Chapter one: The horrors of being known
Character: Terry McGinnis (Batman Beyond)
Unwanted First: FictionBook account
"You need FictionBook, he said. It will help you keep in touch, he said. You need to be more sociable, he said!" The glass the raging teenager was holding went flying from his hand to crash against the far wall. Thankfully, the bartender had been well aware of the boy's rewritten state and had given him a plastic sippy cup without the sippy part. The cup hit the wall with a dull thud before falling to the ground, waiting for someone to return it to the bar.
The boy who had thrown the cup returned to glaring at the wall in front of him. Had the boy been wearing his mask instead of allowing the headpiece to lie against the back of his neck, the glare may have had the wall cowering. However, as the mask was not on his face, Terry's glare was as threatening as his aim. Terry paused in his rant to take a breath and reach for his glass, maybe half-aware of a new plastic cup being placed before him by his amused listener and self-appointed shrink, Nathan Drake.
"FictionBook wasn't all it was cracked up to be huh?" Nate sagely said as he reached over the wooden counter to grab a new bottle of alcohol. The bartender wouldn't even notice since a fight had just started and besides the only ones paying for the alcohol were the taxpayers of various countries. Before Nate could top up his drink, Terry's fists had slammed onto the counter causing both his cup and Nate's to fall over and spill their contents. While Nate reached over the counter for a cloth, Terry began to verbally post his problems where all could hear.
"I'm the—" a scream of pain behind them covered Terry's curse but the boy continued unaware, "Batman! I'm supposed to be anonymous! I fight crime from the shadows and am the fear of all who break the law! Now he wants me to…" Terry paused as he stared in confusion at the new bottle placed in front of him by the bartender as the character walked past. The boy reached for the bottle only to remember his train of thought. Anger returned, he slammed his fists onto the counter once again causing the glasses and bottles to jump. Miraculously, the items did not tip and spill but Terry was once more on a roll. "He wants me to be—" a gunshot blocked Terry's curse once again, "Superman or something! I'm not a boy scout! I fight dirty and I don't look good in tights!"
"As far as that goes," Nate interjected as he replaced the bottles under the counter before Terry could tempt fate again. "You're also a teenager. Didn't they have Teenspace in your show?"
The boy Batman paused as if he couldn't remember every episode of his show. Finally, he announced, "No!" He failed to notice the amused smirk on Nate's face. "Otherwise it probably would have turned into an episode about privacy and kidnapping." Terry reached for the cup and swallowed its contents unaware of the growing intensity of fight behind them. He had been told his drink was a rye and Coke when Nate knew full well it was just good old Coca Cola.
The teen hero was silent for a moment after his drink before he exploded again. Unfortunately, someone set off a chain of cherry bombs at the same time causing many of his words to be lost in the popping. "— Static!" I didn't want this—! I just wanted to sign up and forget about it except for when I need it! I just wanted to check the— raid schedule and then forget about it for a month! If I added anyone it was going to be— people I give a– about! Not people I've been— forced to work with and— hate with every— of my being!" The boy finished this rant by putting his head down on the counter as a rather large cherry bomb went off behind him making it seem like he had caused the table behind him explode.
Nate grinned and nodded again while trying to seem like a wide old man. Unfortunately, the grinning caused him to fail the mission quickly. "Let me guess," the treasure hunter said as he took a sip of his own drink, "Static sent out the friend requests."
"He—" A shattering of glass in the background muffled his cruse for the eleventh time. "Did! I don't even like Elsa but the—" the glass light hanging above the boys shattered causing Nate's "Crap!" to overshadow Terry's curse. The replacement-Batman seemed unaware of the glass shards falling into his drink as he counted to shout from his place with his head on the counter as if he wanted the attention. "Accepted it! The dreg probably needs all the fake friends she can get!"
"Or her sister accepted it for her," Nate said as he glared at the undrinkable contents of his drink. The tomb robber glanced over his shoulder to see the fight escaping into the hallway where a certain blonde enforcer was walking by. Since his drink was undrinkable, Nate threw it the blonde's direction and was amused to see the blonde backflip out of the way in his pre-programmed successful quick-time action. While the blonde was scanning the area for his attacker, Nate reached over the counter again and grabbed a sealed beer bottle. He was in the process of opening the bottle when Terry suddenly raised his head and screamed to the ceiling.
"And then I have to check the—"another gunshot, "thing every day to see if there is anything good about it!"
"Keep that up and you'll be really depressed," Nate replied before frowning and attempting the most physiatrist expression he could while taking a sip from his beer bottle. "So tell me, does this misplaced anger and need for confirmation have anything to do with your inability to curse like a man and not a kid's show?"
Terry seemed not to hear Nate's question but reached for his drink to take a sip. Only Nate's quick thinking and intervention prevented the boy from drinking the glass filled soda. While the blonde enforcer successfully completed another quick-time event, Terry finished his story. "But the worst part is the face that I can't get rid of the stupid thing or he'll know!"
For the first time in the conversation, Nate actually tried to help Terry with his problem. The thief placed his bottle on the counter and covered the top of it with his hand in case another light bit the dust. "Why not delete it and call it a computer problem?"
For the first time in the conversation, Terry actually looked at Nate. He glared at the man and made a 'zap zap' gesture with his hand.
It took a few seconds for Nate to remember Static Shock's power. "Right. My bad."
Terry sighed as he leaned back on his stool. "Why did I crack? I could have used email to get the schedule." Terry's depression quickly turned back to anger as his voice rose in volume. "I didn't need this stupid! Marketing! Spam!"
Nate sniffed catching the smell of smoke. He glanced around them but didn't see any open flames. Shrugging it off, he took another sip of his beer and returned to the conversation. "I think you mean scam and something tells me you cracked because you were curious."
"That too," Nate agreed as he turned on his stool to watch the final moments of the fight. The damage to the bar wasn't that bad when you had a guy called Fix-It Jr. in residence with a magic hammer. Still he had a feeling even Fix-It would be amazed by the destruction. Not bad for a Friday night. Beside him, Terry suddenly sat up straight and jumped off his stool. He stood in a heroic pose with his fists clenched and ready for a fight.
"I'm going to delete it first chance I get!" he shouted for the world to hear.
Nate nodded as he watched one of his partners get hit in the head with a chair. "Good luck with that."
"Before I become a FictionBook zombie!"
Nate nodded again and for the final time that night, he attempted the wise sage expression. "Hopefully," he said before his expression became his default amused one. "By the way, why didn't you accept my friend request?"
Very quickly, Nate and Terry found themselves starting a second bar fight. Minutes later after the fight had been broken up, the unruly characters sent to bed, and the fire discovered in the kitchen, the blonde enforcer sat down at the counter beside the treasure seeker. As Nate handed in a beer, the character asked, "What was with that shouting?"
Nate shrugged. "Guy is just venting about his problems and looking for attention."
"He should get a FictionBook account."
A/N: My friend (let's call her Static) forced me to get Facebook. End of story.
Disclaimer: If you recognized it, I probably don't own it.