It was hard to get up but Oliver managed it. His anger was enough to push him past his own pain. Stumbling on his feet and clutching his wounded stomach, he began to walk. Slowly but surely. He was lost in the jungle with not a clue of his where scouts or how close he was to Jason but he had to find help. He had to find away to get back at the bastard for killing their friends. The sky was getting light as the sun began to rise, morning was breaking and Oliver knew he'd be spotted soon if he were to be still ambling about in the broad daylight. The last thing he wanted was to be shot down before he even got a chance to hurt Jason in anyway.

An hour passed of Oliver wondering aimlessly throughout the trees until he stumbled across a huge fire. The stench was horrible. He'd never smelt smoke like it before, he couldn't place his finger on just what was burning until he looked into the flames. Numerous body parts were cascaded all in the fire. Oliver felt sick as he realised that the stench was burning flesh.

"Oh my fucking god." He exclaimed quietly to himself. He stood staring for several moments, not really sure what to do until he heard voices near by. He dragged himself to the source slowly to find a large group of men, roughly around 40 of them, all in red shirts. Oliver was consumed with worry and he remembered what had happened to him when he was last kidnapped by these fiends however he wasn't scared. Taking a deep breath he confidently strolled as best as he could considering his injury, into the group of men. At the sight of him, many raised their guns at him nervously.

"Put your fucking guns down, I'm injured, unarmed and out numbered." Oliver stated stroppily. Surprisingly enough, the men complied easily. Oliver cocked an eyebrow at this. "I have a proposition for you guys. I need your help."

"Why the fuck should we help white scum like you. Your friend killed all our men." One Hispanic man said rudely.

"My 'friend' also stabbed me. Are we going to list all of the shit Brody's done here? I think you'll really like my proposal." Oliver offered again. No one replied so Oliver took it as a signal to keep going. "Everyone here has one thing in common right? We all want Jason Brody Dead. With your help, I can make that happen."

A different voice shouted at the stoner "How?"

"I need a plan but we can do it. You guys need a new leader and I need men to help me so please, tell me if you're interested."

An eerie silence surrounded Oliver as the pirates each considered the offer. Tiny beads of sweat trickled down Oliver's forehead as his nerves consumed him, the pirates could shoot him down at any second. It wasn't long till one man spoke up.

"I'll help you." Oliver scanned the crowd looking for his new ally.

"What's your name?" He asked with feigned confidence.

"Carlos." The name rang a slight familiarity in Oliver's brain but he pushed it aside.

"Thank you." He muttered. "Anyone else?" He said a little louder. Slowly one by one pirates raised their hands. Eventually every man stood before him had his hand raised and Oliver smirked.

"Well, what are we all stood here for? We've got a war to plan." As the words left his mouth the pirates started shouting in agreement and a sense of power flowed throughout the blonde. He was their new leader and he'd lead them well, getting them exactly what they wanted. Revenge. Just as quickly as the situation became good, it quickly plummeted to bad as Oliver collapsed. He let out a small pained yell as he clutched his stab wound, blood flowing onto his hand. Numerous men crowded around him and he felt their hands lifting him up quickly. Oliver watched the trees fret past as he was carried, his vision began to get blurry before he passed out completely.

The light was harsh on his eyes as he slowly opened them. It took a moment to adjust before he took in his surroundings. He was in a large tent lit up with many fire lanterns. He was laid on what seemed to be a flimsy camping bed. He tried to get up before two hands pushed his shoulders back down onto the bed.

"You're injured. You need to rest." Oliver's head whipped round to see Carlos sat by his cot. Oliver looked down to his stab wound noticing the white bandage wrapped around his midriff.

"W-what happened?" Oliver stuttered.

"You passed out and we carried you to our campsite."

"Oh." Was all Ollie could say as he recalled his actions before he passed out. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"3 days." Carlos replied as he stood up to grab Oliver a glass of water. Oliver slowly shifted himself into more of a sitting position before taking the water from the pirate.

"3 days? Fuck man, anything happen when I was out?"

"Not much. We gathered more men from the mainland and the islands surrounding this one. We also got a couple privateers to join us." Oliver was gobsmacked. More men?

"What are our numbers?" Oliver asked quietly.

"100." Oliver choked on his drink as he heard the number.

"100? Holy shit man! I can't lead that many! I don't even know how to lead anyone." Ollie exclaimed. "I've gotten myself into something much bigger than me haven't I?" Carlos simply nodded.

"That's where i come in. I was Vaas' second in command." He stated plainly.

"His second in command? What? But you're so...so...nice?" Carlos laughed at the statement.

"We're not the total assholes you think we are. Just guys doing our job."

"You guys still kidnapped and tortured my friends. Some job."

Oliver was left to rest for a further two more days before he insisted on leaving his bed. Oliver stumbled out of his tent mid afternoon with a cigarette hanging from his lips. He took a long drag before he beckoned over one of his pirates.

"Where can I get some different clothes?" He asked. The pirate pointed to another tent before walking away. Oliver rolled his eyes at the bluntness but didn't comment. He strolled over to the tent which inside seemed to be full of supplies. Boxes upon boxes stood up to the roof of the tent.

"Sir?" One pirate asked.

"Don't call me sir. It's just Oliver." The blonde corrected.

"Okay then, Oliver, what do you need?"

"Clothes. I need clothes." He stated as he motioned to his bare torso. The pirate pointed to box on the floor, thankfully with nothing on top and easily accessible.

"Just take what you need. It's all taken off the poor fuckers your friend killed."

"He's not my friend!" Oliver growled angrily as he glared at the Jamaican man.

"Okay, okay! Not friends. Got it." He quickly said in a defensive tone. Oliver just ignored him as he grabbed some clothes. He left the tent quickly and headed back to the tent where he recovered.

Oliver began to undress as he looked over his body, spotting the small tattoo on his hip bone. It was the Thai flag with the transcript "Lads on Tour 2012". Oliver laughed sourly as he recalled Jason convincing him to get such a hideous tattoo. Not wanting to look at it much longer, Oliver grabbed his red tank top and slid it onto his slender frame. He dressed himself in a pair of camo cargo trousers, combat boots and finished his look off with a red bandana tied round his forehead to makeup for lack of hat. He looked over to the small mirror in the tent, overlooking his new appearance. He'd changed completely. He wasn't himself anymore, he'd become someone else entirely.

"I need to do this for Riley." He reassured himself. The blonde sighed angrily as he stared at his reflection. Despite his new clothing he still looked lanky and weak, not intimidating at all. He stalked out of his tent angrily, ignoring every 'Sir' and 'hello' as he walked past his men. He searched the small campsite for Carlos and found him gambling.

"Yo Carlos, talk. Now." He ordered, trying to sound assertive in front of the other men. Carlos set his cards down before strolling over to Oliver.

"Yes sir." Oliver tutted at the use of the word sir but ignored it.

"Are there any tattoo parlours on the island?" Oliver asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I want a tat." Oliver lowered his voice. "I look too much of a weakling." Carlos laughed quietly.

"Okay, let me finish my game and I'll take you okay?" He offered. Oliver nodded and walked off, wanting to explore the camp more deeply.

Carlos was finished quicker than Oliver anticipated. The two men took a land rover to a town half an hour away. Oliver gripped his gun tightly as Carlos lead him through the town. Many of the inhabitants ran inside as they walked past, others shouted taunts at them, saying about how their 'warrior' saved them from the evil we sprung upon them. Oliver tried to ignore the mentions of Jason and tried not to let his anger get the better of them. Carlos took the stoner into a seedy little shack, inside was much cleaner than Oliver first thought. A young local man sat inside, his smile dropped as he spotted his new customers.

"H-h-how can I help you?" He stuttered out of fear.

"Tattoo for this fucker here. We're here in peace okay?" Carlos stated. The tattooist swallowed hard before motioning to the tattoo chair. Oliver sat in it hesitantly.

"I want a sleeve."

"What of, sir?" The boy asked, overly polite.

"I have no idea. Something that'll make me look more tough y'know?" Oliver admitted. The stoners calm aura must've been putting the tattooist at ease as he seemed to relax considerably. The tattoo took a couple of hours but Oliver was pleased with the end result. He'd been given one of those tribal tattoos that looked like one of the tattoos you'd find on every douche at the gym.

"Thanks man. How much?" Oliver asked. The tattooist shook his head.

"It's on the house." He insisted, clearly still lightly scared of Oliver and Carlos. The blonde shifted off the chair, careful of his still healing stab wound.

"Awesome. I might be back sometime. Who knows?" Oliver said as he walked out of the shack with Carlos.

"You know it's gonna take much more than a stupid tattoo to make the men fear you." Carlos questioned. Oliver laughed.

"I don't want them to fear me? That's what Vaas did wrong. I want them to trust me and support me. I want them to want to die for me. I need them to be desperate to win. What's the point of soulless soldiers? They need to have that passion to want to kill those who cross me. Wars aren't just about hatred. They need passion too otherwise they could never be won." Carlos chuckled at Oliver's small speech.

"Now that's what a real leader would say." Oliver couldn't help but smirk. Something in his gut just told him that this would work out. That he would get his way.