Chapter 1 of my first fanfic ever. Inspired by Scott Pilgrim, only substantially darker. Hope you like.
Files upon files were stacked on the crammed little desk, to the point where some of them were in danger of spilling their contents over the floor. The figure gave a little huff as they sorted through the mess.
"Ugh…" Fingers encased in black leather grasped one file at the top of the stack.
It was different than the others, with a little sticker on the front. With a sigh, the lone agent flitted through the papers within… hold on there. This actually might be interesting… They tilted back in their chair. As they scrolled down the page, a familiar name caught attention. All of a sudden, a wide, almost eerily cheerful grin broke out. Idea upon idea began to stack and light up behind dark eyes.
"Huh." The chair swiveled about to face a darkened window. "Now what am I supposed to do with you?"
TEENS NEXT DOOR
(I can't be as clever as Mr., Warburton with these anagrams. You wouldn't believe the embarrassing amount of time it took me to come up with this one).
Rachel McKenzie did not live what most would call a simple life. She was organized and direct, yet for all her strategy, preparation and management, there was no guarantee things would ever go as planned. Even after specifically designing and sketching out her morning schedule straight down to the seconds it would take to drive to class, there was no way to control or foresee what would happen on the way there. Uncertainty was one of the things she found the most infuriating. Slow service was another.
There was a time when Rachel thought of coffee as the most horrid substance on the earth, a fuel to the flames of evil and corruption. But those times must have passed a long time ago, as she was now standing near the front of the line in a small street-side café, her very core aching to be filled with caffeine. She could hear the sounds of cold wind whistling against the walls, frost and fog creeping over the glass windows. Rachel did not intend to face the West Virginia winter alone, not without that little paper cup of heat in her hands (1). Unfortunately, she'd been having some trouble transferring that over to the woman behind the counter, who was still tallying up change for the guy at the front. She could feel the glares burning into the back of her head as her foot tapping grew steadily louder but Rachel pretended not to notice. By the time the boy finally left (Rachel enviously eyeing the waft of steam billowing from his beverage), another good minute had ticked by. If this didn't hurry up, she'd be in danger of leaving the allotted five minutes she'd set aside for this little run.
"I'll have one cappuccino, please." Rachel said, already pulling out her purse before she even was at the counter.
Standard, simple, probably would be asked for a hundred of them before the morning was out. But instead of immediately jumping to accommodate the morning rush, the cashier just looked at her with tired, perpetually bored gaze. Rachel felt her left eye tick slightly. What right did the woman have to be tired? She worked in a cafe! Rachel had half a mind to tell the twenty-whatever employee to munch on a coffee bean and get cracking, but something inside reminded her that patience was something she was well practiced in. At least in theory.
"Will that be to go?" The woman droned, typing a few keys on the register.
"Yes." Rachel replied dully, drawing out the 's' in her irritation.
See, in her mind, the world was like a clock. Everything had a purpose, a course, and contributed to the great machine when running smoothly. So really, this woman should be doing her job with diligence and enthusiasm because well, it was her job! It was what she got up in the morning to do, after all. Why did something so simple have to be complicated? Another few minutes ticked by on the ornamental clock above Rachel's head, each second bringing her farther from her schedule, taunting her.
'It's not a big deal.' Rachel thought to herself as the world around her seemingly moved in slow motion. 'I'll just… make up for it on the way to school. And if not, well, so what if it's my first time being late, it's not a big dea-'
"One cappuccino will be-" When the girl at last placed the cup before her on the counter, Rachel had already slapped the exact change down and been gone with her drink before the sentence was even finished.
Snow whirled all around her, but Rachel wasn't going to be bothered by that, her boots trudging up to her car door.
'I can make it! I can make it! I CAN MAKE IT!' Rachel thought furiously, almost insanely to herself, not even taking the time to sip her generic coffee beverage as she clambered into her seat.
It may not have been the most original choice, but at least she wasn't like Patton. He drank his coffee black and at magma-like temperature, perhaps in an attempt to prove what a manly man he was to not need insignificant things like sugar, cream and functional taste buds.
The engine was already running, so all she had to do was…
"What?" Rachel blinked at the angry rumbling emitted by her precious Corvette. "Seriously?"
But it was no use- despite the strain of the engine, her tires squealed uselessly against the snowy curb. The streets themselves were clear, but the genius plowman must have shoved all the built-up snow to the sides while Rachel was in the café, choking her tires. Rachel was just about to do a shout of anguish that'd put Darth Vader to shame when a stream of classical music erupted from her cell phone on the passenger seat. Teeth grinding, Rachel flipped open the phone.
"I'm a little busy, Fanny."
"Well, ex-cuse me. You seem on edge. Something happen this morning to piss you off or what?"
"Only the zombie working in the café and my Corvette being stuck in the snow bank." Rachel deadpanned, resting her chin on the steering wheel.
"Well, duh. Everyone knows you don't drive a Corvette in the winter."
"Pardon me for not knowing cars were interchangeable with the seasons!" Rachel snapped.
Sometimes she did envy Fanny's ridiculous wealth.
"Where are you headed, anyway? Isn't your school canceled?"
"My private school is notorious for never giving snow days. I've got class in fifteen minutes, and my damn car won't-" Suddenly there was a rapping on the glass of her passenger side window. "Hold on."
Rachel squinted, but a layer of flurries had coated the entire vehicle, affectively obscuring her view.
"Look Rachel, I dunno if driving out there in this weather with that car is a good idea, plus we-"
"You look. Even with the hellscape that is my life, I've never been late for class, ever, not since starting high school."
Knock- knock. There it was again.
"I'll call you back later Fanny, with my luck I'm probably blocking someone's car or something."
"Rachel wait, there's-" She tossed the phone back into the seat behind her, grudgingly opening her door and bracing herself for the blustery road.
Rachel looked over the top of the car and saw a boy standing on the sidewalk, a cup of coffee clutched in his hands. She recognized him immediately as the guy who was in front of her in line by his parka. The hood was down, allowing Rachel to get a look at his dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. He seemed about her age, maybe older. Seventeen, maybe? She didn't recognize him.
"Hey. Something I can help you with?" Rachel asked, using her arm to sweep the snow off her roof.
"You're the McKenzie girl, right? Rachel McKenzie?"
"That's me." She did her best to sound casual, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Who wants to know?"
The boy laughed lightly, breaking eye contact to idly watch the falling snow. "You don't know me personally, but you might remember that a few of us approached you about three years ago."
Rachel paused a moment in the dusting of her car before shrugging. "My memory's a bit hazy around that time, sorry. Is there something you need? I'm running late."
"Right. Well, the thing is, we gave you an offer the last time we met, and you turned us down."
"You don't say."
"I do say. We tried a few more times, but you kept saying no. It wasn't something we thought of as strange at the time, I mean, we'd heard some stuff about you before and figured you were done with the fast life."
"'At the time?'" Rachel repeated. "Are you part of that gang? I told the seniors that came up to me last time, any club that requires me to wear my bra outside my shirt's either a few fries short of a Happy Meal or are into some weird kink. If you're here to ask me to change my mind, answer's no."
"We figured you'd say that." The boy said, his grin not wavering.
"So why are you here?"
He took a gulp of his coffee, exhaling an extra burst of steam as he resurfaced.
"You ever hear of a group called the 'TND?'"
Rachel felt a chill ripple through her that this time, had nothing to do with the weather. But with a short beat she kept her voice even and didn't hesitate.
"The thing is, we've been getting some suspicions lately that it actually exists. And we figure that if it is real, then you're definitely in it."
"And why do you say that?" Rachel sighed, her voice a mixture of impatience and boredom.
"If you really don't know, then there's no need to worry about it. And if you do know, then I don't need to tell you. We just need to ask you a couple questions."
"Clever. All right guy, I don't know who you are or what you've been smoking this morning, but I've got reality waiting for me. Play make-believe with someone who's got the time and the patience."
Rachel sidled back into her seat, but before she could shut the door she heard his voice calling out to her again.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Rachel groaned, loud enough for him to hear. "Oh really? And why, pray tell?"
"We're not taking no for an answer this time. It's in your best interest to get in the van."
Van? She leaned out of her car far enough to see the vehicle parked behind her. It was large, and old-fashioned; the sort of used car from the sixties a teen without wealthy parents would be forced to purchase. It would almost be amusing to look at, if it didn't have a ridiculously gigantic, bright orange plow attached to the front. Oh, and on the plow? Spiked, metallic teeth, clearly showcasing that it wasn't just for cutting through the snow. And as Rachel watched, a trio of bikes equipped with black armor paddled forward, assisting in blocking off the road.
"I don't know what's going on here, but if you think I'm going anywhere with you freaks, forget it!" Rachel slammed the car door with enough force to definitively end the conversation, and swiped the fog from her windshield. "Okay, dramatic statement complete, now please…!"
She revved the engine, and for a sickening moment there was only the sound of her tires pathetically fighting the new layer of fluff. She could hear the unconcealed snickering behind her, and her fingers twitched to the red button by the radio. But then, like a miracle, the blue car rolled over the blanket of snow, and nosed into the street.
"YES!" Rachel shouted happily, practically dancing in her seat as she switched gears and stepped on the gas.
The Corvette lurched forward, carting down the road faster than Rachel expected. She could feel the tires slipping every so often on the ice- even though the street was freshly plowed, snow was falling even heavier than before, dotting the black pavement. But there was no time to worry about that- she could hear the rumbling and whistling of the engines in pursuit as she half-drove, half-skidded through at least three stoplights. Even in this weather, the streets were mostly cleared and she was driving a sports car- the van quickly fell behind. Just when Rachel began to consider taking one hand off the wheel to strap her seatbelt, droplets of water were dribbling down the windows. She hastily craned her neck and glanced up. Two teenagers dressed in black attire blazed alongside her, the heat from their jet packs melting the remaining snow that had been clinging to the vehicle.
Rachel cringed as the sound of two someones landing on the roof shook the car.
Right, because a car that obviously is being pushed around the street by the wind is the perfect spot for a landing! She plunged into a tunnel and swung to the side, attempting to shake them now that the road was drier and she had more control. But among the flashing chain of yellow lights she drove past, Rachel could see the blasts of red energy flitting all around her. Wads of gum sprayed the ground, tripping up her tires.
"Ugh!" Rachel maneuvered around the mounds of chewing gum, eventually escaping the tunnel and charging back into the windy streets.
Gritting her teeth, she could hear the ninjas clambering for a tighter grip, no doubt preparing to reach for a weapon. With a hand on the dashboard of her beloved sweet-sixteen birthday gift, Rachel pressed harder on the gas pedal. A sign warning about the entrance of a school zone flitted past, followed by a large, bright yellow-painted speed bump.
In reality, Rachel knew the car must've only jumped maybe two feet, but when the vehicle left the pavement there was a sick sensation on weightlessness in her stomach that made it feel like at least five more. The tires screeched and the tail end collided with the road with a jerky thud, but the satisfying sound of a body toppling off the car made her feel pretty good anyways. One had managed to still hold on, but he was obviously shaken and hanging by his nails. If she could just make it to the school… Rachel could see the large private high school in her peripheral vision, steadily coming closer. It was then that her eye caught sight of the blinking clock over her head. 7:56.
"I might actually be on time!" Rachel said to herself, almost awestruck by the revelation.
She was jarred back to the present when a flash of red light shot past, and knew the bikes were still on her tail. By now snow had actually begun to build on the road, and navigation was becoming more difficult. At normal speeds it'd be doable, but Rachel had three teen bikes gaining on her and she'd rather skid off the road than let them take her to wherever they had in mind. The school was before her, but just as her heart began to soar with hope, the sound and sight of a speeding van made it into her senses. The old sixties van with the murderous-looking plow was pummeling above an intersecting street, hovering and powered forward by a large van on the base and dual set of rockets in the back. They must've taken an alternate route towards the beginning of the chase! Rachel cursed herself for not guessing it was equipped with additional 2x4 tech- as if they'd actually make away with her in a normal van, even one that had a monster plow. With a lurch and a rush of adrenaline, Rachel swerved to dodge the van's attempts at cutting her off.
And this is why Rachel McKenzie's life is not simple. The universe hated her.
The Corvette plummeted straight into a patch of black ice, and Rachel completely lost control of the car. Some people say that in an accident, everything slows down and feels like it's going in slow motion. Well, it doesn't. Rachel felt every revolution of the Corvette, aware that each millisecond they spiraled closer to god-knows-what, and the speed of it all made her nauseous. It was at this point that, with difficulty, Rachel forced the door open against the turbulence, launching herself out. Her shoulder hit the road first, but though pain shot it's way through her arm she still managed to pull off a smooth tumble (or at least as smooth as you can get in this situation). She rolled with decent form, but the speed and wildness of it all made it impossible to tell where she was going until she fell right off the road and into a snowy rut.
While those are the words Rachel would have used to describe the sound that followed, there was no vocabulary that could do it justice- The screech of skidding tire and crumpling metal, glass shattering in the explosion of impact and the wave of heat that washed over the whole area. Rachel ducked her head down in the rut, shock and adrenaline numbing the pain of her shoulder. Her leggings snagged against the sharper parts of the chain link fence that divided the street from the soccer field, but she stumbled up anyway to peer at the wreckage. Flames licked off the remains of the two vehicles, and a few teens lay unconscious or coughing outside the destroyed van. Her Corvette looked done for, windshield smashed and half the car crumpled like tin. And yet, a faint sweet aroma tinted the air beneath the gasoline and smoke… and then Rachel saw it. The bubbling, drying substance splattered on the inside of the windshield.
"I didn't even get to drink that damn coffee." Rachel muttered darkly, turning around to see the three bikes toppled over.
Two had skidded to a stop and tumbled in their haste to fall short of the collision site, their riders lying dizzily the road. The third biker had managed to help evacuate the destroyed van. Rachel couldn't find any casualties from where she was standing, but in truth she didn't care. She admitted that the years had hardened her and turned any mercy she may have had in her heart cold, but it wasn't something that bothered her. This was just the way things worked- sometimes people died. While most were oblivious to this battle, there were those who knew. There were those on the Inside, and those on the Outside. Teachers knew, but they mostly kept quiet and stayed out of the way. Parents sometimes knew. Most kids and politicians knew, and maybe a third of the world's teens. Everyone else was oblivious. It was a world within a world. And this was the world Rachel lived in, the world on the "Inside" where the youth ran wild, the adults were insane, and everyone was armed, trying to make sense of it all. But as few people as there were on the Inside, even fewer were in on the big secret.
"Until now, apparently." Rachel sighed, looking over the blazing spectacle of the crash. "How are we going to cover up this one?"
Rachel cringed and grimaced slightly before turning to the breathless, red-faced vice principle, who was standing on the snowy front steps of the school.
"Do you realize how serious this is! ?" Her father ranted, his voice reverberating through the parlor. "It's a miracle you didn't kill yourself!"
"I lost control on the ice." Rachel said quietly, sitting on the sofa.
Her father had been called immediately, and showed up not long after the cops and the fire department did. It didn't take long for everyone to get their stories straight- the Ninjas and her may have had a mutual hatred blazing in their eyes, but when it came situations like this they made it work so that both could come out looking as innocent as possible in the eyes of those on the 'Outside.' A tow truck, a few examinations from the paramedics and an pack of ice later, they were home.
"Corvettes aren't very good on the snow, I guess." She murmured bitterly.
"What were you doing going at those speeds in a school zone at all! ?"
"Dad, I'm sorry about the car, I-"
"The car? I don't give damn about the car!" Mr. McKenzie bellowed before composing himself slightly. "I think… I'm done with this, Rachel."
"Done with what?" Rachel's brow furrowed slightly. "I've been in one crash!"
"I'm not talking about the crash." Her father sat in the couch across from her, on the other side of the coffee table. "I'm talking about you. The secrets, the lies, the sneaking out, I hardly ever know where you are and now this? I held back because I know you're a good kid, and I thought you'd grow out of it like Harvey did, but I've obviously waited too long to talk to you about this."
"What are you talking about?" Rachel sat up straight, genuinely alarmed now. "I am a good kid! I've always done everything you've ever told me to! I get straight A's, I take care of Harvey-"
"I'm not stupid or blind just because I'm old, Rachel." Her dad stopped her with his cold tone, his brown eyes devoid of their usual spark. "And even though I don't know what it is you've gotten yourself into, I know that this path you're on is not good for you!"
"Maybe not, but when something is done for the good of others, isn't that more important! ?" Rachel demanded, dropping all pretense before she could stop herself.
Her father was slightly taken aback by her statement, but he shook his head. "Not at the cost of my daughter's life."
"Well, it is my life."
"You're my daughter, and you're still a child."
"No, I'm not!" Rachel stood up angrily.
"LOOK at me!" She didn't realize how loud her voice was at this point, and how she was probably scaring the help, but even if she had she wouldn't have cared. "Just… look at me. I haven't been a child for a long time and you know it. And I can't tell you what I'm a part of, but you have to trust me. This is just… how my life is."
Mr. McKenzie looked at her solemnly. "This is my fault, isn't it?"
She blinked. "What? No, of course not!"
"Yes, it is. This is because of what I said to you."
Rachel numbly sank back into the couch, the words drifting back to her.
"Horrible people do exist in this world, Rachel, the sort of people who prey on the weak and defenseless. And there are those who will stand by and let it happen. But there are also good people in this world, those who fight for what's right and stand up for those who can't defend themselves. Do you know which person you want to be?"
"See? The world is already a brighter place, just to have you in it."
"What happened to your mother was terrible." Mr. McKenzie said carefully, gazing at a set of photos on the mantelpiece.
Rachel's throat tightened. She wanted to say something, but she knew if she did, her voice might crack she'd run the risk of crying. She'd already decided a long time ago that crying served no functional purpose. And if it served no function, it had no place in her life.
"She wouldn't ask you to bear her as your burden. I'm afraid for you, Rachel. If she were here she'd be afraid for you too." Her father stood up and walked around the table, taking a seat beside her. "I have been looking at you, and what I see is a scared girl who's growing up too fast and with too much selflessness to properly value her own life."
Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing the water back into her eyes as she focused on the mantle, taking in the images of the smiling young woman with her blonde hair and blue eyes.
"You look just like her." (2)
She noted with frustration how much harder it was getting to stay calm. Yeah, it wasn't fair. But she wasn't going to whine about it, because she knew that life wasn't fair and had gotten used to the idea when her mother had found herself at gunpoint in a parking lot one night. Harvey, waiting in the car, had managed to duck out of sight in time, and he probably didn't remember much now that he was twelve, but that was definitely the time where his phobia of being touched came about. (3)
"I found you a boarding school."
Rachel spun so fast she felt her neck pop. "You're sending me away! ?"
"It's a chance to get out of this town, and to go someplace new. I'm hoping a change of scenery will help."
"I want you to be a kid, Rachel. Make friends, get some distance from this… secret life you're living. We'll be okay. I just need to now that you will be. It's not even thatfar."
Rachel slumped back into the couch. "…Where is it?"
It hadn't been a very good day so far. To start, they'd gotten lost on the way to the school, as her father was one of those 'drive on your gut feeling' types, something Rachel found infuriating. If her opinion, someone should always have a plan, plus a back up to be able make decisions with certainty. More than once a family vacation had ended with their father 'taking life by the horns' and getting them stranded. Rachel had taken to keeping an emergency kit in the truck.
"I have a natural instinct for directions," Mr. McKenzie would say, leading them down a twisty back road through the woods.
They'd spent a good hour taking every dirt path, dead end, and possibly hiking trail in Virginia before finding the main road again, by which time they'd missed half of the student orientation.
"See, Rachel? I told you I'd find it!" Her father declared triumphantly.
"Yeah, dad." Rachel mumbled, stepping out of the car.
"This is going to be good for you. I'll come visit next weekend with Harvey for parent's night, to see how you're settling in."
After watching her dad drive off, no doubt to get lost all over again, Rachel admitted the only anxiety she had was towards how she'd be able to get away from the boarding school as regularly as she'd need. She didn't care about fitting in or making friends, she cared about her responsibilities. Holograms would fill her absence so long as no one touched her, but she'd still wind up missing class… then again, a boarding school would also make it easier to hide her activity from her father. As inspiring as their last conversation had been, Rachel wasn't quitting. She was never going to be a quitter again.
Rachel reached into her backpack, only to find that the map wasn't inside. Had her father taken it by accident? She wouldn't have put it past him to have mistaken it for the state map and attempt to use it in their navigation through the woods.
"Nice." Rachel groaned as she took to the nearest trail in hopes it'd carry her to the main quad where she could ask for directions.
Rachel supposed lost freshmen or new students were an annual occurrence on orientation day, but the way the seniors would snicker as she dragged her suitcase from building to building made it seem like a damn tradition, and one they all found very amusing. Rachel could at least take comfort in how she wasn't the only one having difficulty. One girl, a few meters away, was chatting on a cell phone, but the fast pacing and nervous pronunciation she spoke with made Rachel suspect she was merely pretending as an excuse not to look at the returning students jeering at her. With a roll of her eyes, Rachel sent a disapproving leer the senior's way, making them fall silent. Over the past few years, she'd perfected the art of the death glare. Cheshire Park Academy (4) was on of the most prestigious schools in the country, but it didn't do much for the 'private schools breed snobs' stereotype. It was beautiful, or at least as beautiful as you'd expect a school that charges 20,000 per year to be. The buildings were tall, made of dark red brick, the lawns were a deep green, and the walkways were paved with cobbled stone. Rachel followed the path until it led her to a small bulletin board beside what looked like the nurse's office. With a small glance at her surroundings, she ripped the display map down and stuck it in her pocket. She even began humoring the thought that this would be the last ordeal of her day- that despite the rough start, things would run smoothly from here on out. She should've known better.
The girls' dormitory was a uniform brick structure like all the others, though larger, and was separated from the boys' dorm by a large quad of green grass. She pulled the door open, and after some initial difficulty rolling her luggage through the door, she wandered down the hall only to come face to face with a winding set of stairs. About 35 'thunks' later, Rachel was finally down the second hall and in front of a door labeled '15 B'. By the noises coming from inside, Rachel knew her roommate had already arrived.
'Time to paint on my smile.' Rachel thought glumly.
She just hoped whoever it was would be at least tolerable to deal with this year… the door was unlocked, so Rachel left the key on her chain and pushed it open.
"Ah… hello?" She called, wheeling her suitcase inside. "I'm Rachel McKenzie, your new roommate?"
"Shut the door behind you." A voice greeted back, and Rachel obliged.
The figure was kneeling under a blocky wooden desk, fumbling with an assortment of plugs.
"I brought a printer." The voice explained from beneath the desk. "I hear the ones here suck, so if you wanna use mine it's two bucks."
"Great." Rachel murmured, rolling her things over to the empty bed on the other side of the room.
"Yeah, snark as much as you want. We'll see who's laughing when the printer in the common room jams and you've got five minutes until your next class."
"I'm not that type of student." Rachel said curtly, laying her clothes on the bed and pulling open the empty dresser.
The room was small, but good enough for two people. Two sets of identical furniture were laid out- two beds, dressers, and desks with their own chairs. However, it was painfully obvious that her roommate had divided the dorm in two, shoving Rachel's share of the furniture all the way to the other side.
"That's what they all say. Look, I'm gonna be frank. Neither one of us wants a roommate. Neither one of us wants to clean up after the other, so how about you take care of your side and I'll handle mine, all right? And then we'll see if we can get through this year without me killing you."
Rachel raised her brow slightly, about to respond, but was cut off by the sound of a scanner starting up.
"Finally!" The girl stood up from behind the desk. "Right, so about the bathroom-"
Rachel fumbled with the books she was holding, spilling them everywhere. Her roommate blinked, pushing her glasses higher up the bridge on her nose.
"A klutz, huh? Well that's fine, I wasn't going to let you handle my stuff anyway-"
"Ah, sorry." Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes clenched shut. "What did you say your name was, again?"
The girl casually pulled her chair up to her desk, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. "Lizzie Devine. You said you were Riley or something, right?"
Like she said before, Rachel McKenzie's life was not simple. And the universe really did seem to have it out for her.
That. Sucked. I don't think I handled the mood and changes in atmosphere very well, or the characterization. Pfft. Next time'll be better, promise. I'll be including more characters, too.
(1) Lemme say why I think she's from WV- A. Harvey was in sector W, which is said to be near Sector V through various hints. Also, Fanny goes to school with Sector V, and her brother was in Sector W also, so they've gotta be close. B. Sector V is said to be in Virginia. The closest 'W' to Virginia could either be Washington D.C. or West Virginia, so…yeah. I'm probably wrong, but whatever.
(2) Don't ask why, but whenever I picture what Rachel would look like in 'real life' (ever since I.N.T.E.R.V.I.E.W.S. where you see Sector V's live-action selves I was curious) I picture Emma Watson (yeah, that one) for some reason. Which is seriously weird, but meh.
(3) I made Rachel a bit cold and tragic here, only because if you look at the episodes before she became Supreme Leader (T.R.I.C.Y.C.L.E., F.U.G.I.T.I.V.E., ect.) she's really quite stern. Makes you wonder what made her that way, if it was before she became leader and all. I know when I said "inspired by Scott Pilgrim" people expected something really light-hearted, so I guess I wanted to establish what this story really was- a tour through some screwed up teen's heads as sh*t hits the fan. It gets better and more fun in some parts, but the underlying darkness is always gonna be there, I think.
(4) This is the name of a real school. I kid you not. And yeah, my boarding school really does cost that much. Yikes. Good news is that after graduating from there, you've practically got all your college credits already. Sweet, eh?
Review if you want. I won't shoot you or anything if you don't. I literally wrote this in one night so don't be afraid to tell me it's garbage.