fandomhigh | Detention [Saturday, November 21]

"Move! MOVE MOVE MOVE!!!" Max waved his Luger at the detainees, trying to push them out of the rickshaw, into the school, and in through the door of the Danger Room. "Step to it! Don't make me get violent!" He fired into the ceiling a few times. "No, you know what, MAKE me get violent!!!"

"I don't think anybody has to make you get violent, little buddy," Sam said cheerfully. "Hello, boys and girls! And welcome to Gun Safety. Today we're going to be teaching you how to properly clean and store handguns, pistols, and even some old-fashioned muskets we found laying around. Does anyone here know how to pack gunpowder?"

Max, in the back of the throng, started jumping and waving his hand in the air. "Oooh! Oooh! Pick me! Pick ME!!!"

"Not now, Max," Sam said in a stage whisper. "I'm lulling them into a false sense of security, so they forget they're in Detention."

Max sighed and shook his head condescendingly. "Sam, Sam, you forget they've got two raving psychotic lunatics waving GUNS at them. They're not going to be lulled into ANYTHING." He shrugged. "...So, we should just shoot them now."

"I don't think we're supposed to kill them, Max," Sam said, scratching his temple with the end of his gun. "They can't be our future if they're filled with bullet holes. Oh, I know! You know what would be educational and fun?"

"A bathtub filled with spaghetti and the collected works of Stephen Hawking?"

"This isn't Tuesday, Max," Sam reminded his pal gently. "I was thinking we should deputize these fine boys and girls and teach them how to be Freelance Police! Give them a taste of our cases. Show them that working with the law is always better than breaking it. Although it's usually best to do both at the same time."

Wasn't this going to be exciting? It was! And it wasn't like the students had a choice about it, anyway!

Welcome to Detention, Sam and Max style.

(OOC: the post for getting arrested (if you choose to do so) is here. Detention, ahoy!)

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"That's just one of my patients!" ~~Peepers~~ Sybil said. "She's undergoing an experimental new treatment. I'm a licensed psychotherapist, you know!"

//Yer definitely... something. Excuse me.//

Look, people should not be locked in closets, was all Jono was saying, here. And so if the little guy would excuse him, he was going to push past and attempt to free whoever the poor girl was who was trapped inside.

Luckily for Jono, the door was only locked. A simple flick and a turn of the handle would open the closet, to reveal a woman with cat's-eye glasses and her hair back in a severe bun.

"Oh, thank you," she sighed, standing up and brushing some dust from her legs. "I was in there so long I started making up life stories for the mothballs."

That was one hell of a pair of glasses, there. Jono's eyebrow was still up, and it was starting to look as though it might never come down again.

//I'm certain they were absolutely enthralled,// he mused, and then glanced over his shoulder at the little man he'd pushed past. //This bloke causin' grief for yer, at all?//

... Look, he didn't exactly trust Peepers, there. For various reasons, not the least of which was the simple fact that the guy creeped him the hell out.

"Is that lunatic still here?" Sybil gaped at the small man, and then facepalmed. "That's the jerk who locked me in there! He's been pretending he's me!"

//Between yer and me, luv, he's pretty terrible at it.//

Jono crossed his arms over his chest, looking the little guy up and down.

//Why th'bloody hell would yer do somethin' like that, anyhow?//

"She's the patient, not me!" Peepers insisted. "I'm Sybil Pandemik, licensed psychotherapist! She's delusional and thinks she's me!"

"I am you!" Sybil snapped. "Or you're me, or -- you know what I mean!"

"Her delusions are pretty persistent," Peepers sighed.

Sybil nearly told him where to stick his delusions. Instead, she tilted her head at him, abruptly.

"Hang on," she told Jono. "I think he's been hypnotized."

There was really only one thing that Jono could think to say, at that.

//I didn't do it!//

Look, that was supposedly why he was here.

"Nobody accused you," Sybil said. "You have an intriguing guilt complex and associated paranoia response. You could probably use some therapy. But that's not the point. I can reverse it, if we can render the subject susceptible to new input."

Way to sound like an absolute berk, Jono. He sighed, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest.

//Right then. How do we go about doin' that?//

"Knock his creepy little butt unconscious," Sybil said. "I'll handle the rest."

See? And Jono thought detention wasn't going to be any fun.

//Right, then.// And now Jono was looking around the room, and then stepping... well, stepping over Peepers, so that he could grab that lamp over there off of the end table.

And then he was turning around, shrugging almost apologetically to the little, little man, and swinging the lamp as hard as he could at the bloke's noggin.

//Sorry, mate.//

Only not really.

For someone with such huge eyes, Peepers never saw Jono coming.

"Thanks," Sybil said. "He'll get a full psychoanalysis when he wakes up. This might take a while. If you want to arrest him, you'll have to come back later."

//I'll get right on that,// Jono replied, giving his shoulders a shrug. //Yer fine, then, if I leave now?//

If he came back and she was in the closet again, he was going to kick something.

"Couldn't be better," Sybil said. "If this pipsqueak tries anything like that again, I'll knock him into next Tuesday."

Sybil was in no danger. Peepers might be, but who cared about Peepers, anyway?

Certainly not Jonothon, really.

It helped that this was all danger shop insanity, and he could feel fully guilt-free about walking away to leave Peepers there to his own devices.

Anyhow, he had to figure out how to get through the day without getting himself shot by a dog and a rabbit. This meant going along with it, right? Right.

Detention [Saturday, November 21]

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