Interview with a rager

The security officer unlocked and opened the heavy door to the isolation cell. Inside there was a person, curled up on in the corner on the far side. There was nothing else in the room, no chair, no bed, no toilet.

“Get up you dammed heathen, Mrs. Carson is here to talk at you,” the guard barked, walking over and using the end of his nightstick to punch the prisoner in the kidney. When he didn’t move, the guard drew the baton back to deliver a full power blow. He turned his head when he was prevented from completing the swing.

“Why is the he naked?” Mrs. Carson asked, her voice chilled enough to drop the cell’s temperature by several degrees. She pushed the hand holding the club away from her.

“It’s a rager, ma’am. Don’t want to give it anything to hurt us with.”

“Where are his clothes?”

“They’re being held in evidence, ma’am,” the guard replied evenly.

“And you didn’t think to get him some coveralls, or trustee scrubs?”

The guard didn’t have a reply. Carson’s glare was hard enough that he slinked away and return with a set of one size fits most scrubs. She took the scrubs and grabbed the officer’s radio microphone.

“Desk Sargent, this is Mrs. Carson, come back to the isolation cell, now.”

“Right away, ma’am,” came the reply through the radio.

It took the Desk Sargent less than a minute to arrive.

“Yes, Ma’am?” the Sargent asked from outside the cell door.

“I’m terminating Mr. Carstairs,” she said nodding at the security officer next to her. “He is to be off campus in the next ten minutes. Nothing goes with him that is not his, not his uniform, not his shoes. His locker will be cleaned out by us, searched and the remains shipped to him.”

The Sargent looked shocked by the order. Never, since he’d been at Whaley had any of his men been summarily fired.

“Well?” Carson asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” The senior officer grabbed the guard by the arm and dragged him away.

Turning her back on the departing men, Mrs. Carson was not surprised to see that the prisoner had turn over and was watching them from his position in the corner.

“Mr. Doe, please put these on. I’ll be back in a few minutes so we can talk.”

She dropped the clothing next to the student and walked out, leaving the cell door open.

The boy laid there for a moment, then slowly got up and put the scrubs on. He stood at the cell door and waited. A security officer came by and escorted him to an interrogation room where Mrs. Carson was waiting.

Doe stood just inside the door were the officer left him.

“Please sit John.”

The student said nothing but sat in the only other chair in the room.

Mrs. Carson flipped through the file in front of her, then closed it.

“Solange is in Doyle with very severe injuries.

“Will she survive?”

“Probably.”

“Too bad,” John said. “I’ll have to finish the job later.”

“That sounds like a threat, Mr. Doe.”

“No, ma’am,” the student said evenly. “It’s the inevitable outcome of her being a classless, vindictive bitch.”

“Do you want to tell me what started this incident. I’ve seen the security department report, and the injury report from Doyle. I would like to hear your side of it.”

“If you have all that, there’s nothing more to say,” John said turning his hands up and shrugging. “My word is nothing against the mighty and hallowed Alphas and the impeccable, completely unbiased reporting of the third shift of Keystone Kops.” The sarcasm fairly dripped.

Mrs. Carson heard the steely steadiness in his voice, but the eyes gave away that there was more to this than a pair of exemplars getting into a fight.

“Humor me, then,” Mrs. Carson said.

“I was in my room. Tansy and some of her friends broke the lock on the door, came in with their cell phone cameras recording while I was…”

“Was what?”

“En femme,” John replied quietly. “She threatened to post the video on the school’s website. I got angry. She ran, I caught her and stopped her.”

“You destroyed her cell phone, and several others I understand, broke her nose, bones in her face, broken ribs, deep contusions, not to mention a broken arm, and separated shoulder. And then there is the structural damage to Poe itself.”

“She deserved it, and more.”

“Deserved it?”

“For two years, two fecking years, she and her pissant flunkies have been after me. Stupid bullying, putdowns, insults, spreading false rumors. All the cra… junk that goes on in any high school. She took it too far. Trying to get inside my head with her powers, getting others to do the same. I have tried to take the high road, Mrs. Carson. I’ve walked away, let them have their stupid little kiddy victories, and haven’t retaliated once against them.”

“But tonight… tonight was the last straw. She’s not supposed to be in Poe. They broke into my room, MY ROOM!” he slammed his hand down on the metal table, leaving a clear impression of his palm and fingers. The door opened slightly, but Mrs. Carson shook her head and the guards withdrew. “The one place where I’m supposed to be safe, away from people like her. The only place I can be, myself, and she just waltzed in like she owned the place.”

“What do you think you gained?”

“By putting her in Doyle? A measure of peace, maybe.” John Doe sighed. “Maybe the others will decide the cost of a few giggles is too high. Maybe some of the other haters will go quiet for a while, but that would be too much to ask.”

“Other haters?”

“Yeah, haters, the Alphas, the Bad Seeds, the spandex brigade, the Amazons, and the others. All the little niche hater groups, well, except for the Alphas, they hate everyone that isn’t an Alpha.”

“And why do you think the others are hate groups?”

John ticked his fingers, “Bad Seeds, if you’re not a villain, you’re a good guy, therefore, an enemy. Since they’re criminals, they don’t respect the law, even Whatley laws, so they’re going to take you out before you become a threat.” He ticked his next finger. “The Capes, according to them, if you’re not with them, you’re going to be a criminal mastermind. Mostly they’re creepy, wannabe mall ninjas, but a couple of really get off on battering students.”

“Have you listened to the Amazons? Male to female gender changes are “fake girls” and female to male gender swaps are traitors to the female race. Doesn’t matter if you wanted the change or not. If you’re a natural male, you’re less than human and need to be squashed like a bug. Everyone they hate becomes a target for whatever their sick, twisted, psychopathic little minds can come up with. Everyone in Poe is in real danger from them. They haven’t tried anything with me, but it’s only a matter of time.”

John stopped talking, figuring he’d said more than enough to the Headmistress.

“I could expel you for this, file charges, turn you over the MCO.”

“You could,” John said looking at the woman evenly. “You could do something else, as well.”

He arrived early at Crystal Hall for breakfast. With his tray piled high with the usual morning plates of pancakes, sausages, eggs, and a tall juice, he found an out of the way table that hadn’t been claimed by a training team, and sat down. He purposely sat with his back to the rest of the cafeteria floor. He was nearly done with the four stack of pancakes when he heard them walk up the ramp to the half floor where he sat. There were four of them with Wyatt in the lead.

John ignored them, continuing to eat his breakfast. He’d let Wyatt or one of his flunkies make the first move.

“Did you really think there wouldn’t be consequences?” Wyatt said, loudly.

John wiped his mouth with a napkin, wadded it up and dropped in on the empty plate. He stood up slowly, turned and faced the four.

“You should ask Tansy that same question,” John replied. “Didn’t she think that breaking into my room wouldn’t have consequences? It probably never entered her tiny little mind that someone would take exception and dish out some long overdue retribution.” He squared up with Wyatt, a dozen feet between them.

“Is this what you want Wyatt? A fucking super fight in the middle of breakfast? Why? So you can stand over my lifeless body and roar your victory? Is that your fantasy? Just like every other testosterone poisoned Cro-Magnon on this campus. And so very pathetic.”

John turned and picked up his tray of dirty dishes and started walking down the ramp to the main floor of the Hall. He stopped when he drew even with the group.

“Let it drop, and it all ends here,” he said.

“If I don’t?”

“You’ll want to talk to Mrs. Carson or Security about the consequences of provoking a rager.” John took a step, and stopped. “A gift for you, Kodiak. I have nothing to lose. Can you say the same?”

John continued down the ramp, pushed his tray through the return window, and left for his morning classes.