ThisIsFine

HEROIC

The real question is: Does she wear it around town?

HEROIC

😈

HEROIC

Joel Beck
Location: His shitty apartment
Tags: Grim, Sweet Lil' Ol' Mrs. Ruiz, Everything is a lie

Joel couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in demeanor of his guest. Grim had been much more somber tonight than the one before, and Joel could hardly blame him. The last few hours had been particularly shitty.

He watched passively as Grim attempted to drink through his mask, and then pretended not to notice out of grace. He couldn't blame the guy for not trusting Joel with whatever was going on under there. (Joel had his money on it being some type of "Darth Vader" situation.) He was well aware of why superheroes hid their identities: to protect loved ones, have a life outside the mask, avoid paparazzi, ect. Joel didn't have any of those, so his secret identity policy was near nonexistent.

He took a moment to respond to Grim's suggestion, but he was surprisingly reasonable. "Sure, makes sense." It was becoming increasingly obvious that this investigation was going to hit closer to home for him than he could have imagined. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of returning to the ground zero of his life going haywire. Honestly, he just wanted to lay down on the couch and try to forget that tonight, and the last three years for that matter, even happened.

A knock on the door started him. He snapped the folder shut and tossed it back down on the table. Who the hell could that be?

"¿Joel? ¿Estás en casa querida?"

Oh, it was just Mrs. Ruiz. Joel opened the door and the elderly woman doddled in right past him.

"Me preocupo tanto cuando corres por las calles toda la noche," She said in a half chiding tone. "Podrías morir o contraer la gripe."

Joel half smiled as she made herself at home at the kitchen table.

"Grim, this is my neighbor, Mrs. Ruiz. She likes to pretend I'm her grandson, I think."

"Estoy tan feliz de ver que estás haciendo nuevos amigos. Deberías intentar llevar a una dama a casa a continuación."

Joel cleared his throat awkwardly and didn't acknowledge that last bit. He walked over and picked up the folder, lest she get the urge to snoop, and began going through the motions of making her coffee.

"Joel."

He couldn't blame the old woman for worrying. Without him around, she had no one else to talk to. She would be alone in this derelict building if something happened to him.

"Joel, psst, hey!"

He would just make her a cup of coffee and reassure her that everything was fine and- Wait. What was she doing up at this hour anyway?

"JOEL!"

Goddammit.

"Dame un minuto," Joel said to Mrs. Ruiz, then, to Grim, "Wait here a second." He slunk off to the halfway open door of his bedless bedroom. He shut it behind him just hard enough to show his annoyance.

"You know, I was really hoping that having my brain turned to dust and rebuilt meant that you were gone." Joel folded his arms across his chest as he glared evenly at his brother.

"Yeah, write me the essay later, numbnuts. Who the hell is that woman out there?" Doug pointed at the door in an accusatory manner.

"Mrs. Ruiz? She's been here since our family moved in. We've known her since we were kids."

"No the hell we haven't. I've never seen that woman in my life."

"Because you aren't real. You're some bullshit projection of my subconscious or whatever the hell you said."

"What difference does it make? Don't you remember going to the landlord's office with mom to translate? We were the only Spanish speaking family in the whole building; that asshole never shut up about it. Said he'd get us all deported if rent was late again, nevermind that mom had a green card." Doug paused to look around the room, "And another thing. Why the hell would you move back to this miserable excuse for a shithole? And where the hell did all this furniture come from? Looks like someone walked through a Salvation Army blind folded and picked the first thing they touched. It sure isn't from you and Rory's old place; she wouldn't have this garbage. Hell, even you wouldn't pick this crap out."

Joel felt an icy chill run down his spine. When did he come back here? He hadn't moved in. Rory and he had sold their old condo and put all their furniture in storage before taking off for LA. They hadn't been back in town long enough to find a new place before…

Who the hell was that old woman at his kitchen table?

Joel slowly walked out of the bedroom. He gave Mrs. Ruiz a nervous smile and a little wave before approaching the black clad hero. "Hey Grim, buddy, I think we should go."

Mrs. Ruiz stood up.

"We should go right now," He hissed under his breath, trying to convey the urgency.

"¿Te vas tan pronto? Acabas de llegar a casa querida. Siéntate y tómate una taza de café. Te mereces un descanso." She smiled ever so sweetly. Joel's eyes drifted to the cup of coffee in Grim's hand. He quickly snatched it and set it down.

"Mi amigo es en realidad alérgico al café. Necesito alejarlo antes de que tenga una reacción." Joel smiled nervously back and began pushing Grim towards the door.

"I can't let you leave, Joel," Mrs. Ruiz said in perfect, unaccented English. She stepped in their path, blocking the door. Her wrinkly old lady hands reached for the pocket of her house coat. Was Joel capable of decking an old woman? Absolutely not.

HEROIC

I just realized this rp wouldn't pass a reverse Bechdel test

HEROIC

Understandable. When you find the asshole's car, slip some tuna in the air vents

HEROIC

Joel Beck
Location: Joel's apartment
Tags: Grim

The entrance to the building was guarded by a man curled up on the stoop. Joel stepped over him without a second thought and began fussing with the stripped lock until he could finally shove the door open. The interior was...unpleasant. The dark green tile carpet was absolutely filthy with mystery stains, there were several insect carcasses in every corner, and a man was slumped in an arm chair in the foyer. The smell of smoke and pot hung heavy in the air. Somewhere, a dog was barking viciously and a base was rattling the walls. The elevator had an "out of order" sign that predated either of them.

Joel lead the way up the stairs silently until he finally came to his floor. His apartment wasn't...awful. It was certainly neat. As clean as a poorly maintained crackhouse apartment could be. The wallpaper was peeling in several places and the carpet was old as hell, but at least it wasn't piled with garbage. In fact, Joel hardly had anything. The wobbly kitchen table, a couple chairs, an old saggy couch, and an armchair made up the kitchen/living room combo. Up the hall, his bedroom appeared to be almost completely empty, save for a mismatched set of dressers, no bed. Overall, it was nicer than one could expect from a depressed widow.

He picked up the folder off his table and began flipping through the pages until he found the name he was looking for: Doctor Ellison. "Shit," he hissed, reading the report on decreased brain activity. It suggested administering a test for possible brain death. He shut the folder again and went to get coffee started.

"Dr. Ellison was a neurologist. He was the one who convinced me to participate in this experimental treatment for fatal familial insomnia. But he didn’t actually get my consent, because I was dead when he took me. I never had FFI, and now I can't even remember why I thought I did. Aside from never sleeping. He did some shit to my head, made up some..." Joel waved his hand, trying to come up with the right wording, "Fake memories, or something. Now I have no idea how much of what I remember was real or not."

He leaned on the kitchen counter on his elbows and pressed his face into his hands. He was clearly frustrated. "He probably still works at that damn hospital, shopping for his next victims. Northwestern Memorial. You ever been there?"

He glanced over at Grim, then took notice of the other hero's bandages. "Hey, why don't you wash those burns out a little better. I got stuff here to rewrap them. Don't know what kind of shit got in there." Like burnt Joel particles. "The bathroom's up the hall, first aid kit is in the closet in there."

With the coffee maker working it's magic, Joel excused himself to his bedroom to put on some normal person clothes. He shoved his suit into his drawsting backpack and slung it over his shoulder when he was done. Hopefully he wouldn't need it again tonight.

HEROIC

Joel's not too hard on the eyes if scrambled eggs for brains is your thing

HEROIC

Hot

HEROIC

Yeah and def skip the seventh crackhead lingering outside asking them for money

HEROIC

Continue I guess. You can feel free to skip the boring part where Joel shows Grim how to get to his apartment though.