With tired eyes Joon monitored  the wall clock, having finished counting the floor tiles and ceiling lights already. He had been cooped up in the little cafe for three hours, making it exactly 8:32 pm. There was plenty of caffeine around to keep him awake, but he needed the sleep. This was probably the only time it would be even slightly safe for that. Joon was too paranoid to go out in the open, and he hoped others thought the same. Probably the other idols had found an allie already though - maybe even their partner - so they could take turns on guard while the other slept.

If the risk of being murdered wasn’t so high, this would be quite a pleasant situation. Joon couldn’t remember the last time since debut he’d been alone and uninterrupted. No one yelled at him for an autograph or photo, or told him where to sit or stand on the stage. It was ironic how much choice he had in this game. When he ate six muffins out of the display case, no one came to scold him or write a nasty article about it. He scarfed down those muffins free of judgement. Fortunately the game was in an area abundant with cafes, restaurants, and convenience stores. Unfortunately, Joon did not get a gun, sword, or knife. He got a two metre long rope and his missing shoe.

“Didn’t even get a full change of clothing” he sighed, kicking the now empty bag

To convince himself that things could be worse he began to consider the alternative - he could be dead. Suddenly he heard the chime of a bell. Footsteps then followed, feeling a slight shake in the floor as the person walked.

“Crap” thought Joon

He had been lying down behind the service counter, his head on top of an upside down bowl. The counter was certainly long enough to conceal him, but the intruder easily could just look over top of walk behind and catch him. There were two plans; get up and risk a fight or stay put and risk getting caught and then a fight. Luckily he was saved by a familiar sound - Mir’s whining sniffle.

“ Bang Cheolyong! Where have you been!” Joon sprung up from behind the counter and around it meet Mir in a crushing embrace, unsure whether to sound more angry or relieved, “Thank god you punk”

“I’m- Ow! That hurts” yipped Mir in pain

Immediately Joon backed off, holding him an arm’s length away by the shoulder. A very noticeable blood stain filled up a quarter of his right sleeve. Mir had obviously tried to patch it up, an assortment of ripped cloth wrapped around the arm. Joon shook his head, stumbling over his words,

“Sorry. How did this happen?”

Mir neutrally replied, a slight crackle to his voice

“Accidentally got stabbed.”  

With a raised eyebrow Joon repeated,

“Accidentally?”

With a grimace Mir just shruggged.

“Uhm, nevermind. What number are you?” continued Joon

“I’m number 3. What’s yours?”

Extremely disappointed, Joon pulled down his shirt to show off his back shoulder. The number 9 seemed to be laughing as Mir oggled it, equally as let down by its existence.

“What you got in your bag?” suggested Joon hopefully

The green bag clomped on the counter, something substantial hitting the granite. With his good arm, Mir pulled out a pair of binoculars and a grey long sleeve sweater. He mumbled,

“It looks good with the collar”

The situation now worse, both Joon and Mir having tame weapons, was making Joon think that the game had a personal vendetta against him. Angrily he slapped the countertop while he hissed,

“I don’t care about the ing numbers. If you are in this game, you are my ing partner. Let’s leave, this place isn’t safe - considering that you wandered in.”

“Ok. Quick as possible. We need to avoid the danger zones they announced at 6:00 pm too” agreed Mir, tossing his bag on again

The two slunk around the city, slipping along the walls and window of buildings. It was completely dark outside, no street lights or fluorescent signs attracting attention. Joon thought it was eerie how dead it was - no pun intended. They passed a women’s clothing store that was multiple stories high, which would make a good place to spend the night. When they tried to go in, they noticed how heavily locked it was. They weren’t going to be sleeping among the newest arrivals after all. Half an hour, they found a second floor office space. Carefully they explored it, unsure if another idol may be awaiting there.

“Finally something is going right” whispered Mir, as they did a quick sweep through area

After ensuring no one was else around, Joon the lights. The office space wasn’t really an office space, but it wasn’t an apartment either. In the centre was a large room with a tall table, holes along the centre for chords. A large window was cut out of one of the walls, which overlooked a living room. That was quite standard though, a purple loveseat and coffee table being all. To Joon’s pleasure, there was asmall kitchenette with a full cupboards and fridge. Mir thought the highlight of the place though was the random in between area, with beanbag chairs and blankets. Sleep and food always was a positive thing. One thing they couldn’t find however, Mir shamelessly sharing,

“I really have to use a bathroom”

Now that Mir had mentioned it, he also could benefit from a trip to a bathroom. They briskly walked through the place again, on the hunt for the coveted prize of a working toilet. Eventually they arrived at a door with the universal symbols of a stick man and woman, after exiting out through a set of stairs.. Mir impatiently gripped the door handle while Joon leaned against the adjacent wall.

“Hands, in the air. Both of you”

Before Mir had an opportunity to turn the handle, the door swung open with a large clang, knocking him backwards. Startled by the shouting and slamming, Joon jumped off the wall with a yip. In the centre of the entrance to the bathroom stood a woman. Yes; a woman. She was of average height, and wore a pair of dark khaki pants with a loose dark blue shirt. Her hair was a brown similar to Joon’s natural colour; it hung in waves just above her shoulders. The most distinct feature were her eyes which had such a fierce glint that could kill all on their own. They had Joon and Mir’s attention, along with the gun she wielded. They were frozen in place, their mouths half open and arms half raised. The woman adjusted her aim and again commanded for them to put their hands in the air and behind their heads. Joon stared at the metal monster’s barrel, rapidly nodded while stammering,  

“Ok, ok, ok”

Hands practically super glued to their heads, Mir and Joon were standing cement blocks while the woman leaned towards them. Cautiously she circled them, her gun shining brightly while still pointed at Mir’s forehead.

“Are you armed” she firmly asked

Unstably Mir answered,

“N-no! We have nothing”

She clearly did not believe that claim, intensifying her stare. Closer she came towards Mir, putting her gun against the back of his head. It took Mir all of his strength not to whimper or yell when he felt the barrel touch his head. He looked over towards Joon, left with not much else to do. After tossing his bag down the stairs, her hands patted from his shoulders down to his feet as she frisked him. Loudly Mir let out the breath he was holding, relieved that she did only that. He watched as she flit over to Joon, doing the same routine. As she checked his pant pockets, Joon cleared his throat with a loud “ahem”. That was ignored though, as she continued to check for any hidden items. Taking a chance, Joon asked,

“Who are you? What group, or compa-”

“I’m not a cookie cutter, sugar coated, Asian pop star”  she snidely interrupted

Both Joon and Mir were confused, which just added to the confusion they still had over the fact she was a woman. She picked up on their vacant looks, explaining

“I report about cookie cutter, sugar coated, Asian pop stars. Expositories, exclusives, interviews, YouTube, Tumblr - if you know what Tumblr is - and my website; that’s me ”

Initially Joon was expecting her to say she was a friend of Mai and helped referee the game, and was here to kill them for rule breaking. The rule(s) they broke though, he did not know. It was quite a smaller burden knowing she wasn’t that. In an almost normal frequency of voice, Joon said

“I’m Lee Joon from MBLAQ and-”

“That’s Mir, the youngest member, rapper, and variety idol. It’s my job to know who you are” she again interrupted.

Still with their hands stuck to their heads, Joon and Mir side eyed one another, unsure what to think of this impatient, intimidating, and ferocious female. She had them at gunpoint. Standing there continued to be the only option (aside from taking a bullet). Randomly Joon muttered, to no one imparticular,

“She is a girl...”

She smiled at the comment. Slightly amused by this situation, she then chuckled

“Wow; earth shattering news”

Again Joon muttered away, a tad more audibly

“Why is she a girl?...”

She looked at Mir with a curious squint to her eyes, wondering aloud

“Did he never get ‘the talk’ as a teenager?”

The comic relief ended as her gun clicked away. She had shoved a new clip into the bottom, probably six rounds in it. Six rounds was more than enough to injure, torture, and/or murder the two of them. Also Joon had deduced it was a revolver. Revolver were damn effective in all the first person shooters he had played.

“I have no idea why you two guys in Battle Royale, but regardless you probably don’t belong here.” she flicked her chin at them, her hands occupied with the weapon,  “Backs against the wall Mir and Joon, and keep your hands raised.”

This wasn’t some goofy, surprise trick on a variety show. This woman wasn’t some cutesy, innocent host either. She was the complete opposite. Of all times to breakdown into tears, Mir felt it was acceptable to do so now. As he wobbled backwards, heavy tears dripped on to the floor from his closed eyes. It was difficult to grasp death, and the fact these could be his final minutes. What does one do when they know their expiry date? His eyes were squashed shut as he stood against the wall, refusing for the last thing he sees to be that woman’s face.

Meanwhile, Joon’s mind was not at all thinking about last words, regrets, or confessions. This woman; she said they they didn’t belong. Joon thought that she was what didn’t belong though. She wasn’t an idol, she wasn’t a man, so what reason would she have to have been selected? Why did she break the pattern? Maybe the answer wasn’t about her, maybe it was something bigger. Joon began to question himself rapidly about how she could have gotten here. There was fresh food in the kitchen, but there were at least a day’s worth of fresh dirty dishes. There also were a lot of blankets and pillows on the couch which appeared slept upon. She, or perhaps someone else, had spent a minimum of one night here. Had she signed up for Battle Royale, and as a perk she got access to the area a day earlier? Hypothetically if she had volunteered, what made her think she could out live 21 men? I mean, they had a physical advantage and also they had...

Out of realization, Joon breathed his last thought out,

“...partners”

He wasn’t great at math - to this day he was convinced 7 x 4 = 24 - but 21 was not an even number. That makes it impossible for all to have a partner. Unless, they aren’t the only ones in the game.

“Do you have a number?” blurted Joon

Her stiff fingers became even more rigid as they gripped the revolver. It was still aimed at Mir’s head, ready to take him out whenever she pleased.

“Well, well...” she noticed to Mir’s exposed arms held above his head, clearly eyeing the black 3, “This has become interesting”

Slowly she lowered her once cocked weapon, tucking it into her waistband. Mir and Joon watched as she proceeded to pull up her shirt. Their eyes bulged as they saw a number tattooed on her ribcage; the number 3.

“Our partners; they aren’t any of the 21 guys from the start”  exclaimed Mir  

“There are 21 of us too. Women, I mean. Idols” she added, covering up her abdomen

“What idols?” anxiously demanded Joon

“Anybody that would draw a enough viewers to satisfy the producers of Battle Royale” she honestly answered

Joon could feel the colour rushing out of his face and down to his feet. His palms became clammy as he clenched them straight by his side. They broadcasted this, this slaughterhouse? Just like they did for bad daytime talk shows and soap operas?

“Going by your expression, I am guessing you had no idea. Every year in South Korea it happens. Every person in South Korea watches it. Hell, I’ve been watching it since it is apart of Korean pop culture” she slid closer to Joon who kept his gaze to the checkered tiles, sadly stating, “It hurts how ignorant you all are. No wonder you were thrown into this corner of hell”

“But it makes no sense still. The companies, the fans, the well... I sound cocky, but how; us?” rambled off Mir, perplexed as to how this was logical

“Do you know how much money your companies make off of this? How much the fans are spending now? They are expecting you to die, advertising everything as the last, the final, whatever. Albums, posters, clothing, DVDs, everything you’ve simply touched; it’s making them double, no triple, what you could make them if you even survived” she harshly elaborated.

This was planned, not solely by the creators of Battle Royale but with the cooperation of their companies. The cost of success was their lives - literally. Not just stalkers, endless hurtful comments, exhaustion, a fake personality, and zero personal life. Why was Joon surprised that they were simply little pieces to be moved around a game board by real players? They all liked to believe they are true individuals, free thinking and willing people, but they are not. This was the end round and the winner took all. The woman stuck her hand out to Joon, prompting him to shake it. She calmly introduced herself to him and then to Mir,

“I forgot. I’m Ana Delacroix.”  

“Can we use the bathroom now?” sheepishly asked Mir,

Ana stepped out of the way, motioning towards the bathroom. She lightly chuckled,

“Go ahead”