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The Only Way Is Up; TOPIC CLOSED
Topic Started: Aug 21 2010, 11:56 AM (9,502 Views)
Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
((B105 Start))

It had started as a relatively sleepy afternoon. Jeremy Franco had woken up. He had shuffled around a little and unzipped his duffel bag. He had blinked. He had rummaged through the thing lazily, poking around for the familiar shapes and textures of food. He had yawned. He had started to think, in a cursory manner, about the gravity of the situation. He had felt something long and wooden in his bag, like a pole. He had started to take the thing out to see what it was. He had had a few more idle thoughts on his likely-impending death, and whether he'd be willing to take a life to defend his own. He had thrown those thoughts as far to the side of his mind as he could manage, because holy shit sword-cane.

Swooooooooooooooord-caaaaaaaaaaaaane!

What followed was around seven minutes of swordfighting with imaginary opponents with his trusty fucking sword-cane, holy shit. This was actually preceded by around thirty seconds of confused attempts to operate the twist on the thing and get the sword fully out of its unassuming cane exterior, but Jeremy chose to expunge that part from his mental retelling of the situation. He slashed, he stabbed, he whirled around. He blocked attacks from imaginary opponents (probably fucking ninjas or some shit like that). He held the cane part in his left hand and used it to sweep the ninjas' legs out from under them. He drew the sword over and over again, with increasing ease and style (holy shit, he was getting good at this already).

He glanced around furtively and saw nobody, not quite putting two and two together about what these tall, camera-like structures were. He put on a little grin, confident that no one had seen his display. Though it would have been awesome if they had. He should fucking charge people for it.

As good as his lot in life was, however, Jeremy did feel a single regret stinging at him. He was wearing a snazzy suit, he had a sword-cane (holy shit!), and he even had his totally sick shades. But he'd forgotten to pack a fedora. It was probably the biggest mistake of his life to date, and he wasn't about to let himself off easy for it. He started to make a mental list of priorities.

1) Obtain a fedora

That was it, for now.

Jeremy started to hike in a random direction- presumably in search of a fedora- and soon enough came upon a fellow student. Long hair, nice ass, pink skirt. A hot chick! Yessssssss. My first ally is going to be a hot chick! Jeremy did his best to strike a gentlemanly pose. Standing up straight, one hand resting on the cane he was gently leaning on, one hand held up by his face so he could tip his imaginary fedora to Hot Chick.

1) Obtain a fedora
2) Ally with hot chicks


Jeremy greeted his new ally as a proper gentleman would. "Heeeeeeeeey!"
Edited by Jonny, Aug 21 2010, 06:35 PM.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
"You! You fucking IDIOT. You lost my map, you little shit! UGH! I can't believe this!"

The chick, whose name Jeremy now remembered was Leila, seemed to have some unkind words for him. In another set of circumstances, perhaps Jeremy would have gotten angry. He would have perhaps lost his calm, businesslike cool. He would have let the hurtful words get to him, and spoken in a way that would have only exacerbated the situation. His head would have filled up with prideful and vindictive thoughts. But right now, there was only really one thought worth thinking:

Holy shit, she's hooooooot when she's pissed off.

Jeremy took stock of the situation. She had a nice face and a bangin' body. She had a temper and was thus potentially good (and hoooooot) in a fight. And what's more, he had something she needed. A map! Such a simple bargaining tool, and all he had to do to secure her alliance was offer it. This was perfect. Jeremy held all the cards. He pulled all the strings. All the pieces on the chessboard were his pieces. All that was left was to pull her into his spiderweb.

There was also the matter of the other guy who'd just moseyed up and asking for directions. Fuck off, other guy, I'm in the middle of a sales pitch right now. If the guy was really desperate, Jeremy could help him out after he'd secured an alliance with Leila. But for now, he was a distraction from the task at hand, and best ignored.

Jeremy held his hands out non-threateningly. "Leila!" It took every inch of his willpower not to break into a hilarious rendition of a particular Eric Clapton song, or to fall to his knees and hope she got the reference. "Look, hey, hey, I'm sorry! Okay? That was my bad, look, lemme make it up to you. Alright? Look, here, how's this, you're a loyal customer of J. Franco and Associates, so how about- check this out- I hook you up with a map. I got one too, so don't sweat it, you're good." Jeremy did his best to keep his gaze focused on her eyes and not her tits (nice tits, Leila!), since that was pretty much the first thing you learned about making a sales pitch. "Plus, I'll throw in an offer of protection, yeah? We go around together, kicking ass, following my map, I make sure all the pervs stay away from you? Sound good? Yeah?"

Right into his goddamn spiderweb. With any luck, they'd become the island's most feared couple within a day or two, taking breaks from their reign of terror only so they could make out. And then Jeremy would turn to one of the cameras, grin, and wink. And tip his fedora.
Edited by Jonny, Aug 22 2010, 07:19 PM.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
Member Avatar
You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
"Okay, and what happens when there's no pervs left?"

Well then they'd be a really hot and kickass couple who had just kicked lots of ass and been hot. Jeremy thought that part was really obvious, and he tried to think of a genteel way to phrase it but oh God she was still talking, she was still saying words from her mouth.

"I suppose that's when King Perv himself will want something in return for all that "protection" he's gonna give me, right?"

But why would it matter what King Perv wanted if the guy was dea- oh God it was him, he was King Perv all along.

"I'm guessing he'll want to see a slip of pink rather than green though, right? I mean, you'd know, being his right-hand man and all - RIGHT?."

Okay there were a lot of metaphors to navigate in that one so- wait so he wasn't King Perv after all, that was somebody different- but all the other pervs were dead in this scenario so it didn't make fucking sense. Jeremy paused, collected himself, and tried to parse out some sort of meaning- I think the implication is that I'll kill a bunch of perverts and then start jacking off- and quickly realized that this was getting awkward. And oh Christ she was already turning her attention to the other blowjob that had shown up- and he was saying weird shit to her about big mountains and he was probably talking about her tits - and Oh Jesus fuck what if he has a map too??? So in order to preserve the integrity of his spiderweb, he, uh, needed to say something, say something, just quick, just say something, just say anything, say-

"It's Jimmy Brennan!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP JIMMY BRENNAN I'M SHOUTING OVER YOU." Yes this was a good thing to say and it established him as above Jimmy Brennan in the pecking order. Jeremy imagined what kind of girl would accept a map from Jimmy Brennan, and quickly came to a conclusion: ugly sluts. Leila was a lot higher class than that. "LEILA YOU'RE A LOT HIGHER CLASS THAN THAT so ummm, no, yeah I would never do anything like that or demand anything like that because it would be totally creepy and pervy. And I don't roll like that, honest, promise, so like if King Perv shows up I'll kick his ass for you and I won't even need anything in return so don't worry!"

Okay yes this was awesome, he was totally turning this deal around despite some initial setbacks. He just needed something to clinch this shit, some kind of final offer to seal the deal on this slam dunk like-

"AND I'LL THROW IN THREE SLICES OF MY BREAD."
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
Member Avatar
You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
To review:

- Jeremy was, amongst other things, a fucking creepy rat-boy loser
- Jeremy's bread was shitty-assed (though this seemed like pure speculation)
- Leila seemed, for the most part, uninterested in a partnership

Those last two hurt, just a bit.

It wasn't like Leila had a lot of options. It wasn't like there was a whole pack of boys lining up to be her gallant and dashing protector (and besides it was impossible to be as gallant and dashing as fucking sword cane holy shit). It wasn't like there were many other people who were as patient or understanding or kindhearted as Jeremy. But she was still turning him down, and worse than that, she was still insulting the quality of his products. It was almost like she was... just a little... getting less hot.

No way who the fuck am I kidding she's still really hot.

Fortunately, Jimmy Brennan had started talking. Talking about dicks or something, it was a little hard to make out the details. The details weren't the point. The point was that when Jimmy Brennan started talking, the world got a little better. You got a little smugger. Because you could remind yourself that you are not Jimmy Brennan. So by the time that Jimmy had called Jeremy a "slutfucker" or something (which actually sounded like a pretty good arrangement, thanks Jimmy Brennan!), Jeremy had forgotten all about the grievous wound that Leila had dealt him and gotten pretty damn smug again.

Keep going, Jimmy Brennan! You think this is the smuggest I can get? Hahahahaha you dumb fucker I'm just getting warmed up. Come on, big guy, whatcha got? You gonna accuse me of getting laid a lot again?

Sadly, no. "GUN! Gun! Shit, shit, Jason got a gun!"

Well that didn't make Jeremy feel smug at all.

There was, indeed, a dude with a gun. And there was a Leila screaming about how Jeremy didn't have a dick (but Jimmy just said that I fuck sluts, how would I do that without a dick? Seriously Leila you're just not making any sense at all). And there was just a little hint of impending danger falling onto the situation, so maybe he ought to get the fuck out of Dodge right about now. But, well, shit, sometimes a gallant protector just had to do risky stuff to prove to hot chicks that he has a dick.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, slow down!" Walk towards him slowly. Keep your hands in the air, don't wave your fucking sword cane in a threatening fashion. Call him something that sounds friendly and endearing and non-confrontational. "Hey, champ, how about let's put the gun away? Or I mean, at the very least, keep it pointed at Jimmy Brennan!"

There, he was building rapport. Hating Jimmy Brennan was probably common ground with this guy, since everyone hates Jimmy Brennan.

And then another guy. Another gun. And built like a fucking tank. And not particularly smiling. Did he hate Jimmy Brennan too? Oh God please hate Jimmy Brennan please for the love of God hate Jimmy Brennan.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
Member Avatar
You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
(Fudging post order a bit because inactivity is about to come down onto Jeremy's head. Don't really want that!)

Holy shit everybody was talking and this was stupid that they'd all talk, didn't those fuckers with guns know who their leader was? They obviously needed a unified voice, someone strong and charismatic to- no, no, no, save that for later. Jeremy was getting ahead of himself. Right now he had to deal with the fact that everybody was shouting over everyone else (whose idea had it been to shout over people in the first place?), and so he had to work out a few orders of business.

First order of business was to completely ignore Jimmy Brennan, because seriously, fuck Jimmy Brennan.

Second order of business was to figure out what everyone wanted. That's what you do when you're a businessman, because until you do, you don't got shit. It's like if you show up to school with a 24-pack of Dr. Pepper, and then hahahahaha yeah, nice fucking job dumbass, nobody likes Dr. Pepper so Jeremy would be over in the next corner, all his refreshing Coca-Cola selling like thirst-quenching hot cakes, and he'd be rich and you'd be a dumbass. So it was time to figure out what the figurative Coca-Cola was in this situation, because he was all out of literal Coca-Cola.

There was Leila, right, and Leila was fucking inscrutable, Leila was a fucking sphinx (except she was hot). She didn't want a map. She didn't want protection. She said she wanted someone to give her a weapon. She didn't want bread. So what the fuck did she even want? Well, she was giving these kids with guns the time of day, and that was a step up from what she'd given Jeremy. So... to get in with Leila, he'd have to get in with the kids with guns. But what the hell did those guys want?

Oh shiiiiiiiit.

A leader! He'd just been thinking about that, and boom, there it was! That's what he could offer to the guys! Jeremy would sign on with their group, he'd be their leader, he'd call the shots and speak for them and they'd all just have a bunch of guns and start fucking shit up. Yesssssssss. So he just needed an angle, something to build rapport, something to wedge way in, so- so where did he know these dudes from? There was the one guy who'd said that he knew Jeremy (well yes everyone knows Jeremy because he is an accomplished businessman and a pillar of the community and he's holding the local economy up on his goddamn shoulders), he was... right! Brooks! Jeremy knew Brooks, he was a pretty alright guy, he was a... a gardener, right? He liked flowers and stuff?

Jeremy did not like flowers.

So there was no common ground here. Fuck. Uh... where had Jeremy seen this guy... right! Track team! Yesssssss. Jeremy was not on track team, but he made a habit to show up at their meets sometimes. He would lay odds and take bets as if the runners were racehorses, and it was always fucking hilarious. And everyone agreed with him that it was fucking hilarious and there was no dissent from this opinion. So right! Brooks was on track team, and then, well, did he recognize any of these other guys from the meets? Oh fuck yes! The other dude, the one with the yo-yo, he was totally on it too! And the other guys, well... Jeremy thought he recognized them from some meets, so they were definitely on track team too. Okay, so all four of these guys were track runners, so he had his angle. He had his sales pitch.

His sales pitch went a little like this:

"Hey, alright, sparky, you got it!" Sparky was another friendly, non-confrontational nickname, he was pretty alright at coming up with those. "Weapon's on the ground, here, look, it's just a cane! Nothing threatening, I just got a cane and all I can do with it is help old people walk!" (Oh god I'm so sorry sword-cane, I'm so sorry that I have to hurt you with my lies) "And hey, look guys, I respect what you're doing and I'm all for it and you all seem like good guys, but you all gotta get on the same page! You all gotta get your heads together, cause you're freakin' everybody out when you're all shouting at everyone and you got guns and it's not really cool, guys! So here's what I think you guys need!"

Dramatic pause.

"You need a leader so you can all have that guy speak for you and make the decisions and then nobody gets freaked out! And I think I can be that guy because- hear me out here- you're all on the track team, right, which is awesome, and I'm on the baseball team so that means I can run really fucking fast too. So that makes us all brothers, okay? We're all brothers! Except since I'm on baseball team that also means I can hit things really fucking hard, so that means I'm like a notch above you- though we're still brothers and I'm not looking down on you, not one bit- so I think it's best that leadership role goes to me!"

Yes this was a good thing to say and it established him as above the kids with guns in the pecking order. And so they would fall in line and accept him as leader.

Right into his goddamn spiderweb!
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
It was very kind of Jason, all things considered, to offer Jeremy the opportunity to stay the night with the group.

Which fucking sucked.

Because Jeremy wanted to get mad at him. Because Jeremy wanted to scream and shout and wave fucking sword cane around all threatening-like, and to call Jason an asshole and a fucker and a shithead, and to consult with Jimmy Brennan for some unique but ultimately awful insults to lob at him as well. Jeremy wanted to get pissed off. Because- and this was just part of it- Jason had turned down Jeremy's very sensible and well-intentioned offer. But Jason looked like the closest thing the group currently had to a leader, so he was just trying to hold onto his seat of power. Smart. Jeremy couldn't blame him too much, and were the circumstances slightly different he would be pelting Jason with knowing winks and high fives. But the thing that stung most was that Jason had turned around and, almost in the same breath, made his own offer to Jeremy.

I'm the one who makes the fucking offers! That's what I fucking do! It's kinda my whole deal, asshole!

To be fair, Jason wasn't the first guy on the mountain to try and muscle into Jeremy's territory. A little while ago, Jimmy Brennan had made some stupid fucking offer to that one blowjob who'd already left (and you thought Jeremy hadn't been paying attention!), so maybe Jason overheard that and assumed it was okay for just anybody to go around trying to wheel and deal. But it wasn't the same. Because when Jimmy Brennan tried to get you to agree to something, it could just be assumed that he was gonna fail spectacularly. But Jason telling Jeremy he could stay the night if he wanted? Whole different fuckin' ballgame. It was a damn good offer (though Jeremy was sure he was gonna figure out the catch any second now). It was a very generous one. It was the kind of offer that you really actually wanted to just accept.

Jeremy had no intention of accepting. Jeremy had no intention of settling. Because that's what it would be, wouldn't it? Accepting the kindness of a stranger was worlds away from forging a powerful alliance. From leading a powerful alliance. He could still do that. He could still fucking do that. He could find people, find out what they wanted, promise it to them (maybe even give it to them!), and turn them into a badass fucking fighting force. Accepting Jason's offer- even though it was a good one and Jason seemed like a nice dude and this would be a lot easier if Jeremy could just get pissed at him!- would be admitting defeat. It would make him look like a fucking pussy, like some kind of wacky trained monkey these kids were hauling around so they could laugh at its zany antics.

Like some kind of Jimmy Brennan.

Not on his list of goals. Not by a longshot. If they were really desperate for a Jimmy Brennan, there was a perfectly serviceable one over there, looking quite hot and bothered over something or other. Whatever, Jeremy couldn't be bothered to figure out how that little douchebag's mind worked. He was getting out of here anyway. But before he did, he needed to do something. While the kids were preoccupied talking about their plans of where they were gonna camp for the night, Jeremy reached into his left jacket pocket for his stack of J. Franco and Associates business cards (if you didn't know that Jeremy carried about a stack of J. Franco and Associates business cards, you didn't know shit about Jeremy Franco). Took out three of them, jotted down a little personalized message on the back of each.

"Hey, chief! Thanks for the offer and all, but I don't think I'm gonna be sticking around. Real big of you, though, y'hear? I mean it. You're good people, I like you all." Pointed at the big scowly scary Samoan-looking dude. "I like you too, you're pretty cool." Jeremy jogged over to Leila, waving around the first card so he could hand it to her. "Hey Leila, sorry I was being weird and all, just take this and I'm outta your hair and we're good." Brooks was next, so Jeremy awkwardly turned on his heel and trotted up to him. "Hey Flowerhead, you take this one, okay? And good luck with the cell tower, you guys are gonna turn that into a fuckin' fortress and I know it! Maybe I'll stop by once my food-and-water racket takes off, yeah?" He was smiling as he said it, but there was actually nothing funny about the fact that Jeremy Franco would likely control about 60% of the island's food and water supplies within the next few days.

Okay. One card left. And it's for, "Hey Jimmy Brennan! Look man, sorry about if I was a douche or whatever, that wasn't so cool on my part. I don't want any hard feelings, so how about you take this card and we maybe call it even?" Jeremy said all this, and he smiled a little sheepishly and he offered the card to Jimmy Brennan, because Jeremy was actually a pretty good guy deep down and he was all about forgiving and forgetting. So even though Jimmy Brennan had done Jeremy a great wrong, Jeremy was giving him a J. Franco and Associates business card with a personalized message. Which was kind of a big deal.

Jeremy Franco himself was also kind of a big deal. Hence why everyone was looking at him (reverently? Yes, probably reverently) as he waved goodbye, grabbed his bag and sword cane, and started making his way down the mountain. It was his first day on the island and it wasn't even dark yet. He had deals to make, he had alliances to form, he had rackets to set up.

He had an island to run.

(Jeremy Franco continued elsewhere)

(Images of the backsides of the three J. Franco and Associates business cards- with personalized messages!- will be PMed to the relevant parties. Bear with me a sec.)
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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