milliways_bar | (no subject)

First, the humble origins.

And then.

The front door opens, as it so often does, and in enters a new face. It is a face surrounded by a blue cowl and belonging to a tall, very big guy in a blue bug suit. He pauses when he sees his new surroundings as the door closes behind him. He’d been writing on the pad of yellow paper he’s still got in his hands but right now his hands are still, and so are the blue antennae sticking up from the top of his head. Blue eyes roam over the room with a steel gaze, and then the man straightens up, hands going to hips in a heroic pose and then…he goes into a soliloquy.

“He stands triumphant, surveying this new place and amazed by the mysteries within. He is a stoic figure that is a monument to justice and all that is right, and good, and cool. Today the universe served him a victory sandwich and oh boy, did he eat it. Yes. Indeed. He did.

“And now, with pad and pen in hand he takes stock and survey of the groovy new place he has come to call home. For villainy makes itself a laundry list of bad everyday and what better way to combat that, then a grocery list of the things that will be used to kick evil’s keister right out of the laundry mat like a bum with no quarters? Sorry bad guys, lady justice doesn’t make change.”

There are probably a few people who wonder ‘who is that big blue guy standing in front of the door talking to himself?’. Milliways, he is- The Tick.

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Mary considers this feat of strength, with a critical headtilt.

"You are very strong," she admits. "But people can be strong without being heroes. You might be an ogre - or a strong man from a circus. They wear silly costumes."

The Tick puts down the tables and frowns. "Well hey, you gotta give me another shot. Come on, I can prove it, just give me another try." Yes, that is a very tall strong man pleading to a little girl.

Those who know Mary would tell the Tick that he is right to fear.

"Well . . ."

She looks around. Generously: "If you save people in trouble, that is being a hero. Do you see anyone in trouble that you can help?"

He looks around quickly, "Well...I don't see anyone. Oh hey! I can save that fine rodent fellow over there from that burdensome tray!" He looks to Mary in a 'is that good?' sort of way.

". . . he is a waiter," Mary says, with what she considers to be great patience.

"Carrying that tray is his job."