Day 10 - Phone Call
A/N: Marty finds history repeating itself as he has to save the day once again…at age forty-seven. Set during the good timeline in 2015.

His shoulders sagged with annoyance as he set his guitar aside, his peaceful living room now disturbed by the godawful ringtone his kids had set up for him. "What now?!"

The irritation quickly faded, however, when Marty saw the caller ID and realised what time it was. "Junior?"

That's odd.

That's really odd.

Junior never calls…he's one of those kids who has to text everything.

Aw shit, was I supposed to do the school pick-up today?!

No hang on, it's Tuesday. They do the bus on Tuesday. So why isn't he home yet? It's after four thirty!

Realising he should probably answer the phone instead of staring at it, Marty tapped the screen and put it on speaker. "Kid, did you forget to tell me about another tutoring session, or-"

"DAD!" Junior blurted out, seemingly out of breath. "Dad, oh my God…please! HELP!"

"Junior?" Marty's mind was buzzing with a thousand questions, though he tried to push aside the initial confusion and uneasiness. "Junior, wh-what's going on?" He's never sounded this scared before…

"Dad, p-please! T-They're too…fast…for me!"

"Who?! What's going on, kid?!" Marty couldn't help the panic rising in his voice. "Talk to me, Junior!"

"Dad, Dad he-mmph!"

Junior's voice disintegrated into unintelligible mumbles, with the unmistakable sounds of a struggle sending chills down Marty's spine. "Junior! Junior, what's going on?"

The audio cracked as Junior's phone seemingly tumbled out of his grasp and slammed into the ground. Marty could hear muffled screams in the background, as well as a few people laughing and jeering. "Junior, are you there?!"

"What the hell is this?" A young male voice sneered through the phone. "Awww, did you try ringing daddy to come and get you? How lame is this butthead?!"

Butthead?

I knew that voice was familiar. "Griff!"

"Sorry, but, uh, McFly can't come to the phone right now. He's a bit wound up at the moment!" Griff mocked, laughing hysterically before hanging up.

It's 'tied up', you dork! That's what all the kidnappers on TV say!

The older McFly ran a wrinkled hand through his ever-thinning hair, biting back a barrage of curses he wanted to unleash. Why didn't he just call the police?! Why ring me first?

A grim part of him already knew the answer. The police don't care about dealing with Tannens.

And I was so hoping both of the kids wouldn't get caught up in this 'rivalry' bullshit…

He carefully placed his guitar back in its stand before snatching his keys from the dining table, racing to the car with a bigger stride than what he thought he could achieve at his age. Been a while since we've had a McFly-Tannen showdown…

At first, he'd been confused when Marlene had tried to introduce him to the Find My Friends app. "How does this thing find you friends? Don't you have to talk to people for that?"

"Dad, that's not what it means-"

"Well, what's the point of it then?!"

"Dad, it's just called Find My Friends. It's a tracking app, not a social media."

"And what exactly does it track?"

"You, us, Mom; whatever you want to track, really, but most people use it to track their family members and stuff."

Sounds a bit stalker-ish, but whatever. "Can't I just…email you if I need to know where you are?"

"First of all, Dad, that's texting, not email," Marlene rolled her eyes. "And it's so you can track us without having to talk to us."

"…So if you guys aren't back by curfew, I can see if you've been kidnapped or whatever?"

Marlene nodded. "Pretty much, yeah."

He wished he hadn't used those exact words, but as he pulled into a parking space outside his old high school, he was now grateful for the newfound knowledge. The crisp evening air made his body involuntarily tremble once he left the cosiness of his Toyota, and he pulled the collar of his turtleneck sweater up further. No wonder the place is deserted, it's frickin' freezing out here.

Okay, so the phone reckons he's still near the school, so they must've grabbed him just after class finished. Marty tried to zoom in on the app, only to curse quietly as he accidentally closed the map. Screw this technology crap; I'll have to rely on old-fashioned detective work.

If I was an asshole, where would I hide my victim?…

The high school and its surroundings had barely changed in the thirty years since he'd graduated, still retaining the dated brick exterior and faded basketball courts. And while it meant his kids complained about how 'ancient' the place was, it also meant all of the nooks and crannies he used to employ to rid himself of Needles still existed.

He found himself strolling through a particular section of the car park that seemed oddly familiar, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why; at his age, all the memories he had of this place tended to blend into a murky haze that he had trouble deciphering.

It wasn't until he gazed at the nearby gymnasium from a certain angle that it clicked; this parking spot was where his father had laid Biff out sixty years prior. Although the lines had been repainted and the nearby trees uprooted, it was enough to give him a fresh wave of deja vu. And that's where the Packard was…and the band's car…Damn, this is heavy.

A faint chorus of laughter caught his attention, pulling him out of the spiral of memories. He listened for a moment before following the sound, fists poised in his pockets in case they were needed. Following the sound took him to the far corner of the school grounds, where the barbed wire fence disappeared and a gate to the maintenance sheds awaited him. The laughter grew louder as he passed through the gate, passing by a collection of narrow alleyways littered with graffiti and overflowing rubbish bins. This must be where Needles did all that crack-

A familiar chuckle startled him, as did the voice. "What, you think you could say no to us?!"

Swallowing nervously, Marty hesitantly peeked his head around the nearest alley corner, his jaw falling open at the sight. Holy shit! Junior!

If he hadn't seen what Junior had been wearing that morning, Marty wasn't sure he could've identified him. His son was thoroughly surrounded by four teenagers who obscured most of his body; all Marty could confirm from this angle was that his hands were restrained behind him, and that Griff was struggling with him in a headlock.

Marty found himself marching down the alleyway without taking the time to think of a plan or an escape route, and he decided he didn't care. This ends now. "HEY!"

His glare softened as the group of teenagers parted at the sound of his voice, allowing him to finally make eye contact with his son. Junior's right eye was now a black and bloodied mess, which complimented the bruise forming along his jawline. A dried trickle of blood extended from one of his nostrils, which Marty prayed wasn't from a broken nose.

The final straw that made his blood boil, however, was seeing the piece of bloodied tape firmly pressed over Junior's mouth. T-This isn't bullying! This is borderline murder!

"Do you bastards mind getting off my kid?!" Marty growled. Hang in there, buddy-

Griff looked up, his expression rapidly changing as he eyed Marty and gave him a disrespectful smirk. "Hey, piss off, you old fart! This don't concern you!" He grunted rudely, releasing the headlock and roughly pulling Junior's head back by the hair. The Tannen sniggered heartlessly at the muffled cry of pain from his captive. "Hey dork, looks like your grandpa is gonna come save you! How pathetic is that?!"

The other teenagers joined Griff in a chorus of mocking laughter, gripping Junior's body tightly as he made a fresh but weak struggle against them, eyes pleading for Marty to intervene.

The senior McFly's composure stiffened as he stormed towards Griff, fists ready at his sides. "For the record, Tannen, I'm his father." How old these assholes think I am?!

"Phhf! We're just having a bit of 'fun' with McFly here, aren't we?" Griff moved Junior's head in a nodding motion, grinning sadistically as the smaller boy gave a pained expression. "See? No need for you to hang around, old man."

Time to try this old nugget again. "Yeah, it's all good fun and shit, Griff, but you're forgetting one thing. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"

Falling for the bait, Griff turned his head away long enough for Marty pull his arm back and launch his knuckles directly into the young Tannen's jugular. All four teenagers lost their grip on Junior as Griff tumbled backwards into the alleyway wall, head cracking loudly against the bricks. "GAHH!"

Predictably, Griff's 'friends' took one look at Marty before they instantly turned on their heels and sprinted down the alleyway at a speed that would've rivalled the best Olympians, stumbling as they glanced back in fear of Marty pursuing.

Marty used the opportunity to swoop in and grab Griff by the collar, his eyes ablaze with fury as he prayed this would be the last time he had to be this close to one of Biff's relatives. "I thought I told you dumbasses to get off my kid?"

"M-Message received, loud and clear, McFly," Griff stuttered, the macho persona having evaporated completely. "P-Perfectly-"

Marty wasn't satisfied. He lowered his voice for dramatic effect, praying that it would work for him as it did for Clint Eastwood. "Do I need to make sure the police hear about this? I'm sure they'd love to put you down for kidnapping, assault…might even be able to get you for attempted murder."

The remaining colour in Griff's face evaporated "N-No sir, n-no need n-needed-"

"This isn't gonna happen again, is it?" Marty lifted a finger for emphasis, pointing towards Junior. "Or do I need to have a talk with your old man about how much of a gutless chicken his son is, picking on smaller men than him?"

"N-No, Mister McFly, i-it won't-"

"Good talk, Tannen. Water under the bridge already," Marty casually let go of the teenager's collar, watching with amusement as he scrambled away like a frightened chicken, disappearing around the opposite corner to where his goons had fled. "Say hi to your pop for me!"

The older man let out a quiet chuckle as he cradled his hand. God, that stings more than I remember. Still worth it though.

"Mmmhmm!"

Oh crap! "Junior!"

Marty made a dash to his son's side, ignoring the protests of his ageing joints as he knelt on the ground. He grabbed him under the armpits and hauled Junior into a sitting position, his heart breaking as he saw the mistiness brewing in his son's eyes. "Hey hey hey, bud, it's okay. It's all over, those bastards are gone."

His eyes were drawn to the ugly piece of black tape sealing Junior's lips shut, and he suddenly remembered the last time he'd come home with a suspiciously-red face. "Is this how they've been beating you?"

Junior sniffed quietly and nodded, eyes cast downward in shame.

I guess it's easier than holding him down, but still… "Geez, what a creep," Marty growled. "Maybe I should tell his dad that Griff's got a thing for bondage and see how well that goes down."

His spirits lifted as Junior gave him a muffled laugh. Good to know his sense of humour is still intact. "Right, let's get all of this of you."

He forced his fingernails underneath the adhesive and ripped it away before Junior had time to blink. Marty cringed as his son groaned, as well as the reveal of red, raw skin around Junior's mouth. Good thing he hasn't grown any facial hair yet. "Did they hurt you anywhere else?"

The younger McFly took a moment to regain his voice, stretching his newly-freed jaw. "…Holy shit, Dad! That was amazing!" Junior's face was alight with admiration. "I didn't know you could fight like that!"

He was surprised at his son's reaction, though he kept that thought private as he inspected the ropes binding Junior's hands. I only punched him once, but still… "Givin' your old man some credit, huh?" Marty quipped. "Told you I used to be good."

"That was so cool though!" Junior shifted his position, making it easier for Marty to reach the knots. "I've never seen Griff act like a whimp before!"

As heartwarming as it was to have his son praise him, Marty decided it was time for answers. "What happened, Junior? Why'd they gang up on you like that?"

Junior gazed numbly at his lap, cheeks blushing as red as his jacket. "Um, well…that's kinda the second time today they've jumped me-"

"What?! Junior, what's-"

"It was in-between classes! T-They wanted me to help them with this 'heist' or whatever. Said they'd make it 'worth my while'," Junior blurted out bitterly.

This is sounding awfully familiar. "…And I'm guessing you said no?"

"Yeah. I, uh, I-I told them to go to hell the first time, a-and to leave me alone the second, but, uh," Junior shrugged his shoulders, gesturing at his current predicament. "They, uh, didn't like those answers."

So even in this timeline, he says no! That's my boy! Marty allowed himself a private smile before voicing his thoughts. "You mean, Griff didn't like your answers."

Junior blinked for a moment. "Oh. Yeah. His friends didn't say much about it; it was all him."

Marty shook his head, muttering as he fumbled with the knots. "They never change…"

"Who?"

"Biff. Needles. Griff. Despite the age gaps, they're all the same: cowardly idiots who use intimidation and violence to get people to do what they want," Marty explained. "Even in my workplace there's a few guys like that, though we don't go fighting each other like teenagers."

"So there's always gonna be people like them?!" Junior's voice carried a hint of despair. "Then what's the point?"

"The point is," Marty undid the last of his son's bonds, shoving the coil of rope into his pocket, "that you stood up to them. You didn't let them bully you into something you didn't wanna do. And I'm proud."

Junior stopped scratching the rope burns on his wrists, gazing at his father in surprise. "R-Really?"

"Really."

"B-But I couldn't fight them off! I-"

"Physical strength doesn't matter when it comes to bullies, Junior," Marty said gently, tilting Junior's face towards him. "They may be able to physically beat you, yes, but the one thing they cannot fight against is a victim who won't play along with their delusions. That's how your Grandpa George manage to win against Biff, Griff's dad, despite having the muscles the size of a twig. And it surprised the bastard enough to stay off of dad's back for good."

Geez, do I sound like a preacher or what?

Junior thought quietly for a few moments before nodding his understanding. "…T-Thanks again, Dad. F-For saving me."

"All good, kid. Just you wait until Grandpa George and I pay Griff and his dad a visit," Marty snickered, groaning as he hoisted himself and Junior up from the freezing pavement. "He'll be sorry he ever even looked at you."

Junior adjusted his cap before giving his father a questioning look. "Are you gonna kick his ass too?"

"Who? Biff?"

"Yeah!"

Marty snickered, his thoughts taking him back to the night of the Under the Sea Dance. "Nah. We broke his nose once and that was more than enough."

"Wait, seriously?!"

Shit. Probably shouldn't have said that. He shrugged off his overcoat and tucked Junior's shivering form into it. "Come on, kiddo. Let's get you cleaned up and get some ice for that eye, and then you can help me figure out which chord progression to use for this song I'm workin' on."

"Sweet!…But how the hell did you break his nose?!"

Marty wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders, pulling him in fondly. "I'll tell you when you're older, Junior."

You're gonna need a few drinks to make sense of it all, anyway.