Since some people seem to wish that Gary had won the fight, I thought I'd write this. I also figured it would be a good chance to give an ignored character some time in the spotlight, and thus I ended up writing this. For anyone who had this on alert, I'm really sorry it took so long for me to continue this.
Disclaimer: Not my chem lab, I just like to blow stuff up in here.
Chapter 1: Gary
The idiot had gone too far with his pathetic little game, and now there would only be one winner- me. Apparently, no one had informed Jimmy of this. Even now, as the other kids massacred each other on my command, as their hatred dyed the sky black, Jimmy Hopkins was in front of me, fumbling futily at aiming a decent punch. That pathetic hobo hadn't done a very good job with him; I could dodge his punches in a blink, duck away from his hand instantly, hit back before thinking of it. And I did. I punched. I kicked. I swore. I gloated at the sight of my smaller prizes, the pain dripping down his chin, the determination seeping from his piggy eyes, the squeals and grunts like a slaughtered animal when my fist smashed into his nose. Droplets of strawberry blood- his, of course- clattered down to the cold stone, breaking into more droplets on impact. In that moment, I knew. One more hit, and the world was mine.
Never hesitating, I placed my hands on his chest and I shoved, barely tired by his almost comical attempts at retaliation. Amazingly, his brain cell managed to piece together what was going on in time to let out a strangled shriek like the flies used to as their wings burnt away. Would his whores have liked him so much if they'd heard that noise? His pathetic face was flickered with fright in the lightning as he fell backwards, his eyes like a mouse impaled on feline claws. As I'd hoped, he tottered back, trying in vain to gain grip of something, but failing, blundering through the study ceiling with a thud, barely missing a semi -conscious Crabblesnitch. Tying him up two days before was so easy- no wonder nobody took him seriously. Grabbing the waste of genetics by the wrists, I proceeded to drag him from the room, expecting to feel a fast flood of blood below his skin. You may not know this, but that's your pulse. You know, that thing they check to make sure you're alive on those dumb TV shows? There wasn't one. Jimmy Hopkins would not bother me again.
Shit. This would mean expulsion. This could mean prison. This would mean powerlessness. This meant I was a murderer. The room spun from excitement.
"No, Gary," I reassured myself, observing the old man, still tied to the chair. Only morons went to prison. Men who got caught. Not me. I went to the grand desk, tugging at the drawers to discover various luxuries from the rich kids' daddies; cigars, fine brandies, a loaded revolver...
Instantly, I had a plan. I grabbed a bottle of the brandy and wandered over to the headmaster , bending slightly to acheive eye contact .
"You look bad, Dr Crabblesnitch," I observed with false concern."This might make you feel better." The old fool had been tied for a day at least without sleep or food, so he didn't need much persuading to gulp down liquid stupidity. Other students might have taken advantage, but not Gary Smith. Not the Head Boy. The second bottle went down even easier, the third effortlessly.
Very soon, the familiar signs of intoxication came into view within an hour; the bloodshot eyes, the giggling, the slurred speeches of "school spirit". Satisfied that he would remember nothing later, I checked the revolver; it was clean, polished to a shine, loaded. Crabblesnitch made it almost too easy for me to enjoy securing my reign on the school. I walked back to the old man, drinking in the head hung down, mouth slightly open due to the full effect of the alcohol. Smiling, I guided his hands onto the weapon, my finger shoving his onto the trigger once I'd aimed it at the corpse. Even dead, he looked so dumb; limp, dull skinned, nicks in his head from another fight he couldn't win, a gash dripping down his forehead like celebratory wine.
Bang. The hole widened, staining the carpet at an amazing rate.
Once I'd wiped the gun, I gently wove Crabblesnitch's finger back around it, knowing he'd be gone by the morning. Finally, taking one last look about the room, I picked up the phone and stabbed in the digits. After what seemed like decades, a female droned "Nine one one. What is the nature of you emergency?" I'd always been a good actor- Cornelius and his cross-dressing Juliet had nohing on me in that moment.
"Ambulance and Police, please hurry. I'm at Bullworth Academy- something horrid has happened. Dr. Crabblesnitch just killed a boy." I whimpered, smiling in the knowledge I was almost off the hook. The fake tears deserved an oscar.
"Really? Woah. Calm down, kid, someone'll be over soon." The line clicked dead.
Crabblesnitch wouldn't be coming back, so there was the final piece of shit wiped up. Smiling, I strolled over to the door, elevated by victory the way my meds could never make me feel. Rest in Peace, Jimmy!