"Dad, what are you doing?"
"Nothing." I said innocently, way too innocently.
"If Mom catches you, you're probably going to be dead." Tarts said.
"Yeah man, this isn't worth it." Miles said.
"Shush you two." I said. "I know what I am doing, and I am doing something fun."
"Yeah, because making a paint bomb with a tripwire is Mom's version of fun." Tarts said.
"One, it's not affecting Death." I said. "Two, it is her type of fun. As long as she doesn't get hurt."
"Yeah, Mom won't be affected at all." Tarts drawled out. "Just her new bestie will be covered in every color in the palette, and there will only be a small group of people that can be blamed, and there is only one person that can chew us all in, and said person is Mom."
"Is there a problem with us getting in trouble?" I asked.
"Yes?" Miles asked.
"No, there isn't." I said. "Yes, Patrick and Marie will be covered in paint. Yes, we will have a good laugh. No, it does not matter that Reaper will chew into us."
"Say that again, Legend?" Death said sweetly, popping out of nowhere, startling the hell out of us.
"No, nothing is wrong babe." I said immediately, looking at her frightfully.
"I'll be the judge of that…" She said, looking at me and the kids as if we were about to be sent to jail.
"It was all Dad's idea." Tarts blurted out after a moment.
"Betrayal at its fucking finest." I said, enunciating each syllable.
"Ease up." Death said, and gave me a light peck on the cheek.
I placed my spider legs around her, and used my hands to softly comb her hair, and she gently snaked her own arms around my back, and pulled her head an inch back, throwing most of her hair behind her back.
"Yeah, they're going into lovey dovey mode, Tarts." Miles said.
"Let's get out of here." Tarts said, and they both left in a rush.
Death and I both chuckled lightly, and I kissed her forehead. "Why do we always have to torture them like that?"
"We both know that we both enjoy it." Death said amusedly, tightening her grasp on me.
"That's true." I said.
Death rested her head on my chest, and said "I still can't believe that sometime in the future, you and Tarts will lose most of your powers."
"I still have the drive that I have always had." I said, smirking.
"Ohh, what exactly are you trying to say, Legend?" Death asked.
"What do you want to take from what I am saying?" I asked mischievously.
"Does Tarts have a full sibling in the future?" Death asked.
"No, do you want to make one for him?" I asked, grabbing her thighs and wrapping them around my hips.
She locked her legs behind me, and hoisted herself properly in my grasp, then attacked my lips.
After a while we parted, and she looked at me happily. "Thought you'd never ask."
I walked into the informal dining room, and yawned loudly. "How's it going Kid?"
"I'm feeling bored." Miles said. "We're just sitting here in Chicago and doing nothing."
"You realize we're in Chicago?" I asked. "And the Prohibition Era has already left its mark on this city?"
"Oh damn." Miles said and he jumped out of his seat, running for the passage to the Hive.
Suddenly he was floating in the air right in front of the door and running for no reason.
"I'm responsible for you, Kid." I said, inwardly laughing at Miles' peril. "You're not going out in your normal suit, and you aren't doing anything stupid without supervision."
"You did not just pull the adult card." Miles and Tarts said simultaneously, horrified.
"What are you going to do about it?" I asked triumphantly. When they didn't give an answer, I smirked. "Breakfast first. We can see the city later."
I let Miles go, and he begrudgingly took his seat at the table, as I did the same.
Anne came and sat at her spot at the table, and kicked Miles lightly in the shin. "How was your morning, Kid?"
"It was bad enough with only Peter now you had to join." Miles said, grumbling.
"What happened to me being your favorite person?" Anne asked.
"I never said anything close to me even liking you in any way, shape or form." Miles said.
"Go to hell." Anne said, whacking Miles lightly in the head.
"Been there, done that, never again." I said.
Anne gave me a look. "Where didn't you go?"
"If I knew I'd tell you." I said, smirking at her plight.
Patrick came, setting a plate of pancakes on the table. "Let's feast, people."
"Thanks homeboy." I said.
Patrick raised an eyebrow at me. "Homeboy?"
Miles snorted, and I groaned at the slip. "Homeboy is like something we used to say. It basically means… well it means homeboy."
"Homeboy. Huh." Patrick said, testing the waters. "Homeboy. Doesn't sound that bad."
Patrick sat down, and we started to eat.
Miles and I were flipping at each other, attacking each other at speeds way too fast for anyone other than Death and Tarts to follow.
"When are we going to Wakanda?" Miles asked as he attempted to trip me.
"Two to three days." I said, chopping at him.
Miles sent a roundhouse kick at my chest, and I bent back to evade the kick, resting my weight on my spider legs, then before Miles could bring his foot back to himself, I threw my legs off the ground, using the momentum I gained from my dodge to kick him in the stomach.
I jumped off the floor, as Miles rolled with kick and backed up five feet back. We both looked at each other, and threw ourselves at each other again.
"You've gotten better." I said, grunting as Miles stabbed me in the chest with one of his spider legs.
"What can I say, meditation is useful." Miles said as he went on the offensive.
"True that." I said, sliding in between his legs and getting behind him then aiming a chop at his prone side.
Miles crouched under my hand, then jumped up, sticking to the roof, then jumping off again, and ricocheting off the walls, floor and ceiling.
He kept on ricocheting, increasing speed and forcing me to move around to dodge his cannon-like attack form.
Slowly, he forced me to move into a corner of the room. It wasn't that I couldn't attack him in this form, it was just that to hit him in any way would have me receiving more damage than him unless I was as fast as him.
His black and red blur cornered me from every angle, and while I could be fast enough to get out Uhof this position, gravity wouldn't comply.
After searching for several moments, I found a weakness.
Jumping in the direction of a miniscule hole in his blockade, I made it out and ricocheted off the wall, and eventually became a blur just like Miles.
For a minute we were just bouncing off of everything, and attempting to hit each other to no success.
Eventually, I was able to hit Miles by crashing into him headfirst, and we both crashed onto the floor in pieces and groaning.
"I hate you, Miles." I groaned, reconnecting my whole body which didn't enjoy the crash, and letting my healing factor do it's work.
"My turn." Tarts said. "Me against both of you."
"That's not fair." I whined, resetting my back.
"For -ugh! us." Miles added, wincing as his neck cracked back into place. "We're not doing that again."
"First time you've won against me in a spar." I noted, getting up and limping to a chair.
"That wasn't a win." Miles said in confusion.
"Me and the bros have a system." I said. "None of our spars end in a clear win, so our way of deciding who won is that the person who started the move of destruction is the winner."
"What happens if there's only one man standing by the end of your beatdown?" Miles asked.
"We count that as a total decimation." I said, taking a towel and wiping the sweat that was starting to appear on my forehead.
Death sat on my lap, and I kissed the side of her forehead then put my arm around her, then we both leaned into each other.
"Peter, we've been here for a week now." Miles said, taking a seat. "What's the move?"
"So, I would call for help from the Nova Corps, but they have no reason to help, and as such, they won't." I said, displaying a hologram that displayed the general area of the known galaxy. "Other than that, in terms of help from space, I'd call in a favor or two from Arishem and his Celestials, but I can't have him focusing on Earth any more than he already is. I can't get any help from the Ravagers, and I can't get help from any of the other Celestials. I don't trust any of the big players out there, honestly. Arishem isn't trustworthy for obvious reasons, I'd ask Stan if it wasn't for the promise Father took from him, the Living Tribunal just needs a lot of help, and the Elders are obviously untrustworthy. So there isn't anything in terms of manpower from space, but we can collect a shitload of firepower from my planets. Extraterrestrial aside, let's look at the stuff on our planet. We can possibly enlist the help of Wakanda, there are one or two other advanced countries, but no one else will believe us, most likely. But we can put them on the back burner for now, and possibly enlist their help later. That's all, I think."
"What did you mean by Arishem and 'his' Celestials?" Miles asked.
"What are Celestials anyways?" Marie asked.
"Firstly," I said, "Celestials are these crazy strong beings. They create suns and planets on whim, and I can go on and on about their powers. Mind control, matter manipulation, energy protection, etc. I was a Celestial for a time, in fact, Tarts is a Celestial right now."
We all looked at Tarts, and he shrugged. "For now anyways," He said. "Dad said that we're going to lose this stuff anyways in the future, so yeah."
"And we can't trust that Gobby won't have a way to counteract the mind control, so we're not using that," I said. "Anyways, Miles. As to what I said about Arishem and his Celestials, I mean that within the Celestials, we have groups, or cults, if you will. Did you notice something in what you saw? All of the Celestials had the same type of headgear. That was significant to their clan. Arishem is the leader of their group, and there are other groups of Celestials. Unfortunately, I couldn't interfere or join any of them, what with me being dead. In that state, I couldn't interact with many people. I could only directly interact with Tarts and Death and everyone that already died, but I couldn't interact with anyone else. I was practically lowered to the role of a Watcher without asking for it. Currently, Arishem and his Celestials have the upper hand over any of the Celestials opposing them, and Tarts is among those. I have no reason to ask for help from his people, and as such, I won't. They are already somewhat on the defensive, even with their powers. But that's besides the point. Anyways, I intend to enlist the help of Wakanda, but I don't believe there are any other people who may be able to assist us."
"All right." Miles said. "Now what?"
"Now, we go to sleep." I said, turning around towards the not-an-elevator. "Let's get some sleep, people."