The Start of Ambition
Posted: Wed Jul 31, 2024 10:27 pm
What a goddamn shitshow.
((Matthew Bell continued from First Mover Advantage))
Matthew had figured that they would try to get into the press conference, which was why he’d made sure that there were a couple of people making sure they didn’t get in. He also figured they would be checking press cards and stuff, so Evie shouldn’t have able to get in, and he definitely figured a bunch of big strong motherfuckers should have been enough to stop two high schoolers from breaking in and throwing shit at him. If they’d had a gun or something - although this was Massachusetts so fat fucking chance - it coulda ended very poorly. Rizzolo had come to mind.
As it was, it had still kinda went tits up. It’d broken down into partisan lines, people with hammer and sickles in their name were arguing with American flags and eagles about who was right and who was wrong. Give it two weeks and Tucker Carlson would be arguing with AOC on Twitter about whether he was a mass murderer or not. It was Rittenhouse all over again. Maybe social media wasn’t a good barometer, but hey, it worked. He imagined the mainstream stuff would be a little bit more equal, but the MSNBC guy seemed pretty snarky.
He’d made sure that Evie, June and Marshall’s phone numbers and addresses had gotten to where they needed to be. A little bit of revenge. They wanted him to be scrutinized, well, they should get a little fucking taste of it too. He was sure that Evie would get plenty of attention for Chloe. And June with all her screeching didn't really endear herself, he'd already seen an edit of her face over that screaming feminist that all the anti-SJW types liked to make fun of.
It felt petty. Yet not enough. Like he just wanted to be holding his rifle with one of them in his sights, finger on the trigger.
Matthew sighed, lying back in bed with Gatta sitting firmly on his chest. She’d barely left him since he’d come home. His tossing and turning probably drove her away eventually, but as soon as he woke up and went downstairs to make breakfast she’d come out from her bed, mewing happily and rubbing up against him. He had orange hair all over his room but hey, a small price to pay.
Even with the calming presence of a little orange cat cleaning herself on his chest, he still felt frustrated. It should have went smoother and yet they completely fucked it.
But you know what?
Fuck ‘em.
Whole world was ahead of him. He could decide to forever remain on that island, always fretting and pissing himself about what comes next, shooting at shadows, hiding away and never truly getting over what had happened. Wouldn’t be much of a fucking life, but he was pretty sure that some of his fellow survivors would do just that. Maybe not the trio that had harassed him though, Matthew figured they’d always be a thorn in his side. Probably never get over it, buzzing like a little fly in his ear.
Depended on what he was going to do, really. The plan of becoming a Marine was still there, and that was the original plan. Join the Marines and they’d probably just end up leaving him alone. What power did a solitary Marine have, anyway? They gonna try and get him booted out because a couple of their buddies got shot? It’d just make them look petty but hell, they were petty little bastards anyway. Hell, he could argue that it’d given him experience in survival, but that probably wasn't a good argument.
He’d be happy to sign up. It had always been a dream to serve his country, but with all the power and influence and the eyes on him he had, it kinda felt like a waste of all that to just go into the Marines. After the fucking shitshow that this afternoon had been Matthew didn’t really know how much of any of that he had, but it was a lot more than the average guy on the street did. Maybe he could try a breakout into politics. The ATs were dead and buried, but they probably wouldn’t be the last to try and abduct a bus full of kids given how easy it apparently fucking was. There was a lot more that could be done. People talked shit about Canon's military escorts, and that was a waste of military resources, but in theory the idea was solid. Armed guards on the busses or something. Might work better.
But that was for later thinking, when he wasn’t all tired out. For now, Matthew gazed out of his window at the suburban streets of Salem, lit up by streetlights and homes, and a neon Santa on a roof that someone hadn’t taken down yet. It had been a shitty Christmas, ruined by death and rehab and Tracen fucking Danya, so it was nice to see the jolly old guy. Still, it was just one Christmas. The best was yet to come. He’d celebrate the next five, ten, twenty in spite of the ATs and everything they'd done as his final fuck you to them.
“Mraow.” Gatta meowed, annoyed that she wasn’t getting any attention, so Matthew turned away from the outside and towards his lovely kitty, giving her some scritches under the chin to content purring.
It was the small stuff that mattered. The little things. While they were over to celebrate his return, his grandparents had invited him to stay with them in Okinawa for a little bit over the summer - or whenever really. He still didn’t know what was gonna happen with school. Maybe they’d get shunted into another school. Maybe they’d just get handed GEDs and be done with it.
Either way, it’d been so long since he’d seen Okinawa’s clear waters and blue sky. The beaches. He was basically a little kid, so far from who he was now. It’d be nice to go back. He was sick and tired of the fucking snow and wet and cold, so the sum and warmth was very inviting.
Matthew yawned, and reached to turn off his bedside lamp.
"Night, Gatta."
Click.
((It was dark now. But the future was pretty damn bright.))
((Matthew Bell continued from First Mover Advantage))
Matthew had figured that they would try to get into the press conference, which was why he’d made sure that there were a couple of people making sure they didn’t get in. He also figured they would be checking press cards and stuff, so Evie shouldn’t have able to get in, and he definitely figured a bunch of big strong motherfuckers should have been enough to stop two high schoolers from breaking in and throwing shit at him. If they’d had a gun or something - although this was Massachusetts so fat fucking chance - it coulda ended very poorly. Rizzolo had come to mind.
As it was, it had still kinda went tits up. It’d broken down into partisan lines, people with hammer and sickles in their name were arguing with American flags and eagles about who was right and who was wrong. Give it two weeks and Tucker Carlson would be arguing with AOC on Twitter about whether he was a mass murderer or not. It was Rittenhouse all over again. Maybe social media wasn’t a good barometer, but hey, it worked. He imagined the mainstream stuff would be a little bit more equal, but the MSNBC guy seemed pretty snarky.
He’d made sure that Evie, June and Marshall’s phone numbers and addresses had gotten to where they needed to be. A little bit of revenge. They wanted him to be scrutinized, well, they should get a little fucking taste of it too. He was sure that Evie would get plenty of attention for Chloe. And June with all her screeching didn't really endear herself, he'd already seen an edit of her face over that screaming feminist that all the anti-SJW types liked to make fun of.
It felt petty. Yet not enough. Like he just wanted to be holding his rifle with one of them in his sights, finger on the trigger.
Matthew sighed, lying back in bed with Gatta sitting firmly on his chest. She’d barely left him since he’d come home. His tossing and turning probably drove her away eventually, but as soon as he woke up and went downstairs to make breakfast she’d come out from her bed, mewing happily and rubbing up against him. He had orange hair all over his room but hey, a small price to pay.
Even with the calming presence of a little orange cat cleaning herself on his chest, he still felt frustrated. It should have went smoother and yet they completely fucked it.
But you know what?
Fuck ‘em.
Whole world was ahead of him. He could decide to forever remain on that island, always fretting and pissing himself about what comes next, shooting at shadows, hiding away and never truly getting over what had happened. Wouldn’t be much of a fucking life, but he was pretty sure that some of his fellow survivors would do just that. Maybe not the trio that had harassed him though, Matthew figured they’d always be a thorn in his side. Probably never get over it, buzzing like a little fly in his ear.
Depended on what he was going to do, really. The plan of becoming a Marine was still there, and that was the original plan. Join the Marines and they’d probably just end up leaving him alone. What power did a solitary Marine have, anyway? They gonna try and get him booted out because a couple of their buddies got shot? It’d just make them look petty but hell, they were petty little bastards anyway. Hell, he could argue that it’d given him experience in survival, but that probably wasn't a good argument.
He’d be happy to sign up. It had always been a dream to serve his country, but with all the power and influence and the eyes on him he had, it kinda felt like a waste of all that to just go into the Marines. After the fucking shitshow that this afternoon had been Matthew didn’t really know how much of any of that he had, but it was a lot more than the average guy on the street did. Maybe he could try a breakout into politics. The ATs were dead and buried, but they probably wouldn’t be the last to try and abduct a bus full of kids given how easy it apparently fucking was. There was a lot more that could be done. People talked shit about Canon's military escorts, and that was a waste of military resources, but in theory the idea was solid. Armed guards on the busses or something. Might work better.
But that was for later thinking, when he wasn’t all tired out. For now, Matthew gazed out of his window at the suburban streets of Salem, lit up by streetlights and homes, and a neon Santa on a roof that someone hadn’t taken down yet. It had been a shitty Christmas, ruined by death and rehab and Tracen fucking Danya, so it was nice to see the jolly old guy. Still, it was just one Christmas. The best was yet to come. He’d celebrate the next five, ten, twenty in spite of the ATs and everything they'd done as his final fuck you to them.
“Mraow.” Gatta meowed, annoyed that she wasn’t getting any attention, so Matthew turned away from the outside and towards his lovely kitty, giving her some scritches under the chin to content purring.
It was the small stuff that mattered. The little things. While they were over to celebrate his return, his grandparents had invited him to stay with them in Okinawa for a little bit over the summer - or whenever really. He still didn’t know what was gonna happen with school. Maybe they’d get shunted into another school. Maybe they’d just get handed GEDs and be done with it.
Either way, it’d been so long since he’d seen Okinawa’s clear waters and blue sky. The beaches. He was basically a little kid, so far from who he was now. It’d be nice to go back. He was sick and tired of the fucking snow and wet and cold, so the sum and warmth was very inviting.
Matthew yawned, and reached to turn off his bedside lamp.
"Night, Gatta."
Click.
((It was dark now. But the future was pretty damn bright.))