This is it, the Finale. Will the omnipotent Chemistry Department reign victorious, or do the biologists have an ace up their sleeve…
An eerie chill descended on the school; it had been 5 hours since the last of the physicists had been thwarted and the atmosphere was palpable. A sense of desperation littered the ground amongst the shells of once full balloons and the odd year 8 who was caught in the crossfire. Unfortunately, they were merely collateral damage…
Just as the flatness seemed to climax, a raucous stampede of footsteps and giggles erupted. It was the Core Maths class led by Mr Clare. They weren’t out of the fight yet! The likes of Cameron Paul and Jamie McCarroll flooded the biology corridor, ravaging carefully arranged displays and leaving a path of destruction and terror in their wake. As they tore apart their final display they approached Mr Raybould’s classroom. As they carefully entered they were shocked to find…nothing. The herd wandered into the back of the classroom, peeled back the door to the biology cupboard and slinked in.
A blood curdling scream erupted as thousands upon thousands of creatures crawled out, latching onto the maths students and mauling them to death with what appeared to be enormous backpacks. A sanguine river flowed through the classroom as the final maths student fell. A desperate gasp left Mr Clare’s mouth as Mr Raybould and Corby grinned, emerging from their offices. They had genetically engineered a year 7 to replicate via mitosis and have enhanced muscular strength. They planned on adding increased speed to the roster but found that year 7s already came with this function. They watched as their creations charged through the school and brutally mangled and destroyed the rest of the maths department, who still hadn’t decided on a correct value for 0 to the power of 0. Mr Corbould was the last to go, who unfortunately couldn’t rugby tackle over 3000 year 7s. That was it. Maths was gone. Their indecisive nature and love for proofs distracted them from the main goal; total domination. The hoard were multiplying all the time and seemed an unstoppable force and it seemed unlikely that the once-mighty chemists could do anything. All seemed lost.
Mr Dixon’s face filled with rage and power. Every single clone stopped and shivered. The natural fear of the might of the Second Master was one thing the Biologists couldn’t splice out of any year 7s’ genes. He glanced at the floor and smirked as he whispered, “I’ve still got it”. Mr Dixon sternly sent each and every clone back to Blake rendering them useless. On top of this, each year 7 clone was forced to do 20 lateral flow tests and the Second Master ordered Ms Stratford to quadruple the amount of “register your lateral flow” emails sent, just to rub salt into the wound.
With no army left for the Bio Department, it was down to hand to hand combat!
The Chemists lined up on one side of the corridor wielding Bunsen burners, half-smashed conical flasks and Mr Coventry even managed to weaponise a heat proof mat. Opposite them, the biologists. Mr Corby in full ballroom attire ready to prance around anyone who came too close and counter with a scalpel fresh from a heart dissection. Mrs Stevens, dual-wielding hockey sticks, was followed by Mr Raybould who had got his hands on flesh eating enzymes and filled a water gun with them. A desperate hush blanketed the battlefield. Just as Mr Coventry frisbeed his heatproof mat at Mr Corby- who caught it mid-air- there was an abrupt knock on the double doors enclosing the battle ground…
“Hello is Mr Dixon around? I’m the ISI Inspect-“
The Inspectors’ smile morphed into pure disgust. Mr Dixon dropped the two burettes he was intending to use as swords and ran to apologise and greet her but it was too late; the damage was done. The war was over…and everyone had lost.