VIVA LA PLUTO [open]

It was a wonderful peaceful day in the Academy. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, students skipped merrily to their lectures to learn and fill their stupid brains with the sweet nectar of knowledge. Yes, anyone would be happy to be walking around the school this day.

A loud crash. A desk fell from the observatory followed by several shards of broken glass.

"Mister Lopez! Please, calm yours--"

Out the window.

"Dude what the hell are you--"

Window.

"Croak croak..."

A toad? Who cares. Window!

"DO YOU HAVE JIZZ IN YOUR EARS INSTEAD OF WAX?!" he screamed, slamming his hands on the desk with such fervor that he could feel thw desk sink and the wood splinter under his hands. "OR DID YOU MOM ONLY EAT THE LEAST DEVELOPED PART OF YOUR BODY TO KEEP OFF THE CALORIES?!"

"There is no need for that kind of--"

"NO SHUT UP YOU'LL FUCKING TALK WHEN IT'S YOUR GODDAMN TURN!" The professor shrunk back into his seat as Micah turned back to the turdscicle behind the desk, glaring so much hate into the Grad Student's spectacled eyes that he was pretty sure that she was shitting herself.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN PLUTO ISN'T A PLANET?!"

"It... scientists decided... a few years ago in fact--"

"WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK WHAT SOME STUPID ASSHOLE WITH A TELESCOPE SAYS! IT ORBITS DOESN'T IT?! AW SHIT, LET ME GET ALL SWAMPED IN THIS SHIT--"

"W...well, it's surrounded by debris--"

"WELL SO'S YOUR FUCKING MOUTH BUT WE STILL LET YOU HAVE OPINIONS DON'T WE?!"

"It..." her voice was much quieter. "It... it's small than things we have... categorized as... space debri--"

"WELL GRASS IS SMALLER THAN WEEDS AIN'T IT BUT WE STILL CALL GRASS A FUCKING PLANT DON'T WE? HOLY SHIT THIS IS THE HOTTEST BULLSHIT I HAVE EXPERIENCED THIS CENTURY! YOU MORTALS HAVE TO FUCK UP EVERYTHING DON'T YOU?!"

"Sir..."

"NO, VIVA LA PLUTO FUCK YOU!" Micah continued picking up things and throwing them out of the observatory window, including the woman with stupid opinions.

Now, some people might call Micah unreasonable, quick to angry, and a petulant child. But he considered himself a firm diplomat, ready to talk through his grievances with others in a calm orderly way. When he was forced to, at least. But at the moment, no one was forcing him to do anything, so he dealt with his problems in the diplomatic manner to which he was most accustomed.

Destroying them.

Now as it so happened, he was in the middle of being very diplomatic with one of the bookshelves raised over his head and in throwing position when he heard a call from outside. With the bookshelf still poised over his head, he glanced out to see who was calling him

"Ahahahaha! Lookit that! What's up Jaws?" He asked a big grin on his face. "Hey, you like playing catch huh? Here, go long!"

"And please. Stop with the throwing. We don't want anyone gettin' hurt here, including you."

"Tch." He said, fun demeanor fizzling away into clear disdain as he looked away from the window to the staff member who was addressing him. He could see his tactics. The calming gesture, the 'i don't wanna hurt you' voice, and he could see that he was holding a sheath, just in case he needed to resort to violence.

All there to complete his total facade. Sheesh.

Wrath turned back to the window. "Ey, Sharkzone, this asshole's tryna talk to me. Here, hold this for me wouldja?"

And he chucked the bookcase our the window, dusting off his hands as if he'd just finished a long day of work. Hands now empty he turned to Jacob, picking his ears. "Hey man. What's up. Don't mind me. I just got this thing... if people start spewin' authoritative bullshit at me I go deaf in one ear! Go figure. Say it again. In my good ear this time."

Micah did feel a little bit better once he'd thrown the bookcase. Part of him hoped that Jaws had gotten creamed by it, and was now a big buff squirm of splinters and gills under an encyclopedia and an atlas of the stars. But he got the feeling that he hadn't met some gruesome death at the hands of knowledge, so that put a bit of a damper on his mood.

And the dampers just kept on coming, when the second intruder didn't even react to his taunts beyond repeating his earlier request for him to sit and for them to talk out their grievances. Ugh. Faculty. There wasn't even much to talk about! He thought his reaction was very reasonable given the crimes against Pluto these mortals were committing!

But still, he'd play along. Wrath hopped over the back of the chair, sitting in and crossing his arms and legs, leaning back in the chair, pushing back so it balanced on its two back legs.

"What's there to sort out?" He said, casually rocking back and forth and making level eye contact with Jacob, his eyes casually flicking to the hallway. He had the feeling that someone would be joining in on their saccharine heart-to-heart soon enough. "We were having class. And then there was a little debate."

Micah smiled, unfolding his arms to hold them out to either side of him in a general gesture of 'what can you do'.

"I mean, who can say for certain who raised their voice first?"

It was him.

"Who could even remember who picked up the desk and threw it out the window Maury Show Style?"

Definitely him.

"I mean, who would really get angry about stupid fucking useless mortals declaring shit celestial bodies or not and pissing in everyone else's cornflakes and making it clear why the rest of the beings on this dirtball can't have nice things, now?"

The temporal demon crossed his arms and devoted some of his thoughtspace to digging up what exactly he knew about the man sitting across from him. It wasn't much. Then again there was very little any of these mortals have done that was even worth more than a dismissive roll of the eyes and a scoffing laugh. But that had much to do with the fact that everything seemed minute and boring when you looked at it from the eyes of someone who had watched these little people live millions of lives.

They always ended up betraying someone's trust or getting shot on the pedestal of their greatest triumphs like chumps and he was sick of watching it. It was like watching nothing but reruns of your favorite shows for a few days. The plot runs thin and you can predict the twists in their lives like they were poorly directed romantic comedies.

Ahhh...

With a low chuckle, Wrath dropped the first two legs of the chair onto the floor, resting his elbows on his knees as if he was going to tell Jacob something good.

"Do you think the naming conventions of people are the problem here?" He asked, his voice momentarily serious before he cracked a smile. "No, no, nooooo... see this is what I'm talking about!" Micah threw out his arm to gesture at Jacob before bringing his hands back to his body, morphing one into a ball, and the other into a representation of a person.

"The problem is you people are making all the residents of this dirtball look like a vertiable bouquet of dicks! Going around declaring shit to be or not to be a planet like your puny little minds can even comprehend what that means!"

The thunderous stomping made Micah laugh, turning his impromptu puppets back into hands. "Hey Jaws! I see you caught that bookcase a knowledge I threw at you. I didn't see it but I'm sure your performance was 10 out of 10. Would toss to again."

"Where do you get off throwing people out of a damn window, boy?!"

"Aw, come on Jaws, s'not like anyone was hurt." A pause. Then a peal of laughter. "Okay, okay, okay... whew... Ah.... I crack myself up."

He considered his conversation with Jacob to be finished so he stood up from the chair and walked around it, leaning on the back. "And besides, people have such short useless lives its not like any of them would have made anything of themselves. Except mulch I guess. Think about that huh? Magic Mulch, made from the finest magic meat."

Jesus. Now he was being talked down to by two people at once. Wasn't he just the luckiest little duck. Why did no one else have to deal with this? Why was he the only person the academy decided warrented extra security like a person sectioned under the mental health act.

...

Oh.

Well, fine.

He could handle being sectioned and watched and monitored. After all Greed did basically that all the time as the holder of his tether. But if other people were going to presume that they had the ability to dictate his actions and how he acted, well then...

That he would not stand for.

Micah flexed his fingers a little to free up the energy in them as his arm extended from the wrist, flattening and hardening until it resembled something like a paddle. It clearly wasn't made to be a fighting weapon, but the long flat nature suggested that it could very easily be used as one. It wasn't quite long enough to reach Jacob or Lelei, but it was clear that most of his attention was on Lelei, who insisted on breathing down his neck like an uglier version of the Hulk.

"Hey. Jaws." He said, tilting his head to address the sharkman who was breathing down his neck. Really, Micah wasn't afraid of either of these men. Even if they did both try to attack him. He'd taken on armies large enough to look like a sea. Two random yahoos at this ass-backwards academy couldn't be that hard in comparison. "Do you mind giving me some space? I get it; you don't want me throwing anyone or anything out the window. No need to stank up my breathing air."

"Respect for what?" He asked, not even fully out of derision--it was a somewhat legitimate question.