Chapter Two
Notes: so, the first like 6 chapters will be dedicated to the back stories. Then there will be more about Monroeville.
If you would want a picture of how we're depicting the Titans, or Monroeville, just ask in a review and we'll put it on DeviantArt/Photobucket for ya'
I'm not sure how well this chapter will turn out. I have almost no inspiration for the Beast Boy part of it. Sorry to all of his fan girls/guys out there!
Disclaimer: According to Damian, the sex-ified fiend, I don't own the Teen Titans, but apparently I have all rights to Monroeville and this plot line. :Shibby dance for me:
Reviews/Flames: Reviews loved; faithful reviewers will get a cookie the size of their head! Flames about the couples I picked will be laughed at and posted here for others to mock. Flames on my lack of skill, will be used to heat my bedroom. My fanfiction mascot seems to think that I'm trying to turn her into a Popsicle.
Remarks: AlsoSprachOdin – thanks for the first review! In the states you become an adult at the age of 18, until then parents can do what they want if it for the best interest of the child. As for the 6's or 7's thing, I didn't actually check with my Damian who is a Jinx despite the whole penis thing about his rating on this whole chicks thing. But, yeah it should have been like 8's and 9's. The building for Monroeville is rather large. There are three levels. It is set in San Francisco where the tower is in the series. I do have these really rough sketches in my one notebook, so if you want them I could upload them.
The Story Begins…
Garfield Logan aka Beast Boy
You know those cheesy montages when someone is drunk as all hell? Where it's really fast with neon lights, naked women and kegs of beer. In the background its crappy techno music and the main character cannot remember anything afterwards?
Yeah, that was my entire preteen and teen life.
I loved partying, hanging out with my friends and dancing with some super hot babe. I would wake up the next morning, my bed inhabited by some random chick and a couple bottles of whatever we poured down our throats. She would turn over in my bed, and I would try to find something to get rid of this hangover. So I would pick up a bottle of whatever I could find, there was this old myth that if you could stomach whatever you drank the night before, you'd be fine.
That's how I spent my last morning of freedom. Waking up next to What'sherface, a petite blonde she took all the blankets. I chugged some of the vodka, while trying to wake up. What'sherface got out of my bed, while pulling on some clothes.
"See ya at school Beast Boy." She winked at me, as I laid back in my bed, nursing the bottle slightly. It was the only thing that kept me that happy and fun life of the party. So what if I was smashed half the time? I was fun to be around. I had a ton of friends, half of them trashed my house and someone even puked in the piano…but they were my friends. I got out of bed, while making myself decent. A pair of forest green hemp boxers as I checked myself in the mirror. Dyed green hair, slightly spiked in the front, I looked a little pale, but still as olive as ever. I was kinda little; wiry muscles but strong nonetheless. Once I was decent, I opened the heavy mahogany door. There was a group of colorful rubber bands around the outside handle, the universal signal that I had a lady in the room. The expensive, puke stained carpet felt odd under my bare feet, as I stepped over piles of bottles and empty cups.
I looked over the balcony, while looking down to my living room. Half of the school was passed out on the furniture and floor. The music had long since been turned off, and I held in a slight laugh. Not a bad party for a Friday night, the police were only called twice and no one jumped off the roof again to make the world's largest canon ball splash into the pool. Now, to get ready for work. I went back into my room, while getting dressed. Baggy camouflage pants and a light blue PETA shirt. The party animal with a soft spot.
Party animal.
Beast Boy.
I got the nickname last year, when I got shit-faced drunk and had a five some with the head cheerleader, her twin sister, a teacher and a police officer. I was a beast in the sack. I liked my nickname, hell it was better then Garfield.
Yes. The sad truth. The party king of Titans High was named after a morbidly obese pussy.
I pulled out my cell phone, while calling the cleaning service. Speed dial 2.
I could hear a groan in the background as I gave them my address. This was a biweekly thing. We partied Friday and Saturday, then spent Sunday doing whatever we had to do. Me? My Sundays were dedicated to keeping my buzz going and trying to pass my junior year of High School. It wasn't looking so good. I've been busted twice for coming to school drunk. One more time and I can kiss the hallowed halls of Titans High: Home of the Fightin' Titan, good-bye. Of course dear old Mom and Dad never cared enough to even notice I was suspended. They just went out on business trips, came home, went to work and left again. if I ever saw them it would be amazing. I went into the kitchen, while pouring some leftover whatever into a water bottle. This would get me through work. I made sure the lid was on while seeing some people start to get up.
"Make sure to lock up before ya' leave!" I called while hearing someone groan. Close enough to "okay" I grabbed my bottle and the keys, time to alphabetize Video Games and help no-nothing mothers buy presents for their teenaged sons.
My crap car sat in the garage, as I stepped over puke puddles on the grass. A few older neighbors were standing out front of their house, complaining. They were too loud for this early in the morning! I put my hands over my ears, just trying to unlock my damn car. There were scratch marks from drunken attempts to unlock it. This was no different. I finally got into the car, while taking a sip from a water bottle. It felt good going down my throat. Slightly burned, but felt amazing all the same. I put the car into reverse, while backing out into the street. My least favorite neighbor the main person to call the cops on us stood on his lawn, an ancient man by all standards. He looked like a mummy in any horror movie, truly gross and should just be put out of his misery.
"Garfield! Don't think that I'm not going to tell your parents as soon as they get home!" he shook this cane at my car. I contemplated running him over. It would be nice, get that idiot to leave me alone. I flipped him off, while speeding down the street. Taking deep drinks from my water bottle, while leaning against the headrest. I let my car take control. I trusted my baby. My head swam as I let go of the steering wheel.
"Take me to work, Kit." I drank the last bit of the mystery liquid as my car went into incoming traffic. The rest of a blur. From what I've been told, I was hit by another car. It shot me out of the car, and I landed on the bed of some truck. The doctors were shocked I wasn't killed. But, the truck I landed on…was filled with some forest green dye.
Permanent.
Green.
Dye.
The dyes seeped through my clothes and dyed my whole body green.
I laid in the hospital bed, while waiting for my friends to flood my room. The hottest babes the school had to offer tending to my every whim while dressed as a sexy nurse. No one showed up. I laid in that bed for almost a month. My parents were in and out. They found out I was in the accident because of my five-year streak of being drunk. I was sober in that room and I hated it. Mom came into the room, while holding onto a white pamphlet.
"Your father and I can't handle this Garfield."
"So I got a little drunk, it's no big deal mom."
"We're going to send you away for a little bit, baby. Monroeville will help you get better."
Monroeville? What kind of place was that? I wasn't sick or anything? I just liked getting drunk. I liked getting shit-faced and not having to feel anything.
"What for?"
"They'll help you with your alcoholism."
Alcoholic? I was not! The desire and the need to be drunk was normal for me. They were going to send me to a place where they would make me be sober and talk about my feelings? I don't think so. Mom stood up, while kissing my forehead. "Your father and I will see you on Parents' Day." I crossed my now green arms across my chest, while glaring at the wall. She was giving up on me. Sending me away to make herself seem like a glorified saint.
Next thing I knew, these huge men came into the room and packed my shit.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled, as they helped me out of bed.
"We're taking you to Monroeville." They sounded like drones. Talking at the same time. I put on my shoes, while thinking of different ways to get a good buzz going there. Maybe some of the adults will be willing to help me out, I doubted it…but a guy can dream.
I got into a jet-black car, while sandwiched between the Drone-Dudes. I tried to convince them to make a stop at a bar. One last party before I get sober. They just looked ahead and gave directions to the man driving. I leaned back, while taking a look at my new skin. The doctors tried everything, and nothing could make the dyes get off. I kinda liked it. My hair was green, my eyes were green and now so was the rest of me. The car stopped and I looked around. It was a white building with high pillars. The whole place was surrounded by a thick forest and an iron fence. There was a tall man standing at the door. He had a thin cane in one hand and a manila folder in the other. He had cherry red hair, a white with that British flag on it.
"Ello duckie." You've got to be kidding me. "You must be Garfield, I'm Mod. I'll be your leader 'round these parts, so listen up." He opened the envelope, while reading off the list. "You can't drink while you're here, you can't do anything naughty at all. We do 'ave rules in this place." He snapped his fingers as Drone-Dude brought my bag to the red-head.
"What are you doing?" I shouted as he opened the bag, he checked my clothes while nodding.
"Checking for contraband, so my little Duckie, you get five pairs of pants, five shirts, and two pairs of shoes. Your skin, from what I've been told, cannot be changed, but we would like your hair to go back to a normal color."
I rolled my green eyes while picking back up my hemp bag. "Anything else, Mod?" the red-head shook his head, while opening the doors.
"Welcome to your new 'ome, Duckie." I followed this rather tall man up two flights of stairs while seeing a few other guys sitting in what looked like their bedroom. I was brought to the second room, as I saw a bunk bed, two dressers and a desk.
"Down to the bare minimums, eh?" I placed my bag on the top bunk as Mod ruffled my green hair.
"Just give a call if you need anything. Your schedule will be posted outside of your room everyday, and your roommate, uhh…" he checked his folder again "Victor Stone, should be in later today." I nodded while sitting up on my bed. This was the end of my teen life. No one even came to see me in the hospital.
Did I even have any friends?
Victor Stone aka Cyborg
I had to wait until the locker room cleared out. Hanging by the showers and trying to make the sticky smelly sweat get away from my body. Football toned muscles, the hot water felt amazing. I grabbed my bar of soap, working it into a rich lather.
No one could know.
No one would ever believe it.
I worked hard. Straight 'A' student, collages were already banging down my door. I was going to play football for whatever school gave me the coolest things. Who ever paid the most. Mom and Dad died when I was little, so I couldn't ask Gran'ma to pay for it. She already did enough.
I washed the soap off me, while hearing the last guy leave. Calling back that I had to lock up. I turned off the shower, while wrapping my fluffy white towel around my waist. I was a six foot eight tall football player. African-American, slate gray eyes and rocking the no hair look. I did one last check for everyone to be gone. This was something I could not risk getting out. I'd be kicked out of school. hell, kicked out of my family if anyone found out. I'd be dead.
The fame I felt everyday, just walking down the hallway at school. The glory I received after every game. The girls who would throw themselves at me, the guys who wanted to be just like me. It was great. Made high school much more bearable. The coach loved me. The classes were made easy-peasy so I could keep winning the games for the school. bending rules was fun, but this…this would get me killed.
Once I made sure the locker room was completely empty. I took out my kit. Deep inside my book bag, under the passed tests, under the funky smelling three week old lunch was a black bag. I unzipped it, and saw my needle and the glass bottle. This was my vice. I needed it to get better. I had to have it if I wanted any success whatsoever. I had to be able to take on those massive mountains of human flesh if I wanted to go pro. Sure I was good, but I had to be better. I couldn't let anyone down. I had to do this. I put the needle into the bottle, while sucking up some of it. No one could know.
I counted to three in my head,
One.
Two.
Three…
It was in. I pressed the stopper down, while feeling the liquid shoot into my body. I took it out, while using a baby wipe to clean off the needle. I shook my body slightly, still getting used to the feeling.
I'm not even all that sure how this got started. I think it was when I missed a pass during a game against our rival school. everyone hated me for weeks. So, I started thinking about it. I could talk my way out of the routine piss checks. I could do anything to sweet talk to coach. The team noticed how much better I was after the first time. They begged to know my secret. They pleaded for me to let them back in my good graces. What would be better then football legend Victor Stone being your best friend? They didn't mind my slight changes in behavior. They didn't care that I was getting more and more pissed off over the dumbest shit. So long as I kept winning games, I could do whatever I wanted.
Right now, all I wanted was to be a professional.
I packed up my stuff, and locked up the locker room. I twirled the keys on my finger, while feeling good. I used to get sick, now it just made me feel alive.
By the time I got home, I had to run around or do something. Gran'ma sat at the kitchen table, doing her crossword puzzles as usual. She kissed me on the cheek, while smiling at me. she asked the usuals. How practice was. What did I learn in school. her sickly sweet voice just made my head numb. I put down my bag, while grabbing a basketball under the table.
"It's like I never see you anymore, Cyborg." She started calling me that when I started football. She said it was like I was part robot, the amount of pressure I put on myself. How I always wanted to be perfect.
"I'm in training, Gran. I'm going out to shoot some baskets. Don't wait up okay?" I kissed her on the cheek. Sure, I felt terrible for lying to my grandmother, but it was for her own good. She rolled her eyes, as I walked out the front door.
The court was only down the street. I could feel everything I put into my body pumping through my veins. I couldn't feel anything anymore. I didn't see anything. My life was completely about making this next basket. About scoring the next touchdown. About being the perfect person. Someone that my parents would've been proud of. Someone I could be proud of at the very least. I dribbled the ball, while jumping into the air. My muscles screamed from the wear and tear I've put them through.
When I came back to earth, Gran'ma was standing on the court. She looked so out of place, her silver hair pulled back into a loose bun. A black bag in her hand as I dropped my ball. "I was going to wash your jersey, when I found this…Victor what have you done?" I sat down on the bench, while putting my head in my hands.
"It's no big deal, Gran." She slapped me in the face as I clenched my fists. What the hell? She was always the one gushing on and on about how proud she was. showing off pictures of my father in his school jersey. Making me feel like I could be nothing by comparison.
"Like hell it is, Victor. Do you know what this will do to you?"
Great speed.
Amazing skills.
Become the greatest quarterback Titans East High School has ever seen.
"Since when do you curse?" never, in the seventeen years of my existence did I ever hear her even say an oh my goodness.
"Since when do you use steroids?" she yelled as I clasped a hand over her mouth. If anyone found out I would be dead. She moved my hand away, while stomping off towards our house. I could hear her drop my bag on the asphalt and step on it with her slipper clad foot. Shattering my precious bottle and destroying my needle. Now what was I going to do? Actually get by on exercise and training? I needed that extra edge. I craved that amazing skill it gave me.
when I got home, a few hours later…she wasn't alone. There were two other men standing with her. They were my size, and standing there with her. Discussing the programs that some placed called Monroeville had to offer.
"What's going on, Gran'ma?" I dropped the ball by my feet as she stood up. She folded her dark arms across her chest while biting her lower lip.
"You need to get help, Vic." I couldn't believe it, my own dear sweet Gran'ma was, what? Going to send me away? One of the two men picked up a duffle bag with the Nike symbol on the side. What were they doing with that?
"Gran, can't we just forget this?"
"Will you stop?"
"No…"
"Then, you have to go, Victor." Just one more time I wanted her to call me Cyborg. Just make me feel like she really loved me. I knew she didn't anymore. Why else would she send me away? Give up on me and kick me out? All for a little bit of a boost. I punched the wall, while feeling my knuckle split and bleed. Gran started to yell at me. Victor stop that. Victor your crazy. Victor Stone! I hit the wall again while feeling the large men try to rush me. pining me to the ground as I tried to hit them. Flung myself around, that famous Stone temper getting the best of me. I thrashed around on the ground, feeling something being inserted into my stomach.
So…
Sleepy…
When I woke up, there was an all green guy staring at me. poking me and jumping back after each prod. I put my hands on my head, while making sure all my body parts still worked. The green kid smiled, I started to wonder if I was seeing things right. He was green? I was alone in a room after being knocked unconscious with a mother fuckin' pixie.
"I'm Beast Boy, what'cha in for?" I looked over to him, as he was suddenly hanging upside down, this goofy smile plastered on his face. I almost questioned how and why he was hanging upside down, but the splitting headache was a more pressing issue. I didn't even wonder why he called himself Beast Boy. Then again, what kind of nickname was Cyborg? "I drink too much, but that doesn't matter to me. I figure the second I get out of here, I'll get shit-faced like never before." He smiled as I sat up, careful not to hit my head on the top bunk. The room was light blue, with two dressers and a desk. Clothes already spewed out of one of the dressers. Belonging to Beast Boy he supposed.
"Beast Boy? I think I'm just going to call you B." the green kid smiled while sitting up right, he smiled while testing the nickname out for himself.
"B…I like it… what do they call you?"
"Cyborg." He scrunched his nose slightly, before smiling again.
"Looks like we're inmates together Cy. Might as well make the best of it." I unpacked my bag, while seeing a man with cherry red hair standing at the door. "Not him again…" I could hear BB groan as he scurried up the ladder and hid on his bed.
"Ello my duckie, glad to see you out and about." This guy's accent was so thick; I had an issue even understanding it. Just nod and agree, Victor, just nod and agree. "Now we 'ave some rules in this place, so listen up." He told me about the appropriate amount of clothes to have. About the rules of the building. How I was banned from the weight room and contraband checks were everyday, randomly.
This would be great.
Sarcasm meter off the charts.
Chapter two!
Complete!
Woot. Alright, so I hope you guys liked this chapter. I worked really hard on it and well yeah. Um…fair warning, there will be a lot of smut in future chapters. Mainly with Jinx, just because she's a ho'fo'sho.
These chapters should be coming more and more, but I am starting my senior year of H.S and I'm trying not to get that whole senioritis. Contagious and infectious disease. Lol.
Dedication: as always, much love to my baby girl for putting up with my obsessing over this fic.
xoxo,
Jenn