NOVEL FROG Aggro 4.10
Aggro 4.10
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"So, anyone have any thoughts about the rise of the the far-right in Europe in the 90s? Like, what that says about their politics right now? Or, what that could mean for us… here?" The short man standing in the front of the class spread his arms out, clapping them together as his smile dimmed a little. "Anyone? No one… nobody?"
No hands went up, the classroom nearly silent apart from a few muttered responses and several quiet groans that rang with boredom. The general vibe of the classroom rang of boredom, really, and even the teacher could feel it, his smile not as earnest as it usually was.
"Wow. Well, then…" the man clicked his tongue, one hand playing with his tie as he spoke. "I guess I'll just go over it again. Probably went by it too fast for you guys, huh?" He asked the question with a chuckle, grin growing slightly before fading again as no one laughed. "Huh."
Scratching his chin for a moment, Francis Gladly shook his head again before picking up the textbook on his desk and glancing down at it as he prepared to go over the information again. "Okay. Well, the state of Europe as a whole after the Cold War was generally…"
Greg blinked slowly as he sank further into the seat of his desk, the feeling of cold metal against his neck nothing more than slightly uncomfortable. He stared with half-lidded eyes as Mr. Gladly continued to speak, only paying a modicum of attention to whatever it was that came out of the teacher's mouth, despite how lively the man tried to be.
Oddly enough, Greg usually didn't mind Mr. Gladly's class, actually enjoying the energetic teacher's view on World Issues and the way he didn't blindly stick to the textbook. Even when most of the class obviously couldn't care less about the topic, Greg was usually the one kid asking questions, to his classmates constant annoyance.
Today was different, though.
Today, he was famous.
Even a day after the video dropped, he was still the talk of the school.
Well, not him. Greg doubted he'd actually be able to attend school if everyone knew who it really was behind the costume. White Knight, the moniker PHO had given him, was the one Winslow was all abuzz about. Apparently, as good as the footage from U&L's drone was, the sound quality was just as good. What else would you expect from a crazy Tinker like Leet? So, all of Greg's taunts, jokes and shouted attacks were all over the interwebs, inspiring memelords and internet commentators by the bucketload.
In short, the "White Knight" wasn't only popular, he was also quite meme-able. What more could a guy ask for, really, than to be eternalized in meme form?
Greg turned his head to the side, casting a glance at his friend. Sparky had taken to ignoring him all day simply to give Greg a dose of the silent treatment as punishment for… well, a lot of things, all of them related to Sunday night's events. Right now, his friend's head was down against the desk, Sparky laying down with his hair completely in his face like a curtain of brown.
"Sparky," Greg hissed his friend's name under his breath, covering his mouth with a single hand to avoid detection. "Sparky. Sparky. Spark-keeeeeeee..."
Hazel eyes snapped open, barely visible behind his hair. Even then, Greg saw it anyway. Sparky's hand rose, pulling his hair back to shoot Greg a glare that told him in one look what some people would need a long-winded rant for.
Greg winced, shutting his eyes for a moment as he leaned further back in his seat. Glancing back to the front of the class and dropping his own head onto the table chin-first, he let out a heavy, quiet sigh. This blows.
It did, in fact, blow. Apparently, Sparky's annoyance at his antics hadn't ended with the long-winded string of texts the other day, the long-haired teen carrying a chip on his shoulder into the next day solely to show Greg his displeasure. He didn't even care when Greg told him he'd fixed the costume he made, obviously not believing Greg could do that without at least learning how to work with clothes first.
Greg gave a slight "harumph", blinking languidly, as he looked toward the front of the class. Mr. Gladly was still talking, of course, trying his very best to teach a class that couldn't give damn about fascism in Europe at any point in history.
"And you guys have to understand how insane this is, that less than thirty years after World War II ended, only one generation, another far-right group using the same symbolism…"
Greg blinked for a moment, pursing his lips as he lifted his head slightly.
"Observe."
Francis David Gladly Lv 8
Teacher
HP: 210/210
A teacher at Winslow High School, Mr. Gladly is a young man in his mid-twenties who basically peaked in his senior year of high school and is still chasing that same high. Tends to favor the girls in the class, especially the prettier ones. Drives a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle.
Greg blinked again, bored by the lack of interesting commentary on Mr. Gladly. Glancing around the class, his gaze landed on a head of thick, voluminous black hair. The sight actually brought a slight frown to his face, memories of their last encounter coming to the forefront of his mind.
Sighing, Greg rolled his eyes. "Observe."
Taylor Anne Hebert Lv 12
???
HP: 125/125
A girl you had a crush on for about a year and a half. Kind of a raging bitch who thinks you're a total fucking idiot but you don't let it bother you. Really, you're perfectly fine with that. Really not a fan of gingers. Beautiful head of hair, though. For some reason, you have the strange feeling that you've seen that same head of hair somewhere else.
Greg blinked, tilting his head at both the odd question marks and Taylor's strangely high level. Level 12? What did she do to get that high? Mr. Gladly's almost thirty and he's still level eight. Do levels actually mean anything? Is it all just bullshit?
His lips curled again, slight frown almost turning into a full-blown scowl as he shook his head, deciding to shelve that line of thought for later. Glancing back at his friend, Greg stretched a hand out and poked the teen in the shoulder.
When Sparky didn't acknowledge the action, Greg did it again, repeatedly jabbing his friend with his outstretched index. After ten seconds of this, the olive-skinned teen sat up in his seat for the first time since he had entered the World Issues classroom and gave Greg a pointed look.
Greg returned his look with a closed-mouth smile, dimples out in full force. "Hey, Sparky."
Hazel eyes narrowed as Sparky continued glaring at his friend. "Do you not have a fucking off button?" Sparky hissed in response, voice low as he kept his attention on the progressively bored-looking teacher at the front of the class.
Greg lifted his shoulders and dropped them, still smiling angelically at Sparky as his friend rolled his eyes and turned back to the front of the class, pretending to pay attention to whatever Gladly was talking about now as he continued to whisper at his friend.
"You know my godfather called yesterday?"
"..."
"Yeah, me too. I haven't seen him in like two years so it was kinda weird."
"..." Sparky adjusted his position in his seat, still acting as if he couldn't hear his friend.
"The one who gives great presents, you know. Sent me the year's supply of ice cream last year for my birthday. Kind of a lazy gift, really. I mean, you get it, right?"
"..."
Greg snickered under his breath at Sparky's continued silent treatment. "Fine. Be like that. Anyway, I didn't talk to him but he called my mom almost out of the blue. I thought I was getting an early birthday gift or something but no dice, apparently."
"..."
"You know, this would be more interesting if you engaged me."
"..."
"So, basically, my godfather asked mom if she was interested in having me spend time with my godbrother, because for some reason, his dad figures he needs to set up a playdate. Weird, right?"
"..."
"Anyway, he basically convinced my mom to come to this dinner thing next month."
"..."
"Yeah, it's supposed to be pretty darn fancy too so I gotta get fitted f-"
"The stats."
Greg blinked as Sparky interrupted him, raising an eyebrow at the words that left his friends lips. "What?"
There was another roll of the eyes and a slight sigh before Sparky repeated himself. "I'm still mad at you, dickweed. So, all I want to hear from you is your stats. You said you got sixty points, right?"
Greg nodded back, tapping his fingers on his desk. "Sixty-three, but who's counting?" He replied, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. On the inside, though, he was slightly giddy. Despite how much his friend tried to hide it, Sparky loved to see him mess with his powers. Then again, Sparky did like to nag him more than usual now.
His friend shot him a disdainful look. "Don't give me that. You've probably been drooling about all your points all day yesterday."
Greg tilted his head in acknowledgement of his friend's point, fighting the grin on his face. "Maybe a little."
"Uh-huh," Sparky replied, rolling his eyes again. "So… what'd you do with them? The perks, too. I wanna know." Sparky slid back in his seat again, pulling his black beanie down far enough to shadow his eyes. "Don't try and say you didn't use them either, you fake-ass King Arthur wannabe."
Greg raised an eyebrow, his mouth shifting into a grin. "You're just jealous."
For a moment, Sparky didn't respond, giving Greg an imperceptible glance. A moment later, he clicked his tongue. "Jealous of what, brah?"
"Me in general. I mean, at least I'm not single."
Sparky raised an eyebrow, resting his chin on an upraised fist as he leaned forward on his desk. "I'm pretty sure Barnes is just attracted to morons, G. You've gone on multiple dates and been a complete doof on each one."
The wince on Greg's face was utterly unintentional and it spoke to the truth of Sparky's statement, Greg not even denying it as he hissed slightly. "Your point?"
Sparky smirked slightly as Greg reneged on the fact that he did, actually, have a point. "My point is, brah, that I bet one day you'll ask her where toast comes from and her clothes will just come flying off."
Greg narrowed his eyes at the smirking form of his best friend, smugness clear in his expression. "I maintain that you're just jealous of my awesomeness."
"Awesomeness?" Sparky let out a low hiss of air from between his lips, almost as if he were smoking a cigarette. What's awesome about some white knight with a shitty light-up sword? King Arthur can eat a dick. Lancer forever."
Unable to hold it back, Greg let out a loud snort of a laugh as he slapped one hand against his desk, only to quickly try and cover the sound up with a faked coughing fit as a classful of eyes glanced back at him. Even Mr. Gladly had looked up from the book for a moment, pausing mid-sentence to stare at Greg.
Utterly unperturbed, Greg smiled back at the faces in front of him, chuckling slightly. "Sorry, uhhh... allergies."
After a few seconds of staring at Greg as he smiled, Mr. Gladly shook his head. "You sure about that, Greg?"
"Hundred percent, Mr. G," Greg replied, still beaming. "Mild allergies are still allergies."
"If you say so." With that, the teacher went back to reading, some of the class rolling their eyes as they turned back around in their seats.
Free from Gladly's scrutiny, Sparky turned and cast him a glance, eyes narrowed. "Stats. Talk."
Greg grinned.
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Spoiler: STATUS