Chapter 2: My name is...
My nap was disrupted when I became conscious of the fact that my right arm was feeling particularly submerged. Instantly on alert, I rolled away from the feeling a bit too fast, slamming my side to the damn mast.
"Gh- shit!" I spit out a curse, rubbing the side that stung mildly. I shot a look at my arm to see that good old righty was soaked up to the elbow. The black fabric of the sleeve clung to my arm in a mildly uncomfortable fashion, dripping water onto the wooden prison I'd found myself on.
With marginal alarm I realized I had started rolling in my sleep. If I hadn't come to so easily I could have rolled off the raft. A surprise swim might have sounded inviting, if not for the fact that I was still stranded in foreing waters. Who knows what lives down there? Not about to find out.
How long was I asleep for anyway? Can't have been more than an hour and a half, maybe two- No, wait. Not important right now.
And yes, it seemed that this wasn't some weird beer dream. I was starting to hope. Stupid, naivè me. You know that stuff is for kids with too much imagination.
But my luck seemed to not be entirely pissed off at me. The island I had spotted before the nap was close. Like, really close. A literal stone's throw away from my current location. Lots of trees covered a majority of it from the looks of it.. Good news!
Bad news: The wind wasn't blowing my raft closer to the damn thing!
"... Really?" I question the sail, and by proxy the wind, my sole betrayer. With no alternative I was forced to use the most basic paddling tool to bridge the gap. My own two hands.
So happy the nail-paint is waterproof. What I was less happy about was that the method applied to this problem was so. Damn. Weak! It took me, I don't know, ten-, fifteen, heck, maybe twenty damn minutes to bring the raft close enough where I could safely jump onto land.
But of course it coulnt't be so easy. Of course.
First I had to lift the big-ass bag onto shore, for the fear of the damn raft drifting off the moment I step off. I might not know the contents of that sack, but damnit, I was stuck in an unfamiliar, dare I say alien place! Fuck no I wasn't going to just let an obvious advantage slip right under my nose.
But remembering what happened last time I tried moving it, I needed to formulate a good way to do this. Though, with liberal application of Occam's Razor, I came to the conclusion that simply throwing the thing would be both feasible and effective. Just needed the right technique.
The motion was fairly simple. Raise the load and swing in an arc, letting momentum carry the weight over to the land. I didn't doubt I could do it. In fact, I was fairly confident in my physical attributes. Wasn't no athelete by any means, but I worked out. Somewhat.
Rolling my shoulders and neck, I rubbed my palms together, took firm hold of the massive sack and just did it. Slight raised, start the arc, gather the momentum and at the right moment, release!
Just as expected, the big bag of mystery landed onto the grassy land with some ambiguous noise. In hindsight should have considered fragile content before that stunt, but what works, works. Fragile things aren't that helpful anyway.
The raft was off balance, so I couldn't jump off immediately, but soon enough settled.
"Huh?" I raised a brow at the not sinking raft. "Guess I was just overthinking things." With a shrug I jumped onto land, abandoning that damned sea prison!
Damn, it felt surprisingly good to feel solid ground under my feet! I didn't even know I missed it until that very moment.
I turned to look at the raft, considering what to do with it. I don't think I have enough muscle strength to pull it on land. I could leave it be. Then again, it is also my only known way off this island, so I don't think that's a good course of a-
*PlaCHOMP*
...
O_O
...
"A... I...Huh?"
Was... Did what looked like an oversized catfish just poke out the water and eat my raft whole? But how would it have- The size doesn't- it can't possibly digest-
"... WHAT THE F-!?"
A mass of noisy birds fly out of the forest behind me making a massive racket, drowning out the massive expletive flood I unleashed. Some things I didn't even know could be applied as curses. Clearly I must be an instinctive swearer! Hehe.. heh...eeh...
...
*SLAP*
"Ow!" I cried out. Damn, slapping some sense into myself stings.
I closed my eyes tightly, took a deep breath and made a world-class effort to get my shit together. The previous nuclear-grade shouting helped a lot. I needed my brain to function for the foreseeable future.
"So... instead of being stranded in the middle of the sea, I am now stranded on an island with possibly hungry wildlife," I recount my situation for my own benefit. "Just... Great. Fantastic."
I am so beyond frustrated. This course of coincidences and random happenings were too fucking close to being a pattern. If a third "coincidence" happens within a day, I am flipping my shit.
Opening my eyes with a despared huff, I turn my attention to the much more pressing issue I've now been smacked with. Namely the forest this island seemed to mostly consist off.
On the plus side, it must mean that there is quaranteed to be something to eat here, and a high propability of holding fresh water. Lots of wood, leaves and sticks to make a fire, and the foliage should give decent enough coverage from rain. Overall, a pretty survivable situation. As long as I don't run into a tribe of savage little kids worshipping a pig head.
Damn, that book was dark.
Of course, given my outburst just now, I have good reason to assume that everything living on this place knows I am here and, quite possibly, wants to see how my flesh tastes like. So... that's a negative.
...
"I don't want to think about that," I think out loud, seeking to divert my attention away from plausible threats to my life. That I like living.
Me eyes sloooowly inch to the sack lying on the grass.
"..." I mean, I did intend to see what I had to work with after hitting solid ground.. Now, more than ever, I'd need anything that sack could possibly hold. And, if by some wayward miracle of causality, someone is behind this crap, they'd better have hooked me up with something I can actually use.
Because if not...
I shake the thought out of my mind. Now, let's see what this fat thing has in store!
Of course, first I had to mess around with the damn ribbon to get it open in the first place. I swear, ropes are not meant for this intricate bullshit! The knot is brutal to unravel, but I managed it. But now my fingertips hurt and I'm cranky.
Anyway, I finally open the bag up and my attention is grabbed byfar the biggest and most eyecatching thing is seems to contain.
"... Wow. Is this..." I pick up the object. Just about as long as I was tall. A slender wooden frame, finely crafted and painted a luscious rosy red. I could clearly see and feel the ridges in the wood as I ran my hand across it before moving on to the rod of metal attached to it. I wouldn't call myself an expert but... " Is this a damn long rifle?"
Astonished that I was basically holding up an old, antiquated, yet still deeply respectable firearm, I just kept looking it over in reverence. This was an old-kind of rifle. One of the first of it's kind, the first step to a more modern design we knew today. Even by modern standards these thing held up pretty well.
Though...something was off. On closer inspection, it seems to have been modified to use a cartridge system instead of the standard muzzleloading. Instead of steel balls and gunpowder it used more modern bullets. Load up a single cartridge, fire, eject and reload. Simple, precise, effective. Kind of a bolt-action modification then.
It was a beauty. The wood frame was made from... actually, I couldn't tell. It seemed really durable though, but I wasn't an expert. I just knew guns a little. Hard wood escaped me.
... Damnit!
Anyway, something to defend myself with. That bag better hold some ammo as well, or I will be appropriately livid. If it was sturdy enough it could also give a good whacking. Food for thought.
...
I might be more than a bit happy to have a gun. I just have such a deep respect for these things. Guns have ended wars, you know? I mean, granted, they start just as many... You know what, never mind.
FOCUS!
Taking a quick few minutes to rummage the bag, I came up with a good way to do inventory. Namely, use a brown cloth/tarp that was within and place my findings on it so I can inspect the contents in peace, without all the hassle.
So far, this is what I found:
Ammunition for the modified long rifle. A lot of it too, placed in these neat ammo boxes. By a rough estimate, around 200 standard rounds. And yes, I said stardard. There was more than one box, four in all. All three smaller than the big one and containing what I can only assume to be some form of specialized ammunition.
There were 15 bullets with an ominous brass design on top of their red tips. 10 of what looked like a shrapnel bullet, also with a red tip. 20 orange tipped ones. 30 bullets with a weird class-like tip that seemed to be hollow. And 6 really strange one that looked less like bullets and more like a black glass vial with a firing mechanism. The last one's box was filled with soft fabric, so I didn't want to risk breaking one.
And if that wasn't enough, I pulled out two adorable teeny derringers, one black, one white. Along them was a small pouch filled with maybe 20-25 tiny bullets for them to share. D'awww!
In case it wasn't clear I like guns, I like guns!
Feeling adequately certain that being armed was awesome, I made certain to remind myself that no, gun's weren't to be worshipped. Respect is enough.
There was even a harness so that someone could strap their gun behind their back and carry munitions around, as well as an ammo bag that could be attached to the hip. So that was cool. The derringers could easily fit in my dress' pockets.
Much to my relief the next thing I found was a gun maintenance kit. Oh, how happy it makes me! A gun's worth is parallel to the amount of care you put into it, you know!
I also found a fairly comprehensive chemistry set("This'll be fun!"), a briefcase filled with more fragile instruments, such as ton of glass vials(miraculously only one was cracked from the earlier throwing). Jars of chemicals and other sorts of mystery gunk that made my inner chemist excited, yet extremely cautious. Thankfully none were broken or cracked.
Also, for some reason, a miniature forge. I don't know either, but it could prove useful. Actually, with the right materials and maybe some help... hmm...
The next thing was a pocket lighter. A really simple one, made of steel. Nothing to use it on though. Darn! A pair of round-rimmed reading glasses inside a wooden case, for late night reading. And a pocket sized journal alongside a pen.
Insultingly no rations of any sort. Not a single spare set of clothes. Fuck you, supposed benefactor!
The last thing I fished out of there was a fairly hefty looking book with intricate white covers that seemed to be partially bound with metal for some added bedazzle. Thing was seriously thicker than my arm, though that isn't that much of an accomplishment.
Overall, a lot of mildly useful stuff. Aside from the fact I was now ridiculously well armed for a stranded person, I also now had a way to light things on fire, do chemistry, melt metals or glass and read a book without straining my eyes and keep record of my slowly declining sanity.
... I mean, there are some useful things there. And if it comes to that, that bag can provide tolerable protection from the elements.
But that brings me to what captured my interest. The book. I held the lofty bastard child of some poor tree in my hands and gave it a level look. "The Codex" was inscribed on it in stylistic lettering. Something was sticking up from under the cover. Opening the book up, it turned out to be a folded piece of paper.
Guess it with me now! Is it a letter? You bet it was! And I was not looking forward to reading it. But as a man who partakes in curiosity, I had to indulge myself to its contents.
Also, I need some damn clarity in my life. I hate not knowing things.
Dear, You-Know-Who-You-Are
This world is an unknown one to you, and it is unfair to expect you to be unprepared. So please, use this tome, The Codex, to learn. It contains a great amount of knowledge, of both locations and people.
However, make note. The Codex will grow as you do. It is tied to your journey, so it will expand as you experience this world.
I'm sorry if this is inconvenient, but this was the only way I could clear this with the higher ups.
-E.V.E
This person again? Higher ups? What, is this an organization thing? Am I part of some crazy conspiracy? Was that naked man on the bus right?!
No! No! I refuse to succumb to such lunacy!
I start skimming the book's pages to find that, stunningly, they are all blank. I eventaully stop at a random spot and let our a spiteful laugh. "Someone really is intent of making fun of me. 'Grow with you', the hell is that supposed to..."
I can practically hear my eyes widen beyond their limits as the blank opening I stopped at begins to fill with letters and a picture of the island. Like, they are literally writing themselves into existence.
"... happen." I squeak out to finish the sentence. It- it must be, like, invisible ink or something? Yeah, that makes sense. Relax. Magic isn't real. You're still sane!
Read, yes! Reading is good.
-o-o-o-o-o-
The Island of Rare Animals
A small island in the East Blue that consists almost entirely of a dense forest.
This island is known for housing a large number of very peculiar wild-life that cannot be found anywhere else in the known world. The reason for this has baffled zoologists for centuries, and has been largely abandoned by the scientific community as an enigmatic irregularity.
An island of it's caliber is quite unusual by the standards of East Blue, which largely consists of islands of purely normal variety, and some have even noted that it would be more at home in the Grand Line. Despite this claim, the island is fairly bening in nature.
Currently the island hosts a number of zoologically mixed fauna, and one lone human inhabitant. Try not to make an enemy of a man protecting his long-lasting dream.
-o-o-o-o-o-
... Okay. East Blue? Grand Line? What are those? For fucks sake, for an infornational book you sure are giving shit for context! And what is with this cryptic shit at the end?
Letting out an annoyed huff, I slam the book shut.
Well, at least now I maybe know where I am. Roughly. And if there really is someone on this island, that'd be helpful. Unless they're some sort of maneater. The least I need to deal with is some cannibal.
Or maybe I'm the inhabitant and the book is making fun of- No! Books aren't alive! They don't have stupid opinions! Writers do!
... I really need to calm down. My sanity is going down the damn gutter.
*Shuffle*
My head turns so fast I can hear a snap. Ouch! It hurts, kinda, but I don't notice that much. More pressing matter to focus on. I swear I just head something shuffling the leaves in the forest there.
I strengthen the hold on the book in my hands, ready to give something an emergency bludgeoning. My eyes narrow, keeping a keen eye out for movement. I can't see anything though. Just trees, foliage, a bush, a shrub growing out of a chest.
Nothing out of the-"WAIT A SECOND!" I scream loudly. At the same moment I do so my eye spies a twinkle and, almost on pure instinctual reflext, I place the thick piece of blank literature in front of my face.
*BANG*
What is most definitely a gunshot rings out and something impacts the book in front of my face hard enough for it to knock me in the face and make me fall on my ass.
I admit, I let out a fairly girly scream just then. I'm a man enough to admit it.
"O-oh my god! I'm so sorry!" I hear some, a man's voice, stutter in panic. "Your screaming caught me off guard! I panicked."
I lower the book and bare my teeth angrily. "What the actual fuck?! Who the hell's first reaction is to shoot to kill? I could've died!"
"I-I'm sorry miss- uhh- I mean- umm..."
I growled menacingly and finally got a good look at my assailant. Immediately my rage escaped me, like air out of a balloon.
"... What."
It was, by far, the weirdest thing that has happened to me today. A man with a short black beard and a ludicrously impossible green afro. But no, that wasn't the weird part. The weird part was that he was really short, mainly due to, some-freaking-how, being trapped inside of a chest in a manner that seemed not only uncomfortable, but also infuriatingly impossible!
"... This is it." I lie down and stare at the sky with wide, lying eyes. "I've gone and lost it. Bye-bye mind, it was nice knowing you."
"Uh, excuse me? What are you-"
"Shhhshshshs~," I shush nothing. "It's okay now. You're free of the madness now. Fly free. Fly, machine of imagination! Through the winds of inspiration and across the sea of creativity. Long were we as one, united in purpose. But alas, the hurt can't be mended no more. I let you free..."
"... Are you an idiot?"
"Hey, shut the fuck up and let a guy soliloquy to his poor shattered mind, illusion!" I snap into a sitting position and scream at nothing. "I've had a trying day today! First I somehow end on a raft in the middle of nowhere, then when I finally hit land the raft is eaten by some fuck-all fish and now I've gone fucking insane! So excuse me if I want some me time!"
*SLAP*
Sugar Honey Ice Tea, OW!
"You done?" The bush-hair-man asks.
"Yeah," I intone emotionlessly, rubbing my cheek. Fuck, I slap hard when I'm irrational.
I once more lay eyes on the man. With a green afro. Who is inside of a chest.
"... Yeah, this is still weird."
"Hey, you don't see me making rude remarks of your appearance!" The bush-hair-man yells at me, maybe trying to be intimidating, but I just can't find it in me to feel fear right now. I felt more drained of life, if anything.
I shake my head with a sigh. Can't let this nonesense distract me.
"So, yeah. Hi," I notch one hand up in a half-hearted greeting. "I just got stranded on this island. Who the hell are you, humorously small man?"
"Why should I tell you?" He was glaring at me. I might've insulted him.
"You fucking shot me! Answer the question, pintsize!" I dryly growl. I am not in the mood.
To his credit, he seems to at least feel bad about it. "Yeah, you're right. My name is Gaimon. Sorry about shooting at you earlier."
... Damnit, now I seem like the asshole, don't I?
I let out a sigh, containing all the weight of the bullshit I've had to deal with today. "It's fine. It's fine. Just, been through a lot today. Kind of on edge, and nothing is helping. Quite the opposite, actually," I say. "Gaimon... what a weird name."
He seems to take offense to that. "Well, I introduced myself. It's only fair I get the same courtesy, right?"
The bush-man has a point.
"My name is-" Mental pause! I am stuck in a new world, supposedly, so this is basically a new life. That means... I can be whomever I want! I just need something that I find acceptable, and is also appropriate in some deep, vague and inconsequential manner that will, in the end, not even matter.
But what to pick? Maybe something from what I like, but also hate so I'm double invested. So then... How about from... Oh, that's a good one!
"-Abel," I answer smoothly and hold out my hand. "Hi."
"Nice to make your acquintance," The bush- I mean, Gaimon says and shakes my hand. Damn, that looks weird. They have so little reach! How does he do anything?
"Also, apology accepted. Was kind of my fault as well." I admit. "I would say 'it's not a big deal', but you can't just associate a bullet with that and be like, 'yeah, that all adds up'."
I then get up and dust my dress' behind, now really feeling how damned short this man is. Seriously, it's almost funny if it wasn't so damn weird.
I caught him staring at me, mainly because I was doing the exact same, trying to figure out how that chest-business even worked. This lasted for a while, whilst the awkward silence continued. Eventually, he took it upon himself to break it.
"Uh, excuse me for asking, but are-"
"Yes, I am a crossdresser. No, I do not asssociate myself with the female gender. Yes, I am in fact male." I answered in the typical and almost robotic manner I was used to. Comes from answering the same question over and over again.
The pains of being pretty in a world that just doesn't get the hint. Not that that in and of itself isn't sometimes fun.
I placed my hands on my hips and looked at the woods. I was getting weird vibes.
"So, Gaimon. Where exactly have I ended up in? 'Cause honestly," I land the most dead expression and tone of voice in his direction, "I have no idea where I am."
"Gee, be dramatic, why don't you. Damn, okama," The man somehow does a weird thing where a large waterdrop slides down his head. I don't even... Also, I feel deeply insulted, but I can't figure out why. "This is the Island of Rare Animals."
Oh, so the book wasn't full of shit?
Suddenly Gaimon whips out two flintlock pistols, from his afro of all places, and tries to look menacing. The guy has the face for it but... just... The rest just ruins it, you know?
"I'm only going to say this once, so listen up! Don't try to do anything to the animals here, or the treasure! I'll make you regret it if you do."
Truly, I quiver with fear.
"Wasn't gonna." I stop to think. Did I really mean that? "I mean, a guy has to eat, so I probably would have. Also if something attacked me first, then that couldn't be helped. But aside from those two, no, wasn't going to do anything to terrorize the locals."
... Ah!
"Wait, did you say treasure?"
The man swiftly blocks his mouth with his hands. How do they reach?! "W-what? There is no treasure! Whatever gave you the thought?"
... Is... Is he attempting to lie? After a slip like that? At least try, man! Lying isn't that complex! You say things that aren't true with appropriate confidence and, most importantly, don't contradict yourself!
"... Okay." I decide to let it go. I really don't care anyway. "Just... do know if anything here wants to eat me? 'Cause I kind of like being alive. Would like it to remain so."
Gaimon grins, turning towards the forest(Man, how do you leg?). "Eat you? Heh, don't worry about that. I'll tell my friends not to bother you, 's long as you don't bother them." Oh great. An animal-loving hippie.
"Sounds fair," I say halfheatedly. I really can't care right now.
"Would probably get a stomach ache anyway."
"Oi!" I snap. "I am delicious and good for your health!"
... I don't know why I said that.
Anyway, Gaimon whistles, likely an "A-OK"-signal, and all of a sudden I notice a lot of movement from the forest. So I was observed this entire time? Knew something was up.
And that's when my mind just stopped.
Out of the forest arrived a motley of... of...
"Okay, friends. Don't bother this guy. He doesn't feel that dangerous, but be careful."
Rabbit-snake...
Tiger-elephant...
Rooster-fox...
...Poodle-duck...
"Huh? Hey, guy! You look pale. You okay?"
I shamble over to my spread of things, grabbed the journal and the pen.
With steady hands and iron will, I found the spot for writing in:
Dear journal,
I went insane today. My hell thus made manifest.
-o~O-O~o-
He has a name! Now he just needs a brother to murder, and we are done here.
Poor, poor, stupid Abel. Thinking One Piece makes sense. The nerve of that guy. Shame he has to be such a rational guy. This is not going to be fun for him.
The goal is to update this once a week from this point onwards, or when I've have something on the backlog. I will try to maintain this schedule for as long as possible. Hopefully I'll man up and keep at this, because some of the things I have planned... Hooo-boy!
-Sound of mind(LIES), C-Hablerie