by Stuart Moore
If I hadn’t stopped him, Kamala thought, he might have killed Russell. A kid who did nothing but punch him on the arm.
She’d given Halla-ar the benefit of the doubt. Because people at school were cruel to him; because he looked different from them. He seemed to need a friend, and she wanted to be that friend.
But someone had destroyed his planet. Someone had deliberately set all this in motion. The Guardians believed that, and the Kree seemed to believe it too.
Could it be an angry teenage boy? A boy who hated his homeworld and almost everyone on it?
The ship was still rising; the combatants became small figures below. Gamora lunged, pressing Halla-ar up against the factory wall. The other Kree closed in, cheering for one side or the other.
No, Kamala thought, I can’t abandon him. I can’t let some green lady slice off his head! No matter what he’s done, no matter what he might be.
I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I did. Or an Avenger, either.
She shifted, loosening her grip on the axle assembly. Gritting her teeth, she stretched her entire body… eight feet, then ten…reaching toward the ground below. Wind whipped against her; her torso rippled back and forth. As the factory drew near and the ship turned to rise above its roof, she opened her eyes wide and let go.
Chapter 19
Stark swooped and lunged through the air like a living weapon, firing off repulsor rays from one hand, then the other. Quill danced and leaped along the pier, dodging the beams, struggling to get a bead on his airborne foe.
Kir-ra sat up against the fence, watching the two men fight. She twirled the cold rod idly in one hand; she’d only managed to bring a few of the weapons with her on the evac ship. Now this one was totaled, completely wrecked. Another piece of her past, gone forever.
Jer-ra, the crewcutted Kree worker, approached, holding out a rag. “You want to clean up?” he asked, indicating her nose.
“No,” she said, waving him out of the way. “I like the blood.”
“Thanks. For fighting for us.”
She nodded absently. He shrugged and started back toward the other Kree, who stood on the mainland, in front of the factory building.
A trio of repulsor rays blasted into the pier, throwing up shards of wood all around Quill. With a swipe of his hand, he clicked his faceplate down and took to the air. Stark just leaned back in midair, arms folded, watching him approach – then swatted out hard, knocking the Guardian across the sky.
Stupid men, Kir-ra thought. I should let them fight; I should let them destroy themselves. Stark had lured her people to this planet and then cruelly abused them. Quill had pursued the Kree, seeking vengeance for… something. One was an oligarch, the other a lawless bounty hunter.
If they were to kill each other, then maybe… maybe her people could be free…
Before Quill could recover, Stark blasted him again. Quill let out a huffing noise and flailed, then started to drop. “Aw, no,” he said, looking down. “Not the Long Island Sound!”
“I told you,” Stark replied, “it’s clean as a baby’s bottom.”
“I ain’t going swimming in that either!”
Mere inches above the water, Quill whipped his gun out and fired – straight down. A burst of air shot out, then another, slowing his momentum. Kir-ra could feel the fury in him, even with his face hidden.
“Say your prayers, Richie Rich,” he hissed.
If Stark had a reply, he never got it out. Quill flew right into him, grabbing hold of those metal shoulders with a clang and a loud scrape. He swung the gun around, aiming it straight at the exposed arc reactor on Stark’s chest.
Stark sighed, reached out, and grabbed Quill’s gun arm. They struggled, locked together, neither one giving an inch. Kir-ra watched them grapple, reaching out to probe with Sen-Zha training. Stark seemed to have the upper hand; certainly, his weapons were more potent. But that power source on his chest was still exposed, glowing brighter now, and she could sense that he was more vulnerable than he seemed. His body temperature was elevated, his heart pounding fast.
And yet he’d jumped back into battle as soon as he could, distracting the cowboy’s attention from… well, from her and her people. Why? Maybe the two men held an old grudge against each other. Maybe Stark just wanted to protect his property, the Kree servants he’d worked so hard to bring to Earth.
Or maybe, just maybe, he was trying to do the right thing.
Slowly but steadily, Stark forced Quill’s gun barrel up between the two men’s faces. “Fascinating piece of hardware,” he said. “You call it an element gun, right?”
Quill winced. Stark held on tight; his boot-jets kept the two of them hovering in place. He raised his other hand and unleashed a pinpoint beam from a device in the thumb. It sizzled against the gun’s barrel, glowing white at the point of contact.
“Huh,” Stark continued. “It’s designed to reshape matter at the basic building-block level, but it’s limited to four or five configurations. You should really get an expansion pack.”
“Wh- What are you doing?”
“Just a little product review. Oh, you mean this?” He glanced at the beam emanating from his thumb. “It’s an atomic force microscope. Comes in handy when I need to get down to the nano level.”
Quill struggled, shifting the gun in his hand. But Stark held his wrist tight.
“Here’s the fun part,” Stark said. “If I can hack into this thing’s firmware, I can alter its basic programming.”
“M- My gun has programming?”
“Yeah it does!” Stark deactivated his microscope beam. Then, keeping careful hold of Quill’s arm, he swung the gun so it pointed away. “Try it now.”
Quill frowned and squirmed, but he couldn’t break Stark’s grip. Reluctantly, half closing one eye, he tightened his finger on the trigger.
A clod of dirt squeezed its way out of the barrel and fell to the water with a dull splash. Then a few drops of water. A little flame flickered up, and a puff of air extinguished the flame with a humiliating flatulent noise.
“What…” Quill shook the gun at Stark. “What did you do to my gun?”
“Locked it into a diagnostic mode,” Stark said. “You know, like when you order an inkjet to print out a few basic patterns?”
“You turned it into a fart gun!”
“That’s just a humorous side-effect.”
Quill kicked out, enraged, and broke Stark’s grip. The Guardian aimed his gun and fired off two more flatulent bursts.
Stark laughed. “Better trademark that fart gun, Quill. Before I get my lawyers on it.”
Quill kept firing. Water burbled out, then fire – and this time he got lucky. The flames licked up against Stark’s chest reactor, raising sparks. Stark clutched at his chest and began to fall.
“Ha!” Quill cried, thrusting his gloved fist into the reactor. Electricity crackled up the Guardian’s arm. He howled, arching his back in pain. Stark grabbed hold of him and together they tumbled down, landing with a crash that shook the whole pier.
Enough, Kir-ra thought. She tossed her rod-weapon aside and strode out onto the pier. She could hear Jer-ra and the others behind her, urging her to stay back. But she kept moving, toward the two costumed men rolling around in close combat.
She turned and called to Jer-ra: “Wait for my signal!”
And then she was running, sprinting at full speed out across the pier. The two men had risen to their knees, grappling again. Stark shot repulsors wildly, while Quill jabbed his gloved hand into that arc reactor again and again, raising sparks.
They didn’t even notice her approach. She circled them, dancing, until Quill turned his back to her, and then she lunged. Grabbing hold of his arm from behind, she twisted him up and away from Stark, onto his feet. His face was covered, but she could hear the yelp of surprise as she lifted him briefly into the
air – he was heavier than he looked! – and slammed him face-down into the pier.
Quill retracted his faceplate, blinking in surprise. He scrabbled backward and crabwalked away, gasping for breath.
Stark was on his knees, holding a hand over his damaged chest reactor. She crossed to him and, taking hold of his cold metal arm, pulled him to his feet.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice filtered by that imposing helmet. “You, uh, you know who I am?”
“I know,” she said.
Quill waited at the tip of the pier, crouched down in a defensive position with his back to the water. In the other direction, the Kree workers waited at the fence. Kir-ra lifted her arm and made a brief hand motion to them.
“That your backup?” Stark asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I just told them to advance, but slowly.”
Quill rose to his feet. He let out an angry snarl and charged.
“Tell ’em to shield their eyes,” Stark said. “You too.”
She blinked. “I don’t have a hand signal for that.”
“Oh. Well–”
“Shield your eyes!” she yelled.
The Kree paused in their advance, raising their hands to their faces.
Quill stopped short too, a puzzled look on his exposed face. “What?” he said.
She squeezed her own eyes shut just as Stark let off a blinding flash of light from his armor. She heard Quill cry out in pain. When she opened her eyes, he was standing, dazed and blinded, just a few feet away.
“Well,” Stark began, “not everyone would have fallen for that, but…”
Kir-ra leaped, somersaulting toward the disoriented Quill. She paused, perfectly motionless, standing on her hands – as still as a tree. Then she reached out with both legs and grabbed him around the waist in a scissor-grip.
“Uh!” she cried. He was heavy!
She cast her senses outward, mapping the entire area in an instant. Stark stood here; the edge of the pier was there. And Jer-ra’s crew was on the move… veering left, toward the broken shack, giving Stark a wide berth…
With a grunt, she bent her arms, lifted Quill between her legs, and tossed him into the air. Still blinded, he cried out and landed in the waiting arms of Jer-ra and the others.
“Hey guys,” Quill said, “what do you… Hey! Give me my gun back!”
“The fart gun?” Jer-ra asked.
Kir-ra tumbled back onto her feet and dropped into a crouch. Stark had retracted his helmet and stood right next to her, a serious look on his face.
“I owe you,” he said.
“I will hold you to that,” she replied.
He raised an eyebrow at the hard edge in her voice. Then he nodded.
“Guys,” Quill said, “I really don’t want to hurt you. Just let go of me–”
“Quill!” Stark called, advancing toward the Kree. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?”
Quill looked up. The Kree held him now, though Kir-ra knew he was powerful enough to break free. But when he heard Stark’s words, he seemed to slump down, defeated, as if all the air had gone out of him.
“Maybe,” he said.
Stark reached out a hand. Quill accepted it, and the Kree let him go. “Sorry,” he said to them. “I might have, well, overreacted.” He grimaced at Kir-ra. “Sorry, ma’am.” She gave him a noncommittal nod, stepping back to join the other Kree.
They all turned to survey the battle scene. Girders lay strewn everywhere; the pier itself was pocked with holes. One of the water supports had buckled, creating a dangerous drop-off at one corner of the pier.
“Let’s all…” Tony Stark grimaced. “Let’s just take a minute, huh?”
Chapter 20
Tony sat on a cinderblock, consulting his toolbox. It hovered in midair, the shelves piled with tools, nanometers, and assorted circuitry. He selected a quantum screwdriver and touched it gently to his arc reactor.
“Easy,” he told himself. “One wrong twist, and this will go quite badly…”
He felt the familiar jump in his heart, a skipped beat, as the reactor re-engaged. Tony no longer required the arc reactor to power his heart, but the two were permanently linked. That, above all else, had convinced him some time ago that he would always be Iron Man, like it or not.
He pulled down his helmet with a mental command. The heads-up display showed a rising power level: five percent… six… eight…
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he subvocalized, “any word from Jen and Ms Marvel?”
“No communications,” the voice replied, “and no response to my pings. I do have an update on your Kree work program inquiry.”
“Put a pin in that, but remind me later. What about that backup I called for?”
“Arrival is imminent. Meanwhile, there seems to be a commotion out behind the factory building, near the bus station. Oh, and the Melter is still at large.”
“Oh, no. Dire news for ice cream fans everywhere–”
“Dude?”
Tony willed his helmet to open. Peter Quill stood there fidgeting, a sheepish look on his face. “Sorry about your, you know,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the edge of the pier. “Shack.”
Tony stared past him to the pile of tin and lumber that had once been Shackie. At the edge of the pier, Kir-ra stood alone, facing the water, her body perfectly still. Tony craned his neck around and scanned the neglected grassy field, then looked up. He winced at the sight of his shattered office window, a tiny jagged gap in a huge white facade.
“Don’t sweat it, Quill,” he said. “Some things belong in the past.”
He waved a hand, sending the toolbox wafting back up toward his office. Then he reached down and picked up his reactor cover, newly recovered from the water. He shook off the last drops, picked off a tangled strand of seaweed, and snapped the cover back on his chest.
“You, uh, you good?” Quill asked.
“It’ll take me a few minutes to recharge.”
“I get it. Not enough power, right?”
“Actually, too much. The reboot has to be gradual, otherwise… Quill, what are you doing here? What do you want, anyway?”
The Guardian frowned. “Well, I kinda wanted to apologize–”
“Where is your ship? For that matter, where’s your girlfriend?”
“I, uh, I wouldn’t call her that exactly. We’re still figuring out–”
“Quill! Buddy! Can you just focus here, for one minute? For me?” Tony felt another headache coming on. “You followed a trail to Earth looking for some animal, mineral, or vegetable that you believe blew up the planet Praeterus. Thus setting in motion events that will no doubt leave me remembered as the greatest sweatshop owner in history. Do I have all that right?”
“Pretty much.” Quill pulled up a cinderblock and sat down. “My ship ducked down behind the sweatshop – uh, the big factory building there – about the time you and me started our…” He grinned, shadowboxing for a second. “But I’m sure Rocket and Groot can handle themselves.”
“I’ll check it out in a few.” Tony pulled down the HUD for a second and noted the power level: thirty-two percent. “And then we’ll have to figure out about the Kree.”
“But like I was saying, Stark,” Quill persisted, “I really want to say I’m sorry. We got so ragey about our dead pal, we just slammed down onto your turf hard. I should have at least called first! Even if you are the greatest labor villain since–”
“Quill, you got stuff to do, right? Space stuff? Important space stuff, maybe?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Quill pulled out a handheld device. “Guess I should call the ship, check out the, the sitch.”
“Yeah, you do that. That’s what you do in space, right? Hailing frequencies, whatever.”
Tony stood up and started toward the edge of the pier. Quill called out another
apology, but Tony ignored him.
Kir-ra was staring out over the fog-draped sound. He came up behind her, weighing various opening remarks, but she spoke first.
“Can you ever see the land?” She didn’t turn to look at him. “On the other side?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “On a clear day.”
She bowed her head. “I can’t imagine one of those.”
“Ah, we’re talking in metaphor. Good, I like to keep track.”
He studied her sharp blue face. Was that a hint of a smile?
“Your friends sure lit out of here fast,” he said. “Where are they now?”
“Hiding.” She gave him a hard look. “Do you blame them?”
“You’re not hiding. You’re one tough lady.”
She shook her head and turned back toward the water. “I’m scared out of my mind,” she said, almost inaudibly. “Every second of my life.”
“Listen.” He turned to address her directly. “My armor will take approximately six minutes to become flightworthy again. After that, my second move will be to inspect this complex thoroughly and get to the bottom of these working conditions. I would love for you to accompany me.”
“Your second move?” She frowned. “What’s the first?”
“Ah.” He gestured toward Quill, who was shaking his comm device in frustration. “That would be to make sure Peter Porcupine and his pals are grounded for a while.”
“I am more concerned with his female companion.” She clenched her fists. “We’ll meet again, she and I.”
“That’s part of the, uh, grounding I mentioned. But one vendetta at a time.” He turned back to her, serious. “I realize I’m not your favorite person right now–”
“You lured my people here on false pretenses! You treat them like animals, starve their children–”
“I had no knowledge of that – and like I told you, I’ll get to the bottom of it. Whatever is happening here, I swear it ends today. No matter what.”
