So I finished reading Legend a few days ago, and it was pretty awesome! It's too bad the fandom for it is so small; so I figured I'd help it expand a bit. I've got the beginnings of a multi-chapter plot brewing, but for now this is what I ended up writing. The idea came to me as soon as June saw the misspelled words; essentially, my own idea of why Metias handwrites his journals. Enjoy :)

Metias sat heavily into the chair and took a deep breath, focusing the intensity of his gaze on the sole object in front of him. The computer monitor glowed softly as pale streaks of colour flashed across its surface; a screen saver, one June had set for him. Junebug. For the first time, the enormity of the information he was about to place in the computer's memory for her to find when she was ready was incredible; how could he ask his younger sister to accept this information, to bear the burden of what it might entail for the future of the city. But he had to do it, someone else had to know. Besides, she wouldn't be alone to carry the horrors of the knowledge; he'd always be there for her.

With that thought in mind, he stretched out his fingers, hesitating for one more second before laying one hand on the mouse and opening a document. With a heavy sense of finality, he began to type. The journal itself was relatively meaningless, recounting one time when a young June had hidden herself in the fridge, trying to find out what made the light turn off and on. He smiled at the memory; always trying to figure things out, that was his sister. But anyways, much more important was a word, the word he had to purposely misspell in order to leave the code that would lead to the blog containing all the important information he had uncovered thus far.


The rest of the journal he wrapped up quickly (after all, the contents weren't terribly important) and he was about to move on to the next one when something caught his eye.


Spelled correctly.

He narrowed his eyes at the computer screen and hovered the mouse over the word before inserting the extra 'd' back in. There, just as he wanted it. He clicked back to the end of the journal, hurriedly typing out a final sentence, but before he could finish something rather hard to ignore caught his eye. A thin, but very obvious squiggly red line, travelling underneath his misspelt word. He rolled his eyes at the computer's attempt to get him to notice the error and make the correction and went back to his concluding sentence, but try as he might he just couldn't overlook the red line. Every time he was supposed to be focusing on finishing his task, his eyes unconsciously wandered back up to the spot where the misspelled word was being emphasised. Really, this spell check was being unnecessarily obnoxious. Just ignore it, Metias, he told himself, gritting his teeth and trying to concentrate. Ignore, just ignore, don't look up, don't even think about that irritating squiggly line defacing what is supposed to be an encoded document holding the key to the secrets of the city, just ignore it and eventually it'll go away.

Unfortunately, the spell check system does not work like this, and Metias quickly found that he was unable to hold in his annoyance any longer. "Fine," he whispered venomously under his breath. If the stupid computer wanted to behave like this, then he'd play along. Returning the mouse to the oh-so-annoying scarlet squiggle, he hovered over the word and swiftly right-clicked. Immediately a box popped up, offering him suggestions such as refrigerator and refrigerators. Hah, Metias thought smugly as he selected the ignore button, perhaps pressing slightly harder than necessary on the mouse as he did so. Take that you freaking machine.

Well, all was once again right in the world; the document was perfectly colourless, black text on a white page without a hint of any annoying colours such as a certain bright, obnoxious red. Returning to the last sentence of the journal, he began to type again before a very certain line appeared once again.

It was back.

His fist and teeth both clenched, as if he thought that the spell check was some sort of real object that he could fight. But alas, it existed solely in the computer, and the inability to stop it was probably what contributed to the large amount of irritation he was feeling. At least when hunting criminals like Day, you could feel like you were actually doing something, even if the results weren't exactly positive; setting traps, searching for suspected targets, etc. But with this achingly horrible thing some idiotic human had invented as a way of supposedly making lives easier, Metias was completely at its mercy.

Unless . . .

Ignore all, Metias thought, clicking the button of the same title before grinning superiorly at the computer monitor. Looks like you've been beaten, you nasty little thing, he thought, but the smug grin soon faded from his face as he glanced at the computer's clock. Had he really spent that much time on the one journal? Damn, he'd been planning on trying to get a bunch done but at this rate, June or Thomas might get back to the house before he was done. We'll just have to speed up the process, he thought, laying his fingers once again on the sleek, silver keyboard.

Oh, Metias, how we all wish it could be that easy.

"Sir?" Thomas peered around the corner of the open door. Metias never left the door unlocked unless he was home, so he must be somewhere in the seemingly abandoned apartment. "Sir?" He stepped into the house, feeling slightly awkward at the idea of invading Metias's privacy, but what if something was wrong? Sure enough, Thomas's ears soon picked up odd sounds coming from the room where his boss normally did all his computer work, but as he neared the area he realised that they were more a mixture of swears and angry muttered comments then noises of distress. What was going on? "Sir?" he called out one more time before glancing around the corner of the room.

Inside sat Metias, sure enough, at his computer, looking mightily peeved about something and grumbling viciously under his breath. "Damn autocorrect . . . no I don't want to change it to emanating . . . oh yeah? Well how about I just add it to the dictionary, huh? What are you going to do about that?"

Thomas cleared his throat and Metias jumped before whirling around to see him standing in the doorway. "Um, hello sir," Thomas said, slightly nervous; there was definitely something distinctly wrong with his boss. "I knocked, but no one answered. I thought something might have happened." He bit his lip, trying to decide on a casual way to approach the situation. "Are you doing any of your hacking work?"

"Oh, no, no. Just . . . writing some journals."

"Ah." They lapsed into awkward silence before Thomas finally decided to dig deeper. "What seems to be the problem, exactly?"

Metias hesitated for the slightest second, but in the cloud of raging irritation that had settled over him he forgot about being cautious with his information. "Look," he said, turning back to the computer screen as Thomas took a few steps closer. "Every time I type in emamating it automatically changes it! I've just about had it with this thing."

"Erm, sir," Thomas began, not entirely sure if it was in his place to correct someone of a higher position than he was. "You do know that emamating isn't a word, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Then . . . why are you trying to write it down?"

Metias blinked, finally realising exactly what information he might be sharing with Thomas. "What? Oh, I'm not . . . Why would I do something like that?" He leaned back in the chair, trying to act normal. "Me, misspell a word on purpose? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Right." Thomas glanced at his employer concernedly. "Well, I'm going to go, er, call someone." Like a doctor so we can have your head examined. "Would you mind if I left for a moment?"

Metias waved his arm dismissively. "No, no, go ahead." He put on an overly cheery, fake smile as Thomas left, looking over his shoulder at his somewhat deranged boss once more before exiting the room. Then Metias sighed with relief and defeat, slowly turning back to the computer and placing his head in his hand. "Fine," he said after a small period of contemplation, glancing back up at computer screen. "You win. Hand writing them all would be faster than this."

Decisively, he wiped the entire document clean and picked up a spare journal and a pen that happened to be on his desk. But before he left, he couldn't resist typing one final thing across the page, a tired grin appearing on his face. "Oh, look, no red line appearing here. Sucker." He laughed once, then got up, leaving the screen on as he too, exited the room.

If anyone were to have looked on the screen, they would have seen Metias's final message. But the annoyance at constantly suffering from those glaring red lines had really gotten to him, and though he hadn't misspelled any words, his message still seemed somewhat off.

Dam you autocorrect

And slowly, without anyone present to witness it, a squiggly line of a rather obnoxious green colour began to appear beneath the first word.