Chapter 43: Nadine Roman
After the formation of the Fight Club, the readers started to slowly divide themselves into groups.
First were the ones who agreed with Tyler completely.
Second were the ones who thought he was too extreme.
And finally, the third group that challenged his ideology, pointing out the flaws and problems with it.
Damnboyrocks—Mom, I wanna be like Tyler Durden when I grow up.
Chevisito—No, you don’t bro. *Crying Fujino
TheOilyReader—You should totally do it. I punched my abusive boss after years of harassment, and it’s the best I’ve felt in years.
Bob685014—That is not something to post online.
TheOilyReader—There is video proof of it anyway. He used to threaten that there were thousands like me, that I was replaceable. Fucker thought he could press charges, but the company doesn’t want drama. Looks like he is the same as me for the company. I had taken the abuse thinking I had no chance, but I see a way forward now. I feel confident in myself again, and I will do it again.
BlickSaint—Damn, I wanna rip the hair of my Karen landlady man. She always picks on me for the littlest things.
.
.
.
TheRealStark—Watching so many complaints is making me give my employees some professional help, well, former employees.
DammS—What employees? Bro really thinks he is Tony Stark.
TheRealStark—Jarvis, dox him... I forgot that doesn’t work on this damned website.
JPMarine—What is bro yapping about?
Hastyar_Hyper—Dear diary. Tyler was a menace today too.
IdrisIllaIlla—No, he wasn’t.
ChaoticTism—Y’all are just jealous of our Lord and Savior Tyler.
Indoorman—Fr, did you not see how he helped all those guys the world ignores and even helped that cashier follow his dream?
NerdAlert—Yeah, on gunpoint, even if it was empty, for the guy it was very much loaded.
GrokiestGrok—Humans work faster when their life is in danger. You call it morally questionable; I call it efficiency.
TheEdgisetEdgetoEverEdge—Where did all these edgy people come from? I was supposed to be the edgy one; I was to be cringe.
HouseOfIgallo—So, I am just asking, should I punch my boss tomorrow? I think he might sue me though.
MithTithan—Everyone has a plan until they are punched in the mouth.
nerdy_bro—I am sure the boss will have a plan to sue him even after that.
Gail-Xuan—So many people here want to punch others, just gather up and punch each other.
TheRealHG—That’s actually solid advice, who with me?
Gail-Xuan—Wait, I was just joking, you guys can’t be serious.
’They aren’t serious, probably.’ John ignored the sweat running down his temple while reading the comments.
Watching the first comment about someone wanting to punch their boss was funny, but reading a hundred of them? Not so much.
Stories often changed people. Some over time, some all at once. But the issue was that no one got to choose what type of change would come from these words. Not even the writer could predict that.
To John, Tyler’s ideology had a good start, and it asked good questions. Just that some of the answers it gave weren’t something he could digest.
So, what was the correct answer?
John had no idea. There wasn’t any image of an ideal world in his head. He only had the image of what he wanted to do. And that alone was hard enough.
But he also knew how easy it was to get swept away by the system because he had been through it. He was being forced to become a pianist; the training was hurting him, and he told his father.
Yeah, his mother walked out on them after that, and he still felt sorry about being the reason for it. Still, it was much better than the train wreck he would’ve been trying to fit in that mold his mother had created for him.
And luckily, his father never blamed him for it, as much as he loved that woman.
’Each person is a piece of the giant puzzle in this world; you just have to walk till you find your place as long as you don’t try to adjust.’ His words always came to John whenever he worried about things, and as idealistic as it was, he liked those words.
Because in the end, one way or another, he did find his place.
’I mean no one could’ve prepared me for a life in the MCU, but I guess that’s what life is about.’
John couldn’t answer Tyler’s questions for the readers. They had to do that, because they had their own life, their own struggles and circumstances. And those answers would affect the lives that they had to live.
And he hoped they would find their answers, not in Fight Club, but because of it.
Now, why was he thinking all of this philosophical jargon while in class? Because there was an ass in his view.
No, he didn’t mean a rude person. There was a literal ass, wrapped in a cream godet, seated on the edge of his desk.
And that ass belonged to none other than Natasha Romanoff, or now going by Nadine Roman.
The thing was that John sat in the middle column, around the edge of the row. The seat to his left was empty, and to his right were the stairs that led to the rows in the back.
And right in front of his eyes was a perfectly usable whiteboard and a podium professors used; they didn’t even move from that place in their lectures. But it seemed like Nadine was allergic to them. In her own words, she couldn’t focus while staying still and liked to walk around during the lecture.
Now, who could explain to her that there were five other lanes? Why did she only walk in the lane next to him 90% of the time?
’I mean it is obvious why, but come on!’ He hoped someone would complain, but that was unlikely to happen.
In a classroom where the students gave 100% focus on the lecture, they were now putting 120% of their focus onto her ass as she passed by.
Even the girls were mesmerized, aside from Gwen. But her problem came with the little pokes and touches Nadine did while walking past him. Which happened a dozen times every lecture.
And the reason she had just sat her butt on his desk was that she had chosen to give the students some much-deserved rest after a 40-minute lecture. Using that excuse, she had been chatting with girls from the desk adjacent to him.
"John, you finally came back to earth." Nadine, who had been chatting with Gwen and a few other girls, glanced at him when he closed the book.
"I was trying to memorize today’s lecture." John looked into her eyes.
How could she have that natural ditzy gaze? If he didn’t know who she was, he might’ve been fooled too.
"Were you? Want me to listen to it?" Her smile was so pure that he almost forgot he hadn’t memorized shit.
"I am... a bit shy." John could see Gwen’s shoulders trembling from the corner of his vision, but he had to hold it in.
"Really? I used to be like that too." She giggled, eyes turning into little crescents.
John wanted to press X, but he didn’t have the controller. Regardless, Nadine continued with this ’I am a trusted adult’ look.
"It’s all about being comfortable with yourself. After that, you just..." As much as he wanted to call bullshit, she was half convincing.
Thankfully, the lecture ended, and he could finally leave. At least he thought he could.
"John, there is something I need to pick up from the material room in the lab. Could you help me? It’s a bit too much for my arms." She showed the arms that looked thin in the full-sleeved blouse with a sweet smile like there was no hidden motive behind this.
John felt a strong urge to say no, but this seemed like a signal. It was like she was done with initial feeling around, and wanted to get to the main issue.
"Sure." He too wanted to understand what this visit was about.
Walking behind her, trying his best not to look at the enchanting swing of her hips she did on purpose, John’s brain started to work overtime.
Was this just observation after he showed himself in the Stark Expo? Or was it about the website? What was the scope of the mission? What was the plan after that? Who else knew besides Fury?
Honestly, by the time he had taken another breath, they had already entered the material room attached to the lab. Honestly, it was closer to a storeroom, but a neatly arranged one.
There were shelves of chemicals, bottled specimens, files, books, papers, instruments, and the works in this brightly lit place that was about twice the size of a classroom and a maze of stacked shelves.
He wordlessly followed her to the farthest corner of the room as her sharp heels came to a halt in the corner that had nothing but piles of tied paper.
"So, what do you want, Professor Roman?" He asked.
"Just a few things, for starters, we need a ladder and th-"
"I am not talking about that; what do you really want from me?"
...
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