Daybreak #3 Contemporary Japanese Media Studies

Daybreak #3 Contemporary Japanese Media Studies

==The Trailer==

Day 10

In the months following Miranda’s death, the Misfits undertook a role that Sharpe had rather cruelly dubbed "Drury Duty;" what that entailed, was monitoring Walker as closely as they could, placating him whenever possible and giving him an outlet for his outbursts, mood swings and frustrations. Often times, it meant simply watching whatever he wanted to watch, buying what he wanted to eat and in one particularly notable instance, it had meant fighting the League of Assassins.

When he returned from his exile, things remained very much the same; the Misfits supported him however they could, and with varying degrees of enthusiasm- Rigger was of course ecstatic to help Drury out, Gar did his part with unwavering loyalty, and Flannegan would pitch in so long as he was paid for what he considered "Overtime."

Philip Reardon, Ten, who had previously objected to Walker’s continuing reckless streak, had similarly carried on, keeping his reservations unspoken. Yet, the longer they stayed away from Gotham, the more anxious he had grown. Confined to the trailer, he sat unimpressed, as Drury watched The Disaster Artist for the sixth time that week, Gar by his side, flicking that infernal lighter on and off, with annoying consistency.

Fortunately, a moment’s respite arrived, as Rigger entered the base with a bag laden with Chinese food. "Take-Out’s here," he announced cheerily.

"Place it on the table there, Joe, we’ll get it in a minute," Drury said, not taking his eyes off the screen, a thoughtful hand placed on his chin.

Rigger nodded, and dutifully began unpacking the food. "You think Batman minds we’re using his Netflix?" he asked, as he placed napkins around the table.

"We stole his truck, Joey, he didn’t seem to fault us for that," Drury joked.

"It’s not Batman’s," Gar drawled, as he turned back to the TV. "The account was listed under Devon or Damon or something."

==Study Room F==

Since Jeff and Chuck had made their uneasy peace, the Misfits continued to study side by side with their fellow students. Well, Chuck studied. Blake, was still set on winning Britta’s heart, and Mayo, spent his time doodling in his notebook; his latest creations were a series of drawings about a pair of anthropomorphic ketchup and mustard bottles he’d named Keith and Robert Attfield.

With his now-typical flamboyant flair, Dean Pelton entered the room, this time dressed in a Women’s Suffrage outfit. "Bad news people," he began. "Our Woman StuDeans teacher dropped out and now we need a replacem-"

Without thinking, Blake spoke up. "I’ll do it," he said proudly.

The girls look at him, then back at the Dean in horror.

"Great! You start Thursday, here’s your schedule, your office key, and- my personal number," Pelton winked, as he handed Blake the coursework, and scribbled on the bottom of the topmost sheet.

"Cool," Blake said,

"Dean!" Annie gasped in protest. "Shouldn’t a woman’s studies class be taught be a woman? Instead of, y’know…" she gestured at Blake, hesitant to say ‘man.’

"Oh, yeah, and I guess Ladders should be taught by a ladder? Get with the times, bigot," Pierce grumbled condescendingly.

The Dean smiled. "It’s a nice thought, Annie, but the board’s concerned that if we hire another woman, and for a woman’s studies class no less, that there may be a level of bias involved. That why I’ve always made sure replacement teachers are the opposite gender, and, anything in between," he explained, as he made his exit.

The group pondered the accuracy of the statement; strangely enough, it did seem to line up.

Britta frowned, as she turned to the boys bitterly. "You just couldn’t let us have this one, could you? Just another thing you men just had to take from women. The oppressive power of the penis strikes again."

"Give it a rest Britta," Jeff interjected. "We gave you Ghostbusters."

At this, Troy reached over and rested his arm on Abed’s shoulder to comfort him.

"Told you I’d get there, Chuck," Blake whistled triumphantly, rising to his feet. And, as he left, he dumped the textbooks in the nearby bin

"That’s a really bad sign," Abed declared flatly.

==The Trailer==

Forced to choose between Wiseau and his career, The Room or his girlfriend, Sestero bowed his head. Amber scoffed disappointedly, and walked off the set. Tommy shrugged, and continued to bark nasally orders. Gar’s eyes widened as he began to notice parallels that you could only really notice if you too had been forced to watch The Disaster Artist on a daily basis for a week.

"Nah," Drury tutted to himself. "Sorry Dave, I’m just not feeling it." Reardon had begun to notice that his opinion towards the Franco brothers’ acting was as flippant as Wiseau’s on-set behaviour.

Gar paused, and slowly turned his head to his companion. "Drury. Did you Disaster Artist me?" he asked sternly.

"Now, Gar, that depends on the context," Drury deflected. "Did I once proposition you to make a kick ass movie? Yes, yes I did- you said no. Did I invite you to live with me? Also yes- you said no. Did I fire a team member or two because they didn’t like me- You know what, this isn’t helping my case, is it?"

"You- Hang on, you told me Lord Death Man was stealing stationary!" Gar said in disbelief.

"Maybe he was! …oh, who am I kidding, he was a class act. But, also a weeb. He had to go, Gar," Drury said as though he felt that justified his dismissal.

"Weeb? He was Japanese!" Gar exclaimed, his ire rising.

"Oh," Drury muttered. "Oh, in that case, I really need to review my diversity quota. Helps with the scandals."

"Speaking of-" Rigger interjected cautiously. "Do you think when you’re done, we can watch what I wanna watch?" he asked trepidatiously.

At this, Drury pressed pause on the remote and glared at him, before both him and Gar burst out laughing.

"It’s just… I’ve got some stellar anime lined up, not to mention Ten refuses to binge watch Stranger Things with me," Rigger muttered sadly.

Reardon, took his earphones out. "First off, it’s a binge listen, not a binge watch for me-"

"Yeah, but visual impairment stuff is-"

"Secondly, I just don’t like kids."

Drury and Gar scowled at him.

Backpedaling, Reardon attempted to explain himself. "I mean, I like your kids, I like kids I know, but the rest of them put out some bad vibes."

"But she’s so good man, so good!" Rigger reassured him.

"I still use Twitter, Joe. Drake’s told me exactly how good she is," Reardon grimaced, as he leaned back into his chair.

"You follow Drake on Twitter-?" Rigger asked.

"I like his music."

"IT, GLOW, Stranger Things… it really all is just 80s nostalgia these days, ain’t it? I grew up in the 80s, and believe me, there’s nothing nostalgic about it," Gar complained.

"Yeah, but you grew up in 80s Gotham. 80s Hollywood had so much more cocaine," Rigger elaborated. "Like, so much cocaine."

The radio in Drury’s pocket started to buzz. "Destro to Commander, Destro to Commander, are you reading me, over?" Chuck’s voice rang out.

Drury looked over at Gar guiltily. "Look, I have to take this. Yeah, this is the Commander, over."

"You just wanted the title, didn’t you?" Gar scoffed.

"That’s not true at all," Drury said sternly. "My original pitch was Vader and the Emperor."

"But, to be clear, in that scenario, you would also be the Emperor, right?" Reardon asked.

"God, there you go again! That’s also the 80s!" Gar frowned.

"True. But from a certain point of view, isn’t Star Wars timeless?" Drury asked.

"Yeah, Jesus, Gar, it happened a long time ago in a galaxy far far away, keep up," Rigger piped up.

"Sorry, what was that, Chuck?" Drury asked into the walkie talkie, glaring at Gar. "The Baroness is being a real bitch."

"Sure. Hi, Drury," Chuck said. "As I was saying there’s been a, um, slight hiccup."

"How slight?" Drury asked suspiciously.

Chuck winced. "Blake joined the faculty."

Gar’s ears pricked up. "He did- When? Why? How?"

"I guess god did bless the Pussy Patrol after all," Rigger shrugged.

"Oh, no, don’t you put that on Him," Reardon responded sternly.

"No, no, this is good," Drury said.

The trio stared at him blankly. "How?!" Gar repeated.

"Think of it this way," Drury explained. "Blake might be our best shot of getting to Kuttler. As a teacher, he’ll have access to the faculty lounge. And seeing as Kuttler sprints there between classes, you know he has nowhere else to go."

Reardon swallowed, then he tucked his goggles into his breast pocket. "Do you know what, Drury? I don’t think you’ve made a good call this entire trip- I actually don’t know if you’ve made one since you came back, but we are all increasingly worried for your mental state. I don’t know if it’s grief or guilt or another bipolar episode, but you need to start talking to us. And, please, god, about something other than GLOW. Have you even given a second thought as to how we’re going to get back into Gotham? The Bats hate us, the Outcasts want to kill us, and that’s to say nothing of the two million other people we’ve ticked off… We’ve put our jobs on the line for you. We put our lives on the line for you, and-"

"Ten!" Drury yelled with unexpected anger; Rigger jumped out of his seat, Gar put away his lighter, and Chuck wisely moved the walkie away from his ear. "Can you come outside with me for a minute, please?" Drury said quietly.


Reardon climbed down the ladder, and took a deep, regretful breath. "Look, Drury, about what I said- It’s not that I trust you, not fully, it’s just-"

"Enough." Drury raised his hand to silence him. He said nothing for a moment, just staring at him in contempt. "You’re my friends, ok? My best friends. But when I was in Keystone, not one of you visited me. Not one. I got your texts, I saw your photos, but no one bothered to come down there, not even for a cup of tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate; I make great hot chocolate, you know. But it was like- like you were all content to just pawn me off to Suit and McCulloch. "Let him be their problem now!" Do you understand what it’s like? To be me? To feel so elated one minute, and so utterly lonely and empty the next? Because that’s my life, Ten. God knows what it did to my marriages, I can barely describe what it does to me." And then, his lip quivered, and suddenly, he collapsed into Reardon’s arms, as it all came flooding out; all his insecurities and all his pain. "And why does… Why does he get to come back? Why does he… And not her?"

Reardon sighed; he didn’t know how to respond, or what to say. He didn’t have those answers, as much as he wished that, in that moment, he did. "Because…" he paused. "I… I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I don’t. But I do know, that if we got to decide who lived and who died, we’d be no better than Carson."

Unsatisfied but understanding, Drury rubbed his nose and nodded. "Figures," he sniffled. "Don’t tell the other guys, ok?" he asked genuinely. "They’re nice people, but, I don’t think they get me. I… I don’t think anyone can, not even Miranda could’ve."

"Of course," Reardon replied firmly. "But do you know what I think? Honestly? I think you try hard, very hard, in fact, to do the right thing. You don’t always succeed, but then again, no one can. Not even Superman, I’d wager. I know how much you care that people know that; that you wish they’d notice more. I know you’re fiercely loyal and wholly committed once you’ve set your mind to a task. And I just… I just wish sometimes you’d think things through, that’s all. And, if it helps, you’re also the strongest person I know, so there’s that. Because, if not for you, I’d likely still be in Blackgate. Heck, I’d be dead," he admitted.

"Urgh, God help you," Drury winked cheekily.

"I’d like to think so, yes."

"Now," Reardon smiled. "Do you want to come inside and watch Animé with Joe and I?"

"I would absolutely hate that," Walker said grimly. "So, let’s do it," he smirked

==The Women’s Studies Classroom==

Day 11

Blake had rested a pair of spectacles on his nose, and tied back his hair. From a glance, he almost looked educated. "Today," he said, addressing the classroom, "I thought, just to break the ice- I’d talk about some of my favourite women." He snapped his fingers and Mayo began to place pictures up on the whiteboard for him.

Blake gestured at the first image with a laser pointer. "Joan of Arc. Murdered the English, pretty slick. From what I hear, she’s also a witch. Badass." In reality, the picture was of Jennifer Lawrence’s Hunger Games character.

Mayo placed the next picture up.

"Rosa Parks. Used public transport. And this was, like, in the 60s where there was really no hygiene. Badass."

Mayo frowned at the next picture, looking to Blake for confirmation, and hesitantly placed it up on the board.

"Amy Schumer. She keeps going up on stage and sharing intimate details about her body- even though she is clearly terrible at what she does. She has left nothing to the imagination and we all hate her for it. Badass."

Lastly, Mayo put the final picture up, and nodded in approval of the large image of Sigourney Weaver.

"And Ripley. Ellen Ripley fought aliens. Need I go on? Badass."

As Blake spoke, each remark more sexist than the last, the girls looked on in horror; Shirley shook her head back and forth, Britta stared at him, mouth agape, Annie’s eyes brimmed with tears. Abed, continued taking notes.

===The Trailer==

That day, the four Misfits sat assembled in the trailer, watching an Animé show of some sort; Rigger sat crossed legged in front of the monitor, and sat around him, on black leather seats were Drury, Reardon and a less than enthused Lynns.

"Are all Japanese women that, um, bottom heavy, because, Jesus Christ, man…" Drury murmured absent mindedly to himself, his gaze drawn to a particular large woman.

"She’s 11," Rigger shot back, disgusted. "Well, she’s actually about a 1000 years old, but she has the body of an 11 year old," he explained.

Drury collapsed back into his chair, blushing slightly. "I really hate these shows," he muttered, as he reached into his left hand pocket and slid out his phone to read his new text message; one from an unknown caller. ‘Town center. Tomorrow evening,’ it read. Drury frowned for a moment, then he gazed off at the Misfits, still discussing things they had no business discussing, and his boyish smile returned.

"Look, I don’t know how many pre-teens you know, Rig", Gar interjected, "But I’ll bet none of them have an arse like that."

Drury reached over and whispered in Ten’s ear. "So, you think we can sneak into one of Blake’s lectures tomorrow?"

Reardon smirked back at him. "God, I hope so."

Posted by Duncan C. Young on 2021-03-03 13:02:44


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