Star-Lord, page 12
part #1 of Marvel Wastelanders Series
A sudden cut away from the commentator introduced the sounds of a loud, boisterous crowd cheering loudly. Quill and Rocket could make out the chant, “Kraven! Kraven!” They exchanged worried glances.
Cora spoke up. “Should I keep playing?”
Quill nodded. He both did and didn’t want to hear what happened next. As he listened to the commentary, he became so engrossed in what he was hearing that he could picture what it was like to be right there…
The voice of Brandon Best continued. “That’s right, folks. The sharks out there are in a frenzy because there’s blood in the water. I’ve got a report here from Lord Doom which informs me that today’s contender is a member of the underground terrorist organization calling itself the Second Dawn.”
“Contender?” Rocket snorted. “Cute.”
“You heard that right. How disappointing, folks. How disgusting that these hostiles and agitators have no appreciation for what we have here in the Victorlands. We have protection. We have purpose. We have Doom!”
Another cutaway to the crowd, who screamed Doom’s name over and over. It was reckless insanity and it made the hair on Quill’s neck stand on end.
“On that note, folks, if you suspect anyone in our community, please, please don’t hesitate to report them to your nearest Doombot. Do they keep odd hours? Do they complain about their job? Have you ever heard them use the slur ‘the Wastelands’ to describe our beautiful home? Then those are some clear indicators that they may not be on your side.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” said Quill, his face white.
Rocket shook his head. “Believe it, Quill. It’s happening.”
“It’s a shame that some people don’t appreciate what we’ve got and correct me if I’m wrong, folks, but we’ve got a lot! We’re blessed beyond measure with what we’ve got here. We’re spared the lawlessness and violence and poverty and hunger others experience and all because one man stood up in a time of chaos and need. He takes care of us. Because Doom provides. Remember that. Doom provides.”
“I’m not sure I can listen anymore.” Quill leaned back in the saddle staring up at the sky. At this hour, it was blue and cloudless. Perfect, were it not for the knowledge that the background radiation was slowly killing everything beneath it. He felt sick, not just from the stench of the corpses and all that implied, but from the words of the commentator. His own world. Reduced to this nightmare.
“Shall I stop, Star-Lord?” Cora paused the transmission.
Quill took a breath and shook his head. “Invested, now,” he murmured. “Keep playing.” He’d probably regret saying that, but he had to know the extent of it. Rocket rubbed at his horse’s neck, as grim as Quill had ever seen him.
“Very well,” said Cora and she resumed, uninterrupted.
•••
Beyond the studio walls, the crowd were chanting and shouting. “Deer on a spear! Deer on a spear!” The four syllables were picked up and overlapped, creating aural chaos until Brandon Best’s voice cut through them once more.
“The people have spoken! Now. Earlier today, I was able to get a few words from the living spear. The most accomplished predator the world has ever known. Kraven the Hunter!”
The cheers were explosive and the horses started, their nervousness shifting into brief terror. The three riders were able to calm them enough to pick up the narrative once again.
“I visited him at his home where I was surrounded by skin rugs. There were mounted horns and taxidermized carcasses on every wall and surface. The full interview airs tonight, but for now, a taster of this brief, cozy fireside chat.”
The tone of the broadcast changed. The overlapping roar of the crowd faded out, replaced by a warmer ambience with the crackle and pop of a fire in the background. It was oddly intimate, given the subject matter.
“Tell us, Kraven.” Best inserted himself into the scene. “How do you feel about today’s installment of Deer on a Spear? Is it a fight for justice? To punish the terrorists who live among us? To showcase your undying loyalty to Lord Doom?”
A few moments passed before a slow, well-measured and heavily accented voice responded. It was deep and without warmth or any hint of empathy or emotion whatsoever and no effort was made to respond to Best’s question.
“This morning, I walked through the forest, and I happened upon a dead man. His face was purple. Blotched and swollen. His veins were black. Vomit coated his cheek. He had been poisoned. On closer examination, I saw the fat of his arm had been gnawed right to the bone. I crouched down to observe the killer, hiding nearby.”
Another pause.
“It was a spider scorpion the size of a dog. It, like me, was crouched – but in the shadow of a bush, waiting for me to pass by so that it could continue what it had started. But understand this. There is no predator greater than man. This creature had bested its superior opponent only through trickery. By hiding and only darting out at an opportune moment to sting its enemy. The coward’s way. Well, I drew my knife…”
There was the distinct scrape of a knife being drawn from a sheath. It may only have been audio, but the sound made Quill’s skin crawl without even knowing why. Just the very sound of this apex killer unsheathing his weapon was enough to make him want to go spend another three minutes urinating from a ledge.
“I drew my knife and considered my enemy. I did not want to kill the spider scorpion, you understand. I wished only to maim it. I moved too fast for it to avoid me, and the knife severed its tail. Milky ooze dribbled from the wound. It had no escape. I took the spider scorpion, took its mewling, squirming body and I carried it over a mile away to a location where I’d previously noted a chest-high pile of fire ants.”
“Sheesh, this guy,” muttered Rocket.
“I kicked the dust to stir their rage. Then, right before I dropped the spider scorpion into the swarm, I plucked off each of its legs. Its demise was a beautiful thing.”
Quill held his breath, caught up by the passionless horror. Kraven continued, finishing his tale.
“In the face of the dead man, I saw the cold indifference of an uncaring universe. In the swarm of fire ants, I saw that there is no natural justice in this world beyond that which we reap.”
Silence descended. Even the horses stilled, magnifying the tension as Kraven’s words faded. Once more, the background of the screaming crowd swam back into the audio landscape and Best spoke, his tone appropriately somber.
“Let those words sink in, folks. It was like poetry, wasn’t it?” He allowed a suitable length of time for the question to linger, before adjusting his tone back to the cheery and enthused sounds of the sports commentator. “Now, we all know that Kraven the Hunter is unstoppable, but nobody likes a blow-out, am I right? That’s why today’s match-up is especially exciting! Now. You might know Sebastian Warn as a local hunter and trapper, but guess what, folks? It recently came to light that he’s nothing more than one of those terrorists. A part of that Second Dawn organization. Now that’s the bad news. But the good news is that this should be a great match. Warn weighs in at one hundred ninety pounds against Kraven’s two-fifty – but Warn has spilled his own share of blood and knows how to navigate these hills.”
Rocket and Quill shared another alarmed glance as they heard the name, but neither spoke. The commentary continued.
“From the time Kraven sounds his horn… let me check the stats here. Kill time is an average of ten minutes and fifteen seconds. If I was a gambling man – and I know plenty of you out there like a wager – then I’d bet you could bump that by a good five minutes today. Let’s move into the thick of it now, folks. As is our custom on Deer on a Spear, Warn got a thirty minute head start with the option to select a weapon from the usual choices of a knife, a dagger, a sword, an ax, a bow and arrow, or a crossbow. He went with the crossbow, with one bolt locked and loaded, and set off at a full sprint into the southern hills.”
“Isn’t that where…”
“Shh.”
“Our drones are with him and have been with him the whole time. He’s made it a full mile into some pretty rough territory, but now…”
A distant sound came, something like an airhorn, but with a lupine undertone. The sound echoed moments later from Cora’s speaker. “I don’t know about you, folks, but whenever I hear that horn, I get chills of excitement. He’s off, folks! Kraven the Hunter has sounded his hunting horn and the hunt is on! Warn is sprinting – huffing and puffing for breath as he runs into the woods…”
“Enough,” said Quill.
Cora shut off the broadcast and for a moment the only sounds were those of the horses and the buzzing flies. Quill swallowed slowly and the noise seemed to reverberate around the clearing.
“He’s coming,” said Rocket.
“Rocket,” said Quill, his throat dry. “Kraven is going after Sebastian Warn.”
“Yeah, ain’t nothing wrong with my hearing. Come on, Quill. We’ve gotta get out of here.”
“Sebastian Warn,” said Quill with a hint of panic in his tone. “That’s our contact. Our chance to find the Black Vortex.”
Rocket grabbed his arm. “Listen to me. You’re a wanted man and right now you’re wandering through a garden of corpses. You want to run right into the arms of the enemy, Quill? It’s not just Kraven out there, man! It’s the drones.”
“My helmet,” said Quill, as though experiencing a sudden revelation. Rocket’s eyes narrowed as Quill reached up to deploy the implant helmet behind his ear. His words became immediately muffled. “Should’ve done this soon as I smelled the blood. Anyway. My helmet, Rocket. With this on, they won’t recognize me. Won’t know who I am.”
“They won’t need to know who you are, Quill. If you get in the way of this hunt, Kraven’s gonna gut you. You know. For sport.”
“It’ll be fine. I’ve got my six-shooters.” He unholstered the twin weapons that had been gifted to him by Red Crotter and thumbed back the hammers. “I’ve got my booster boots.”
“Oh. Oh, no.”
There was a sudden sputtering, like an engine trying to fire when it was long out of gas. It choked and spluttered for a few moments more.
“What do your booster boots do, Star-Lord?” Cora was curious.
“What it says on the tin, baby! They boost!”
“No, Quill. They boost-ed. Past tense. They barely work now! They’re too old. Like the idiot wearing them!” The sputtering became a wheeze and then finally, there was ignition. His face was hidden beneath the helmet, but Rocket could absolutely sense that Quill had a dumb grin plastered to it as he slowly began rising from the saddle. “Quill,” he said, his tone commanding. “Quill, get back here, now.”
He sounded like an irritated parent chastising a child.
“Look, man.” Rocket tried reason. “The last time you used those things, you ended up with a concussion and a broken arm. Come on, get ’em off. Here, I’ll get them off you. Quill. Come back down here and let me… Quill!”
“I’ve got this,” came the defiant reply. “Guardians, go!”
With a roar, the booster boots shot Quill skywards, leaving Rocket and Cora in his wake. Rocket clenched his fists furiously.
“That is not our catchphrase!”
•••
“Folks, welcome back!” Brandon Best was fully into the swing of the show, caught up in the drama of the hunt and delivering lurid descriptions to the eager, listening populace. He’d been doing this job for years now and he was good at it. He had to be good at it, so it was probably for the best that the sadistic streak that ran through him supplied the passion in his commentary. “If you’re tuning into our drone footage today, you will no doubt have noted Kraven is barefoot as always. Even with those size fifteen feet, he still moves silently as a whisper. He is, for the benefit of listeners without video feeds – wearing a new loincloth which looks to be sewn from… yes. From elk hide, I’d guess. Very form flattering. Replicas of this design will be available from tomorrow through our storefront. You too can look this good.”
Many things were dead in the Wastelands. Capitalism was not one of them.
“Let’s return to the action. The hunt’s underway, so let’s cross to the drones and catch up with our prey. Our contender.” The slip was brief and he covered it with the practiced ease of decades. “There he is, folks, Sebastian Warn! Running hard but starting to look like the exertion is taking a toll. He’s closing in on the Canyon of Shadows. Now he certainly isn’t the first – and I’m sure he won’t be the last – to try to use this landmark as part of a defensive strategy.”
A clear smile crept into Best’s voice as his commentary continued. “He is climbing now, struggling up a craggy precipice. His fingers continually lose their grip sending rocks tumbling down beneath him. His boots scuff against the cliff face. He is slowing down, but he must keep moving.
“His fingers quest for another handhold and he inches his way upwards. He’s going up the walls of the canyon! Would you look at that? The crossbow’s over his shoulder and he is going for it, ladies and gentlemen! Sebastian Warn is trying to take the higher ground. I imagine it’ll give him a protected vantage to fire down on Kraven.”
The crowd roared.
“I know! It’s a good idea. Maybe even a smart one. But we all know that Kraven never misses his mark. Let’s see where our spear is… yes, there he is!”
Kraven ran with an easy gait through the same woods that Warn had previously traversed. There was no gasping for breath though. The lashing branches didn’t bother him in the slightest. For such a powerfully built man, Kraven was stealthy and near silent. His eyes scanned constantly for signs of Warn’s passing. He smelled the man’s sweat and fear and it gave him a desperate hunger.
“He’s reached the canyon, folks. Where we know Sebastian lies in wait. What’s Kraven going to do?”
What Kraven did was to begin running up the hillside parallel to the canyon. Best screamed with excitement. “I do declare Kraven has predicted Warn’s move and is planning to turn it to his advantage!” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial hush. “He’s approaching the rim of the canyon now. Slowly. Slowly.”
Slowly.
Sebastian Warn was ready for him, swinging the crossbow up and firing with a whipcrack echoing back from the walls of the canyon. The bolt struck its target with a loud, meaty and infinitely satisfying smack.
“I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Kraven’s hit right in the face. He brought up a hand to block it, but it looks like… wait. Wait! What’s this? What? Is? This?”
No.
“No! Kraven’s torn the bolt away!”
There was blood, of course, plenty of it. It streamed down Kraven’s face from the gash on his cheek, but the wound looked superficial.
No.
“Look at that, folks! Kraven’s skill is astonishing. His reflexes so sharp that he caught the bolt. That was a kill shot for sure and Kraven caught it in the nick of time. That, everyone, is why he doesn’t bother with armor and only hunts with his knife. Who needs weapons and armor when you are weapons and armor? He is the ultimate weapon. He… Wait, what’s this? Warn isn’t giving up!”
Sebastian Warn, robbed of his one shot at taking out the relentless hunter, stood, then dropped from the ledge. He hit the ground with a thump, rolling several feet down to the forest floor. He had probably cracked a couple of ribs in the fall, but the adrenaline was coursing now.
He ran, but without purpose. Soon, he was swallowed by the forest.
“The drones struggle down there, folks, so it’s hard for us to keep track of his progress. Kraven’s pacing the rim of the canyon… he’s taking out the hunting knife. He’s aiming it! He’s going to throw it at the contender. Surely such a throw, from such an angle, is impossible? Now he’s running. He’s broken into a sprint.”
The knife flew from Kraven’s hand and seconds later there was a loud, strangled cry somewhere in the shadows. Two drones whirred in closer and, on the screens where the hunt was broadcast, it was apparent that the knife had struck Sebastian Warn in the leg, bringing him down. He dragged himself onwards, despite the injury. He reached down and…
“He’s pulled the knife out! Oh, this is one of the best hunts we’ve had in weeks!” Best was overjoyed at the drama.
“Come and get me, Kraven!” Warn’s bellow sounded clear, only a little breathless. Kraven appeared in shot, prowling like a wild animal on the clifftop above him.
“Looks like Warn is going to get his wish,” said Best as, against all probability, Kraven took a standing jump from at least twenty feet. The cry he emitted was primal and he landed heavily near the fallen Sebastian Warn who looked up at him, then at the drones buzzing in to capture the moment. He directed his comments to them.
“You don’t have to do this. None of you watching or listening… you don’t need to do this! You’re living in a trap! The Second Dawn is coming!”
“It’s always sad, isn’t it?” Best’s voice was low and filled with an entirely fake sorrow. “To see someone meet their end without a hint of repentance.”
“The Second Dawn is coming,” repeated Warn. “You can be a part of it. Just… wake up!”
Kraven approached Warn slowly and deliberately, relishing the moment. He was ready to claim his victory. Every muscle in his body tensed.
There was a spluttering noise.
“The Second Dawn is…”
PuttputtputtPOPputtputt… and punctuating the sound came a long, loud shriek.
“What is this?” Best sat forward in his chair and stared at the drone footage as a speck appeared on the edges. The sound of failing engines and faint screaming became gradually louder. “I… I’m not sure exactly what I’m looking at here, folks, but it looks as though someone is flying towards our combatants…”
One of the boots gave out.
“…very badly. I don’t know what to tell you, folks. But this gatecrasher is out of control! He’s… yes! He’s collided with one of the canyon walls! Ouch, folks, that had to have hurt, but whoever that is refuses to quit. He’s hit the opposite canyon wall…”
