Chapter 1- TV Fix
My House
Clearwater, Florida
It was the start of summer vacation.
My parents were at work.
My brother was at summer camp.
And what I really wanted was an adventure.
But as anyone can tell you, adventures are terribly hard to come by in the real world.
Even 'adventures' like traveling to Africa to work with impoverished children, usually end up as long boring plane rides, followed by long boring hikes/truck rides, followed by long boring blistering hot days with the faint possibility of excitement from attacks by armed gunmen. Note the three 'borings' there.
Real life is so boring even those dull and/or pointless 'adventures' are hard to have, and are strictly rationed out to bleeding heart activists or billionaire philanthropists; of which I am neither.
Which would explain why everyone loves TV so much.
Real life may be mind numbingly dull, but on your TV; ah, there you can watch real adventures unfold!
(Not real in the reality sense, but real in the adventure sense.)
With your TV you can share in the excitement as Indiana Jones swoops out of a tomb, or as Batman kicks the Joker's a-s-s.
You can have space adventures, and track serial killers, and discover spies; all from the comfort of your very own couch.
You can almost grasp the adventure, and then here's the real kicker, just as you can begin to feel the excitement and really get into a show, they end the season and you have to wait three more agonizing months before you know what happens next.
It was bad enough having to wait a week between episodes, months are an unimaginably long time to be left wondering whether so-and-so is still alive, or if what's-his-name is good or evil.
But that anticipation is what keeps you hooked.
The anxious desire to resume your adventure with the characters.
It could drive you mad, so as many great souls often do, I stooped to the unimaginable horror of: -gasp- watching reruns.
It was great the first time, so why not the second time right?
So there I am sitting home alone in my "fashion police" boxer shorts paired ironically with a hideous Christmas t-shirt, watching CSI reruns.
Oh yeah, my summer was rockin'.
This had been my daily routine so far:
Get up, do the zombie walk into the living room, turn on the TV and maybe scrounge something up to eat before sinking into a daylong TV coma.
I had started with the Monk season 4 DVD set, before moving onto House Season 2, and then all three seasons of Heroes.
After exhausting my DVD stash I had been reduced to live television and crime shows.
Just as the team nabbed the psycho-rapist of the week, it happened.
You know how when you're watching a scary movie, or even a slightly creepy show; you start seeing shapes out of the corner of your eyes?
Don't you hate how that happens?
It always creeps me out.
I'm like: "Woah! There's something right over there!"
And then you look and it's a coat rack, or your dog, or something stupid.
It always makes me feel lame afterwords, but I can never resist looking.
I mean, if Jason ever showed up to kill me, I'd want to at least see him coming.
Even though it was 11 o'clock in the morning and the sun was shining, I was getting that creepy feeling.
It might have had something to do with having watched eight gruesome episodes in a row...
But I could swear I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look, and jumped clear off the couch and over the coffee table in shock.
I think I stammered something along the lines of 'Oh my god!' before I managed to point accusingly at the cause of my panic.
"How the hell did you get in here?"
'You' being used to refer to the two Asian guys standing in my kitchen, looking as confused as I was.
The shorter one moved towards me and held up his hands in the 'we're not armed' sign.
I backed farther away anyways. There were two nuts standing in my kitchen after all.
It was more shock than fear, as neither one of the two looked particularly athletic.
They looked more like the type of guys I would see at my dad's old office building.
The ones who sit at desks all day.
They were even wearing suits.
"We are here to help you." The short one said, speaking slowly and carefully in accented English.
"What're you? From the FBI or something?" I asked, lowering my accusingly pointed finger and crossing my arms nervously over my chest. I took a moment to look at the other guy. He was a bit taller and skinnier...and achingly familiar.
Both of them were actually.
I believe my mouth must have dropped open as I stared at them.
"Oh...my...gawd."
I whispered.
How had I not noticed this before?
"I am-" the short man began,
"You're-" I started loudly,
"Hiro Nakamura!" we said in unison.
I was pointing again.
"And you're Ando!" I said, switching my pointing towards the second man.
"And, omigod, you're in my kitchen!" I blabbered, holding my head between my hands as I stared at them in wonder.
"Is, is this some kind of joke? Is my coffee spiked or something?" I gave the coffee a suspicious look, but was reluctant to remove my eyes from my unusual guests for too long.
"You know who we are?" Ando asked, stepping forward to stand next to Hiro.
"Uh, yeah, dude." I replied, shaking my head in wonder at the surreal scene.
I had been a huge fan of the show since it first aired, but this was taking things too far.
My fan-dom had led me into delusion.
"Then you know why we are here!" Hiro exclaimed eagerly. "We must find Rory Blocks!"
"What?" I said, my voice blank. I'm pretty sure I was gaping at them again.
"Rory Blocks, do you know her?" Ando supplied helpfully.
I suddenly felt the intense need to sit down.
"Please, it is very important that we find Ms. Blocks. We need her help, the world is in danger." Hiro declared determinedly.
I definitely needed to sit down.
"If this is a joke, I really want to know? Ok." I stammered, looking back and forth between the two. (Looking back I am ninety percent sure I was still gaping at them.)
"We aren't joking. We really need to find Ms. Blocks." Ando said earnestly.
I blinked a couple of times before answering quietly.
"I'm Rory Blocks."
"Then Ms. Blocks, you must come with us."
I was not ready to hear that.
I had not woken up this morning prepared to find two fictional characters standing in my kitchen, looking impossibly real and insisting that I had to come with them to "save the world".
But, as I've learned, adventure hardly ever comes to those who are prepared for it.
Disclaimer: This fiction is written entirely to relieve stress. I do not own any of the Copy Righted Heroes characters.
Author Note: If you like it, please review. If you hate it, please review. I want to see reviews.
This story is going to be used as a creative outlet when I get sick of working on my other more serious fictions.
