( This is a random, sandbox spin-off from the film, centering around the characters after death. This can include characters from the first and second films as well as OCs who have been killed in past Programs. Feel free to expand on canon characters if necessary within reason; take from the novel/manga if you like.
The setting is an empty island complete with abandoned town, surrounded by ocean as far as the eye can see, though anyone who tries to swim away is only abruptly pulled under and then washes up on shore. It's an abstract kind of afterlife; injuries can be inflicted but instantly recover, and there is no aging, hunger, pain, or death. The food and resources on the island never wear out, so eating is optional. There's time and weather, but not seasons; it's eternally a mild summer.
Naturally, some characters are likely to try to kill each other upon meeting, but when that doesn't work. . . how will they decide to cope with being stuck on this island for potentially ever with all these past classmates and less familiar faces~? )
A wild-haired young man awoke in the forest with a start, sitting up abruptly and gasping as if from a nightmare. His hands grasped at his throat, dark eyes wide.
He could see. That was what the youth who had moments ago been Boy #6 in the Program first came to realize. That Mimura kid had set off a bomb in a last-ditch effort to put a stop to Kazuo's massacre; Kazuo had taken cover in time enough to survive, but had not shielded his eyes quick enough. Next he knew he was walking in a world of black - and with a dull ache in his head, no less. He was sure, had he had his vision, the world would have been spinning anyway. He could feel the heat of the explosion's flames around him and tottered around carefully enough to avoid them. He then heard the 'pump' of a pump-action shotgun; he shot blindly in its direction, but next felt an impact in his leg and stumbled over. It had not even occurred to Kazuo he was done for. His only thought was to keep moving, keep shooting, keep killing. But after climbing to his feet, he felt something slam into his throat - or more specifically, his collar - so hard it knocked him back.
Boy #6 was dead before he hit the ground.
Now Kazuo Kiriyama awoke here. The realization that came second to his regained sight was his neck, bare of the metal collar he was so sure must have detonated at that last impact. Still feeling his naked throat, he looked down. His dress shirt looked clean and white, free of so much as a drop of blood, and it lacked the cut across the front that had been inflicted earlier... Though he still felt the weight of the bulletproof vest underneath. His black school coat, too, was no longer cut or stained. His gaze continuing down, even his shoes showed no signs of the Program; which vaguely disappointed him. He had rather liked the bloodstains on his sneakers. A tentative smile then crawled across his lips upon finding his Uzi beside him, the strap even still slung over his shoulder. A souvenir worth more than the bloodstains. Further to his side sat the dark green duffel bag that had been issued to him at the start of the game... He had not considered what might have become of it in the explosion. He quickly grabbed it to pull it closer and examine the contents, and, sure enough, everything he had stocked up on through the course of the Program was still there.
He lifted his eyes to take in the environment. He saw woods in every direction, though they were not terribly thick. Sunlight streamed in through the foliage to speckle the ground. Pulling his bag over his left shoulder and toting his Uzi on his right, Kazuo slowly got to his feet, staggering at first. His head felt heavy for a moment and he put a hand to it until he steadied himself.
Kazuo had never been the type to give much thought to the afterlife. No ghost had ever troubled him. As it were, he would assume his volunteering for the Program had been a dream - but his vest, Uzi, and bag remained as evidence, as good as ghosts. Did that make him one, too? His brows knit slightly at the thought. If he was dead, perhaps in a realm of the dead, how would he ever go about killing anything here? Well, he would have to find something first, assuming there was something - or someone.
It took only a few minutes of walking to reach what looked to be a view. He could see a valley below through the trees... A valley full of buildings. Perhaps not cluttered enough to be called a city, but definitely some form of civilization. He could not be sure there were people there, but it was certainly worth investigating. Just as the youth was about to continue, however, he froze at a sound in the vegetation behind him.
Kazuo Kiriyama's gut reaction was to whip around and start shooting, especially after having spent almost three days in a survival game like the Program. But considering he didn't know where he was or what else might be here with him, he only gave a slow tilt of his head to peer back toward the noise. Regardless, his hand hovered over his submachine gun, fingers crawling almost hungrily to grasp its handle.