

Shamrock simply grunted, slowly stumbling back. While he had barely avoided the first attack, the next one would be fatal. He stared at New Jack, and New Jack started back at him, grinning like a maniac. He raised the sword, ready to score the final blow. Ken Shamrock closed his eyes. He knew it was over for him. He had been defeated.

Suddenly, a third figure sprung out behind New Jack, pulling a jacket over his face. New Jack struggled to remove it, as the figure disappeared once more into the darkness. Pulling madly at the jacket, New Jack finally freed himself. It was a small distraction. New Jack still had the sword, while Shamrock had nothing.

He turned around, expecting to find Shamrock running for his life. Instead, he found himself staring directly into a crossbow. A cocky smile spread across Shamrock’s face, as he squeezed the trigger.

New Jack’s head snapped back, as the broke through his skull and pierced his brain. As blood began to drip down the face, he realized that he was dying.

New Jack, crossbow bolt protruding from his forehead, fell to his knees. A swift kick from Shamrock finished the job. The Original Gangsta, who had topped the first twenty four hours with an impressive three kills, fell backwards. His head bounced against the cold concrete once, then came to a rest.

New Jack was dead.

And with that, the first day of the contest came to an end.

35 Wrestlers

Well, that's it for Day 1. Updates will resume about one week from now.

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I'm amazed! When I heard New Jack had came upon Shamrock, I thought Ken was dead for sure! Excellent way to keep it interesting Gongsun, Shamrock is now one of my picks to win! Good job :)

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