A/N: What follows is the result of consuming too many chocolate chip cookies too late at night and being stuck in that strange place between 'God, I just want to sleep' and 'I have become a zombie-like insomniac'. I'd apologize for the resulting piece of work, but I'd be lying. So… sorry not sorry.

Response to magic-n-science tumblr prompt #62.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Marvel Comics or any of its creations. I can only appreciate the characters they've given us to work with.

Complications in Cyberspace

Part I

Just do it, she'd said.

It'll be fun, she'd said.

Apparently, Darcy should consider a career in politics because she was either a very accomplished liar or was so deluded that she actually believed what she said.

Either way, her suggestion had led Jane to nothing but trouble.

Before leaving work, she'd had every intention of going home, eating something incredibly unhealthy (probably stuffed crust pepperoni pizza), watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory, eating something else incredibly unhealthy (probably mint chocolate chip ice cream), and collapsing into her downy soft, pillow top, six hundred thread count sheet-covered mattress to enjoy a blissful night of sleep.

Instead, she was logged into a potentially regrettable, undoubtedly questionable, and obviously pervert-filled chat room of Darcy's choosing, talking to some creep with an equally regrettable, questionable, and pervert-implying name.

youweremadetoberuled: Why would you want to close out the session?

theuniverseiscalling: Why wouldn't I?

youweremadetoberuled: We're only having a conversation. There's little harm in that.

theuniverseiscalling: Your screen name makes me think you're either a child predator, a stalker, someone with a penchant for dominatrix-esque activities, or a detective pretending to be one of the above. Unless, of course, you're all of the above.

youweremadetoberuled: Completely wrong on three out of four counts and partially wrong on the fourth. I am not, and have never been, a child predator, a stalker, someone with a penchant for dominatrix-esque activities, or a detective. But I can't say I've never pretended to be someone else.

theuniverseiscalling: Which only makes me want to close this session even more.

youweremadetoberuled: Didn't anyone ever tell you that a little intrigue can sometimes make for a more interesting time?

theuniverseiscalling: Yes… the police on the evening news as they arrested a man for stalking minors in online chat rooms.

youweremadetoberuled: Very funny. Tell me, are you a minor?

theuniverseiscalling: Wouldn't you like to know? I may not be a regular, but even I know not to give out any identifying information. Nice try, though.

youweremadetoberuled: You're not.

theuniverseiscalling: Oh, really? What makes you think that?

youweremadetoberuled: Is proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation reason enough?

theuniverseiscalling: No.

youweremadetoberuled: A lucky guess, then.

theuniverseiscalling: Yeah right…

Jane stared at the screen, waiting for the ellipses that signaled her creepy chat room companion's impending response to appear. But there was nothing. She cracked her knuckles, stretched from side to side, finished her glass of tea. But there was nothing. She even took a bathroom break. But when she came back… there was nothing.

And the longer there was figurative silence from the opposite end of the internet, the more Jane started to wonder how it was that he knew she was an adult. Sure, using proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation wasn't exactly the norm in online interactions (it hadn't taken her long to realize that after logging on), but it shouldn't be a dead giveaway. Teenagers couldn't be that incapable of forming complete sentences.

theuniverseiscalling: Really, what makes you so sure? For all you know, I could be a fourteen year old with braces, a bad case of acne, and nothing better to do on a Friday night than tease sleazy men online. Where's your proof?

youweremadetoberuled: Mystery creates wonder and wonder is the basis of man's desire to understand.

theuniverseiscalling: Neil Armstrong said that. Are you saying you want to understand me?

youweremadetoberuled: One may say the eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility.

theuniverseiscalling: And Albert Einstein said that. Stop trying to impress me by using other people's quotes.

youweremadetoberuled: Therein lies the proof that you are not a minor.

theuniverseiscalling: What?

youweremadetoberuled: No minor would ever be able to recognize who said those quotes.

Jane's fingers froze above the keyboard for a second. Two seconds. Three seconds. More seconds than she cared to count because it seemed far more important to be preoccupied with being upset. Damn it, she shouldn't have said anything. Curse her unfailing tendency to spout off random bits of knowledge (even if he had been the one to spout off the random quotes first).

theuniverseiscalling: You're annoying…

theuniverseiscalling: And frustrating…

youweremadetoberuled: Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example.

theuniverseiscalling: Mark Twain.

theuniverseiscalling: You know, the more you talk, the more you sound like a fortune cookie.

youweremadetoberuled: And like a fortune cookie, all of these enlightening quotes are free of charge.

theuniverseiscalling: How very generous of you. I could always use a good citation from a nineteenth century author in my life to remind me not to get too frustrated with strangers online.

youweremadetoberuled: Always glad to help.

theuniverseiscalling: Fortune cookies only come free after a paid meal, by the way.

youweremadetoberuled: Unless you steal them.

theuniverseiscalling: So now you're a thief, too.

youweremadetoberuled: More like a procurer of other people's misplaced objects.

theuniverseiscalling: I didn't know Chinese restaurants were in the habit of misplacing their fortune cookies.

youweremadetoberuled: You'd be surprised.

The bright computer screen illuminated her face, but when Jane looked up to see that the world beyond her chat room bubble had transitioned into night and that the rest of her house was dark, she decided to wrap it up. She may have missed out on The Big Bang Theory and mint chocolate chip ice cream, but at least her stomach was full of stuffed crust pizza while her mind excitedly calculated the exact softness of her bed.

theuniverseiscalling: Well, this has been… I'd say fun but the fingernail-shaped gouges on my keyboard contradict that statement.

youweremadetoberuled: Entertaining? Amusing? Enlightening?

theuniverseiscalling: Pointless seems a little more accurate.

youweremadetoberuled: I'd have to disagree. At the very least, we exercised a miniature quiz of sorts. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for someone to show up in this chat room that knew those quotes.

theuniverseiscalling: Even if that were true (and if it is, that's kind of sad), this was still not how I was planning on spending my Friday night.

youweremadetoberuled: I think you enjoyed it. Secretly.

theuniverseiscalling: I think not.

theuniverseiscalling: Just a suggestion before I go… you really should change your screen name. It's kind of off-putting. Unless you're looking for the type of girl that's turned on by that, of course.

youweremadetoberuled: Duly noted. I'll change it before the next time we talk.

theuniverseiscalling: That's great and all, but there won't be a next time. I have no intention of coming back to this chat room again; or any other chat room, for that matter. The only reason I'm here now is because my friend talked me into it.

youweremadetoberuled: Thank your friend for me, would you?

Jane sighed. Thanking Darcy for introducing her to the headache-inducing world of chat rooms was about as unlikely as her returning to it of her own accord. In fact, it would probably be better if she didn't even admit that she'd followed through with Darcy's suggestion in the first place. It would be like tossing a bucket of chum into the ocean. Jane would be the defenseless bucket of chum and Darcy, the prowling shark that smelled blood. Not quite so disgusting in real life (why couldn't she come up with a better analogy?), but the general idea was the same.

youweremadetoberuled: Anyway, I have a feeling you'll be back.

theuniverseiscalling: Don't hold your breath.

youweremadetoberuled: So, until we meet again…

theuniverseiscalling: We won't.

youweremadetoberuled: Good night.

But before she could reply with either another denial or a genial good night (she hadn't quite decided yet), the area to the right of the box that held their conversation blinked, the hyperlink of his name turning grey to signal that he'd logged out.

For a moment, she sat there and stared at the remnants of their exchange. The bizarrely cocky name didn't surprise her… but the surprising knowledge and annoyingly perceptive yet witty comments were observations that didn't seem to fit in with any of her pre-conceived notions of what to expect.

Still, surprised or not, she wouldn't go back.

Jane closed out of all running programs, shut the laptop, and made a beeline for her bedroom and the deliciously welcoming bed it contained, all the while listing out the logical reasons for avoiding sketchy online chat rooms and the sketchy people they contained.