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One island. One winner. One hundred armed children. Welcome to Battle Royale. Jonas is one of one hundred children chosen to be parachute-dropped onto the island of Orø to compete in a game of life-and-death. Unfortunately, Jonas gets off to a terrible start, when he loses his gun. Now, his only weapon is a small dagger and it's up to him to evade ninety-nine trigger-happy opponents and survive.
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Seitenzahl: 36
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Volume 1
A Hailstorm of Bullets
Map of Orø
The Near Future
Climate change has altered our world.
Famines.
Droughts.
Floods.
Violent storms.
Even little Denmark has been affected by it, and there’s neither food nor resources enough to supply the areas that remain populated.
This is why the government has instituted ‘The Tournament’.
Every season one hundred children are selected to fight for the right to stay alive, and every minute of it is broadcast live on the only remaining TV channel.
The ultimate reality TV experience.
Chapter 1
The buzzing noise of the airplane engines felt strangely calming.
Jonas rocked back and forth on the bench that lined the inside of the fuselage and felt a lingering sense of panic at the back of his mind.
By right he should be terrified right now, but a strange calm had descended on him. It was as if everything was wrapped in cotton.
Maybe he was just feeling effect of the pills kicking in; the ones they’d all been given upon their departure.
He licked his lips and fiddled with his Glock again. The electronic safety catch was on, which meant it couldn’t be fired, but just weighing it in his hand gave him something to focus on.
The old airplane shook, and he felt a rush to his stomach as it dropped a meter.
Turbulence.
He looked up from his pistol.
A beaver sat on the bench opposite him.
He couldn’t tell if the person inside the suit was a boy or girl, but then again it didn’t really matter.
He tried sending it a smile.
The beaver remained motionless.
Jones looked down the length of the airplane cabin and took a deep breath.
Twenty children were seated on two benches that spanned almost the entire length of the airplane. Many of them were wearing colorful sponsored outfits or imaginative costumes.
That’s how this thing worked.
The more attention you got during the fight – meaning the more clicks and views you got – the bigger the prize you’d win. Provided that you were lucky enough to be the last survivor, of course.
Jonas turned his head and peered out of the greasy little window behind him. Then he spotted one of the other airplanes out there. A real rust bucket.
There were five airplanes in total.
One hundred children.
One prize.
Suddenly, the cockpit door opened, and a wiry guy in a camo uniform and shades came out.
He was carrying a tablet in his hands and a pistol in a holster on his hip. Jonas was pretty sure that his pistol didn’t have an electronic safety catch.
“I’m gonna do a final rundown of the rules now – just to make sure that you’ve all understood them,” he yelled over the engine noise. “In nine minutes, we will find ourselves above Orø – The Pearl of the Isefjord. Upon my command, you will all fall into a line, after which I will open the door and you will deplane – in a calm and orderly fashion, of course. The longer you delay deploying your parachutes, the greater your chance of touching down first and possibly getting a head start will be.
You will have twelve hours to wipe out your competitors on the island. Every hour, the game area will be reduced and you will be required to keep playing the game until a winner has been called or your time runs out.
If more than one player should happen to be alive at the end of the twelve hours, we will make sure that everybody loses at the push of a button.
Every one of you has been equipped with a collar containing a string of C4 explosives and a radio transmitter. If we detonate the charge in your collars, they’ll send your brain cells bouncing off your necks like corn in a popcorn maker.”
He held up his fists on both sides of his face and extended his fingers suddenly to imitate an explosion.
“You will not attempt to leave the island. You will not interact with the local population. You will not use vulgar language prohibited on TV, as we will be live on air. Is that clear?”
The whole group of children nodded silently.
“Very well then. When I call out your tag, you will respond with a thumbs-up. MasterBlaster?”