AN: Another weird idea. This doesnÆt take place in any particular universe; or, rather, it takes place in any and all possible universes. Sort of.
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There are many superheroes. Many of them are well known, crusaders against the forces of evil, costumed or not. The names of Spider-Man, the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, and countless others are familiar to people around the world.
There are those, however, that are not as well known. Heroes that some people may not consider such, entities that appear to save the day and disappear before you realize they were there. The figures of urban myth, those that are out of the spotlight, and wish to remain so.
And there are still others. The unique characters that make up the ôsupport staff,ö so to speak; unsung, unnoticed, and sometimes unnamed, these men, women, and all other manners of beings allow the heroes to save the day. Some support from the heroesÆ homes, like Alfred, or Pepper Potts. Others provide technology or research, like Lucius Fox and Rupert Giles.
And still there are others, that not even the heroes may realize are supporting them. This is the story of one such man.
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Whump.
Timothy Veers continued driving as something landed on the container his beloved eighteen-wheeler was hauling.
As he came off the end of the George Washington Bridge, leaving behind Greater Manhattan, he got in the merge lane to take Interstate 95 southbound. He didnÆt bother to check his cargo manifest, to find where he was supposed to go. He hadnÆt for the past five years.
Joining the busy Interstate took minutes. The ride south, however, took considerably longer. He was headed to D.C., a trip that would take him about four hours. At least he didnÆt have to stop for gas.
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When Timothy (he preferred to go by Tim, but as long as no-one called him Timmy, Timothy was fine) had started driving his truck, he was proud of his job. Too proud, according to his parents. Tim hadnÆt wanted to go to college. HeÆd been fascinated with trucks and truckers since he was young, and his goal in life was to join the company of those men and women who hauled goods around the country. His folks hadnÆt been as happy with his choice of careers. Tim knew it.
In a somewhat misguided attempt to gain his parents approval, heÆd tell them all about the important cargo he was carrying. When his mother and father realized he would not be dissuaded from his chosen path, they decided to ask him what the most important piece of cargo heÆd ever carried was.
The first time they asked, he answered, ôa shipment of medical supplies to a town in the deep woods of Alaska.ö
The second time, ôa specially-made drill to help miners escape from a collapsed cave in West Virginia.ö
The third time they asked, he told them, ôI took a super hero to save the world.ö
That was the last time his parents ever asked him that question.
They were killed by Doctor Octopus a few days later. Spider-Man, on his way to stop the eight-limbed monster, found himself out of buildings to swing from and without a vehicle to hitch a ride on, and couldnÆt make it in time.
Timothy was heartbroken. After telling his parents that he had carried a super hero to save the world, he hadnÆt been able to take a super hero to save his parents. After the funeral, he got down on his knees and prayed.
He prayed that he could be there, to be the ride the heroes could hop on, to be there to take them to where they needed to be in order to save the lives they wouldnÆt have reached otherwise.
He prayed to be there. Then Timothy Veers, and his truck, disappeared.
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He crossed the Capitol Beltway on I-395 and continued into Washington D.C. As he passed the city line, he looked out the side mirror, and saw his passenger leap off the truck and make their way to their date with destiny. He smiled, and continued driving.
Whump.
His smile broadened as his next ôpassengerö landed on the cargo container. He turned north and joined Interstate 5. Leaving Los Angeles behind him, he settled in for the five hour trip to San Francisco. He laughed, and stepped on the gas, carrying, as he had for the past five years, the most important cargo he had ever hauled to its destination.
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Closing note: I hope this makes some sense. If it doesnÆt, blame to fact that IÆm tired, sick, and taking some powerful drugs to combat said sickness.
I got this idea while I was reading a story where a hero needed to get across town quickly late at night, and reflected on how lucky he was that an eighteen wheeler happened to be going the same direction he was when usually the streets were deserted. It occurred to me that this was often the case; a convenient truck appears at just the right moment to take the hero wherever they might need to go. So I started thinking, ôwhat if it was always the same truck, driven by a guy whose super-power, so to speak, was to always be there to provide transportation?ö Would the heroes even notice if it was?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There are many superheroes. Many of them are well known, crusaders against the forces of evil, costumed or not. The names of Spider-Man, the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, and countless others are familiar to people around the world.
There are those, however, that are not as well known. Heroes that some people may not consider such, entities that appear to save the day and disappear before you realize they were there. The figures of urban myth, those that are out of the spotlight, and wish to remain so.
And there are still others. The unique characters that make up the ôsupport staff,ö so to speak; unsung, unnoticed, and sometimes unnamed, these men, women, and all other manners of beings allow the heroes to save the day. Some support from the heroesÆ homes, like Alfred, or Pepper Potts. Others provide technology or research, like Lucius Fox and Rupert Giles.
And still there are others, that not even the heroes may realize are supporting them. This is the story of one such man.
------------------------
Whump.
Timothy Veers continued driving as something landed on the container his beloved eighteen-wheeler was hauling.
As he came off the end of the George Washington Bridge, leaving behind Greater Manhattan, he got in the merge lane to take Interstate 95 southbound. He didnÆt bother to check his cargo manifest, to find where he was supposed to go. He hadnÆt for the past five years.
Joining the busy Interstate took minutes. The ride south, however, took considerably longer. He was headed to D.C., a trip that would take him about four hours. At least he didnÆt have to stop for gas.
------------------------
When Timothy (he preferred to go by Tim, but as long as no-one called him Timmy, Timothy was fine) had started driving his truck, he was proud of his job. Too proud, according to his parents. Tim hadnÆt wanted to go to college. HeÆd been fascinated with trucks and truckers since he was young, and his goal in life was to join the company of those men and women who hauled goods around the country. His folks hadnÆt been as happy with his choice of careers. Tim knew it.
In a somewhat misguided attempt to gain his parents approval, heÆd tell them all about the important cargo he was carrying. When his mother and father realized he would not be dissuaded from his chosen path, they decided to ask him what the most important piece of cargo heÆd ever carried was.
The first time they asked, he answered, ôa shipment of medical supplies to a town in the deep woods of Alaska.ö
The second time, ôa specially-made drill to help miners escape from a collapsed cave in West Virginia.ö
The third time they asked, he told them, ôI took a super hero to save the world.ö
That was the last time his parents ever asked him that question.
They were killed by Doctor Octopus a few days later. Spider-Man, on his way to stop the eight-limbed monster, found himself out of buildings to swing from and without a vehicle to hitch a ride on, and couldnÆt make it in time.
Timothy was heartbroken. After telling his parents that he had carried a super hero to save the world, he hadnÆt been able to take a super hero to save his parents. After the funeral, he got down on his knees and prayed.
He prayed that he could be there, to be the ride the heroes could hop on, to be there to take them to where they needed to be in order to save the lives they wouldnÆt have reached otherwise.
He prayed to be there. Then Timothy Veers, and his truck, disappeared.
------------------
He crossed the Capitol Beltway on I-395 and continued into Washington D.C. As he passed the city line, he looked out the side mirror, and saw his passenger leap off the truck and make their way to their date with destiny. He smiled, and continued driving.
Whump.
His smile broadened as his next ôpassengerö landed on the cargo container. He turned north and joined Interstate 5. Leaving Los Angeles behind him, he settled in for the five hour trip to San Francisco. He laughed, and stepped on the gas, carrying, as he had for the past five years, the most important cargo he had ever hauled to its destination.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Closing note: I hope this makes some sense. If it doesnÆt, blame to fact that IÆm tired, sick, and taking some powerful drugs to combat said sickness.
I got this idea while I was reading a story where a hero needed to get across town quickly late at night, and reflected on how lucky he was that an eighteen wheeler happened to be going the same direction he was when usually the streets were deserted. It occurred to me that this was often the case; a convenient truck appears at just the right moment to take the hero wherever they might need to go. So I started thinking, ôwhat if it was always the same truck, driven by a guy whose super-power, so to speak, was to always be there to provide transportation?ö Would the heroes even notice if it was?
