Frederick Blackwell
Freddie had spent a lot of time with his thoughts since the ARC session had been so abruptly ended. It seemed like he'd done nothing but wait in the aftermath: he'd waited for the campus to be declared safe, and for them to be able to return to their dormitories. He'd waited for Mari to show up for their arranged meal, and it had soon become apparent that she'd forgotten all about it amidst all the chaos. He'd waited for Kieran to finally fall asleep, so that he might earn himself some more privacy to browse the internet. And now, he was waiting in a bland corridor; sat in a less-than-comfortable chair in anticipation of a meeting with his supervisor, large headphones covering his ears and playing his favourite vintage tunes.
"They'll strip you of your heritage," warned the late Alice Glass, repeating the phrase over and over amongst electronic patterns that he imagined must have sounded even more mindblowing when they were first released a decade ago than they did now. This was all that wretched Miss Brown's fault, he was positively certain of it. She, and her frankly abhorrent attack on the English language, had elicited a righteous response from the Brit, and now he was being made to pay. He begrudged the whole thing; his face an eternal scowl as he slumped in the chair, a tastefully battered and oversized leather jacket draping his frame.
But it was better than the alternative, he decided to himself. He'd rather put himself through the Hellish disciplinary system than allow Shakespeare's legacy to be so openly mocked - on foreign soil, no less, where the language was already being tarnished and tainted by linguistic laziness. No, he couldn't allow that.
I'm essentially a Martyr. he thought to himself, as the song ended and an even older one began. Kate Bush,
King of the Mountain.
But of course, if Stephanie Brown thought that she'd seen the back of Freddie that day he stormed out of her poor excuse for a class, she was sorely mistaken. If she wished to continue with her blasphemy despite the obvious offence it had caused, then more fool her... After all, Freddie had spent a lot of time with his thoughts.
"The wind, it blows! The wind, it blows!" shrieked his headphones, as a simulated hurricane whirled through his ears as the song reached climax.
"There's a storm rising!"Mister Blackwell!" came the muffled and impatient voice of the receptionist, who now loomed over him as he pulled his headphones away and looked at her indifferently. "You'll damage your ears with the volume that loud. Miss Zatara will see you now."
With but his signature scowl as a response, Freddie allowed himself to be silently led through the network of corridors that formed that staff offices, until they reached a door labelled
ZATANNA ZATARA - DEAN OF ENGLISH ARTS. He shot the receptionist the most deliberately insincere of smiles he could muster, and gingerly allowed himself into the room without knocking. It was a strange room office, a stark contrast to the blandness of the corridors he'd been escorted through; full of what Freddie assumed were magical artefacts and arcane curiosities, though he knew very little of that world. For a moment, he almost didn't notice Zatanna sat at her desk; completely lost amongst all the eccentricities that fascinated him so.
Zatanna cleared her throat. "Hello, Frederick." she said, grabbing the Brit's attention. "I'd like to say I'm pleased to see you, but I wish it were on better terms than this." she admitted, though her tone and smile remained warm as she gestured to the large, leather seat. "Please, sit down. We have lots to talk about."
"So," she said, browsing through her documents after Freddie had taken a seat. "Miss Brown feels you've been behaving disruptively again. And John Stewart says his department is generally frustrated by your lack of enthusiasm in physical education; though he does note you seem in your element in the ARC sessions." she paused, placing the tablet on the table. "Would you like to tell me about that?"
Freddie was quiet for but a second before answering; Zatanna made him feel welcome and understood, and so he was rather polite. "I just feel like she knows exactly how to make me angry." he said, quite plainly. "And I get the feeling she enjoys it a lot more than is appropriate."
Zatanna furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure that Miss Brown's choice for the production was meant as an attack on you," she said matter-of-factly. "Why do you say that?"
Freddie shrugged. "She told me it was Macbeth." he paused, uncertain as to whether he wished to divulge further... Zatanna's warmth pressed him on. "I'd been rehearsing for weeks. Literally
weeks." he confessed. "And then she had the audacity to serve out some vandalised imitation of Shakespeare as though it was all some big joke... It's not a joke, it's not funny to
me." he said, beginning to get angry all over again just thinking about Miss Brown and her bile.
"It's understandable that you got angry, Freddie," she soothed. "But if we all acted instinctively on our emotions... The world would be a mess!" she laughed. "What I'm saying is, spur-of-the-moment reactions will get you nowhere, Freddie. You need time to think and process things before you're able to respond appropriately." Freddie was barely able to contain the smirk that fought to be freed as he thought of the irony; instead, he simply nodded in agreement.
"You're completely right." he said, mustering all his charm. "I've had
plenty of time to think now, and have been able to come up with a billion more appropriate responses." he smiled, and Zatanna reciprocated.
"That's the spirit, Freddie. It's just a shame you can't see these things in the heat of the moment." she said. "It's important for anyone to control their emotions, but especially so for you: your powers are intrinsically linked to your feelings." she said.
"Don't I know it..." Freddie scoffed.
"My point is," Zatanna began, cutting to the chase. "Your tardiness isn't the only thing that's bothering the Physical Education faculty: they've had to cancel a number of sporting events due to flooded pitches or fogs that refused to budge..." she said, smiling wryly across the desk. "We never had such erratic weather before a certain student flew over from Britain!" she laughed, winking playfully. She seemed to have a soft spot for him; like he was some misunderstood troubled soul, that needed guidance.
"I can't say I feel too guilty about that." he said, unashamedly. "Even if I could control my powers properly, I'd still probably make a good effort to rain on their parade, so to speak." he said, earning a suddenly stern look from his supervisor. "Sorry." he said, quickly seeing his error of judgement.
"Well, despite your...
Reservations, you ought to start getting comfortable over in the physical education department, since you'll be spending a lot of time there." she said. Freddie suddenly became very alert.
"And wh-what do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice shaky with apprehension. He swallowed loudly in anticipation of her response.
Gulp.
"John and I have decided that you need special attention; if you can blow off that extra steam you have, it might be easier for you to control your powers." she explained, choosing not to react to the look of resentment that consumed Freddie's face. "Despite what your peers may think, you actually boast a lot of potential." she said sincerely. "And I should hate to see that wasted. You're also going to be having regular meetings here with me, so we can talk about any of the problems you've faced during the week."
Things had taken a rather dissatisfactory turn.
***
Mari'andr Grayson - 21 minutes ago
"Get your ass out of bed and get over here. Kthanx"
Freddie cursed beneath his breath as he read the message, his fingers hitting the screen manically as he typed a whirlwind response.
Frederick Blackwell - Just now
"Sorry hun. Had to go to talk w/ Zatanna. They're making me do fucking exercise!! Steph Brown will pay for this. Will see you in class"
So engulfed within the digital sphere of his phone, Freddie had been paying no attention to where he was going as he stormed out of the building, colliding violently as he crashed straight into some unsuspecting target and sending himself toppling to the ground; his headphones slipping from around his neck and gambolling merrily along the concrete. He felt the sting of grit on his forehead, and instinctively prodded at the skin to find his fingertips speckled with blood.
Perfect, he cursed to himself. He had the Hallowe'en dance tonight, and now he was scuffed up.
Just fucking perfect."My apologies," he said, groaning as he noticed that he'd also managed to crack the screen of his phone and looking up to see who he'd bumped into. "I really ought to look where I'm going. I hope you're not hurt." he said, sat on the concrete as he rubbed his graze palms on his trousers.