#greenladykiller

Alex stood in the small kitchen of the condo Serval own in NYC and tapped his fingers on the counter, thinking. He was starting to regret ever coming back. Things weren’t going as planned for him. Lorna was still not talking to him and it seemed the stunt Living Eraser had pulled had reaffirmed in her mind that Alex was never going to change. It wasn’t fair. It hadn’t been his fault that some wack job wanted to run tests on him. He hadn’t had control over that. Still, Lorna had refused to listen. 

Truth be told the woman was even less receptive to him than she had been when he first came back, but he wasn’t sure why. It had been like a switch was thrown and suddenly she wasn’t even talking to him. She’d talk through the other members of the team like Danger to talk to him. Alex was getting nowhere fast. He’d asked Remy but the Cajan had been unhelpful. He’d simply suggested that she’d moved on and for him to drop it. Alex wasn’t sure if that meant Remy knew who she was seeing, but as far as Alex could tell there wasn’t anyone. She had no pictures that he could see and the only person he’d ever heard her speak to was Remy though she’d asked him how someone was doing. She’d never given a name, though. Perhaps that was who Remy had referred to. 

She wasn’t there to ask, though. Not that she would have answered. Since his return from Dimension Z, Lorna had flat refused to acknowledge he even existed. He could ask but she’d probably just look right through him. At least, she wasn’t trying to kill him anymore. He figured that was a step in the right direction. 

He grabbed the glass of water he’d poured himself and forgotten about in his musing to take a sip when he heard laughter and stopped. He knew that laugh. He stepped out of the kitchen and headed over to the door deciding to use the peephole to get a good look at who was making Lorna laugh. He hadn’t seen her leave, but as he looked out the viewer and spotted her, he was almost sure she was on a date. Her hair was down and her clothing was much more classy that he’d really seen her in. She tended to just wear her uniform or jeans, but she was in a dress and her hair was down and she was with... Scott? His eyes focused on the man talking to her though he couldn’t tell what was being said and knew without a doubt that it was his older brother that she was with.

Alex grabbed the door knob intent on busting them when a strange tingling sensation filled his body and he was suddenly floating. There was a yelp, that sound strange coming from him and his limbs flailed as he tried to find purchase on something that could hold him down. In the blink of an eye, he was transported from the condo he had been into a holding cell somewhere else. 

Alex landed hard, his back slamming into the cold metal, and groaned loudly. “We got ‘im, boss,” a grungy man Alex was sure had never heard of personal hygiene said. 

“Good, let’s go find Corsair. I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear we have his son in our possession.” The disembodied voice said, causing Alex to start. 

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy,” he said moving quickly to the bars, careful not to touch them. He’d learned that the hard way before. “My father is dead,” he told them for all the good it did. 

Clinging to the wall upside down, Peter tipped his head back watching the heroes scattered below through the lenses of his mask.  The fascination with the alien planet and surroundings outweighed by the dilemma he currently found himself in.  He, like the rest of the beings below had been selected by some alien with incredible powers simply to determine which was stronger; Good, or Evil.  Chosen at random from across the universe, no more than one or two from each quadrant, or so they’d been told to be pitted against villains chosen the same way.  Refuse to fight, or fight and be defeated and you didn’t get to go home.  

None of this sat well with Peter, not that the rest enjoyed the circumstances.  At the same time many of them didn’t seem know what to do but to fight and win.  Supposedly the side that won in the end, everyone would go home.  Yet it left a bad taste in his mouth that both sides wouldn’t be allowed to.  No one deserved to be stranded, or killed, just to satisfy some powerful being’s curiosity, which left him with a dilemma.

He couldn’t not fight, at the same time he couldn’t simply sit and take this situation passively, Peter needed allies.  Most here respected him as a fighter after he won his first few matches, but dismissed him as being from a backward planet, young, inexperienced, or just not up to their standards.  The burning edge of frustration ticked in the back of his brain, but he couldn’t, and wouldn’t stop trying.  Even if trying to get strong willed heroes might resemble trying to herd cats.

So he watched those that moved under him, looking and listening.  Maybe he would see someone familiar. Then he heard it.  A voice he recognized, and one that had been part of one of his earlier group fights.  Dropping down he flipped around so he landed on his feet and headed towards it.  

“Gamora?  Gamora of the Guardians of the Galaxy?”