Bluebook Session 11a – The Schadenfreude Society

Gus’ woke up to a cat pummelling his chest and purring loudly in his ear. He gently opened his eyes and looked into the almond eyes of Ms Kitty’s bandaged cat. “How the hell did you get in?” he asked it aloud when he saw that the room door was still closed. It gave his chest one final pummel before it jumped off the bed and proceeded to demonstrate its amazing cat burglar skills.

It walked towards the door, its tail swishing back and forth, then leaped up and clung to the door handle as its weight forced the handle down. It kicked out with its back legs against the door frame and the door quietly opened as it let go with its front paws and shimmied out of the room as the door swung open, then gently back to close behind it.

Well, that was surprising. Through the walls, he could hear Amalia in her temporary accommodation next door welcoming Mau’s return. He wasn’t entirely sure that Mau was your atypical cat, but then again, what was typical in this school? The idea of any privacy was always at best a hope, rather than a guarantee. He supposed he should thank Mau for the wakeup call; it had been so quaint and peculiar that it couldn’t possibly be a dream or further simulation.

Gus’ had the morning off school to allow him to recover. In fact, looking at his watch, he realised it was almost eleven and that he had slept in. Yesterday had taken more out of him than he had expected, though dying twice might do that to a person. Besides the expected phantom aches and pains from his virtual adventure, he felt remarkably well, all things considered. It was a state he had become accustomed to the day after any meta-heroics or training.

He dressed, grabbed his current book and spent an hour or so reading before heading to his locker to grab his school bag then over to the cafeteria for lunch. The reading was a continuation of the studies he’d been given by Dr Lockheart, as part of his self-subscribed extracurricular training, but he couldn’t seem to focus, the ordeals of yesterday leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

He’d expected to be back in class that afternoon, so Dr Lockheart’s summons on his tablet to come to her office immediately after the lunch break took him by surprise.

As he went to put his tablet back in his bag, he realised that someone had slipped a note into it. He pulled it out and read the message.

“The Schadenfreude Society invites Ashen to attend a secret meeting at 6.15pm down in the basement in storage room 12c to plot revenge on the miscreants that attacked the school and our fellow students. Revenge may be a dish best served cold but the planning and implementation should always be red-hot.” It was signed ‘a fellow student.’

Someone must have hacked into his locker Down Below and left the invite, or at least so he hoped. The alternative was proof-positive that his secret identity was, well, no longer secret.

He was slightly disappointed, but hardly surprised. Between the school newsletter article about him and how frequently they attended Down Below, it was only a matter of time before others figured it out, depending on how quickly the guesswork and whispers spread. He supposed it was only courtesy that his true identity had remained obscured until now.

A quick check confirmed that both Colin and Chris had received similar invitations, and that theirs had appeared inside their lockers Down Below as well. When Gus’ mentioned his fears about it only being a matter of time before others outed their identities, he was surprised that the other two were inclined to dismiss his fears.

Meanwhile, Colin whispered to Chris that he had heard of the society before, that it was a school tradition for the meta-students to come together at certain times. As he spoke, he rubbed and tugged at his right earlobe. The very earlobe, he’d ‘lost’ to the bullet in the virtual world, Gus’ couldn’t help noticing. A newly acquired nervous tick, possibly? He felt a sudden pang of guilt that he had been trying to ignore until now.

He was also close to breaking out into a cold sweat and felt nauseous.  He assumed it was a side effect of his virtual-induced withdrawal symptoms, but he certainly didn’t desire to be drugged again, ever again preferably. He sighed heavily. Cold turkey it would have to be. His psychic trainer, Rhan was going to have a field day with all this, it never occurred to him that he might be suffering from the onset of PTSD.

The others, unaware of his near-panic attack, continued discussing the invitations. Gustav couldn’t hide his amused curiosity with the secret school club, if anything, he was delighted to receive an invite considering how absent he had been from his peers recently. Perhaps it was an opportunity for some kind of informal redemption? However, it was clear that Colin wasn’t happy to be around him and seemed glad to head off immediately when a message from Reception appeared on his tablet informing him that a package had arrived for him. Gus’ gave him a small, friendly wave as he left, but it was probably too little too late.

The reality was that Colin did feel ill at ease around Gus’. He had gone into the virtual adventure to help Chris out, he hadn’t been close to Gus’ before his misadventure, and he’d come out of it rather exasperated with the thoughtless wilfulness of the young Carpathian.

He rubbed his earlobe again, as he headed at a sprint for the Reception Block, thankful that his first period that afternoon was self-study so he could check out what the delivery was. He had obviously developed an unconscious habit of tugging/rubbing at his right earlobe.

When he arrived, he was surprised to be told to sign some papers then head over to the Gatehouse where his parcels (plural not singular, he noticed) awaited him. Toby, the current receptionist, smiled at him. OK now he was worried. Toby never smiled.

He headed back only to find Camille waiting for him. In front of her was a red and blue, customised KTM 125cc trail bike. Beside that were parcels containing a helmet and a leather jacket.

“Ah, Sir Bryan has asked me to let you know that he has sorted out the full repair of the two mopeds you two ‘borrowed’ yesterday, they will be returned repaired and fully insured for a year in a couple of days. Oh, and this arrived for you – from your mother?”

A gift from mother rather that the Commander? He must have decided to call her. That explains the speed of delivery though, mother merely had to snap her fingers and it happened.

It was a beautiful bike, exactly what he’d hoped for so he assumed that the Commander had actually told her what to buy and she’d produced the chequebook, trying as always to buy his love and affection? Had she given up on him being a killer yet though? Consumed by revenge she wanted Colin to be her instrument – to pull the trigger and end the lives of those who had plotted his father’s death.

His dad had started his life of crime when he was younger than Colin was now, a protégé of the Kray’s lieutenant, Donohue. Never used a first name or a title, to the world he had been just Donoghue. When the Krays went down, Donahue had taken over running the Firm.

His dad had started out running the ‘Fagan’ crews (controlling younger pickpockets) for Donoghue while still in his early teens. Donahue died, assassinated in ’94 apparently killed by Colin’s old man who then took over running the Firm himself only to be killed in front of his young Polish wife and seven-year-old son. The scarred man who’d fired the bullet that killed Colin’s dad was never found but the assassin was believed to have been working for the crime ‘lady’, Mystery, who subsequently took over and subjugated the Firm into her own Criminal Empire.

His beloved mother hadn’t taken the situation well. There was a strong Polish tradition of an ‘eye for an eye’ and she had him trained to be her instrument of choice.

He’d got into trouble trying to kill some members of Mystery’s crew when he was just 14 and was parolled into the custody of Sir Bryan Bardic rather than going to Juvie. Sir Bryan, better known as the retired superhero, Commander, had retired after he was blown half to bits and had been rebuilt cybernetically. He never returned to crime fighting, but he had elected to train others.

He already had one ward, the sidekick Lance (or Moses to his friends).

It was Commander that helped him come to term with his mother’s expectations; accept he didn’t need to be like them. The Commander took it upon himself to train him to be a hero, and then sent him to join Lance at Claremont as a boarder.

His mother hadn’t taken to the situation well, and a court case was ongoing to have him returned to her custody. Not that it mattered now, he loved his mother and contacted her regularly, but she remained disappointed that he hasn’t revenged his father and taken back the ‘family business’.

He was therefore enormously pleased with, but somewhat embarrassed by, the arrival of his shiny new (and very expensive) trail bike – a rare gift to her only child from his indulgent and admittedly very wealthy mother.

Meanwhile, he accepted the helmet from a smiling Camille and agreed to ride it away from the school buildings and houses, possibly along the riverbank, as she made sure he had his earpiece on in case he did something stupid like fall off it. He smiled back in response.

He immediately took it out for a test run in the woods and alongside the riverbank.  Maybe when it was a bit dirtied-up and less shiny it would seem less remarkable…

As he drove, he considered the invitation he’d ‘received’ – he was interested, mainly for the opportunity he assumed it offered to try to block Browser from attacking the school ever again, because he was not really into pranks as such.

Back in class, Chris had also decided to attend the society, in part because he wanted to stop the Pryde Institute from ever attacking him again and in part because he wanted to test himself against the person who’d unwittingly stolen his nickname…

While Chris was daydreaming, Gus’ was in Dr Lockheart’s study. She smiled and sat back in her chair, her fingers pressed together to form a steeple. “So, how did it feel to be a killer?” she asked.

Gus’ was taken aback by the candid, uncharacteristic question. Seeing the surprise on his face, she continued, “With the mind wipe, you didn’t know that you were in a virtual reality. That meant for all intents and purposes, you tried twice to kill the Baroness. Your actions also resulted in the deaths of others, and you need to own the consequences of your actions.”

She paused for a few seconds, “There is no such thing as a bloodless coup, Mr Jaeger, especially without the people’s popular support. As an outsider in their society that is something your plan can never achieve, so any rebellion was always going to be bloody and imposed, even if it might start from the best of intentions.”

She paused to allow him time to answer.

Gustav took a deep breath, shaking his head. It was already all over. “It’s strange, but I did not feel the great weight of guilt, of bloodied hands at the time.” he paused, lifting his palms. “I suppose it was an out of sight, out of mind situation. How could I feel guilty if I was unaware of what was going on?

Looking back, with hindsight, I would have probably done the same thing, over and over. I did not pull the trigger on Carpathian innocents, thus my intention was pure.” He sighed. “I now know that it is folly, and something that should have been easily anticipated. It’s foolish to think any action wouldn’t have severe consequences, considering how deeply entrenched the corruption is.” he chuckled grimly as Dr Lockheart listened.

“You know, I did not think I would have made the shot. I did not think my virtual self would have attempted an assassination of any kind.”

“As for your virtual self, you were in full control in there at all times. What happened inside the scenario were your decisions, your actions and you thought the scenario was real, it was no computer game.”

Gus’ was taken back; could Dr Lockheart really have meant her earlier ‘killer’ comment?

“Ah, even I know it would be doomed to fail, she is too powerful. I anticipated pursuing a much longer process to create true lasting change, somehow. But to climb the Carpathian ladder is to be relieved of self-control. I suspect the drug and the training was a deliberate set up to allow the Baroness the good excuse she needed to take arms against the public and her opposition.” He rubbed his eyes.” I would be a convenient pawn, a terrible enabler of great violence. To the victor, the spoils and the ability to write history.”

Dr Lockheart again looked him clear in the eyes before replying, “Well, the scenario was all you, all we did was program in the restrictions we know exist and that you had been warned about beforehand.

She did not need an excuse to act; she could have done that at any time and easily laid the blame on someone else. She has done so before and will likely do so again.

It was your decision to join the Seminarium and that decision and your ultimate goals isolated you from the rest of their society, even as it opened up your opportunity to get close enough to the Baroness. She would have addicted you with a control drug just like all the others in her orbit so you would become completely reliant on her. That addiction restricted how long you can act independently. Had you left it any longer than the six months you would have been completely in her control, unable to have even tried to rebel. Everyone she allows to get close to her must take the drug willingly.

The drug the Baroness insists all of her closest followers take daily as a sort of sacrament, as far as we understand it, increases and pumps up the user’s abilities as well as their arrogance and helps remove many of her follower’s inhibitions. It makes them powerful, bloodthirsty, dependant and sociopathic, BUT you were never given the drug, just made to believe you had been.

Your desires were… good but your methods were motivated by revenge and you must take responsibility for your choices, your actions if you are to move on. Instead of revenge being your motivation, perhaps you should look to justice?”

“I suppose we both learnt just how much of a disappointment I was, huh? I am, even. I accept the consequences. I accept my limitations. I am not the same man who wanted to cast the first blow of revolution.

However, I am not disgusted at my actions nor do I feel remorse – but I do feel cold. Cold and tired doctor. Just the weight of shame of my late father hanging overhead like many black clouds. I am utterly defeated… I don’t know what to do now.”

“Mr Jaeger, I must remind you that you weren’t drugged in any of the three scenarios. You only experienced the simulated effects of the withdrawals, not the mind-altering effects of the addiction. That was not responsible for your actions, you were.”

Gustav raised his hand in protest, the lecture muffling in his teenage ears. Hadn’t he suffered enough already? No, he didn’t deserve this, really. It was for the best that each fibre of his being was picked apart under the microscope for how fucked up he was, and all of this ridiculous Carpathian dream was.

“In my defence, Doctor, I was only aware of my freewill and the withdrawal, following the act. It was possibly shortly after the attempts, but as it was me and my hand, you would have to take my word for it. Not the most reliable source of information, all things considered. It was if I awoke from a fog. It was in for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. After the first attempt failed, how much worse could things get? Martial law was already in full swing.”

“Have you ever heard of the Stanford Prison Experiment?”

Gustav nodded, “I think so, but I only had a very limited knowledge of the details.”

“It was a social psychology experiment that attempted to investigate the psychological effects of perceived power, focusing on the struggle between prisoners and prison officers. It was conducted at Stanford University in 1971 by a research group led by psychology professor Philip Zimbardo on his college students.

In the study, volunteers were randomly assigned to be either “guards” or “prisoners” in a mock prison, with Zimbardo himself serving as the superintendent. Reports on experimental results claimed that students quickly embraced their assigned roles, with some guards enforcing authoritarian measures and ultimately subjecting some prisoners to psychological torture, while many prisoners passively accepted psychological abuse and, at the officers’ request, actively harassed other prisoners who tried to stop it.

I have to admit this felt a bit like that. In that VR simulation what was your goal? To replace the tyranny of the Baroness’s with your own?”

With that, Gustav slammed his hands down on the desk in a sudden teenage rage, strength unbidden, shattering the desk. Dr Lockheart looked at the shattered desk beside her and sighed.

Gus’ stood pointing a single accusatory finger at the teacher, his face full of colour. “How many months have we been working together, Doctor? I thought we were getting to know each other quite well. I believed we were friends!

How dare you think so lowly of me? I never wanted to be a tyrant! How could you think that? I just wanted to help! You and I, of all people, know how bad it is over there, yet nobody is willing to do anything! Not metas, not government, not anyone! How can we call anyone a hero?

You think, after all of this, you think I wanted to be another Baroness? I have never been so greatly offended. I am betrayed, Lockheart.”

There were knocks on the door and a voice shouting if everyone was all right? Dr Lockheart walked to the door and opened it slightly to confirm that there had been an accident, but everyone was okay. She closed the door again, turned, walked back to her seat and sat down.

Gustav made to leave, apologising. She stopped him with a raised hand. “Mr Jaeger, we are not finished. Sit down. If I seemed harsh, it’s because as a potential hero you need to own and take responsibility for your actions, for their consequences.

Once you can do that, the next stage is to make sure you never make those same mistakes ever again.

Oh, you will still make mistakes, we all do, but hopefully not the same ones we have made previously. Your goals were worthy, even if you failed to understand the limitations that heroes face and the risks should they try to take the law into their own hands. The ends do not always justify the means.

Your specialist training Mr Jaeger will continue, but I hope your end goal will change from wanting to assassinate and overthrow the Baroness’s rule to using more legal means to achieve your end.

Now, Mr Jaeger you may leave if you wish and there will be no consequences for your, ah, temper tantrum but I do want to see you again on Wednesday instead of attending Special Curriculum.”

Gustav this time held his tongue. He apologised on the way out the door for the desk and closed the door respectfully. He bowed his head as he walked past the gathered staff. Perhaps she was right, that was not the reaction of a gentleman and regardless of what she had said, he was sure there would be consequences for his outburst.

To his surprise, he did not find himself on the ‘Bill’ and that evening after tea, the three of them met up at one of the storage doors that led to the basement and as soon as they were inside, they costumed up. They arrived at storage room 12c about five minutes early. The door was open and it was clear that someone had already bypassed the school’s security.

Inside there were about 30 or so students gathered, all in costume though in Outrage’s and Bubbles case that did not include a mask. They were surprised to see Bubbles there and Chris wondered if she should be as she might be at risk if things were to go south, however he remembered how she’d done during the Terminus Invasion and again during the assault at the Funfair. She’d surprised them with her competence both times; maybe she’ll do so again. She was truly the unsung hero of several of their encounters this year.

Around them were the 5 and 6^th forms group that called themselves the NeXt including a tall Union-flagged hero that Cadet walked across to and fist-bumped, called Lance. Standing beside the Amazons, L33t and the turtle-like Smash stood just in front, as did Icicle, Proxy and several others they’d seen Down Below but never actually spent much time with. Even Seven and Kilowatt were present. In fact, he was reasonably sure that the entire school meta-student body (or at least those who attended Down Below) were present, then realised that both Kitty and Princess was missing.

A young figure, way too young and uncostumed, stepped onto the makeshift stage at the front. It was young Bethany. “Yeah I know I’m powerless and not a Meta but shut up and listen because this involves me as well as my friends…” She waved at the gathered Amazons who nodded back, “Anyway, with Raven’s help,” she gestured behind her and seeming materialising out of the darkness the young heroine Raven stepped onto the stage beside her, “we decided that we needed to stop any further attacks on the school by the PITT.”

Several students including the newly dark-costumed Bubbles were obviously unaware who the ‘PITT’ was. Bethany continued, “The PITT is the Pryde Institute for Troubled Meta-Teens, that well-known charity-run specialist school for Meta-teens which appears to be a cover for a training facility for teen villains. The events at the fairground were caused by them as was yesterday’s attacks.

The Schadenfreude Society used to exist when Claremont was first set up, way back in Whoop-Ant’s day as a way to play pranks on those who needed taking down a peg.”

Colin had heard of Whoop-Ant, a student who’d worked with others to form the first Meta team at the school. He had a reputation as a prankster that still lived on, Chris and Gus were sure the hero who’d helped save them from the Rejects had been both Whoop-Ant and a teacher at the school.

Bethany continued, “The society is planning to pay the Pryde School back, since the teachers seem unable to do anything about their kidnapping attempts and then hacking the school. So The Society, that’s all of us, want to make sure this Browser never attacks Claremont again. Any pranks played on them will be icing on the cake…”

The body erupted with such noise that Gus was convinced the teachers or at least Dane the Maintenance guy would hear them. Bethany waved them down, “I’m glad I set up the noise inhibitor now. OK, so suggestions and plans for taking down the teaching body and this Browser?

I want to allocate the NeXt to deal with the teaching staff, Raven and Seven you organise entry and escape. Amazons deal with the student dorms, seal them in. Ashen, Firewall and Cadet, I’m giving you the task of taking down Browser and hacking their servers. The rest of you, I want that school to be a nightmare to live in for decades to come. Your best pranks, please. Let’s get planning. “

Gustav couldn’t muster a smile, but nodded in confirmation. If anything, he was thankful for the opportunity of distraction, and he savoured the chance to work alongside Firewall and Cadet again after they risked so much for him so recently. Though he did not desire invoking an interschool war of sorts, nor did he particularly care for revenge, he did see it as an opportunity to flex his meta abilities and work in a team again, something to get back on track with. A victory, just maybe, something just had to go right soon, right?

Schadenfreude (Pleasure derived by someone from another person’s misfortune)