When Tyler Franklin woke up, he had the headache from Hell.
Actually, suggesting that particular origin for the headache might not have been too far off the mark in light of his present circumstances: He found himself on the ground in an unknown place in the woods on an island. Next to him were two bags: One was the duffel bag he had along for the class trip they were supposed to be on; the other was the standard-issue daypack, complete with his weapon and instructions.
Tyler rolled over from his slumber and looked around. For the moment, at least, he was alone...though he didn't know how long that would last, he hoped he'd stay that way a little longer. He at least wanted to get his bearings and all that good stuff that everyone probably wanted to do before...
...that's right, killing eachother. That's what we're supposed to do. Great. One hell of a trip. Thanks for nothing, who-the-hell planned this.
Tyler sighed as he looked at his weapon: A tire iron. The fact that it came with instructions amused him for some reason.
Shame they didn't include instructions on how to get someone in front of this damn thing...
He shook his head, ruffled through the daypack, and sighed. Nothing else of particular use, though at least he didn't expect to starve for now. He also took a moment to glance through his own bag as well, and stared when he got to the bottom.
You have to be kidding me...
His SOTF cards were sitting there, and a frustrated smirk emerged on his face. Never in a million years did he expect to end up in this position. Never did he expect to end up in this place (wherever it was). And he sure couldn't believe the irony of having the two decks of the card game along with him, plus a few spare cards stuck in the box as well. He'd been expecting to have plenty of time to kill, and not in the way he found that he did now.
Ah, well, here we go...
Stuffing his things back in his bag and looking around to make sure there was still nobody around him, and taking the tire iron in hand, Tyler made his way down the mountain quietly, doing his best to ignore the dull throb in his head from whatever they'd used to knock him out. He wasn't up for attracting attention, after all...that just seemed like a bad idea, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to wind up on the announcements too quickly. If this was like the last few seasons, that did occasionally slap you with a bit of a target on your arse.
((B093 Continued Elsewhere))
((OOC: I think I was told I could to a one-shot post and not worry about thread limits in chat...but I can't get in to chat to check this 'cause I'm on a dial-up line right now. So sorry if I overshot the limit here.))