Happy, despite the situation with Tommy, was allowed to return home, but he fought everyone; he'd broken a rib after Russell tackled him, and Cam was trying to heal it... however, he insisted on struggling. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional trauma he suffered from Tommy's words, 'crazy.' It repeated in his head, over and over again. This word haunted him.
"Please hold still. Or your injuries won't heal properly." Cam attempted to calm him, but that was not enough to make him sit.
"Do you have to do that? This hurts," Happy whined. His leg was propped up on a chair as Russell awarded him an ankle monitor, ensuring he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. "Don't do this to me... please."
"You did this to yourself, Happy," Russell reaffirmed, putting the finishing touches on his work. "There. Now. A few rules. If you leave this shop or your apartment upstairs. Security will be alerted, and you will be arrested. It has a built-in shifting inhibitor; I'm sure you already know what that does. If you attempt to tamper with this device, that will also alert security, so don't get any funny ideas; 'Mr. I know how to break into computer terminals.' Do you understand?"
Happy decided to start bargaining with Russell, "B—but Rus. I'll be good, I swear. I was just so furious... but I've learned my lesson now. Please don't do this."
Russell interjected. "Sure. In six months, I'll believe you. Is this comfortable?" Russell asked Happy.
Happy was horrified. He was completely unhinged and didn't seem to want to respond.
Russell addressed the father after Happy refused to react. "Okay... Mr. Riley, I am now releasing Happy into your custody. But he's on thin ice. If he continues acting up, it's going to be a stay in the rubber room with Cameron."
"Don't call it that. It's a psychiatric facility, and the walls are lined with cushions of anti-impact foam, not 'rubber.' You'll scare him." Then Cam mumbled, "But... I suppose you're used to scaring people, aren't you?" He referenced last night with a salty attitude, still angry about Russell's words.
"What?" Russell questioned, raising an eyebrow; of course, he heard Cam. His ears weren't just for show; he wanted to see if Cam had the gull to repeat himself.
"Nothing." Cam sighed as he put all the equipment back into his pack and put it back on, ensuring the straps were secured. "I'll be giving him counseling from here, not in medical," Cam reassured Happy's father with an understanding smile.
"Yeah... I get it." Riley sighed. He showed the duo out of the shop and wished them well. "There... you've made a mess of things and have embarrassed yourself in front of the entire ship. I don't even know what to say to you. Just... go upstairs." Riley pointed to the staircase; he seemed exhausted; he had reason to be, combined with the trouble of trying to run his shop and worrying about his son.
Happy shuffled along, actually following commands for once.
"Wait." Riley stopped him just as he started on the first step.
"Yeah..?" Happy turned to face his father.
"Give it to me." Riley held his hand out, patiently waiting for Happy to turn over the item that started this mess.
"Really, Pop? Really..?" Happy asked, quite annoyed that his father would continue to insist that the comic was the issue here. He mocked his father by laughing at him for a brief moment. "Yeah, right. That's not happening." Happy responded rebelliously.
"Yes, it is. That's where this all started, and I'm going to end it," Riley continued; he waited for Happy to comply.
"It's mine; you can't have it," Happy snipped. He turned to leave and started to run up the stairs, but his father was quick to grab hold of his arm. "No, get off me!"
Happy struggled, of course, but Riely wouldn't let up. "Stop it," Riley commanded firmly as he restrained Happy with one arm and reached behind his sash into his hidden pocket with the other; he pulled out the comic and immediately started ripping it up.
Happy screamed and tried to reach over his father's head like he was trying to swim out of an ocean that was drowning him. He tried to save what was left, if there was anything left at all.
He was too late, and he was too small. All the pages were now shredded and promptly tossed in the air like a snowstorm, little white pieces of paper dancing all over the room. The pieces expanded the room's length. Even the ventilation system sucked in some of the remnants of the comic and carried them to god knows where. "There. It's gone. No more, Tommy." Riley said calmly, dusting his hands of all evidence. "Now go upstairs and lay down." Riley firmly insisted.
Happy watched as his father destroyed nearly six months of hard work. He flipped out and stomped up the stairs. He was cussing but not using the common vulgar language that one would expect; he was still a juvenile and, therefore, not allowed to cuss. He used language he'd generated on his own, silly words like 'Fudgemuffin' and 'Frak.' Silly things. He was always silly.
Riley watched his son vanish, gritting his teeth and cringing at his son's words. While they weren't technically 'bad' words, he knew what Happy meant by them. He was less offended and more worried about his son's mental well-being, growing more and more concerned every time Happy opened his mouth. Once Happy was out of sight, Riley drew the shop shades and covered the room in darkness; they were closed for the day. Then he sank into the nearest chair, rubbing his temples. The weight of the situation bore down on him almost as much as it bore down on Happy, and he struggled to find solace in the silence of the shop, which usually wasn't difficult for him; after all that happened... the dynamic certainly altered quite a bit. It was not as calming as it was before... not as warm.
Back upstairs, Happy logged onto the terminal and drafted a letter apologizing to Tommy for his behavior. He wanted him to know just how sorry he was—about everything, something longwinded and overly apologetic. He wanted him to know he didn't mean to say that he hated him. But as soon as he went to push send, his terminal responded in big lettering that flashed continuously, submerging the dark room in red as it continued to flash.
'BLOCKED.'
Happy went teary-eyed. He'd flip out about it later. Happy was a failure; he was humiliated, but there was one thing that might make him feel better: Happy shuffled over to his bunk and lifted the bed, the hydraulics underneath giving way to a cavity that stored his personal items, most notably his Tommy sanctum, his own personal storage space on the entire ship.
There were dozens of Tommy holoimages, some found in the ship's database, and others were taken by Happy and manufactured with the synthesizers. That was paired with all of the information he could collect about his life, personal friends, favorite color, workout routine, all of it. No matter how insignificant it was, it didn't matter. If it applied to Tommy, it was on the bunk. Happy was certainly a stalker. He took out his favorite picture—the best one he had. He closed his bed and sat on its edge, his legs dangling off the end of it. He stared at the photo. He was overwhelmed with anger, sorrow, and confusion. What should he do now? This new burden of the ankle monitor... It was heavy— it weighed 100 tons. It was quite literally the embodiment of Tommy screaming to be left alone, and Happy had no choice but to do just that.
YOU ARE READING
Number One Fan
FantascienzaWith a ship as large as the Kori. It's no secret that some people just don't really fit in. And Happy is one of them. He annoys EVERYONE! He's an outcast! And his father can't control him! Unfortunately for Tommy, Happy just happens to be his number...
