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Dear God
So maybe he could die suddenly, without warning, at any time. He was having trouble remembering what exactly could cause the collar to detonate aside from trying to escape - something about going into certain areas at certain times. How he was supposed to know where to not go was entirely beyond him. Loudspeaker, maybe? He'd have to keep and eye out for something like that. See if they had set up some kind of PA system on the island, or something. Maybe they just expected everyone to know.

Or maybe not. That was the point. He couldn't know, could he? It was all part of the game.

Game. One word good at describing this situation. To some people, he assumed, this was like a game. Something fun. An adventure. To him, it was a nightmare. He wondered if anyone was watching him right now. Paranoid, Matt looked around the room - they'd have to have set up cameras so people could watch this, right? There weren't any cameras in this room, were there? The idea of someone watching all this made him feel... uneasy.

He wanted to leave.

"I, fuck.." He started talking, pacing around the room. "I don't know. I don't know, I don't fucking know. I just want to get the fuck off this shitty god damn island or wherever the fuck it is we are."

Dear God
Okay. Maybe rescue wasn't going to come. Maybe that's why it had really never happened before, as far as he knew. Because they knew that everyone would die if they even tried.

This wasn't going well. Not one bit. Not that it started off particularly good, but he almost would have liked to not have the proverbial noose around his neck pointed out so suddenly. He would have preferred to have his own crisis about this later on - right now, he felt like he should feel more concerned about avoiding getting murdered.

He was tugging on it. Trying to get it off. Slowly, Matt started to back away before tripping backwards onto the floor. Expecting Nate's collar to detonate at any moment, he put his arms up in front of his face in a pathetic attempt to shield himself from getting showered with bits and pieces of the other boy.

After a few seconds, nothing happened. Still half expecting him to explode, Matt stumbled to his feet, sputtering out some words of admonishment.

"Fuck, just - don't do that! You could get us both killed, or something! Fuck, oh shit.." He really hoped no one was hearing any of this.

So maybe this thing wasn't going to come off anytime soon. That was fine. Perfect, really. He was just so okay with this right now. Really, he'd never felt better in his entire life. Hand him one of these on the streets and he'd have gladly accepted it.

Or not. Maybe it was time to panic again.

Dear God
Maybe things were going to be okay. Matt wasn't normally the optimistic sort, but trying to keep positive - or at least as positive as he could be about this sort of thing - seemed better to him than lying down and letting someone kill him.

Nate seemed confused that they were on an island with an asylum on it - Matt was also confused, but more over the logistics of the whole thing. If the place used to be an asylum, then that meant it couldn't be all that far from civilization, right? Help would have to come eventually. Someone would eventually figure out where they were. They had to.

Then he pointed out the collars.

Of course. The collars. Almost immediately, he wanted to take it off, but he fought the urge. Who the hell knew what could set these things off? Tugging, slight winds, harsh words.. it didn't take a genius to figure out that testing the limits of these things wasn't a smart idea.

"Oh. Shit. Guess that kinda.. ruins any chance of a rescue operation. They'd probably blow all the collars if someone showed up."

He wasn't exactly keeping positive.

Dear God
Matt couldn't help but feel as though he'd gotten gypped - a selfie stick, really? Someone must've thought they were real funny, huh? He'd have liked a gun, or a sword, or something, but a selfie stick? Hell, he didn't even know if the terrorists had let him keep his phone. He sighed, expecting to find nothing immediately useful in his Danya brand bag. First-aid kit. Food. Water. Map. Remarkably generous for a bunch of pricks, but unsurprisingly lacking his phone.

He doubted he could even get a signal out here, anyways. Feeling just the slightest bit stupid for getting his hopes up (assholes or not, the terrorists knew what they were doing), Matt took out his map and looked over it. Seemed like they were on the eastern part of whatever rock they'd been dumped onto, located off the coast of scenic who the fuck knows where. Folding it up and putting it away, Matt started to stand up.

The look on his face was still fearful - he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Not the slightest bit athletic and lacking in any kind of weapons training, he noted that his odds of winning any fights with his selfie stick were poor. Naturally, avoiding that kind of thing was going to be one of his top goals. Maybe the first few days were the worst, he thought. Just have to get past this and figure out the rest later.

He was at a complete loss as to what he was supposed to do to actually survive, of course. Hiding could work - find some place to ride out the first couple of days. Maybe by then, rescue would come. Rescue would have to come, he thought. You can't just kidnap this many people and have wherever you dropped them off remain a complete mystery, can you?

Then, it happened. A pun. Matt hated puns for one singular reason: they just weren't funny. His reaction to this crime against humanity disguised as humor was immediate.

"Oh, come on.." Matt said, his contempt for Nate's joke clear. He could do better. "Let's just try and stick together, alright?"

He cleared his throat, trying to forget his equally awful pun. Figuring that sharing the easily accessible info he had was a good idea, Matt started to talk again. "We're on the east side of the island.. right outside an asylum, too. If you have any ideas, then.. uh, just say 'em, I guess."

Dear God
"That's a real relief," Matt said, not sounding the slightest bit convinced. Slowly, he moved to sit down - might be the last chance he has, for all he knows.

Looking at Nate, Matt unconsciously began to size him up. He was... short. Extremely short. That, and he looked too young to be in high school. Considering that a few terrorists had just managed to kidnap and transport god knows how many people to god knows where in god knows how little time undetected, he decided not to think about it too hard.

He really wasn't thinking too hard about what was going on. Mostly, he thought that the size difference between Nate and the staff was almost funny. Any other situation and he might've laughed, but waking up outside tends to leave him in a bad mood.

What he said next, he didn't really have any answer to. Just silence.

He was starting, slowly, to take in the gravity situation he was in - no more panic and anger, just fear. Pure, unadulterated fear that he was going to die here. That he was going to die a virgin, that he wasn't going to do any of the other things he had wanted to do with his life, that he was d-e-a-d, dead.

He looked down and held his head in his hands - this was definitely happening, wasn't it? It wasn't some vivid nightmare he was having the night before the senior trip. This was, for now until what might be the end of his life, reality.

He had to try, of course. He was trying to remember the lecture Danya, contender for world's biggest asshole, had given. Last man standing wins, but if you don't kill anyone, you win the grand prize of participating next time around. Great.

He was trying his best not to think about what he'd have to do if he wanted to win.

Looking up to talk, Matt pulled out and displayed his assigned "weapon". "Selfie stick," he said, sounding the slightest bit disappointed.

Dear God
Matt cringed. Screaming - why, why screaming? Of all the things he could possibly have done.. run away, attack him, shoot him, something, why did he choose to scream? Jesus, he really hoped no one else heard that. No one who's itching for a chance to kill someone, that is.

Then it hit him.. what if he was like that? What if this guy had a gun? A million different scenarios ran through his head, every single one of them somehow ending up with his death at the hands of what could be the world's jumpiest murderer.

Matt slowly started to move closer to the door, not taking his eyes off the nervous wreck currently getting up off the floor.

"Hey, uh.." He tried to think of a more eloquent way to say 'don't shoot me'. He couldn't. Not now, anyways.

"You don't have a gun, do you? I, uh, really don't want any trouble. Shit."

Failing to meet Matt's expectations of immediately trying to murder him, Matt eased up. Slightly. This might have been a mistake - he had no reason to trust this guy to walk in a straight line. He didn't know him, so why the hell would he trust him with his life?

Still, he asked for his name. Mistake or not, the consequences didn't seem to be too immediate.

"Matt. And, uh.. you are?"

Dear God
((Yeah go B024 - Matthew Moradi))

Don't panic, everything's going to be fine. Just stay calm and you can get out of this. You're smart, you can do this.

Sitting with his back to the wall of some run down building, that was what Matt had been telling himself, repeatedly, for the past couple of minutes as soon as the fear had set in. The fear that he was going to die and that a bunch of god damn criminals were going to make some kind of spectacle out of it - what for? He didn't pay attention to that 'Survival Of The Fittest' bullshit. Getting kidnapped by these sick fucks was something that happened to people that weren't him, people who he didn't know and didn't care about. Why the hell were they doing this?

First he felt afraid - then he got mad. Mad that this was happening to him, of all people, and for no good reason. He was going to die and it wasn't even going to be for a good reason. Why?

Desperately, he tried to calm himself down. Just keep calm, you can do this. You can make it out of this incredibly fucked up, outlandish situation.

Just figure out where you are, and..

Matt stood up and slowly backed away from the building he had woken up in front of.

He was right outside of a god damned church, or something. The universe had a fucked up sense of humor, he guessed. Matt went inside - maybe avoiding the great outdoors was a good idea. Why run off to find a hiding place when there was one right in front of him?

He wasn't exactly prepared to see another person - not this soon. And someone praying, at that. Fighting back the urge to immediately leave and find some other place to sit and figure out what the fuck he was going to do, Matt decided to interrupt this kid's little moment of quiet contemplation.


That was it - just hey. Slowly, he shut the door behind him, starting to move towards the back of the chapel. The kid was praying, so he guessed that he might have had some morals in him - irregardless of how backwards they seemed to Matt.

V6 Launch Date
B) shit

How do you feel about your weapon?
you can probably beat a man to death with a selfie stick when push comes to shove

that said: i am glad someone got the Complete Series DVD Of Drake & Josh. it's my biggest impact on SOTF and will remain so until the heat death of the universe