Welcome to the Outside World
Posted: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:18 pm
((O22 Fabiano Vecoli: Start))
As far as he knew it, Fabiano had never left Malta in his entire life.
This was not the result of a lack in opportunities. There had been quite some times he could have accompanied his mother on a trip to get some photos from the neighboring countries. But he had preferred to stay home. Malta had given him a lot he had needed in his life, and what he knew about the outside, non-Malta world didn't motivate him to go sightseeing in another country.
Maybe that was the reason why his first thought after awakening was "This is not Malta."
There was no specific reason to think this; the old room he awoke in could be in any ruin anywhere in the world. But the place full of cobwebs and dusty furniture gave off a feeling of strangeness that made Fabiano's skin crawl. Or maybe it was the dust on the bed he lay on making him almost cough.
However, all of this was momentarily reduced to the second row of his mind when the memories of the "briefing" came flooding into his still foggy mind.
He remembered the dark room with the other teenagers.
The guy who got shot for saying the stuff Fabiano would have said a few seconds later.
The man named Jack.
The talk about daypacks and random weapons.
The collars and how the mannequin blew up. Almost automatically, his hand raised to his neck and found some cold steel. He didn't dare to try and pull on it.
And lastly, the thing these people wanted him and the others to do.
Killing each other.
"Fucking outsiders!" He almost spat out while punching the bedsheets in frustration. He was sure that none of his Maltese people would ever come up with something so sick and then have the audacity to go trough with it. It had to be the work of some Americans. Or Germans. Or Brits. Whatever, for Fabiano, outsiders where outsiders, no matter how they called their countries.
It was then that he spotted a backpack sitting at the foot end of the bed. It had "O22" written over it and sticked out in the room for not looking twenty years old.
Hesitantly, Fabiano stood up and made his way to inspect what appeared to be his daypack. The first thing that rolled out of it once he zipped it open was one of six cylinders of the colors red, green, yellow, blue, black and white. They were marked as "AX-60".
Fabiano recognized these as a common type of smoke bomb. His mother sometimes used them to make artistic photos. He also knew they were sometimes used for movies. His knowledge was sparse, but he knew they weren't lethal unless you used them in a small room, where the smoke would push out all the air, resulting in everyone not fast enough to leave the room suffocating.
Why was he thinking about such stuff?
Fabiano shook his head. The talks about killing each other and only one person being allowed to survive - and find out what the other died for in the first place - must have getting him more shaken up than he wanted to admit. He put the six smoke bombs on the bed and focussed on the rest of the daypack.
Some food.
A flashlight. He turned it on for a second to see if it worked, which it did.
A compass.
A map of an island. Presumably the island he was on. There was even a place named "The Empty Farmhouse", which might be his current position. He put the map into the pocket of his T-Shirt.
And lastly a first-aid-kit. His knowledge about medicine was confined to treat the small bruises and scrapes he sometimes got while climbing, but that was it. However, the most interesting component of the kit was a small lighter. He would need this one to set off the smoke bombs, so he took it out and stuffed it into the backpocket of his jeans before putting the rest of his possessions back into the backpack. Then he put the backpack on his back, ready to roll out and-
That was the moment Fabiano realized he had no clue what to do now.
Obviously, he had no desire to just go and kill other people like it was nothing. But the man had been clear: if no one died for one day, they would all be history. That was one of the last things he had said before talking about announcements and then saying something about countries.
Something about countries?
A disturbing realization hit Fabiano.
The other abducted teenagers weren't from Malta! They were outsiders, just like the abducters!
In his eyes, this made the situation a lot more dangerous. If it were all Maltese like him, he was sure they could have banded together. Found a way to survive this horrible situation. Or at least spit Jack in his face.
But outsiders were unpredictable. The fact that outsiders had been the ones to initiate this whole situation showed just how disturbing outsiders could be. There was no doubt a good number of the captured would happily start the slaughter.
With that, his next moves were clear. He needed a weapon. The smoke bombs would be good for a clean getaway, but for all he knew others could have gotten rocket launchers. The room he was in had nothing usefull. The furniture was made out of decade-old wood that would probably break even before the first hit. He needed to find something better, and he needed to find it fast. Judging from the number on his backpack, there were at least twenty-one other people on the island. For Fabiano's taste, that were twenty-one too many.
Snapping back to reality, he decided to take a look out of the only window in the room. This led to two new revelations:
1) His room was on the second floor.
2) To the right there was some sort of cave-entrance, barely visible on the horizon. To the left there was a long fence as far as he could see. In order to reach any of these two places, Fabiano would have to cross a wide open field, where he would be easily picked of by any outsider with a sniper rifle.
Yeah, hard pass on that direction.
He took out the map again. In the direction he couldn't see right now was a small forest. Further north was a place called "The Temperate Rainforest". And to the northern end of the island was another place named "The Mysterious Circle" practically begging to be checked out. It even had "mysterious" in the name to show that it was important.
Pretty sure some others would instantly want to see what so special about this place was. So hard pass as well, since Fabiano had no desire to run into people right now.
That left only the east: A long beach, without any cover, just like the open field.
Crap. Every choice was a bad one.
And to top it all of, he felt no desire to stay in this ruin that could fall on his head every second. Also he wouldn't find a weapon by not looking at different places.
With a sigh, he put the map back into his pocket. "Let's just get out of this place, I guess." He spoke to himself. Hearing his own voice gave him a slightly soothing feeling of familiarity.
And then he was on his way to find the stairs.
As far as he knew it, Fabiano had never left Malta in his entire life.
This was not the result of a lack in opportunities. There had been quite some times he could have accompanied his mother on a trip to get some photos from the neighboring countries. But he had preferred to stay home. Malta had given him a lot he had needed in his life, and what he knew about the outside, non-Malta world didn't motivate him to go sightseeing in another country.
Maybe that was the reason why his first thought after awakening was "This is not Malta."
There was no specific reason to think this; the old room he awoke in could be in any ruin anywhere in the world. But the place full of cobwebs and dusty furniture gave off a feeling of strangeness that made Fabiano's skin crawl. Or maybe it was the dust on the bed he lay on making him almost cough.
However, all of this was momentarily reduced to the second row of his mind when the memories of the "briefing" came flooding into his still foggy mind.
He remembered the dark room with the other teenagers.
The guy who got shot for saying the stuff Fabiano would have said a few seconds later.
The man named Jack.
The talk about daypacks and random weapons.
The collars and how the mannequin blew up. Almost automatically, his hand raised to his neck and found some cold steel. He didn't dare to try and pull on it.
And lastly, the thing these people wanted him and the others to do.
Killing each other.
"Fucking outsiders!" He almost spat out while punching the bedsheets in frustration. He was sure that none of his Maltese people would ever come up with something so sick and then have the audacity to go trough with it. It had to be the work of some Americans. Or Germans. Or Brits. Whatever, for Fabiano, outsiders where outsiders, no matter how they called their countries.
It was then that he spotted a backpack sitting at the foot end of the bed. It had "O22" written over it and sticked out in the room for not looking twenty years old.
Hesitantly, Fabiano stood up and made his way to inspect what appeared to be his daypack. The first thing that rolled out of it once he zipped it open was one of six cylinders of the colors red, green, yellow, blue, black and white. They were marked as "AX-60".
Fabiano recognized these as a common type of smoke bomb. His mother sometimes used them to make artistic photos. He also knew they were sometimes used for movies. His knowledge was sparse, but he knew they weren't lethal unless you used them in a small room, where the smoke would push out all the air, resulting in everyone not fast enough to leave the room suffocating.
Why was he thinking about such stuff?
Fabiano shook his head. The talks about killing each other and only one person being allowed to survive - and find out what the other died for in the first place - must have getting him more shaken up than he wanted to admit. He put the six smoke bombs on the bed and focussed on the rest of the daypack.
Some food.
A flashlight. He turned it on for a second to see if it worked, which it did.
A compass.
A map of an island. Presumably the island he was on. There was even a place named "The Empty Farmhouse", which might be his current position. He put the map into the pocket of his T-Shirt.
And lastly a first-aid-kit. His knowledge about medicine was confined to treat the small bruises and scrapes he sometimes got while climbing, but that was it. However, the most interesting component of the kit was a small lighter. He would need this one to set off the smoke bombs, so he took it out and stuffed it into the backpocket of his jeans before putting the rest of his possessions back into the backpack. Then he put the backpack on his back, ready to roll out and-
That was the moment Fabiano realized he had no clue what to do now.
Obviously, he had no desire to just go and kill other people like it was nothing. But the man had been clear: if no one died for one day, they would all be history. That was one of the last things he had said before talking about announcements and then saying something about countries.
Something about countries?
A disturbing realization hit Fabiano.
The other abducted teenagers weren't from Malta! They were outsiders, just like the abducters!
In his eyes, this made the situation a lot more dangerous. If it were all Maltese like him, he was sure they could have banded together. Found a way to survive this horrible situation. Or at least spit Jack in his face.
But outsiders were unpredictable. The fact that outsiders had been the ones to initiate this whole situation showed just how disturbing outsiders could be. There was no doubt a good number of the captured would happily start the slaughter.
With that, his next moves were clear. He needed a weapon. The smoke bombs would be good for a clean getaway, but for all he knew others could have gotten rocket launchers. The room he was in had nothing usefull. The furniture was made out of decade-old wood that would probably break even before the first hit. He needed to find something better, and he needed to find it fast. Judging from the number on his backpack, there were at least twenty-one other people on the island. For Fabiano's taste, that were twenty-one too many.
Snapping back to reality, he decided to take a look out of the only window in the room. This led to two new revelations:
1) His room was on the second floor.
2) To the right there was some sort of cave-entrance, barely visible on the horizon. To the left there was a long fence as far as he could see. In order to reach any of these two places, Fabiano would have to cross a wide open field, where he would be easily picked of by any outsider with a sniper rifle.
Yeah, hard pass on that direction.
He took out the map again. In the direction he couldn't see right now was a small forest. Further north was a place called "The Temperate Rainforest". And to the northern end of the island was another place named "The Mysterious Circle" practically begging to be checked out. It even had "mysterious" in the name to show that it was important.
Pretty sure some others would instantly want to see what so special about this place was. So hard pass as well, since Fabiano had no desire to run into people right now.
That left only the east: A long beach, without any cover, just like the open field.
Crap. Every choice was a bad one.
And to top it all of, he felt no desire to stay in this ruin that could fall on his head every second. Also he wouldn't find a weapon by not looking at different places.
With a sigh, he put the map back into his pocket. "Let's just get out of this place, I guess." He spoke to himself. Hearing his own voice gave him a slightly soothing feeling of familiarity.
And then he was on his way to find the stairs.