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.
