For better or worse, I do not own any Marvel franchise, nor any Star Wars characters imported in.
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Many thanks to my wonderful Betas, Bobbie23, VixenRose1996, and MasterQwertster, who write some pretty cool stories. Go read them!
The fantastic cover image is courtesy of rickyryan. Just perfect!
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Avengers: The (Alien) Sun's Going Down
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Chapter 7: Just a Simple Stroll
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Previously:
Stranded upon Sakaar, Bruce and Natasha struggle to return home. Having taken Scrapper 142 prisoner, they meet and ally themselves with Lyja Talosdaughter the Skrull, Elloe Kaifi, and No-Name of the Brood. The plan they come up with is to meet up with a respected if senile scientist within the slums, hoping he has some information about the wormholes to help them get back to Earth.
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Sakaar
"Bruce!"
His name snapped him awake, instantly registering his sweaty skin and rapid heartbeats.
Fortunately, Bruce could tell he was still safely in control of the driver's seat. Natasha's concerned face illuminated by Tony's special light.
Softly she asked, "Nightmare?"
"Yeah," he grunted, as it all came back to him. Only to realize he was being too obvious in not looking at her. So with a sigh, he elaborated, "It was about me running away, and then looking up to see Sokovia coming down on all our heads. Because you didn't push me."
"Ah," she said neutrally.
"Yeah," he repeated with mixed emotions. Taking a moment to assess himself, he stood up and started to stretch out any kinks. "You get some rest, I'll keep watch."
Natasha gave him a slight glower at that, only to grudgingly acknowledge both how she needed rest as well, and that he certainly was not going to get any more. They had a lot to take care of in the morning. Whenever 'morning' was for this planet.
"I'll wake up in two hours," she said, trusting in her internal clock, "and then you get some more."
"Four."
"Two," she repeated in a firmer tone before visibly changing her mind. "Three," she compromised.
They had to learn how to do that after all.
"Alright."
-(Alien) Sun-
Six hours later, Elloe loudly made her way over to their room, startling Bruce awake, while Natasha merely looked up from her silent weapons' maintenance.
"Morning," the red-skinned alien said. "Grubs on, and best for you to go see Camper before the crowds really start."
"Easier to lose yourself in a crowd," pointed out Natasha. "Especially if you want to blend in."
"Yeah, yeah, but it also means security's out more too."
The spy acknowledged that point with a small nod, and Elloe turned around to lead them back down the dark, winding corridors of her home, guiding herself with her own lantern. They came back to the same room they had all talked together in last night, with a breakfast of more edible fungus laid out on a piece of cloth on the floor. A lamp of some kind had also been set up so everyone could see readily.
Scrapper 142 was eating fairly large portions of the food, which No-Name of the Brood and Elloe did not protest about as they ate their own shares. Lyja handed Natasha back the remote for the Obedience Disc in Scrapper's neck, and they joined the others in sitting on the floor. To keep things from getting awkward, Lyja started asking the two Avengers questions about Earth, ranging from baseball, to gender politics, which seemed to entertain the other aliens enough as well.
Bruce and Natasha answered without issue, although they did appreciate how Lyja seemed to be steering away from anything truly sensitive. They were also making their own, different observations about her.
The scientist was trying to figure out how their shapeshifting worked, and the innate requirements for such an ability to be possible. It would require rewriting several 'scientific truths,' and honestly the prospect of learning more left him giddy. He was also trying to figure out why a reptilian based alien had what appeared to be breasts.
The assassin took note of the easy grace and confidence to her movements as she walked about the room and sat down. Given that, despite being an Earth fangirl, and especially given how she apparently held people like Fury in awe, it was very likely Lyja was a trained and skilled fighter. Plus, she bet being a shapeshifter meant she could make herself stronger than a Human.
Black Widow was also doing her best to figure out how much of Lyja's curiosity and ignorance about Earth was genuine, or if she was faking it. After all, there was the lingering question of just how much of Natasha's memories she had scooped up, and also retained. Given the situation though, she would wait for the Skrull to drop her guard, while in the meantime figure out the best way to confront the issue without compromising the tenuous trust they had built up between them all.
"So how long is the walk to get to see this Camper?" asked Bruce. "Or is there some other way to get around."
"No, sorry, just our feet. We're lucky ,it's only about two or three hours away. Local hours," answered Lyja. "I'll take you guys with me, while No-Name and Elloe stay here." Which made sense, as the former would be killed on sight, and the latter was a fugitive. "We should leave Scrapper here too."
"You're not leaving me with a Brood!" snapped the prisoner, body tense.
"Nor are we parading a publicly known agent of the Grandmaster around in public," Natasha dispassionately informed her. "You'll stay here, and keep quiet. Or do you really think the Grandmaster is the type to forgive failure if you are seen strolling down the streets as our prisoner?"
Scrapper 142 glowered at the sheer lack of emotion in that threat, yet made no other response.
Carefully, Natasha passed the remote for the Obedience Disk to Elloe, who had the bulk of No-Name between her and the slaver.
"If you don't cause trouble, they won't cause you any either," Bruce said, putting as much reassurance as possible into his tone. It was also however a warning to the other two aliens not to abuse her.
Scrapper 142 grit her teeth and grabbed another handful of food to tear into.
Ignoring her, Natasha went about getting food and water to take with them. Within an hour they were ready to go, with Lyja having slowly shifted to a large, burly, grey, and decidedly male alien. "This should help keep people from bothering us," 'he' said in a gravelly voice, adjusting the raggedy blankets wrapped up as clothes.
"That really is amazing!" gushed Bruce.
"Thanks. We call it simming. Although I'm really just a novice compared to my dad."
"So everyone can doing this, simming? Huh. Do you have a way to make your clothes shift with you?"
Surprised, Lyja nodded. "What? Oh, yes, except mine was wrecked when I came here. How'd you know?"
"Experience shifting into my . . . alter-ego."
"Oh, of course," she nodded, eyes widening thoughtfully. "Hadn't really thought of that from the glimpses I got. Was mostly caught up on how well he can fight. At least we have him for back-up"
"I'd really rather not."
"With him, we could—"
"Get a lot of bystanders killed? Sure," he flatly cut her off.
"Uhm, uh . . ."
"Correct. So let's just hope for a nice, simple stroll to see the hopefully helpful scientists. Nice, and peaceful, right?"
Natasha's lips quirked. "When has that ever happened?"
"Not really, since I never—hardly ever, get what I want. Much. Maybe. 'Til lately."
She cut off any further fumbling with a quick peck on the cheek, a saucy wink, and a mysterious grin which left him wondering how long she had spent practicing it. "Right," he managed.
With an awkward cough, Lyja asked, "Do you two want some time alone?"
"No, we're good," Natasha answered for them both, hefting up a long piece of cloth. Deftly she wrapped it around her shoulders as a make-shift shawl which reached her waist and concealed her myriad of weapons. This consisted of two laser rifles that Bruce had declared to be in the best condition, two machine pistols with a total of seventy-two bullets, six taser discs, one grenade, one last brick of C4-Ultra, two flashbangs, a garrote, eight knives, three long needles in her pant-legs, and of course her batons.
"Alright, let's see about finding our way off this literal dump of a planet."
-(Alien) Sun-
To the Earthling's surprise, Lyja led them back up to the upper levels of Sakaar, so they were walking under the rising sun while skyscrapers towered over them.
"Trust me," she softly explained. "The Undercity is great for hiding, but not for travelling. It's a maze, and there's always somebody looking to ambush and kill you for whatever reason. Mostly desperation though. Where we're staying is better than most, but that's mostly because no one wants to draw No-Name's attention."
Thus, once more they found themselves walking under the sun past buildings made out of various pieces of sturdier junk. The various bazars were already opening as customers trickled in, with all manner of aliens going about their business.
"Don't stare too much!" hissed Lyja at a gawking Bruce. "It makes it too obvious you're a newbie! Act casual!"
Snapping out of it, he immediately relaxed his body, kept his eyes seemingly looking down and not at others, burying his emotions so they would not stand out. Just as he had done countless other times over the years when blending in while on the run. Natasha had seen him do it so many times by now, she barely registered it aside from an automatic assessment of how successful he was.
Instead, she was more interested in assessing their guide. If Lyja had been Human, she would assume she was either a phenomenal actor (entirely possible, if not likely, for a natural shapeshifter), or someone who had received training to some degree, yet remained pretty inexperienced at this. For instance, how she had failed to reprimand Bruce in a subtler fashion.
Well, regardless, they had to work with her. She would keep observing, while keeping her suspicions to herself. Who knows, maybe they would make some friends out of this.
Hmm, and getting a shapeshifter to replace me for the Avengers, might make it easier for me to retire with a clear conscience.
"It's amazing how so many races and cultures can live together," whispered Bruce.
"It is pretty neat," Lyja admitted in that gravelly voice, keeping it low. "Most of the time it's pretty nice with everyone, and they throw the wildest parties here. Except, well—"
"Except all that wild passion makes you nervous," finished Natasha. "And the parties are centered on the Contest of Champions, where they relish in their bloodlust as people fight to the death?"
There was a significant pause before Lyja regained control of her voice. "Did she tell you that, or did you really figure it out all out by yourself?"
Choosing her words carefully, Natasha answered, "Humanity is divided up into a lot of different political states, and more subcultures after that as well. Working for Fury, I travelled to many of them, particularly ones with violent, unstable governments, and had to be able to get a good understanding on each culture in a short period of time. In those places, the kind of lives people suffer, leaves them angry and hungry for violence, even if they don't even recognize what is happening. To give these emotions a target, usually leaders tend to blame it on outsiders, the vulnerable, or any other handy scapegoats. However, the odd gladiator match to help slake it comes up now and then. Even on the street level with animal fights. Seems to work for the Grandmaster, and he's even found a pragmatic way to deal with newcomers who could be trouble. While those who aren't swept in by all of it, are either filled with fear after being ripped from their homes and trying to hold onto some sort of safety, any safety, or grow up with it."
It took Lyja a few long seconds to process the clipped, professional assessment. "'Pragmatic,'" she finally managed to uncomfortably quote.
"Yes."
". . . It's mandatory to go to the games, and if you don't look like you're cheering, like you're having fun, well . . ."
"You get singled out, and that never ends well," said Bruce, nonjudgmentally. "And sometimes you get swept up in the crowd mentality. At least you're alive though. Do those people who don't cheer, the potential troublemakers, get put into the ring next?"
"Sometimes. There's always a need for slaves though, and those Obedience Disks are really good at getting results."
"How many people are slaves here?" asked Bruce, trying to keep any concern from his expression.
"A lot. No telling how many though."
"Hmm," Natasha hummed. "How many of the security forces are slaves do you think? I mean, the ones who prove their loyalty are probably rewarded with freedom and put in important places, yet what about the rank and file patrolling the streets? Being put under a few who are free to help make sure they do their job until they're being good thugs all on their own. Special privileges and the feeling of superiority over others to help sway them." Slave soldiers had been historically pretty successful at times on Earth after all.
"I—oh!" Lyja was silent for a while again as she thought about that. "I don't . . . know. It might explain a few things though."
Bruce and Natasha each risked another glance at the people around them, and while they might be reading too much into non-Humans, this time when they looked at the crowds with more context, they were pretty sure of what they saw. The tense, nervous movements, and the hollowed-out eyes and faces they had seen too many times in the past.
"Everyone here's afraid," concluded Bruce. Maybe highly advanced and subtle forms of mass brainwashing were not necessary here after all. Just relying upon the good old, traditional methods.
"Enjoy the Contest, or you might find yourself dying in it," said Natasha, eyes carefully assessing the mood.
"Yeah," sighed Lyja. "Some nights, I just can't understand why they don't all just do something. There's more of us than them. And other nights . . . I can't help but be afraid of my own thoughts. Thinking it's better to just keep my head down, forget about home and my family, and try and stay alive to enjoy whatever I can here. Including seeing people killing people, and enjoying the rush. It's messed up. So messed up. Tell me that Earth's not like this. Please?"
"Not where we live," promised Bruce. "The parts that are, we're working to make better. Or at least, the other Avengers are." He did not mention how yes, there were an unfortunate number of places where it was indeed true, with people trying to distract themselves from the reality of their lives by any means necessary.
She made a strange humming noise so unlike anything else the Humans had heard before, which they took as acceptance. With that, they continued in silence.
-(Alien) Sun-
Of course, life could not be simple and easy.
Honestly, Bruce and Natasha spent their lives waiting for the other shoe to drop, and preparing themselves for it.
"Nwaaah!"
"No! Please!"
They turned the corner at those cries before Lyja could pull them back, and saw some of the soldiers in their fancy bright armour, beating two figures on the ground with the butts of their strange spear-like weapons, while another pair were struggling against the grips of their captors.
"What, why're they doing that?" gasped Bruce.
"Probably didn't like their attitude, and showed defiance when the soldiers leaned on them," grimaced Lyja. "Or not enough subservience. Don't worry though, they won't hurt them much. They're going to be enslaved of course, but they'll live. There's nothing we can do—"
Whatever else she said was reflexively absorbed by Natasha's mind for later analysis, yet here and now her attention was all on the scene before her.
Despite a lifetime of self-control, Natasha could not help the grimace which flickered across her expression. Obviously she had seen worse in her life, done worse, yet that was before New York. Before . . . new expectations. Unfortunately, Lyja was right, there was nothing they could do. Never mind the high chance of dying, this whole planet was such a powder-keg, throwing sparks on it was the worst thing she could do. Setting off all these people with their anger and fear would be a recipe for the kind of violent mob that could get her and Lyja killed as collateral and set off Hulk on a rampage. And that was before the Grandmaster retaliated. Or even just caused law enforcement to come after them.
She had far too much experience with those sorts of things. Including in the bad old days, intentionally setting off riots as part of throwing nations into chaos.
The smart thing was to just walk away, and hope those people would be alright in the end. They could not save everybody, especially not here and now on an alien world. They did not even know exactly what was going on. If they did anything to save one stranger, it would draw attention that could get the five of them, technically six with Scrapper, killed.
Walk away.
Walk away. Walk away!
That was what Natasha kept telling herself as she walked up even closer.
"Oh boy," Bruce muttered behind her, but did nothing to stop her. He could not sit back either.
One of the soldiers saw her, and raised up the tip of their spear, "Hal—!"
Twisting aside she threw one of her taser discs perfectly for the exposed throat.
With a scream he went down, and Black Widow was already raising her own laser rifle to fire.
Shoulders. Arms. Legs for those too shocked to be a threat. Nothing lethal. Not yet. Leaving aside the potential issues for Earth if she and Bruce left a massacre behind, she would prefer not to kill slave soldiers if possible.
Fortunately, they were no stronger than regular Humans so far, and ill-trained as she tripped them up, tossed them around, and threw one of her remaining flash-bangs at a clump of them. While their helmets shielded them from the glare, it was still enough of a distraction for a few more shots.
Who's next?
A quick 'experiment' proved her batons could shock them just as well as one of Ultron's drones as she smacked them around.
Meanwhile, Lyja was in the thick of the fray as well, lashing out with well-placed punches and kicks, and even hefting up and throwing some of them around. Definitely super-human strength there.
-(Alien) Sun-
Agh! What is with her!? Lyja mentally screeched, even as she clubbed down another guard with one of their spears. We're laying low!
She was a Skrull! Skrulls used infiltration and subterfuge to make a difference, not something like this!
Even if it was the sort of thing Carol would do. What her dad would do, despite the kind of man he thought of himself to be.
Honestly, from what she had gotten from Romanoff's mind, she bet she would get along very well with Minister Talos.
Not the point!
As cool as running around like a hero was, Lyja did not know what she was supposed to do! This was her first real fight!
Oh, sure, she had beaten up the odd mugger over the years here, yet that was nothing like this. At all. She needed to keep a low profile. They were challenging the Grandmaster. None of which was covered in the self-defense training her family had given her. Again, at all.
No. Stop. Breathe. Assess.
Quickly she looked around to figure out what was happening. Natasha seemed to be handling them okay, acting in total control of the fight. Even as she whirled about though, the anger in her expression was obvious as she lashed out with perfect calculation.
But what about her boyfriend? Was he going to go green? He thought that was a bad idea though. So where was he hiding?
A scuffle behind her made her whirl around, only to see the short man drop one of the soldiers to the ground.
"Don't stand still, keep moving," Banner warned her, his breathing as regular as normal. His eyes though, held the real story, smoldering with a rage which forced her to obey.
His every movement though was calm and methodical, perfectly reigning it all in.
Who are these people? she wondered with a greater trepidation. It was becoming increasingly clear why their team was named the 'Avengers.'
-(Alien) Sun-
[Flashback]
Avenger's Tower
When he arrived at the gym, Bruce found Romanoff doing stretches there.
He caught a flicker of what could be surprise from her. "Uhm, sorry for barging in," he managed. He glanced at his watch to be sure he had the right time, even though he already knew. Well, no matter, and Steve could go to another one. Except where was he? Tony had been going on and on about how punctual to a fault the super-soldier was, so why was he—oh. Ah. Oh dear.
While too little, too late, he wiped the dismay from his expression.
"Uhm, I thought it would be, uhm . . ."
"Let me guess," Romanoff crossly said. "Steve Rogers came to you saying you needed some remedial hand-to-hand combat training. So you can defend yourself more without relying on the Hulk."
"Uhm, maybe?" he stalled. His brain caught up then. "He came to you saying that someone needed that training, and let you think he was talking about someone else."
"Without actually saying so," she said with a slight scowl of irritation. "He's sneakier than I gave him credit for."
Neither of them wanted to do this. Except they were both aware how necessary it was that he had an option besides the Other Guy.
"Why not Tony or Steve?" he hazarded.
He really did not want to spend much time with someone he had nearly killed. Flashes of memories of her absolutely terrified face before he transformed and she had to run for her life. Not to mention the simple fact she was a spy. Supposedly the spy apparently, the absolute master of the art of manipulating people. He knew she had already gotten to Tony before.
So yes, he had been avoiding her since she moved in along with Steve. Given the ease at which he had been doing so, even within such a large Tower, he suspected it was mutual.
Cocking an unimpressed eyebrow, she coolly shot that down. "You and Stark'd just talk science shop. Besides, while he's surprisingly good, his style is built more around fighting alongside his gadgets and weapons. Something you aren't comfortable with."
Of course she would pick that up.
"Of course Stark'd just figure he's best for it since the Big Guy is friendly with him, if there were any accidents, he'd be safer. Only that very fact means you aren't willing to take the risk with him."
Also true.
"Maybe he'd be useful for sparring, and sparring against for practice, but not who you want to be teaching you. As for Steve," she settled into another stretch, "he can't teach you because he never really received any proper formal training. He fights like a master though, because of the Serum." She sat down on a bench, appearing utterly calm, while letting him figure the next bit out.
"He processes what's happening faster than anyone else, connects it to his eidetic memory, and then uses whatever technique he decides fits the situation," Bruce realized. Obviously he had studied up on the man —what biologist worth their salt had not?— yet he kept learning amazing new things about him. "Either coming up with it on the spot, or duplicating it. Not to mention he's just so much faster and stronger than anyone else."
"Almost anyone," she corrected. "Other than that, you've pretty much got it. Oh, sure, he uses techniques from American Boxing, Taekwondo, Karate, Krav Maga, Muay Thai, Judo, Jui-jutsu, Wing Chun, Aikido, and probably more as he picks them up. He's just that smart, and enough of a natural fighter to make do. Teaching others who don't have any of his advantages would be difficult and time consuming when he's already got a lot on his plate. Most of all, both he, Stark, and pretty much anyone else you could care to name are people who fight to go on the offensive. For you, it would be building on your Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu—" of course her and S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about that, "—with a focus on self-defense and making space to escape. That you only fight if there is no chance to get away."
Biting back a groan, Bruce tried to think of an alternative. Because not only was Romanoff apparently a contender for the most dangerous, non-enhanced Human alive at hand-to-hand combat, she would be familiar with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own training regimes for guidance.
His only solace here, was whatever he learnt would be useless to the Other Guy. It lacked the intelligence to use whatever he learnt.
Her flat tone also did not make her sound judgmental of him not wanting to get into any fights, regardless of his 'party trick.'
"Look," she sighed. "We both know why Steve put us together. He's seen we're uncomfortable being around each other, and we both know why, except he's a believer in teamwork. So he's throwing us together to make sure we can at least learn to be professional with each other now, so we can then do it in the field."
"So it's just you doing your job," he stated. Which yes, explained why she was willing to put up with him.
"Precisely," she said with a slight smile he did not believe for an instant. "Let's start with your stretches."
-(Alien) Sun-
Months later
"Not bad," Natasha grinned down at him.
"High praise," Bruce smiled back, taking the offered hand up from the mats.
Without another word he took up his preferred combat stance again, and waited for her to attack, aiming to hem him in with a taser prop. Last time she had gotten him with a series of surprise leg sweeps she had added in.
"No really," she assured him. "You can take pride in knowing your return to Western civilization and a laboratory has not made you regress back into being an Ivory Tower nerd.
"Thanks," he managed a little bashfully. "I had a good teacher."
"I had some fine clay to work with," she winked, before attacking.
Twenty seconds later he was back on the ground, but could take solace that Natasha's flirting had not distracted him. He suspected few men or women, regardless of their orientation, could make the same claim.
"Take five," she ordered, tossing him a water bottle he snagged mid-air.
"Appreciate it."
After he took a few gulps, he asked something which had been bugging him a little lately. "How'd you set it up so nobody interrupted our sessions? Not that I'm complaining. Makes it easier to concentrate. Just that everywhere else there's always somebody walking in at any time."
"Well," she smirked, "I may have given a few instructions to JARVIS, saying it was under Steve's authority for improving the team and keeping everybody alive. So as far as everybody else knows, this time is when the gym gets cleaned."
"You mean as far as Tony knows."
"Do you really want him to come in here when I'm teaching you how to restrain someone on the ground?"
Bruce chuckled before he moaned good-naturedly. "Oh man, the innuendos. He would go on and on about use being hot and sweaty and physical for weeks. All the while you'd be saying something to encourage him."
Her eyes twinkled. "And yet you keep coming back for more."
-(Alien) Sun-
Present
Sakaar
"Well," noted Natasha, not even short of breath. "That was a mess."
Soldiers littered the ground around them, only a few conscious, and regretting it as they twitched in pain. Meanwhile the civilians, including the ones they had just saved, had understandably fled.
"What were you thinking!?" demanded Lyja. It seemed like she was trying to hiss it, yet with that gravelly male voice she was using, it came out weird.
Instead of answering, Natasha said, "Can they track us?"
"Uh, what?"
"What will security do after this?" Natasha repeated emotionlessly.
Shaking herself a little, Lyja answer, "They have chemo-hormone tracking tech. For something like this, they'll hunt us down to throw us into the colosseum against either the champion, or someone else to make us suffer.
The spy looked at Bruce, who looked more impressed than was appropriate. "Think cybernetic dogs, except they'll be tracking us directly. Even changing clothes, or a shower wouldn't work to shake off our innate scent."
With a huff, she gave a sharp nod. "We'd better hurry then. Since Elloe escaped that, I'm guessing they stay out of the deeper slums still."
Lyja gave a choppy nod. "That's right, but—"
"Tell us on the run."
-(Alien) Sun-
Later
"Alright, easy now," cautioned Lyja.
This part of the Undercity was a surprisingly wide, open space, except for tall piles of trash more like pillars, even if they were not holding anything up.
"Because otherwise those come down on you as traps," gestured Natasha at the stacks.
"Yep," said Lyja, still in her fake form.
"Why so much space?" asked Bruce. "Or how?"
"It was like this before more levels were put on top, and never got filled in. Some of the nastier gangs claim it now and then. Recently Jarael cleared them out though after they caused her and Camper trouble, and they decided to move in after."
"And now it looks like more trouble has come. Leave."
At those words, the woman in question stepped into view, weapon raised and hostile.
Despite the old and stained clothes she wore, Bruce could not help comparing the woman to Natasha, with her obvious fierceness and strength, and stunning beauty.
Pale-white skin, long white hair, a muscular, lithe frame, and pointed ears. Thin, blue designs on her face and shoulder looked like tattoos.
Tony would feel obligated to call her a space elf princess. Yep, start calling her Arwen every chance he got. Not Galadriel though, who was more 'magic queen' than 'warrior princess.'
Her polearm was also interesting, with the staff being made of a dull-gold metal, while the 'tip' remained as round as the rest, yet glowed a bright blue. It closely reminded him of Natasha's own batons, and wagered it would shock someone just as well.
Natasha was more concerned though with the naked suspicion in those eyes. This person and her partner were their only lead to get safely home, and they would have to be careful not to provoke her in any way. Like before, given how they were also dealing with alien senses of unknown ability, she would have to be careful against any outright lies, or relying too much on her masks.
Lyja decided to take the lead, being the local expert. "Lady Jarael—"
"Words already out on you three," came the angry interruption. "Bounties posted, and people looking for you. We don't need anyone sniffing around even down here."
"You have a connection to the information systems above," Bruce realized, completely forgetting about the threat. "What—"
The scientist swallowed his words at the touch of Natasha's hand to his shoulder. "We wish to make a deal," she said. "We need information, and are willing to make a trade."
Except of course their main 'currency' was what they could either steal, or promising shelter on Earth. Or at least long enough for Fury to call this Carol lady.
The woman's scowl darkened, yet a new voice made her stop as another alien with white skin and white hair appeared. Doubtless Camper, a beard announced him as male, and his gait and wrinkles made it clear he was older than his companion. However . . .
"—reroute the voltage around the main bus . . . Dunno why they make me revolt the voltage . . . Down the revolt, they said . . ." he muttered distractedly. "Dunno why it's my job . . . my job to cycle the crystal cathode . . . not my crystal in the cycle . . . Dunno why it's my problem—"
Where Jarael was unquestionably beautiful, dangerous, sane, and seemed like someone out of a fantasy story, Camper was another story. Instead of the one man with the genius to get them off this literal garbage-world, he looked and sounded more like a homeless person. A crazy one at that, as he pushed what uncomfortably resembled a shopping cart loaded with trash while muttering to himself.
"His fingers," Natasha whispered into Bruce's ear.
It took Bruce a second, yet then it all leapt out so clearly. Contrary to what you would expect for a place so poor, or the raggedy clothes he had on, the older man's fingernails were clean. As were his skin and clothes for that matter. In contrast, Elloe and Lyja wore a layer of grime on them, and the former noble's nails were chipped. So while the man might indeed be crazy, obviously these people had the resources to live a step above the rest of the Undercity.
There were also miniature robots hovering about Camper, which he could tell at a glance had been assembled from trash.
Yes, there was potential here.
"We want to make a trade," repeated Lyja. "We're trying to get off-world, and if there's any scientist who knows how to deal with the wormholes, and the Grandmaster hasn't killed off, it's Camper."
"Oh!" beamed Camper, tapping his forehead. "Yes I do! Keep it nice and up here where it's safe!" He hit his fist against a wall, and a wide door shot up and open, and he puttered inside as if nothing had happened. Bruce was distracted by the workshop hidden inside the wall cavity, with lots of ongoing mechanical projects; many of them half-finished, and what looked like a sputtering, advanced arc welder having been left on.
"What're you offering?" Camper suddenly called back.
"Is there anything you—"
"Units, or specialized gear," Jarael interrupted. "Preferably Units."
"We've got a ship already," Natasha said, omitting how Bruce figured they would be needing a new one. "The wormholes are the problem. When we get back home to Earth though, we have connections for safety and security for everyone." That was based on the assumption that the Avengers had indeed stopped Ultron, and Bruce was not a wanted fugitive still for Johannesburg.
"Not interested," Jarael flatly said. Her stance shifted minutely, and Natasha knew Camper was not supposed to say that about the wormholes; it made them a target of the Grandmaster. If she, Bruce, and Lyja could not make it worthwhile, and were not going to be safely leaving Sakaar, then they were a threat.
"Because you're hiding," Natasha calmly noted, as if she missed the warning signs. "And what better place to do it than the bottom of a planetary junkyard where no one is supposed to be able to leave."
The older man turned around to face them, and his slack face firmed up as he straightened up, eyes sharper. However it seemed less like an act, and more him waking up. It reminded her of some stories she had heard of regarding people with dementia. Or Bruce when he drops the bumbling act.
"Except you can do it in better places," said Bruce, the spirit of diplomacy. "Earth isn't part of the galactic community; no one would know you were there, and you'd be living someplace a lot better than this."
"Oh?" Camper firmly said. "By your outfits beneath all those guns I'd say you stole, you were picked up somewhere pretty primitive compared to what we're used to. Someplace where we'd be dependent upon you for support." One of his robots made a series of beeping sounds. "Correction: you and your Skrull friend."
Lyja stiffened, before cautiously shifting back to her real form. "How'd—?"
"Don't matter," he gruffly cut off, while Jarael shifted so it was clear she was ready for a fight.
"What about your health?" Bruce quickly said.
"My health's just fine here!" blustered Camper.
"Camper, have you considered the possibility you're having problems because you're living in a garbage heap?" Bruce asked with studied politeness.
The two aliens stared at him.
"While I admit I don't know anything about your biology, it's just that you are living in a place where all sorts of alien germs and spores are growing, mutating, and doing who knows what. It's only a matter of time before something pops up that your older immune system can't handle. Or maybe an allergen. He'll probably improve if you get him off-planet." Assuming of course Earth was not equally toxic to his alien biology for whatever reason; except he would wager it was still far better than whatever a garbage heap had to offer.
There was a beat as Jarael's expression settled into a mix of defensive-suspicion, only for unpleasant wheels to turn in Camper's mind, before he heavily lowered his face into the palms of his hands. Bitterly he muttered, "I should've thought of that" just loud enough to be overheard.
Ah, thought Natasha resignedly. Another genius who misses the small yet ever so important things. Who knows how long they were running from whatever before reaching here though?
Not taking her eyes off of their guests, Jarael said, "Camper?"
He looked up at the ceiling, noting the signs of mold he had ignored as they became just a part of the scenery, and knew there was likely far more in the ventilation and walls by this point. ". . . They may be right." Plus, he knew Jarael deserved better than living down here. This 'Earth' might not be much, but right now he would consider the possibility anywhere was better than Sakaar. "Fine. We'll talk."
That was enough for her to relax her guard, and lower her weapon. "Okay. We'd better get moving before you lead security here."
"We've got some friends with a place," Bruce said. "We should head there."
"And uh, Earth's also got a way to call my people," Lyja added. "So yeah, we do have other places to go after Earth."
"Alright then," Natasha smiled. "So how are we getting back?"
-(Alien) Sun-
Later
"Whoa, what happened to you guys?" Elloe asked with some concern as their new companions plus two returned back to the 'house.'
While Bruce looked about the same, and the old guy with him appeared fine, the three ladies with them were exhausted. Natasha and Jarael were covered in sweat, Lyja panting, their clothes scuffed up and torn in places, Natasha had lost her shawl and gained a bruise on one cheek, while the new white-haired lady was letting the older man bandage up a cut on her arm.
Ashamed at how comparatively pristine he was, Bruce answered, "We had to travel through the Undercity to get here. The ladies covered Camper and I, oh, this is Camper and Jarael, while we carried some of their things."
"The Undercity!? Why!? How'd you not get lost!? And do you know how many people would've ambushed—oh. I see."
"Yeah."
"Good for a workout," smirked Natasha. She had also confirmed that Jarael fought with hard training and natural viciousness when roused, and was confident her strength was above Human average. Perhaps most importantly than how dangerous a fighter she was though, was how she did not kill everyone she fought—lives did matter to her.
She had also noted that while Camper was proud of his daughter's(?) skills, he was not boastful of it either. He was happy for Jarael's sake, not taking pride in having such a fierce protector. The older man also never even blinked at the sight of Brood, even if it was impossible to tell if that was because of the dementia, being in full Science Mode and not noticing, or because he really was that calm and composed at the sight of a species which sounded like Xenomorphs. Jarael's gloved hands had tightened on her weapon, yet kept her composure aside from that.
After getting all the gear settled, Bruce turned to their prisoner to be polite and check how she was doing, only to pause and carefully ask, "Are you okay?"
"Fine," bit out Scrapper 142, backed up into a corner as far away from No-Name as she could manage. "Just peachy!"
He glanced at Elloe and No-Name, yet they appeared confused, not guilty at misusing the remote to the Obedience Disc. He looked back at Scrapper 142, only for her to snap "What!?"
"Nothing. Sorry to bother you," he said with a neutral smile, and turned away.
Beads of sweat on her forehead. Hands trembling more than last he had seen her. A slight pinch to her expression which he anticipated as pain. Plus in hindsight, it was also surprising she had not spoken up until now.
However her expression showed no sign of fear, or anything —if she were Human, even if she seemed as Human as Thor— to make him think Elloe or No-Name had abused her in any way.
If she were Human though, he would instantly classify her as trying to hide increasingly severe alcohol withdrawal. Which . . . would be a problem. Going cold turkey never went well back on Earth, especially if it was forced on you.
Natasha was looking at him, and he mouthed "withdrawal" to her, and she understood. They would have to keep a close eye on their 'guest,' or find her something to drink, or she might do something reckless. Something dangerous, given how fast, strong, and desperate she seemed. All on top of her resentment at being made vulnerable by the Obedience Disc.
He had an uncomfortable feeling Natasha considered Scrapper 142 as someone to deal with, one way or another, and sooner rather than later.
Although even leaving her behind here might be a death sentence given the hints about this Grandmaster.
"Alright," grunted Camper, ignoring the byplay and underlying tension, to get down to business. "Who here's familiar with particle physics?"
"I am," assured Bruce.
Scrapper 142 remained silent, yet Bruce thought there was a flicker of interest.
"If it's about the wormholes in any way, I wouldn't know anything," Elloe reluctantly said.
"Not something I learnt either," said No-Name. "The Brood just teach a few, and then let our hive mind connect to the rest when needed."
"Flunked out of theory," admitted Lyja.
"Only enough for conversation," said Natasha, giving Bruce a knowing wink.
He only stared in confusion for an embarrassing moment before realizing it was so she could talk to him. For Natasha's part, her long hours of study were rewarded by his adorkable blush.
~~To Be Continued…~~
Author Notes:
In regards to the part where Natasha passes up on doing the 'smart thing' to help others, a subtle yet important moment for her character I feel in Infinity War, was when she was one of the ones telling Vision they were not going to sacrifice him for the needs of the many. This is not something I can see her saying even as far back as Winter Soldier.
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Do not worry Natasha, with you around, Bruce will not be falling for every attractive female fighter he meets :-P
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Camper's 'crazy homeless talk' is directly from Star Wars canon when they first introduced him.
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Next Chapter: 'A plan'
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Please Review, and I will get back to you!