The Gamer Was Rigged From the Start (Gamer SI, Currently: WURM)

5: Sailors Jittery

Our natural born sailor has arrived on the Big Island of Hawaii. Right on the shores of Captain Cook as he manically rushed out of the water. Spraying water all over as he rushed through the beachfront in a straight path. It was midday so going straight through the beachfront is usually not a good idea when it's populated well. Stomping through the water regardless of speed before his speed acclimated to frantic tuning as he literally ran over beach-goer's, beach bums, and one singular sand castle that sent a child crying.

He was soon on the streetside that was right next to the beach before he started running down the lane shoving and jostling people out of the way as he looked left and right for a specific person.

Finding a Hawaiian, he shoved and pushed people out of his way towards his target. His target was walking along unaware until his blatant full-on acquisition mode, turning around at the last possible second before the fear poisoned him at the worst possible second. Unable to do anything as our special hero grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and easily lifted him up while shaking up a bit side to side in righteous anger.

"WHERE?!? WHERE IS IT?!?!" He screamed at him. Terrifying the man into becoming a raggedy doll all too willing to answer his questions

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" He managed to shout out clearly after the manhandling stopped shaking him around as a ragdoll

"THE COOKOUT! Where is the best cookout on the island!!!! TELL ME DAMMIT!!!" He shook him a couple times before letting him answer

He was dizzy this time for a couple of moments before he can look at him properly dumbfounded.

"Im singaporia- *SLAP*" He was then slapped to the side with a fistful of Abe Lincolns

"USELESS!!!" He exclaimed before quickly quickly looking around for his next intel "acquisition". Spotting as-seen-on-tv fat Hawaiian across the street he quickly stomped his way across the two lane street. Forgetting to do something for a long time, he cleared the first lane with no sweat but the second one got him with an open aired rover truck. Enough force to not really damage his health other than not even registering as he rolled across the asphalt 3 times before stopping. Unfortunately, it gave him some light bruising and a whole lotta pain that only a trusty sip from his vault 13 canteen in hand could deal with.

Getting up easily while taking another hefty sip from his vault 13 canteen. Putting it away before groggily stumbling as a Serb looking man in a puma tracksuit raid gear got out of the truck uncharacteristically seen in his ethnicity who would've just driven off already as is in the nature of Serbs.

I dunno. They're all Russian to me. Just different tastes of war criminal. Gives them character in my book, metaphorically, not the one your reading you putz

"You ok buddy?"

He turned to him, almost stumbling. "IM WALKIN ERE!"

The Serb face turned into something ugly, more than usual anyway "A new Yorker eh?! I shoulda known tvoj jebeni tip!"

He gave a no fucks given bird in response "Jebao sam tvoju mamu ti glupa pičko!" He responded in Bosnian. To which the drivers face lit up in joy before laughing

"Ha ha ha! Jebi i svoju majku kučko!" Flipping him off in return before getting back in the truck and going on his way after our Man cleared out of the way. His personal attention whooshing upon the fatty. Though a stray thought had him wondering why he had never heard of a Hawaiian Sumo Wrestler. Such thoughts went out of his head as he grabbed his thick neck with one hand and put a gun to his head with the other.

He was coherent enough to know putting a gun in his mouth is counterproductive at best, hilariously inconvenient at worst.

"TELL ME WHERE THE BEST COOKOUT IN THE ISLAND IS! OR I'LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!!!!"