Jamez always carried around a bug so that his superiors at TOR would know constantly what he was doing and saying. Most would find it intrusive, but for some reason Jamez thought it was one of the most important of his gadgets. He liked to know that an ally would be at his death-and he was absolutely sure he was going to die while working for TOR.

But he wasn’t quite ready for that to happen quite yet, hence his strong attraction to his defense.

He felt lost without his gun. It felt like he was missing a limb. Or a piece of clothing. Or a major organ. To put it simply, Jamez just felt entirely bare and empty. He didn’t particularly like using his gun, but the fact that he always had it with him always seemed to comfort him during a potentially life-threatening situation.

Jamez stormed out of his hut, furious. He squinted in the bright light outside in the small street and faltered for a moment. He was thirsty. Hadn’t he just been thirsty a little while ago? Wait, what had happened? Oh yes, that’s right, he had fallen unconscious from dehydration. Right, and he had even comprehended this a moment before thinking that friendship did not spawn from encounters such as this one all that often.

Silly of him to have let it slip his mind.

One of the monks approached him and threw their hood off, revealing themselves to be the one that had greeted Jamez when he had first arrived. “Mr. Blak-”

“Ah, good, I wanted to speak to you,” Jamez responded.

“Yes well, you should-” the monk started, but was quickly interrupted by Jamez.

“No, don’t talk. I’m talking.”

“I see that, but-”

Jamez put his hands on the monk’s shoulders and leaned over him, “Who took my gun?”

“Well that was me, sir, but-”

The monk toppled over backwards, stunned by the sudden, intense blow that had just collided with his face. From the ground he gaped up at Jamez, who happened to be grinning as he looked at his own clenched fist.

“Huh,” he said cheerfully, “I don’t feel quite as bare anymore.”

“Well you should,” the monk said, frustrated.

“What do you mean?” Jamez asked, still sorta annoyed.

“You’re not wearing any clothes.”

Jamez’s eyes got wide. He glanced down at his nethers and-yup, no clothes. Well, this was awkward. “Uh, yup, I definitely feel… quite… bare.” He ducked back into his hut and was startled by a sudden, loud noise coming from inside his ear. It was the sound of Lentesko’s laughter. “I hate you,” Jamez murmured into his ear piece.

“Who are you talking to?” the monk asked as he entered the hut. Jamez quickly covered his… area.

“Uh, hello, trying to find some clothes here,” Jamez exclaimed.

“This is our way of making sure our patients remain in bed as they should.”

“Well it’s effed up and I want some clothes.”

“Well, too bad.”

“Well… I’m sorry that I punched you,” Jamez sighed, bowing his head slightly.

“Ah, yes, about that,” the monk said with a cruel smile, “You simply cannot stay here if you maintain those violent tendencies. We are monks, after all.”

“Of course. No monk would ever endorse violence,” Jamez said with a small smirk, “Not ever, would they?”

“Of course not.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Alright.”

A moment of awkward silence passed.

“Right,” the monk said, “So you will be locked inside your hut here with our holy scriptures until you have learned to dispel your violence-related thoughts.”

“Sorry, wha-?”

“That is, unless you wish to leave our settlement, which you won’t be able to do for a long while, considering your condition.”

“What condition?!”

“You have no water… or coverings,” the monk responded simply and walked away.

Jamez gaped as he watched him go, eventually moving over to the entrance and peeking out. There, blocking his line of site, were three monks standing guard. He would have normally just taken them all by surprise and ran away, but one, that was not his mission, and two, he’d fought these monk people before, and they were, oddly enough, trained rather well in combat.

He remained secluded inside of his hut for what he deemed, personally, too long. The problem for him was not that he didn’t want to read the scriptures, or even that he hated the monks too overwhelmingly to learn about their religion. The problem was that the monks’ holy scriptures were boring as hell. Plus, even when he was able to read for more then three minutes at a a time without falling asleep, he hardly retained any of the information.

“Alright,” he said to himself after becoming completely fed up with being isolated for so long, “I’ve been trained for kidnappings. How do I get water and, preferably, get out of here?”

“You weren’t kidnapped,” Lentesko said through the ear piece, “And you know what you have to do.”

“That sounds far more dramatic than it actually is,” Jamez sighed.

“It’s true, though, Jamez. Just read the holy scriptures.”

Jamez avoided answering for a moment, instead staring intently at a pipe that was running up the wall. He frowned, “Do you just sit there listening to this link constantly? I mean, don’t you have any other agents you need to be advising or something. It takes all the fun out of the problem solving to constantly have you in my ear.”

Jamez heard Lentesko laugh over the line. “Well, the ear piece is attached directly into a certain part of your brain-it’s set up to open up the link with me whenever you subconsciously ask for my help.”

“Wow,” Jamez said, taken entirely aback, “I had no idea it was that complicated.”

“Well, it’s not really complicated at all,” Lentesko told him, “It’s just a matter of getting it in the right place.”

“How do you do that and not accidentally miss and kill someone?” Jamez asked.

“No one but our TOR specialists have ever attempted it,” Lentesko said, “It’s a very difficult process.”

“Also, how do I not remember you guys putting it in?” Jamez said as he stood up and walked over to the pipe, “That sounds like it would be a rather traumatic situation.”

“Well, you were doped of course.”

“Of course.” He put his ear up against the pipe and heard the most magnificent sound he’d heard in a long while. He turned and searched his surroundings for something large and sturdy-a club of some sort.

“What are you doing Jamez?” Lentesko asked.

Ah! A table!

Jamez upturned the small table and swung it to collide with the pipe. There was a rather loud crack as the table snapped into several different pieces, each of which subsequently falling to the ground.

“Ahh, nothing,” Jamez responded, “Just talking to you.” He turned back to the innards of the hut to find something sturdier than the table. There was a large amount of nothing there.

“What was that sound then?”

He pulled the blanket that he was using to cover his bottom half off and wrapped it around the pipe.

“I just tripped.”

He pulled on the blanket to no obvious effect. He tried again and, with a crack and a small hiss the top portion of the pipe became dislodged from the bottom and a small trickle of water escaped out of the opening. He breathed a large sigh of relief.

“And what was that crack.”

Jamez kneeled down and put his face against the pipe, desperate to be hydrated once more. When he was thoroughly satisfied he responded, “Nothing, I just broke a limb.”

“What? Are you okay?”

“No, yeah, I’m fine. It was a minor limb.”

Jamez pushed the pipe back into its proper position and then sized it up. It ran all the way from the ground up to a small hole in the top covering of the hut. There were small metal connections between it and the only solid wall in the hut.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He wrapped the blanket around one of the connections and pulled himself up. Holding himself there, he swung the blanket around the next connection and pulled himself up further until finally he was to the very top. He pulled on the sides of the hole to make it large enough to fit him through and then proceeded to climb out onto the top of the hut. It was just strong enough to hold his weight.

He replaced the blanket around his waste and put his hands on his hips to survey the small alleyway below him, between huts. There was no one in sight on either side, but there was one monk pacing there, just underneath him.

After considering the jump for a significant amount of time, he jumped down and landed just behind the monk. With one swipe of his arm, the monk was out cold. He smiled and disrobed the monk so that he would have something to wear. He was surprised to find that this was the very same monk he hat originally met when he had arrived.

Covering the scantily clad monk with the blanket, he covered his face with the hood and peered nervously into the street outside. He literally did a double take when he saw what was there in the center. It was what Jamez could only describe as a spaceship, even though it happened to be nowhere near space.

It was large, silver, and oddly perfect looking, with not a scratch on it. There were two engine things on either side that were emitting noxious chemicals into the air and were swiveling side-to-side and up and down, seemingly of their own accord. All of the monks were filing onto the ship.

Eventually, the last few stragglers jumped onto it as the ramp began to close and the ship began to rise very slowly. Quickly, Jamez scrambled into the nearest hut, and then to the next, and then to the next-there they were! All of his things! Heck yes!

Very quickly, Jamez grabbed his belt and pulled off a small, grey item. Pressing a red button on the side, he chucked it at the ship. It collided with a small clunk and stuck in place.

He just stood there for a moment in the completely desolate settlement, watching the ship as it went.

“Lentesko,” Jamez finally said into the earpiece, “The monks just left the settlement, I installed a tracking device onto their transport, though, so can you get on tracking that?”

“Can do, Jamez, good job. Lay low until we can get you a helicopter out of there.”

“Alright. How long’s that gonna be?”

“Long enough.”

“Nice.”