He grabs the gun, briefly, but you fly into action, kicking the gun away with an authoritative karate chop. Or something. Either way, ten seconds later, the kid's holding his hurt wrist, the gun's in the trash, and you're standing on the Riso-Graph.

 "Listen, kid. You should know by now that crime doesn't pay. Your job on Council is protect the students-- both from the powers that be, and from each other. Managing student resources wisely and protecting them from those who would try to compromise them, that's your job as a member of Student Council. You have won the right to be a crusader against the slow imposition of someone else's will on the freedom of the student body. Sure, it's not an easy job. It can be slow, it can be frustrating, it can be thankless and without obvious reward, but gosh darn it, the kids are counting on you. Your colleagues are counting on you. And dammit, son, I'm counting on you.

 "So turn that frown upside down and get to work. You've got to raise some cain, get your butts organized, and don't forget to make sure the student orgs are doing their jobs. The future is now. And it pays to Discover^TM."

And with that, you turn to the next page.