AN: Hi everyone! This is an idea that resulted from me looking through the AU tag of .com . It was originally going to be a one shot, but I think it's going to be a multichapter fic with an alternate meeting between Gazza and Scaramocuhe that follows through the end of WWRY. ANYWHO- here's my disclaimer! I do not own WWRY. I do not own the characters from the show. I do not have any association with Ben Elton or Queen. Hell, I don't even own this idea, it's from a freaking prompt. But, I do own the words, and, if I create any OCs, I own those too! As with any story on here, reviews are greatly appreciated, as it lets me know I have an audience and what people do or do not like!
Whenever someone mentioned Hell, all I could think of was high school. All I could picture in my mind was someday dying and forever being condemned to wander the halls of the Virtual School, surrounded by the Ga Ga Kids, with their vinyl clothing in an array of pastels and their cellphones and laptops constantly blaring that crap that Globalsoft's own little drone bees mindlessly programmed. Maybe throw in some flames lining the corridors. Then the image was perfect. Hell on Planet Mall and here I was, trapped there.
We were nearing the end of the term. I should feel elated, shouldn't I? After all, this was it. Just a few more weeks and I'd be done. Graduated. The problem was, I knew the future wasn't any brighter. Downloading my diploma into my laptop wouldn't mean that I was free. It wouldn't mean that there was any less control over my life. Rather, I'd get sucked further into the Globalsoft corporation. I'd have to pick some Ga Ga job and I'd be expected to try to blend into the crowd. The thought was sickening. It was hard not to wonder how the world had ended up in this state, all of it under the control of Killer Queen. There was no where to escape to, no place her power didn't reach…
I was pulled from my thoughts from a collision with another person. Expecting a garishly dressed Ga Ga, I looked up, surprised to see a boy I didn't recognize. He must have transferred from another class or another school or something. All I knew was that he wasn't one of those intolerable boys-r-us, duh-brained Boy Zone Boys. At least, he didn't look like it. Rather than the sleek precision associated with the majority of the citizens of Planet Mall, everything about this boy seemed to shout carefully planned chaos and disarray. His hair was stylistically messy, his jeans contained a few tears that he'd disregarded, and his thin, white tshirt was covered by a dark leather jacket. His brown eyes swiveled down to look at me and conveyed as much shock as I felt as he looked me over.
"S-Sorry," He stuttered, averting his eyes after a moment.
"No, it was my fault. I should pay attention…." I mumbled in response, apologizing for something for once in my life.
I could hear giggling from behind me and felt my jaw clenching. There could only be one source of that infuriating noise, the same Ga Ga Girls who constantly made me regret ever being born.
" Look girls," The one who seemed to be their leader said, voice nauseatingly sweet, despite the fact that whatever she was about to say was far from it. "I see the freaks have met. Isn't that sweet?"
"Sickeningly so," one with cotton candy blue hair replied. She placed extra emphasis on the word sickeningly in order to convey the fact that, in reality, she was disgusted by our existence.
My fists clenched now as I counted to ten in my head and took deep breaths. I could tell this boy wanted to say something, but he seemed to be at a loss for words.
At that moment, the door to the class room before us opened an the queue of students moved forward, everyone making their way into the Technical Studies classrooms and sitting down. I placed my plain black backpack on the floor and watched as the boy I'd spoken so briefly to made his way to stand beside the teacher's desk and waited as roll was called before handing a sheet of paper to the older woman, which was briefly glanced over before he was given a flashdrive from which to download the class text and directed to sit in the desk placed in the farthest corner of the room from mine. My eyes traveled over to the empty desk right beside me before journeying back over to him as I sighed. Of course, just my luck, the school maintained its hope of making a normal girl over me, they wouldn't have this new boy sit beside me and give me a reprieve from the Ga Ga World.
After brief instruction was given, we all stood and began to collect the supplies for our final projects, which we'd begun work on the previous week. Mine was a radio, simple enough, but far more advanced than anything my classmates had chosen to work on. I'd expected to complete it today, but currently my mind was so far from me that I couldn't seem to get a single piece properly into place. Rather, I set my screwdriver down and turned to look at the new boy.
Many of our classmates had moved their desks together and begun to chatter as they worked. Looking at the crowd between us, I couldn't help but feel as if we were two small, lonely islands, separated by not only the ocean, but also a mass of colorful, garish, obnoxious land. I couldn't really tell what his project was. Or, rather, what he intended it to be. He'd grabbed some fairly simple supplies, and I wasn't really sure if whatever he made out of them could actually be considered anything 'technical'. Silently, I watched as he picked up the empty lunch tin he'd gathered from the table in the front of the class and began to turn it over in his hands, observing it from every angle he could come up with. Then, he set it own once more, empty end up, and picked up a reel of plastic string and a bottle of super glue. He moved almost as if he were in a daze, carefully super gluing six lengths against the string so that they were pulled tightly across the top. Once he'd done that, he set the glue down and stared at the box in silence, waiting for it to dry.
That couldn't be it, could it? His grand project, worth a third of his final project was nothing but an old lunch box with plastic string attached? I was shocked. What was with this boy? Had he lost his marbles? Turning momentarily to the front of the class, I noticed that the teacher was also staring in his direction. In contrast to my shock, she seemed almost angry. I noticed her lean in toward him and turned quickly to watch him pick up the metal and plastic contraption. He continued to stare at it for a moment, situating the thing between his chest and one of his hands, then simply brought an index finger down across the strings. The result was a soft twang that carried to me over the chatter of the Ga Ga Kids and, for some reason, made my heart rate pick up.
A mere moment later, there was a loud scraping sound as our instructor pushed her chair back from her desk and rose to her feet, causing all of the students, myself included, to turn toward the front, a heavy silence falling over the room. She looked angrier now, and all of that anger was directed to the black haired boy in the far corner.
" Galileo Figaro!" She exclaimed, causing him to shrink back in his seat.
"Y-Yes?" He stammered in response, eyes widening a bit.
"What are you doing?"
"I-I don't k-kn-know…."
"Who taught you to do that?"
"Do what?" He exclaimed, genuinely confused.
"To attach string to an old lunch container like that! To pluck it!"
"N-No one," He replied. " I d-don't know why I did it, I j-just…" He trailed off, voice getting softer. "I just did…"
The woman's eyes narrowed as she stared down at him, seemingly evaluating his claim. The tense silence between them seemed to stretch on forever before she finally reached down and picked up the old box. "Regardless, this is not an acceptable project. You'll begin a new one." She turned on her heel and walked back toward her desk, pausing momentarily beside mine. "You, get to work!" She snapped, noticing that my eyes were still fixed across the room on Galileo.
"Sorry," I mumbled, turning and fixing my eyes on my own radio.