#madmoda

Thankfully, the redhead had just enough strength left in him to catch the blonde before she hit the ground. He may have stumbled in the process, but he managed to keep both of them upright. While not the strongest man in general, he was still able to shoulder enough of Tara’s weight for her to essentially sleepwalk her way inside. “There you are…” Mad Mod groaned as he lowered Tara onto the spare bed. He never thought he’d have use for it, but he was glad he opted to keep at least one other room as a bedroom. He didn’t bother saying anything more, mostly talking to himself, at this point. Tara was already out cold. Cold… Mod let out a sigh as he realized he really shouldn’t let her sleep in nothing but bandages and his soaking wet parka. If he was cold, so was she. Heading to his room, he soon changed into his pajamas and grabbed a few things for the sleeping Tara. Doing his best to not catch a glimpse of something no one wanted him to see, Mod managed to get the girl dressed. It wasn’t easy to dress someone without looking at them, but he’d done it. Messy, yes, but she was decent and perhaps more importantly, warm. Satisfied with his “guest’s” accommodations, Mod trudged his way back to his bedroom. Setting his glasses on the nightstand, he pulled back the covers and fell into the bed. He was asleep before he’d even pulled the covers back up. The next morning came all too soon… Mad Mod woke up feeling less than rested. He knew his body needed more sleep, but he had to be prepared for when Tara woke up. Going about his morning routine, Mod mentally ran through his disguise and story. He was neither Neil Richards or Mad Mod. Today he was Martin Miller, a twenty five year old computer technician who moved from England to America during his college years. Recently graduated, he works primarily online and by his own schedule, allowing him to stay home to care for the teen. Once properly disguised, Mod checked on Tara, finding her still deep in sleep. Good. He still had time. After leaving a brief note for Tara, just in case he wasn’t home when she woke up, Mod made his way out of the house for supplies. First up; clothing store. Mod’s time as a fashion designer proved quite useful in estimating Tara’s sizes. He may not have officially measured her, but he had a good eye for size. Erring on the side of caution, he leaned towards the larger of his guesses. If they were too big, he could tailor them to be smaller. It was more difficult to do so the other way around. There were a few things he could not estimate for, however. There was no way in hell he was picking out a bra himself. He’d take her to get measured by someone else another time. And he would just have to accept the strange looks he’d get when he’d buy multiple sizes of bulk underwear. The same could be said for menstrual supplies when he reached the grocery store. ...This shopping trip was not fun… At least it was almost over. He just needed to grab the proper food for someone possibly recovering from starvation. Once he had everything, Mod headed home, hoping that Tara wasn’t panicking in his absence.

She sounded young. While Mad Mod may have been a villain, he wasn’t about to leave some poor distressed girl in the middle of nowhere. If he didn’t help, who would? They continued to call to each other in German, roughly translating to: “Are you hurt?” “Yes! Everything hurts!” “What happened?” “I don’t know! I don’t even know who I am!” “I’ll help you. Just stay where you are. Keep talking so I can find you. Tell me about yourself. What can you remember?” The girl agreed and began to speak rapidly, mostly rambling as she could not remember much. “I can’t remember anything. What can I remember? What can I remember? Maybe I can start easy. What is my favorite color? Let me think. I’ll just list the colors. Red, blue, yellow. Those are the primary colors. I remember that! Then there’s the secondary colors; green, purple, and orange. I think red is my favorite, but something about green is sticking out to me. It feels safe somehow. It almost feels happy.” “I bet you’ll be happy once you’re out of this particular green!” “I like the green better than the dark of the cave I woke up in.” She’d woken up in a cave? How strange, Mod thought. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until Mod stumbled upon the girl. His phone still had a charge and he had used its flashlight to search for her. She was frail, bone thin, covered in scrapes and bruises. Her frame was lanky and her long hair was blonde. From what he saw of her eyes before she shielded them from the bright light, they appeared to be blue. Worn bandages covered her body, hanging on by a thread. She was practically nude. Mad Mod was quick to remove his parka jacket and place it over the teenager, keeping her modest. The blonde promptly thanked the man. She had no idea who he was. Amnesia aside, she couldn’t see him in the dark. The light was on her, not him. This was intentional on Mod’s part. On the off chance this girl had any memory of Jump City villains, it was best not to let her get a good look at him. He was sure to keep out of view as he escorted the girl to the clearing. He stood behind her, head down as he guided her forward. Once the two left the shelter of the trees, it became quite apparent just how hard it was raining and how dark it was. The teen did ask who Mod was and what he was doing in the middle of nowhere, but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he used the excuse that his voice was going out to stay quiet. The girl wasn’t too upset as her own voice was rough, having been yelling for help for an undetermined amount of time. The two were quiet as Mod helped the teen onto his Vespa and gave her his helmet. Swinging his leg over the seat, Mad Mod got settled and place the blonde’s arms around his waist. With a turn of a key and rumble of the engine, the two sped into the night. The ride home was spent in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. The teen wondered who she was and what had happened to her while Mad Mod had to figure out how to handle this whole situation. Mod had to get her taken care of before he dropped her off at a shelter or the police. He may be a villain, but he wasn’t a monster. He had to make sure she was at least fed and rested before sending her off. Perhaps hire a translator for her. Figuring out who she was would be easier if she could communicate with those around her. Who was she anyway…? The Brit was certain there was no way he could know who she was without her telling him… but then it dawned on him. A lean blonde haired blue eyed teenage girl wandering around in the wilderness? That sounded an awful lot like the forever traveling vigilante, Terra. Terra was not a Titan Mod ever encountered in person, but she had been heavily researched, just as he did with every hero in town. Her name was Tara Markov, the princess of Markovia. The primary language of Markovia was German. It was starting to come together. When Terra turned to villainy, she donned a uniform of bandages and armor. She looked the same, she sounded the same, and she was speaking her first language. He needed to be sure. After over an hour of driving in silence, Mod finally spoke. Clearing his throat, he did his best to speak over the sound of his Vespa. This time in English. “Do you understand me?” Without a thought, the blonde replied in perfect English, “Yes.” Her eyes widened as she realized she was multilingual. How did she not know that? “What does this mean?” she asked, being met with a, “We’ll discuss it later.” The ride continued in silence. Mad Mod was certain. This girl was Terra… or rather, Tara. She wasn’t a hero or villain at this point. She couldn’t even remember she ever had been. This was going to get complicated…

Donning his helmet and mounting his trusty Vespa, Mad Mod took to the road. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He didn’t really care. He just needed to get away. The sound of his motor and the wind rushing past him became a white noise of sorts. It gave him a sense of calm, trance breaking only when he heard a car horn or had to pause at a stoplight. This only prompted him to keep going. The further the Brit traveled, the longer the trance lasted. Fewer and fewer cars passed him, traffic lights becoming a thing of the past, and there was nary a pedestrian. The trance was ultimately broken by the increasing roughness of the road… or lack thereof. By the time he’d stopped, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in beautiful shades of pink and purple. As he dismounted his Vespa, Mod stumbled a bit, realizing just how long he’d been driving. His legs were stiff and his rear was sore. He’d need to stand a while before he even thought about driving back. Deciding to stretch his legs, he started walking. As he walked, he took in the scenery, admiring the view of nature in such an untouched state. “You would ‘ave loved this…” Mod broke his silence for the first time in hours, smiling wistfully at the sky. “It’s so pretty and clear. Not often we got that in London, uh?” He took in a deep breath of the clean fresh air. A little brisk as the day was ending, just enough to make him feel truly alive. “Haven’t been there in… blimey… over a decade now. Sure, I feel ‘omesick from time to time, but that feeling will never be remedied without you there. You truly were the heart to my home.” A light sigh. “...Do you ever wonder wot it might ‘ave been like… to grow old together? I mean,” he chuckled, “we weren’t exactly young when all this happened, but, grow older together, perhaps? A happy healthy family. You, me, and little Jubilee. Perhaps we would ‘ave given her a sibling someday?” He chuckled. “Probably not. Was ‘ard enough to make one child at our age. It’s not like we were getting any younger.” His smile fell as his gaze drifted to his feet. “Well, now I am… I ‘ope you aren’t too disappointed in me,” his gaze returned to the sky. “I know you wouldn’t be proud of my villainous acts… but I do ‘ave my rules! No murder, no permanent brain damage, no maiming… I would never do something truly evil.” Mad Mod let out a large sigh. “That doesn’t excuse anything... but I only do these things to keep me sane! If I lose my mind, my memories, I might lose you. All of you.” Another gaze at the sky. “I know I’m talking to you right now. At least, I hope I am. But I can’t be sure. I can never be sure. If my memories are all that is left of you, I refuse to let them go. I hope you’ll forgive me…” There was a brief pause before the Brit continued. “I’ll just assume you do. Let’s talk about something else.” He looked around at his surroundings. “I’m almost at a forest. Or woods. Or perhaps a thicket. I can’t claim to know the classification of tree groups. Wotever it may be, lets take a look, shall we?” His legs carried him further still, ultimately taking the Brit through the trees and shrubbery. Under the little bit of sunlight that remained, he was able to see the various shades of green, as well as the little pops of color in the form of flowers. Mad Mod continued to talk as he made his way a bit deeper into the forest, deep enough to see the plants and wildlife, but shallow enough to see the way out. The topics jumped from the beauty of his surroundings to the animals he spotted to the pets he once owned and on and on. His voice was growing hoarse as he made it to the memories he’d shared with his loved ones. Either he was losing his voice from talking so much or swallowing the lump in his throat was making his voice crack. Turned out it was both. Despite his efforts, the tears came once more. He found himself crying silently, barely even noticing the light drizzle that had begun. He should head home. As he started to make his way to his Vespa, he heard something that shocked him out of his sorrow. It wasn’t thunder, nor was it wind. It was a voice. And not his own.