AN: I apologize for the distinct lack of updates recently, on all fronts. I just started Grad school, which takes up more time than you'd think it would. Anyway, I promise that a new chapter will be popping up on Company within the fortnight, but in the meantime, here's a little something to tide you over.

Title: Captain Jack and the Cybermen
Fandom: Phantom gone cock-eyed
Characters: Freddy, Erik, Ahmed
Prompt: 026. Teammates.
Word Count: 517
Rating: O for Obnoxious Losers Ruining Trivia
Disclaimer: Don't own the prompts and I don't own Phantom of the Opera or any of the products, people, places or media referenced in the context of this fic. I'm doing this for fun, not making any profits.

One balmy evening in early August, Freddy abruptly decided that he wanted to bother Sorelli at work. Sorelli was employed during the evening shift at their local Applebee's. The reason for this was three-fold. One: He loved Sorelli. Two: He loved annoying Sorelli. Three: Sorelli didn't card them and Applebee's was the only place they were guaranteed, at the tender age of eighteen, to obtain alcohol.

Of course, drinking alone, illegally, at Applebee's was probably the most pathetic way to spent a Thursday night, so he often dragged his nearest and dearest friends along with him and since Erik and Ahmed had the least pressing social calendars, they were usually available and often amenable. Shocking? Not really. Thursday was Trivia Night and Erik relished any and all opportunities to show off. No matter that the prize was a $25 gift card to a restaurant and he didn't like eating, it was a matter of pride.

Their team, (Captain Jack and the Cybermen), usually cleaned up pretty week at Thursday Night Trivia, but tonight their was another team that was giving them a run for their money. This wouldn't normally be such a big deal, but tonight the rival team (The Lady Killas) was doing well. Really well. Far better than a group of five intoxicated 20-somethings should be doing and Erik was prepared to call shenanigans.

"They're using an iPhone!" he hissed angrily to Ahmed over the Appetizer Sampler. After consuming an electric blue beverage with a pineapple slice garnish and a generous shot of SoCo, Ahmed was utterly nonplussed.

"So, just pull out your phone. I mean, how the fuck else are we supposed to know the names of the three kids from Home Improvement?"

"Randy, Mark and Brad," Freddy supplied immediately, recording their response on the answer sheet.

"See?" Erik asked, pointing an accusatory finger at Freddy and nearly toppling the mozzarella sticks. "You're just supposed to know shit, look shit up!" This last comment was directed none too subtly at The Lady Killas who, predictably, just glanced at the pissed off teenager behind them and laughed.

"I didn't see any rules that said 'No Phones Allowed,'" one of them replied with a sickening shit-eating grin on his face. The gauntlet had been thrown. It was on. In other words, shit was going down.

Shooting his unworthy combatant a withering look, Erik folded his arms and countered, "There doesn't need to be rule, it's an unspoken matter of honor. A gentleman's agreement that crosses gender lines. You don't see people whipping their phones out for Jeopardy."

The drunk guy just sort of blinked at the lanky boy and shook his head. "Whatever. If you don't like the game, maybe you shouldn't play...are you old enough to be drinking?"

"Excuse me, the game is called trivia!" Erik exploded, absolutely irate. "Not research!" And he was prepared to say much more, but Freddy reached across the table and shook his arms, sacrificing his own sleeve to the spinach-artichoke dip in order to get Erik to shut up.