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All right, with the posting of part III, the set dressing is done and the action will start picking up for a bit.
THE ISLAMIC REPUBLIC OF KAHNDAQ
In Ancient Egypt, less than half of the children born lived to even 5 years of age. To have a child who lived was seen as nothing less than a blessing from the gods themselves. If a child did not have parents, they were taken in by others. Laborer, craftsman, slave... it didn’t matter. The ancient world knew that children were the lifeblood of the future, a future that was always just one plague away from being snatched away.
In modern times, man had eliminated slavery. Eradicated disease. The infant mortality rate for the region was less than two percent, or about sixteen deaths for every one thousand infants. But if society and medicine had seen waves of progress, it seemed the value of human life – or childhood at least – might have hit an all time low, with over a million children living and dying on the streets of Egypt and Kahndaq.
Viewed as criminals rather than victims, the police were a source of abuse, not aid. They fell into roving street gangs for protection, but those gangs were often a source of as much, or more, violence than what they’d sought to escape on the street.
It was a reality as ugly as it was cruel, and the Champion of Kahndaq didn’t have an answer on how to make it right.
The Champion of Kahndaq didn’t even know where he was going to get something to eat.
As penniless as when he’d been a slave, but arguably worse for not having even a master responsible for him, the boy had found himself on the street like so much trash.
“No beds,” the man said, as the boy stood outside of a shelter run by one of the cities undervalued nonprofits, and being turned away. “I can give you this, though,” the man added, handing the child a scrap of stale tandoori bread and perhaps a handful of basmati rice.
It was maybe two bites at most.
“Thank you,” Teth offered simply, as he found the door shut as he was left standing on the street. The same story, night after night. He’d struggle to recall if asked when the last time was that he had a shower or clean clothes.
Two more shelters turned him out. Too few resources for too many.
Amir was about Teth’s age, panhandling outside a subway station. When Mar-Vell had left to follow after the Reach’s retreat and Teth had found himself on the streets of Kahndaq, it had been Amir who’d offered a hand in helping the disoriented Champion through surviving on the streets in this day and age.
“Any luck?” the green-eyed boy asked in Arabic, as the pair exchanged a series of fist bumps in an elaborate handshake
“No,” Amir answered flatly, spitting on the sidewalk as he added, “Stingy bastards.”
Teth made a hollow, sardonic sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. Putting his back to the stairwell that led down into the subway, the time-lost warrior closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the trains and people mulling about.
The Kahndaq he remembered had been so full of people, and yet so quiet at night.
“Where have you been?” Amir asked, interrupting the boy’s brooding.
“Around,” Teth answered cryptically.
“Is your name really Teth?”
“Huh?” That seemed random.
“I mean, it's like saying, ‘hi, I’m the devil!’” Amir opined aloud. “People are always saying things like, ‘oh Teth-Adam will devour you’. It means like evil or whatever, doesn’t it?”
It meant mighty, but, okay, fair. “I... get that alot, actually,” Teth admitted.
“You should tell people your name is... I dunno, like, Theo.”
In the annals of history, Shazam was revered and it seemed that Teth was the devil. Just how had they landed on this topic? Changing the subject, as his stomach was reminding him of why he’d started this way, Teth looked over and asked, “You think that shelter on Cyrus Avenue might have food?”
“Closed,” The other boy offered. Before Teth could ask, the youth just gave a shrug. The costs of everything was still up from the war, with charities already stretched thin collapsing under the added economic pressures.
Teth’s stomach growled. In many ways, it was like living as a slave again. Except, as cruel as they might have been, the slavers actually had some motivation for keeping the slaves alive. At least until the job was done. “Guess I’ll go to our usual place and try to get some sleep then.”
Their usual place was a mostly intact building in a neighborhood that had been all but leveled during the fighting with the Reach, condemned but work on rebuilding the city lingered on between cost overruns, no shortage of accusations of corruption, and an emphasis on the more affluent parts of the city.
“I’m going to stay here awhile longer. I’ve almost got enough to where I could buy from the falafel cart tomorrow,” Amir remarked, even though the two seemed all but invisible to the people around them.
Teth gave a slight nod and wave as he started to take his leave.
Amir’s voice called out to him as he did. “Let’s have some falafel tomorrow.”
The green-eyed boy dipped his head so that Amir wouldn’t see the tear that had just slipped free. Teth didn’t know if saints were real or not, but here was a boy with literally nothing but the shirt on his back, begging for food and he was offering to share what he’d eeked out of charity with someone he barely knew.
And if he knew who Teth really was, might have second thoughts about it.
“Inshallah,” Teth offered, lifting his head up just briefly as he offered the other boy a wave and then started making his way down the street.
He was crying but it didn’t matter, it was as if he didn’t even exist to the other people mulling around him.
Protector of Kahndaq.
He’d never felt so weak and powerless.
In modern times, man had eliminated slavery. Eradicated disease. The infant mortality rate for the region was less than two percent, or about sixteen deaths for every one thousand infants. But if society and medicine had seen waves of progress, it seemed the value of human life – or childhood at least – might have hit an all time low, with over a million children living and dying on the streets of Egypt and Kahndaq.
Viewed as criminals rather than victims, the police were a source of abuse, not aid. They fell into roving street gangs for protection, but those gangs were often a source of as much, or more, violence than what they’d sought to escape on the street.
It was a reality as ugly as it was cruel, and the Champion of Kahndaq didn’t have an answer on how to make it right.
The Champion of Kahndaq didn’t even know where he was going to get something to eat.
As penniless as when he’d been a slave, but arguably worse for not having even a master responsible for him, the boy had found himself on the street like so much trash.
“No beds,” the man said, as the boy stood outside of a shelter run by one of the cities undervalued nonprofits, and being turned away. “I can give you this, though,” the man added, handing the child a scrap of stale tandoori bread and perhaps a handful of basmati rice.
It was maybe two bites at most.
“Thank you,” Teth offered simply, as he found the door shut as he was left standing on the street. The same story, night after night. He’d struggle to recall if asked when the last time was that he had a shower or clean clothes.
Two more shelters turned him out. Too few resources for too many.
Amir was about Teth’s age, panhandling outside a subway station. When Mar-Vell had left to follow after the Reach’s retreat and Teth had found himself on the streets of Kahndaq, it had been Amir who’d offered a hand in helping the disoriented Champion through surviving on the streets in this day and age.
“Any luck?” the green-eyed boy asked in Arabic, as the pair exchanged a series of fist bumps in an elaborate handshake
“No,” Amir answered flatly, spitting on the sidewalk as he added, “Stingy bastards.”
Teth made a hollow, sardonic sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. Putting his back to the stairwell that led down into the subway, the time-lost warrior closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the trains and people mulling about.
The Kahndaq he remembered had been so full of people, and yet so quiet at night.
“Where have you been?” Amir asked, interrupting the boy’s brooding.
“Around,” Teth answered cryptically.
“Is your name really Teth?”
“Huh?” That seemed random.
“I mean, it's like saying, ‘hi, I’m the devil!’” Amir opined aloud. “People are always saying things like, ‘oh Teth-Adam will devour you’. It means like evil or whatever, doesn’t it?”
It meant mighty, but, okay, fair. “I... get that alot, actually,” Teth admitted.
“You should tell people your name is... I dunno, like, Theo.”
In the annals of history, Shazam was revered and it seemed that Teth was the devil. Just how had they landed on this topic? Changing the subject, as his stomach was reminding him of why he’d started this way, Teth looked over and asked, “You think that shelter on Cyrus Avenue might have food?”
“Closed,” The other boy offered. Before Teth could ask, the youth just gave a shrug. The costs of everything was still up from the war, with charities already stretched thin collapsing under the added economic pressures.
Teth’s stomach growled. In many ways, it was like living as a slave again. Except, as cruel as they might have been, the slavers actually had some motivation for keeping the slaves alive. At least until the job was done. “Guess I’ll go to our usual place and try to get some sleep then.”
Their usual place was a mostly intact building in a neighborhood that had been all but leveled during the fighting with the Reach, condemned but work on rebuilding the city lingered on between cost overruns, no shortage of accusations of corruption, and an emphasis on the more affluent parts of the city.
“I’m going to stay here awhile longer. I’ve almost got enough to where I could buy from the falafel cart tomorrow,” Amir remarked, even though the two seemed all but invisible to the people around them.
Teth gave a slight nod and wave as he started to take his leave.
Amir’s voice called out to him as he did. “Let’s have some falafel tomorrow.”
The green-eyed boy dipped his head so that Amir wouldn’t see the tear that had just slipped free. Teth didn’t know if saints were real or not, but here was a boy with literally nothing but the shirt on his back, begging for food and he was offering to share what he’d eeked out of charity with someone he barely knew.
And if he knew who Teth really was, might have second thoughts about it.
“Inshallah,” Teth offered, lifting his head up just briefly as he offered the other boy a wave and then started making his way down the street.
He was crying but it didn’t matter, it was as if he didn’t even exist to the other people mulling around him.
Protector of Kahndaq.
He’d never felt so weak and powerless.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE EXPECTING OF ME
but under the pressure of walking in your shoes
EVERY STEP THAT I TAKE IS ANOTHER MISTAKE TO YOU
- linkin park, “numb”
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE EXPECTING OF ME
but under the pressure of walking in your shoes
EVERY STEP THAT I TAKE IS ANOTHER MISTAKE TO YOU
- linkin park, “numb”
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
They’d piled some flattened cardboard for use as mattresses. Blankets threadbare, discarded and unwashed, but comforting all the same as Teth huddled in the shadow of the broken out window and stared up at what little of the night’s sky he could see for all the light generated by the city.
If it was possible, part of him actually missed the Reach.
The struggle. The fight. There had been a simplicity about it. Knowing who your enemy was. An enemy you could touch. Somehow, in victory, life felt like a slow, lingering defeat.
He rested his head against the crumbling plaster, shut his eyes, and tried – just for a moment – to ignore the hunger pains.
...he was on the run...
...something behind him...
...the moon was high overhead, the streets emptied out. But the alleys were familiar. Two blocks away. Almost to their place...
...he needed to get to the place...
...something grabbed him.
The ceiling exploded as a lightning bolt crashed down on the makeshift bed.
The cardboard ignited, the blanket smoldering as the child snapped to his feet garbed in the black outfit with the lightning emblazoned down the front.
Fists clenched, he was ready for a fight, against what he didn’t know. Gasping for breath, as though waiting for some ethereal boogeyman to jump out of the shadows at him.
But there was no danger.
So why did he have this feeling that something was very, very wrong.
Daylight was starting to trickle in through the shattered window, illuminating a detail that caused a sinking feeling in the starving boy.
Amir hadn’t slept here last night.
If it was possible, part of him actually missed the Reach.
The struggle. The fight. There had been a simplicity about it. Knowing who your enemy was. An enemy you could touch. Somehow, in victory, life felt like a slow, lingering defeat.
He rested his head against the crumbling plaster, shut his eyes, and tried – just for a moment – to ignore the hunger pains.
...he was on the run...
...something behind him...
...the moon was high overhead, the streets emptied out. But the alleys were familiar. Two blocks away. Almost to their place...
...he needed to get to the place...
...something grabbed him.
The ceiling exploded as a lightning bolt crashed down on the makeshift bed.
The cardboard ignited, the blanket smoldering as the child snapped to his feet garbed in the black outfit with the lightning emblazoned down the front.
Fists clenched, he was ready for a fight, against what he didn’t know. Gasping for breath, as though waiting for some ethereal boogeyman to jump out of the shadows at him.
But there was no danger.
So why did he have this feeling that something was very, very wrong.
Daylight was starting to trickle in through the shattered window, illuminating a detail that caused a sinking feeling in the starving boy.
Amir hadn’t slept here last night.
Have to take my kid to the doctor today, so my hands are full. I'll get the next chapter of Teth up tomorrow or Wednesday.
@Master Bruce@Sep As I start to lay the groundwork for what's over the horizon (not Teth's current story, but the one after), would there be any objection to Sivana Industries hosting The Agency and/or USG procurement folks with an autonomous weapon system billed as a possible replacement for the Iron Patriot program? This would be teased as the set up for Mr. Atom (Project A.T.O.M.) and factors into how I see Teth's story connecting with the larger plot, if that sounds like it could mesh with what you two are envisioning.
@Master Bruce@Sep As I start to lay the groundwork for what's over the horizon (not Teth's current story, but the one after), would there be any objection to Sivana Industries hosting The Agency and/or USG procurement folks with an autonomous weapon system billed as a possible replacement for the Iron Patriot program? This would be teased as the set up for Mr. Atom (Project A.T.O.M.) and factors into how I see Teth's story connecting with the larger plot, if that sounds like it could mesh with what you two are envisioning.
<Snipped quote by Bounce>
No. No, I'm not. Things happened mid-August that put me in a very difficult position. If I'm not able to bounce back by end of the month, I'll have to be done with RPing.
Apologies to whatever GMs still remain. I'll let you know if I'm able to continue within one week. If you feel you need to remove me for being inactive, that's okay.
Genuinely sorry to hear and hope that you can bounce back.
And with that, I'll get to work on a post.
You good over there?
Into the No Spider Verse
Decided to put up another chapter because I've got 3 more written and another halfway done.
PARIS
TWO YEARS EARLIER
A blue-gloved fist smashed against the beetle’s red armor.
While Mar-Vell and Red Beetle traded blows in the sky, Reach soldiers had taken position in the streets below. A line of footsoldiers dropped to one knee, leveling their polearms upward as the sound of some kind of energy spinning up began to hum.
“BLUE PUNCH BUGGY!”
A small, blue Volkswagen arced through the air, slamming into the line of soldiers and careening through the ranks of the Reach like a perverse game of bowling.
Blame it on someone showing Teth the animated film Lilo and Stitch.
Before the aliens could recover, the boy popped into the air and shouted, “SHAZAM!” as he extended a fist outward.
Lighting struck from above, connecting with the boy and exploding from out of his fist in multiple arcs that shot through those that were getting to their feet in an explosion of electricity that ripped up the road and sent dust and debris flying.
As the youth landed, the gauntlets around his wrist seemed to become liquid, flowing up into his hands as they shaped themselves into scimitars. Blood, limbs, and inhuman screams pierced the night, as the green-eyed child plowed through the ranks of the Reach like some kind of elemental demon, sparks shooting off his small frame as he weaved a dance of swords and cut a swath right down the avenue.
Blasted back through the air, Mar-Vell took advantage of the momentary gap between himself and the beetle to gauge how Teth was faring.
The boy’s lightning was arcing all around him, and the boy was utterly oblivious to the fires and sparks he was setting off. “KID, bring it down a notch!” the man managed to shout, before his attention was re-directed to an incoming pincer.
The head of a Reach soldier tumbled through the air, its former body falling while the boy clashed with four more at once.
Haughtily, the boy tossed back, “WHAT!? I’m kicking their as–”
An arc of lightning shot out from the child’s back, connecting with the fuel tank of a truck that had been overturned for use as a makeshift barricade.
The explosion sent the boy careening through the air.
“Fffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccc...”
The small hero's cry was silenced as he slammed, unceremoniously, into the side of the fabled Arc d’Triumph. As much as becoming one with the masonry ought to be a goal for all tourists visiting Paris, it seemed as though gravity wanted its turn as the dazed and confused child fell backward and slipped back toward the ground’s waiting embrace.
“Gravity’s a biiiiiiiitch!”
He had his eyes closed.
The last thing he’d seen, the street had been coming right at him. Well, honestly, it had probably been the reverse, but either way Teth had expected to meet the pavement.
But he should have hit by now.
Warily, he opened one green eye. The street was several feet below him still, the boy’s arms thrown up to protect himself, but he was standing perfectly still.
In mid air.
Blinking, the boy started to look around to orient himself to what had happened. Had something stopped him?
Which was when he realized he was hovering off the ground. Like, way off the ground.
Panic took hold. “shit shit shit sh–” the boy repeated, over and over, as he tried running and then swimming as he fought to get close enough to a street lamp that he could grab hold, hugging it with both arms and legs as he clung for dear life.
Just another thing that had happened to him since Shazam had died. Flying.
He hated flying.
While Mar-Vell and Red Beetle traded blows in the sky, Reach soldiers had taken position in the streets below. A line of footsoldiers dropped to one knee, leveling their polearms upward as the sound of some kind of energy spinning up began to hum.
“BLUE PUNCH BUGGY!”
A small, blue Volkswagen arced through the air, slamming into the line of soldiers and careening through the ranks of the Reach like a perverse game of bowling.
Blame it on someone showing Teth the animated film Lilo and Stitch.
Before the aliens could recover, the boy popped into the air and shouted, “SHAZAM!” as he extended a fist outward.
Lighting struck from above, connecting with the boy and exploding from out of his fist in multiple arcs that shot through those that were getting to their feet in an explosion of electricity that ripped up the road and sent dust and debris flying.
As the youth landed, the gauntlets around his wrist seemed to become liquid, flowing up into his hands as they shaped themselves into scimitars. Blood, limbs, and inhuman screams pierced the night, as the green-eyed child plowed through the ranks of the Reach like some kind of elemental demon, sparks shooting off his small frame as he weaved a dance of swords and cut a swath right down the avenue.
Blasted back through the air, Mar-Vell took advantage of the momentary gap between himself and the beetle to gauge how Teth was faring.
The boy’s lightning was arcing all around him, and the boy was utterly oblivious to the fires and sparks he was setting off. “KID, bring it down a notch!” the man managed to shout, before his attention was re-directed to an incoming pincer.
The head of a Reach soldier tumbled through the air, its former body falling while the boy clashed with four more at once.
Haughtily, the boy tossed back, “WHAT!? I’m kicking their as–”
An arc of lightning shot out from the child’s back, connecting with the fuel tank of a truck that had been overturned for use as a makeshift barricade.
The explosion sent the boy careening through the air.
“Fffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccc...”
The small hero's cry was silenced as he slammed, unceremoniously, into the side of the fabled Arc d’Triumph. As much as becoming one with the masonry ought to be a goal for all tourists visiting Paris, it seemed as though gravity wanted its turn as the dazed and confused child fell backward and slipped back toward the ground’s waiting embrace.
“Gravity’s a biiiiiiiitch!”
He had his eyes closed.
The last thing he’d seen, the street had been coming right at him. Well, honestly, it had probably been the reverse, but either way Teth had expected to meet the pavement.
But he should have hit by now.
Warily, he opened one green eye. The street was several feet below him still, the boy’s arms thrown up to protect himself, but he was standing perfectly still.
In mid air.
Blinking, the boy started to look around to orient himself to what had happened. Had something stopped him?
Which was when he realized he was hovering off the ground. Like, way off the ground.
Panic took hold. “shit shit shit sh–” the boy repeated, over and over, as he tried running and then swimming as he fought to get close enough to a street lamp that he could grab hold, hugging it with both arms and legs as he clung for dear life.
Just another thing that had happened to him since Shazam had died. Flying.
He hated flying.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
I AM NOTHING MORE THAN
a little boy inside
WHO CRIES OUT FOR ATTENTION, THOUGH I ALWAYS TRY TO HIDE
- staind, “fade”
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
I AM NOTHING MORE THAN
a little boy inside
WHO CRIES OUT FOR ATTENTION, THOUGH I ALWAYS TRY TO HIDE
- staind, “fade”
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
MOUNT CATHERINE
CURRENT DAY
The two lay on their backs, staring up at a cloudless night sky that stretched across the heavens.
It was the highest peak among Egypt’s mountains, a spot that they’d discovered two years prior, while investigating the Reach’s interest in the meteorological station on the side of the mountain. The ensuing fight had destroyed the small chapel that had been built at the summit.
Teth had helped to rebuild it after the Reach had departed, a fact which the media had buried in the reporting.
It was supposed to be a sacred place. The last thing anyone in this part of the world wanted was for it to become associated with the name Teth-Adam. Global views of so-called superheroes or metahumans aside, the longstanding cultural association with the name made it doubly damned.
“Are– are there really other planets up there?”
Mar-Vell turned his head, the surprise apparent for how remarkable it was. The boy went out of his way to keep everything at arm’s reach, so it was surprising to hear the naked curiosity in his voice and get a glimpse through that sour armor of the little boy inside.
“As many as there are grains of sands,” the soldier answered finally, turning his gaze back to the sky overhead.
Silence returned. After a moment, the Kree gestured with one hand, “You see the stars? Each is home to a system like yours. And that’s not even all of them by far,”
“I wish...”
The boy’s voice was unusually soft, stopped abruptly.
Turning his head, the man asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” the boy quipped sharply, turning his head so he was looking away.
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Mar-Vell thought for a moment that Teth had been crying.
“It was stupid,” the boy uttered dismissively, his typical abrasiveness returned as he tried to weaponize the conversation and turn it back on the Kree. ”The fuck are you doing here? You’re ‘sposed to be punching the Reach in the nuts or whatever.”
Cocking a brow, the man let the question hang in the air before he finally answered, simply, ”I wanted to check on you.”
The comment seemed to pass right through Teth’s armor for a moment. An innocent glint in otherwise jaded emerald eyes, as if what the man had said was what the boy had been hoping to hear.
But somewhere, once upon a time, the boy had learned that it was the hope that kills you.
Those jaded irises flicked away. ”-tch-”, the boy spat, sitting up before blurting out, “I don’t need you.”
He didn’t need anyone.
“Fair,” the man replied in a deliberately neutral tone as he sat up. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned.”
He reached out a hand toward the boy’s shoulder.
...and recoiled back as a bolt of lightning snapped violently between them, Teth looking away, hugging his knees against his chest.
Awkwardly trying to find something to do with his outstretched hand – cross his arms? Fold them in his lap? – Mar-Vell tried to smooth over things by elaborating. “I came across a bounty hunter on Cestus III. He was looking for an escaped criminal. Quite nasty, if he was being honest by any of it. He was headed for Tamaran, but thought your Sol System could be another likely hiding spot.”
“heh” the boy huffed, a sarcastic bite to his words as he snapped, “Just what we need. More aliens.”
Then the boy seemed to pause. His eyes wide as embarrassment seemed to take hold. Glancing at Mar-Vell, only to look away again, the child stammered, “I... I didn’t...”
“No offense?” the man offered in jest. “From you? The kid who tries to offend everyone?”
The child’s dusky tone had turned a bright red, his face practically glowing, though the boy’s embarrassment quickly turned to irritation as he turned on the man again. “Okay, fuck you and the Martians you flew in with, or whatever.”
“You know I’m Kree, right?”
“Whatever!” Teth blurted aloud, popping to his feet and throwing his arms up into the air.
The boy made his way over to the edge of the outcropping that the two had been stargazing upon, one foot shifting anxiously as he peered off the edge.
Getting to his feet, the soldier asked, “What’s the matter?”
Digging into the earth with one toe, the boy turned back. Once again, Mar-Vell was struck at the vivid reminder that Teth was a child. “Can you fly me back? I kinda want to find something to eat,” he asked, fidgeting with his arms.
The impression of need brought a quiet laugh from the Kree. “Still afraid to fly on your own?”
Teth felt his face burn even hotter, his hair standing on end as goosebumps crawled up his spine. “I am not afraid,” the boy snapped, with a sudden burst of thunder echoing through the mountains to punctuate the child’s plea.
Bristling, the child turned away as he explained, “I just want to conserve my energy.”
“Isn’t your energy source the planet itself?”
“Shut up!”
It was the highest peak among Egypt’s mountains, a spot that they’d discovered two years prior, while investigating the Reach’s interest in the meteorological station on the side of the mountain. The ensuing fight had destroyed the small chapel that had been built at the summit.
Teth had helped to rebuild it after the Reach had departed, a fact which the media had buried in the reporting.
It was supposed to be a sacred place. The last thing anyone in this part of the world wanted was for it to become associated with the name Teth-Adam. Global views of so-called superheroes or metahumans aside, the longstanding cultural association with the name made it doubly damned.
“Are– are there really other planets up there?”
Mar-Vell turned his head, the surprise apparent for how remarkable it was. The boy went out of his way to keep everything at arm’s reach, so it was surprising to hear the naked curiosity in his voice and get a glimpse through that sour armor of the little boy inside.
“As many as there are grains of sands,” the soldier answered finally, turning his gaze back to the sky overhead.
Silence returned. After a moment, the Kree gestured with one hand, “You see the stars? Each is home to a system like yours. And that’s not even all of them by far,”
“I wish...”
The boy’s voice was unusually soft, stopped abruptly.
Turning his head, the man asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” the boy quipped sharply, turning his head so he was looking away.
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Mar-Vell thought for a moment that Teth had been crying.
“It was stupid,” the boy uttered dismissively, his typical abrasiveness returned as he tried to weaponize the conversation and turn it back on the Kree. ”The fuck are you doing here? You’re ‘sposed to be punching the Reach in the nuts or whatever.”
Cocking a brow, the man let the question hang in the air before he finally answered, simply, ”I wanted to check on you.”
The comment seemed to pass right through Teth’s armor for a moment. An innocent glint in otherwise jaded emerald eyes, as if what the man had said was what the boy had been hoping to hear.
But somewhere, once upon a time, the boy had learned that it was the hope that kills you.
Those jaded irises flicked away. ”-tch-”, the boy spat, sitting up before blurting out, “I don’t need you.”
He didn’t need anyone.
“Fair,” the man replied in a deliberately neutral tone as he sat up. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned.”
He reached out a hand toward the boy’s shoulder.
...and recoiled back as a bolt of lightning snapped violently between them, Teth looking away, hugging his knees against his chest.
Awkwardly trying to find something to do with his outstretched hand – cross his arms? Fold them in his lap? – Mar-Vell tried to smooth over things by elaborating. “I came across a bounty hunter on Cestus III. He was looking for an escaped criminal. Quite nasty, if he was being honest by any of it. He was headed for Tamaran, but thought your Sol System could be another likely hiding spot.”
“heh” the boy huffed, a sarcastic bite to his words as he snapped, “Just what we need. More aliens.”
Then the boy seemed to pause. His eyes wide as embarrassment seemed to take hold. Glancing at Mar-Vell, only to look away again, the child stammered, “I... I didn’t...”
“No offense?” the man offered in jest. “From you? The kid who tries to offend everyone?”
The child’s dusky tone had turned a bright red, his face practically glowing, though the boy’s embarrassment quickly turned to irritation as he turned on the man again. “Okay, fuck you and the Martians you flew in with, or whatever.”
“You know I’m Kree, right?”
“Whatever!” Teth blurted aloud, popping to his feet and throwing his arms up into the air.
The boy made his way over to the edge of the outcropping that the two had been stargazing upon, one foot shifting anxiously as he peered off the edge.
Getting to his feet, the soldier asked, “What’s the matter?”
Digging into the earth with one toe, the boy turned back. Once again, Mar-Vell was struck at the vivid reminder that Teth was a child. “Can you fly me back? I kinda want to find something to eat,” he asked, fidgeting with his arms.
The impression of need brought a quiet laugh from the Kree. “Still afraid to fly on your own?”
Teth felt his face burn even hotter, his hair standing on end as goosebumps crawled up his spine. “I am not afraid,” the boy snapped, with a sudden burst of thunder echoing through the mountains to punctuate the child’s plea.
Bristling, the child turned away as he explained, “I just want to conserve my energy.”
“Isn’t your energy source the planet itself?”
“Shut up!”
<Snipped quote by Bounce>
Yeah and what about Starks sexual conquest Reporter #5?
Two things can be true at once. Perhaps Metropolis' thirstiest gossip columnist was also Reporter #5.
Though I guess modern interpretations have made her more "boss ass bitch" than thirsty.
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