Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn't merely a sudden pang of agonizing nostalgia in Gwen's heart. It was rather a sore wound homed in her consciousness for the last five years, which could become septic any day now. 

She sat distrait on the edge of her chair, cross-legged, wishing to fade away into oblivion. The fine dry threads of her tights rubbed against each and every fiber of her sweaty feet inside the shoes. She couldn't tell if she really needed to take her feet out of the shoes and reach for an itch she didn't exactly feel.

She ached for that old rumble under her feet in her Grandpa's RV. The tenuous sensation, which told her brain that she was always on the move. Never still. Because this stillness was greatly unnerving.

And this flavour of nostalgia felt bittersweet in her soul. Like sitting opposite to the direction of the moving vehicle. Yes, she was very much being dragged ahead without a choice. But she couldn’t just help but keep looking backwards. 

It was a muddy mess inside her head right now. Clunks of memories were tugging her vehemently against the ongoing reality. The whole classroom was bathed in a golden gleam. The stark blackboard at the end of the classroom hung in sharp contrast. Figures of blue and white arranged in rows, the whole scene seemed like a still painting to her.

The teacher's papery voice travelled to her ears in a state of mutter from a distant front. The words didn't even form to sound French. Just a bumbling collection of half-pronounced gibberish.

Suddenly, a gush of air from the window ruffled through her hair, blowing away any last ounce of her concentration she had. 

A crimson colour vision bled over her senses erratically, interlaced with a dirty green. The golden hues of the classroom just got swallowed by the images in her head. And there she was, a living ghost in her own memories. 

Without even moving a muscle, she felt the remnants of the adrenaline coursing through her in that moment when she was flung towards her cousin, Ben, five years ago. He was trapped in a plummy large bubble as Stinkfly and rushed uncontrollably towards their old foe, Charmcaster. 

Despite panic and urgency overwhelming every morsel of her sanity, she was certain, unlike on all the other occasions, that it was she who had to rescue the hero this time.

Which she totally did.

When she was hurled into the bubble, latching onto Stinkfly.

The sheer momentum of that collision thrust both of them out of the plummy energy ball. As she landed strenuously on the top of Stinkfly's chest against the concrete road.

She was surprised that the large pilgrim hat managed to stay on her head amidst the whole ordeal after all. Recovering from the ponderous fall, she instantly felt ambushed by the fetid smell emanating from the creature beneath her.

The sensation of a liquid-y warmth slowly climbed up to her throat. She couldn't decide whether it was the putrid scent of her cousin's disgusting transformation or an aftereffect of the thunderous fall.

Charmcaster's screams of despair at her foiled scheme rang in Gwen's ears, overtaking her nausea. She turned her head back to take a look at the witch who orchestrated yet another chaotic episode for them. That twisted face of teen rage felt victorious to Gwen. Her personal triumph coupled with major bragging rights for days.

The vision melted away slowly, like someone had splashed acid on her rose-colored, basic recollections.

She let out a long sigh, the little blow lifting up the careless strands of hair from her face. The lower end of her left palm gradually ached due to the weight of her head pressing on it through her little chin.

Yet, her eyes stayed lazily fixated on the board several desks away. As she continued to twist the loosely stitched off-white button on the cuff of her sleeve, the bell clanged, disturbing her weariness. 

The ambience around her started to buzz with discrete activities as the focus in her vision slowly crept in. She let her arms lazily fall down, keeping her head upright. She looked to her right to see Emily approaching in her wheelchair.

The blue sweater hung on her shoulders over the crisp white shirt, and its sleeves loosely tied on her chest. Her golden hair bounced off the soft gleam of the sun as she wheeled nearer. 

"No notes?" Emily questioned in her soft-as-a-leaf voice.

Shit.

Gwen shook her head.

"Again?" Emily asked. 

"Look, I remember everything from today's lesson. It's just French, not calculus," Gwen said. She pushed back her chair swiftly and stretched out her slender legs from the cramped room under the desk.

"I don't care about French. I'm worried about you." Emily frowned. 

"Em, I'm fine," said Gwen, averting her eyes away towards the door.

"You are so not. I know something's been bugging you and you're not telling me." Emily said as she watched Gwen get up from her chair while keeping her eyes glued to the door.

Emily followed her, trying to keep up her pace as Gwen marched out of the door. She knew better than to talk while moving. Gwen's pace would outmatch the sound of her voice, which would be drowned anyway in the incessant chatter flowing in the hallway.

She was finally able to put the brakes on as Gwen halted in front of her locker.

"Someday you'll find it empty and regret not getting it repaired sooner," said Emily in a single breath, to avoid huffing.

"You're the only one who knows it's broken," said Gwen with a corner of her lips going up in a smile. "So if it's ever empty, I know where to look."

Emily laughed out softly in response.

Whereas Gwen gripped the cold, steel handle of her locker door and pulled it open in one go. The door almost missed kissing her face with all the force she pulled it with.

Fuck it.

She paused with the entirety of her physical body and drew a series of tired breaths.

One... two... three...

Loosening her grip on the handle, she let the door swing open breezily. She extended her other hand inside and took out the crisp, unfolded sheets of her calculus assignment from underneath her carefully sorted heap of schoolbooks.

Instinctively, she then gave the locker door a faint push instead of gripping the handle again and pressed it closed.

"So, are you done with your Academy application?" Gwen asked, turning opposite to Emily.

Emily leaned ahead, grabbing her wheelchair rim firmly. She wheeled herself to Gwen's side. And her eyes gently went down as she prepared to answer Gwen's question. 

"No. And I don't think I would actually go through it," Emily said, with each subsequent word losing its volume.

Gwen stopped in her tracks and turned her heels to the right.

For the first time in the day, she truly looked at her best friend. It was only then that she realised how absent she had been from reality today. Emily's lively blue eyes were half shut, and her whole face hung in despair with a dash of annoyance.

A thread of guilt curled up inside Gwen's chest.

"Em, we talked about this. You can't just give up on your dream like this. It doesn't matter—" 

"It does, Gwen," Emily said, looking up at her. "I don't want to be the poster child for a pity acceptance. I want to get in because I deserve this. Not because—" 

"Just because Mrs. Jones said you'll have an easy time getting accepted since—"

"Is she wrong though? What if I get in because they look at me and think 'oh look, this year's charity case' and not because I'm truly deserving?" Emily's retort almost drew in a few onlookers.

She faced down at her empty lap, almost on the verge of tears.

"Emily, you do deserve this," said Gwen, pursing her lips for a second.

Emily lifted her face up to see Gwen's piercing gaze on her.

"Whatever you might get accepted for in the Academy, it won't announce itself before you play every time and have people judge you on that," continued Gwen, "Plus, the Academy won't accept you out of pity but because you are brave and persistent enough to pursue your dream despite everything." 

Gwen knelt down and opened her arms carefully, to not let the paper in her hand slip or get crimped, and engulfed Emily.

Emily, too, wrapped her arms around her best friend. She tilted her head, resting on Gwen's shoulders. The ease in Emily's posture seemed to diminish the remorse in Gwen's heart. 

"Thanks G," Emily muttered in her embrace with a faint smile. "I'm still not sure—if I would go ahead with it."

They separated from their embrace, and Gwen stood up.

"Let's just work on your essay for now, alright?" Gwen asked with a solacing smile.

"Fine. But you are the one now who'll sit down with me to finish it or do my French homework while I do it," Emily said, beaming back.

"I'll stick with the essay," said Gwen. "Let's go to the cafeteria. I finally feel like telling you what's been on my mind lately," said Gwen.

Emily's grin widened upon hearing her. She opened her mouth to verbally express her excitement, but stopped midway. Her smile retracted, and she looked at Gwen with an expression of perplexity. 

"What?" asked Gwen, noticing Emily's expression. 

"We were going to calculus, remember? It's not lunch break yet," said Emily. 

"Oh," Gwen murmured nonchalantly, "Mr. Briggs is not in the school now. So I'm guessing the class is cancelled," she said.

"But how do you know he's not here?" Emily asked with a raised eyebrow.

Before Gwen could answer her, footsteps sauntered towards them. They saw Caleb beginning to barge into their proximity. He wasn't much taller than Gwen. But he still had an encroaching build.

The solid sky-blue sweater on him complemented his cool, bronze complexion well, Gwen thought. Although the crisp, ivory shirt collar beneath that stuck out oddly. Still, bonus points for his handsomely squared hairstyle.

She laced a few fingers through her own hair only to get stuck in the tangles. She pulled her fingers back and mentally made a note to comb down the mess before it became a bird nest.

Emily wheeled back inches preemptively to avoid being towered over by Caleb as he finally stopped in front of them. 

"Hey, Gwen, can I borrow your homework? Mr. Briggs just left for the day, so I guess we've an extension," said Caleb.

The girls instantly turned to look at each other. Emily's eyes narrowed as she promptly folded her arms. Gwen gave her a shrug and turned back at Caleb. 

"Uh—sure," she said and handed the paper in her hand to him. Caleb received the paper avidly and skimmed over it.

"Cafeteria then?" Gwen asked Emily. She nodded, and Gwen stepped behind to grip the push handles. She silently ushered her out of the hallway. 

The cafeteria was predictably emptier and quieter than usual. Gwen led Emily to a sunlit lunch table, a little further away from the rest of the folks. She positioned her best friend on the open and shorter side of the oak table. And sat down adjacent to her on the hardwood long bench.

The mellow sunlight fell straight on Emily's face, putting a shine on her blonde locks again. It was a cliché,  but for the lack of a better word, to Gwen Emily did resemble an 'angel' in the sunlight. Well, she did have the heart of one. No doubt about that.

She had been a way better friend to her than Gwen had been to her over the years. 

Alas, Gwen found herself in the dilemma of finding herself in yet another dilemma. With the current matters in her psyche, did she have the space to regard—that whether she can contemplate giving more consideration and even priority to Emily's affairs?

What if she didn't?

How much of an inadequate friend would she be?

Would Emily notice?

Did she already? And didn't mind?

Or she did and was being considerate not to weigh it on her?

She had her head down, lost in those endless queries.

Bringing her fingers together on the solid tabletop, she cracked a few pilable knuckles carelessly. Her long strands of hair fell on her shadowed face, partially veiling it.

"Okay, enough with the mystery now. Tell me what's going on," Emily said, as if she dropped a noisy brick in Gwen's chamber of taciturnity. 

Gwen straightened her back and tucked the strands of hair behind her ear. And turned a few degrees to her right to face Emily. She silently shoved away all her quandary regarding Emily for now. 

"I feel like I'm fading away, Em," said Gwen.

"What's wrong, G?" Emily asked, her brows furrowed. 

"I am drowning—I'm inside this place like, behind a mirror, and I'm seeing my life drag ahead without me. Like those roads running back outside the RV's window," cried Gwen. 

"G, I love you. But you're not making any sense to me right now." Emily replied.

"I miss the adventures I had with Ben and Grandpa five years ago," said Gwen. "I miss fighting those stupid burglars, dangerous aliens, mad scientists, and—" she stopped and gulped down the spit in her mouth.

"You miss being a hero," Emily said. She placed her left hand on top of Gwen's, which was on its way to start chipping off her nails.

"Was I ever the hero? Or heroine? Or whatever you'd call it these days," asked Gwen. All the muscles in her face tightened in tension.

"Well—" Emily began averting her eyes away from Gwen and glanced towards the bright window. "You were one lucky girl. You at least got to have that adventure once in your life."

Gwen kept staring at Emily for a few consecutive seconds. Then she placed her idle hand on top of Emily's, which were resting on Gwen's other hand.

"Lucky girl..." muttered Gwen.

Her brain clocked back to the transient period of that fateful summer; when she had donned her 'lucky girl' outfit and fought side by side with Ben.

Knowing Ben then, she easily expected him to whine about her stealing his spotlight away. Instead, in one of his rare bouts of maturity, he expressed his contentment with getting some help.

Gwen wondered if that's all she was—a help.

"Isn't Ben back into all the hero business?" Emily asked, putting a sharp halt to the train of her thoughts.

"Huh? Yeah." Gwen sighed.

"Did you talk to him about this?" Emily asked.

"Em, we both know I'll be useless in an actual fight. I can't be just his sidekick anymore. With Grandpa gone, he needs people who can really make a difference," said Gwen.

"And here I thought you could Karate your way into saving the world. Silly me." Emily said with a smirk.

A feeble laugh escaped her lips before she got tugged back into her contemplation.

Lucky girl, she'd call herself. She wondered if she could retrieve the old news report from any of the archives, when she was interviewed as 'Lucky girl'. One of those exceptional instances where she got her due share of appreciation and fame.

Even though she was masked up and no one could guess that their local makeshift saviour was an ordinary girl from Bellwood, she considered those few minutes of glory to be the most extraordinary moments in her otherwise dried-up existence.

Where was that old purple ornate mask anyway? Maybe in some dusty corner of the attic. She wasn't sure. Also, that purple jumpsuit would barely fit her now. Not like she was going to become 'Lucky girl' again.

Why bother?

Yet she still continued to wonder further about the gauntlet she had. The gold and gaudy piece of jewellery, streaked with shades of blue. It had a tiny, crimson-colored Keystone anchored to it right in the middle.

The Keystone of Bezel.

The magical talisman which could increase a person's notable prowesses tenfold. It exemplified her own heroic abilities fleetingly, back then. The anchor to the identity of 'Lucky girl'.

And she still had it. Somewhere in her home, waiting for her.

Gwen straightened up again slowly, unknowingly withdrawing her hands from Emily's grasp.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked her.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this before," said Gwen, gazing into the far corner of the cafeteria. 

"You're—scaring me now," Emily said, leaning back on her wheelchair. 

"Em—" Gwen looked at Emily. "Would you mind if I run back home now? I'll be back before lunchtime ends."

"Not at all," Emily said. "As long as you tell me later what's all this about. Okay?"

"Okay," said Gwen, smiling. 

She stood up from her bench and sprinted the moment she stepped out of the table area. Swinging her angled arms, she darted across the cafeteria floor towards the exit door. The continuous and rapid tapping of her shoes drew a number of eyes towards her.

"No running in the cafeteria!" The matron shouted from behind.

"Sorry!" She shouted back, raising an arm in acknowledgement. All without stopping. 

Within seconds, she was out in the hallway. A few hair strands fluttered their way into her mouth amidst the rush. She clenched her eyes close momentarily and unsuccessfully tried to spit them out.  Unwittingly, she halted right at the school entrance, steps before the flight of stairs. 

She opened her eyes and snuck a few laboured breaths in. She removed the hair strands from her mouth and walked down.

As soon as she touched flat ground, she galloped again, only to robustly collide into a chest. She was almost flung back due to inertia, but a set of sturdy arms caught her.

Gwen, coming out of her daze, looked up at the face of the boy who held her.

"Michael?" She whimpered.

Nested so snugly in Michael's embrace, her shoulders released the tension and went down. His crystal blue eyes gazed at her face, which was shrouded in his own shadow. Gwen couldn't help but gaze back at his chiseled features. It wasn't too often she got to see him anyway. And especially never this close.

To begin with, she had only known Michael as an extravagant character in Ben's plumber stories. And Ben had nothing but heaps of praise for him. The wealthy, living-in-his-own-mansion, Plumber kid who joined forces with him against the big, bad alien conspiracy.

He'd channel some golden and shimmery kind of energy into potent blasts to subdue the aliens, Ben told her. And oh, he can also fly. Something, Gwen would scoff at internally, in disbelief. 

He finally materialized into reality during one of her few visits to Ben's house. Gwen almost believed he didn't exist or was some freak. So meeting him was either a meaningless coincidence or some confusing move of fate. She couldn't care any less. Although him turning out to be the opposite of a freak made her question her distrust in Ben's claims about him.

"Hello, Gwendolyn," said Michael. 

Gwen almost opened her mouth on instinct, but there weren't any words waiting to come out. 

"You look—lovely, as always," he said and flashed a smile.

"Uh, thanks," Gwen replied, red in her cheeks.

Realising the lack of substantial distance between them, Michael gently released her from his grasp. Averting her eyes away, Gwen reached for her sweater sleeves and smoothened them.

"Where are you headed in such a hurry?" he asked.

"Home," she answered. And she suddenly worried that she sounded curt. She had no interest, after all, in sharing her intentions with a somewhat known and attractive stranger.

"I can give you a ride," he offered. 

A ride would indeed be great, Gwen considered. It would save her a significant amount of time travelling back and forth. Or at least the way back home. She sure as hell wouldn't bring him home. Or ask him to wait in the car.

But wait. Why was she suddenly contemplating getting into his car in the first place? Where did he even appear from? Why was he there?

"So?" Michael asked, almost desperate. He put his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants.

"I—shouldn't keep you from doing what you came here for," Gwen said. Her tone almost sounded as if she was gambling an answer for a desired reaction.

Michael laughed out in response, almost infuriating her.

"I'm here to see you," said Michael. 

"Me?" Gwen asked back with wide eyes.

"Your school is hosting the Summer Formal dance, isn't?" asked Michael. 

"Uh—huh," 

"I wanted to take you to that if you—don’t have a partner already." 

Gwen parted her lips again without any words coming out. The air hung thick with awkwardness between them.

"You don't have to answer now," said Michael with a light smile. "And I would still give you the ride back home, even if you say no to the dance."

Gwen broke into laughter, and he kept smiling at her. She looked at him again, assuming his chivalry would stir something inside her. But the butterflies in her stomach seemed dead. But she certainly didn't need them to get home in his car for now.

"Thanks. It'd be a huge favour." Gwen said to him. Followed up with a smile with as much sweetness as she could muster. She wasn't sure if the show of gratitude seemed saccharine enough. But Michael looked convinced. 

He stepped aside and raised his arm to show her the car parked on the sideways.

She saw a sleek and outrageously golden vehicle standing there. A Cadillac, to be a little precise. The white roof somewhat saved it from looking absolutely gaudy. In fact, if she looked harder, that thing appeared how Michael would exactly look like as a car.

A chuckle almost slipped out of her lips. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Michael asked, still looking at the car.

"It's—certainly unique," said Gwen. 

"It's a '69. But the interior's all up to date." 

Gwen slowly nodded with a face of fake wonder on its way to becoming impressed. But it never did.

Michael then walked up to the car, and Gwen followed. He opened the door to his passenger seat for her before she could glance at herself in the glass window. Gwen quickly flashed him another grin and bent low, going in. She almost sank into the enormously plush seats. They were so white, she wondered if anyone ever sat in those.

Michael sure wouldn't just buy a whole new vintage car just to impress her, right?

Although she appreciated the plentiful amount of legspace. Michael entered the car in the next second and settled in, smiling at her. He fired up the ignition, grabbing the golden steering wheel with his left hand and the gear stick with his right. The engine roared loud enough to startle her internally. The intense vibrations coursing through her from the car didn't help either. Yet, she maintained her facade to hold off Michael. 

"Brookstone Lane," Gwen informed him while she put on her seatbelt. 

As they rolled onto the road, the car and Gwen both eased into the momentum. However, her heartbeat seemed to become increasingly noticeable to her. The rising anticipation of seeing the keystone again rattled everything inside her.

To hold it in her palm again and feel the magic make its way through her—it would be nothing short of exhilarating. 

"So, why are you running home in the middle of a school day?" Michael asked, breaking her chain of thoughts. 

Gwen looked at him, pursing her lips to hide her annoyance at being interrupted.

"I—forgot my calculus homework. Probably left it on the table," answered Gwen.

"I see," he said with his eyes still on the road.

"How are things with Ben? And—you know—with all the alien fighting stuff," Gwen asked in a dire attempt to prevent any awkward silence. 

"Tense," Michael replied. His grip tightened around the steering wheel, and eyes narrowed. "We got a tip to chase a piece of tech, but that would also risk blowing up the cover of our informant. So we're still struggling to get our hands on it."

"Oh." Gwen kept looking at him for a few seconds in concern, unsure how to respond. 

"Then there are some girls from my school gone missing and turning up at odd places like the highway—" Michael paused and glanced at her through his peripheral vision.

Gwen's uneasy eyes were still fixated at him.

"You don't need to worry about us. This is far less dangerous than what we face in general. We'll handle it. I promise," he said.

Gwen gave him a nod and looked at the road ahead. She had no clue what to do with the pieces of information she had just received. But strangely, she felt left out. Sure, she isn't a plumber like Ben or Michael. But there have been times Ben had consulted her.

She wasn't sure if Ben would have still done so if Grandpa were around. Maybe she was just a cheap ass knock off of Grandpa to Ben. Although coupled with her somewhat expertise in tech and research—there were indeed occasions where she served as an integral ally to him. So, maybe it wasn't entirely unreasonable for her to expect that Ben should have shared some of this information with her already.

In the next blink of her eye, they entered her neighborhood. She had him halt right in front of her three-storeyed home's cobblestone path.

"I'll wait for you," said Michael as Gwen unstrapped herself. 

"Thanks Mike, but I just remembered I have a few calls to make. I don't want to keep you waiting," Gwen said with an apologetic look.

"I see."

Michael's face didn't fall as much as she had imagined. But he certainly didn't expect to be shooed away.

"My mom's at work and—"

"Hey, you don't need to worry. Alright?" Michael attempted to reassure her. "I—I like you, Gwen. And I just wanted an excuse to see you. No pressure on you." He smiled.

This confession wasn't a surprise to her, of course. But him saying it out loud made the realisation more stinging that she was probably never going to feel the same. He wasn't even her type.

She didn't even know her type.

But Michael for sure wasn't one of them. And she had a valid reason for it. Or at least that's what she thought.

There was something she just couldn't put her finger on. She couldn't prove it or even agree on it with herself—that Michael wasn't what he seemed to be on the surface. She didn't buy his act for most of the part. The oh-so-humble, Mr. Richie rich, handsome, flawless stranger.

There had to be a crack.

Nobody's that perfect.

Irrespective of how high Ben held him in his regard.

"Well—thank you. I'll let you know about the dance," said Gwen and quickly got out of the car, without sparing him any smile.

She sprinted towards the main door and heard Michael's car zooming away.

Gwen turned back to verify his absence. And then she rang the doorbell. She tapped her left shoe on the ground as she stood waiting, tilting on her right leg. 

The door opened, revealing her mother, Natalie, in the doorway. She cocked up an eyebrow silently, expecting an explanation from her daughter. It wasn't an usual occurrence to see her back from school like this. And that too without her backpack. 

"I—uh—forgot my homework," she said and ran into the house. Natalie closed the door behind her without a word. 

Compared to the blazing outside world, Gwen's home had always been somewhat dimmer. Both literally and metaphorically. And it acted as a curtain of solace to her rather than diminishing warmth. The world could be as cruel and harsh as it wants. And she'd always have a place to run back to.

The noise of her clacking shoes echoed loudly from the stairs. She finally crossed the flights of stairs to burst open the door to her room and dive right into the storage drawer of her bed.

She rummaged through her dusty old belongings. Heaps and boxes of stuff she had hoarded her entire life. Old birthday cards stacked neatly and held together by a scrawny rubber band. Framed certificates from debate competitions, science quizzes, martial arts matches, etc. 

Her old journals were resting on the folded stack of worn-out junior Karate uniforms. Photo albums, a stash of sentimental letters, and her previously favourite top from that same summer trip—the light blue one with the cat emblem. To the left of which was rolled up her lucky girl ensemble. 

She pulled out the rolled pieces of the outfit. And went on to shut the door to her room. She carefully unwrapped the roll to reveal the gauntlet.

Finally.

She turned the gauntlet around, ready to finally unveil the Keystone of Bezel. Her hopes of leading a life larger than the current one, to become visible and tangible.

But the smile on her face came down crashing to see the mount disappointingly empty. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The sun was hot and harsh on Gwen’s face — a sharp contrast to the chilling death threat issued to her. Sweat drizzled down from her forehead, tickling slightly. Her long hair spread over the back of her neck felt itchy in the heat and terror. But her nerves had frozen up enough to produce any physical reaction.

Each passing second felt like a step nearer to a complete breakdown. Physically. Mentally.

She could’ve come down like a house of cards. And rather be dead than keep anticipating her survival.

What puzzled her further was his need to alert her; had he truly intended to shoot?

Was it merely an intimidation tactic?

A foolish security measure?

Was this person even Kevin?

This whole time, she had pictured Kevin to be an outlandishly gigantic slob of muscle with an ugly face. Coupled with robotic implants and otherworldly limbs. To her reasoning, anyone would have done so if they heard the phrase ‘black market alien tech dealer’ for the first time.

But there he was—in a handsome human form. Young and athletic. Looking down at her. And no visible robotic grafts whatsoever.

Not that she would’ve really minded.

And sure, he had a garb of ferocious temper in that moment. But that expression didn’t feel home on his sharp face. In good days, Gwen assumed, he could be a jester.

But now, clad in black, grey and blue—Kevin looked no different than a modern and broad figure of the grim reaper. With a blaster in his hand, ready to blow her brains out. Even if he hadn’t shot her yet, it didn’t look like he was playing around. He would shoot if it came to be.

Thus, she had to think fast and useful.

She had the Keystone with her. Of course. Secured in her pocket as it was yesterday. But it would be useless until she took some action. Or at least devised a clear frame of plan for it. In her current state, even breathing felt laborious and terrifying.

She stopped staring at him and, in distress, shifted her gaze around. She immediately noticed Kevin cautiously following the movement of her eyes. She looked back at him. This time, straight into his dark, stormy eyes.

Only if she could’ve read them.

Was he suspecting she had a backup? Well, he was paranoid enough to threaten an unarmed visitor with death. So it seemed plausible that he’d assume the worst.

A loud clack from the blaster suddenly disturbed the silence around them. She registered his vague hand movement around it. He was probably readying the weapon to its full power. And yet, he still hadn’t shot her. What was he even waiting for?

Was he afraid she’d retaliate? Critical enough to cause him some serious damage?

If yes, then his fear and ignorance were something to take full advantage of. Better than to gamble and hopelessly plead to him on the brink of her supposed demise.

She resolved to follow her instincts with this one. It was time for her to act.

In an instant, she sharply looked over his left shoulder, startling Kevin wordlessly. He might’ve thought his silence had prevented alerting her to his intensified fear. But she was far more observant than anyone gave her credit for.

She knew she was in. Now, if only she could mentally disorient him enough so she could run away. But not without his blaster.

Widening her eyes in pretence, she shouted into the emptiness behind him—

“Not now!”

Kevin spun back in panic to see who the recipient of that order was. Successfully falling for her bluff.

And there was the opening she was waiting for.

Gwen swung sharply to her right, her left leg in the air as she revolved a full three sixty—striking the blaster away from Kevin’s hand. It plummeted to her far right from the impact. And Gwen sprang immediately to fetch it. She pounced on the blaster, grabbing it with all the strength she could muster.

The blaster was bulkier than she had assumed—sleek, but definitely not easy to carry unless trained for it. Which she wasn’t. Not that it mattered at the moment. She got back on her feet and turned back to see Kevin almost struggling for balance.

Reeling from that unexpected charge, he finally steadied himself and ran towards her in rage in the same second. But Gwen had the blaster aimed at him already, making him stop his pursuit.

Her eyes gleamed under the sun as she stared back at him. She held her head high with a little pride, enjoying how the tables had turned in her favour.

His lips curled into a sneer with a challenging gaze back at her. Gwen wasn’t worried because he had no ground to threaten her now. And while she had no intention to make a kill, she didn’t need to announce it to him. He should be convinced that he could be dead at her will.

And yet, Kevin’s expression twisted further in unadulterated fury. Those eyes calling death upon her.​

A cold stem of terror sprouted in Gwen.

No.

That wasn’t what she predicted. He should’ve been defensive and ready to negotiate for his safety. Not preparing for further aggression.

But why?

She was the one with an advantage now. He couldn’t have shot her. He had no choice but to listen to her. Will he?

And what would she even have said?

It dawned upon her again that she wasn’t prepared at all. Not a fucking bit. How could she have introduced herself and her purpose to him in the least amount of non-aggravating words?

She had no idea. Not one.

He closed his fingers tight and burst out tiny sparks. His naked fists slowly began surging with bright energy. Bright enough to be visible in direct sun. And cackling loud. It drew her gaze to his rugged hands, her eyes widening upon witnessing that phenomenon.

But he possessed no weapon. How could he have been even doing that?

Oddly, Gwen’s mind fiddled through the pages of her memories on its own, recalling Ben describing Michael’s powers— he'd channel some golden and shimmery kind of energy into potent blasts to subdue the aliens.

But the energy in Kevin's fists was neither golden nor shimmery. It flared incandescently in acute shades of blue like lightning. Ready to strike his target, charred and dead. What it lacked was a blaring thunder. This only made it look more murderous and exquisite.

Looking at him as a whole now, Kevin surely wasn’t a pretty little perfect vision like Michael, Gwen thought. He was—Rowdy. Unrelenting. And absolutely hot. Despite the fact that he was out for her blood.

Fuck.

Gwen couldn’t decide whether she needed her best friend, a therapist or a priest now.

Shaking herself back into the zone of rationality, she decided to either run or retaliate in the face of immediate danger. She chose the second one first to avoid embarrassing herself. Both in her own and Kevin’s eyes. He appeared to be someone who’d respect foolish bravery than calculated surrender.

To test the retaliation mode, she put her fingers in the trigger guard. A little too quickly. That rapid movement of her fingers drew Kevin’s attention and at once provoked him to concentrate all the sparks in his hands into one collective beam.

Her fingers trembled on the trigger. She had no time to shoot.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Gwen pushed away her upper body towards the right to dodge his incoming blast as he raised his arms to aim at her. And ran straight behind a tower of thick tires near the shed’s entrance. At her back, she felt a gush of warmth as she missed the blast he hurled at her. She dropped to her feet, hiding behind the tires, breathing heavily.

She bit her lower lip hard and clenched her eyes close. Is this what Ben had to go through every day? Every fight? How the fuck did he ever manage to stay sane?

Why the fuck was she going insane? It wasn’t like she faced a threat like this for the first time. She had a whole summer full of running from and behind the villains five years ago. Then why was she losing her cool?

She was an accomplished Martial artist. Trained and disciplined for years to fight hard when it came to be. Without fear. And she did. A few moments ago. Then why had every cell in her body drowned in such dread?

Was it because this time it was so personal? Or because she was all alone? And so damn vulnerable?

Or was it something about him?

The roulette wheel of her heart couldn’t decide what impression to fucking land him.

Vicious?

Breathtaking?

Or just plain unhinged?

These unclear signals were causing serious turbulence inside her head. And she was going to crash.

She opened her eyes and realised she was still hiding from her pursuer, not on a therapist’s couch. All these retrospection could come in later when she’d have made it out alive and will be at Emily’s. Something positive to look forward to in that moment. She took a long breath, slouching over.

And right at the second, she was beginning to believe she could take a damn break from all that craziness—she was thrown forward with a loud bang.

As she landed on her chest, arms out above her head and the blaster still gripped tight in her hands, a pungent smouldering odour overtook her surroundings. Her ribs were now seeped in crunching pain from the impact. She probably scraped somewhere near her knees as well, which she’d need to check for later. Thankfully, her skull was still intact.

She arduously turned her head back to see the tires scattered away in pieces behind her, amidst smoke and tears. A few of them had caught tiny fires. The smouldering odour was intensifying with each passing second.

As the smoke dissipated and Gwen managed to get on her bruised knees—she saw Kevin advancing on her. One of his fists pulled in another shot to fry her up—to death this time. This sight filled her in with enough dread to start running with one leg up on the ground. Straight into the shed.

Her chest hurt from the pressure of the sprint, and a painful tingle on her knees from the bruise brushing against the rough stockings she had on. She wondered what she’d tell her parents if her injuries were hospital-worthy. Emily’s house didn’t even have stairs to fake a slip and fall story.

The shed felt noticeably cooler and darker in contrast to the fireshow outside. The stale air inside it was like ice on her skin. Soothing and stalling. This drop in temperature brought down the heat inside her thoughts as well. Remembering she’d have the whole night to cook up any story to present to her parents, she wanted.

She then took a second to scan the area she had tread into.

At a glance, Gwen could see a stunning dark green muscle car parked beside the left wall. It definitely looked like a vintage inspiration. A magnificent beast.

Two parallel black stripes running over the green body from the hood to the trunk. A hood scoop on the front, a single door and two pristine circular headlights on each side. Even the tires looked clean as new. Maybe they were new. Every edge of that vehicle screamed perfection. As if its owner loved and cared for her to the point of death.

Now that’s the kind of car she would willfully go into. Unlike the disaster-in-gold, Michael’s car was. Her opinion of him might have changed last evening, but that car of his was a totally different subject matter. It was less ugly now, but still ugly.

Looking around, the off-white, dimly lit walls of the shed were lined with half-height, chippy cabinets set up from the ground. Its partially closed doors allowed quite a few open-ended wires, and unknown equipment to peek out. The floor had even more tires lying around, along with a few stray unlabelled boxes here and there.

To the far right, a fire extinguisher was hanging from the wall. Another was kept on the cabinet's corner, suggesting recent use. Surrounded by more but smaller hardware equipment.

Bending her expectations, the shed wasn’t dirty per se. Dusty, sure, but not dirty.

Above the cabinets in front of her, there were a number of mechanical objects she couldn’t identify. None that mattered. Except for the one thing she came to pick up. Maybe she could steal it and run away. Big dream, but she dared to imagine so. If only she could’ve identified which of them she needed to make a run for.

Before she could scheme further, the sound of Kevin’s heavy yet steady footsteps prompted her to run further and find cover behind the car. Since there was nothing else that could hide her wholly so well. But the space sure wasn’t dainty. It reeked of paint. Not that she had the luxury of complaining about the ambience right then.

All the sweat on her body evaporated, leaving frosty residues, making her feel airy. Also making her realise what a bloody mess she was. Her beautiful auburn hair was in complete shambles. And she also noticed the threads of her stockings were distinctly pulled and knotted all over the place. Her white cuffs were laced or, more likely, imprinted with dirt.

Most importantly, her fingers were feeling cramped from the tight grip on that bulky blaster. She relaxed her fingers a little and took a few long breaths. That was the most relaxed she might be able to get before she’d be dragged out or attacked by Kevin in not too long. So hiding was futile unless she could get a clear shot at him to blast him out before he finished her.

As she sat behind the trunk, leaning on it, she still angled the blaster a little up to the right, where Kevin would most likely ambush her from. Unless he decided to monkey out and jump from above. But she’d sure feel the disturbance from it beforehand and aim that way. She was sure there was no way he could just fly out to her, at least.

With every jarringly audible heartbeat, her patience was reducing exponentially—inversely proportional to the anticipation of being blasted to death in that filthy corner. No matter how clean the tires looked, she still made sure none of her arms were touching them willingly.

“Get the fuck out of there!” she suddenly heard him scream, startling the bones out of her.

What?

Now he wasn’t interested in attacking her head on? A few minutes ago, he attempted to murder her for simply visiting his compound, and now he is standing it out?

Gwen had no logic gears whirling in her brain to process this absurdity.

Why did he withdraw his attacks once she hid in the shed? Compared to the time she was behind the tires, he made a point of bombing those.

Maybe because those tires were worthless to him compared to what could be damaged if he blasted up his shed. No surprise, given the number of tech pieces lying around there. Some of them definitely looked complicated and expensive. One of them could be the very thing she was sent to pick up. He couldn’t have afforded to destroy any of those.

But had it been the case, he could’ve barred her entry to the she right there and then. Why did he stop following her once she hid behind the car?

The car.

It was the damn car. He did not want the car to be caught in the crossfire.

It must have belonged to some high-end customer. Which is why the tires looked new, and he must have re-done the paint job.

So she was safe until she remained in the vicinity of the car. He won’t dare hurl a spark at her. But for how long could she’ve stayed in there? He’d have eventually found a way to draw her out. She needed to think quickly before he gained an upper hand on her again.

If that car was precious enough for him to stand down from attacking, she could definitely take advantage of it to make him listen to her. She could take the car hostage.

Gwen stood up calmly, avoiding kneeling to spare her the pain from the bruises and the blaster tight in her hand again. She walked out of the spot and faced him empty-faced. She could see a faint smile appearing on his lips as she made her appearance. He probably assumed she was just ready to give up. How naive.

As he began curling his fingers into a fist again—she carefully moved the blaster’s aim towards the car. And witnessed the smug smile on his face being replaced with sheer terror. She couldn’t help but grin seeing his predicament. His fault for assuming she had emptied her bag of tricks that soon.

“If you put so much as a scratch on my ride, I swear I’ll skin you alive,” he said in a menacingly low voice.

His ride? So the car didn’t belong to a customer but to himself. That meant the stakes were much higher for him. It was now personal. And Gwen just risked him going full ballistic on her as if his reaction before this wasn’t already over-the-top.

Anyhow, in the current given moment, she had the gun to his head or rather to his beloved ride.

“Big talk for a guy who couldn’t even keep his blaster safe,” Gwen said.

“Does it look like I need a blaster to kill you? I can smother you to death with these bare hands—”

“Go on. Kill me then. If you’re so eager.” Gwen flashed him another grin, inching the blaster closer to the car.

His face looked dry of any soul at this point. And it filled her with sweet delight to see him tormented like this. She wondered how long she could keep this up, though.

“You’re going to be dead—”

“No, I’m not. And you are going to listen to me, Kevin,” she ordered him. “Or—”

“Or what?”

“You want a demo?” she said, curling her fingers around the trigger.

He didn’t answer, just kept seething at her.

“That’s what I thought. Now, as I was saying—”

“Why should I listen to some scummy alien intruder like you?” he barked at her.

Gwen scoffed. She would have even accepted ‘clown’. But ‘alien’—sounded almost like an insult. And a dramatic irony, given he was the one with ‘superpowers’ chasing a defenceless girl around. Being careful could’ve been an acceptable premise to her, but Kevin was what she’d call, straight out delusional.

And unhinged. That’s where the wheel stopped then.

“Scummy alien? Are you insane? Can’t you see I’m a human for fuck’s sake!”

“Then why does my scanner say you’re—an anodite?”

“Ano—what?”

“You think you can just walk in here and steal my equipment—my car!”

“Steal your car? Seriously?” She rolled her eyes so hard that she could bet she saw her own soul.​

“Why else would you be here? No one comes to my shop without my permission. Nobody.”

“I am here to pick up the package for Ben Tennyson,” she said, and felt relief wash over her instantly for finally letting it out.

Fucking finally.

Saying it out loud felt like plucking out a thorn from her ailing chest. Maybe she should’ve had a board with that written on it. It would’ve certainly made things easier and considerably less violent.

Kevin stood dumbstruck for several seconds, then took a step forward. Gwen immediately stepped back in reflex and tightened her fingers around the trigger out of fear.

“Don’t shoot!” he screamed at her.

“Then stop coming at me!’ she yelled back.

“Fine! Just get that damn blaster away from my ride.”

“So that you can kill me?”

“I’m not—going to kill you,” he said.

Gwen raised her eyebrow in suspicion.

“For now,” he said and smiled.

“There it is.”

Kevin sighed and threw up his hands, stepping back deliberately. Gwen’s shoulder slumped with that display of surrender, but she still kept the blaster’s aim intact.

“Just take off your ID mask. Will ya? It’s weird,” he said, crossing his arms.

ID mask? Gwen recalled Ben telling her that the DNAliens would hide among humans using something called ID masks. An equipment designed to change the user's appearance at will. An aid for disguise.

Did Kevin still think she was impersonating a human being? What a jerk.

“And get the fuck away from my ride,” he shouted.

“I’m not going anywhere. And this—is my real face. Like it or not,” she said the last part more bitterly than she intended.

Kevin kept staring at her as if he were looking for answers to the questions he didn’t even ask. And she was getting uncomfortable now. Quite ironic, given that she enjoyed surveying him all over a few minutes ago.

Did he feel the same way about her? Which is what made it weird for him?

That he didn’t want to believe someone looking like her could be a petty alien intruder.

What did she even look like to him?

Why did it even matter?

He was worlds apart from her. Technically, a criminal. An illegal trader.

She couldn’t guess why the Plumbers would even fraternize with him rather than arrest him. Maybe he negotiated for immunity. Who cared?

“You’re not a repo agent, are you?” he asked calmly.

“No. Why?”

“I can’t believe it. They sent a Plumber to retrieve the package?” he yelled, looking away.

Gwen felt absolutely scattered at this point. At first, Kevin believed she was some petty thief. And almost murdered her in that line of thought. Then he thought she was some repo guy impersonating a teenage girl. And now he concluded she was a Plumber?

She wanted to be proud that she was mistaken for a Plumber, but that meant Kevin wouldn’t give up the package to her. She was getting tired of running, punching, scheming, and plotting just to get him to listen to her.

Regret was too small a word now to cover what she felt about picking up this mission.

“I am not a Plumber,” she said and sighed.

“You are not?” he turned back to her with a puzzled expression.

“No. I’m Ben’s cousin. Gwen Tennyson,” she wearily introduced herself.

Gwen wished to collapse like a dying star and abandon the world for a while. When she asked for adventure, it didn’t include stupid back and forth with jerks like him.

She understood why Michael, Cooper or Ben wouldn’t actually take up this job. Kevin might be a delight to look at from a distance, but dealing with him required an unpleasant training manual.

“You’re a civilian?" he inquired further.

“Yes,” she answered dryly.

“They sent a fucking civilian to pick this up?” he yelled again, making her head throb in discomfort.

“Would you stop yelling!” she shouted back at him.

Kevin looked with an almost sorry expression on his face. But of course, he didn’t say it.

“I asked them to arrange for a repo guy. Not to send a nobody to save a few bucks.”

“A nobody?” she glared at him.

If she were a hand grenade, Kevin just pulled out the damn pin.

“Look. Go home. And tell them to send a—”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me!” she said, throwing the blaster at him.

He leapt back and saw the blaster hit the ground in pieces. A nozzle bounced out from one of the attachments and shot out the loaded charge, almost missing the door of his car.

Kevin’s face was stuck in an expression of absolute horror, which recoiled back into anger—

“You broke my blaster! You almost shot my car! Do you know—” he shouted again, both hands on his head.

“Shut up!” she yelled back and marched forward to close the distance between them, and looked up at him.

Kevin’s ruggedly handsome face was covered in shadow. He smelled like a mixture of sweat and some strange, enticing minty umami fragrance.

His eyes went wide with bewilderment. She pressed a finger on his chest. And their breaths almost collided with each other.

On the surface, Gwen was furious at him for causing her so much trouble. Chasing her around murderously. For calling her a ‘nobody’. But deep inside her, she wished they had met under different circumstances. But as reality would have it, she was still pleased to be this close to him physically. Reasonable or not.

Kevin’s mouth hung dry as he stared at her silently.

“I-am-not-a-nobody. Got it?” she asked in a low and heavy tone. Kevin gulped without giving her an answer.

“My name is Gwen Tennyson,” she continued, digging her finger further into his chest. “Granddaughter of Max Tennyson, one of the greatest Plumbers in this galaxy. I might not have an Omnitrix like my cousin or superpowers like you and Michael—that doesn’t mean I can’t kick ass when it’s needed. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, still not daring to move.

“Now give me that package so I can be on my way to deliver it and finish my first mission as promised.”

“I—can't,” he said and moved back carefully.

“Why not?”

“Just—go back. Please. And tell Morningstar to send a professional this time,” he said. “No offence,” he added quickly.

Gwen moved closer to him again, making him flinch. Even in the shadows, he was a vision to take in. She wanted to touch him and explore every edge of his face. Reach for his lips or just get lost in his eyes. Or even his scent.

Thus, she just needed a motive and an excuse to keep being near him for as long as she could.

“Why can’t you hand me over that package, Kevin?” she asked with her eyes narrowed.

Kevin opened his mouth to answer, but she heard no words coming out of it.

“Kevin,” she said with a threatening voice.

“That package has a bio-signature lock which would trigger active a tracker if any Tennyson-DNA touched it.” He recited it in a single breath.

“What tracker?”

“This package was sent through a backdoor channel so it could reach Tennyson—your cousin, discreetly,” he said and turned away. “But the Highbreeds already had full control of the black market ports on Earth. So they intercepted it before it could reach any safe couriers. And they put trackers over every single package to trace any foul play.”

Gwen looked down, stepping away from him, being weighed by the severity of this information.

“I got my hands on it and disabled the tracker temporarily, but the bio-signature lock interferes with the tracker’s mechanism. So the moment you Tennysons open it, the tracker’s active again. And it would transmit all the data inside it.” He completed.

One of the qualities Gwen’s teachers adored her for was her innate curiosity. Even in the face of adversity. Thus, these crumbs of new information from Kevin only deepened her thirst to know more. Ben and Michael might be able to operate in the dark, but to her, lack of information was like losing one of her senses.

“Who sent this package out? And how did you get your hands on it? Why are you even helping the Plumbers?”

“Whoa. I did not sign up for an interrogation,” he flashed his annoyance. Although she could clearly tell he was making a pretence to be evasive.

“You tried to kill me for nothing. The least you can do is answer my questions.” She crossed her arms.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were here for that package, alright. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have your number,” she said sheepishly, trying not to feel embarrassed. She lazily stepped back further in an attempt to prevent being scrutinised up close. But Kevin was already judging her.

Gwen avoided his gaze and focused on the outside. The sky was peachy, streaks of white spread across it, and darkness was soon set to take over. Unfortunately, that meant she needed to end this soon.

“Why did even Cooper and Morningstar send you?” he asked. Gwen shifted her eyes back to his face and kept mum for the next few seconds. He was beginning to look like a sharp silhouette in the fading light.

“How about you tell me everything you know about the package. And I’ll consider telling you about my motives,” she said finally.

Kevin smiled at her, making her feel fuzzy. Gwen knew she hit the right spot. What better way to engage a dealer than to offer him something a little unfair? And she hoped he’d let her have a little fun by not backing down from a contest of negotiations.

“I’ll tell you who sent the package and you’ll tell me why you’re here.”

“You’ll tell me who sent this package and why. And why are you involved in all this? And then I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

Kevin studied her with what looked like the centroid of scrutiny, amazement and suspicion. Beads of sweat started forming again in the line of Gwen’s neck, out of tension and heat.

“You say you’re a civilian, but you fight like a Plumber and talk like a dealer.” he took a few steps closer to her. “My scanner tells me you’re not even a human. Who the fuck are you, Gwen Tennyson?” 

All those dead butterflies rose up from their graves and scattered all across Gwen’s chest, fluttering around in effect to Kevin’s dangerous proximity. Gwen could swear she now heard his steady breaths. If she waltzed ahead into his lead, maybe she’ll be able to hear his heartbeats too. She could sure feel her own, going rapid each second.

And whatever that fragrance was, it was one hell of an aphrodisiac to her.

She wanted to bite her lip to pull in all the feelings rising inside her like a smoke, but she also had to answer to the speculation he laid thick on her.

She tilted her head and dropped all and any expressions from her eyes, looking at him straight.

“You want to get to know me? Ask me out on a date if we ever meet next time. Now answer my questions and help me figure out how I can get it delivered to my cousin,” she said and stepped back again in an attempt to keep holding onto the last shreds of control she had on herself.

Kevin leaned back lazily on the window of his car and crossed his arms. He looked outside as if he were stalling her. Gwen tapped her shoes loudly, calling his attention back to her.

“It was sent by your Grandpa—Max,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

His words dropped like hot boulders on her. She wanted to ask him to repeat himself. The disbelief was starting to gnaw at her from inside.

Grandpa Max sent this package? 

Grandpa Max?

He had been missing since the start of this whole Highbreed mess for ‘investigation’ purposes, according to his last and only message to Ben. Not a sliver of contact had been made by him. There was no confirmation that he was even alive, or they were just riding on the hopes of his ghost.

What predicament was he in that reaching out to his grandkids directly proved so tumultuous? What level of danger prevented him from even walking into Ben’s protection?

Or maybe he believed he was protecting them.

He wasn’t concerned about his own safety. He was carrying the burden of not becoming a ‘liability’ or trap for them.

If he came out, the Highbreeds would chase him to the ends of the earth, and Ben would burn the world before he’d sacrifice Grandpa. Thus, he needed to stay in the shadows for as long as possible to relieve Ben. And have him focus on the primary mission: wiping out the DNAliens and other Highbreed operations.

So whatever was in the package couldn’t have been sent through official channels since everything would have been as obvious as the sun hanging in the sky. 

The Plumbers were not much help either. Ben told her that Magister Ghalil reluctantly allowed him and Michael to investigate their and Max’s claims against the Highbreeds, but he refused to provide official aid without evidence. Which still wasn’t concrete.

Even so, it didn’t make any sense as to why he would risk sending it through backwater channels if the ports were already overtaken by the Highbreeds. Grandpa would definitely be aware of it and comprehend the risks.

Then why?

“Unless—” Gwen muttered to herself, “it’s a trap designed to lure out the Highbreeds in front of the Plumbers.”

“What?” 

“It makes sense. Ben has no backing from the Plumbers because there’s no hard evidence of the conspiracy Grandpa claims to be run by the Highbreeds. Every time they tried to bust something, the Highbreeds shifted their operations and erased all their records electronically due to Earth’s low-level technology.

“Grandpa must’ve sent over this package with a trail intentionally to draw them out. As a spectacle for the Plumbers. And to secure the Plumber's backing for Earth.

“What I don’t get is, where do you come in between all of this?”

Gwen placed her hand on her hips, eyeing him suspiciously.

“You sure you are not a Plumber?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t change the subject. How did you get your hands on this? Why did you disable the tracker, and why are you helping out the Plumbers, being a black market dealer?”

“Jesus, Gwen! One question at a time,” he yelled, standing up from the car.

“What is your deal, Kevin?” she asked him.

“My deal is to go by my business peacefully without having the cops shove their noses in it.​

“I’m not a cop.”

“You’re working for them.”

“So are you,” said Gwen, frustration lining her words audibly.

“Why don’t you ask Morningstar? Or Cooper? They’ll know what to tell you.”

If anything, the one truth that was clear as daylight was that Kevin was only enticing until he was made to talk. Although he couldn’t be faulted entirely, thanks to the nature of his profession—very predictably, opening up was his weakest virtue.

Kevin bent down and started picking up the pieces of the fragmented blaster from the ground.

“I should’ve thrown that blaster on your head,” Gwen commented.

“Nah, you like my face too much to do that,” he said smugly without sparing her a look. 

Gwen froze, blushing inside the dark shed, which was a relief since Kevin won’t be able to see her flushed. He knew how she felt about him?

Did he read her mind? Or were her poker-face skills that bad?

Maybe he said it to get a rise out of her. Typical.

“Fine. Don’t tell me your ‘trade secrets’. At least help me figure out how I can get the package to Ben,” she said, seeing him pick out and fold a rag from a nearby tire and using it to pick up the nozzle.

“There is nothing to figure out. Send a repo guy. Pay him. And you’ll receive it—” 

“I am not going back without the package. I can’t.” Gwen interrupted him.

He stood up and quietly began assembling the pieces back into a working weapon. Not a single word came into existence for the next few minutes. The quietness was becoming uncomfortable to bear now.

“Kevin, you have to help me out,” she pleaded as a last resort. “Please.​

He finished assembling the blaster and turned to her.

“And why is that?” he asked.

“I’ll pay you up. Not now—” She shrugged, “because I don’t have anything. But I will soon. I promise.” She tried to bargain.

He started laughing as he walked past her and opened the door to his car. Irritation swelled up inside Gwen as she watched him go by.

“What will you even pay me with? Pocket money?” he said and continued laughing.

Gwen was regretting not shooting him when she had the chance. Pretty faces didn’t make annoying personalities hate-immune for too long.

After strapping the blaster to the back of the passenger seat and pulling up the cover, he shut the door and walked past her again.

“Why do you have to be such a jerk?” she asked furiously.

“I’m being realistic,” he said.

Kevin flicked his fingers, producing a spark. Which projectiled with a sparkly trail and a cackle, into a nearby lamp hanging from the wall beside them. The lamp emitted a soft buttery light, flooding the shed with a subtle golden glow. Every object inside was then blanketed in a yellowish illumination.

The car now appeared a bright grassy green colour instead of the darkish shade it was originally. Their reflections became visible on the car’s window, against the pitch-black interior.

She watched this whole spectacle like a kid in the circus for the first time. Completely awed. And desperate to see him do it again. The urge to ask him to explain his abilities now was almost irresistible. Yet, she refrained.

“You need to be helpful,” she said to him.

“Okay, Gwen,” he said with a sugary smile. “How may I be of service? Do you want me to drive you to your cousin with the package?” he asked, ridicule packed in his voice.

“Why didn’t you do it in the first place anyway?” she asked, ignoring his mockery.

“Because I don’t want to risk being seen running errands for the Plumbers. I—” he said, pointing to himself. “—have a reputation to uphold.”

Gwen scoffed. She knew he was pulling nonsense out of his pocket to avoid telling her the truth.​

“You know, I have seen toddlers lie better than you,” she mocked him.

Annoyance set forth on his face, and Gwen knew her job was done. It was common knowledge to her now that provoking him was child’s play.

“I’m not lying,” he said.

Gwen leaned back on his car and gave him her best I-know-you-are-kidding look.

“Do you know what these highbreeds do if they suspect any of the black market workers or traders are moles?” he asked her.

Gwen kept staring at him quietly for an answer.

“They use their xenocites and turn them into one of those disgusting DNAliens to serve them permanently.”

“Xenocites—” Gwen whispered.

“Filthy alien leeches—”

“I know what those are. Ben and Michael blew up a few of their trucks some time ago,” she told him.

So Michael was right about him. Kevin was really just protecting himself here. There’s no double-take on this. Then why become a mole in the first place? His actions made no sense in the position he presented himself in. 

She knew it was futile to ask him those questions. And she didn’t have much time to go on a journey of ‘Kevin discovery’.

“I came here to prove something,” she told him.

Gwen was standing there on her last leg, and she couldn’t be any more desperate. Yes, Kevin had proved multiple times in that short span of time what a huge ass he was—but something inside her urged her to trust him and gamble her secrets—hopefully to win his help in exchange.

“Prove what?” Kevin asked, and Gwen could see the sprouting interest in his eyes.​

“That I’m every bit as capable as Ben and Miachael. Powers or not. So they’d let me fight too. If I return empty-handed, I’ll fail my only chance I begged so hard for.” She stopped leaning on his car and stood upright.

“Why—”

“I know it has nothing to do with you. You don’t care about any of this. But this one time—please—I’m begging you, to give me a chance and help me out. I will pay you back. Trust me,” she pleaded and stepped closer to him again.

“I was asking—why don’t they let you fight?”​

Gwen was pleasantly surprised by that question. She rather expected him to just dismiss her without a care in the world.

“Oh—well. Ben thinks I’ll be a liability.”

“Of course he does. He thinks he has a magic watch, and now he’s the only hero around here. Typical.”

Gwen felt tugged by his response. On one hand, she wanted to defend Ben, for he really wasn’t what Kevin proclaimed. But on the other hand, she was still pissed at him. Thus, she decided to redirect the dialogue back to herself.

“Grandpa didn’t have any powers. And he brought down Vilgax when he was young. I’d like to think I can do something to make a difference in this war.”

“You can do a lot more.”

Gwen blinked a few times and stood still. Kevin believed that she had what it took to contribute significantly in a planetary war. 

Kevin—a stranger, who knew nothing about her. Yet, he thought she was valuable. 

Why the fuck wasn’t Ben there to listen to that?

“You—really think that?” She sought confirmation.

“I saw that. With a little more training, you’ll be dandy. To hell with Tennyson thinking you’re a liability. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

Now she wished even harder for Ben’s presence. 

Her arms were tingling to spread open and engulf Kevin in a hug. She really wanted to embrace someone out of happiness right then. She knew riding high on someone’s validation like that was a blaring indicator of the low self-esteem she had been having lately—but until the time her confidence hit the same high, she took it.

Another piece of thought that trailed in just behind was her amazement at Kevin’s ability to be so sincere and a jerk altogether. It was like a constant taste of sugar and spice for her.

“Thanks, Kevin. You’re the second person now to believe in me this much.”

He looked questioningly at her on this statement.

“Well, the first person was Michael. He’s the one who convinced Ben to let me come here for the pick up.”

Kevin gave out a chuckle the moment she finished the sentence.

“What?” she glared at him.

“He didn’t convince Tennyson to send you here ‘cause he ‘believed in you.’” Kevin curled his fingers, highlighting the last three words. “He sent you here ‘cause he wanted to save some bucks by not having to hire a repo guy as I asked them to. Multiple times.”

This revelation hit her like a brick in the face.​

Just about when she had decided to wave the white flag of surrender to her inner conflicts over Michael, Kevin dropped a whole new bomb, changing the tide of the war.

That pacific tone of voice, always carrying the beacon of adoration for her, was indeed just a facade. His attention to detail with respect to her was just an instrument for his own serving.​

How skillfully he made a fool and tool out of her. He crossed Ben merely to save some money? Which he had so much of, that the whole town wowed about it. Maybe that, too, was just a grand fucking scheme of lies.

Or.

Or maybe Kevin was lying. No, just mistaken. 

Maybe Michael was about to arrange someone when Gwen happened to stumble upon this opportunity. She shouldn't let confirmation bias stain Michael's image black again. 

“No—”

“Yes. He is one cheapass, showoff fucker. Have you seen his car?” Kevin asked.

And there it was. The second row of validation from him.

“It looks like a monkey ate all the golden paint it could find and got diarrhoea on that thing. All junk from the inside. I wouldn’t get enough to buy a charger for my blaster if I go and sell that shit out.”

Kevin sharing that disgust for Michael's car with her soothed the shock he had given her earlier. But it wasn't nearly enough to make it disappear. She wasn’t sure whether she was just furious, disappointed, or even happy that her predictions hit the mark. At least now she could gloat in front of Emily for being right.

Her face was now devoid of any happy cells. She frowned, thinking further and further about Michael. 

“What? He’s your boyfriend or something?” he suddenly asked, not too amused.

“Whoa!” Gwen exclaimed in offence.

She saw him trying to gauge her reaction further. Why did he even care?

“He is not my boyfriend. I don’t even have a boyfriend,” she said, and immediately wondered why she said that last part out.

“Oh—kay.” he looked somewhat complacent.

“He was just so nice to me—asking me out to the school dance. But I always knew there was something wrong in there,” she ranted out.

“Who cares? School dances are lame,” he chuckled.

“I do.” Her eyes narrowed. “And how do you know it’s lame when you’ve never been to one?”

“How do you know I’ve never been to one?”

“Have you?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.”​

Kevin turned around and walked to the edge of his shed. He stood there and looked back at her halfway.

“Now leave. It’s getting dark. And this is not a nice place to be for girls like you.”

The audacity. 

It felt like it was almost a sport for him now to get on her nerves. She walked ahead and stopped right behind him, crossing her arms.

“Girls like what Kevin?” Gwen asked sternly. 

He turned back to face her.

“You know? Nice girls—who—who,” he tried catching onto words like pearls scattered in the dark.

Gwen shook her head whilst glaring at him.

“One of these days, take that thing out of your head and give it an acid wash,” she said, poking his head a few times.

“Leave,” he said, knocking her hand away.

She caught his hand mid-air and said—

“Not until we figure out how to get the package delivered.” 

He pulled his hand away from her feeble grasp.

“We? There is no ‘we’ here.” He said and turned ninety degrees away from her. “And don’t you have a curfew or something?”

He was right. She did have a curfew. But there was no way she was leaving the package behind. Although Gwen could see that Kevin was getting really antsy now to get rid of her.

“I do. In fact, I’ll tell my parents exactly where I am and with whom so they can come pick me up.”

Kevin let out a scowl and turned back, bringing his face near to hers.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

A lot of things, Gwen thought. She didn't have the liberty to ask him, though. But what if she could have? Would he oblige? Probably not. 

Hence, she stuck to the one thing that mattered the most presently.

“Help me deliver this package to Ben. I’ll owe you. Please Kevin. I’m literally begging here,” she said with doe eyes.

He turned away from her, scowling again.

“Come on. Please. Don’t say no.”

She joined her hands, fingers intertwined.

He let out a loud sigh dramatically.

“Fine. But remember, if I get turned into one of those ugly ass DNAliens—I’ll personally come to hunt you down. And Tennyson. And Morningstar,” he said without looking at her.

Her urge to hug him returned stronger. She wanted to jump in delight and scream. She didn't, as she knew Kevin would yell and shut her up.

And she didn't want to cause any disturbance to this harmony she had just reached with him.

“Deal,” she offered her right hand for a shake, grinning ear to ear. 

Kevin pretended to be unamused as he looked at her stupid grin. He then saw her hand still waiting for him and hesitantly held it in a shake. Gwen tried to clasp her fingers tightly around his firm hand, but she could barely wrap them around. Her hand was almost completely encased in his. 

Only if time had slowed down to a freeze. Or if she could’ve brought her other hand around it, too. She even wanted to position her hand now in a way she could interlace her fingers with him. 

Wishful thinking. 

Letting go was going to be hard for her. His hand. Him. Both.

Gwen's arm then surged with a warmth that ran from her shoulder to the palm that was in Kevin's grasp. She felt that warmth being pulled into her fingers with all might. Her fingertips had just started tingling when Kevin abruptly dropped her hand.

Before she could comprehend or ask what happened, he swiftly opened the door to the driver's seat of his car and went in.

“Come on, I haven't got all night,” he said from inside.

“Wait. What about the package?” She asked, catching the door before he could close it.

“It's in the trunk. Now get in.” He pulled his door close.

It seemed the day still hadn't got over giving out a series of surprises one after the other to her. That whole time she was hiding in there, the package was right behind her?

If she could’ve ignored the tracker thing for a moment, she only needed to pop open the trunk to find what she came for. She was starting to get a headache from this much irritation.

Gwen crossed to the other side and opened the door, peering in. 

It was just beautifully as green from the inside as the outside. Cool and dark like the forest. Like her own eyes. And while the reasons stayed concealed, it was obvious Kevin would even paint his soul green if he could.

Is that why he'd look at her again and again? Or was she just imagining it all?

Anyway, it was evident how spectacularly his car was modified. Arrays of unfamiliar tech, with reds and more greens, lined the centre panel and the display behind the brown steering wheel, with a series of buttons in the middle.

Although the dashboard lacked any personal details. No stupid bobbing head figurines. Nothing personally identifiable. Only people who were explicitly aware of his ownership of the car could tell it was his from the inside.

The green and black leather seats were a character in themselves. The whole interior felt vintage yet futuristic at the same time. Aesthetically clean but not empty. Rather cleverly enticing. 

All in all, pretty magnificent inside out.

She got curious about how it would feel revving under her feet. Slicing through the wind on straight, empty roads. As the adrenaline would seep into her body, she’d clutch the steering wheel tighter, move the gear forward and press the gas pedal to maximum. Without consequences. 

Unfortunately, she was sure Kevin wouldn't let her touch anything. Especially when she had threatened to harm it a while ago. Her quota for begging to get something from him was full for today. Or maybe for the entire month.

As she went in, she experienced a very typical car scent which she could’ve described as the notes of synthetic florals, metal and leather.

She wondered again what all of that tech did. All of it must be from some extraterrestrial source. Of course. Kevin must be picking up the best stuff for himself before selling or brokering it out.

And although she didn't nerd out for cars in particular, she wanted to hear him talk endlessly about the one she was sitting in. Maybe someday. Maybe not.

It was easy to forget again, in all the chaos, that Kevin wasn't her regular high school crush, meandering in the school corridors. He was a black market tech dealer. Technically, a criminal. Temporarily useful to the Plumbers.

Fuck. She didn't even know how old he was. 

She closed the car door and settled in, pulling out the seatbelt, then glanced at Kevin.

He looked boyish enough to assume that he was not much older than she was. But looks can deceive. Was he really even a human? Maybe he was adamant on believing that she wasn’t one because he wasn’t one himself either.

And what difference would that make for her? She wouldn't be the first one to want an affair with some alien. Grandpa Max looked pretty content kissing his old alien girlfriend, Xylene, back then.

As the car roared into life, Gwen was shaken out of her brazen thoughts.

She couldn't believe the train of thought she was riding on. Just yesterday, she was planning for college and focused on becoming a hero. And here she was, busy fantasising about having a love story with some criminal bloke who tried to kill her on their first meeting.

But what about when she becomes a Plumber, and the war is done for? And then she gets accepted into college? Would it be right then to prioritise her misplaced desires?

She crossed her arms and scowled as he drove out of the shed. She saw Kevin pushing a button under the centre panel screen through her peripheral vision. What followed was a heavy metal clacking noise from behind the car.

She looked back to see the shutter to the shed going down and the lights being out. 

Soon, they were out on the road where her bus had halted during the day. The lights from his car illuminated the immediate path ahead of them, while the rest of the surroundings remained curtained in darkness.

She stretched her legs out and attempted to become more comfortable. And to get distracted from all the feelings of desolation sinking within her. 

Her day was no closer to being a fairytale, but it was a story worth staying up and reminiscing for a lot of nights. And she was just not ready to have it reach an end. It was just like the day Grandpa finally dropped her off at home after the summer trip.

She missed that dingy toilet, cramped bed, her doofus cousin and Grandpa Max. Despite having everything to her liking right at her home. Luxury didn't replace the companionship she found in them.

Is that what it was about? Was she afraid she'll be all alone when Kevin drops her off with the package?

But Ben's going to be there. So would Michael. And of course, she had her best friend, Emily.

Then what was it about him which made her so sorrowful to leave behind?

“You alright?” she heard him ask.

“Huh?” 

“You look like someone just died.” He said, looking at her momentarily before focusing back on the road.

“I guess,” she looked out of the window and rested her chin on her hand.

The utter state of solid darkness began melting around the car as they drove further. City lights began seeping into the surroundings. She could see the silhouettes of the buildings now blocking the view of the night sky. She didn’t recognise the route they were on, but she felt too tired to care. She chose to rely on her somewhat newfound trust in Kevin to safely take her to Ben.

The buildings around them were now in closer proximity, and a number of alleys passed by them. It wasn’t an area Gwen frequented. It was clearly that part of the town where even her own parents would think twice before stepping in.

Made sense why Kevin would drive in here. Maybe he lived somewhere around here only, if not that shed. Not like he’d tell her.

“Oh hell,” 

Gwen straightened up and looked at Kevin, who was frowning, looking ahead. She followed his line of sight to see a few figures of cops standing on the roadside, a little far from their position. A regular white police car was parked behind them with the lights on.

From Kevin’s annoyance, it was clear they meant trouble. She hoped it was some stupid ticket violation thing rather than something serious.

As they crept nearer, her head slowly bubbled with muffled whispers she knew she didn't hear out loud, but that definitely came from somewhere. She focused harder on the cops’ figures, and the whispers got louder. She felt her temples being pressed from both sides and put her hands on them.

“There's something wrong,” she spoke out before she even decided to say it. Her eyes shut close, but no vision came in. The whispers only grew louder but remained indecipherable.

“What?”

“Those cops. Something's wrong with them,” she spoke almost in a trance.

Kevin pulled back the gearstick and slowed the car to almost a crawl.

“What do you mean?” he asked, concerned. 

She opened her eyes again to see the now closer figure of the cops. And realised the gibberish in her head had got louder. After staring at them for a few more seconds, she tore her eyes off the road and looked at Kevin.

“I can't explain. I just have this instinct thing. I can sometimes feel certain things about people which others can’t see. Involuntarily,” she said, still trying to find better words to elaborate further.

Kevin stared at her wordlessly for a second and bent down, reaching in front of her. He slid his hand under the glove compartment, and Gwen heard a tap. He got up and drove the gear up, pushing the gas pedal, which sped up the car.

In less than a minute, they were halted in front of them. Kevin pulled down his window in response to the knock on it. A tan-skinned, egg-shaped face with soulless eyes peered in.

Gwen’s brain could have split out with the amount of unnatural disturbances overflowing inside it. She wanted to hold her head in her lap and scream out, but she had to act cool so this could’ve passed on without any trouble.

“Any problem, officer?” Kevin asked with a grin plastered to his face.