And So It Begins…

This is insane.

This is absolutely fucking insane.

Honest wasn’t particularly one for swearing but, right about now, he felt that the occasion most definitely called for it.

Just how in the hell did he end up in this mess?

All he remembered was something crashing through the window of his restaurant, this odd smoke and then passing out in his kitchen. Next thing he knew he woke up in a classroom to two obscured women telling him that he was involved in a fight to the death. A televised fight to the death. Where in, if he refused to participate, this stupid, cold, god-forsaken collar around his neck would blow his head off.

This is insane. Absolutely fucking insane.

Honest sighed, taking the map out from his sports bag and checking it again, holding his compass in the other hand. If he was correct, which he highly suspected (he had an impeccable sense of direction), then he should be in D-04 by now. Good, the farm shouldn’t be too far now.

Honest bit his lip as his stomach flipped around. What was he going to do? What could he do? He couldn’t kill someone! He’d never dream of doing such a thing! But he didn’t want to die, either…

He groaned, his head started to hurt as he went over the issue again and again. Kill or be killed. Kill or be killed. Kill or…

The knitting needles clinked in his bag as he walked, only weighing heavier on his thoughts. Fine. You know what? Fine. He decided. He’d deal with this whole…”fight to the death” thing when he needed to. If he needed to…well, he’d defend himself. He wouldn’t deny that. But as for killing…he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

Hopefully he’d figure out some way of getting this god awful collar off of himself before then.

And so it begins…

And so it begins…

Honest Onceler Player Pack

~bottled waters
~field rations
~compass
~map
~random weapon: Long knitting needles


To say Honest had been surprised when there was suddenly a loud pop and a burst of what he thought was smoke inside his restaurant, was a serious understatement. Honest was a laid back kind of guy, that much was true. But something flying through your window and kicking up smoke was enough to make anyone panicked.
He was at least thankful there were neither any customers or Ted and Audrey in the building when…whatever that thing was, came flying in. He was just closing up when this whole thing started!
Honest started coughing and covered his mouth and nose with his scarf. He made his way to the back exit, cutting through the kitchen, opening as many windows as he could find. His progress, however, was becoming seemingly more and more impossible. His eye lids were heavy and his head was getting light. His couldn’t will his limbs the way he wanted them to, and despite his mind screaming at him to run, to move, to get out somehow, he still found himself sliding down onto the cool metal tile of the kitchen.
His vision was getting spotty and despite his best, final efforts, his eyes closed. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 
He didn’t know what would be there when he woke up. Was he being kidnapped? Was he being robbed? Was something going to be there when he woke up that would kill him, make him one more vanished person who’s crime never went unsolved like a lot of those victims he saw on those late night crime shows he watched? Or would he wake up, still in his kitchen, fine and dandy?
Both alive and dead.
At least until he woke up.

To say Honest had been surprised when there was suddenly a loud pop and a burst of what he thought was smoke inside his restaurant, was a serious understatement. Honest was a laid back kind of guy, that much was true. But something flying through your window and kicking up smoke was enough to make anyone panicked.

He was at least thankful there were neither any customers or Ted and Audrey in the building when…whatever that thing was, came flying in. He was just closing up when this whole thing started!

Honest started coughing and covered his mouth and nose with his scarf. He made his way to the back exit, cutting through the kitchen, opening as many windows as he could find. His progress, however, was becoming seemingly more and more impossible. His eye lids were heavy and his head was getting light. His couldn’t will his limbs the way he wanted them to, and despite his mind screaming at him to run, to move, to get out somehow, he still found himself sliding down onto the cool metal tile of the kitchen.

His vision was getting spotty and despite his best, final efforts, his eyes closed. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

He didn’t know what would be there when he woke up. Was he being kidnapped? Was he being robbed? Was something going to be there when he woke up that would kill him, make him one more vanished person who’s crime never went unsolved like a lot of those victims he saw on those late night crime shows he watched? Or would he wake up, still in his kitchen, fine and dandy?

Both alive and dead.

At least until he woke up.

Eyes an’ ears open.

Eyes an’ ears open.