Vishwas Balla, sports editor:
At Cal High, a war is waged every second semester.
Friends become enemies. Money corrupts all. This is assassins season.
The senior game was originally planned to last three weeks when it started Feb. 11, but with so many participants, the battle raged on far past its expiration date. To everyone’s surprise, including my own, I was able to sneak into week four.
To be fair, I didn’t have a legitimate kill. Each time I got away by buying out targets and skateboarding skills that made me travel slower than walking.
But my day of reckoning was upon me on the Friday of week four. After a sprint that felt like it lasted my whole life, I was out. My day was going so well too. I got out of school early to prepare for my track meet. The sun was out and I was running well. That all changed when the assassins attacked.
Moments before my second race, I heard my name called only to find my assassins waiting for my meet to finish. I was boxed in. Both sides of the track were covered and the meet was ending any minute. I was a sitting duck.
I thought hard and came up with a fool-proof plan, or so I thought. Just as the meet was about to end, I saw my assassin slowly creeping onto the track, with a pace similar to Michael Myers. So I did what I had been doing all day. I ran. I ran faster than I had ever ran in any race. Now in theory the plan was perfect. I should have easily been able to outrun my assassin to the fence, step on a track box, hop over the fence and run free straight to my friend’s car.
Sure, it’s unorthodox, but it was my best shot to freedom. But in reality I went crashing into the box, got back up, scrambled over the fence, and stumbled away.
Then, a sudden rush of disappointment washed over me, the fence on the far side of the tennis court was locked. I spent the next 10 minutes hiding behind a crate waiting for my assassins to leave. As I got home that night I saw them once again waiting on my driveway, but luckily I was safe on my bike.
The next morning I received a text telling me that my targets got their target already, and with my assassins getting out on Friday, I left the game with less money than I had before.
When in doubt, quit.
Shivani Phadnis, staff writer:
Assassins made me realize that sometimes, it’s better to just give up. My partner, Sarah Flores, and I received our targets and made a plan, going so far as to find their address and a way inside their gated community, But on Tuesday morning, everything changed.
As I was peacefully exiting my garage, I spotted a neon green flash in the corner of my eye. They’d found me! Without a second to lose, I bolted back inside my house, slamming the door behind me.
What followed were the most tense 20 minutes of my life, peeking outside my house and wildly firing at my assassins. Eventually, I escaped my pursuers, scootering away victorious.
But it was all for nothing. Flores and I spent the next few days parked outside our targets’ houses, hoping to catch them off guard. Hours and hours were spent plotting, scheming, lurking. Hours were wasted.
“They fooled us!” I exclaimed on Thursday, after another failed stakeout. “Why even bother?” Flores agreed, and after a meal at Wingstop, we decided the effort just wasn’t worth it. So we threw in the towel, holing up in our houses until the round ended. Turns out, being hunted was a lot more fun than being the hunter.
Samantha Contreras, managing editor:
I thought Assassins was going to be a light-hearted activity, but little did I know, this game is no joke.
My partner Cole Fokas and I were very optimistic about winning. Our first week our assassins gave up before the game even started! As for our targets, we were successful with our kills. But week one’s successes gave us false hope. Week two was an entirely different story.
Not only were our targets the most off-the-map people, the students coming after us were straight sweats.
The first day of week two, our assassins were already at our homes 24/7. But on the second night, I had one of my most proudest moments. My sister and I were leaving Fokas’ house and walking to my car when I saw a Tesla in the corner of my eye. I correctly assumed it was my assassin and bolted to my car, surviving without being shot. But it didn’t end there. I had planned to drop off my sister at home and come back to Fokas’ house, but I knew that if I left his house they would follow me and shoot me at some point.
So as they were walking back to their car, I slipped out of the passenger seat and booked it back inside Fokas’ house without them spotting me.
And just as planned, they followed my sister home expecting me to come out of the car with her.
Five minutes later, I received a FaceTime call from my sister. As expected, our assassins were standing in the driveway in shock when they saw me on the other end of the phone and not inside the car.
They returned home in defeat. It’s a moment I will never forget. Unfortunately I got shot at the track the next day.
