It had been a very, very long time since he had been that angry.

Jeremie cocked his head and smiled lightly at the massacre of what was once his room. Somehow, it looked nice broken.

The computer, on it's side, will need fixing later. He was fortunate that he learned how to fix it himself. His clothes had become his new carpet, scattered, some torn in his fit of fury. The poster of Albert Einstein had been torn right down the middle, the horrid mans face enraged him further.

Oh? What was that warm hush against his window?

Jeremie, who had found himself without glasses when he awoke from his seething acts, glanced at the window. Squinting as he couldn't see from the distance he was at, he continued toward it. His fingers pressed against the cool glass. Oh, it was raining. Figures as much.

It rained the last time he had become so enraged. Sometimes, he wondered if the sky cried when he became angry. Like an abused wife and a drunken husband. Jeremie lopsidedly smiled at the colorful analogy. It came very close to home, close enough to make him go to a boarding school, close enough to make him wear turtle necks all the time and close enough to keep him awake nights on end.

But, he was gone now. He didn't need to think about home. What was he saying? Home was here. Over there was something else, something he hated going back to.

Mothers tears, fathers lies.

He never wanted to return, and for good reason. He figured he missed so much sleep while being there, the loud sex, the horrid pain filled screams, and of course the times in where his father found him useless.

Why don't you go to that gifted school?

Yes, it was a good school. Jeremie would admit to that. But he had visited once, he hated it. All the students were monotone and it seemed like his world was thrown into black and white. He loved his boarding school, he loved his colorful home where all his family members were different. Where each and everyone of them had their own story.

It was a wonder, the whole three years he had been living there he had never had an outburst like that until today. (Was it today? He passed out and was unsure of the time thanks to his computer AND clock being useless at the moment.) His head cocks once more as his fingers absorb the windows temperature with a slight tingle.

How did it start, he wonders as he swipes his fingers against the glass leaving a small squeak in it's wake. Jeremie's cool attitude and passive nature was surely diminished by now, he had never had a fit without hurting someone.

Jeremie never hit a single female, using his knowledge to figure the reasons, he figures it was from father mistreating mother. He figures he subconsciously refuses to be like his father. He can rule out Yumi, Sissy, Aelita, and any other female in his knowledge out of the ruling. He naturally doesn't want to hurt them. Even when he's angry, he can't do it.

It's not Jeremie.

Sometimes he would wonder what was Jeremie. Jeremie himself didn't know, urges came off and on and he would wonder, is that me talking?

Sometimes Jeremie was gentle, sometimes he was a nerd, sometimes Jeremie was violent and cold. He wonders what the real one is.

Who is Jeremie Belpois?

Jeremie Belpois is the name of many people in one body. Jeremie is a man who cannot breath a single breath but many for one. Jeremie is a child trying to be a man.

Jeremie moved his hand from the glass now, pulling up the blinds so that he could see the sky. He can remember the day being as dark as his feelings.

He felt like the sky, a storm that was not going to cease for anyone but himself. His fingers went back to the glass, drawing out a few mathematical equations. He would have the computer fixed in 400 minutes. No longer, no less.

His hand dropped to his side, waiting a moment before searching for his glasses.

Found them.

Correction, due to certain events, it would make it 401 minutes.

--- God Complex


The super computer is what makes his weapon. His mind, ever so cleverly devious, is the strength behind the weapon. He could be their greatest ally or their worst enemy. He chooses his friends but you never know, sometimes those can go a little crazy with an all controlling device.

"Virtualization."

Three pixilated bodies land in the world of never. Before them, monsters with the mishapen eye of XANA stand. They attack, but out of fear and not knowledge of their presence. Where was their God behind the screen with their insider info?

"Jeremie!" Calls the brunette in a fit of frustration. "Why didn't you tell us about the monsters?"

There is a silence that feels like eternities, that truly only lasts seconds.

"Jeremie!?"

Finally, the voice of this 'Jeremie' arises from all things around them. The trees, the ground, the emptiness and the sky.

"You know, controlling what you know and do feels a little like being God."

Another monster appears, they are not warned, the female with the dark hair is hit.

"Jeremie!" She calls in irritation after she cuts apart the monster that attacked her. "This is no time to have a God complex!"

Yet, he doesn't apologize, he does tell himself of his mistake. He simply gives a little laugh over the communicator.

"Really?" He queries. "Really, Yumi? Really, Ulrich? Really, Odd?"

The brunette snarls, being attacked once more by a monster.

"I really ought to shove my foot up your..."

The weapon of the brunette disappears, leaves his hand as he is open for an attack.

"Ow! Ugh! How many points do I have left?"

"Hm? Well, I don't know."

"What do you mean, "I don't know"? You're right there!" The brunette seethes as the blonde quickly disposes of the monster.

"Oh, I did word that wrong, didn't I? I meant, you're not supposed to know. Now fulfill your duties and find Aelita."

The blonde scratches his head and begins to speak,

"And what if we don't, huh?"

The all hearing all knowing voice laughs a moment.

"Then I'll do something, you won't like."

He had always been afraid of drowning.

 

His father once told him that if the entire world was engulfed in the sea, then the world would be a better place. His father liked saying things like that when he was drunk. He liked saying, “Be prepared, Champ!” and shoving him into the dark waters of the pool.

 

He was so afraid of drowning like the world.

 

He learned to swim, he swam so hard that his chest cramped. He spat the blood that came from his lips when he missed his landing. He swam so hard that no sea would catch him. Nothing could catch him; nothing could throw him off guard in that water. If the world were to be flooded, then he’d be the only that wouldn’t drown.

 

The clone of him once mentioned how skilled he was at swimming. That it was so sure he would’ve drowned in that plunge. Part of him gaze a small perverse grin on the inside.

 

He wouldn’t drown with such a feeble attempt as that.