The Patriotic Penetrator

[ViolentMedic]

“Get up, boys! On the double! Make your beds, breakfast will be in the kitchen, and then we'll get started on our morning run. Come on, we're losing daylight! ...Marley, get the hell up!”

“I'm trying, Ma! Stop fuckin' yelling at me!”

“What hour do you call this? This isn't five am!”

“It isn't? But I'm still tired—”

“You're getting slack. Now get out there and slaughter your classmates, go, go, go!”

“Got it. ...Wait, what?”

((M05 Marley Jenkins: Start.))

Marley sat up, still dazed and half-asleep from the gas. For a bizarre moment, he recalled the time when his family had gone camping and his older brothers stole his and Jordan's tent while they were asleep.

Shit, Jordan.

Jordan was in the year under him. Before the annoucement, Marley had been standing near his little brother. Beforehand, he'd kept reassuring him that there was no way he'd be picked for Program. When their school was picked, he was terrified for both himself and for Jordan. When the juniors had been chosen, he'd been terrified and pissed off, but—

Program! Shit, Program! Get up, get up, get up! What are you doing?

Marley clambered to his feet, looking around him. ...Holy shit, what a view. He was standing on a little plateau at the top of a large slope. Getting down was going to be a bitch, but dayum. Marley edged closer to the edge and peered around at the surroundings. He couldn't see any classmates down there, but—

Daypack. Daypack. Weapon. Go, go, go.

Marley was slipping into something similar to his morning routine. His mother got the four brothers up at five. They made their beds, drank raw eggs for a nutritious breakfast and then went for a morning run, which could go for hours. It was very militaristic, because that was the kind of thing that was important in their family. He could practically hear his mother yelling orders like some crazy general, even though she'd only been a gym teacher.

Marley looked around and found his daypack half-hidden in the gorse bushes. He dragged it into the open, plucking bits of plant life from the edges of it.

Okay. Everything's really shit. But it could be worse. Jordan's safe, and Patriot High wouldn't be chosen again. This is a good location. I can see pretty far around. Find some allies and maybe I can even last for--

...What. The. Fuck.

Marley had opened his daypack, expecting a gun or a melee weapon. Something useful, at least. He knew there were joke weapons, but... but...

What. The. Fuck?!

Marley pulled out his weapon. A six-inch-long dildo in the patriotic colours of America.

WHAT. THE. FUCK?

“OH, YOU FESTERING DICK-FACED WHORES OF--”

Marley spent the next full minute screaming at the top of the plateau. It would have been cinematic were it not comprised entirely of angry but very creative swearwords.

Eventually, he calmed down. Well, not really. He just ran out of swears. He breathed heavily for a few moments, before realising that he'd screamed loudly while in the middle of a fucking game of death. What was he thinking?! He had to get the hell out of there before some jerk with a semi-automatic weapon jumped out of the gorse bushes and gunned him down. Yes, he was muscular and awesome. But he couldn't deflect bullets.

Marley glared down at the dildo before shoving it back in his bag. Maybe he should have thrown it away, but it was the only weapon he had. Just him and the patriotic penetrator.

He hoisted the bag up, made sure it was zipped, and then he ran.

What was he going to do?

He was gonna survive. He didn't know how, nor how long he'd manage it for. He just needed to find someone. Someone who wouldn't shoot him in the face. It couldn't be that hard, right? Maybe find one of his friends. They'd know what to do.

Until then. Run.

((Marley Jenkins continued elsewhere.))