Chapter Text
At first, Doc had watched the odd proceedings from the safety of his office window. Part of him didn’t care a lick what the kid was up to.
Yet, the other part of him felt compelled to check it all out—at least for a minute or two.
This half of Doc won out in the end, which is how he found himself standing in front of the courthouse, looking down upon the sweaty, pathetic figures sitting resolute on the pavement.
Arms crossed, he arched a brow. “What are you up to this fine, sweltering day?”
Lightning squinted up at Doc through his sunglasses. “What does it look like we’re doing?”
“I couldn’t even begin to guess.”
“We’re protesting!”
“Ah. And what exactly are you protesting?”
“Can’t you read the sign?” As if to answer his own question, Lightning glanced at his partner—a dozing Fillmore. “Hey, Fillmore! The sign!”
Only seconds off cue, Fillmore jolted, raising a large handpainted sign on a yardstick. “Better wifi, man. Better cell service. Stronger signals make for stronger conversation and internet searches.”
“See?” Lightning said.
“You’re protesting slow wifi?”
“Yep. Ramone left a while ago to get lunch. As you can see, he never came back.”
“Maybe he thought it was a lost cause.”
Fillmore butted in, shaking his head. “No cause is a lost one if it’s a good one, man.”
“All right, so the service is a little slow here.” Doc nodded. “I’ll give you that. I don’t think it’s worth burning to death over. It’s over a hundred degrees out here.”
When Lightning wiped the sweat off his brow, Doc couldn’t tell if the move was subconscious or not. “I know.”
“Just checking, rookie.”
“Sally said she would join us, but she hasn’t shown up yet, and Mater should be coming back with waters any minute now. Rain or shine, the protest must go on,” he declared, and Doc had just been celebrating a clear day without a headache. You celebrated too soon, Hud. “We’re not moving from this spot until we get everyone’s attention.”
“Why this spot?”
“This is where the signal is the weakest. Look.” Lightning whipped out his phone. “Look how many bars I don’t have.”
“I hate to break it to you, kid, but I don’t think you’re gonna attract many customers.”
“You came.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it, since I do seem to be the only one here?”
“I don’t know, what can you do about it?”
Doc offered a shrug. “Probably nothing. Your best bet is to put your sign away and switch service providers.”
“Sorry, Doc, the protest must go on.”
“No wonder Ramone ran away,” Doc mumbled as he retreated back to the blessed air-conditioning of his office.
In the distance, he heard Lightning call out something about wifi, followed by another one of Fillmore’s slogans.
Not an hour later, Lightning joined Doc, leaning close enough to the vent to get a faceful of cool air.
“How did the protest go?”
“We’re just taking a quick break, don’t worry.”
Doc never glanced up from his work. “I wasn’t.”
Their “quick break” lasted for the rest of the week, and if Lightning somehow forgot about his complaint with the wifi, Doc wasn’t going to be the one to remind him.