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They see me walking, they hating
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
((G001 Bridget Connolly Start))

"Ms. Connolly, could you please give us your presentation now?"

Bridget stood up nervously, cue cards in hand. She had been preparing for this moment for the last month or more, but regardless the butterflies in her stomach wouldn't give in. It wasn't like it was the first time she ever did a speech. The topic wasn't even that hard.

"Good morning, my name is Bridget Connolly. If I may, I would like to take you back in time, to the 1940's. Imagine yourself, a young man freshly recruited into the military. Basic training was complete and utter hell, but you know that the worst is yet to come. You have been on active duty for no more than a couple months. Then the day comes. June 6, 1944. What would be known around the world as D-Day.

"Your in one of the lead landing crafts. Your commanding officer is yelling final instructions over the roar of the engine and the pounding water on the side of the vessel. You can see the beach in front of you. All is quiet, until finally the hellish sound of gun fire erupts from the cliffs ahead. You're ordered out of your landing craft into the water..."


Bridget Connolly woke with a start, her arm soaked by the water. She was lying face down on a beach, the sun slowly crawling up the horizon. The waves slowly lapped up the coast, each wave bringing the water farther away from the red haired girl. With a groan, she rolled away from the water, bringing herself into an upright position.

Her head hurt like a bitch, which was probably the last lingering effects of the multiple gassings over the short period of time. Flashes of what had occurred popped into her mind. The bus, chatting about god knows what with her best friend Raina, the dark room with the menacing people, the voice on the PA system. She had felt the urge to cry when their teachers were brutally and heartlessly slaughtered, but she had manage to keep her composure.

Bridget had always thought Survival of the Fittest was fake. Her sister Megan was in love with the show, although Bridget had always just rolled her eyes when it was on the TV. She didn't see the appeal of watching innocent people ruthlessly slaughtering each other. Now that she was here however, everything she saw was held in a different light. She silently hoped that Megan had grown out of that phase, thought she highly doubted it.

The redhead looked at her surroundings. There wasn't much to see, just sand, water, and a couple packs close by. One she recognized as her messenger bag, where she kept some spare clothes and toiletries. The other was foreign to her, a large duffel bag with "G001" stitched on the side. How did the saying go again? First is the worst? Of course, numbers mean shit in the end. It was just a way for the people running this... game to keep track of them. With a sigh, Bridget grabbed the pack, unzipping it and rummaging through it's contents.

There wasn't much in the bag, just some food which wouldn't last very long, along with a sparse supply of water, a basic first aid kit, a book titled "Danya's Guide to Survival", which Bridget promptly threw into the ocean, and what she presumed was her weapon. Pulling out the object by one end, she looked at the nunchaku. In the hands of someone who was trained in the weapon, it would be highly effective. Bridget was not that person. She decided to keep it anyways, tucking it into the belt of her pants.

This was just fucked up. There was no two ways to put it. As much as she didn't want to believe that no one would willingly kill another person, there was already three seasons of this fucked up game to prove otherwise. Bridget was prepared to do what it took to defend herself, but she was going to follow the creed of her dojo. Only fight when necessary, flight when it was possible. She just didn't know how long she would be able to stick to that. Only time would tell.
G068 Chan, Yuan Stephanie
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D-Day · The Beach: East