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Elapsam Semel Occasionem Non Ipse Potest Iuppiter Reprehendere; Private, for now
Topic Started: Nov 11 2016, 06:05 PM (1,250 Views)
Zetsumodernista
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escaping the real world to face reality
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
"Yes, actually."

Alan said it reflexively. What did it say about him that the first thing to say off the top of his head was something witty? Cuz that was totally witty. Definitely.

"But, uh, seriously, did anything eventful happen here? Or, uh...anywhere else if yuknowutimean"

He trailed off, mumbled. Well. That was...new. Unusual. Exotic, novel? Not quite. Hey, it's not like you can fault Alan for losing some confidence. Couldn't even take down a little girl. A little girl who'd killed someone without the giant sword she was now carrying, true. And who had now gone on to kill, uh, Bradley. But still. His...male pride? Fuck, since when was that a thing? But yeah, his--let's do an exaggerated eye-roll here--male pride had been hurt.

She'd fucking deserved it, too, seeing as she'd gone on to kill...well. Y'know. Show of hands, how many people actually mourned Bradley? Like, trollface all you want if that's what you are, but could he not be an ass about it? Alan wasn't an ass about it. Right? Damn fucking right. But even if it was--if this kept up Alan's eyes were gonna roll right out of his head--just Bradley, she was a repeat murderer now. That made it all a little easier to walk away from that mess, knowing they'd gone and done the right thing. Or, well, tried. Trying don't count for anything, but hey! No more hesitation from now on. You're not supposed to angst about your past decisions. No. You put a bullet in their head, because fuck them, they're the fucking bad guy and if they weren't they wouldn't be dealing with you, and then you spit out a shitty post-mortem one-liner and the audience is all like "YEEEEEAAAAHH!" Sunglasses. Breeze in your hair. Sweet.

Which brings us to another point: what exactly the fuck was he doing here? He'd been having that little internal monologue go on for just a bit long, now. The awkward silence had stretched past awkwardness and was now turning into...something. Shit. C'mon, man, you still got this.

"Hmm. Well then. Who did you lose?"

Yeah, that was good. It was believable that Alan was reeling a little, struggling a little to find the right way to tiptoe around a difficult subject, or still coming to terms with something he'd heard, or something. It was believable because it should've been true. And it was. Kinda. But not as true as it felt like it should've been, though.

He thought about asking her if it was Bradley she missed. Decided against it on grounds of taste. Besides, you never know. Maybe she really did miss Bradley. And he was getting the rush that he got during cross-examination, now-- weighing, analyzing, brain going a million miles a minute as he found the angles, rooted out the weaknesses or made his own, and so what if that meant he was treating this little social interaction as a game? As a competition? Damn right that's what this was. And it's not like he was trying to hurt her, anyways. So we're all good.

Unless someone goes psycho, anyways.
Edited by Zetsumodernista, Nov 14 2016, 06:53 PM.
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G056: Asuka Takahara: The one who can out-pretentious them all.
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Zetsumodernista
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[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Oh, fuck yes. Finally someone with a gun that he could bring into the fold. I mean, we're still a ways off from becoming a legit rebellion, but a gun was a start.

But first: Some polite conversation. "Like fuck you were. Not gonna lie, didn't always love the fucker, but still not exactly glad he's dead. Though I guess I feel more bad about not feeling bad than actually feeling bad. Or something."

Pleasantries accounted for. Now to get down to business, sorta. Didn't want to get too business-like, though, seeing as Mia seemed to be using goofiness as a coping mechanism.

"But it'll be okay. I have a plan, if you want in. And then we'll never have to feel bad about not being miserable when our most hated classmates die again. Or feel actually bad when someone like Jerry dies."

Wouldn't do to disrespect the guy, would it?

"And, like, obviously I want you in on the plan since you're the only one here with a gun. Cuz things are gonna get messy, and the rebellion needs soldiers, right? So we can make this all blow up in the faces of the bastards responsible for this. You can keep your gun or whatever, but I lowkey really need you in this right now, or none of this is gonna work. And, like, having this work is gonna be objectively good."

He smirked at the camera. Yeah. Underestimate me. Keep on doing it.

"You in?"
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Zetsumodernista
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escaping the real world to face reality
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Alan had plans.

Well, maybe not exactly plans. More like strategies. General objectives, and a good sense of what he should be doing right now to further those objectives.

See, this is why he did Lincoln Douglas. No dumbass partners. Not that he thought other people were stupid or anything, but they tended to fuck things up. Alan liked chaos. He liked things to be fucked up. He just wanted it to be under his control. Only he can protect the chaos or some shit like that.

What, you implying that Alan doesn't have a real plan? You sayin' his plan ain't good enough for you, Mia? Fuck you. Hey, get this-- we are the I-N-S-U-R-G-E-N-T-S. There. Spelled it out for you. Look, if you wanted a serious plan, you should've found a group that wasn't bent on blowing up the system. Because plans are for the system. Or something. And you really really shouldn't ask Alan do to plans. Cuz Alan didn't do plans. Oh, he could do plans. But he couldn't do plans. Make sense? No? Okay okay let Alan clear that up for you. The rebellion had to work without a real plan or it wouldn't be a proper rebellion. You're not cut out for the cause, kid.

Of course, he would've preferred to talk a little more before going all psycho on Mia, try to maybe get her in so they can have her weapon without a fight. Still a shitty thing to do, probably, but eh. At least everybody'd leave with fewer bruises. Yet another reason he didn't like having plans where he had to get people to do something other than fuck things up. Cuz then they fuck things up.

Couldn't exactly blame them, of course. Snap decisions were his style, too. The difference? His snap decisions were the right ones. Always. Because even when they fuck things up he still wound up happier than he would've been if he'd carefully thought things out and optimized something. Plus, they fuck things up in a fun way anyways.

Hey, this was kinda fun, right? Not that Alan liked violence. But conflict. Excitement. Chaos. He was drunk, stoned, tripping, high out of his mind. Never mind that a bunch of those were incongruous.

Mia was strong for her size. Shouldn't have been surprising. He'd even told himself not to be surprised by it, in the split second before he'd tackled her. And yet his body was still caught off guard a little.

No problem. Just hold her down, Kaitlyn'll get the gun, we'll be on our merry way with an apology and a promise to make things up to her later. They'd gone too far to take back his promise now.

Mia squirmed. Nothing personal, kid.

dear god dear god tinkle tinkle hoy

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Zetsumodernista
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What the fuck, Kaitlyn.

Okay, it's not like either of them had totally trusted each other from the beginning. Stay calm. It's not like an outright betrayal or something. She was just being smart. Being smart was laudable, right? So everything was okay. They got the gun. The revolution would live on.









Oh. Yeah. Then that happened.

"How much did you fucking put in her?!"

He glared at Kaitlyn. Mia's breath had slowed and stopped by then. Not much point in trying to revive her. You can't really CPR an overdose. Could you? Fuck it. Alan was too pissed to care. Yeah, he knew how dumb that sounded. He didn't care about that either.

"If you wanted her down you could've just clocked her in the face or something. Or at least read the fucking manual for the thing. Or, or--"

Okay. Damage control. He was an accomplice to murder. Everything was fucked. His name wouldn't go on the announcements, because what a big fucking comfort that was. He'd--okay, he hadn't really murdered someone, he hadn't even really been an accomplice to murder since this was definitely accidental manslaughter, it

No. Stop trying to avoid responsibility. So what if his motivations were alright? So what if he hadn't meant to, or hadn't been the one to push the plunger? Mia was still dead. And he'd almost always ran on utilitarian frameworks in debates. Cuz deontology was stupid.

Okay. Take a good long look. Take a good long look at Mia. Lock the picture in your memory. Take a good long look at yourself.

Oh. Oh oh oh fuck no.
Edited by Zetsumodernista, Nov 20 2016, 09:39 AM.
dear god dear god tinkle tinkle hoy

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Zetsumodernista
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[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Fine.

Let's take a look at Alan. Take a long, hard look, because Alan was many things but he wasn't delusional, right? No he wasn't he was always ideologically consistent and preached what he practiced and, and what was it that he preached again? Utilitarian, greater good, badass motherfucker. And, well. Look at him now. Innocent girl murdered in cold blood, and it's all worth it, but how do you feel? Yeah, Alan, fancy that. How does it feel?

He wasn't the hero they deserved, but he was the hero they needed. Yeah. Real fucking clever, was how he felt. But seriously, let's take a moment now and

"Yes."

How does it feel when

"It really is all my fault."

Well. Turns out it feels damn good.

And here's a big stupid grin from Alan now, kinda delusional-- no, definitely delusional, make sure you show your teeth and really force the thing out and if he could he'd do a big stupid evil laugh that'd be perfect. But he wasn't quite buying it yet. He wasn't quite buying it yet, and you know why?

Ideological consistency. Preach it, brother. Then you can do your fucking evil laugh.

Okay okay okay time for Alan to be actually totally completely honest with himself and yeah let's get on with it let's take a look. Stop wasting time. Hey, look, he knows he's stalling. Motherfucker's gotten self-aware.

So for real this time

A lone badass never had a chance of making this shit happen. So, like, what. Get a team, right? And if he's taking this approach, if he's gonna rebel no matter what it takes then it makes sense to be, like, ruthless. Pragmatic. Utilitarian. So far, so good. Except, well, y'know.

Turned out Alan was just a lone badass motherfucker.

"Oh, yeah, fucking wonderful. My fault you went and pulled out a fucking syringe I didn't fucking know about and used it on Mia, huh? That's totally my fucking fault. Fuck you."

He could barely look at Kaitlyn. Looks like he still hasn't followed through all the way. Close your eyes, hold your nose. Swallow. What does it do to him? Transformation. He becomes a new man. A remade man. An ubermensch. Okay, so the last one's a bit over-the-top, but that's all Alan had ever wanted to be. Over-the-top. Badass. Motherfucker.

There. He'd gone and said it. Alan was rebelling cuz that's what he did. Come death or high water or especially hell, Alan Banks gonna rebel, even if it's doomed. But if success ain't his game, how he gonna justify all the shit he pulled?

Simple. It's the rebel way. Wind in his cape. Wind in his hair. Doesn't he look so fucking cool? Yeah. Don't even pretend you don't think it. Thing is, he wanted some more wind in his hair, and he knew what he was gonna do to get it. Repeat it to yourself. Again. Ideological consistency. What're your ends, Alan Banks? And how you wanna end?

Alan opened his eyes. Looked at his hands. That's what you do when you're remade, right?

"But hey. Fuck me too. I think this can be the start of a beautiful partnership. Eh?"

New dawn. New day. C'mon, smile. Do it for real. Don't force it. You're feelin' good.
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Zetsumodernista
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[ *  *  *  *  * ]
"Fuck off to you too, then."

Man, it'd be deliciously dastardly if he went and punched her lights out right now. Grab her gun, give a one-liner, bam. Headshot. There was the issue that she, y'know. Had the gun on her right now.

Why was he compromising on this again? New life, new code. And you value the new code above all else, because what else are you supposed to do?

Well. There's a lot of stuff he'd be missing out on if he went out right now. Like, how can you be a new man if you're dead, right? Of course. Being absolutely devoted to an ideal means knowing when to make compromises to further that ideal, even if that means betraying your values in the short run. That was a dangerous path to walk, but so be it. Worse things could happen than becoming a misguided do-gooder again.

Um. Question to answer. Well. Since he got denied on that thing, he was gonna answer this question his way. No cost there. Right?

You shouldn't even be asking yourself that question. C'mon. You're not supposed to be so fucking cautious.

"Sunday high noon, chapel. See you there."

Time to be an agent of chaos. Kaos. With a K. Edgy.

Oh, who was he kidding.

((Alan Banks continued elsewhere))
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