I'm Younger Than That Now

[Tythanin*]

What the fuck.

Out of all the ways Megan could have replied to his and Alex's comments, a short and sweet "Fuck you." followed by a rant wasn't high on his list of possibilities. Maybe some more reasoned arguing, maybe brief acceptance, maybe sudden cheerful weirdness that Megan had made her stock in trade. Hell, rampant cursing and ranting were on his list, except they weren't immediately bunched together. Brendon was so caught off-guard by her response that he could only look at her incredulously. He wasn't even exactly sure how he should feel about this.

That confusion ended pretty quickly and anger quickly took its place.

Where the fuck did she get off talking to them like that? She sounded like a fucking goddamn martyr, like she was the only beacon of hope in the hellish land that is light and by not immediately agreeing with her asinine and dangerous plan, he and Alex had tossed away the last bit of salvation offered to their wretched souls. She said they thought she was stupid? She just fucking left alone to search for goddamn fucking weapons when not just hours earlier, a young man named Matt Payne had done the exact same fucking thing and died for his efforts. Did she think it was going to be different? Did she think that somehow her helmet was going to save her? Well apparently it fucking did because she didn't even seem to acknowledge that she had acted like a real fucking idiot back then and basically made Brendon waste a whole hour of his goddamn life worrying and wondering what the fuck she was doing.

What kind of pretty fucking world did Megan think they lived in anyway? She wanted to fuck the system, did she? She wanted to show the whole fuckin' world that everything in this game was wrong. And she thought the way to do that was to prove that not all killers were actually killers? This fucking shit was already being broadcast. Did she not realize that people watching their TVs couldn't see who was or wasn't evil? Who knows, maybe the footage was being edited to cast everyone in a fucking evil light, it's not like he could fucking tell what that bastard Adams was doing.

But how was she going to spread her message? Walking from killer to killer, trying to be some sort of messiah that separated the guilty from the innocent and condemning those who didn't follow in her footsteps? Killers weren't killers, heroes aren't heroes? What kind of bullshit fucking philosophical drivel did she think ruled this world? Sometimes reality isn't black and white, but that doesn't mean it isn't always just a fucking gray world. There were killers in this fucking place, people who wanted to kill for the hell of it.

So she was being realistic, was she? She knew she was going to die so this was her last act, her saving grace, the selfless action that would put her on top of the pillar of righteousness. She questioned why he wanted to stay alive, what he would get out of the whole deal besides suffering and pain and memories of friends and fellow classmates dying one by one.

He knew what he would get. He would get every single second left to him to survive, to experience, to continue growing. He would get a chance to take one more step, to remember one more friend, to keep trudging along. After the game? Well, it's not like he would know what lay beyond that. No one knew what happened to the winners afterward, so it's not like he could say he would look forward to signing some bitching movie deal and become a superstar. But that was the future. Now was now. And now he needed to fight against those that would kill him so he could get the most important thing that life had ever given him.

His future. That's what he fought for.

If this had been any other time, he probably would have wondered if he had stolen that from some sort of script or book that he had read sometime, but this wasn't any other time. Because then came the attacks and Brendon felt his anger escalate exponentially. He felt his chest tighten as she said that she was doing more than he had done so far and he briefly remembered all the friends (new and old) that he had lost so far...especially after promising them that he'd try his best to keep them safe.

That hurt. That really fucking hurt. It was like being slapped in the face, the way she had said that. And the way she had followed it up by calling for him and Alex weak. He felt like his chest was going to burst and it felt like he had tore open his palm the way his fists were clenched. And then Megan capped it off by putting her fucking retarded football helmet and spouting off a one-liner full of badassery. At school, he probably would have given her a round of applause for that one.

Here, it only made him angrier. He was about to reply when Alex spoke up first and he kept his mouth shut, immediately filtering out his voice. At the moment, he really couldn't give a rat's flying fuck about what Alex was going to spew out of his mouth. Alex could have said that he knows how to shit golden eggs or that there was a fucking goddamn tank and he was riding it except they couldn't see it because it was invisible and then he could have blown up the whole fucking moon and he wouldn't have given a shit. No, at the moment, all his focus was on Megan and paying her back for all the bullshit she had just tossed and rubbed in his face.

So when Alex finished talking about some plan to fuck with Adams or something whatever he didn't really pay attention to it, he got to his feet, his eyes blazing as he glared at Megan Jacobson. "You bitch. You fucking cocksucking bitch. How dare you? You're angry cause we think you're stupid? That we think you're naive? What do you think we have to go from, huh? How do you act, Megan? Answer me. Before you came back from doing whatever the fuck you were doing with Bryant Carver, how did you act? Were you the leader? Were you the one with the plan? No, you were being your cheerful, random, and fucking weird self!"

"And what the fuck was up with your stunt earlier? You wanted to find a weapon that you had to find by your fucking self? What were you going to do, bring it to me as some sort of victory trophy and raise it into the air and scream, "I'M A BIG GIRL TOO!" Show that you're strong enough to survive in this game because you picked up a dead kid's gun?!" He wanted to hit her. He wanted to hit that self-righteous face in its dumb helmet. "You know who also tried that? Matt Payne. You know what happened to him? He fucking died. I guess he just got unlucky, huh? He just didn't understand that killers aren't always evil. I don't know what goes on in that fucking mind of yours, Megan! I just don't! If I had known that this was the fucking result of you prancing off by yourself, I would have just saved myself the trouble of worrying about you for an hour!"

His throat was getting hoarse. He didn't care.

"And you're asking me what I get? I get a chance for a future, a peaceful future. I don't know what pathetic fucking outcome you're looking at where the only things left on this fucking island are murderers and cold-blooded killers, but has what I've been saying just been going in through one ear and out the other?! There's no reason for us to kill each other. You understand that, yes? You understand that right now, at this point, if we were the last three people on the whole fucking island, nothing would happen. And what would Brigadier General Adams do about it? Call in the army? Gun us down with his trained soldiers? Sure, I'm fine with that, I wouldn't fucking mind. It means we've made him do something he probably doesn't do all that often, if not at all!"

"That's why I try to fucking live, Megan! That is my way of fucking with the game! He can't remotely kill us! There is no motivation to kill anyone in cold-blood if you think about it. I don't know what caused everyone else to snap, but as it is, there has to still be people who are willing to band together to just not goddamn do anything! You say that we're twiddling our fingers and sitting on our asses? Funnily enough, that's one of the best fucking ideas! Imagine if we as a whole just sat on our fucking asses! Adams would have to call this whole goddamn season of The Program a big fuckin' joke!"

"The big picture shit, as you so eloquently put it, is that I hope to have an island where I don't have to worry about some fucking crazy-ass bastard whip out a gun and blow me a new hole right through my face because I looked at him funny! I don't have to worry about John Fucking Ferrara appearing out from behind a building and shooting my friends! I don't have to worry about watching Maddie pull out a scared girl from below a desk and shooting her in the head!"

"So do you think they have a reason for killing, Megan? Do you honestly fucking believe that John Ferrara had a reason for shooting at us at the Depot? Do you believe that Maddie had a reason to drag Abby out of her hiding spot and shoot her in the head? Come on, answer me. I bet you don't. You're so desperate for answers, you're so desperate for an all-encompassing reason for this fucking shit that you're going to throw your fucking life away doing something that in the long run won't matter." Brendon's voice dropped for a moment, his tone bitter as he glared at Megan.

"And you know what? That's sad, Megan. That's really sad. I'll agree, there are some people who had to kill in self-defense. It's possible that there were accidents, that there are just some deaths that couldn't be avoided. And if you find one, more power to you. More power to you. Talk to them. Convince them of your ideals, convince everyone watching that they are people too because it's not goddamn like they can just see it with their own eyes. 'Change the game', you so eloquently say. Change it by convincing the people watching that we're people. That we're special. That we aren't just another face on the television."

"Do it believing that you'll be the first person to succeed. I'm sure it's been done before. The Program's been on TV for god knows how many fucking years. Do you ever hear what happens to the winners? I don't and I'm sure Alex hasn't either. Who knows what happens to them? I never said I wanted to win. I just want to survive and protect my friends and I can't protect them from people who want to kill them by prancing around without a weapon and offering a hand to people who quite possibly want to kill me."

"So you're a big girl now. You're all grown up. You've faced reality. You've faced life. And now you're ready to go on your epic quest, to change the hearts of the people of America. To grip the hearts of a nation. You're strong. You're smart. You're wearing an utterly retarded football helmet and you're going to change then game by talking to people and...what? Exactly how will you change the world by talking to killers? I'm sure it will make them more human."

"But the reality is...I'm pretty certain the people fucking watching this show right now don't want humans. They want characters. They want storylines. They want drama, action, murder. People love this show, Megan. So they don't want to see real human beings with real human hopes and real human lives. I'm sure they already have enough of that where they live. They don't want to care about anyone else."

"So you won't die quiet." Brendon said with a snarl. "But you'll die with a whimper. Keep walking from killer to killer without a single method of defense to your name. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to come across only those who are good at heart, that have the spark of goodness within them that can bring them into the light. But soon enough, another Maddie or another John is going to come across your path and you'll offer your hand."

"And they'll shoot you in the face."

He fell quiet after that, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know how long he had talked. His throat hurt, his head was beginning to hurt, his chest was hurting, his stomach was churning...everything hurt. He didn't even know if Megan had listened or even understood anything he had said. It wasn't like he was going to change her mind anyway. She was hellbent on accomplishing her goals come hell and high water and that could have been admirable.

And then she left, offering only minimal comments and saying her farewells. Wishing them luck. Hoping to see them again.

And it pissed him off. After everything that had just happened, this was how they were going to split? They had traveled together for god knows how many days and went through...well, way too much for anyone person. And that was it. A "See you" and "Good luck" for the road and she was off. Nothing else. Perhaps that's just how it was. Any prior bond, any prior connection...just severed by a few basic sentences. It pissed him off that this was the ending. If things were going to break apart like this, he was not going to just turn around and chat with Alex.

No, definitely not.

So she cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Go fuck yourself!" as loud as he could.

She didn't react. Probably didn't hear him. It only made him angrier.

"And while you're at it, why don't you go fuck Bryant Carver too!"

...

...

That one had been a mistake. He didn't want to say that. He had meant to keep that one bottled up inside where it could stew for a few moments before he could just expel it by punching something available and punchable. He knew why he had said it, of course. He knew what made him tick.

He was jealous.

Jealous of Bryant Fucking Carver, jealous of the fact that in a single fucking hour he had done more with Megan than he had done in a few days. He had given her drive, had given her a purpose and strength. He had given her a goal, no matter how retarded or idiotic it sounded to his ears. All he had gotten were her tears, her despair, her crazy attitude, and one pinky promise that probably didn't even mean anything anymore. Nothing else, nothing more. He hadn't gotten Megan to be any different than when she was at school.

He was jealous, but he knew it was going to eat at him for some time.

Brendon was angry, jealous, and he was in no mood to stick around and chew the fat with Alex.

So he just gave the other boy a nod and a muttered, "See ya." before walking off.

((Brendon Arrington continued in Going Off the Script.))

[General Goose]

((Writers block - argh. Short shitty post))

And Brendon flipped his shit and had a long, headache-inducing rant. Megan casually ignored it. Megan wandered off into the unknown. Brendon wandered off too, presumably not to follow Megan.

And Alex was alone. Again.

Boy, interacting with Megan and Brendon had been awfully productive.

Shaking his head, he wandered off in his own direction.

((Alex continued in We Shall Be Together in Paradise. Thread over.))