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Reports of a UFO seen hovering and doing aerial maneuvers not possible by plane high above Bed Pan Alley have brought a few curious New York residents out on a cold and cloudy November night. New York's Finest also investigated, initially, but upon witnessing nothing unusual in the skies over Bellevue, and having no venue to check further, they quickly cleared the scene with a patented, 'No contact, Dispatch.' to seek warmer environs and await the next radio call. Columbia College students packing into a VW microbus to head over and 'check out the Martian invasion' was witnessed by Dr. Walt Lawson as he left campus for the evening, however. Having both an inherent interest in such things, and a means to check in ways regular Terran authorities didn't, Lawson wasted no time making a quick wardrobe change.
Which is why, now, the superhero known as Captain Marvel flies across the cityscape over Hospital Row, keen to catch a glimpse of the mysterious airborne object. With the Terran's discovery of a Skrull body recently, and the very public revelation that humans are not alone in the universe, Mar-Vell would like nothing better than locating a Skrull scout ship, with living members of that race aboard. Kree interrogation techniques can be quite persuasive, and while conducting such sessions isn't something Mar-Vell enjoys, there are questions his Empire needs answers to. Answers which may prevent Earth becoming a Skrull beachhead, and the military campaign that would surely follow as the full might of the Kree Empire's space fleet was brought to bear dislodging the invaders. All as a prelude, of course, to the Kree turning the little blue world into their own outpost, and the millions of civilian casualties that would result in the transition. Where the Skrulls are concerned, the Empire is interested in territory above all; collateral damage is not part of the final and official equation.
So far, however, Captain Marvel's pursuit has found nothing concrete. Amplified within his battle helm, though, and audible to his Kree hearing, there is an occasional buzzing noise, and it originates from somewhere behind those dark overhead clouds reflecting the gauzy shimmer of an autumn full moon.
*
The biting rain for the day never seemed to give up as it still pattered down, bring all the more chill to the crisp evening of autumn. There was talk of 'aliens' now, some having blown up buildings, and the Fantastic Four having saved the day. Before that, Central Park had been a hub of demonic activity. The Big Apple; The Town That Never Sleeps.
There was no real reason for the dark skinned girl with large, floofy hair to be walking this way after her shift in Harlem. If anything, it was just that, a walk, without purpose or destination at this time. Her shoulders were hunched and her hands were deep within the pockets of her already soaked through sweater-jacket. Her hair was parted down the middle, forced down by the weather, and fanning out to either side of her face. Some kinks clung around her face and throat, tendrils of jet that twist and cross with one another as droplets roll down her face and lithe figure all together.
*
In the way that humans do, a group mills about the exterior of Bellevue Hospital as if waiting for something to happen. And, as humans do, when most of that group are peering intently skyward, they are soon joined by others, unaware of the reports, but doing the same thing. They number enough to block the sidwalks and, in at least one section, spill out onto the street forcing traffic to go around them. A few also carry cameras. The dark skinned girl soon finds her path blocked by the group, unless she wishes to cross the avenue to continue on. That's when one onlooker points skyward and calls out, "It's that Captain Marvel guy! He's staking the place out, too! Gotta be somethin' going on!"
The green-and-white clad Mar-Vell uses his jet belt to fly above the group, then lands as they part on his approach. Last thing he needs for a Skrull confrontation is a gaggle of spellbound onlookers, but it seems part of the package for now. "Folks," he calls out, "this may not be exactly the safest place in New York right now. I'm not finding anything so far, but people claim to have seen an unidentified flying object near the hospital section." Even as he speaks, the buzzing noise from above sharpens, changes pitch, and becomes louder.
*
Lynette slows her steps as she comes upon the group. She stalls some good five feet away from them, and then side steps to head in another direction. She wasn't planning on joining the gawkers, only offering the skies a passive glance before she returns her attentions to where she's walking. When a costumed character arrives, however, she pauses to look him over and to listen. No only was the city full of dangers, it was also full of others with powers.
Shaking her head, and rubbing at one of her ears, the girl glances upward once that noise begins anew. At first, she's looking toward lights, seeing if the bulbs are out of if the neon is just on its last legs. Away from the collective, and heading into an alley to cross to another block, the mambo-in-training continues to keep to herself, and the protection of the shadows.
*
Emerging from the billowing shroud wafting across the city sky, the UFO suddenly appears. The intermittent buzzing also becomes a steady drone, plain to everyone on the street below, Kree and human alike. Lunar light reflects off a bristly carapace broken into a striped, insectoid thorax. Huge and multi-lensed eyes glow with an inner fire, like looming scarlet headlights, as the creature scouts for a place to land. Long, translucent wings are mere blurs as they batter the air, creating the noise of a fly equal in size to an automobile descending toward the street.
While all but a few of the rubber-necking crowd remained planted firmly as Mar-Vell spoke, the appearance of something from a horror B-movie above them compels many to disperse. But the tendency toward panic is also triggered, and those fleeing run into the street and into other pedestrians. A few try to snap quick pictures of the thing, adding to confustion as their flash bulbs blind their fellows. Captain Marvel grits beneath the metallic cowling of his helmet and takes aim at the thing with some kind of wrist weapon as he mutters, "Hala! This can't be a good thing…"
*
Lynette jumps a bit, surprised by both the view, and the sudden rush of fear that falls over people. She, however, remains in the darkness for now; watching, waiting. Once the being from another world arrives, her dark eyes grow large like saucers, and a few soft words escape her lips without a thought. "Dat's a big bug." The screaming, the 'pink-snap' of lights, and then the figure aiming for the creature already finally draws the Creole from her position. "Wait!" She calls over toward the figure on green. "Wait! Don' jus' shoot it. Christ, dat de only reaction people got now'days?"
Now standing close to Mar-Vell, she rests a hand on his arm in a gentle urging for him to lower his weapon. Her youthful expression softens, apologeticly, as she turns and faces the creature that stands in the street now, taking up the same space as the number of vehicles that have come to a sudden stop.
*
Mar-Vell has a unibeam blast ready, but with so many people scrambling about, the shot won't be a clean one now that the giant insect has set down on the pavement. Its actions are quick, jerky, and it knocks over a trash can and a mailbox as it scuttles in its insect manner, looking for something. At least it's no longer a moving target.
But just as the Kree warrior prepares to fire, he feels the young woman's hand on his arm. Her words compel him, her compassion gives him pause. It's not the first time he's encountered that among the natives here; it is one of their best and brightest qualities. Captain Marvel lowers his arm part of the way, no longer lining up the shot, and replies, "If you have a more peaceful solution, young lady, I'm open to suggestions." He keeps one eyes on the thing still scrabbling across the asphalt and adds, "But please be careful. I ran into something similar in Grover's Mill a few weeks ago. Those creatures were very deadly. And people were on their menu."
*
"S'lution? F'what? Don' even know what's lookin' for." She murmurs, watching the massive thing skitter about. Her eyes roll up, noting the heavy clouded sky, and then back down to the creature that came from it. Her grip tightens on Mar-Vell's arm, a hint of hesitation, and even fear there. But soon, she releases him, and takes a few steady steps toward the fly-thing. "H-hi." She greets it, moving a hand, waving toward one of it's massive ruby eyes. "Ah, welcome. Don' suppose y'speak English?" She pauses, "Ou francais? Je parle francais aussi." Nibbling nervously at her lower lip, she glances over her shoulder and through a thick curtain of her bushy hair, back toward the man in green and white. Then, her attentions return to the alien and its search for…something.
*
The giant fly skitters, more agitated as the young woman steps toward it. Captain Marvel lets her go first, but when she looks back, he joins her, remaining a half-step behind. He can make sure she's out of any damage path if the creature becomes violent. The Kree warrior nods, a half-smile visible under his mask. "You're right," he admits quietly. "Maybe this isn't a case of swatting first and asking questions later. It's certainly looking for something." As the young woman speaks to it, the fly watches her, never quite coming to a halt in its shifting of stance. Then it slowly raises its head as if to sniff the air. The huge, crimson-eyed thing slowly angles its body toward Bellevue Hospital.
The giant insect, apparently homing on its goal, ignores the two people before it and suddenly tears an erratic flightpath from the ground, dodging nimbly around a lamp post. Only when the thing is beyond Bellevue proper does it light again, secreted behind a cover of trees and heavy thicket which borders a mostly unkempt graveyard.
*
Its shift and speed causes Lynette to take a couple steps back and away from it. Not wishing to drive it toward her in an aggressive manner, her hands are up, palms out, showing she meant no harm, and had no weapons. Watching its movements, she passes her tongue along her lips, allowing it to rest in the air for a moment and drinking in whatever smells there might be in the area. Instantly she gags, one of her hands moving to clamp around her mouth to keep whatever was in her stomach in place. The kick up of air from its wings didn't help.
Coughing, the girl shakes her head and reclaims her senses. She gives the man in a suit another look, before jogging off to find out where the fly had gone to, and why. Another flick of her tongue sends a shudder of disgust through her petite form. Within a few seconds, she finds herself at the graveyard.
*
Captain Marvel moves alongside the young woman, jogging toward the headstones and overgrown section of the hospital grounds. Only when they are almost there does the smell worsen enough to register with Mar-Vell, and make him react by pressing a stud on his belt. A plexiglass shield slides down into place over the lower half of his face.
Just beyond the old cemetery, apparently once a viable part of the hospital grounds as a final Potter's Field resting place for those bodies unclaimed, rests a shattered wooden door. It was apparently once set into the entryway of a very small shed. Further examination, however, reveals not a shed, but a covered opening to some subterranean tunnel running beneath the hospital. This is the apparent destination of the fly, though it is no longer visible. There are, however, figures rising from the concrete stairs.
Moonlight beams through the overcast night sky to reveal the first arrival from the subterranean confines: It's a man, dressed in flannel pajamas, a terrycloth robe hanging loosely from its skeletal shoulders. Or, perhaps it once was a man. Now, it shambles slowly, stiffly, a blank expression painted across a visage that is in an advanced stage of deterioration. Like a walking corpse, the thing blinks clouded eyes as they adjust to the illumination of the night and the city lights beyond, and green teeth gnash as it transmits wordlessly a single, overriding emotion. Hunger.
Captain Marvel takes a step back, seeing more figures behind the lead human automaton, and recalling a film he'd gone to see during the recent 'Halloween' season. What were the human monsters called? He recalls the theater poster. "Young pawns thrust into pulsating cages of horror in a sadistic experiment!""A crazed female scientist uses nerve gas to turn local teenagers into her unquestioning slaves!" For some reason, there was also a menacing gorilla in the mix, but the controlled teens were called something else that Mar-Vell had to research later under Folklore at the college library. "Zombies," he finally recalls, from the title of the flick, 'Teenage Zombies'. It was a double-bill, along with 'The Dead One', which had animated human corpses even more like the ones ambling toward him now.
*
Lynette parts her mouth to speak, but that sudden rush of decomp hammers across her tongue, causing her to turn in place and look pale with nausea. Her fingers dig at the slick collar of her shirt. Pulling it up, she drapes it over her mouth and nose, holding in in places as she mutters a soft curse in French under her breath. She knew what it was, but in all her years had never seen one in person.
Giving their surroundings the once over, the girl then moves her hands out, flexing them, moving each digit carefully. Those dark eyes dye themselves a solid jade, leaving nothing but a slitted pupil in their middle. The overgrown collection of grass and weeds shift and sway, before starting to flap and curl around the shambling legs of the undead horror.
*
The young woman seems to Mar-Vell close to being, as the humans term it, 'unwell'. In Kree fleet parlance, it's called 'splatter-painting the airlock'. But just as he thinks she's been overcome, instead she rallies and exhibits Abilities. Another human being with powers beyond those of most, the sort he's been very cautious telling his superiors about as he encouners more varied and powerful metahumans. As she compels the plant life to entangle the shambling zombie, Captain Marvel raises his unibeam weapon again, setting the lens for a solar heat blast. But before firing, he consults the young lady. "I don't think there's any reasoning or parlez to be had with these creatures. Agreed?"
The animated corpse, one in a line of other such beings, men and women in varying stages of decomposition and some bearing the unmistakale Y marks of autopsy, finds its legs suddenly wrapped and held by the living thicket, vines and weeds encircling its lower torso. It pulls against the barrier, but so far, the strands hold.
*
"Shoot it!" The girl insists as her hands grip into fists to help keep the plants 'holding' to the figure that is one of many. "Dey dead, chere. Dey need t'stay dat way." She explains as her snake-like eyes focus on the rest in quick succession.
*
That's when Mar-Vell notes the odd change in the girl's eyes. Now they gleam green with a serpeintine intelligence, uncomfortably close to the eyes of a Skrull when it engages in combat. Not the same, but similar enough to give him a moment's pause before he nods to her and levels his arm at the line of shamblers. A wave of heat issues forth, hot enough to create thermal disturbance in the air between the duo and their targets. Impact rocks the creatures back, and with a loud *whumppfff!*, their clothes and flesh ignite. The ones further back, also caught in the wave but not held by the vines, try to stagger onward but quickly fall into burning heaps of once-human refuse. The ones held by the young woman's plant growth powers also light up like torches and crash to the ground.
The one nearest them shudders even while the greedy blaze consumes it, and then Mar-Vell and the girl see the reason. As the body is consumed, something inside wriggles and twitches, struggling to escape the cleansing heat. The zombie's mouth opens wide, far too wide for any human, with an accompanying sound of cracking jawbone. A white slug-like ting with stripes along its back scrambles out in its worming way, and inches across the ground to save itself. "Larvae?" Captain Marvel asks, peering back at the girl. "A nest. She was looking for her nest."
*
With the ruin of corpses and plants alike, her grip conceeds to the man in green's victory. The overgrowth, what's left of it, ceases to move in any specific manner, its animation stopping completely, with the except of what comes natural due to physical touch and the passage of wind and rain. The girl's eyes shift then, the green washing back to reveal whites, and the onyx hue of her natural irises. "W-what'd we do 'bout dat? We can' have dem walkin' round n'hurtin' people." She decides, glancing up toward Mar-Vell, waiting for his answer.
There's that look in her face, one of some trust broken already. She had gone toward the fly like creature with peace in mind, only to find that its nest was something horrid. "W-we destroyin' dem. Dese people's remains. Dey rest. Ain't right." She frowns, eyeing the dead as her nose twitches with some inner sense of morality and respect.
*
Memories of the giant ant colony in Grover's Mill flood into Mar-Vell's mind, and he feels certain this is more of the same metahuman work: Insects transformed into giant and dangerous versions of their normal form, then unleashed on humanity. If a carrion fly was changed in that way, and in such a rural locale, where would it be drawn? To a nearby centralized place teeming with the waste, dead bodies, and refuse of humanity. In short, New York City. And given the airborne capability of a giant fly like this one, it wouldn't even be much of a trip to get here.
His revelry is broken by the young woman's question, as Captain Marvel watches other giant maggots joining the first, fleeing their former 'homes' as they burn. He turns and notes the return of her eyes to their normal color, and his tone is gentle as he takes stock of her expression. "I'll make certain the remains of these people get a decent burial, and markers if we can identify them. But for the moment, the things that did this to the bodies has to be stopped. In the insect world, their is role, dominance, and procreation. These larvae, if given a chance, will each grow into a fly the size of their mother. And then reproduce. I'm wagering there's a morgue or storage area down below, and eggs are being laid there to create more of these zombie things. We can't let that cycle continue, and since there are no diplomats in the insect world, we're going to have to be fast and brutal in ending their threat. I could use your help, though. Are you with me? And what's your name? All warriors who share a battlefield are no longer strangers."
*
Lynette listens. She stares at the man beside her, only glancing off whe hearing the rustling in weeds, watching the writhing of worms set ablaze. She nods, and nods again, her eyes finding his features once more. The girl's jaw tightens, and it's apparent behind those thinning lips that she's gritting her teeth. She was terrified.
"L-Lynette." She answers, finally, and gives a nod of her head. Droplets of rain roll off her curls as they sway and bounce with the easy motion. "Mmhmm. M'wit y'." She decides, her hands flexing pensively. "W-what'd y'wan' me t'do?"
*
"Pleased to meet you, Lynette," the man in the silver and emerald suit, or armor, it's difficult to tell, answers. Despite the drizzled gloom, despite the horror show spread ot before them, he actually manages to sound pleased. This is obviously not his first action, nor his first battlefield. But it's obvious as well that he can tell it's likely Lynette's. "I'm going to start here, and lay down more fire to kill these larva. Then I'm going to go downstairs and pay Mother a visit. If any more of these zombies try to come topside, I need you to bind them up like you did the first ones, so they can't hurt anyone. And if I'm not back with you in five minutes, run. Run and get help, as fast as you can. If it's the police, you might tell them most of the giant insects we've seen so far are bullet-proof." Mar-Vell pauses, gives her shoulder a gentle and encouraging clasp. "They run those big insecticide sprayers in the summer here. Getting a fleet of those might be an option, if it comes to that. Do you have my back?"
*
The girl continues to nod, her eyes set on his covered face. The more he speaks, the more she nods, causing a secondary rain to fleck from her soaking kinks. "Y'yeah. I gotcha." Looking sidelong to her shoulder, she returns her dark eyes to his face and then works them around the grounds. "Y'don' have t'go alone. I-I c'n come wit y'?" She offers at least, even as her hands rest to either side of herself in tightly formed fists. She's shaking like a leaf by now, and it's hard to tell if it's all just nerves, the cold, or a mixture of both. "Ok. Ok. Keep'm away fr'm de people, n' call de cops. M'countin'. Hurry n'be careful, non?"
*
Captain Marvel considers the girl's offer to accompany him into the tomb-like confines beneath the cemetery. And it brings a smile to his lips as he shares, "Anyone ever tell you how brave you are, Lynette? I appreciate the offer, but for now, keeping them confined is more important. I'll be right back." Moving in high gear, with reflexes seemingly more than human, Mar-Vell lays down a wave of heat that wilts the oversized larva to scorched earth and ash as he strides past them. He briefly peers down the stairwell, hops over one of the charred piles of remains caught in the entryway, and descends. Inhuman cries issue forth, and several small impacts can be felt topside. Then, all is silent.
The quiet stretches like a twilight shadow over the graveyard, with no zombies escaping and the only sounds distant traffic and the sizzling of the larva. Then it's shattered as the entryway smashes apart, the giant carrion fly propelling Captain Marvel ahead of itself as it takes wing, the man held between it's forlegs. The fly carries him into the air where his belt jets activate and drive both of them back down, hitting the ground hard in the graveyard. The two wrestle for control, the insect over him and trying to hold him in place while he twists in its grasp. The creature shoots a thin stream of saliva at Mar-Vell's head, and he manages to turn aside just enough that it coats a smoothed gray headstone instead. The marker sizzles beneath the mucus, then crumbles apart.
*
The compliment is not missed on the youth. Her eyes glimmer behind the slight sheen of some type of liquid that gathers there. Then, she smiles to him. Without a word, she watches the man move away from her, and settles into that well of silence that builds around the space. For now, it's normal. Where the grubs lay dead, there's a hiss now and then from rain landing on cinders, but the droning of human activity and commotion a block away from her allows her mind to settle.
Without warning, the peace is shattered by the sudden reappearance of the massive insect, and its sky high battle with the man in his super suit. Her jaw drops, and after noticing the pair coming in for a crash landing, she's quick to move out of the way and duck behind some of the larger, more expensive, markers. "T'ink, Lynnie…t'ink!" She urges herself, hiding once more after the acidic spit lands close by and bubbles away.
Reaching her hand into her back pocket, she fumbles for a moment, only to retrieve a knife. With a flick of her wrist, the blade is exposed, and held securely in her trembling grip. Then, she sees it. There, on the ground, is the remains of one of the creature's children. Leeking goop and fluids, the girl sprints in its direction, and brushes her finger tips within its left over mess. The shift returns in her eyes as she focuses on the battle still playing out before her. A second later, she turns the blade in on herself and gives one arm a deep slash across her wrist, then another across her elbow, and shoulder. Her clothing rips under the pressure of the knife, and her skin parts. Yet, no blood beads or collects, more rolls or stains the torn fabric. Instead, the joints of the insect start to pop and crunch, seperating in deep gashes that mimic those the girl created on herself.
*
It's difficult in the heat of the struggle to determine who is more surprised when the front, pinning foreleg of the fly suddenly bends under its weight, then breaks. Certainly, the giant insect didn't see that coming, and it struggles to maintain balance on its remaining legs. Mar-Vell didn't expect it, either, but counters with a smashing punch to the thing's head as it sags toward him. The fly flattens further, its protective exoskelton cracking at another joint, and at the pinion point of one wing…a wing that stops beating the air trying to achieve lift and hangs uselessly at its side.
The insect behemoth tries to center Captain Marvel beneath it and applies its weight, driving him into the ground and preparing another acidic spittle stream. It tilts its head back slightly to deploy, and that's when the Kree warrior brings up his unibeam wrist blaster and fires. A round globule of energy emerges and disappears into the thing's mouth, causing the fly to scramble back, choked on salive and obstruction. Captain Marvel rolls away and carries himself onward far enough to tackle Lynette to the ground with a low hit.
The giant insect makes a hurking, gagging noise, and then the scarlet lamplight behind the giant amber eyes increases in candlepower, the seams of its thorax brighten. The thing shudders as the delayed-detonation energy sphere lodged in its throat explodes. Bits of the fly's head and upper body come apart and fly like shrapnel over the boneyard. The rest of the mutated creature shudders, then topples over.
"This isn't the way I imagined coming back," Captain Marvel groans quietly. "Sorry to take you down like that, Lynette, but-" The uniformed man stops, seeing the rent fabric of the girl's clothes, but not yet taking note of the knife. "Hala! You're injured!"
*
Lynette gasps at the sudden force of her body going down for cover from the pending explosion. She's quick to hold the knife out of the way, so not to stab herself, or the Captain, carelessly. Her fingers reach out, pressing its lock in and allowing it to fold away, and slip back into her pocket. Once all is said and done, her eyes return to that normal state of obsidian, and she peeks out from around the man's arms and torso, watching the smoldering corpse of the insect just twitch in place. "S'ok. M'fine, really." She explains softly, though her expression looks as if she were drained, tired; spent.
The gaps of flesh fold back together, fusing as one as if they had never been damaged. Her blinking becomes heavier, though, and she gives a large mouthed yawn against the back of her hand. "Sorry…'cuse me. Y'doin' ok?" She then questions, frowning gently and looking the man over. "It didn' hurt y', did it?" A pause, "S'it ova? Did y'kill'm all?"
*
Seeing the wounds on the girl slowly close gives the Kree warrior pause, but it's certain that she's not in pain or danger from her injuries. The placement, he notes, are similar to the tears in the fly. Telekinesis that works two ways? Some sort of bio-directive assault? He's not certain of the 'how', only that the girl's help likely saved him from an acid bath his suit may or may not have been strong enough to repel. "I'm still in one piece. Thanks to you," he answers, sitting up and taking a moment to survey the battlefield.
"It was some kind of temporary morgue down there, with cadavers laid out and undergoing fertilization. I destroyed the nest, and that's when the Mother became irksome." Mar-Vell smiles down at the suddenly drained and tired girl, adding, "Eggs gone. Larva gone. Adult gone. I think we won."
As if celebrating by washing the soil clean, the clouds that have been gathering heavier over the region choose now to open up, the sprinkles of before becoming a steady, soaking shower. In the distance, sirens approach and silhouettes of the curious begin to appear out by the street, framed in the oncoming headlights of emergency vehicles. "How about you? You seem ready for a nap," Captain Marvel comments. He gestures to the soon-to-be torrent of attention headed their way. "Do you want to stay and answer questions, or can I fly you out of here to somewhere less damp? It's the least I can do."
*
"Questions? I don' even know where t'begin wit dat." She answers the man, her hand moving to her 'wounded' arm, and giving it a soft rub and massage as if trying to ease some pain away. "Oh, y'don' gotta do dat. I was jus' walkin' n'tryin' t'find a cab." The girl explains, her face one of not wishing to cause the man any troubles. "Y'don' gotta t'ank me, neither. Told y' I gotcha. Meant it. Y'did good, helpin' all dese people. T'anks."
Her brows furrow for a moment, sloping briefly before she moves to stand. Her lithe form gives a wobble at first, before reaching out and gripping Mar-Vell's arm for stability. "What's y'name, by de way?" A glance back toward the gathering crowd, her nerves seem to catch up with herself, and she shuffles away from their sight and toward another cross section of alley.
*
Mar-Vell follows Lynette, helping to steady her as she regians her balance and remaining until she's moving well enough on her own. His arm is on loan to her, for as long as she needs it. "Captain Marvel," he answers her inquiry as they skirt away from the nearing onlookers and toward the alleyways. As they pass a newspaper vending machine, he aims his unibeam at it and the device makes a quiet popping sound. The machine cover pops up, and Mar-Vell takes out a thick evening edition of the Bugle to tent over the girl's head and give her some protection from the shower. "I know, it's pretty corny," he chuckles. Actually, it's a Terranization of his real name, but he's overhead enough of the college students making light of it to know in Earth terms, it -is- corny. "But I got stuck with it early on, so I just go with it."
Once they are well within the shadowy confines of the alleyway, he says more quietly, "Don't suppose you want to tell me just how you did all those things back there? I mean, you were amazing. You could be in costume and mask, if you wanted, with abilities like that."
*
"Cap'tin Marvel. S'nice name. Ain't corny, jus' basic. Basic ain't bad. S'honest." She replies without missing a beat. She watches that thing on his wrist go to work again, her eyes now fixated on the object, even as written text rests above her flooftastic head. Chuckling, she glances up at the print hovering over her head, just giving it a quick browse before they stop completely. "How what? Dat back dere?" She mimics, making sure she heard him correctly.
"I don' know. Jus'…do it. M'tryin' t'figure all dat out right now." Then, she scoffs. "Oh nooo…non. Dat ain't f'me. I don' like drawin' 'ttention t'm'self. M'like a glass canon I t'ink. Least right now, 'nyway. I punch, but I punch m'self jus' as hard." She still rubs at the offending arm, as her earlier fatigue is here to stay, it seems. "What 'bout you? Dat t'ing y'got dere?" She motions to his weapon before giving a low whistle. "S'fancy stuff. Powerful, too."
*
Lynette's winces cause Mar-Vell to look over her again, to make certain the areas of the cuts haven't re-opened. Apparently, he decides, its an after-effect of her power use. Damage broadcast to someone else, but applied to the metahuman and with lingering, lesser effects. He's seen worlds with sentient trees that speak in single, ever-repeated sentences, he's watched Skrulls warp their physical forms into a variety of shapes and sizes, and he's seen beings who ride solar winds without need for starship. But he's never seen anyone with a power like Lynette's. Her answer about being a 'superhero' also resonates with him. In other cultures, too often powers naturally lead to inflicting them on the unpowered. Only here, on Earth, has he seen so many turn their abilities to use for the benefit of others. Or used quietly so as not to draw attention to the meta. So alien, but so refreshing.
"I like that," he admits. "Talented and kind, but you're also very humble, Lynette. That's a whole other kind of strength." He pauses as the girl indicates his unibeam blaster, considers it for a moment, then holds it up for her to see more easily. "This is a device I've worked on a bit. Modified, streamlined. Mostly, my abilities come from tech. Like Iron Man." He clicks open the unibeam projector and shows the series of small lenses held in its confines. "How I arrange them determines what kind of effect it creates. It can be electric, stun blasts, delayed detonation energy spheres, blaster bolts. Or it can put things back together, like a re-assembly ray. But it's just a device. What you have seems natural, and it's amazing."
*
"Ah, com'on now. Don' gotta butter me up like dat. I was jus'…doin' what I t'ink is de right t'ing t'do." She pauses then and smirks, "Scared de hell outta me." Keeping up the paper umbrella on her own now, she studies the object that is on display. Glancing over its networks, the lenses, and so forth, she eyes up and into the man's face as he speaks, and one would if they were trying to make eye contact during a conversation. "Don' t'ink 'bout it like dat. Y'brain's y'power, so dat's natural, too." She smiles warmly, pressing off the wall and giving the alley's openings a look, and watch, for a few moments. "Should be settlin' down soon. Maybe y'should talk wit dem? Let'm know what happened n'dat dey safe? Y'look more de part, afta all." The girl winks, urging the man in green to go play hero for the papers, too.
"Don' worry 'bout me, ok, Cap'tin? I be alright. S'normal. M'use to it."
*
"Alright, no more buttering," Captain Marvel chuckles. He is getting better at the native language nuances. Once and not long ago, he'd have been wondering how polyunsaturated fats entered the conversation at all. "I could tell you were scared, Lynette. But you held your ground. That's bravery," he shares, and with the tone of a person who knows. "I owe you one. If I can ever be of help, talk with Dr. Walt Lawson at Columbia U. He's an egghead that works in the Goodard Space Studies division. A bit reclusive, but he's helped me on rocketry, like my belt, and he knows how to get in touch with me."
Belatedly, Mar-Vell presses the belt button that raises the system seal on his helmet, looking back toward he bubblegum lights of the gathered police cars and the graveyard now buzzing with activity. "Yeah, I'll give them enough information to file their reports," he answers, though he doesn't seem keen on the duty. "How much can I praise civilians who helped out? Or do you prefer to be anonymous?" A heartbeat later he adds, "And I will see that the remains of those poor people are handled correctly. They will be put to a final rest. It's only right."
*
"Doc. Lawson. Got it. M'sure I'll go 'round n'say 'hi' at some point." She promises. Her eyes give another long, and lazy, blink. "Tell'em whateva y'like, darlin'. S'your story s'much as mine." Then, she nods, "Good. Dat's de most 'mport'nt part. Y'take care a dem people." She confirms before turning to part from the man in green and white. "Be safe out dere, Cap. Imma…Imma head home n'rest I t'ink."
*
"Fair enough," Mar-Vell nods. "Take care, Lynette. It was an honor to fight by your side."
With that, Captain Marvel gives a final wave, then win belt rockets emerge from depressions in his emerald belt as he steps out of the alley, and he does a brief burn to arc him back into the graveyard. His voice carries as he's pelted with questions from authorities and the press. "What happened here? Zombies. Zombies and more of those giant insects we've been plagued with. And tonight, people took a stand against metahumans who would put their powers to such nefarious purpose; here's what happened."
*