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ZERO | PROLOGUE
MAY 22ND 1962
Tate landed on the ground, her hands grazing the rough concrete ground. "Damn it..." Tate muttered, slowly getting up from the ground. Tate looked up to see a portal quickly closing before her eyes.
"Five! You piece of shit!" Tate looked around the alleyway, her eyes landing on the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where the..." She looked around further, seeing her siblings not behind her or yelling at her was sudden.
"Guys?" Tate attempted to look around behind the dumpster. "Where the hell..." Tate looked forward, hoping to expand her surroundings.
It was pitch dark,ย it should've been no later than 10 at night. She tried turning to the corner, hoping it wasn't some stupid prank her siblings were pulling. Tate watched an older man pass by, "Hi, canย you tell me what day is it or even the time?" She asked, hoping for more information for her to piece together.
"What's it you, sweetheart?" The older guy smirked at her. "Fuck off!" She flipped the guy as she watched his eyes travel up and down. "Harsh, sweetheart," The guy patted his chest dramatically.
Tate glared at the guy, hoping he would leave her alone. "It's okay, sweetheart. I don't bite," The guy winked at her. Tate felt a wave of disgust wash over her.
Before her mouth could move, her fist immediately connected to the guy's jaw. Tate punched the guy hard. "You little bitch," The guy yelped in pain, rubbing his reddened jaw.
Tate turned around to see the curtain swish up in the window in the middle of the building. "I'm 16, you leave me the fuck alone, you pervert," Tate tried walking back into the alleyway while the man ran off into the distance. "Fuck..." Tate tried banging on the door.
"Anyone? Help!" She tried screaming for help but no response was heard. "Fuck..." She tried twisting the door but the handle wouldn't budge. "Let me..." Tate slowly used her telekinesis to unlock the door, watching the steel doorknob turn.
Tate pushed through the metal door, creaking loudly. She sees some stairs, "I fight some stupid robots and my next enemy is the stairs?" Tate sighed, hopping up on each step, muttering tiredly.
She reached up to two doors, a green door. and one with a giant window named Mortimer Gussman D.D.S. Tate opted to knock on the green one, her knuckles brushed against the green-dyed wood.
"Someone, help!" She yelled, hoping someone would hear her. A bony man opened the door, staring at her with a worrisome look, "What do you want?"
"Hi, I want to know--" Before Tate could finish her plead for help. The Man had slammed the door in her face. "Son of a--" Tate cursed under her breath before she recomposed herself. She knocked on the door once again.
A girl with red hair unlocked the door, she looked around in her early 20s. "Hi... did you need something?" She asked, her blue eyes staring into Tate's pleading eyes. "Can I come in?" Tate asked, keeping a smile on her face. "Of course..." She helped Tate step into Eillot's small apartment.
"Thank you so much," Tate smiled. "What is she doing here?" Eillot crossed his arms. "She needs help, spare some sympathy,"
Tate looked around the cluttered apartment, newspaper clippings hung up on the wall, books stacked into random piles. "Where's Debbie?" The woman asked, "In her room, freaking out over her present," Elliot responded.
Tate saw the stacks of dishes with a trash can full of wrapping paper. "This might sound stupid but what day is it?" Tate asked, avoiding eye contact with the pair, picking at her fingers. "May 22, 1962..." The girl looked at Tate, stunned at her clueless.
"1962?" Tate softly gasped at the answer. "Yeah... what's your name?" The girl walked up to Tate, trying to find any suspicious behavior.
"Tate Hargreeves," She sighed. "Ok, Tate," The girl looked at the man for help, but the man merely ignored her and walked into a room. "Do you have anywhere to go?" She asked, her tone remained comforting and soft.
"No..." Tate admitted. "Um... I'll have to check with Eilliot but you can stay on the couch for now," The girl offered, pointing to a green couch at the side of the room.
"Oh... thank you..." Tate mumbled, walking over to the couch. "Whose birthday was it?" Tate asked, watching the girl start on the small pile of dishes. "My little sister, Debbie," She answered, picking up a plate.
"Here," The man came out with a pillow and a small stack of blankets. "Thank you..." Tate trailed off, waiting for a name confirmation. "Elliot," He nodded, setting the blankets next to her.
"Nice to meet you, Elliot," Tate nodded, a faint smile remaining on her lips. "I'm Emily," She looked over to Tate. "Em," Tate smiled softly, giving her a nickname.
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