Oscar Ward
“...Are you not having fun?”
I look at Mark. “Hm?”
“I mean, I get it. These places lose their novelty after a while. It’s a bunch of sweaty people wandering around. The B.O is off the charts because the air con sucks, but it’s not boring, right?”
“Hm? …Yeah. I zoned out. Nah, this is great. It’d be better without you-know-who, though.”
“Tell me about it.” Mark shakes his head with a wry smile. “I knew the break was too good to be true.”
Following the fight with Battle Beast and Machine Head’s mercenaries, Cecil gave us two weeks off, which was nice. Mark was projected to be out for six of those days, but he’s got a nice holiday on his hands instead thanks to me. Or… well, what would’ve been a nice holiday if Cecil hadn’t sicced Shapesmith on us.
…Maybe that’s a little mean.
He only sicced him on us in the waning days of that break after a particular PR disaster. Basically, he’d watched this universe’s Man of Steel rip-off movie starring Omni-Man and thought it was a good idea to go around saving people as the guy. So, here we are at a convention, chaperoning Shapesmith-in-human-disguise.
I heave out another sigh, watching him accost a Darth Vader some distance ahead.
“Then what?” Mark asks me. “If it’s about the campus tour tomorrow, I’d be happy for you to come. You’d have to bring a date, though. Otherwise, you might be third-wheeling a little bit, but it’s not necessary. William’s got this guy. Rick, I think, and I’ve got Amber. What about you and Kate?”
Yeah, Mark stayed with Amber in the end. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But stringing a girl along with bullshit excuses for six months is admittedly a shit thing to do, even if he’s saving the world. Is it unfair to think he’s made the wrong choice here? Honestly, it’s a credit to her for staying with Mark after he put her through all that in the first place. Whether she knows he’s Invincible isn’t even the point. My bias aside, what’s the point of staying with Amber if he’s going to be dishonest?
But I can’t knock him for wanting him to try… despite knowing where it’ll end for the both of them with Anissa.
“...What about me and Kate?” I ask.
Mark’s giving me a shit-eating grin. I shove him, and he lets himself stumble forward, laughing.
“I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, how’d you even hear about us?” I ask. “Secondly, no. Kate and I aren’t dating.”
“Monster Girl told me.”
“...I forget you’re in the Guardians group chat. Maybe I’d remember if you came to the escape room.”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Still annoyed about that?”
“I couldn’t refund my ticket.”
“Didn’t you guys literally break out anyway?”
“That’s not the point.”
“...I’ll come to the next hangout.” Mark smiles guiltily. “Promise. It can’t be this weekend, though. You know why. When’s the next thing?”
I shrug, watching Mark’s interest fade a little in the face of my nebulousness. He glances at some passing Stormtroopers as we walk, giving my mind a chance to wander. After this weekend, Omni-Man’s going scorched Earth and fucking up quite a bit of Chicago on his rampage after he fails to convince Mark. Unlike the Battle Beast incident, which I’d completely forgotten about…
I’d spent the last few months nail-biting in the dark over what to do. My memories of all the Viltrumite weaknesses are pretty spotty, but there’s been no kind of crash landing for Zoe to find, so no Geldarians, and all the other weaknesses are off-world to my knowledge.
I sigh and pat Mark’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s grab some air before Shapesmith pulls something again.”
So what do I do? I’m weak sauce, right now, and that’s the understatement of the century. Omni-Man might be weaker than Battle Beast, but they’ll turn me into paste all the same. I hate to admit it, but interfering with their fight probably won’t do any good… Relief efforts, maybe? Whizzing about and keeping people alive in their wake? I guess that’s the best I can do, but the swirling doom-pit in my stomach seems to disagree.
Mark jogs up to Shapesmith. The Darth Vader cosplayer beside him seems a little unnerved.
“Hey, dude.” Mark slings an arm around Shapesmith’s shoulders. “How about we leave the Sith Lord alone.”
“He breathes very loudly. I wanted to know whether he had a respiratory issue he needed help with.”
“You haven’t watched Star Wars yet?” I ask as Darth Vader slowly backs away.
“A war in the stars? I’ve not seen one? Are the stars warring?”
The cosplayer flees once he’s at a reasonable enough distance, leaving Mark bowled over in laughter. Shapesmith wanders off again, mercifully leaving through one of the side exits.
We trail after him.
“...Fuck.” Mark snickers. “You know, I think he’s getting better. Barely.”
He’s… not wrong. Thankfully, everyone’s still inside, since it’s fairly early, just past eleven, so when we catch up to Shapesmith, he’s alone.
“I have learned much, Lantern!” He slaps a hand to his mouth. “S-Sorry! Oscar. I have learned much, Oscar. I look forward to grabbing a meal, Oscar. How about you, Oscar?”
“...One Oscar’s fine, Shapesmith.”
He nods quickly.
“You look like you’ve got another question, man,” Mark says, enjoying the tortured little dance my face does.
“I still can’t believe it! Humans enjoy pretending to be other humans. Almost like our Martian abilities, but your people are far more impressive. The ingenuity I have seen today has left me astounded!”
“You know? I never really thought of it that way. You’re not really wrong either.”
Shapesmith stops dead, and Mark and I nearly walk into him.
“What now?” I ask.
Shapesmith points at a food cart where there’s some guy selling hot dogs. “Oscar.”
“No.”
“You do not know the question.”
“I do.”
“You do?”
“Yes. The question is, ‘What is that?’”
“Precisely! What is that? Do they eat your pet dogs for sustenance here? I can’t say we martians do the same with sequids.”
Mark loses it.
I reflect on the fact that we ate lunch before coming to the con, but then my stomach gives a traitorous rumble. A few minutes later we’re sitting on a curb with paper trays balanced on our knees. Shapesmith stares at his hot dog. He’s excited, and that energy bleeds into me. Despite my shitty mood, the sight makes me smile. As annoying as Shapesmith can be… he’s pretty wholesome in a ‘spider that finds a home in the corner of your room’ kind of way.
I watch him take three bites of his dog.
“...Oh.”
“Good?” Mark asks through a mouthful.
“This may be the greatest achievement of your species.”
“Not the moon landing?” I wipe my mouth. “Or pizza?”
“No.”
“Penicillin?”
“No.”
“The internet?”
He takes another bite. “...Hot dogs. Truly, this sandwich is delicious!”
“You call that a sandwich again, and you and I are gonna have a problem.”
“But… is it not a sandwich?” He spreads the hot dog. “Look! Between the bread, there is a sauce, and a filling. Therefore, a sandwich.”
Mark nods solemnly. “You know what? Fair. Totally. I think I agree with him. I mean, are tacos sandwiches? If so, why aren’t hot dogs counted as sandwiches?”
“What is a taco?”
I hang my head. “Et tu, Markus?”
He chuckles, taking out his phone, I assume, to show Shapesmith what a taco is. Meanwhile, I lean back on my hands, hot dog devoured, and burp up some of the fizz from my empty Pepsi can.
It’s been nice to get out of the house, to be honest. I don’t really hate Shapesmith, as much of a headache as he is to look out for.
“Oscar?”
“Hmm…”
“I enjoy Earth.”
I glance over. The smile on his face is genuine.
“Life here is strange.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m happy for you, man. This world’s different to mine, but I like it—”
“Ooh! Oscar!”
I swallow my heartfelt words with a low growl. Mark snorts.
“...What?”
Shapesmith points to a flyer pinned across the street to a wall across us. Then he’s off, holding what’s left of his drink in one hand. Mark and I scramble after him.
“What did he find?” Mark asks as he scorfs down the ass-end of his hot dog.
“No idea.”
He pulls down the flyer. Mark and I glance over his shoulders. It’s a snapshot of an indoor track, where a pair of helmeted individuals in go-karts battle for the inside position. Mark’s eyes immediately light up.
“Oh.”
“...No.”
Mark punches my shoulder. “Oh, come on. I know you haven’t got anything better to do, and Cecil pays well… or so I’ve heard.”
“Taking money on the side, are you?” I mutter.
Shapesmith raises his hand. “I would like to participate in vehicular combat.”
I wince. “You’re not wrong… but you’re not right, Shapesmith. The goal isn’t to destroy your opponent’s car.”
“What is it, then.”
“To decimate ‘em on the track, making them eat your dust with how fast you’ll be moving, of course,” Mark says with. “Vehicular combat… I don’t think anyone’s explained go-karting better in my life.”
As if feeding off Mark’s enthusiasm, Shapesmith grips the flyer till the edges wrinkle and looks at me.
“...May we go?”
I planned on wrapping things up here, but…
“Fuck it.”
I hang my head. Mark pumps his fist in victory.
“...Sure, let’s go.”
Maybe thinking about the future can wait a few more hours, especially if there’s not much I can do about it, right?
【—〄—】
Days later, I’m forced to accept that I’m… not okay. It takes a lot out of me to admit that to myself, but without Mark to drag me out the house, or Shapesmith to call me… or Kate calling, or any number of distractions, I’m basically forced to admit that to myself.
“Ugh.”
I groan as I rise from the sofa, glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s 1 PM on… my brain fog clears a bit. Mark’s headed upstate tomorrow to go visit that campus. Probably dealing with that weird incel scientist guy. He’ll be back in a day or two…
It’s knowledge I’ve been sitting with for weeks, unable to do anything else. The helplessness is more of a torture on its own than my foreknowledge is. I saved Mars from the Sequids, and stopped Doc Seismic from running into those underground lava people, and in the process made sure a few thousand people didn’t become casualties. But what the fuck am I meant to do now? The best I can hope for is a repeat of what happened in the show with a lot less death. But I can’t help but wonder what if, even if it’s beyond me right now…
Omni-Man turning on the Viltrumite Empire early could be really helpful. He was given centuries to turn Earth right? If he’s on our side, we’d have so much more time to prepare properly. Mass produce anti-Viltrumite weaponry on a larger scale maybe, so that even people lower down the power ladder stand a chance. I just don’t know if I can get him to turn. He’s too strong, and I don’t have an in with him like I did with Battle Beast.
Fuck, man… I hate being the one to have to consider all this. Were it up to me, I’d have a blast with my ring as a hero without a care for anything else. But, well… super space Nazis.
“...Right, then. Let’s see.”
I sit up fully. The television is still on, though it’s muted. It’s showing some kind of daytime talk show. The host gestures animatedly at an audience that isn’t there. I don’t remember turning it on, or leaving it on if I did. The blanket slides off my shoulders as I stand. I’d apparently decided the couch was easier than walking ten feet to my bedroom to nap after the morning grocery run.
My house is a mess. The coffee table is stacked with takeout boxes, and unwashed dishes fill the sink endlessly. See, my apartment isn’t even dirty because I’ve been busy. I have a magic bullshit ring that’d trivialise cleaning instantly, but here the rubbish is regardless.
I’m a mess… a little bit.
I stare at the pile of takeaway containers and the pile stares back. We’re both disappointed in me, but I’m not exactly in the best headspace right now. Ring?
Current Charge: 100%.
Well, good for you, Ring, but shame about the rest of me.
I drag a hand down my face and wander toward the sink. It’s losing the war against my dirty dishes. I lift my right hand, tempted to will it all away, but I start the water and slip a pair of yellow gloves on instead. Who knows? Doing it by hand might be good for the mind, but before I can start scrubbing, I hear my phone ring. I turn the water off and trudge back to the living room.
There’s a plain capital ‘E’ against—funnily—a pink background. I answer.
“...Yo.”
“Hey! Busy?”
I glance at the dishes and the takeaway containers. The existential dread’s gone now that someone’s deigned to call. An undefined comfort swells within me at… being needed, I guess. I switch my phone over to my left hand, using the newfound willpower to clean the house in one go. Yes, I could’ve done this before, but it would’ve used a minuscule amount of charge. Next to, ‘I can’t be bothered’, that was a compelling enough reason to not do anything until I could will it myself at the cost of no extra charge.
“...Not anymore. What’s up?”
“Good. I wanna show you something. D’you know the forest a few hundred miles west of the city?”
“No, but I can find it. Why?”
“Go there. It’s a surprise.”
“Will I like the surprise?”
I can hear the smile in Eve’s voice.
“It’s a nice surprise. Promise.”
It doesn’t take long to leave the city behind, watching the roads turn into hiking trails. And beyond them, wilderness. There’s the vague sense that I should know what her surprise is as I fly over the forest, but honestly? I don’t. Why has Eve asked me to come into the forest at one in the afternoon?
“Hey!”
She’s sitting atop a pretty impressive treehouse formed into the side of a tree taller than any other around with a cup of coffee in her hand. I slow down, hovering back to get a good look at the house itself.
“What do you think?” she asks, floating off the straw roofing. “Pretty nice, right?”
“Yeah. Man, your powers are kind of bullshit, aren’t they? I mean look at all the furniture that I’m pretty sure you made from scratch!”
Eve snorts. “Not from scratch. But seriously? You’re talking?”
“As much as I’d love to defend my own brand of bullshit, I have to ask: are you gonna invite me in?”
“What are you—a vampire?”
It’s not like there are any doors, but it’s polite to ask, you know? I float in after her and take a seat at the table facing the slowly setting afternoon sun. Eve starts to fix me a cup of coffee, but I stop her with a shake of my head.
“I’ve got orange juice, if you want it,” Eve says, pouring it out of a carton.
I take a long sip and enjoy the citrus tang while I watch her. She looks… good. Happy, which isn’t exactly a word I’d use to describe her. For the months I’ve known her, she’s seemed listless. And if not, then she’s heartbroken or lonely, which I did try to help with at one point. Maybe jumping into another romantic relationship wasn’t what she needed in the first place. It was just the most convenient solution given her crush on Mark.
…I’m not exactly without bias there.
“So, what’s new with you?” I ask, setting my cup down. “You’re looking good.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t start, you flirt.”
I raise my hands in protest of my innocence. It was a genuine inquiry into her well-being!
“But… yeah. I’m good. Better than I have been in a long time. I’m sure of it now. This is what I want to do with my life.”
“What, living in a treehouse in the woods? …I mean. It’s not my thing, but fair.”
“No, helping people instead of beating up supervillains and destroying workplaces, homes, and cars is my thing.”
“I’ll have you know I helped stop King Lizard from turning people into lizards with his Snake-Ray or his Snake-Erator… or whatever he called it. I think people would rather stay bipedal. At least compared to clocking into work as a lizard-person, but that’s just me.”
She laughs. “I’m not knocking it. There needs to be people to fight the lunatics. It’s just… with my powers, I could do more to help people by actually helping them, you know? Stopping natural disasters and bringing food to the starving, that sort of thing. Plus, it leaves me so much more… more fulfilled than any bust-up with the Lizard League ever has.”
I concede to her by raising my mostly-empty glass.
“So, what about you? You didn’t sound too good when I called, Ozzy. Everything okay?”
Birdsong fills the expectant silence, even from up here.
“I’m… tired,” I admit eventually.
Eve turns her chair to face me, eyebrows knitting in worry. “...Physically?”
“No. I can punch monsters all day. Every time I solve one problem, there’s another waiting behind it. Eventually, it’ll be one I can’t solve. Then what?”
“And that’s bothering you?”
“Wouldn’t it bother you?”
“Yeah. Yeah,” she says. “It would. You’d be worrying yourself sick living like that.”
…She’s not exactly wrong. I stare into my leftover orange juice. Eve suddenly stands. Knocking the drink back, I turn to her with a smack of my lips.
“Come on, then.”
“Hm?”
She stretches her arms over her head and yawns. “...If you can’t solve the problem today, stop trying to and get busy instead.”
“...What are we going to do?” I ask, and Eve gives me a funny look.
“Hero work, of course. Seeing somebody smile because you made their day better… I dare you to tell me that doesn’t do anything for you.”
My mind flashes back to Harvey and the kids in the hospital and that little old lady giving me a thumbs-up after the bus rescue.
“So?”
“So what?”
“So what’ll it be?” Eve offers me a hand. “You down to spend the day with me?”
I stand slowly, tutting disapprovingly. “But Samantha. A man and woman spending the entire day together alone in the wilderness?”
“Are you for real? I’m trying to help you, you jackass!” She smacks my shoulder and I cackle. “And who the hell told you my name was Samantha? It better have not been Rex.”
“You set yourself up for that one. Don’t be mad at me for taking advantage of it. As for your name… I have my ways.”
“...I hate you.”
“No you don’t.
She slumps at the shoulders.
“Seriously, though. Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular.”
The words come out in an ominous register. Eve flashes a smile and grabs my wrist. She leaps from the tree house, dragging me behind her. The forest floor rushes up to meet us at an alarming pace.
“EVE, WHAT THE FUCK!”
She laughs. Her hair flies into my face, tickling my nose as we plummet. Then her pink constructs form a vast, almost magic carpet platform beneath our feet, and off we go into the cloudless blue sky while I struggle to keep my orange juice down.