Day One: Part 1

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The trip from the barracks to the island had been a long one. Despite his many flights aboard Cid's airships, the gunslinger had never been a fan of travel by air. He was even less enthused at the thought of flying in what essentially amounted to a metal box with a propeller. As he had sat blindfolded aboard the chopper, the craft bobbing and weaving through the air, Vincent had felt an unfamiliar mix of anxiety and nausea creeping in.

This same gastrointestinal distress still gripped the Prime as he trekked through the black of night on the fateful island. He was not used to his internal organs really having much to say, with Hojo's work effectively rendering them dormant. Vincent could only assume that this was part of the contest in some way, thinking back to what he had read in the library. Perhaps the 'equalizing force' had activated his somatic cells, restarting the once useless organs; the futuristic collar bound to his neck was the most likely culprit, he mused. Anxiety still prickled up his spine, his hands a bit twitchier than he'd like. Though this owed somewhat to the intrusion of his parasympathetic nervous system, he could not help but feel that this inhibitor was having other effects on his body.

Presently the Prime paused his perusal of the island, his first rest in over an hour of walking. He opened his duffel bag, hoping that Syntex had not sabotaged his bag whilst he had been blinded. The ex-Turk moved the various items around, digging for the compass and map. In his search, however, he noticed an item he had not noticed in the barracks. Vincent took a moment to examine it, unsure at first if he knew what it even was. He spied another piece of the item on the bottom of the bag, the idea now clicking in his head. Though somewhat barbaric, he was glad that this item could at least be of some use.

Finishing his item hunt, he took a seat in the grass. The pale Prime unbuckled his cloak and set it aside, laying out his items on the tattered cloth. Though he had use of his new-found stealth abilities and was no longer fearful of its red hue giving him away, he doubted highly that the cloak would be of much use in the close-quarters combat that this contest no doubt would entail. He had likewise since abandoned his mantle shortly after touching down, with the collar making its use somewhat uncomfortable and borderline useless. Now adorn simply in the black cloth-and-leather bodysuit and his signature red bandanna, he got to work tidying his tools. He gently folded the water MREs and other items into the cloth, giving it at least the illusion of protection from damage if he were to get into a scuffle. The compass and map he kept for himself, depositing the rest back into the bag. The Syntex officials had been kind enough, it seemed, to at least mark on the map where he had been thrown out. Judging by the direction he was facing, he mentally marked the path he had walked on the map.

Valentine heaved the duffel over his shoulder and took in a quick view of his surroundings. He knew that the island itself was around 50 square miles, over which himself and the 45 other contestants were spread. The Prime doubted highly that Karl Jak would allow an even distribution over the land mass and that he should suspect enemies nearby. On examination of the map, Vincent saw that there were landmarks spread out, about 10 in all that were notable. Landmarks equaled trouble in his eyes, as this would be where entrants would naturally gravitate, as they offered supplies or a place to defend. The Prime made a mental note to avoid them if possible. The 1x1 block on the map where he had been supposedly been left didn't look like the best place to hunker down, though the gunslinger didn't much like the idea of moving all over the map. His strategy in this contest would be to simply stay alive, not pursuing combat unless he needed to. If the other contestants saw fit to murder each other as fast as possible, this only meant less blood on the ex-Turk's hands; the best of all possible scenarios. Still, he could not simply stand around and wait to be jumped.

The gunslinger sighed, staring into the darkened night. The moon hung overhead, affording a bit of illumination but not enough to be truly useful for scouting. The pitch black night would be a valuable ally for the prime, being as his accouterments blended well with the inky backdrop. Stealth too would further his chances of avoiding trouble, though in an open field it really wouldn't matter how stealthy he was. He would need to find something to hide himself if he hoped to be overlooked. In the distance he though he could make out some kind of road, perhaps, though it could just as well be a cliff in the darkness. The Prime's pondering was put to an end for a moment as an explosion in the distance jarred him back to reality.

“I had better get moving,” the gunslinger muttered, turning his back to the noise. He would shy away from explosions, he concluded.