I Wanna Be The Guy!

[Solitair†]

"Travis... Travis..." echoed a female voice in a thick Ukrainian accent.

Quincy Archer groaned and flipped over in his sleep. "Ugh... for Christ's sake, Mum, it's five in the morning! Let your son get some fucking sleep once in a while!"

"Wake up, Travis! You will be late for your next match!"

Suddenly, Quincy recognized the voice and bolted up in his bed. He looked around, but everything around him was pitch black except for the bed and a woman sitting on the end. She had blonde hair, tied into two small pigtails at the side of her head while the rest spilled over the sides of her face; she wore a black miniskirt and jacket, the latter of which covered a white petticoat with frilly sleeves and a black slip that left the top of her bosom exposed. Quincy blinked and stared at her. "You?" he asked.

"Good morning, Travis," she replied. "I trust you're feeling well? Used the restroom? Washed your face? Trimmed your facial hair?"

"Look," Quincy protested. "My name's Quincy. Quincy Archer. You've got the wrong-"

"Next up is a survival match," the woman continued, as if Quincy hadn't spoken. "Win and you'll be ranked 1st. Lose and you go to hell. I'm afraid you'll be facing a large amount of enemies with a rather severe handicap, so keep your head down and your wits about you."

As the woman spoke, she lifted from beside the bed a fluorescent light fixture, like the ones found in the ceilings of office buildings. This one, however, hummed rather ominously and glowed with a blue light. "I am 9,999,999,999% certain that you are going to die," she told Quincy as she gripped a handle at one end of the fixture with both hands.

He sighed and sat up in bed. "Oh, I can see where this is going," he commented sarcastically.

She nodded and smiled at Quincy, lifting the fixture behind her like a baseball batter. "Trust your Force, and head for the Garden of Madness." She swung with all her might-

~~~~~~~~~~

-and Danya's third announcement, read by an unfortunate toady of his, blared across the island, snapping Quincy out of his trance and causing him to fall off of his rock and land on the ground, next to his day pack. He quickly sat up and took note of the announcement's contents, especially the names of those who had killed: Dodd, Mikan, Harris, Jacks, Butler, and Tsai.

After the announcement ended, Quincy stood up and dusted himself off. "I hate it when a story begins in media res," he muttered, "and I was so hoping to hear our host's uniquely grating voice this morning, too." He opened his daypack and sorted through it to find the typical array of useful SOTF tools, plus a pair of boxing gloves. Bantamweight I am not, he thought disdainfully upon seeing them.

Noticing a camera peering at him from the rock wall, Quincy stared at it with a deadpan look on his face. "I have noticed on previous iterations of this program to skew the odds and assign useless weapons to its contestants in an attempt to provoke despair. Evidently I have been assigned by this system the position of designated redshirt."

He took his map and compass out of his day pack and picked a safe zone at random. "But soft, let us move on and see if Dame Fortune will smile upon my next endeavor. He slung his pack over his shoulder and left the quarry behind.

((Quincy Archer continued in Sadist))