Chapter 1: This Isn't Me
She stared absentmindedly at the glass freezer, her face pierced up into a look of discomfort. Jaw clinched, nostrils flared, and fists balled into the pockets of her plain brown sweater as she tried to toon out the sound of the small TV.
It was dark outside the local convenience store, The City's street lights glaring into the windows. She had been up half the night, unable to sleep due to the buzzing thoughts in her head. When she got up to warm a glass of milk to potentially sooth her stress, she had found her fridge vacant. Thus, leading her to her neighbor's store, mind still swarming.
The trip should have done her good, but her worries seemed persistent to follow her.
Signing in frustration, she picked up a carton of whole milk and shuffled her way to the counter. Her light brown eyes betrayed her as they lead up to the TV above the cashier.
"We're here with the world's first and greatest superhero, Superian!" The dark- skinned announcer boasted
Beside him, was a pretty woman with black hair flecked with bits of grey: Superian. The superhero's silver body armor glinted and her scarlet cape gracefully draped over the couch she sat on.
The girl flicked her eyes away from the screen to watch as two men with strange Egyptian eye tattoos walked in the store. The Pyramid Gang, her heart rate spiked and she eagerly switched back to the TV.
"Tonight, we want to talk about your nemeses The Terror." The man said.
In a confident, yet bored, voice, Superian elaborated on the topic, "By the 90's I had been fighting that villain for decades."
She stepped forward after the person in front of her had left, only to be pushed aside by the men who had walked in. Eyeing the pair, she lowered her head, looking up through her glasses and mousy brown, curly hair. Her first instinct was to run the other way, but that would have just made her noticeable to them. The man behind the counter handed them an envelope, one of the pair chuckling before walking out. This deal was routine, once a week they'd collect their payments and if not … well she'd rather not think about what would happen. A small part of her wished she could have done something to stop them from threatening the store, but she quickly squashed that idea. Stepping up she placed her milk timidly on the counter.
"If he was alive, I think I would know it!" The women joked.
"Thank God he's not!"
Her nails dug into her palm at that statement and an unwelcoming look clouded her eyes as her stomach clenched. The cashier began ringing her up just as a picture of The Terror filled the small screen. She had no hope of looking away.
"I mean look he's still freighting. Terror-fying!"
She couldn't leave the store fast enough after he handed her the bag. Her sight still filled with the horribly scared face of her worst nightmare.
Back at her apartment across the street, she sat tensed in a chair at her desk, laptop opened to the live interview of the one at the store. Teeth were actively biting away at the skin around her nails; milk long forgotten in the fridge.
"And what do you say, to the theorists, who are convinced, "the interviewer threw up his hands with an eye roll, "that The Terror is still alive?"
Leaning closer, Superian looked as if she could have vomited at the probably hundredth time she had been asked this question.
"In my last battle with him in 98', after the explosion and crater smashing into him, they found his teeth in the side of the wall. People who believe he survived this, … just aren't rational."
Now she couldn't help but roll her eyes. They were the irrational ones.
"People be crazy!" The man laughed.
"People be crazy." His companion agreed with a nod.
"We'll be right back with more Superian!"
Releasing her hand from her mouth she quickly tucked it back into her overly large sweater. Closing the browser, she switched over to a new one, highlighting a map with the headline Scientist Killed Near Shipping Port, and selecting print. With all hopes of sleep out the window, she reached for her phone beside her laptop, quickly selecting the number one contact.
As the phone rang she got up and walked over to the wall behind her, staring at the impressive collection of articles, maps, and photos connected by string on her wall. Fidgeting nervously, she was slowly catching fire. If it had been possible fumes of smoke would be churning out her ears
"Ruth?" A surprised male voice spoke on the other line.
Shocked herself Ruth stuttered in her response,
"Dot! I uh … d … didn't think you would answer. I thought you were on shift. "
"I am, what's going on?"
"Oh nothing, no, I just, uh … wanted to say thank you, you know?"
Her free hand flew back to her mouth, nervously biting away flesh. A nasty habit.
"You've helped me a lot. More than a lot in the last few years, "tone nearly inaudible with her fingers in her mouth, "since my last … thing. You know, you're a good brother."
If it was anyone else they would have had no idea what she had said, but Donte, being her older brother and always looking out for Ruth, had come to understand her better than most, in more than a few ways.
"Ok, you're scaring me." Dot chimed warm heartedly.
Ruth shook her head, the mess of short curls falling in front of her face, she unthinkingly ran her hand back through it, pushing it back into whatever haphazard place it had been.
"See I knew it would sound weird. "She chided herself.
Warningly he said, "You're not having thoughts, are you? I mean nothing obsessive?"
"No, no nothing like that."
Ruth stood stalk still, holding her breath as she looked over her very obsessive collection of evidence of The Terror's existence on her wall. She hated lying to her brother, he loved her and just wanted what was best; but so did she and that meant not bothering him with her antics.
"That … that's actually why I'm calling, cause I'm so good. I owe you for that. "
Stepping over to her printer she picked up the new information and pinned it next to a lab explosion that happened not too long ago.
"Okay. "He chuckled.
Through the phone Ruth could hear faint human wailing sounds.
"Look, Ruth, I gotta go somebody new is bleeding. "
"Al …alright. "
"Hey, keep it real okay?" He smiled though she couldn't see, saying in a loving way 'don't go bat shit on me.'
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay."
Dot hung up the call and Ruth was left staring at the expanse of her very not real fears laid right out before her by her own hands.
Ruth watched blankly as The City rolled by her, the cab she was in smelled like nachos and cigarettes, but that's what she should have expected being out this late at night. Despite her better judgment, and only moments after hanging up with Dot, she grabbed her camera and bionic ear booster set and headed out again, only this time to the new location of the scientist's murder.
Truth be told she loved The City: the sights, the atmosphere, the sense of singularity despite the masses. At night, the views were better and the solitary feel intensified; her mother always did call her a night owl. Now the memories, she could have lived without those, however, fate seemed to want to remind her of them repetitively tonight.
"The Pyramid Gang runs this city! Where are the cops?" An angry caller shouted through the cab's radio.
She doesn't want to hear this. She knows who really ran The City.
An equally intense host pushed the caller on, "We've been taken over by crime!"
"We need superheroes! A …a new Flag Five!" The other man suggests.
At the group's name Ruth flinched slightly, left eye twitching. She doesn't need this right now, not with what she's about to do.
The caller continues on, his voice rising with every word, "We lost our team like Brooklyn lost the Dodgers!"
"The Dodgers moved to L.A, the Flag Five was blinded by syphilis and shot to death!"
Ruth screwed her eyes shut and shook her head of the images flooding her memories. The tightness in her chest squeezed on her heart and she felt nearly breathless.
"Could you turn this off? Please?" She asked calmly yet insistently.
If the driver was irritated she couldn't tell, but he'd be able to listen all he wanted soon enough. A few minutes later, Ruth asked the driver to stop near the shipping port next to the harbor. She paid her fee and crept out the car, waiting until the headlights faded to black before moving forward.
It smelled like salt and the cold wind burned the back of her neck. Shrugging it off she walked carefully along the port's fence until she found a spot large enough to fit her tiny frame through.
This was dangerous and she knew it, this was the exact opposite of keeping it real and being okay. She was a grown woman, with obvious mental health issues, crawling around The City's harbor at nearly midnight. Someone could catch her and kill her or torture her or sell her off to some foreign country or worse. And while all of this was present in her mind, something else pushed her onward, something always pushed her to do things like this. It was probably her madness.
Once through the fence, she could see large trucks parked in front of loading docks, shadows of men bouncing back and forth across the concrete. The rattling of the chained fence by the wind and the men's chatter covered up her yelp when she slipped and fell on the way to a small stair case. It led up to a metal walkway, crisscrossed with others above and below it, some of them leading up to the several water towers that stood along the port.
Walking along quietly she barely was bothered anymore by the nipping cold as she focused on finding a spot of interest. It wasn't long before two men carrying a metal case between them slammed it on a table by one of the trucks. Ruth quickly unzipped her bag and placed on the ear piece, tuning the booster to just the right frequency. What looked to be a tall man with dark hair and all black clothes walked up to the case and opened it.
"Did anybody ask questions?" A smooth, low voice asked sharply.
One of the thugs who had hauled the case answered, "Nope, wasn't cheap though."
"Worth it!" The leader grumbled, holding up a round object, "This is super tech, like the old days."
Brown eyes widened at the mention of super human technology, that stuff had been hard to come by even in the golden age of supers. Digging through her bag she hurriedly turned on her camera and zoomed in as close as possible on the small group of men.
Now just what would they need with that?
The object looked to be a helmet with two … ears? Ruth furrowed her brows, both hand's occupied with the camera and booster, concentrating solely on the scene before her. It looks like a bunny suit!
"Looks weak to me." The other thug scoffed.
Snapping both his head and voice the taller man argued, "I bet it's bullet proof! And I know who going to try it out."
Man, she really wouldn't want that guy to be her boss.
Ruth could feel her leg going numb from where she had been crouching. Shifting slightly, she didn't notice a wrench that had been left on one of the rails of the walkway. It clattered to the ground in an echoing symphony that caused her objects of interest to look over in her direction.
Oh no! Oh no, oh no, oh no!
The desire to flee that hit her earlier that night came back full force and this time she literally ran with it. She swore she could hear her heartbeat and that the others could too. A few feet away was a large makeshift wall of pipes and tanks, there she hid, peeking past the edge to see if the men had lost interest. The problem was that with her equipment safely tucked in her satchel, she only had the soft glow of city lights to aid her. Deciding her best bet was to call it a night, she softly backed up, fully intending to review the new information in the safety of her home.
That was until she shrieked at the sight and feel of a large blue man jumping out of nowhere. The walkway shook a bit and that combined with her adrenaline, caused her to fall flat on her ass. Not a heartbeat after a gloved hand grabbed her by her shoulder and pulled her with ease back to her feet.
Clutching her bag to her chest, Ruth roamed her eyes over the stranger. He was tall, muscular, and …wearing antennae. Besides his mouth and eyes a blue textured body suit covered him from head to toe.
"Don't turn back now, I think we're onto something!" He boasted in a confident and loud voice as if they weren't surrounded by dozens of gang members.
Ruth was speechless, her eyes were blown impossibly wide, sight askew due to her glasses being crooked, and her lips pathetically tried to form soundless 'whaa?" and 'oh's.
If she hadn't had the habit of chewing off her nails, they would have been forming crescent moons into the back of her hand where her vice grip securely held her bag.
Oh no, she thought, he's a superhero. And I'm at the scene of a crime, two crimes! Looking shady and cracked out … in the middle of the night …with spy equipment!
She took a shaky step back, unsure of where to turn, each way seeming to only place her darker in a tunnel.
"I …I'm not with them." She squeaked, pulling her satchel up to cover the lower half of her face, shoulders raised in fright. Glancing behind and another unsure step backward nearly made her trip for the second time that night.
"Imthegoodguy!" The volume of her yelp surprised herself and she again whipped her head back and to the front. Breathe, you're out of breath. Breath!
"Well obviously. You've fingered foul fruit, friend." He stated with a nod in the direction behind her, fist heroically placed on hips.
Ruth's mind hadn't caught up, too busy roaming over the sudden appearance of … of… "A superhero. You're a superhero."
"That's what it says on my name plate …I'd imagine." The charismatic smile on his face seemed to waver a moment.
Ruth sputtered, her usually efficient mind taking slightly longer to process.
I'm the good guy, he's a superhero, who knows I'm the good guy … err girl. He's good, I'm tracking something bad … supposedly bad. If a super is tracking the same thing I am though, that must mean ….
"I'm right." She whispered breathlessly, her spine straightening. "Their evil!"
She spun around and eyed the now blurry figures in the distance, taking a moment to settle her glasses back into place.
"Precisely!" He, literally, pointed out. "The goons of some foul madman, slogging away at their detestable night trickery."
The girl turned to face him once more, noting how he seemed to bounce in place. Now she was no longer a suspect and the fact somebody actually believed her, a super no less, she felt a bit more comfortable. Slightly more in her area of expertise.
"Do you think it's The Pyramid gang? Because-"
"Oh what does it matter, " he interrupted with a groan, "they all work for the same dictator."
She leaned in slightly, an unnerving grin curving onto her face, "You think so too?
"Villainy knows no bounds."
He was no longer looking at her, instead his in-place movements seemed to increase, like he was about to charge head first.
Which was what exactly what he did.
She hardly had time to move out of the way, one of his broad shoulders roughly slamming into her own.
"Ready?" He called, as if there had been some mutual understanding.
Panicked, Ruth rushed to stand in from of him.
"What? No, no, no! There are way too many men back there!"
He leaned down, hands on his knees, an elated smile forming.
"Neat!"
"No, not neat! You can't let them know anybody is watching them. I need them to l lead me to the tyrant … you know the one you just said. "
"The Mastermind. "He said the word like the idea of a physical embodiment of evil just occurred, "Slippery? Isolated? Evil? And lemme' guess …not here?"
She nodded her head to each suggestion, curls bouncing in and out of sight. Her neck began to hurt and she wasn't sure why until she realized that it required her to look up several inches to see eye to eye. Looking down for a moment she moved her bag from her chest to over across her body. Now she was shuffling.
"Actually, I can't prove he's alive … yet."
"So, you have finesse?" He motioned with the wiggling of his blue clad fingers.
"What? I uh …sure. Yeah, finesse, I guess. " What is he talking about?
This has nothing to do with The Terror.
"Ha! What do they call you chum? "
"Ruth."
He chuckled, eyeing her as she had him earlier. "Ruth! And …this is your costume?"
Ruth looked down at her baggy sweater, stained jeans, and sneakers.
"Sure …."
"We'll cross that bridge after we've burned it."
What in the Hell is he talking about? Finesse, costumes, he doesn't actually think I'm a superhero does he?
Knitting her brows together, she cocked her head.
"What is…"
"Amazing, "He leaned down again, getting nearly nose to nose with her, "Look at all those bees buzzing around in there. "
At this point, Ruth decided that the man had ADHD. She'd been to enough psychiatrists , she should know. And like all those doctors, she looked him blank in the face and mentally questioned both their sanities.
"You're made up of the stuff aren't you, Ruth? We can use that."
"Who are you?"
Finally, the question of the hour.
Raising himself to his full height and returning to his heroic stance, the super rather dramatically announced, "I, am The Tick!"
Her left eye twitched, "The Tick?"
"The Tick."
The Tick winked at her, mistaking her twitch for the same gesture. Just as quickly as her eye was blinking he was back in her face, the energetic puppy vibe in full force.
"You feel Destiny's warm hand on the small of you back don't you Ruth? She's on a roll tonight."
"I …I don't know. No, I –"
The unmistakable wail of police sirens flooded the air. Ruth turned on the heel of her feet, the all too familiar nausea of anxiety returning. As the lights came into view, she dropped on her hands and knees with a grunt. It was pathetic how many times this had happened to her throughout life.
Oh no, The Tick!
She checked behind her, only to find the man gone.
"Destiiinny!"
Twisting around and looking up she spotted the strange super several feet above her on one of the water towers.
I must really be losing it. Can't let the cops know that though. Dashing up from her spot, she ran as fast as her thin legs could carry her down the stair case and through the hole in the fence.
Right into the hands of a police man.
Shit!
"Put your hands in the air!" He shouted, hands coming far too close to her bust line for her liking
"But I'm the good guy! I'm the good guy!" She protested, complying anyway.
"Sure you are sweetheart. "
Cuffing her left hand and pining it behind her back before connecting one wrist to the other, the cop pushed her over to the hood of the car. The driver, standing behind the door had a flash light poised at her head.
The biting metal and the hard press of the corner of her glasses against the side of her face, reminded her - rather vividly - for perhaps the umpteenth time that night, that this was a really bad idea.
15 Years Earlier
The sweet, icy taste of the vanilla cream was a complimenting contrast to the soft heat of the sun. It was a typical summer day; birds were swooping back and fourth among the trees that lined the sidewalk, the breeze was just right, and people were milling about in shorts and flip-flops.
Except for her dad. He was dressed in his pilot uniform, blue blazer and all. He didn't seem too bothered by it though if the soft smile on his face was any indication. Ruth had been so happy that he had come home early from a flight and took her, her mother, and brother all out for a late lunch. Ruth was a daddy's girl to the core and one day she wanted to fly just like he did.
She had braided her hair into two wavy braids and put on her favorite Flag Five t-shirt she had gotten for her birthday that spring. Dad even let her bring along the toy replica of the superhero group's ship.
After their lunch of sub sandwiches and lemonade, Donte and their mother walked to the nearby park so they could throw the left-over bread to the ducks. Her father however, had pulled her to the side and promised to buy ice cream so long as she didn't tell her brother.
And like any ten-year old girl she had giggled along and "flew" her toy ship while they walked to the sweets shop. They now sat outside the store, under a candy cane stripped awning, small traces of ice cream staining their lips.
"I'm going to join them one day you know?" She said suddenly, the small toy floating over her bowl before crashing into the table with a dramatic 'boom!'
Her father cocked his head, a slight smirk forming as he scooped another bite into his mouth.
"But don't you have to be a super hero for that honey?"
Ruth pouted, "Yeah, why? You think just cause I'm a girl I can't be a hero?"
"No, no! Not at all." He chuckled. "It's just that you're a little on the small side, aren't you?"
She glared jokingly at her dad, he laughed at her pretend scowl and stuck out his tongue.
"Well I'll grow. I've been running track at school and I'm faster than all the boys so that means even if I'm still short I can outrun the bad guys."
"I heard! In fact, mom told me about a little fight you got in with a boy over that very reason…. mind telling me about that?"
Ruth looked away from her father, eyes downcast. It was true she had gotten in a slight 'battle' (is what she referred to it as) with a boy in her grade.
"Well …. He said I couldn't beat him in a race. But I did! "She smiled triumphantly.
Her dad gave her a stern look letting her know that he knew the fight wasn't just metaphorical.
"And he got angry, and said I still couldn't be a superhero because I was a girl and couldn't fight. "Ruth's eyes intensified, a look of determination crossing her pale, round face. "But I said I could fight and I beat him just like I did in the race."
From under her lashes she could tell her father was shaking his head at her. She hated him being disappointed. The Flag Five might have been her remodels, but her father was her real hero.
"Look, I know your mother already talked to you about this. But I just have to say, that is not what a real hero would do. A real hero would have turned the other cheek and have gone on doing good instead of lowering themselves to a child's level. "
"I am a child though"
"Maybe. But I know your smarter than most kids your age Ruth. While it's great to be able to defend yourself, it's up here is what will get you places, "He reached over and tapped the side of her head. "That's your real power. Use it, it will do you more good than any punches or super speed will."
A playful grin crept across her chubby cheeks, she batted her eyes playfully, "So I'm a genius?" "
"You're not violent I know that." He quipped before sliding back his chair and swiping a small amount of change into his palm. "Your mother and brother should be back before long. I'm going to fill up the meter."
Ruth nodded, returning to her cold treat. Her father came and stood beside her, bending over to plant a small kiss on the top of her head.
"Just no more fights, okay. Promise?"
She looked up with a mouth full of dessert, "Pwomwis!"
He laughed at her and tugged on a braid before crossing the street at a light jog. Their car was parked across the way and every fifteen minutes or so he had to go over and put more change in the parking meter. Ruth really did mean the promise, if her father said fighting wasn't what real heroes did, at least not with little boys, then he would know.
Taking her last bite, she looked up at the same time her dad did. The sun created a soft glare on her glasses, but she didn't mind. Instead she gave a toothy grin to her dad and was returned in kind.
Until a giant and patriotic sky ship crash landed out of the sky in a pillar of smoke: right onto her father.
Ruth's smile collapsed with as much force and speed as the scene before her. A sense of complete numbness weaved itself in-between every muscle and thought; she was a statue, forced to gaze openly into the same direction forever. It was a rare case when she didn't understand something, but the magnitude of confusion, disbelief, and shock prevented her from even registering the last few seconds.
The once blue sky was filled with murky smog, the rays of the sun replaced with the scorching flames of gas fire, and birdsongs were silenced by the sound of the craft's metal door smacking against the buckled street.
"Uncle Samson is dead!"
"I can't see!"
One by one the red, white, and blue clad team, came stumbling out of the burning ship. Arms outstretched, eyes dripping with blood, and their rapid head movements making them appear almost undead.
With the echo of the crash not yet dissipated, another less chaotic noise filled the air with the humming of a bee's wings. Right above where the Five's ship had just demolished the street, hovered a giant 'T' shaped craft.
What was left of the heroes (appearing to be Sedona, Straight Shooter, and Atlas), though obviously blinded, could sense the vibrations in the air and pathetically attempted to regroup.
From the second ship descended ropes, attached where hooded figures, their black uniforms outlined in blood red. There had to be at least seven of them, but what was most unexpected was the small ladder that zipped to the ground and its occupant.
A single gasp was the only breath that had ghosted her lips since the initial crash. Ruth's body was taut with the lack of oxygen and she pressed her back even harder into her chair at the sight of every supers' enemy.
Impressively tall, draped in ebony chainmail and leather with touches of red and silver, face scared beyond repair, and lastly a helmet with drapes cut into the letter 'T'; what should have ascended from Hell, descended from the Heavens.
The Terror.
He marched assuredly amongst his men, grin plastered on his burn victim skin, until he reached the front lines. He took one look at his men before cackling in a strained, groggy voice,
"What are you doing? I ate their eyes, now shoot em!"
At his command, two of the men unlatched their handguns from their holsters and stepped forward without any hesitation. Loaded, cocked, and poised, the first shot was directed at Atlas' head.
The sound of the gun made Ruth's entire body convulse.
The second shot wretched a raw throated, "No!"
Ruth used to laugh at The Terror's face on TV when the Flag Five would beat him in whatever scheme he had steamed up. However, actually seeing those egg yolk yellow eyes turn to look directly into her own, stole whatever joy she had for the rest of her life.
The Terror clasped a hand onto the shoulder of one of the shooters, "Don't shoot the last one, just crush her hands."
She wasn't sure what to be more afraid of or what horror she should have directed her eyes at: The Terror as he marched his way over to her or the sight of a man reaching behind the helpless Straight Shooter, latching onto her long, sleek, black pony tail, and pulling her to the ground.
The Terror made that decision for her.
"Hello, darlin'." He sneered over her.
Ruth took in the ghastly sight of him. His scorched flesh, the blood-stained suit, and the repugnant stench of death.
"Look at you, "He gestured to her shirt, "a real big fan huh?" He turned around to watch as his henchman stomped on the left hand of Straight Shooter, her piercing screams shattering Ruth's ears.
"Well, seems like you're going to need to throw that away. Ha-ha!"
She squeaked in terror, left eye twitching repetitively: a broken film. She flinched as he snapped his attention to the object in front of her and reached out for it with a gloved claw.
"Let me just update that for you."
Taking the toy ship between both hands, he pressed on either end until the plastic haul snapped and fractured. All the while his horrid laugh ringing endlessly. When the toy finally broke in two, he dropped it onto the table.
Ruth stared at the replica, body shaking, and eyes spilling over with silent tears.
Present
"You poor broken woman. "
Slumped into the metal chair of an interrogation room of the local police station, Ruth sighed with a shake of her head at the comment. After being questioned by the cops (rather rudely she might add) and a quick look up of her file, it wasn't long before they had her seated across from the onsite criminal psychiatrist.
One of the cops who had hauled her in stood at the edge of the desk, while an older woman with a straight, dark bob sat with a laptop pulling up any and every public file with Ruth Everest's name on it. It was inevitable that they would find the Times' magazine cover.
Both of them shared a shocked expression and kept flicking their gaze between the screen and her awkward form. The photo was famous across the country and nearly synonymous with The City. It showed her as a young girl setting at a table, face scrunched in agony, as The Terror loomed over her with the broken pieces of a toy clasped in his hands.
"Given ..given the circumstances, we …we can just, " the lady looked over to the cop who nodded firmly, " call your legal guardian and send you on your way. "
Ruth cringed, "Please don't call my brother."
The cop raised a brow, "Hey, sweetheart where would you rather spend your weekend?"
I'm an idiot. What was I thinking snooping around like that? Childhood tragedy or no, I still have to behave like a decent citizen.
Seated at bench at the back of the station, Ruth sat with her hands clasped between her legs, short curls clinging stubbornly to the edges of her glasses. She was sure, no, she knew, she was in deep shit. She was glad to not have been in the same room as the person who had to call Dot. Even after having told him that same night she was okay, that she was good, and now he was having to pick her up from the police. She absolutely did not want to hear the lecture she was going to get on the ride home.
"Ruth? Ruth! It's me, The Tick!"
Ruth looked to either side of her, uncertain if the voice was something out of her own mind or had actually been spoken.
The window.
Turning around and propping up on her knees Ruth came face to face with the super from earlier in the night. The man still had his blue suit on and the antenna were tapping against the bars of the window.
"What are you doing here? What do you want?" She whispered harshly.
"What do I want?" He asked as if it was a genuine question.
"Yes!" She hissed.
"It's not my birthday or Christmas! I think? But what about all the evil? Didn't you tell them?" He leaned as far as he could, trying to view into the room.
"Hush, keep your voice down. "Her eyes flicked away, to the rooms door, "No, I can't."
Either ignoring her or just not caring he spoke in the same large volume, "But we got all that evidence of obvious villainy!"
"This is not the place to talk about that."
She turned away from him and hopped off the bench. Wrapping her arms around herself and looking around again.
"I can't say that or they'll think I'm crazy. I just want out okay?"
"Say no more chum."
Thank God. She breathed with relief.
That was until she heard the clinking of the chain-linked bars.
"No! No, stop it! " She yelped, hands flying up in front of her.
"But I thought –"
"No! Theirlettingmeout, theirlettingmeout!"
"Oh …" he whispered for once, hands stilling.
"Just let go, don't touch it."
Tick took a solid step away from the structure, palms up in surrender. His eyes stared at Ruth like she had spout words of wonder.
"Ruth ….who are you talking to?" The familiar baritone of her brother's voice sounded from the door.
"Uh …" Ruth froze.
Here she was facing a barred window with her hands thrown up in the air like she was giving a sermon and talking to … where did he go?
"Nobody! Just uh myself. Yeah …" She smiled in his direction, stiffly turning to face him.
Donte Everest was what everyone would assume a perfect student with athletic talent looked like. He stood at an even 5'11, with broad shoulders and a lean torso, deep brown eyes flecked with bits of blue and sandy blonde hair that fell just above his ears. Even with a sportsmen's' body he still looked intelligent. Something in his eyes was sharp and understanding, the expression on his face made it seem as if he was concerned and cared for whatever it was you had to say. Currently, he lived across town in the dorms at The University, studying as a medical student and working part time as an EMS team member for the local hospital.
It was safe to say that he had his hands full.
" …Okay. "He nodded, adjusting the strap on his back pack.
Compared to Dot, Ruth looked homeless. While he was slightly disheveled in his response gear, probably due to rushing to get off his shift and to the station, his sister was still in a sweater she had worn for going on three days. The coffee stains on her jeans and the disarray of her short hair only added to his fears that maybe his sister was having another break down.
With sigh and an open arm, he motioned for her, "Common, let's get you home."
Dot was surprisingly quite on the short ride to her apartment. Maybe it was due to him being tired, after all it was going on midnight. Perhaps he was angry beyond words, or (Ruth's guilty fear) he was worried.
They passed and stopped at several lights, still he had barley said two words to her. His eyes focused on the road ahead. Ruth's hands fidgeted nervously in her lap as she looked out the window.
Just who were those people at the harbor? Could they be connected to The Terror? Why did they need super tech? And who in the world was that guy, The Tick?
"I thought you were over this. "Dot stated as the car rolled to a stop.
Ruth hadn't realized they had already made it back to her place.
"I am over it. I was just walking to –"
"With a hearing booster? " He sounded irritated, but the look in his eyes showed nothing but concern. "Don't lie to me …I know what you were doing."
She stared at her lap, nibbling at what was left of her pinky nail.
"Ruth …Ruth look at me." He demanded, yet with a softer tone.
Ruth begrudgingly lifted her head and spoke lowly, "I'm not crazy. He's still alive."
Dot shook his head, forearms propped up on the steering wheel. "How many times have we been over this? How many doctors and therapists and medications Ruth? They found his teeth! "
"They found his teeth?" A look of disgust crossed her face, "That's just the type of evidence he would plant Dot!"
He glared over at her, jaw clinched, "The. Terror. Is. Dead. I can't keep doing this with you. "He closed his eyes for a moment, massaging the spot between his brows, "Don't you want to get better?"
It stressed her to see someone she loved to be so worked up over her dumb ass decisions. She did want to get better. She wanted to believe The Terror was dead. Above all else she needed to.
But she knew she never would.
"Of course, I want to get better. "
"Then you have to stop running off and looking for footprints that aren't there!"
Ruth's sharp intake of breath and her resuming looking out the window made Dot's chest squeeze. He had worked himself up. The lack of sleep and worry for his little sister manifesting itself in anger.
Which was not what he was supposed to-do. Ever since the death of their father he had to be the one to fill in the gap. But Dot would never be their father and treating her like a child wasn't going to make her any better.
"Look, " he breathed heavily, " Superian killed him the year after dad died. You can't trick her. "
Ruth faced him again, eyes set in stone, her mouth a thin line.
"You're going to have to believe that. A super killed him, Superian killed The Terror. That's why she's there, to fight the battles you don't have to.
"I'm just trying to prove he's there. He's stronger than ever and I'm the only one who knows. You didn't see what I saw at the harbor tonight."
"You see things sometimes Ruth. Things that aren't always there. Do you remember the weird visions? The voices? "He listed off.
"Stop! Stop …trying to commit me. I'm a together person. "Her voice quivered.
Dot knew she wasn't and that killed him. She was just trying to be normal. Ruth should have had a job she loved and goals and friends or even a boyfriend, but she was stuck. Stuck trying to just pretend she was a whole person.
"Okay, so what if The Terror was still alive? What would you do?" He rationalized.
Ruth opened her mouth with nothing to say, eyes blinking as if the answer would appear in her vision at any moment.
"You don't think you could stop him, do you? Stop putting this responsibility on yourself. That's why we have the cops and Superian. You're not a hero, so stop fighting."
Just no more fights, okay. Promise?
Those were her father's last words. Similar to what her brother was reminding her of now. She wasn't going to break that promise.
"Okay." She consented, nodding slightly. "Okay."
"Okay, that's good." He sent up a silent prayer of thanks. He had her convinced, for now at least.
"I'm …. going to get some rest. Thank you, Dot, I really am trying." She gripped the door's handle, popping it open.
"I know you are. Do you want me to walk you up?"
"No, I'm okay."
"Good I need you to be." He smiled softly, he really wished she would have let him up, just to make sure. But he didn't want another fight.
She perked up the corners of her mouth ever so slightly, "Yeah, me too."
The first thing Ruth did upon walking into her apartment was dig her medication out of the trash. Then she took two of each and replaced their bottles back into the mirror above the bathroom sink.
She took a good long look at herself; the wild hair, eyes red from tiredness, and somehow her glasses had managed to fall crooked.
I'll feel better after a shower.
It was one thirty in the morning before she managed to clean herself up. Now with her damp curls, Christmas pajamas, and a glass of warm milk she felt ready for bed.
There was still one nagging detail on her mind however: who was The Tick?
Ruth propped herself up onto her bed, laptop in hand. Quickly closing out of her last few pages, she pulled A.E.G.I.S.' superhero database. If anybody wanted to know about a super, they could find everything here.
Which was why she was surprised to find absolutely no links to anything or anyone named The Tick. He's obviously new, she thought, his application still might be pending.
To prevent any further unnecessary thoughts, she closed the computer, moving it over to her night stand. She took one last sip of the warm milk before removing her glasses and shutting off her lamp. Finally, snuggling down into her covers, the hazy promise of sleep crept into mind.
What are you going to do about it Ruth?
How are you going to stop him?
Are you going to let fear rule your life?
What about your promise?
She woke with a start. Gasping lightly as her eye twitched spastically. What was she going to do? A quick look at her bedside clock told her, that at four o'clock in the morning, she was going back to sleep.
The insistent beeping of an alarm as it struck six-thirty, roused its owner out of her light slumber. It was a Saturday, she could sleep in, and with last night's events she fully planned to. Ruth rolled over, sluggishly fingering for the little button that turned off the machine. Once silenced she slump to her side, snuggling into her pillow.
"Last night was crazy. I'm crazy." She mumbled to herself.
"You're not crazy Ruth. You're sane in a crazy world. "
Her eyes snapped open. More awake now than if every alarm clock in The City had gone off at once.
"Oh God!" She yelped, flying up from her bed.
She hoped it was a trick on her eyes, but when she fumbled for her glasses she shrieked again. There, in her bed, was the man from last night: The Tick. Still in his costume and lounging on her comforter.
"Nice bed! Thanks for turning off that mysterious noise by the way. "He smiled, rolling over on his back.
"Wha, wwwhat wwhat are you doing here?"
She wrapped one arm around her small chest, feeling vulnerable without the confines of a bra. Nearly ripping out a chunk of hair, as she shakily pushed it out of her way, forgetting the morning tangles.
"Let's not deal with trivia chum, we have a tiger by the tail!" He jumped up from the bed, almost splitting the frame in two when he slapped his hands down on the mattress
Ruth was momentarily shocked as he calmly walked out her bedroom door, calling back "So this is the secret lair, yes?"
"NO! It's my apart- nonononono! "she stumbled after him just in time to see Tick grip a hanger on her coat rack tacked onto the wall in thehallway, ripping it out of the plaster.
"Where's your lever? "He asked as if breaking her home wasn't an issue, continuing to make his way down to her study.
Bending over to quickly pick up the debris, she snapped, "There is no lever. Stop – don't, don't touch anything!"
"Holy cow! Look at this! You have more evil proof! It's all complicated. " He awed.
Ruth dump the rubble onto a nearby table, rushing over to find Tick staring in wonder at her wall of evidence. She noted how the antenna twitched as if signaling his fascination. Those can't be real. They must be tuned to the brain waves somehow.
Tick ran his hands over the strings like a child in a toy store. "You have ideas, plans, finesse. I like that in a sidekick."
"Sidekick? What makes you think sidekick? And stop touching that!" She slapped his wrist, several photos floating to the floor.
The blue super pouted, but quickly recovered and resumed spewing whatever thoughts came to his mind.
"Let's face facts, you're a genius. Filled with an amazing brain, "he poked her right on her forehead, "I have everything else!" He boasted rather smugly.
She jerked away, eyeing him openly like a madman. "What are you talking about!?" She picked up the papers from the floor and obsessively pinning them back to the wall.
"Ruth, I'm a superhero, "he sighed as if irritated, "I'm nigh-invulnerable, have the reflexes of an Olympic figure skating swan, with the strength of at least eight tigers. "
This man is insane! She thought, quickly making her away around him as he edged closer, only to turn in her direction once again.
"The best power a superhero slash swan slash tiger can have however, " he paused, " is the power to speak to Destiny. Which I have. "
Ruth folded her arms over her chest, completely dumbfounded.
"She says good morning Ruth!" He cheered.
Tick turned around suddenly and reached under her desk. Pulling out what looked to be a heavy metal case. When did he put that there? She didn't have time to ask before he slammed it onto said desk. Thank God, she had moved her laptop to her room.
"Destiny also has a gift."
"What is this?" She questioned with a raised hand, walking over slightly to peer at it.
Tick grinned mischievously, giggling slightly has he began pulling on random knickknacks placed around the room, "Everything that survived the explosion!"
"Explosion? Tick, did you cause an explosion?" She pulled on his arm as he tried to throw a ceramic puppy to the ground. "You didn't go after those men, did you?" Now she was irritated, why couldn't he just stay focused!
He shrugged her off, crashing his fist onto the case, causing it to pop open.
"These bunnies put all their eggs in one basket. Tsk tsk, great for us though!"
Ruth's blood was about to boil, the anxious feeling of helplessness seeping into her guts. "Tick I'm sorry, no actually I'm not sorry. I've been arrested and scolded and now broken into!" She glared directly at him. "There is no 'us'" She gestured around wildly. It was too early for this type of explanation. "I'm not a part of whatever you have going on."
He laughed, "I don't have anything going on."
"Yes, you do! You're trying to hunt down The Terror! "
"No, you're trying to hunt him down, I'm here to mop up the filthy residue of mucousy evil. Still doesn't mean you don't need a cool costume though!"
Ruth bit her tongue, she couldn't argue with that. After all she had told him that when they first met. Besides, she really wanted to know what was in that metal case the other night. Tiptoeing over she noticed that it was a swath of light gray, indented fabric. Atop the heap sat what she saw last night: A small helmet that looked to have, not bunny ears, but moth-like antenna.
"Well it's not mine. "
"Destiny is beckoning you Ruth. Look at me." He commanded.
She had already been looking, instead she rolled her eyes.
"I'm over here answering our Destiny. It's good and warm, like the inside of bread. "He mused, dreamily.
"I'm not getting inside bread with you. Don't you understand that?"
Tick looked at her with a rather dead expression, "not really."
"Well first of all, I don't even know you, then you broke into my house, and –"
"Whaaat? Ruth, buddy, chum, you know me! I'm the you you never could be! Because you never allowed yourself to be me."
"No, I don't want to be you. "She shook her head, pretty assuredly.
"You make a better door than you do a window chum. So, open yourself up, walk through you, and over to me." The analogy accompanied by equally colorful hand gestures.
"Nope, no. I'm done. Please leave." Ruth began walking the other direction, intent on calling the police if he didn't follow suit.
Tick groaned loudly," Destiny wanted us to meet Ruth. So, we did. She also wanted me to cause that very big explosion last night, so I did that too!"
"I knew it!" She spat, turning on her heels, an accusing digit pointed in his direction.
"Exactly!"
"Not wha-"
"Which is why …. the only thing that survived …was this. "He lifted the helmet gingerly, as if it were a precious stone, "A tiny heroic gift, sized to your girlieness." Tick looked over at her knowingly, "I think you catch the drift of Destiny's currents."
Ruth had to give him credit, what little coincidence there was he managed to make it sound convincing. When Tick dropped the helmet back into the case, he looked around for a moment as if sensing something she couldn't.
"What's wrong?" She backed up a bit.
Saying nothing Tick suddenly reached for her standing lamp, yanking it back before dropping it in a sharp collision with the floor.
"There is no trigger!" She whined, "That was a gift too."
As with everything else he had broken, Tick didn't look remotely sorry.
"You'll find me on the roof tops. "
"Will you just go?" She begged.
Tick shrugged, flipped up a window in the study (the glass smashing at the force) and for a guy with great agility, clambered out rather clumsily.
Ruth sighed, looking around her apartment at the small mess The Tick had created in only fifteen minutes. She was exhausted, whether it was from the night or morning was anyone's guess. Either way, she wasn't going to be able to have the lazy Saturday she had planned.
Ruth had to admit, she looked rather good in a body suit.
After having swept up the chards of wall and broken glass, she then set to finding something for breakfast. With a bowl of cereal, she walked back to the study, staring intently at the metal case.
What if he is right? Maybe this is my destiny. But why me? Why not some young super? I'm not suited for this type of thing anyway. I mean Superian's been the only female superhero since the Flag Five. Even before, there have only been a handful. The suit does look it might be my size though …it wouldn't hurt.
Which was how she ended up squirming her way into the super suite. She wasn't admiring, just acknowledging, that yes, the 'costume' did seem to be built for her. Looking into the full-length mirror behind the apartment's main door, she could see that the material stretched well over the hips and breast area, allowing for ample movement. It wasn't clingy however, it was close enough to the skin to prevent excess fabric from catching on anything, but it also let air flow freely between her skin and the soft cloth.
Content with the look, Ruth reached over for the helmet, carefully sliding it over the cap she had already placed over her bed headed curls. Once settled, a goggle slide into place from of each side of the helmet. Ruth could still see the room around her, but strange light blue holograms kept appearing in her vision, followed by a few words in a foreign language she couldn't identify.
Each time she'd turn her head or faced another direction the lines would shift and options would appear on the goggle's screen. Seeing as blindly spinning would get her nowhere she looked elsewhere on the suite. She chided herself when it occurred to her to look at the obvious wrist panel.
Tapping the screen, she wasn't prepared when out from her back sprung giant …moth wings? The material was slightly holographic, bits of pinks, blues, and purples, sparkling as they hit the light at just the right angle. Defiantly not a bunny. They even fluttered slightly with quick movements.
She was a moth.
Mothgirl? Mothwoman? Mothgal? Lunar Moth?"
Ruth hadn't thought of what her superhero alias would be for over sixteen years. Unlike her kid self, the adult her couldn't find anything that rang out.
What did ring out however, was the dull thud of a boot on the other side of the door. Ruth flattened herself against the wall, just as a group of men wielding guns right at her, pushed their way inside.
Standing in the middle was a lean man with a small ebony pony tail, a lightening scar across his face, and a completely black eye.
The two locked eyes for a moment, cold dead irises pinning down the frightened spirit in Ruth.
"Shoot her." He barked.
Ruth really thought she was dead when the first bullet landed right where her heart was. She gasped in pain as another one bounced off her shoulder. To her disbelief however, there was no blood. Only the contoured malice of the dark man's face above her. It hit her just then, she knew this man. From the paper and website forums: this was The Terror's right-hand man.
In her apartment.
With a stolen suite, she was wearing.
And the last decade and a half of her work on The Terror plastered on a wall nearby.
Fucking Great.