fifthcurriculum | INTRO LOG

Then sit down, shut up, and don't bother me.

[He flips onto his side, grabs a remote from the coffee table and flips on the TV. Just idly going through the channels, never settling on anything for very long. Purely to distract himself and hoping just a little that Petre is the type to be annoyed by channel surfing.]

Are you always this bossy?

[He walks back, flops down, watches John. He isn't paying the smallest bit of attention to the TV.]

Must be an older brother thing. Or maybe you're an only kid? That's gotta be it. Always used to getting your way, right? Mommy and daddy did everything and anything for their darling son and now they've spoiled him rotten.

[No, that's not it.]

Or was it the other way around? No one ever gave you the choice and now you're overcompensating. That's a whole lot of issues, Fire Balls.

You'd make a shitty telepath. Or shrink. Or even Vegas psychic. [Well, it's almost like conversation, at least, not just telling him to leave.] None of the above. What makes you think you know anything about families, anyway?

[Fine. Stick around. Find out just how friendly he gets when he's not listened to.]

[He does know something about families! They make hideous smelling corpses.]

So tell us a story. What is it? What's made John into what he is today.

Not my family. [A bitter lie, but one he believes with all his heart. He rose above them, became something better - his anger and violent distance from others was in no way caused by their emotional neglect and then complete desertion.]

You really wanna know?

I'm listening, aren't I.

[he even leans both arms on the back of the couch, crosses one leg over the other. so interested right now.]

[It's a trick. He's stepping right into it. But for a few days when they were planning the end of year prank to end all end of year pranks, he spent a brief period of time thinking he had a friend.

It's why he's so angry at Petre, and why he still weakens sometimes.]

I was homeless. For three years.

Shit. How'd that happen?

[He's actually interested. And wondering how it works. It's not like he remembers ever meeting someone who was homeless.

(Isn't he homeless, in a way? Even if he's still got a very fancy roof above his head.)]

Not important. [But obviously tied to his family somehow, since they should've been providing him the home, so there's the sore spot. The big, obvious, video game boss sore spot.

He can feel the genuine interest, though, so he keeps talking.]

I squatted in old abandoned factories and shit. Slept in Central Park a lot. Stole so much crap, man, I bet the entire economy of NYC dropped for those three years. Got into a couple of shelters, but they were usually full. You'd find other mutants, groups of 'em, and if you could be useful then they kept you around. I could keep whatever piece of shit place they were hiding out in warm without burning it down, so I was useful.

Then the Spring I turned fifteen, I got pneumonia. After Winter, for fuck's sake, survived the snow and then I got sick. Basically spent a week and a half on a park bench thinking I was gonna die, too weak to feed myself or get water, and when the bright light showed up, Xavier was at the end of it.

[that... that actually sounds like fun to him. an adventure. sorry, John, you picked a really lousy ear in the sympathy department.]

Why didn't you just seek him out? You or the other mutants.

[He never said it was bad. He just said it made him what he is today: wild, unruly, resistant to authority. He misses it sometimes, when he forgets about the oppressive hunger and cold and just thinks about the freedom.]

Because fuck him. We were doing fine on our own. Until I was dying, then I couldn't do much of anything.

[He pulls his lighter back out, playing with it in that agitated way he has.]

I needed to get better somehow. And once I remembered what food and a roof and a bed was like, I just decided to put up with the rest.

[a pause. He eyes the lighter, then back to John's features.]

Don't they make you wanna run away all over again with their rules? Putting you in detention for having a little fun. That's gotta hurt your ego.

[He props himself up on an elbow, glaring across at where Petre's lounging.]

Look, this place is wall-to-wall bullshit. You know it as well as I do. But they're letting me sponge here for free and I'll have some kinda education when I'm done, so I'll wait it out. You think I want to be a bum my whole life?

I don't know. Didn't you say I'd make a shitty telepath?

[Hah.]

Sounds like being a professional bum is more like every kid's dream. Not so much once you've been through pneumonia.

You're the one who was talking about my ego. [His nose wrinkles. You say that I'm cocky, Petre, but is it really cocky when you know that it's true?]

Of course I don't. And I'm not getting far with a sixth-grade education. I doubt this place opens many doors, but it's something. It at least pretends to be a real school, and a private one.

Oh, so you want to go far.

[that actually changes things. John has ambition, not just the desire to fuck around.]

How far are we talking?

I dunno yet. [So much for that. But a poor kid turned street kid is going to have some problems suddenly shifting gears into a world where opportunity is actually something that can be considered.] There's people advocating for mutants, like the X-Men, but they're doing it all wrong. Like they can nice humans into giving us an equal spot in the world. They've got both sides of that wrong.

[and maybe Petre agrees, but - maybe he just doesn't really care after all. He does care about listening to John right now, though, because he's going somewhere. Maybe.]

Go on.

Diplomacy's not gonna do it.

[He smiles coldly, arrogantly.]

And we're not just equal. We're far from equal.

Wow, you really haven't learned a thing since you got here.

[that's all they're preaching all the time, like they want to brainwash every single last student into holding hands and singing We are the world.]

I'm impressed.

Nothing here worth learning. [He shrugs, trying to look casual, but he's on a roll now. There are so few people who will listen to this side of him.]

We don't need talk, we need power. They've got the government. They've got the police. They've got the army. What do we have? Fucking ambassadors, who lick so much ass that they can't spew anything but other peoples' shit anymore, and biologists who just keep saying the same thing over and over again like it'll stop pissing humans off. That's why they hate us, because we're superior.

[He narrows his eyes up at the ceiling.]

I'm seventeen. I can't do anything now. But I know I'm not the only one who gets it and wants to see real action.

[Oh, he likes this. He likes where it's going, a lot. Keep talking, Johnny.]

What would you do?

[He leans in, makes sure no one's listening but him. This is a private conversation, and he wants those words all to himself.]

We could work it from the inside, slow takeover, but that's boring. There's an easy, quick way.

[And he's grinning again, manic and almost childishly gleeful.]

I want a revolution.

[He turns to the side, now, closes his hand into a fist and leans his temple against it.]

And you'd be the one leading it?

[He's smiling, but he shouldn't be mocking John. Not openly, at least, because revolutions scream chaos and he's all about that shit.

Hell, he'd even follow him into one if it proved to be fun enough.]

[He should've known this was leading up to a punchline. Asshole. He's reading that smile, that posture, as completely mocking, and his own face hardens into a smooth mask of indifference.]

Yeah, I'll lead it. And you'll be the first one against the wall.

[Sharing time's over. He's tuned back into the TV.]

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