B51 Start

[Vasjarai†]

Bodily dozing against an unremarkable young tree cross-legged about 20 feet away from "The Quartet", as he had begun to call them, sat an entity enveloped in thought.  As usual, the thoughts of Shae Arnav were focused on the matter at hand.  However, there were some moments with the sun rising as of yet not past the horizon, when his thoughts would drift to how he had come to be in this contest of death.

For the most part it was an obvious (to him) series of events that made the most sense given the situation that he had been placed in.  There wasn't anything else he could have done, to neither avoid the situation nor to escape it, that much was certain.  Yet despite this, something about it still nagged at him, undermining his best attempts to remain focused on the important task at hand, that being survival.

Very well, they've taken a break so I might as well wade through the past days events in order to soothe my mind of its curiosity.

********************

The plane trip that was to be an extraordinary experience was cut short by the intrusion of the SOTF terrorists.  While their presence was to all a great surprise, what they did was basic protocal in any mission of this variety: remove those in power, then subjugate the rest.  The removal was a little unusual of terrorists, that mainly focusing on Mrs. Saranna's molestation.  After this sickening public ordeal, the common protocal resumed: to coat the nearest student with the teacher's brain and skull matter, giving "them" the situational anxiety and chaos that they feed upon.  The video quite adequately horrified those who had not seen Survival of the Fittest, and the final vanquishing blow to the students' morale came in the form of explaining the collars and drugging them into paralysis.

Luckily I was stationed near the rear of the plane, so I wasn't easily visible.  Doubtlessly I didn't ingest something that was most likely laced with some minorly damaging toxins, so I had decided to fake drinking the water and try my hand at acting.  I don't think I did too badly, though "they" probably didn't care as long as I didn't give them any trouble.

After some hours, we were loaded into different helicopters, then uncerimoniously dumped periodically along the island that we are now hopelessly trapped on.  When it came my turn, I didn't bother resisting (what would be the use in it anyways?), but made sure to land on my feet after being thrown.  My "SOTF pack" and my supplies for the original trip were dropped near me, and laughing the terrorists departed.

Searching through my brush green "SOTF pack" yielded basically what I would be using to survive.  The rations, compass, flashlight, and first aid kit were given a quick once-over to determine the extent of their usefulness, but it was the weapon that had particularly intrigued me.  It was a short bladed sword of some kind, with a very wide and slightly curved blade.  After a little thought I determined it to indeed be a Da Dao, a chinese fighting sword.  Hefting the sword in either hand, then both revealed the balance and ease with which I could use this weapon, a lucky find for me, especially considering I could have very well wound up with a paper clip.  Reading carefully through Mr. Danya's Guide to Survival brought little insight into the mind of Danya, but it did have some useful, if straightforward tips on survival.  Finally, the map helped me greatly in figuring out where I was and the general layout of the island, and further study indicated that it was indeed accurate and to scale, making it all the more useful.

Moving on to the bag I had brought with me, I discovered to my great delight that it hadn't been greatly tampered with, meaning that I still had my survival kit.  I certainly wouldn't have thought that it would prove so useful, but lucky for me that I know how to plan ahead for anything conceivable.  Transferring a spare set of clothes, a sleeping bag, and my survival kit to the "SOTF pack", I now had everything in one bag, though as I moved my survival kit I noted with mild disappointment that the knife, portable shovel, and multitool had been removed.  The black "B51 - Arnav" embroidered onto my pack rid me of some self-reservations: I was no longer a person, I was a number.  This disturbed me far more than the fact that I was stuck on an island with who knows how many people willing to rip me a new oriface.  However, dwelling on my number was a sure way to be far too distracted than this game requires, so I sealed it from my conscious mind to be dealt with later, when I had a better comprehension of the lay of the land.

********************

Returning to the present, Shae didn't bother to recall the simple business of finding Jackie, who was dropped near him and awoke an hour or so after he had packed up what he had designated as necessary and hidden what was not.  There was also the negligible and not worth remembering matter of hiding and following Mr. Kovacs as he gathered and assembled his pitiful little band.

The only beneficial purpose to continue with this ruse of hiding from them was that there was safety in numbers, and as they aren't in any sense of the word tactful or quiet being near them would ensure my safety.  Even if they are decimated by a far more significant force, it is unlikely that I would be noticed during the heat of battle or through the aftermath of looting and recuperation.  The only part I need to play now is remain unseen and my enemies will rid me of their ridiculous existence themselves.  They seem to have a notable spirit for life and continuing though, perhaps this is the humble beginnings of our (this islands) Rebel Alliance.

Inwardy chuckling, Shae opens his eyes to notice in light of the sun cresting the horizon that "The Quartet" was starting to pack up and move out.  It sounded like, from what he could garner from their conversation, they were heading to the residential district.  A lack of sleep had not dulled his resolve, and as the birds began to rise to greet the morning graciously with their saccherine chorale, Shae rose from his sitting position, shouldered his pack and skulked after them.

((Continued in You Can Feel What You Don't See...))