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The start of something truly absurd; Since nobody else is here...
Topic Started: Aug 8 2010, 04:13 PM (5,260 Views)
KingKamor
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(B094, Ridley Landon, Start)

He had always loved to sleep in, even when he wasn't asleep. This morning was not different, though he had a strange dream. Survival of the Fittest? Yeah, right. Like his shitty little school would have been chosen out of the entire fucking country. He was awake, but still beyond groggy. It was only when he tried to turn over and find his comforter that he felt the striking chill of water splash into his face.

With a start, Ridley shook his head and sat straight up, his ass planted halfway into a puddle of mud.

"What the FUCK?!" He shouted out, his thoughts going to how much his mother would kill him for getting his nice black button-up shirt so dirty. It wasn't long after he shouted that he noticed where he was: not where he thought he was, that's for sure. His eyes widened as they darted around, surveying the area, when he felt a bag with his hand to his left. The bag had been placed upon a dry fallen log, half of which was submerged in mud. So whoever brought him there had taken more care in the placement of a duffel bag than him? Not cool.

It only then dawned on him that the dream he had just had was real. With a quick slap to his own cheek-- and an adjustment to his dirty glasses-- he assured to himself, to his horror, that it was not a dream. Not one bit.

His stomach was suddenly replaced by a void as the fear began to creep in. He thought to himself, Duffel bag! Bags have that useful stuff in them, right? That announcer guy said so, so I should get what I got. His hands quivered violently as he knelt in the mud in front of the log, failing to grasp the zipper a couple times before he managed to get it open. Just as the creepy-sounding guy on the PA system said, there was a map, a compass, some crappy food and water, and-- "A gun...?" He whispered to himself. Something that can kill the baddies? No! That's wrong! They're all just kids like me! Despite his gripes, it was as if a wave of cold had surged through his body, freezing his limbs to the point where he was steadily able to reach down and pick the weapon out from the other items.

A strange sense of security engulfed Ridley as he stared at the firearm. A slight chill ran up his spine. One not too different from the ones he gets whenever he buys a new game. He was unsure how he felt about his own reaction, but stowed away his meditations for later. Another glance into the duffel revealed that they were even kind enough to provide an instruction manual for the weapon, but Ridley wasn't about to be grateful for his situation. Thinking again on the situation brought back the shakes from before.

He had only seen guns fire in History channel documentaries and video games, and he didn't even play that genre very often. Now he was expected to kill everyone whose faces he had seen every day for the past three or four years? Sure, there were the many unsavory folks in the class, but just because they picked on him did not mean that they deserved death. He just had to remember that the whole mess was NOT a video game.

His reading of "Gunslinger Girl," however, bestowed upon him at least one rule of gun etiquette: "The gun is always loaded, even when it isn't," and made sure not to point the gun towards himself as he carefully set it down on the log next to the bag. Just as he was about to crack the manual open-- always read the manual before playing a new game-- Wait, game?-- he heard a shout from behind him, beyond a few soggy moss-covered trees. As quick as he was able he took the gun, snatched one of the magazines from the bag and shoved it into the cavity at the bottom of the gun. Unless "Black" lied to me, I pull back the top part and--

Sh-chk. The top bullet slid into the barrel slightly louder than he had intended. Nonetheless, the sound was oddly satisfying. Satisfying enough to produce a split-second grin on his face beyond his control.

He zipped up the rest of the duffel and ducked behind a nearby tree, peaking in the direction of where the shout had originated from. Beyond the trees he was dumped in, he saw what looked like a beach with a sunken ship at a dock, plus two figures at the end of said dock. He wasn't able to determine what they were doing, and decided to stay where he was, gun in hand and double-checking that the safety was indeed off. The thought of having to pull the trigger shook him to the bone.
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KingKamor
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Ridley made sure not to stick his head out from beyond his cover. In video games, if you're seen, you get shot in the head, and that wasn't on his list of things to do today. Then what am I going to do today? Do it to someone else? The very thought of it made him angry at himself. He had not ever considered himself one of those stupid Halo gamers who rant on and on about headshots and the stupid camper that killed him yesterday online. Character development and a good story was what made him come back, so he hardly ever played first person shooters to begin with.

Getting off topic! He shouted to himself, silently chastising himself for letting his thoughts wander.

" There's someone watching us."

If he hadn't snapped himself out of it, then he would never have heard one of the girls say that. He even had to spend a couple seconds deciphering what he had just barely heard. A swelling of anxiety rose within his chest as he held his breath and froze himself where he sat, his back against the tree between him and the girls.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. I still don't know if they're friendly. Can anyone be friendly on this island? If I walk out with a gun after hiding from them, what does that make me to them? I don't want to kill anyone, but I have this stupid fucking gun! If I put it away, they'll just ask me what my issued weapon was! FUCK!
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So she has a gun, then? He thinks to himself, shaking slightly in both fear and anticipation. The second emotion baffled him. Wait a second, calm down for a second. If they were playing, then they would have shot by now. No one playing would want a real alliance, right?

Ridley's brother was an avid viewer of Survival of the Fittest, so he knew the gist of what kinds of things went on in the "series." Some people played, others made alliances to stay alive longer. Only those playing did any real killing.

I know that I have a gun, so if worse comes to worst, I can take them.

The thought confused him a little, but he decided to take a chance. Holding his gun up with his fingers wrapped around the barrel instead of the handle, he waves it above the log so that they could see it being held in a non-hostile position.

"I'm coming out!" He calls in a shaky voice and heaves himself out of the moist tree stump on which he had been sitting on for the last several minutes. Keeping the gun raised and pointed into the sky, he raised his other hand as well in a show of peace, as it were. Once he was sure that they saw that he was willing to stop the fight before it began, he lowered the gun and stuffed the barrel into his deep cargo pants pocket. It made for a comfortable holster for the time being. Before he forgot, he took it back out and flipped the safety back on so that it wouldn't shoot him in the foot on accident. "Let's talk."
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"Wanna chill?"

Ridley hadn't heard such beautiful words ever since he and everyone else were gassed on the bus. The thought of relaxation was a welcoming one, but his surroundings kept him in focus, if only just. He maintained a good ten or fifteen feet from the girls, not daring to get any closer in case they decide it a good idea to jump him. They both looked nice, but he wouldn't put it past anyone at that point.

"I'm okay. Relaxing is the last thing I want to do right now." He said in response to Ema. Her hair color surprised him a little, as did Eve's. He had always liked when girls had strange colored hair, and these two were right on the money in that regard. Focus, Rid! With a shake of his head, he listened to what Eve had to say.

"What's your name, and why the fuck do you deserve to survive?"

He finally recognized Eve as the famous teen mother from the school. He never thought too hard on her situation, usually keeping his thoughts to himself whenever she was brought up in conversation, but he understood that she had more to lose in this game than he did. "My name's Ridley. Or Rid, or whatever you want to call me. At this point, we're all just walking targets. Why should I survive, though? Because I don't want to die, that's why." He paused. "Heh. I guess that already puts the three of us at odds, doesn't it?"

He managed to crack a smile. A small one, but it was still a smile. Wiping some of the drying mud off of his pants, he took the time to look at the girls' bags. Ema's didn't look too full or clunky, so it didn't have anything big in it. Eve's on the other hand, looked like it had something bigger than normal stuffed into it.

"Okay, you two know what I have for a weapon, so what do you two have? If either of you are useful, then I'll stick around." A little too blunt, but it wasn't as if Eve was one to talk.

For a moment, he thought that he heard something fall with a thud behind him, but a glance in that direction told him that nobody was there. Nobody that he could see, anyway.
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The newcomer almost made Ridley draw his gun if it weren't for her hands being up once he saw her. If she had not announced her presence, then he would have tried to shoot. It was only after that thought occurred to him that he remembered that the safety was on. He may or may not have remembered that if he had indeed drawn the thing.

The girl that had appeared was completely covered in dirt and mud. Ridley guessed that her makeshift camo was the reason why nobody was able to see her despite knowing from which direction the noise came from.

"Alright I'm not sure if you guys have notice me but... I come in peace for now. Temporary truce.

Right, "temporary" being the key word, I take it? Ridley thought to himself. He turned to the girls and whispered, "I'll stick with you two for now, okay? I promise that I won't hurt either of you as long as you promise not to hurt me." It sounded corny the instant after he said it, but he didn't rightly care at the moment. The new girl was an unknown factor in the equation, and he wasn't about to let a good alliance go to waste because of that.

"I uhhh... I would also like to know if there was anything I could trade for that sword of yours miss... What's your name" She said while pointing with her crowbar towards Eve. "I'll be willing to give up my crowbar and other supplies for it."

"Trade? Seriously?" Ridley said with a hand on the handle of his gun, which was still holstered. "You come in here and start asking for our weapons right out of the gate after a shitty introduction like that? Fuck you!" It wasn't necessarily the fact that she wanted to trade that bothered him, it was the fact that her issued weapon was clearly that crowbar in her hands. It's much easier to kill people with a sword than it is with something meant to pull nails out of a wall. If she only wanted to defend herself, then the crowbar may have been a better choice than the sword ever would have. "You're playing, aren't you?"
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Ridley's trust was still far from being won. Despite the fact that the girl seemed to have agreed to Eve's terms (aside from the whole candy bar thing), he had a feeling that there was no way that the four of them would be able to keep it together till the end with Michelle involved. The fact remained that the girl still tried to make a deal to receive a deadlier weapon, and that was a pretty tough barrier for her to get past before he accepted her.

He did not remove his hand from the handle of his gun, even when he stood before Michelle without the aggressive pose he had before. There was still the problem of the sword, which was the most dangerous thing next to his gun. "Fine, but I have another condition," he said loud enough for Michelle to hear. "Ema, unless you want to use it, we need to ditch the sword. We'll throw it into the ocean."
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Ridley couldn't believe what he was hearing. One girl was obviously playing, one girl was so out of it that she didn't hear a thing he said, and all the last one seemed to care about was chocolate. "Fuckin' a." He said. "Look, the reason I want to throw that thing away is that I still don't trust Little Ms. Crowbar over there. The instant we fall asleep or turn our backs, she'll just take the sword and kill us all at once. If I were playing, then that's what I would do. It's easy to say you agree to certain terms, and that doesn't by any means tell me that she's telling the truth."

He glanced at the bar of chocolate in the girl's hand. "And fucking hell, all you care about is getting your sugar fix? Simple pleasures, is that it? To hell with that! And what, you think that you can just block bullets as long as you have that sword? This isn't a movie, you know! And I'm not stupid enough to shoot randomly, I at least know how to hold this thing, and that's helluva better bluff than drawing a fucking sword!"

He never acted like this at school. It was the first time he had truly let out his anger on someone freely. Not that it mattered, though, since he was on worldwide television at that point. Peoples' opinions on his behavior were the lowest things on the list of subjects he cared about at the moment.

Ridley glanced at all three girls, one at a time, and let out a sigh. "You know what? Forget it. Knowing me, I'll just screw things up for all of you, no matter what anyone does. I'm outta here." He picked up his duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder. He took out the map and looked it over, looking for a way around the swamp, if there was one.
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"Alright moron listen up. First your scenario is stupid. Why the fuck would I steal the sword when I could just take your gun? You really think I'm stupid enough to look over a gun for a sword? Second you wanted your only potential ally to throw away her sword? Great job at building trust you moron! Last well you need to work on that paranoia my friend..."

Ridley immediately let one hand go of his map and placed it on the but of his gun. The one he trusted the least was trying to make nice, and he wasn't about to trust her. "My paranoia stems from your bullshit and the fact the we're on this fucking island. You're the one who's strange. You aren't even scared, are you? Now get the hell away from me." But she was clearly insistent on something or another, that much was obvious. Once she placed her hand on his shoulder, his hand wrapped around the handle of the gun and squeezed tight, his index finger teasing the trigger.

"We need a way to fix that so let's work together on it alright?"

His eyes narrowed, and he looked her right in the eye and said, "Get the hell off of me, or I'll--" The sudden jab to his stomach surprised him, to say the least. It hurt like a motherfucker and there would probably be a bruise later, but he was able to keep his footing and the grip on his gun. He thanked God that he was only out of practice instead of completely out of shape, so his abs took the brunt of the hit. His lungs still emptied a lot, so he coughed several times as he dropped his map and swiped Michelle's hand off of his shoulder. He held onto the gun for all that he was worth, but did not draw it from his pocket.

With a jump away from Michelle, almost losing his footing on the sand, he clutched his stomach and shouted with all his might, "You BITCH! Don't you fucking DARE talk about paranoia and trust and suddenly hit me! I may not be good at these kinds of things, but who's the moron now, huh? As far as I'm concerned now, everyone is guilty until proven innocent, and boy did you just step on a big-ass fucking landmine." He felt a distinct sense of deja vu. Ridley had experienced this same scenario several times in the past few years. Someone would pretend to be nice, pretend that they want to talk. You hit it off with them, they seem like a friend, and then they gather all of their pals and beat the living shit out of you. "And in case you were wondering, I said nothing about you stealing my gun earlier because I told myself that I would NEVER let someone like you have something this dangerous. YOU GOT THAT?!"

His heart pounded against his chest as if trying to escape his rib cage, and his breathing had become deep and coarse.

He wanted to shoot her. More than anything, he wanted to shoot her. His trigger finger had just developed the biggest itch he had ever experienced in his whole life, and that arm had begun to shake and wouldn't stop unless he gave in to his urges. The face in front of him was a lion in sheep's clothing, just like everyone else who had made his school days a living hell ever since elementary school. "It's people like you who are always...!"

He stopped. The itch went away, and the shaking had ceased. If Raine hadn't popped into his head for the first time since he had arrived on the island, he really would have drawn that gun. The barrel was already halfway out of the folds of his pocket. Shit! How could I forget? What the fuck is wrong with me? He shoved the gun back into his pocket and said to Michelle, "You need to start thinking about what the hell you're really doing on this island. If you do that again, you're fucking dead!" Leaving his map behind, he turned and began to run along the beach towards the south, where the map told him there weren't any cliffs to impede him in getting around the swamp.

((Ridley Landon, continued in Run From Your Troubles))
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