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	Davis Gallo did not remember waking up. He had been laying like this for at least five minutes now, waiting for his memory to come back. This was not something he typically did, but when you woke up on a dirt road with no recollection of how you got there, you might have forgotten something important.

	The last thing he remembered was entering hope's peak, and he most certainly wasn't there. Davis could tell just by the temperature. Either he had been out for a long period of time, or he had been moved to a place with a colder climate. He knew he wasn't in new york at least. He had flown to Japan with the idea he would be scouted by Hope's Peak. While this was something most people hoped for, Davis wasn't one of them. People hope if there's a chance for failure, or the situation looks bleak. Davis never hoped, because he knew getting what you wanted was always a matter of of understanding the game and beating it. It was conquest that brought Davis to Hope's Peak, not hope. But none of that explained why he was laying on the ground, outside no less. One possibility was that he had been drugged, but that would mean someone had bested him. And Davis had never lost, and he never will.

	The conqueror stood up and checked himself. He was still wearing his red and cream outfit he won off a ”mack daddy pimp.” It was just a red suit with a vest and a long black tie. It looked professional though, and far better on Davis than that other fool. The tie had to be worn loose though. Chest hair was the symbol of a real man, and he displayed his with pride. The conqueror considered ditching the tie, but he had heard Japan was a lot more strict when it came to uniform codes. Hope's Peak would be no different given its reputation. With his uniform gone over, he ran his hands through his hair. Davis's mullet was still there, as was his 9'o clock shadow. Beards were another mark of manliness, but you needed to be careful with them. It was easy to grow them out too long and look like a “mack daddy pimp.” But he liked his shadow, it was just the right lenth for a man of his caliber. Though it was interesting that his hair was still in great shape. If he had been captured for a long period of time, he suspected his captors wouldn't keep his beard and hair trimmed.

	Davis was on a road leading to a dock and a few cabins. The dock was not as interesting to him as the cabins, so he went there first. They all looked more or less the same from the outside, and were a little bit smaller than your average studio apartment. He attempted to enter all of them, even called out to see if anyone was around to hear him. But he was met with silence. Davis started to take note of the cameras and monitors mounted around the place. It seemed like very tight security for a camp. And he doubted the monitors were there to show kids PSAs about preventing forest fires.  The only reason why you'd need [i]that[/i] many monitors was if you wanted to make sure everyone heard an announcement.  And off in the distance, he could see a fence that sorrounded the entire camp. Davis tried to think about what this might mean. Overabundance of security, cheap lodging, and enough monitors to display someone's ugly mug all over the island. Even though the possibility was unlikely, it was the only one he could come up with. He had been captured. And if the cabin count was anything to go by, there were at least fifteen other people on this island with him.

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	“Who am I?”

	This is a question Neola Akiyama [s](Or Akiyama Neola for those of you who insist on applying Japanese writing rules to English text)[/s] found herself asking herself any time she woke up. It wasn't that she didn't know who she was, it just wasn't always clear who she was [i]pretending[/i] to be. Byakuya would probably get up as casually as possible. No fuss, very focused on whatever task he had to do that day. Sayaka would probably wake up a little slower. vulnerable, but not groggy. She was a pop idol, so this was one of the few times she was allowed to look low energy. Junko would make a big show of getting up. She'd bounce upright quickly enough, but would then proceed to yawn and stretch. Maybe smack her lips a little bit, and play with one of her stuffed bunnies until she was ready for breakfast. Nobody likes it when fashion models complain, since they appear to live such ideal lives. Regardless of what might be troubling them, they need to look glamorus at all times. But alas, there was nothing that really hinted at who Neola was suppose to be. She was naked. Not literally naked, when Neola called herself naked, she was out of costume, exposed. Anyone who looked at her would see Neola instead of who she was suppose to be. Fortunately, her purse was left within arm's reach. With a quick inspection, Neola would see that she had all of her quick change costumes and effects for becoming someone else. This pleased her greatly. She was a bit worried that she might have been separated from it. Neola didn't even notice her phone was missing.

	The impersonator didn't see anything unusual in her surroundings. She didn't remember how she got here, but that didn't really concern her. Neola loved being outside, and the air was cool and fresh. There was a woman laying not too far away from her, and Neola figured she was just enjoying nature's splendor. It was getting bright out though, so it probably wasn't a good idea for the girl to be laying there sleeping the day away. If Neola was in character, she'd know exactly what to do. But since she was “naked,” it was hard to make a choice. The impersonator had to look at the girl and consider her options. She needed to wake up, but it needed to be gentle. After some thinking, the impersonator knew what to do. Though as she leaned over the girl, she could hear a shout. This one sounded young and scared. Neola stood up, momentarily forgetting about the white haired girl at her feet. She didn't know who she was, but she knew who she had to be. The impersonator dove behind a tree and used her quick change kit.

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	[color=pink]”Stop talking.”[/color] A beautiful, elegant woman walked out from behind the trees. With just a look, anyone could tell she was from a wealthy family. She had an intense gaze, and no one wanted to be inside of it. [color=pink]”A real lady can control her pitch at all times, and doesn't need to make such vulgar sounds to get  attention. You're wasting my time, don't violate my ears while you're at it.”[/color] Neola didn't like being mean to such a cute little girl, but that was her character. [color=pink]”And you.”[/color] She turned to face Alex [color=pink]”Only a vagrant would leer at a woman like that. What sort of barn were you raised in where it's appropriate for a man to violate a woman's personal space while she sleeps?”[/color] Neola kept her dagger eyes focused on Alex.