The Ivy League--Part One: Quest for Education

[The Decapitated Mole]

Yes, here it is, finally! My first real attempt at a thought-out, serious fic. Here's the little prologue I wrote a few nights ago.

The Ivy League


Prologue

It wasn't the best of times. So deal with it, right? It'll all blow over soon, right? You know, everything will get back to normal, our economy will right itself, the whole world will stop hating us, and America will be the most powerful country in the world. Again. Right?
Our story begins with a young boy. Maybe your age, maybe mine. You don't know, and neither do I, and neither of us really cares enough to look into it and find out for ourselves. This boy's name, well, now, that's something that has plagued me since I first thought of this, probably well over 30 minutes ago by now. First I thought well, I don't think I'll give him a name, I can never think up good names. Then, I thought it could be Alex, or possibly Jake. But then I decided to go with my first idea, after all, and so either the boy's parents were so horribly ****ed up that they never bothered to name him, or I just won't tel you. Either way, you'll never know, and like I said, I don't care enough to elaborate on it, so why bother?
So anyway, here we have this boy. He lives in a normal american suburb, and lives a typical American life, for a child. Ok, so I'll say he's a teenager, just because that's all I am, and it's what I have experience in. So this boy, he goes to a school. He is a misunderstood genius. A depressed, rejected, misunderstood genius with only one thing stopping him from acheiving his dream--Himself. Now, you may be a bit confused, as you don't know what his dream is. This boy's dream was to become a great American hero, end poverty, end these tens of thousands of murders that happen each year. And the truth was, this is impossible. It is in our nature to destroy ourselves, and we will continue to do so until the last human alive, gasping for breath on some war-torn wasteland, takes his own life, simply because there are no others to take.
So this boy, struggling as hard as he could to get through all of his school years, scraping through with the lowest passing grades possible, simply because he did not see the point to doing such pointless labor. And once he was out of High School, it was off into the real world with him. And he had watched a lot of MTV, so he was fully prepared to face the challenges of everyday life.
Now, the boy, fresh out of High School, and trying his very best to stay out of the nightclubs and get into a good, Ivy League college. The only reason that he thought this would be possible was because he thought that since the colleges were so good, the people running them would realize, as he had, that the elementary through high school work was meaningless and trivial. Had he stopped to think about this, he would have realized that the people running the schools had probably gone through them at some point, and therefore gone through the aforementioned schools obeying all the rules and being a perfect little Charlie's Angel. But he didn't realize that because he was too busy being devastated by the fact that he had been rejected to all of these schools before even applying.
So the boy sets out. He has a mission. That's right, a mission. This boy is on a mission to get the recognition he deserves, and he will do whatever it takes to get there, no matter what the cost. And maybe, just maybe, he will be able to save a world that has already begun the slow and steady decent to hell.
This story will have a happy ending. Just like almost all stories do. The nameless wonder will succeed, against all odds, beating out the US in his attempt to save it. That's what always happens. The underdog wins, nice guys finish first, and truth and honesty win out over doom and destruction.
Right?

[DannyBoy]

This sounds really intresting. I really like to see how a serious fic form you turns out. I cant wait to see the first chapter.

[The Decapitated Mole]

Heh, well, I'd like to see how this turns out, too. I just finished the first chapter a day or two ago. I have no idea what's going on, really. Thanks for reading.



Chapter One

Lights.

All I see is lights, all around me. I think of some crazy ****, until I actually wake up, and I'm surrounded by darkness. Nothing, anywhere, and I'm still wondering how I got here. I see shadows, strange moving shadows, and they look vaguely familiar, but then my head starts to throb. Actually, it's been throbbing all along, but I wasn't really consious enogh to realize it until now. Then, I try to roll over, feel the bottle break beneath me, and I know. I've been drinking. Again. So much for my two weeks of sobriety.

As the boy begins to get his bearing, he starts to ask the "strange moving shadows" where he is. Unfortunately, they're all much drunker than he. The only thinking person in the area, save for him, was the hooker he had been ****ing, and she was getting the hell out of there. Along with his wallet, of course. His mission was not going well at all, and it looked like he was going to have to call for backup.

I should have known. I should have known from the start that this wouldn't work. I can't believe I thought I was capable of accomplishing this on my own. I can't do it. It simply cannot be done. That pisses the hell out of me. I'm going to be the big hero, the one that will get the world together, and I can't even overcome my drinking problem. I'm stuck in the dark, with absolutely no idea where I am, and the last thing I can remember is chugging a 6-pack of beer all at the same time on a dare. An as if that isn't enough, I hear sirens.

The cops are coming now. They're coming for him. He knows it, the shadows know it, the whole damn world knows it! He broke quite a few rules in the past few days. He was smoking pot in front of the police station because he was too stoned to realize it. Now, as he looks around, he can't help but wonder where the past 4 days went.

I think I'm beginning to remember at least where I am. Well, not remember, exactly, but I can see a street sign that says "S. Park Ave" and that triggered something in my rattled brain to try and remember how I got here. I think there was something with a car chase...? Anyway, that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting away from the cops. That is, if they don't know exactly who it is that they're looking for. But you never know, I can do some pretty crazy **** sometimes when I'm blacked out. But oh well, it's been working out for me for the past year or so. By day, a weird looking store clerk, struggling to make ends meet and study for college. By night, a strange combination of drugs and alcohol, never the same, and always completely unpredictable. I'm kind of like the incredible Hulk, I never know where my strange alter-ego will leave me next.

He's running. Just running, anywhere, he doesn't care. As long as it's taking him away from the po-po's. He's had so many problems with them in the past, he's even got himself a regular judge. They're actually quite friendly. That judge will end up being one of his greatest assets in this quest of his.

It's all so confusing, what's going on in my head right now. I can barely even think about what I'm doing. I'm just going, going away from the shadows, away from the drugs, the sex, the alcohol, but they won't leave. They've invaded my mind, and I can't shake them loose. Strange, disjointed images and sounds, all bouncing around in my brain, and I don't think I can take it much longer, it's driving me crazy! I'm in a cold sweat. Raise my hands, to wipe my face, and there's dried blood on them. Oh my ****ing god, what the hell have I been doing!?

He's seen his hands. And once the cops catch him, he'll get it for sure. He's still trying to figure out what's going on, while stumbling away from the cops. But they're going to get him. It's inevitable, he can't win. Nobody can. But wait--

There's a gunshot, back where I just left. One of the shadows, I can see. He's got a gun, shooting it at the piggies, and they have to stop, he's hit a tire. But the cop's got reinforcements. They're coming. The other squad cars are behind him, now. But they can't get past him, he's swerved and blocked the road. But that won't stop them for long. I've got to keep moving.

The squad cars have piled up on the road. None of them are going anywhere, at least not until they can get out of the disaster scene that they've created. But then, suddenly, one of the cars is speeding out of the mess. He's coming closer, closer, and then... He's lost the boy. But not for long, as other cars are beginning to disentangle themselves as well. That boy, he has the upper hand right now, but he's a bit too confused to realize it.

The sirens are getting farther away. I've won! Now all I've got to do is find out where I am, so I can get home. So I try to read a street sign, but the streetlights are either dim or out in thes part of the city, and most of the signs have been either stolen or vandalized. This may prove to be a bit more difficult than I thought.

He's done for. The police have gotten most of their cars out, and they're searching. They've even got some guys on foot, with dogs. He's just too damn stumped to realize that he's about to have the second worst experience of his life.

The sirens are getting closer. I can hear them, hear them coming. I'm running and running, and as I run my head pounds even more, the sirens become increasingly louder, clearer, closer, I see the lights around the corner, and then...

[DannyBoy]

Well...That was very intresting. Littl short but intresting. Thats about all I can say. Keep it up!

[The Decapitated Mole]

Heh. Yes... Uh, thanks, I guess. Sorry it takes so long to get chapters up, but first I've got to write it, which takes a few days, then I have to copy it onto paper from my computer [handwritten], bring it downstairs, and retype it all here. It's a pain in the ***, but whatever.


Chapter Two

Guess what I just learned? In the past 4 days, I've killed 3 people, including a cop, injured about 140, resisted arrest roughly 37 times, and stole scores of cars, TVs, and other various items, and once they searched me, they cound at least three pounds of assorted drugs in my coat. This sucks.

The boy's in jail. He's going to court in a few hours, so he's wearing a suit. Like that'll help improve his image any. In order to make a stronger case for his permanent arrest, the cops did not allow him to wash himself. So he's lying on his cold, metal cot, covered in dirt, beer, oil, spit, blood, sweat, tears, and some other unmentionable bodily fluids, reeking of booze, filth, and some of the above mentioned substances, all under the cozy little exterior of his suit. The court has gathered at least 50 witnesses, who all saw him do the terrible, illegal actions that had caused his arrest. Things are not looking good for this boy.

I have to get rid of this suit. I don't even know where it came from, my public defender just handed it to me a few hours ago. My street clothes are piled up on the floor next to the toilet over there. Covered in the same odd combination of filth that I am, and smelling of it as well, but this suit is old, uncomfortable, and I think it's got moths. I know that it will just give those bastards out there a stronger case for my eternal imprisonment, but I need my clothes, if for nothing more than to defy that little weasil that was assigned my case. I think his name is Jackson, but whatever. He's all shifty and evil looking and I feel like stabbing the guy every time I see him, but that won't help me at all.

The kid's changing. The dumb bastard, he's essentially cutting off his nost to spite his face, but who'd tell him that? He's back to his normal self now, at least on the outside. But unfortunately, there is more, so much more to this boy than meets the eye. There's a dangerous side to him, an evil side, one that we must all hope never gets unleashed. For if it does, this slightly deranged child could one day smite us all.

What is wrong with my eye? It's all itchy and dry, and I can't stop it, no matter how much I try, what the hell is up with that? Now my other eye is all twitching, so my face looks kind of screwed up at the moment, and Im trying to control my rage at the video camera that won't take it's ****ing eyes off me, I need my privacy, and pretty soon that thing's gonna drive me over the edge...

And now it's time to go to the trial. He's being escorted into the courtroom, heavily guarded and everything. What a waste, now that he's not all drugged up, he's no threat to anyone. At least, not yet.

And so I have entered the courtroom, looking quite a bit like a serial killer on speed, or something close to it. What with my strangely twitching left eye, my independantly moving, slightly bulging red right eye, and my mouth, still curled up in the same snarling expression that I was giving the camera back in my cell, I'm surprised they don't just pass sentence right here. But I'm lucky, I guess. Yeah, right.

"Court is now in session."

So it has been spoken, so it shall be done. The trial has begun. It's proceeding fairly routinely, the boy has gotten his same normal judge, just as he usually does. There are more people than usual here, but that's just because of the 3 murders.

They've called their first witness. A woman, a fairly small woman, but still a damn sexy one. She's claiming that I raped her and beat her in front of her husband, and then killed him. I can explain all of it. I can tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, that there is not a man in this room that doesn't want to **** her. I just gave into my urges, which was wrong, but surely not all that bad. As for her husband, he was threatening me, with a rather large knife, so I had no choice but to tie him to a chair, for my own self-defence. As for the murder, well there's an easy one. He broke free, and came at me with not only a butcher knife, but two hot pokers as well. I did nothing that any other human being wouldn't have done, which was to turn the pokers around so that they went through his skull instead of mine. Once again, I was simply protection my own existence. I presented the court with this, along with my personal brand of unbeatable logic and reasoning, and I can tell that I have the jury in the palm of my hand.

He's doing it. This boy is actually convincing the jury that he is innocent. He's brilliant, there's no arguing with that. If you tried, he'd come at you with some of his impeccable logic, reasoning, and persuasion, and he'd have you convinced in less than three minutes.

This is the last witness. It's only the 6th out of many, many more, but I think the judge, and the jury, have both been pumped full of enough of my brilliance to realize the truth, and the judge decreeing that this be the final witness only proves my point. This trial is over. I'll be back to work on Friday, before three days of drinking, partying, and getting steamed, a trial on Monday, and then back to work on Tuesday or Wednesday.

The jury is deliboration. They'll be out soon, to tell the boy that he's innocent. That he's free. Free to go out and rampage the city once more. Free to go out and ruin the lives of countless others, to rape, to maim, to kill. But they can't see that now, and neither can he. All he can see is his desparate need to get out of there, and back to his apartment, and all they see is his expertly proven innocence. Neither of them can see the truth, that this boy must be taken and locked away, if not forever then longer. He's a menace. A menace that must be stopped at all costs.

[DannyBoy]

This guy is in deep ****! He is also a perv and picks his words randomly. I wonder if he will be in jail for a long time or not get into jail. THis is very intresting once again i say. COuld have been a little longer but its good. Keep it up!

[The Decapitated Mole]

Finally, a new chapter for this storyness is being posted here today! I would have got it up yesterday, but I "accidentally" kicked my computer over, so the floppy drive broke again, but after 2 or 3 hours of messin' with it today, it's almost as good as new, as long as you don't, um, touch it. Well, anyway, here's chapter 3, I guess.


Chapter Three

The jury is still deliberating. I can't believe it. They're usually out by now, this is the longest any jury's ever taken with me.3 hours in there and apparently they still haven't reached a verdict. Oh well. There's always one or two of them in the jury. One of the soul-sucking, mind-numbing, lemmings of the world. Not a certain group, race, or party, simply the humans, if you can call them that, who are too dense to realize anything but what they think, or what is drilled into their minds by their Governments of Televisions. It boggles the mind to think of just how incredibly stupid humanity can be. But I'll fix them. Don't you worry. I'll fix them...

They're coming out now. The jury. All dressed neatly, in new suits and dresses. And it appears that, once again, the boy has won. They're all smiling. All but one. A small, sweaty man in the corner, eyes darting from side to side, fidgeting around like a small child forced to sit still for a moment. And now... the moment of reckoning has arrived.

"The jury finds the defendant...Guilty."

Guilty. The word keeps echoing in my head, over and over, like some demented song, stuck in there, playing itself over and over again in the confines of my mind. They're taking me, leading me somewhere, but I don't care. Guilty...guilty...guilty......

"GUILTY!!!"

He's running. He broke free of the guards and now he's just running, again, as fast as he can, but his hands are handcuffed behind his back. He's stumbling, out of the courtroom, of the courthouse, out into the street. He's getting away. Into a cab, and the cabbie doesn't know, just thinks that his hands are folded back there or something. But he's leaving, pulling away. And the cops can't start their cars. Some punks ruined their engines, and the cars won't start. He's lucky. Again.

I can't believe it. Guilty. I am guilty. This is the first time that I've failed myself. Maybe this means something. Maybe I really do need to start turning my life around. ...Or maybe I just had an off day. But, for whatever the reasons, I'm now on the run. Again. Running from the police, in a foul-smelling taxi with some driver who can barely string two words together in English, and I've got to figure out some way to get these handcuffs off, and how to get out of paying for this when I get to wherever it is that I'm going.

The cops have finally gotten some cars together, cars that actually work. They're trying to follow the cab, trying to figure out where it went, but none of them was thinking enough to get the license number as it pulled away, and as it looks just like every other goddamn taxi in the city, there's almost no way they're going to be able to find him.

My mind is reeling. There's too much going on, and I'm still so stunned from what just happened, I can barely make out the cabbie's words... he's saying something in his broken English... asking me where I want to go... I mumble the location of something, somewhere, I don't care, I just want to go. Go away from all this, away from the police, from the courthouse, from everything. I want to start all over, and do things right. But I can't. So this will have to do.

The taxi is moving now, going towards its destination mindlessly, thoughtlessly, the driver thinking only of his money, the passenger trying to sort out what just happened, neither even remotely aware of the terrible fate awaiting them. The police are closing in on them, they've got a fix on the cab's location. Following it, as mindlessly as the cab itself is driving.

A bang. A loud bang, and suddenly the taxi is swerving, uncontrollably. I turn around, to see what's happened, and I see the cops. And I know. I understand now. My mind has finally started to work again, I'm beginning to comprehend what has just happened, and it is simple. I lost. Just that, and nothing more. I lost, I failed, I blanked, put it however you like, the fact still remains. I am just no longer so good as I thought myself to be. Or maybe I never was. Maybe I've been getting this far on pure luck. Maybe, just maybe, I am insane. It is entirely possible. I have done some pretty strange things, to both my body and mind, some of which could, in theory, drive a select few, weak-willed people to insanity. But all of that, that can wait, none of it is important now. We've crashed. Somehow the handcuffs have come off, and my hands are free. The cabbie is dead. So I guess I don't have to worry about paying.

He's out, and running again. The fool. As if he has a chance. He has no idea what is going on around him, no idea at all. Sure, he snapped out of it long enough to get out of that car, and sure, he's concious enough to run away, but he's lost in his own world. Thinking thoughts, too late, things he might have said, things he might have done, or might not have done. Now, and in times past. What he's looking at, what he's doing, he isn't concious of it for some time. Certainly not as he's doing it. He has no idea what he's doing. And the police have guns. They shot the tire of the taxi out, and they're perfectly willing to take him the same way as the tire. Out. Forever. And he may no longer roam the streets of society, no longer continue his pathetic attempts to get a decent education. Even if he survives this, there's no hope. Not now. Not ever.

Maube I should just give up. I mean, I'm tired of this. Tired of everything. Tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of this whole damn lifestyle I've been going on. None of this seems to matter anymore. Maybe they're right. Maybe one man can't make a difference. Maybe I won't go to hell if I die. Maybe hell doesn't exist. Maybe they'll shoot me if I stop. Maybe they won't. Maybe that cab driver is still alive. Maybe if I live I'll still have to pay for the ride. There's so much I'm not sure of, so much nobody's sure of, nobody can ever be sure of. So much I will never know. Maybe I'm done.

He's just standing there, in the middle of the street. The cops are closing in, and they have more on the way, and he's just standing there, with his arms spread wide like he's waiting for deliverance. And now, the first car pulls up. The cops get out, one of them is the one who shot out the tire of the taxi, the one who killed the driver. More cars are coming, now. One gives the order, to the taxi shooter specifically, to hold their fire. He doesn't listen.

The bullet pierces my chest, and I hear the gunshot, like, well, a gunshot in my ears. I look at the police officer holding the gun. There's malice in his eyes, hatred, and he's smiling. A cold, evil grin, one that I won't soon forget. And then I'm falling, and see nothing more.

Nothing more...


Done. Whaddaya think?

o_0
jimm