02-28-2009, 11:01 PM
“Come on—now—lady, I barely—know your name,” Juno giggled through kisses as he was quickly pushed into his hotel room, his wine glass wobbling in one hand as he traced the spine of the woman who was obviously attempting to suffocate him.
They fell back onto the bed, Juno barely getting a chance to sit the glass on the bedside table as she crawled over him, ripping open his shirt and tossing it to the side. He never knew Earthlings could be so utterly hormonal; however, he wasn’t exactly complaining, because this was a beautiful woman—and Juno never passed up the chance to sleep with a beautiful woman.
In time, their clothes were piled on the floor and Juno was left lying underneath her wearing only boxer shorts to separate them. He kissed her neck ferociously, and then she spoke: “Take one last sip of wine, Juno,” she said, “It might heighten your senses a bit.” Juno nodded and reached for the glass, chugging what was left.
And then, he looked up at her, sitting the glass down, and felt her fingers slid underneath the cuff of his boxers. Before he knew it, they had joined the other clothes, as well—but the pleasure he’d been expecting didn’t come quite so quickly as he thought it would. Or at all, really. In fact, the next thing he knew, he was being shoved to his knees into what felt like sand. Cuffs laced his wrists, and he knew that something had gone terribly wrong.
“Alright, take the bags off.” With that, whatever had been blocking his vision was quickly jerked off of his head—it looked to be some type of bag, or sack, as the man had described, but Juno wasn’t sure. He was still drowsy; much of the rest of the conversation was missed by him.
He didn’t know where he was—his vision was blurry, his hearing shot, and his sense of touch weakened. He shook his head, searching for answers, but nothing worked. Eventually, the cuffs he felt on his wrists seemed to dissipate, and he collapsed forward, catching himself with his wrists and panting as everything seemed to be coming back into focus.
Juno looked down at himself. He was in a grey jumpsuit, one which resembled a prison uniform, and his hair was wet and disheveled. His vision was finally focusing again, and his hearing was getting stronger, but he still felt weak. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
He pieced together little bits of what the two blurs of men had said. It all rushed back, as if it has been stored for later usage in his brain. “You are here to be given a chance at riches. There is another team on this island, just like. Six people. Kill them before they kill you, and you'll be awarded 100,000 zeni. That's all. No tricks, no games. Kill them, get paid.”
One hundred thousand zeni? Holy crap, that was a lot of money. Hmmm. Let’s go over the situation: He’s out in the desert, in the middle of nowhere, with five other losers he has no idea who they are, and all he has to do is kill six people to get one hundred thousand bucks?
One hundred thousand zeni would be a good little thing to get him started comfortably on Earth. He would have to try. But more than anything, he’d play along with this little charade because he wanted to know what the heck was going on. He wanted answers. He wanted revenge. The money would just be an extra little prize, he supposed. Needless to say, silence had surrounded the group for a good long time—so, Juno decided he’d kickstart the conversation.
“Some welcoming committee, eh?”
They fell back onto the bed, Juno barely getting a chance to sit the glass on the bedside table as she crawled over him, ripping open his shirt and tossing it to the side. He never knew Earthlings could be so utterly hormonal; however, he wasn’t exactly complaining, because this was a beautiful woman—and Juno never passed up the chance to sleep with a beautiful woman.
In time, their clothes were piled on the floor and Juno was left lying underneath her wearing only boxer shorts to separate them. He kissed her neck ferociously, and then she spoke: “Take one last sip of wine, Juno,” she said, “It might heighten your senses a bit.” Juno nodded and reached for the glass, chugging what was left.
And then, he looked up at her, sitting the glass down, and felt her fingers slid underneath the cuff of his boxers. Before he knew it, they had joined the other clothes, as well—but the pleasure he’d been expecting didn’t come quite so quickly as he thought it would. Or at all, really. In fact, the next thing he knew, he was being shoved to his knees into what felt like sand. Cuffs laced his wrists, and he knew that something had gone terribly wrong.
“Alright, take the bags off.” With that, whatever had been blocking his vision was quickly jerked off of his head—it looked to be some type of bag, or sack, as the man had described, but Juno wasn’t sure. He was still drowsy; much of the rest of the conversation was missed by him.
He didn’t know where he was—his vision was blurry, his hearing shot, and his sense of touch weakened. He shook his head, searching for answers, but nothing worked. Eventually, the cuffs he felt on his wrists seemed to dissipate, and he collapsed forward, catching himself with his wrists and panting as everything seemed to be coming back into focus.
Juno looked down at himself. He was in a grey jumpsuit, one which resembled a prison uniform, and his hair was wet and disheveled. His vision was finally focusing again, and his hearing was getting stronger, but he still felt weak. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
He pieced together little bits of what the two blurs of men had said. It all rushed back, as if it has been stored for later usage in his brain. “You are here to be given a chance at riches. There is another team on this island, just like. Six people. Kill them before they kill you, and you'll be awarded 100,000 zeni. That's all. No tricks, no games. Kill them, get paid.”
One hundred thousand zeni? Holy crap, that was a lot of money. Hmmm. Let’s go over the situation: He’s out in the desert, in the middle of nowhere, with five other losers he has no idea who they are, and all he has to do is kill six people to get one hundred thousand bucks?
One hundred thousand zeni would be a good little thing to get him started comfortably on Earth. He would have to try. But more than anything, he’d play along with this little charade because he wanted to know what the heck was going on. He wanted answers. He wanted revenge. The money would just be an extra little prize, he supposed. Needless to say, silence had surrounded the group for a good long time—so, Juno decided he’d kickstart the conversation.
“Some welcoming committee, eh?”