|
  |
It's about four in the afternoon. A little late in the day for the beach crowd who are in the process of packing up for the day and going home before dinner. This was intentional on Noh-Varr's part as he was warned about how crowded it can get and he didn't feel like dealing with a horde of humans. He's wearing a pair of shorts with his shirt tucked into the waist of them as he walks next to Pete along the boardwalk. "This is really good." he says of the Nathan's frank with sauerkraut, relish and mustard. "And it doesn't have any dog meat in it. The seller assured me of that. Why do they call it that then?"
For his part, Peter is dressed in a patterned deep red and offwhite shirt that is fitted, with only the middle two buttons done together, which shows off just a little, but only a little. He does it somewhat unconsciously. That and a pair of brown slacks. He has a chili cheese dog, shaking his head in amusement, "You know, as far as I'm aware, no one is actually really sure of the etymology of the term. It _might_ have to do with the shape of the sausage and weinerdogs, which are these long thin dogs… but that's just a guess on my part."
Noh-Varr extends an arm so he can look at the shape of the hot dog then shrugs and takes another bite. "Your language is very strange and illogical." he points out. Like this is news even to Americans. "Other languages on your planet are much more ordered and consistent. I'm glad you decided to come, by the way."
"English incorporates a lot of words from other languages, while others try to be more… pure. France even has an organization that enforces the fact that the language isn't allowed to change. Germany just smushes words together to make new ones." Peter chuckles and shrugs a little, taking a bite of his hot dog again, "English, though, evolves, adapts, outright steals and abuses words from other sources to make sense." He flashes Noh-Varr a quick smile, "I'll never turn down Nathan's."
"I'll remember that since it sounds like you'd be willing to turn down me." Noh-Varr returns, giving a grin of his own. "Nathan's is the perfect lure. I should study your history in more detail. I've only skimmed it to see how and when it diverged from the Earth in the reality I spent some time in. I couldn't find it though."
"I just don't know what to think about you." Peter admits with a helpless shrug and an innocent smile, "I'd offer to help but history isn't exactly my field. I mean, I know all the basics— I took all the AP History classes,… but to me this is just the world as it always has been and the only way it can be."
"Only the best, of course." Noh-Varr answers. "Think only the best and you'll be right." His free hand makes a dismissive gesture. "It doesn't matter. It was a matter of curiosity only. It means nothing, not even if and when I build a new ship and install the Kirby Engines."
Peter winces a moment, even as he finishes his hot dog and uses the napkin he had in his pocket to wipe, then toss it into a garbage can nearby, "See, like that." He can't help but laugh softly, "I don't think you have an ounce of humility in you. There's this superiority complex, and while you may very well be superior to most people, rubbing it in peoples faces isn't really very *nice*. I get you're brilliant and good looking, you and I both know it, so why do you keep telling me?" He shakes his head, "I don't know what to think about that."
"You left out strong and durable." Noh-Varr points out. "But I am rubbing nothing nothing into any body part. I merely speak the truth. It is how I was designed so any credit goes to my parents. Now what I do with it, that is to my credit as it is to yours. So you find me good looking. Good. I think you are too. Though you should remove your shirt. It is the beach and acceptable here in public."
Peter looks a little pained, "And the point is completely missed." He sighs softly, "'Rubbing it in peoples faces' is an expression… you know, nevermind. Look." He shakes his head slowly, "It doesn't matter if its true or not, you don't need to tell me over and over again, or tell anyone. If its true they'll find out. It comes off as being conceited which is off putting. No one likes someone who brags all the time. There's confidence and awareness of one's own worth, and that's good. Then there's cocky, and that's bad."
Noh-Varr considers what Peter said as he finishes his hot dog and throws the napkin into the trash can. "All right. I'll remember what you've said. But you have not taken off your shirt and you look very good without it." As if to reinforce his point, he gives Peter a quick look and grin. "So you are not a mutant, yes?"
Peter looks relieved, until the shirt comment, and he sighs. Instead of taking off his shirt, he unbuttons the last two buttons, "I don't walk around without a shirt. If I go _swimming_ I'll take it off, but its not quite warm enough to want to go swimming in the Atlantic." He laughs and shakes his head, "But no, I'm not a mutant. There was this science experiment, they were irradiating these spiders, and one bit me. Through some freak science weirdness I kind of became a spider-human hybrid. Or something like that. Spiders are little and all that, but they can carry over 170 times their weight. My strength is … bigger then that proportionally, so I guess its a the whole is more then the sum of its parts, thing?"
"You should. You look very good without it on." Noh-Varr points out. "Those baggy shorts you wear underneath your pants aren't very flattering though." It's said idly as he thinks about being bit by a spider. "So it was an accident?" It's not really a question. "The odds of it turning out as successful as it has are astronomical. It's possible there's something in your DNA that made it possible."
There's a flush on Peter's face; he's not used to receiving compliments at all. "They're my underwear! They're not supposed to be flattering because no one's supposed to see me in them!" Peter laughs a bit nervously, "An accident." he agrees with a nod, "Though if I was given the choice? I'd take it. Before I was just a nerdy kid, I mean, sure, I've always been good at school." He's a genius with an IQ off the charts but he can't bring himself to describe it as more then 'good at school'. "I wouldn't know. Our current understanding of DNA is pretty limited, though that's an interest of mine. But even if there was something in me… the odds of the altered spider biting _me_ and not anyone else, and I just happen to have weird DNA? That seems unlikely too."
"Not necessarily just you. The Celestials experimented on a portion of your species. While it was eventually activated and led to mutation, it's possible it's still latent in others of you and able to manifest in other ways." Noh-Varr speculates. "Who knows what exactly they did. But it's possible that if it had bit someone else, it would have affected them as well."
"The … Celestials? Angels?" Peter asks in confusion, his brow furrowed before he shrugs, "Anyways, I don't know why or how not really, but it doesn't matter. Now I can save people, I can be the guy that inspires a nerdy kid like I was inspired by heros before me. I can be part of something bigger then myself, more important, who is responsible for the world, like the Avengers."
"No, immortal cosmic beings created by the First Firmament." Noh-Varr answers and glances over at Peter. "Responsible for the world." he repeats. "Yes, someone once convinced me to defend this planet. Granted, it was a different Earth but it could be argued that it doesn't really matter."
Peter blinks a few moments, "Immortal cosmic beings came to earth and…messed with us? You think that is why my body reacted to the spider bite?" That just blows his mind. "Uhh, that's super unethical." he adds after a moment, "I mean like gigantically unethical. Though it might explain why you look just like us— that is so astronomically unlikely that there's almost no words for it."
"I don't know if that's why you reacted that way." Noh-Varr clarifies. "I do know it's why your species has so many mutants. Whether the genes can express in other ways is beyond my knowledge." Unethical? He shrugs. "It could be argued that without them, there would be no life at all. Or no life capable of evolving. They're the very first sentient creatures so it's impossible to speculate what might be without their interference."
"It could be argued, if you're willing to argue pure speculation." Peter shakes his head slowly, wrinkling his nose, but then he shrugs, "There's no way to know either way. I can still disapprove of the ethics of it. That's some crazy hubris there. The responsibility someone should have is directly proportional to their power, if they're responsible for the emergence of mutants, what about those who die before they're capable of controlling their powers? Or who kill other people on accident when their powers first emerge? That's on them, then. They did it on purpose is what you're saying."
"On purpose?" Noh-Varr shrugs again. "Who knows what they intended. It was a million years ago. All I know is that they made changes to your species and then left. They've done that all across the universe, in every reality that I know of. Fortunately, they might be immortal and extremely powerful but they can be killed."
Peter chuckles softly, shaking his head, "There's no way someone modifies the DNA of a species and have that end up with something as unlikely as the ability to control fire with your mind showing up, if it wasn't on purpose." He halts in his tracks, turning to stare at Noh-Varr, "Why are you talkin gabout *killing* them?" He sounds aghast.
"Do you think immortal, near omnipotent cosmic beings will just go away if you ask them nicely?" Noh-Varr asks, turning to look at Peter. "Don't think they're benevolent. They look on other races much the same way you look on ants. There's also a second faction of them who are outright hostile called the Astro-Gods. My ship was lured to another reality by three of them. We managed to kill them but got thrown way off course."
"Why in the world would you think I thought they were benevolent? Have you been listening to anything I've said at all?" Peter sounds genuinely puzzled, shaking his head again. "Your analogy doesn't make sense. We don't go around making a point of modifying every ant hill we come across."
"You regard them as inferior, a nuisance, to be stepped on if need be." Noh-Varr clarifies. "That is how the Celestials regard others which is why they feel free to experiment on other races whenever they wish. Your primitive ancestors were no more than lab animals to them. And if you get in their way, they have the power to destroy you."
"Yet you managed to kill three of them?" Peter squints a moment at Noh-Varr, then turns to continue the walking. "Three immortal nigh omnipotent cosmic beings. How many ships like yours managed such a feat?"
"It's the first that I know of." Noh-Varr answers. "We were good. Very good. And lucky." he admits. "And they undoubtedly underestimated us. You think /I/ have a superiority complex." he jokes, giving Peter a grin. "Anyway, with any luck, you'll never encounter one. With any luck, neither will I again."
"Well they don't appear to have been in a rush to come back; then again whatever they did— if they really did anything at all— appears to be coming to fruition _now_, unless this is only the very beginning of the mutant evolution, and its going to get… bigger." Peter muses, thoughtful, "If I was performing an experiment, I'd make a point to be there to observe the results when its…done."
"Maybe they have been. Who knows." Noh-Varr says. "Or maybe they have some kind of monitor set up to transmit information. I don't think anyone really knows much about them. Enough about them. What do two guys do around here?"
"It's the beach. Closer to the summer, you go swimming in the ocean. Its not quite warm enough now, so… There's arcades to play games in, restaurants to eat at. There's things to buy…" Peter laughs and gestures around, "Look around, you do… whatever you want, basically."
"Then lets play games, eat, and buy stuff." Noh-Varr suggests. "Not necessarily in that order. What do you want to do? I don't know what the games are, I can always eat, and I barely own anything on this planet so I'm sure there's going to be stuff I can buy. I can use more clothes and you can tell me what I look good in. And… other things."
There's a thoughtful expression that touches Peter's face, "Games are hard for us, since our reflexes and strength… so… we can try table hockey, though you have to be very careful to not break it." Peter winces slightly, "Not breaking things was a serious challenge at first. Then food, I suppose."
"I was born strong so I'm used to it." Noh-Varr assures Peter. "Though I'm told I broke a lot of things till they could teach me to be careful." He pauses to think a moment then says "I know what hockey is but I don't know how you'd play it on a table."
"My body changed while I slept, not immediately after the bite, so I woke up… and almost broke my *house*." He sounds rueful. Peter leads the way in, goes and gets some nickles for a dollar from the front of the arcade, then heads over to a table hockey game. He nods to it, "You stand on that side, I stand on this." He shows pulling out a bar and moving the little people figures, then spins it, "And that's a kick. Once I put a nickle in, it'll release a ball, and we keep score. You want to get the ball in that goal, and I want to get it in that other one."
"If this is what it changed to, you must have been very happy." Noh-Varr says, giving an appreciative glance to what's visible between the two sides of the shirt. Once they get inside, the little figures get a dubious look and he fiddles with the knobs till he nods. "Okay, I understand."
Peter flushes slightly, "I admit having permanent abs I didn't have to work for was a bonus I wouldn't turn down." But these compliments clearly embarass him. He puts the nickle in, and a ball comes out— and he's off, grabbing and pulling and spinning to send it flying towards Noh's goal. Of course, given Noh's own reflexes and the fact that the Spidey-Sense doesn't apply to games? This might be a long game.
Noh-Varr gets the ball blocked but misjudged the spin of the wooden person so he has to wait till it rolls in range again before he sends it back to the other end of the table. "The bar sticks a little." he notes. "You should make sure to maintain them though. You're welcome to join me in working out. The training area of my ship can provide anything we want."
"I don't _need_ to maintain them." Peter explains, quickly spinning the right guy and sending the ball back— as he's played this before he doesn't make any mistakes initially. "I eat whatever and don't exercise— besides what my night job entails— and they're just… there. Its part of the change. My body just… maintains itself." He flashes a grin, "Which is good because I don't _like_ exercise."
"I do. Which is why I do it. Though I'm not obsessive about it. Mostly, I enjoy it with someone. It's much more fun that way." Noh-Varr gets the timing right this time and the ball flies back. "Done properly, it's just part of training."
Peter looks skeptical, tilting his head, "For me 'training' is going out and… you know, doing stuff. Climbing walls, leaping, flipping, soaring through the air. Would your training area be any help with that sort of thing?"
"All of the above." Noh-Varr assures Peter. "Computer controlled solid light holograms. Able to produce interactive environments that duplicate anything you can think of including enemies ranging from beginner to 'Are you certain you want to turn off the safety interlocks? Extreme injury or death is possible.'." he intones. "It's not smart to turn those off, especially in space. You could blow a hole through several bulkheads and out into space."
Peter now looks thoughtful, even intrigued, "Okay, that sounds fun. I'll give it a try. Set up a scenario that is challenging for you and let's see what I can do with it. When you want to do it? I still think you should let me get an actual look at some tech itself, though."
"I'm selling some of it to the Future Foundation." Noh-Varr tells Peter. "Other advancements to Tony Stark. And some of it you just don't have the knowledge or technological base to make use of. If there's something specific you need though, let me know." As to when… "Saturday good for you?"
"Saturday works." Peter nods, "Meet at, well—" They make arrangements for where to meet, and then say their goodbyes and head off.