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Rare Footage of Jerry Worried; B019 start
Topic Started: Aug 13 2016, 08:22 PM (542 Views)
MK Kilmarnock
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((B019 - Jerry Fury, start))

Jerry stood at the tower's base and gazed skyward. At least, he did the best he could in this endeavor. The collar around his neck caused him some great discomfort when he tilted his head too far back, what with the band of metal digging into the back of his head. He swore it was pulling on some of his neck hair too. He guessed those fuckin' bastards didn't care much if they pinched your neck hair when fitting you with a fancy new accessory.

Not too long after waking up, Jerry had investigated his surroundings and the new hardware strapped to his throat not unlike a hamster scrutinizing its new cage. That terrorist jerk briefly talked about the collar like it was the latest iPhone, prattling on about how it'll go kaboom if one of a million different things happened. It was a lot of fancy talk, but anybody could have seen around it; the collars were obviously way too thin to contain any sort of real potent explosive. It was just a tracking device and nothing more. Jerry knew he was too smart for that. If the game worked the way they said it did, then all he had to do was disregard their warnings, rip the thing off and then he could go through the island free of scrutiny and from those 'danger zones' or whatever they were called.

He put a hand on his collar, then tugged as hard as he could.



---



Granted, that was a while ago. All Jerry had to show for his efforts was a sore neck and the solace of knowing that nobody saw him hurting himself like a complete idiot. Yep. Nobody saw, other than the cameras all around that the terrorists said they had. That part, Jerry knew they weren't bluffing on. Kids knew about Survival of the Fittest. That is, kids knew if they weren't living under a damn rock. He heard about people, total dickwads and douchebags, who would prank their friends with a video of that girl who was eating another girl or like, some dude getting ripped apart with a chainsaw.

Jerry felt sick to his stomach knowing that one of those kids in those videos could soon be him. Even if he took the easy way out... all he had to do was climb the radio tower, give a quick look around, utter a 'hi guys, bye guys' and leap off... he wouldn't even feel it if he landed on his head, right? Even if he did all that, his suicide would still be captured by those damn cameras. He couldn't even see half of them, but one of them was visibly attached to the tower, focusing down at him. Jerry reached deep down inside himself to try and pull out the best hate-filled speech he could towards the terrorists. Something that would really burn them, some absolutely scathing remarks that would REALLY make them feel sorry for doing this to all of them.

"You..." he managed to say.

Good job, man! You really got them with that one! He internally chastised. Oh well. It was worth a shot.

Giving a grumble that lead into a nice and drawn out sigh, Jerry hit his knees and fumbled through his bag, looking for something useful.
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MK Kilmarnock
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"Okay," Jerry mumbled. He hoped his mumbling wasn't loud enough for the cameras to pick up. This was a private conversation, damn it.

"Simple plan. Find your weapon, ninja the fuck around, kill everybody... shouldn't be too hard, right? Yeah, just... uh... kill everybody. You get one under your belt, that's the hard part. Just like Solid Snake said. First one's the hardest." He was about ninety percent sure that was a Solid Snake quote. The missing ten percent was on account of the Metal Gear Solid games being too boring without infinite ammo. What was the point in a game about killing everybody you saw if you run out of ammo after like, a solid five seconds of shooting at the same two guys wearing camo?

"And then once you get the one, you got no particular qualms 'bout killing again." Jerry's self-assurance rung hollow. That was alright; all he needed was a little boost of confidence, something as a little pick me up. Something like...

His hands closed around something long and hard. Aaaaaaah... perfect. Now, he just needed to be the one sneaking up on people, and NOT be the guy that people snuck up on.

Rattle rattle...

FUCK! Somebody snuck up on him! Jerry craned his neck around faster than that first fucking zombie in Resident Evil to try and spy who was there... and saw Ben Fields, his ol' compadre, his battle partner, his ace in the hole. Maybe that was going too far... but Ben was a solid infielder and, as a first baseman himself, Jerry felt some sort of obligation between himself and Ben. First and third, third and first. Jerry and Ben, Ben and...

Ben and Jerry? Sunuva bitch... he JUST got that.

"Sweet! Peppers!" It was the best thing Jerry could figure out how to say. "They look kinda old but uh... well, I think it's the other way around. Check it out, dude!" Jerry pulled his hand out of his back and pushed off his knees, now in a low squatting position with the handle of a knife in his hands. He pushed on the ol' switch and... whoops. He had his fingers on the wrong side and could feel the back of the blade pushing in. He turned in, biting his lip anxiously... then when he was sure he was set, he pushed the button again to flick the edge of the switchblade out for Ben, and the millions and MILLIONS of fans watching at home, to see.

"Yeeeeeeeeah! Jerry's packin'! Fear me!" The boy pushed to his feet and waved the knife in a faux-threatening manner before lowering his arm. Yeah, this was as normal a situation as ever... just chatting it up while the prospect of one of them being dead very soon, maybe a day later or a week later hung over their heads.
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Jerry waved the knife this way and that, fighting off a ninja attack from the great clan of Imagination dojo.

"So I take it that means you like it," Jerry said. The statement was directed to Ben, of course, but it would be just as easy to assume that it was towards the switchblade in his hands from the covetous way that he held it. Jerry mocked a combat stance towards Ben, raising one hand like a fencer. "So what if some kids 'round here got guns? Fucking noisy things, and I bet everybody's gonna burn through their ammo right away just figuring out how to load them." Jerry wasn't exactly giving Ben his full attention, still playing with his new toy. "This little guy right here, it's forever. Silent, too. Sneakin' round like 'Nam, slitting throats while they sleep." Jerry folded back the blade, tucking it away.

It wasn't until Jerry put the blade in his pocket that the gravity of Ben's last statement finally dawned on him. The boy raised an eyebrow, cocking his head with a smirk but his eyes told a different story.

"Why you being so dramatic about it, dude?" Jerry asked. "Like, you heard the guy. We kill or we die."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He talked a big game, but Jerry wasn't sure he could be able to walk that baseline, actually using the knife in his pocket to take a life. The weight of the switchblade seemed to tug on his pocket more and more until he swore that his shorts were going to come undone and slide around his ankles. Y'know, just in case the day couldn't get any worse. Wouldn't that be a grand way to go out, he thought to himself, with his shorts down around his ankles while struggling to run. If you do indeed shit yourself when you die, he would make that particular stereotype just a little more visible.

"Do you wanna die, Ben? Or do you wanna be cool like me? Y'know, running around, killing people... come on, all the cool kids are doing it!" Jerry forced a laugh as he said it, arms spread wide.
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Jerry turned a hard shoulder. His bravado had disappeared, but not in favor of a jelly spine.

"Man, how the hell do you even KNOW about that?" Jerry spat. "What, was Trav running his mouth? It was just a spar, not a real fight!" Jerry's brain was already lining up the next few things to say, the next few excuses he had for what transpired that day. "So we were just playing, trying things out. Trav surprised me with a lucky kick, so what's the big deal?"

Jerry was yelling now, without even realizing it. He paced back and forth like a lion in a cage and his hand slid back into his pocket. It was mostly as a comfort thing, to wrap his knuckles around the folded switchblade and feel safe. In truth, Jerry Fury was scared. The unknown and the uncertain scared him, as did having his ubiquitous confidence shaken. When he got scared, he got angry, because how DARE anything scare him!?

"And the fuck you going on about? Flesh this, flesh that! Fucking creepy, dude!" Jerry started walking towards Ben. "So what's your big idea?" There was a light crunching sound, and Jerry looked to see what his foot had happened upon. Lifting it and shifting it to the side slightly revealed the bag of chipotles, some of which were now quite damaged thanks to his carelessness. "Ugh... Whatever," Jerry grumbled, kicking the peppers to the side. "Fuck those things. You weren't going to eat them, right? You're just gonna hide in a hole somewhere like a bitch and leave ME to do all the dirty work!"
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Jerry's jaw worked as he stared at Ben, obviously thinking about what to say next.

Shit. That was actually a pretty good question, wasn't it?

"... I don't know." Jerry pulled his right foot back and brought his shoulder with it, standing almost completely perpendicular to Ben now. His hand removed itself from his pocket and the heated palm of his hand thumped against his forehead, a few beads of sweat in-between pressed and flattened until they leaked out the side of his hand.

"Shit... what was I even saying?" Jerry asked himself. "Just kinda... slipped out, y'know? For a moment there, I was just rearing and ready to go, all hot-shit to be the number one player of the game. Dirtiest player of the game, Ric Flair. You ever watch-... who am I kidding, you don't."

Jerry drew his hand over the top of his head. "Maaaaaaaaaan, I feel like an idiot. Let's just forget that happened, huh? Nobody saw it."
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"Keep people alive?" Jerry had both eyebrows raised. His expression was an incredulous one but, be that as it may, Ben had captured his attention. He had captured the attention of Jerry Fury in full-force, for better or worse.

"So, you an' I, we go around like, keeping the peace and taking weapons and basically just being huge assholes? Because I can be that asshole. I can be a huge, gaping asshole. I can be fuckin' Goatse!" Jerry pumped his fist with his trademark bravado. Once the moment had passed and he realized that he had committed to telling that godawful joke, Jerry backpedaled from the unshakable sensation he'd just said something pretty goddamn gay.

"Uh. Anyway." Jerry wiped his hands on the front of his jeans, sweat and streaks of grease from his hair still sticking to his fingertips where they ran through the curly few-inch forest earlier. "Gives me somethin' to do, and we can put on a good show for the sick fucks without becoming criminals ourselves. Sounds pretty win-win."

Ignore impending death.

Ignore inevitability of the game's closing.

Ignore the bomb strapped to your neck.

Ignore it! You're thinking about it!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
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"Island Pacifism brigade gooooo!" Jerry cheered. "If you're violent, we will come and BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU! Quite frankly, I'm in love with the concept. Good plan. Glad I came up with it."

Jerry strolled past Ben... then abruptly turned and jogged back to his pack, scooping it up. "Whoospies, almost forgot this!" Jerry mumbled, still at a volume that Ben and the cameras could easily hear, whether he intended for that or not. "Can't... uh, starve to death. That's kind of the pussy way out. It's like, how every one of my games of Oregon Trail ended and, damn it, it's not how this is ending too!" Seriously, stupid game. And what the hell was dysentery? Obviously a made-up disease just to fuck over the kids playing it. Maybe they forgot to program an ending to the game, and so they made it impossible to win.

"Bradley's fine, he's totally a chill guy," Jerry said with 100% certainty in his voice. "Definitely watch out for Caitlyn, though. Her and Darse. Dar-ay-us. Fuck that guy, got a stick up his ass with barbs on both ends."

Jerry raises a single finger, then pointed in a random direction.

"Let's-a-go."

((Jerry Fury, continued in Aaaaaand he's gone.))
Edited by MK Kilmarnock, Aug 26 2016, 03:32 AM.
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