Beneath the Surface Part 2

Beneath the Surface Part 1  (13+) Four heroes recount past adventures while wandering in an underground labyrinth #1163231 by LightningandIce

When it was over I fell over backwards. I couldn't see anything. I couldn't feel anything. My taste was completely gone. All I could smell was my own burning flesh. All I could hear was the rain. The water falling onto the ground. It was the most peaceful sound I had ever heard. I could feel myself drifting away. I thought I was drifting to death. That is why I love rain so much now. The sound of it comforted me as I died."

The tunnel was silent except for the water. The three stared at her. The brave girl. The poor, brave girl.

"I had no idea," Cindy whispered gently.

"I know," said Leia.

Tucker admired her. Her long, red hair. Her tiny button nose. "What happened next?"

"I only remember experiencing pieces," said Leia. "But I know from what I was told. I spent the next four months in a hospital. The first three weeks were in a burn ward. The next month or so was in a general hospital, then I started going to rehab. The lightning charged me. After that, I was electric. I had a field of static around me. Touching me had the same affect as scuffing your feet across a carpet. In interfered with gadgets. Cell phones wouldn't work around me. They had trouble dealing with me at the hospital because the equipment kept malfunctioning.

But the weirdest thing was, I could feel the electricity that was inside of me. We all have electricity in us, that is how our nerves work. I could actually feel it. I was aware of my nerves. And I could control it. I could speed or slow the impulses across my nerves. By force of will I could change my heartbeat and my breathing. I could change my senses. It was so strange. I could control that field of electricity around me. And amongst all of that control, I could do this." She held up one finger. Sparks began to dance atop the tip of it.

"How did you end up here?" asked Cindy.

"I missed half of a year of school because of that. I had to have a tutor for the rest of the year and I had to cram. It was hell. I managed to graduate, but with the lowest kind of diploma. After that I moved in with some friends and got a job working as a checkout girl. Then I decided to become a freelance superhero. I bought some boots, a mask, some yellow Under Armour, and a leotard and became Lightning Girl. Then I realized that my electricity wasn't that strong, so lightning didn't quite fit. Then I became Static Woman, but that just sounded dumb. That's when I started to entertain the idea of stinging rather than shocking, so I became Scorpion, and finally Miss Hornet. Then I joined the SHA."

"Freelancing just wasn't doing it for you?" asked Tucker.

"The fact was that in my town the biggest crime was graffiti and a cat getting stuck in a tree. I could do really little. Plus, I realized that I had no idea how to be a superhero, and didn't know much about my powers beyond being able to shock people. I just figured the SHA would be the best."

"Has it paid off?" asked Vince.

"So far," said Leia.

"That's good," said Vince. Something was not right. He could feel it. He had not heard or seen anything. ESP was not his power. It was his instinct. He had been doing this long enough to know when something was off. Something had changed. Exactly what, he did not know, but he was suddenly much more aware. But he could not show it. Being aware was good. Acting aware was bad.

"Leia, I'm sorry," said Cindy. "I was thinking about it during your story. I have been pretty hard on you. It's good to be light hearted, I'm sorry I was acting like that."

Vince's eyes darted.

Leia smiled at Cindy. "It's okay. Thank you."

He could feel it. It was close. Whatever it was. He could hear it now. A soft pit-pat. They were footsteps. Not a scurrying rat, they were human footsteps. They were close. They were very close. As a matter of fact, they were not just close. They were almost to the corner across from them.

"So, Tuck, do you want to tell your story now?" asked Leia.

"Well," he started, then hesitated. "It's a very bad memory."

Vince could see them now out of the corner of his eye. Silhouettes, coming closer, closer, closer. There were two people. He could not see both, but he could tell by the pattern of the steps.

Leia smiled at Tucker. "Don't worry. Everything is fine with us."

They were close. They were almost in the light.

Cindy rested her hand on Tucker's shoulder. "If you don't want to, that's okay."

One foot stepped from the shadows into the light. Vince stood and walked swiftly toward the edge of the walkway. He did not run, he walked, quickly and confidently, his fists clenched, his gaze fixed on whoever was getting close. The others spun around in surprise and confusion. Cindy snatched up her mask and pulled it over her head. Tucker stood and took one step closer to Vince.

The two men came into the light. There were dirty and looked tired and hungry. They did not look like a threat, nor did they move in the manner of the man they were chasing earlier. They were each wearing tattered button up shirts. There were large purple bags hanging under their eyes and they had full beards on their chins.

"Who are you?" asked Vince.

"Detective Kevin Johnson and Detective Bill Shields," said one of the men.

"The ones we were looking for," Leia whispered.

"Please," said Detective Shields. He sounded as though he had just run two miles. "We've been lost down here for a long time. Please help us."

"It's okay," said Vince. "We're from the SHA."

Tucker teleported to them, grabbed their arms, and teleported them back to the group.

Vince stuck out his hand. "We are agents of the Super Hero Alliance. I am Adrenaline. This is Lurker, this is Stargirl, and this is Yellow Jacket."

Leia smiled and raised her hand in a wave. "Hello."

"The SHA?" said Detective Johnson. "Isn't that a little desperate for a couple of lost detectives?"

Cindy and Leia glanced at each other. "You don't know what happened," said Leia.

"Here, have a seat," Cindy offered. She waved her hand and conjured up two more clouds of light as chairs. The detectives plopped down on them and smiled with instant comfort.

Vince began to pace back and forth. "Tell us what happened to you first."

"Well," said Detective Johnson. "There was a construction crew installing a new sewer line. One day they completely disappeared. Their bodies were found in the sewer, completely ripped apart. We were called in to investigate. On the first day of investigation, we saw a man running through these tunnels, so we gave chase. He led us on a wild goose chase then disappeared. We were completely lost, and we've been wandering around for who knows how long."

Vince nodded in comprehension. Cindy looked at the two detectives. "You've been lost for two days. After you disappeared, they sent in a search party. The party was attacked by something, so they sent in the SWAT team. The SWAT team turned up dead. Some were murdered, some looked like they were killed by rats. As soon as that happened, the police sent for us. Pretty much the same thing happened to us that happened to you. We've only been lost for a couple of hours, though."

"We're both hungry and dehydrated," said Detective Shields. "We have to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Do you know the way out of here?" asked Leia. The others turned and stared at her with a dumbfounded look on their faces. "Never mind."

Vince looked at the detectives. "I know you don't know how to get out, but do you have any idea at all how to find your way around down here?"

Detective Johnson pointed in the direction they came from. "Back that way there is a ladder that leads all the way up to what we assume is the top level. We wandered around up there for a while, but couldn't find anything, so we came down here to look for another way."

Vince nodded, then turned to the rest of the group. "I think we should go back up there and take a look around. Not that I don't trust you guys, of course-" he motioned to the detectives "-but we have more energy, and now that there are more of us it might be easier to find something."

Cindy nodded. She looked at Detective Johnson. "Do you guys want to rest for a while?"

The two detectives looked at each other, then back at Cindy. "We want to get out of here as soon as possible," said Detective Shields. "We'll come with you."

"Okay, then," said Vince. "Let's not waste any more time."

Tucker touched the two detectives' shoulders and teleported them across the brown river. He came back for Leia and Cindy, and then for Vince. The detectives led the way down the tunnel. The tension between Cindy and Leia had dissolved. They were all in professional mode now. The detectives refreshed them. Their minds were on getting out. That's what they wanted now.

Vince chatted with the detectives as they walked. It was specifics, about the mission, about what was going on. Never anything but the mission with Vince. The story of his origin had been one of the few exceptions. That was why he was such a great leader, after all.

"So, do you have any memory of how you got here? Any at all?" asked Vince.

"None," said Detective Johnson without hesitation. They had obviously gone through this before, several times. It was what the group tried to do, but it did not help at all. No doubt the detectives tried it again and again, to no avail.

The atmosphere seemed to change deeper in the tunnel. The smell of human and rat excretions seemed to lighten, and was replaced by the rank odor of ammonia. The pipes and rats remained the same, but the rust was starting to disappear. Cindy's balls of light floated around them. They went farther out, showing them more of the tunnel.

"Any clues to who that man was or what he's doing down here?" asked Vince.

"Not a thing," said Detective Shields. "For all we know, he could be a half-human, half-rat mutant that feeds on human blood to survive."

"With all the things we've seen from being in the SHA, I wouldn't be surprised," said Vince. "We're long overdue for a Ratman."

"I just really want to get out of here," said Detective Johnson. "I'm exhausted and hungry."

"Don't worry," said Vince reassuringly. "There are cops and reporters all over the crime scene. We'll find you help as soon as we get-"

He stopped. Something grabbed his attention out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around and caught a shadow moving quickly away in the distance. Without a word Cindy waved her arm. Three of her glowing, sparkling balls sped off in the direction of the shadow.

The light overtook it. It was a figure, the same figure they had all chased in these tunnels. A short, thick man that walked hunched over like Quasimodo. The man turned toward them and let out a howl before taking off at a run down the tunnel.

"I'll get him," said Vince. He ran. It was not a human run, it was his own superhuman run. He raced down the ledge beside the river of sewage. It was not even a second before he passed the hulking, disfigured man and stopped dead directly in front of him.

The man stopped and stared at Vince in horror. His hair was long, greasy and matted. His face was covered in uneven patches of whiskers that looked to Vince as though the man had tried to shave with a sharp piece of cast iron instead of a razor. He was barefoot, and the clothes he did wear were ripped and covered in dark stains. He reeked not only of the putrid smells of the sewer, but of body odor and decaying teeth as well.

The man turned in the other direction toward the others running at him. He curled back his upper lip and pressed his lower one to his teeth. He whistled a loud, piercing whistle through the gap in his teeth.

There was movement. A large creature scuttled over Vince's foot. "What the hell?"

"Rats!" screamed Leia.

Vince's legs felt prickly. A group of large, furry rats crawled up his body. Their tiny claws poked through his spandex and into his skin. A fat, gray rodent with a long, wiggling pink tail stuck its claw into Vince's groin. He yelped and smacked the huge, hairy creature from his crotch. Another scurried onto his shoulder. It opened its mouth and sunk its large teeth into his flesh. They drilled through his skin and into the muscle. Fresh blood began to ooze from his arm.

Vince swore and flailed as the huge rats crept up his body. Cindy shrieked at the top of her lungs as a huge brown one nibbled on her chest. Leia cringed and sent impulses all over her body. Her hair wiggled and she started to claw at it, squealing in the process. Detective Shields danced around as though walking on hot coals, trying to get the rats away. One latched onto his shoe and began to bite at his ankle.

The man pushed Vince aside and took off down the tunnel again. Tucker grabbed one of the rats off his head and threw it into the babbling brook next to them. He raised his leg and shook off another that was starting to crawl up his leg. The man skipped off down the tunnel and disappeared around a corner. Tucker jumped onto the wall and vanished into a puff of air.

Tucker appeared behind the man. He hopped to the side and latched onto the wall. The hunchback man continued through the tunnel. He did not run, exactly. He moved like the rats, scurrying frantically down the ledge. Tucker galloped along the wall behind him like a horse. The sounds of the chaos behind them carried through the sewers. Cindy and Leia screamed. Vince cursed. The explosive sound of a gunshot echoed through the sewer. It was the detectives, probably trying to scare the rats away. To shoot them all would be near impossible.

The light was disappearing behind them now. In the shadows Tucker could see the twists and turns in the tunnels. If they lost the light completely, the man could easily slip away. He had to take him down, and he had to do it soon. The man ran, faster and faster. Tucker crawled along the wall, faster and faster. They were becoming outlines now. The gradual shift into pure darkness, the same that happened at sunset every night. The man was disappearing. His greasy, hunchback figure was vanishing.

Tucker had to do it. He had to do it now.

He disappeared into a puff of air. Another and he was in front of the man. The man stopped, almost skidding to his halt in front of Tucker. His hand shot to his waist and pulled out a small object. He swiped at Tucker with it, but Tucker leaned back. He pressed his hand against the wall and jumped. His leg shot up; his foot made contact with the man's chin and he fell backward onto the ground.

The man moaned in surprise and scrambled to his feet. He started to run the other way, back toward the others. Tucker had gotten him. He chased after him, but not as desperately. They had the guy now, he knew it. There was no escape for him. He wouldn't fight, but he could not go much farther without running into the others.

They emerged into the light. The man turned a corner out of Tucker's sight. He squealed loudly, then came running back around the corner toward Tucker. Tucker stood, ready to tackle him. A loud clatter, and the other five turned the corner behind him. The man stopped. He bore his teeth and squealed again. It was the rat call.

"Not this time," said Leia. She pointed at him. A small bolt of lightning shot from her finger and hit the man square in the forehead. He squealed again and tumbled to the ground.

He whined, he cried, he squealed some more. "No! No no no!"

"Calm down," said Vince. "We're not going to hurt you." He stepped forward cautiously, holding his hands up as a sign of peace. He had dealt with every type of person imaginable with this job. This kind of crazy was usually quick to feel threatened.

"Humans!" cried the man. "Wretched, evil humans! No! No! Humans!"

"What's your name?" asked Cindy.

"No! Evil, blasphemous humans! Death to you all! Death to you all!"

Leia tilted her head in curiosity. "But you're a human."

"No!" cried the man. "I am filth. Filth! Nothing but filth!"

Cindy took a step forward, holding her hands out like Vince. The man screamed and she jumped back quickly. "Okay, it's okay. What's your name?"

He laid there on the ground, staring at them, petrified with fear. "Filth. I am filth, and I am nothing but filth."

"Okay, Mr. Filth," said Vince calmly. "You are under arrest in the name of the SHA. You are being charged of resisting arrest, suspected murder, sicking animals on humans, intentionally getting us lost in the sewer, and endangering the welfare of other people."

The man-Filth, he called himself-fell onto his back. He beat his hands violently against the ground and cried out loud like a toddler. "You don't know what it's like!" he shrieked. "You don't know what it's like! You don't know what it's like!"

The others looked at each other in puzzlement.

"We don't know what what's like?" asked Cindy.

"You don't know what it's like!" he screamed. "They hit me! They ignored me! I am filth, I am nothing but filth! I hate you, they said! I am worthless, they said! You don't know what it's like!"

"Who hit you?" asked Tucker. "Did your parent's hit you?"

Vince looked at him. His voice was soft and timid. It was not the reassuring, psychologically soothing soft and timid voice used for coaxing psychos. It was emotional. Not false emotions, either. There was something in there. Something sincere, something true.

"You don't know what it's like!" screamed Filth. "You don't know! You don't know!"

"Yes," said Tucker. "I do know."

Everyone stopped. They looked at him. Filth stopped screaming. He sat up and looked at Tucker. The detectives looked at each other with raised eyebrows, then back at him. Leia and Cindy stared at him in disbelief. Tucker's own eyes fell on Filth. He gazed at him, but he did not see him. His eyes saw through him.

"I don't know if my father actually loved my mother, or if he just liked her because she took care of him. I guess I never will know. There are a lot of things I will never know." He raised his head and looked at the others. "I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me. I think my father blamed that on me, and that's why he hated me so much. Sometimes when he got drunk he would babble about how it was all my fault that she was dead. That she was the best thing that ever happened to him, that I was the worst.

Then again, it could also be the money. He hated that he had to support me, and the only reason he did was because he didn't want the authorities involved. He would scream that he never had enough money for anything, that we were stuck in our tiny little shithole apartment because I cost too much money. The truth was that he spent it all on beer and hookers. He didn't spend much money on me at all. I had to eat pork and beans for dinner for weeks on end. Have any of you ever eaten potted meat?"

Most of the others shook their heads no. Detective Shields and Vince nodded, both with disgusted looking grimaces on their faces.

"It's a creamy mixture of meat. I don't know exactly what kind of meat. But it's creamy. Creamy meat. That is disgusting. It is vile the first time you eat it. Imagine eating it for lunch every day for your entire life, because there is nothing else to eat. Our tap water was terrible. There was something in it that made me sick, and I never built a tolerance to it. I was very skinny growing up because I threw up and had diarrhea just about every day. My childhood was terrible." He looked around, locking eyes with each one of the others. "It was terrible. It was fucking terrible.

It wasn't just negligence and mental abuse. It was actual physical abuse. Of the worst kind. My dad would punch me and kick me in the ribs. He had a big leather belt that hit my rear at least once a day. School was pretty bad too. We lived in a poor neighborhood in Los Angeles, if that tells you anything. I went to a predominately black school. I got beat up there for being white. I never fought back, either. After what I went through at home, I didn't believe in violence. There was one kid, his older brother was a Crip, he was the worst. He hated me as much as much as my father did. He would whip me with chains. One time he brought a gun to school, pinned me against a locker, and held it to my head. One of the teachers pulled him off. That was the only time one of them did anything. In my school, stuff like that was so common it didn't cause them second thought.

One day, after a particularly bad day at school, I went back to our apartment and I went into my room and I sat on my bed and I thought. I thought about my horrible life. I thought about the Hell-hole I was living in. About how I wanted to get out. About how I would do anything to get out. Absolutely anything. I went into the bathroom and into the medicine cabinet and grabbed my father's bottle of sleeping pills. I ran back into my room, shut the door, and stared at them. I wanted to end it so badly. Suicide had never crossed my mind before, but this time it seemed so obvious.

I popped it open, took out a pill, and swallowed it. Then I pulled out another one, and I swallowed it. Then I pulled out another one, and I swallowed it. I was scared. I was damn scared, but I was even more scared of the life I was living. I downed another one, and another one. I was free. It was all going to be over soon. I was free.

Then I heard the front door slam, and I heard my father start to yell. 'You F'ing little SOB, you are worthless, I ought to kill you, you no good mother F'er.' Same old, same old. He was drunk like always, and he was mad and he wanted to hurt me. He stomped through the hall and threw my door open. I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw me with his pills. For the first time in his life, he looked sober.

Then he yelled, and I started running before he could do anything. I hit the bottle of pills and it fell on the ground and spilled everywhere. He swung at me, but he was drunk and I ducked under his arm and I ran out the door. I ran down the hall with him yelling and screaming and stumbling after me.

I literally jumped into the kitchen and ran to the door. There were about eight locks on the door, and my father kept them all locked. I started unlocking them. My dad came in, wobbling all over. Then he walked into one of our wooden kitchen chairs and tripped. I heard him yell as loud as I've ever heard him yell. He got up, he picked up the chair, and he threw it at me.

It hit me square in the back and I fell forward. I knew it was over. I tried to get up, but he was on me really fast. He snatched up the chair, raised it over his head, and brought it down on my back hard enough for it to break. There was pain in my back. Terrible pain. I knew he was going to kill me, so I rolled over and kicked him in the crotch. He fell over, I jumped up and finished unlocking the door. Then I ran. I was out of the building faster than you could blink.

I didn't stop running until I was in the abandoned building a few blocks away. I found a room, and I sat in the corner. I sat there for a long time. My back hurt. My head was swimming. I just sat there, my mind completely blank, my head completely clear. Then I got sick. I threw up. I threw up a lot in my childhood, but not like that. I threw up a lot. My stomach burned. My throat burned. Then I passed out in a pool of my own vomit."

Tucker was staring at Filth. Their eyes were locked, even between the frames of Tucker's Lurker mask. There was an understanding there now. They had a connection. They had a common past. Filth hobbled to his feet, his eyes still locked on Tucker's.

"I felt swimmy for a long time. I would wake up, then fall back to sleep. I would throw up occasionally. I don't know how long I was there. It was at least a couple of days, but it felt like years. I couldn't do anything. All I could do was sit there in my corner, in that pool of vomit.

I woke up a few days later in the middle of the afternoon, and I felt better. Not better, per say. I had major cramps and a pounding headache, but I actually felt alive again. I left the building and I walked to the YMCA and took a shower. I grabbed a water out of the broken vending machine and drank the whole thing in a couple of minutes. I felt a little better. Then I went home.

I opened the door and I stepped inside. Then my father came storming around the corner. He took one look at me and started yelling again. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He screamed at me. He said the police came because I hadn't been in school for a few days. Then he hit me, and he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into his bedroom. He punched me in the face and threw me in the closet and locked me in. He yelled and told me that I could never run away again, because he would never let me out.

I should have been scared. I know I should have been scared. But I wasn't. Quite the contrary, I felt powerful. I knew I could get out. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew. That was the first time I teleported. I'll never forget that flabbergasted look on his face. He tried to hit me, but I teleported onto the wall. I crawled through the doorway and down the hall, the whole time on the wall like a spider. When I got to the kitchen I teleported into the hallway and I took off out of the building. I never went back to that apartment."

Vince smiled. "Good job, Tucker. Good job."

Tucker shook his head. "From there it got worse. I was about seven when that happened. From seven until about sixteen I grew up on the streets. I didn't have a home. I lived in boxes and abandoned buildings. I had to support myself, and that was a chore. I had to do some things. Illegal, immoral things."

"Like, like what?" Filth stuttered.

"I was a drug dealer for a while. Mostly coke. One of my higher ups would give me a stash, and I would go out on the street and sell it. I did that when I was seven. I got a lot of money. Junkies are willing to do anything for it. But sometimes somebody big and strong would come. They would beat me, and steal the stash. Then I would have to go back to my higher up and get beaten again. I've had a lot of blows to the head in the super hero business, but there aren't many that match the feeling of a blackjack to the skull.

It still wasn't enough for me though, so I started dealing for somebody else too. This time it was heroin. I did them in secret, until one of my heroin supplier's men saw me selling coke. He was going to kill me, but then I ratted out my coke supplier in return for my life. That next night, my coke supplier was killed. In order to control me, the heroin supplier got me hooked on the stuff. I remember his guys pinning me down and forcing the needle in my arm. And I remember the high feeling. And I loved it. I had no choice but to love it. I was instantly addicted.

He used my addiction. He would send me out and not give me my fix until I did something good. Then I would use it and beg for more. He gave me the best kind. I thought it was because he liked me, but in truth he just wanted my addiction to be stronger. One day I got robbed of it. I went back, and he wouldn't give me my fix. I begged him to, but he wouldn't. I begged and begged and begged, and he wouldn't. So I left, and I went to the payphone and made an anonymous call to the police.

I went back to him to watch them arrest him. He managed to talk himself out of the arrest, then he saw me watching. He sent his guys after me with blackjacks. I ran and ran and ran. They chased me, yelling and screaming like my father used to do. I was scared. But I wasn't going to let them get the best of me. I teleported onto one of their backs, and took his blackjack and beat him over the head with it. In my entire life I have killed three people. He was the first one.

The other guy ran away when he saw me teleporting. I went back to living poor. Trouble was, I still needed heroin. I started stealing for drug money. That didn't pay off well. So when I was eleven, I got into another business. I found a pimp and became a hooker."

Leia raised her eyes. Cindy shook her head in pity. It did not bother Tucker. He was expecting those reactions. Filth was staring at him, enthralled. Exactly what Filth himself had been through, none of them knew. But Tucker's story was touching him inside. It was making him see.

"You wouldn't think that an eleven year old boy could be a hooker. Let me tell you, there are a lot of sick people out there. I've tasted all kinds of different body fluids. Semen, spit, urine. Blood. I was violated day after day after day. And I let it happen. Because I wanted the drug. I was with about five people a day, most of them men, and in between each one I would go and buy heroin. I didn't enjoy the drug anymore. I needed it. I didn't need anything else. No food or water or shelter. Just the drug. Just that.

It all ended when I was sixteen. I had been bought by a black man and we were having sex in his house when his mother found us. She beat him away with a broom and kicked him out. Then she took me to her church. I started to detox. I crawled in the corner and shook and cried. I was so scared. Then I got up. I dusted myself off. And I met the priest.

For the next two years I lived in the church. When I was done detoxing, the priest said I could leave. But I decided to stay. Those were the best two years of my life. I studied the Bible. I learned about God. I met all the church goers. It was a black church, but they loved me just the same. I sang songs in the choir. I read prayers. I became one with God Himself. I had spent my entire life in pain. I had seen the worst crimes humanity is capable of. Sins of every kind. Yet in those two years, everything changed for me. I saw the goodness in people. I kicked my drug habit and I renounced all my sins. And I embraced my powers, my gifts from God.

When I turned eighteen I was old enough to move out on my own. I could have done anything. I had a second grade education, so there was no chance of me going to school or getting a white collar job. But I could have gone out in the world. I could have become a dealer or a pimp. With the way I lived my childhood, I was likely to. But I wanted to do good. At first I was going to stay with the church. But I then I decided to come to the SHA. I thought my gift would help people."

He looked around at the others' awestruck faces. The detective did not look too touched. They had probably heard it all a million times. Then again, the others probably had too, but never from another of their own. Especially the shy, quiet baby of the SHA family.

Filth was intrigued. Of all of them, his was the face most enveloped. It was the common bond they shared. Filth had been abused by his parents Who knew what gruesome chain of events led this man to take residence the sewers?

Detective Johnson stepped forward. He pulled Filth's hands behind his back and clicked a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. Detective Shields joined him. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say..."

Filth's eyes stayed locked with Tucker's. "I'm scared."
Tucker shook his head. "Don't be. You're in good hands."

"Can you show us the way out of here?" Detective Johnson asked Filth.

He nodded, but he stared at Tucker. They still had a common bond. Their eyes were shared. Their pasts were shared. They were brothers. For that one instant, they were brothers.

Filth turned and began to walk down the tunnel with the detective. Cindy waved her hand and the floating orbs began to follow them, but she stepped closer to Tucker. Leia gave him a hug and Vince patted him on the back.

"Was that true?" asked Cindy.

Tucker nodded. "Every word of it."

"Oh Tucker," said Leia. Her eyes were red and puffy. "I had no idea."

"Nobody did," said Tucker. He lifted his hand and wiped a tear from her cheek with a gloved finger.

"I'm proud of you, Tuck," said Vince. "It must have taken a lot of courage to say that, and I know it hurt. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," said Tucker. "I've lived with those memories for a long time. I didn't bloc them out. Saying it out loud today was no different from reliving it in my head any other day." The light from Cindy's orbs was drifting down the tunnel. The others were already about a hundred yards away. "I think we should go catch up with them now."

The four of them went off down the tunnel. They did not walk together. They followed on their own, in silence.

Cindy walked in the front, using her powers to light the way. She was Stargirl. She had one of the coolest costumes in the SHA. She did not get her powers in a glorious nuclear accident or a dangerous medical experiment. She got hers from a rock. But there was no shame in that. She was a superhero, one with seniority. She could create light. How many other people in the world could boast that?

Tucker walked behind her. Tucker, the shy quiet member of the SHA. Tucker, the one who had witnessed the most terrible, evil, unforgivable sins imaginable long before he even considered fighting them. His mind was clear. There was no change from spilling his past. IT was his life. He lived it. Why should thinking about it upset him? He was Tucker, but he was more than Tucker. He was Lurker, and he was invincible.

Leia walked behind him. The young and naive member of the SHA. She was fun and light-hearted. Maybe it was her personality. Maybe it was innocence. She was a virgin to the wickedness of the world. She did not electrocute. She stung like a bee. Like a Yellow Jacket.

Vince walked behind the rest. He was the leader of this mission. He was one of the most experienced members of the SHA, just one step below the Council itself. He was strong and silent. He was a warrior. He was smart. But most of all, he was proud. He was proud of Cindy for being a hero. He was proud of Leia and Tucker for finding the strength to push through their ordeals and to talk about it. He was satisfied with the mission. He was glad to be a hero. He was a symbol of justice and righteousness. He was Adrenaline, even though adrenaline had nothing to do with being a hero. Nor did powers. It was heart. Heart was what made a hero.

The sounds of the sewer drifted around them, but they did not notice. The rats squealed and screeched and crawled along the pipes that wound around the sewers like thread. An occasional clang echoed through the tunnels. They had all grown used to the rotten smell. But they would be out of there soon, anyway, and they would (hopefully) never have to smell it again. They walked for a long time, but they said nothing. They felt nothing. They walked.

The detectives turned a corner and stopped until the others caught up to them. The darkness of the tunnel stopped only a few yards ahead. The sewer opened into the city. It was the exact place that the group had entered into the sewer from. The brightness of daylight burned their eyeballs. It was like staring into the sun after spending the hours in the darkness of the city's subterranean.

The group reformed at the corner in the tunnel. "This is exactly where you came in," said Filth.

Vince nodded. "I'll go first, everyone else, follow me."

He walked down the tunnel and slowly into the light, letting his eyes adjust. He broke the surface. A chorus of cheers broke out around him. He raised his forearm to his face, casting a shadow over his shrinking pupils. The world began to come into focus. The crime scene was roped off with yellow tape. People surrounded it on all sides, yelling in delight. Some held microphones and tape recorders. There was a handful of news cameras and microphones clustered in one spot, all of whom immediately began to yell to him.

A uniformed police officer walked toward him. "Sir, is everything okay?"

Detective Shields and Detective Johnson ascended into the street, Filth handcuffed between them. They looked even worse off in the daylight. They were greasy and dirty, with flies buzzing around their heads. Huge, sagging purple rings hung down below their eyes. They looked ready to die.

"These men need food and water, ASAP," said Vince. The officer nodded and led them away.

Cindy, Leia, and Tucker climbed out of the sewer and into the world of the surface. Leia grunted and rubbed her eyes.

"Stargirl, take Filth over to those officers and get him booked," Vince commanded. "Yellow Jacket, go find somewhere quiet and contact headquarters." They nodded and walked off in opposite directions, Cindy leading Filth by the arm.

"What are we going to do?" asked Tucker.

"You can go relax, I'm going to talk to the press." It was a misconception that the conceited heroes volunteered to talk to the press. Everyone in the SHA hated the press, with the exception of Powerman. They asked too many questions and they risked a superhero's reputation. They could glorify a man and make him into the best in the world. But they would also capitalize on the slightest slip-up and send them down the tubes.

Vince walked over to the cluster of news cameras behind the yellow tape and began answering questions. Tucker watched him. The reporters waving their arms, Vince pointing to them, the reporter asking a question, Vince answering it. Leia had ducked into a nearby alleyway and was talking on her communicator. The two detectives were sitting with a uniformed officer, wrapped in blankets and sipping something from Styrofoam cups. Cindy stood near them with Filth and another officer, talking away as the cop scribbled on a notepad.

"Excuse me." Tucker turned toward a young looking reporter standing behind a line of yellow tape. "Can I get an interview?"

Tucker nodded and walked over to him. They talked for a moment, and the man took out a small notepad. "So how does the glory of being superhero feel?"

Tucker thought for a moment. "Being a superhero may seem like a life of heroism and glory. But there is actually a lot more to it, beneath the surface."