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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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Jae's hand twitched towards the knife as Fiyori passed by, but she was gone before he got to it, leaving him seething and staring at the mess before him.

Fuck Fiyori. Fuck her assumption that he cared at all what she thought of him, that she could just toy with him because she felt like it. Fuck her and Brendan, Brendan's girlfriend, Jon, Michael, the assholes who had put him here, and anyone else who thought that they had any say in how Jae was going to live and die.

He wasn't angry, not quite. That flame had well and truly died out, and the almost confused emptiness that remained in its place left Jae doubtful that he would ever feel that consuming, driving rage again. He was definitely resentful, though, and he held onto that. He didn't have much, but he still had good ol' spite, and he had a bag full of weapons that could guarantee that if he saw Fiyori again, she wasn't putting him in the ground on her terms. He would cut his own goddamn throat before he gave her the satisfaction.

Jae's eyes settled on Kimiko properly for the first time.

"Kimiko...?"

She was slumped over, facing away from him. Watching for a few moments longer confirmed that she was no longer breathing. The chances that she survived the explosion had been slim to begin with, and Fiyori doing whatever the hell she had been doing to Kimiko's body more or less confirmed it, but Jae still pushed himself up and away from the door and reached out to shake her shoulder.

Kimiko's head lolled to the side, showing off the shrapnel lodged in her throat and the blood oozing from around it.

Jae let her drop and sank back against the door. There was a gory mess nearby that had once been the other girl, but Jae had no reason or desire to inspect it.

His head was throbbing. It was hard to tell if he had been knocked out or stunned or what. Didn't really matter; it was easier to take stock of the parts of his body that weren't cut up, bruised, or otherwise painful at this point.

There was no sound in the cafeteria except for that of Jae's breathing. Time passed, probably. Last he'd checked, that was one law of nature that was still in working order. He eventually groped for his bag and retrieved his dwindling supply of painkillers, downing them and some water. More time passed and Jae's various aches and pains subsided, just a bit.

He didn't want to get up. If he left, it was almost inevitable that he would run into somebody that he didn't want to see. If anybody left decided that they wanted to see him, they could damn well come in here and get him. He wasn't about to make it easier for them. There was nothing to do except trying to distract himself somehow while waiting for more time to pass.

Jae's eyes fell on the bag again, and he spied the neck of the bottle of Jack Daniel's that he had taken from the pub the previous day. Lifting it from the bag showed that the bottle was surprisingly intact - a little chipped on the bottom, but still good, cushioned from the blast by Jae's body and the other contents of the bag.

...Yeah. That would do.

((Min-jae Parker continued in When I grow up, I want to be Nothing At All))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Battle Royale · The Cafeteria