CH23: John Mulaney Reference

All things considered, Kamala Khan was having a pretty great morning.

Bruno had put aside an extra-large cup of coffee for her, to make up for the late night hero-ing she'd done, Nakia had found herself in a rare good mood and hadn't snarked at her once yet, and the bacon smelt delicious.

"You know guys," she said, sipping her foam cup and smelling the delicious infidel meat. "Sometimes, life is good."

"Well, that's about to end," Bruno said, looking out the glass door. "Here comes everyone's favourite 'concerned citizen'."

Zoe Zimmer walked in, her boyfriend Josh in tow. Zoe and Josh were what one would call the ideal American couple, if they were a racist rich white male. Both blonde, both wealthy, and both oh so concerned about the minorities.

Behind them, there was someone Kamala didn't recognize. Another white boy, he was taller than Josh -which she estimated put him somewhere around six feet something. He had brown hair in an undercut, and blue eyes behind a pair of square glasses. The bags under his eyes were so dark he looked like he'd gotten punched in the face twice.

He was frowning, which put him in contrast to Josh and Zoe's easygoing smiles. There was a scar that went in a half-circle around his left eye, going through his eyebrow, and he generally looked like a punk-rock kid, with his leather jacket.

"Hi, Zoe," Bruno said. "Who's your friend?"

"I'm not with them," the new kid quickly said. "I'm just here for coffee."

He walked away to the coffee machine, and Zoe started to talk about how Bruno should get her her coffee since she was so nice as to tip him and help his economic situation. Bruno tried to explain that's not how it worked in Circle Q, but she just talked over him. Honestly, Kamala would have liked Zoe better if she were a little less thickheaded. She showed concern for people, which was nice, but the way she did it...

"By the way, your headscarf is so nice, Kiki," Zoe said. "I love the color."

"Nakia," Kamala's friend corrected. "And thanks, I guess."

"But, like, you're not being forced to wear that, right? They're not going to honor-kill you or something if you take it off? I'm just concerned."

... it left much to be desired.

Nakia went to say something, but the new kid spoke up. "Can I ask you something?"

They turned to look at him, and he cleared his throat as he walked over to the counter with a bag of gummy worms and a foam cup of cheap coffee. "I meant the rich white girl. Yeah, you. Can I ask you something?"

"Um, sure?" She looked a little weirded out.

"If you see someone wearing, say, a crucifix, do you ask them if their parents are forcing them to wear it or else they get stuck in the basement?" He took a sip of his coffee. It was a bit loud and slurpy.

"What? No, why would I do that?" Zoe said.

"I mean, you asked her if she'd get... what was it, honor-killed?" Nakia, who was starting to grin at the new guy, nodded. "Right, honor-killed if she didn't wear her hiyab."

"But that's different!"

"Why?"

"Because they-" Zoe closed her mouth, and tried again. "I mean, because Catholics don't punish people for not wearing crosses!"

"Don't they?" New Kid blinked. "That's weird, you mean to tell me no Catholics ever punished their children for not comforming to their fate? None whatsoever?"

"Not every Catholic is like that!"

"But every Muslim is?"

Zoe's mouth snapped closed. The new kid slowly and loudly sipped his coffee.

Zoe stormed off without her coffee, Josh in tow.

"Hm, not the debating type, that one." The new kid turned to look at Bruno, who was smiling at him. "How much do I owe you?"

"Coffee's on the house. Gummy worms are $4,95."

While the new kid paid with a ten-dollar bill that had a weird brown stain on the edge, Nakia spoke up. "I didn't need your help."

"I didn't think you did. You probably have more practice with her bullshit than I do." He grabbed his change and shrugged. "But I figured, hey! What the fuck, right?"

"Hm," Nakia was smirking. "I'm Nakia Bahadir."

"I'm Kamala," she said, waving a little.

"And I'm Bruno. Thanks for dealing with the Concern Troll."

The new kid blinked, before shrugging and giving them a titled grin. "Nice to meet you all. Name's Jake."

Holy shit, did I fucking stumble into Kamala Khan's cornerstore? Maybe late night hero-ing to make up for all the time I wouldn't be home was a good idea after all.

She was one of my favourite heroes, so I'd tried looking her up, but she didn't pop up anywhere. I just figured she'd be part of the next generation of heroes, or the one after that.

'Holy shit, I might be in the Avengers with Ms. Marvel!' I thought, finishing my gummy worms and crossing a street, ignoring the blaring horns of cars that dodged me. 'Assuming I become an Avenger, of course.'

I looked at the grey building I'd be staying at until Midtown got fixed. Coles Academic High School.

'I wonder why they felt the need to add "Academic" to the name. It's a high school, of course it's academic.' I walked in and walked around, avoiding coming in contact with anyone. 'Well, let's see my priorities: I have to find out where Mr. Negative is and what he's doing, I have to find how the drones relate to everything, assuming they do, and I have to avoid repeating a semester.'

I got my schedule and locker combination at the principal's office, still scheming.

'How am I going to do all that?' I put away my bag and books. 'I guess I can poke around for a bit, try and get a hold of the Jersey underworld. That should eventually lead me to him. As for the semester, I just have to focus and not get in-'

A small kid with glasses slammed into a locker next to my own.

'... trouble. Shit.'

"Listen, nerd, I'm going to make this simple for you," some jock in a letterman jacket said. "I own you now. You're going to do my homework, you're going to get me answers to all the tests, and-"

"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" He turned and paled when he saw me and my friendly smile. Well, he definitely knew me, that's for sure. "Oh, I know, you're from Midtown too!"

"Uh," he slowly backed away, looking around nervously. Students, like sharks smelling blood on the water, started forming a circle around us as the bully suddenly looked a lot more nervous. "Look man, I was just-"

"Being a bully," I stopped him, and he froze. "Yeah, I saw. And, tell me, do you remember what happened to people I caught bullying in Midtown?"

He swallowed and nodded.

"Good," I dropped the friendly smile and grabbed him by the neck of his shirt. "Cut that shit out or I'll tear your life a new asshole. Am I clear?"

He nodded again, more frantically.

"Awesome!" I smiled again, and patted his cheek. "Now get the fuck out of my sight."

He ran off, the students parting to make way, and I chuckled as I watched him. "Hm, classic."

I turned and looked at the small nerd. "You okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm great," he looked scared. Hm, a bit too heavy-handed if I scared the bullied too.

"Sorry about him," I said, nodding in the direction the bully let. "I thought I had them trained better."

"I-it's okay," the nerd got up and inched away nervously. "Look, I've got to go!"

He ran away, and the crowd dispersed, with a few shooting me odd looks.

[He's scary]

[Do you think he's in a gang or something?]

[Wouldn't surprise me]

[What a weirdo]

[We should keep a distance]

[Yeah, he looks like a shooter in the making]

[Bet he keeps doll heads or something]

You know what's the downside of enhanced senses? You hear every mean little whisper people make when they think you can't hear them.

I closed the locker and went to my first class.

The last bell couldn't ring soon enough.

I dropped my bag next to the door, and threw myself on the bed on my small little apartment. It was literally just one room, with one of those beds that folded out of the wall. I kept boxes full of clothing next to where the bed folded out to, like an improvised nightstand. Ben and May had paid for it, so I could investigate Jersey on a full schedule. In fact, they'd offered to pay for somewhere nicer, but I liked this apartment enough.

I'd already set up my laptop on top of the boxes, and I'd put up a corkboard when I moved in.

On the corkboard, which I affectionately called my Crime Board, I was planning to put my notes on Mr. Negative's operation.

So far, I had a little plastic flashcard with the name "Mr. Negative" written on it, with "(boss)" under it. I'd stuck it at the top.

A little under and to the far right, there was another card that said "Drone Attack" stuck over a picture taken from the internet of the drones that attacked Midtown.

The two weren't connected by anything in particular that I knew, but that didn't bother me. What did bother me was that I had to build up my connections from zero.

It took me months to take care of Fisk's little reign of terror. Three ears on the ground, beating information out of dealers and pedophiles, and spying in on deals. It was slow, and it'd be damn near painful now that I was used to getting information with a snap of my fingers. G. I. Joe wasn't kidding when they said knowledge is half the battle, if you didn't know which faces to kick in, you were damn near screwed.

'My main obstacle is that I'm a stranger in a strange land,' I thought. 'I gave up my home field advantage to cut off the snake's head. Now I have to deal with the consequences.'

But, if I couldn't have home field advantage, I could get someone that did.

I booted up my laptop, and looked up Ms. Marvel.

"I wonder how Overdrive's doing," I detachedly wondered, clicking away from Carol Danvers results. "I hope he's not too overwhelmed with the work I left him."

"We've got to run, man!" Joseph cried, not realizing his friend was long gone. "We gotta hide, and hide fa-"

Before he could continue, a dreadful rumble pierced the quiet of the night, like the roar of a beast from hell.

Joseph turned, and found a sleek blue car staring him down. Through the glare of the headlights, he could see a man wearing a black bike helmet.

The car roared. Joesph screamed in fright.

Ms. Marvel was ready for another night of patrol.

Lately, she'd been stumbling into more and more demon-masked thugs. She was pretty sure they were all members of that Dragon Lords gang she'd been hearing whispers about around school. She wanted to find out more about them, but so far she couldn't figure out any sort of pattern to what they were doing. It was really-

"Ms. Marvel."

Marvel froze on the spot, and whirled around, fists already enbiggened. There was someone standing in the shadows of the roof Kamala had been walking on, with their arms crossed and the back resting against the rooftop access.

Marvel was 96% sure this was a bad guy.

"Before you hit me, I'd like to mention that I'm not a bad guy. I'm just naturally creepy."

... make that 91% sure.

"Who are you?" she said, in her best hero voice.

"If I wanted to be funny, I'd say I'm a concerned citizen," the mystery cape said. "But since I'm not in the mood for all the 'heroes-fighting-heroes' bullshit..."

The mystery cape walked out of the shadows, and Kamala had to work very hard not to boggle.

That was Spider-Man. The Spider-Man.

The guy that everyone found out about when he took out an intricate criminal organization. The guy that the forums said took out crime lords like average people took out waffles. The guy whose fight videos had inspired several challenges based around replicating his stunts. The guy that outdrove an army, and stared down the princess-leader of said army.

That Spider-Man.

"I take it you know who I am?" he sounded amused. Kamala tried to look stoic. "Well, obviously I know who you are, so let's cut to the chase: one of your crooks is trying to move his organization into my city, and I came to deal with him. I want your help."

"You want my help?" Kamala repeated. "B-but I'm just a newbie! I found I had powers like a month ago!"

"And in that time, you dismantled some weird Matrix-esque techno cult. You also have impressive powers, knowledge of the land that I lack, and people skills," Spider-Man gestured vaguely at the rooftop. "I'm not sure if this whole roof-ambush thing tipped you off, but I'm not exactly filled with that last one."

Yeah, he seemed a bit awkward.

Kamala swallowed. Okay, she had this. She'd teamed up with Wolverine, she could handle Spider-Man, even if it looked like it'd be on a longer term. "Where do we start?"

Somehow, Marvel got the impression Spider-Man was smiling.

I danced a little in my room, as I got ready to go to school again. I did the twist in my underwear, the smashed potatoes as I put on my pants, and did some disco while I put on a shirt.

'I'm in a team-up! I'm in a team-up!' I was positively giddy. The last team-up I did was with Johnny, and that was to stop a bank heist, so it only took us like a minute. And frankly, I could use more friends in the Cape community. 'There should be an app for Capes. Oh, who am I kidding, I wouldn't use it.'

I quit screwing around long enough to grab my shit and head for school, stopping by Circle Q on the way. Kamala and Nakia weren't there, but Bruno greeted me with a nod of his head while I marched for the sweet second-hand ambrosia that was shitty coffee.

'Okay, sure, yesterday was a bit rough,' I thought, tossing my foam cup into the trash as I approached the school. 'But it's a new day. Teens have a million things happen to them every day, I'm sure everyone already forgot about me.'

I blinked. 'Wait, these kind of thoughts usually lead to-'

My locker had the words 'go home, lunatic' spray-painted on it, and someone had put a cutsie heart sticker under the message.

I sighed. 'I wonder what would have happened if I'd thought something like "fuck me, everyone is going to stare at me as I walk in". Maybe I'd found I got a complimentary pony? Nah, with my luck, it would have been a mutant flesh-eating hellhorse and I would've had to put it down. Or give it to Blade to ride around in.'

I left my bag, grabbed the books I needed, and left, using every trick Murdock taught me to tune out the whispers and giggles.

'Actually, Blade riding around in a hellhorse would be fucking sweet.'

My classes was boring like a nail through the forehead for the most part, but something amusing did happen halfway through English.

The teacher was blathering on about the majesty that was 'Paradise Lost', when someone tossed a paper ball at me from my right. I let it hit me, and turned an annoyed glare towards the thrower.

An attractive black girl with curly hair set in a loose ponytail pointed at the paperball. I unfolded it, and found a pretty damn good drawing of myself in my annoyed pose (head resting on right hand, resting bitch face out in full force) and with a thought bubble pointing at me that said 'I wonder if swallowing the book would kill me'.

I snorted, and started doodling on the other side, before I balled it up and tossed it in the girl's direction.

I'd used my extremely meager artistic skils to make a stick-figure version of her, which mostly looked like a regular stick figure except holding a pen and it had a curly ponytail. A speech bubble was coming from it, and it said 'I like to flaunt my art powers!'.

The girl smirked, and she drew something on her side, before tossing it back.

"Miss Jones!" the teacher said, and we both whipped around to look at her. "Did you just toss a paper ball at Mister Fletcher?"

"No," she said.

"I just saw you!" the teacher said.

"Did you?"

"Yes, I did!"

"Then why did you ask?" she pointed out.

"You know, she's got a point there," I said.

"You stay out of it, I'm talking to Miss Jones," the teacher said.

"Well, if she had been throwing papers at me, I think I'd be pretty involved in the event," I said, making sure the hand I had holding a paperball was poorly hidden.

"I see. Well, now I don't think she was bothering you at all." The teacher marched forward and stretched a hand, casting a meaningful at the paper ball.

I gave her a low five.

"I'm asking for the ball, Mister Fletcher," she grounded out. I opened my mouth, eager to jump at the oportunity. "The paper ball, Fletcher."

I pouted, but handed it over.

"Now, let's see what you two were so eager to talk about that you couldn't wait while the rest of the class appreciated John Milton's wit," the teacher said, unfolding the paper ball.

Let me explain how cup tricks work:

You have a few cups -maybe two, maybe more- and the ball is in one. It doesn't matter in which one it is, it matters in which ones the ball isn't.

The paperball with the drawings had fallen under my chair. I'd taken a sheet of paper and written on it as quick as I could while the teacher had been focused on Jones, and then I balled it up under the desk while she shouted so she didn't hear the paper crinkle.

The teacher started reading as soon as she could, "You should see me in lingerie."

I gasped, as loud as I could.

"Why I never! I hardly think that's appropiate for a school enviroment." I crossed my legs at the knees and intertwined my fingers, elbows on the table and chin on hands. I fluttered my eyelashes at the teacher, who couldn't be younger than 65. "Of course, if you insist, I won't be in school forever."

The teacher sputtered, and I heard some snickers from the students. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw how Jones was pressing her lips.

"I didn't say that!" the teacher exclaimed.

"Yes you did, I just heard you!" I said, accusingly.

"It wasn't my words, I read it from your paper!"

Oh, she couldn't have given me a better opening if she tried.

"Okay, you caught me," I said, throwing up my hands in a 'what-can-you-do' gesture. "I was working up to asking Jones where I could find a good lingerie store around here. My violet garter belt got a bit torn up, you know how it is, right? You look like a gal that knows how to have fun?"

"I do not!" the teacher said.

"You don't know how to have fun?"

The teacher gave up. "Detention. Go to the library after your classes, you have an hour of detention."

I gave Jones a sideways glance, covered the side of my mouth with a hand, and pointed at the teacher with my thumb. "Definitely doesn't know how to have fun."

"Two days of detention!"

I shrugged. I'd gotten Jones off the hook, after all.

Once the teacher gathered her wits, and the class stopped snickering, she went back to sucking the ghost of John Milton's dick. I reached under the table, and grabbed the ball with all the drawings.

Jones had drawn a stick figure version of myself, jacket and all, and it was saying 'why did nobody tell me punk is dead?!'.

I had to stiffle my laughter. I had work to do, and I couldn't have a whole week of detention. Once I made a crappy drawing of the teacher as a cone of ice-cream with a human face, I slid it on the ground back towards Jones and paid attention.

Who calls John Milton witty, anyways?

Once the bell rung and students left the classroom, I collected my two detention slips with a saccharine smile, and the teacher glared back. As I walked out, Jones rushed to catch up to me. It surprised me how tall she was, she was just a little under my own height, and I was 6'2'' tall.

"Hey," she nodded at me, mouth set in a straight line. "Thanks for distracting her."

"No problem," I shrugged. "It was fun, anyways."

She smirked a little. "I don't know if you read the message, but punk is dead. Being a teacher's pet is all the rage these days."

"Punk fashion died," I corrected. "Punk never dies."

"Sure," she said, mockingly. She handed me the piece of paper. "Hope you don't mind, but I made an addition to your drawing."

I looked at it. There was a big dog head licking the ice-cream teacher, and it was better drawn than anything I'd ever produced.

"Nice," I complimented. "I think I'm gonna hang it on my wall."

The corner of her mouth twiched up. "What do you have next?"

I looked at my schedule, which I'd resigned to carrying around in my pocket for the rest of eternity, along with two candy wrappers and several assignments I never handed in.

They worked as insulation to keep my hands warm in the pockets, okay? Winter is fucking cold, if you didn't know.

"Study hall, looks like," I shrugged. "I'll probably sleep or read through it, maybe try to get the taste of Satan's daddy issues out of my mouth."

Jones nodded in the opposite direction from the library. "I've got art class, and the teacher's an underpaid art college dropout, so he won't care if you're not supposed to be there. Wanna watch me draw people in crisis?"

"Jones, this feels like the beginning of a very annoying for everyone else friendship," I smiled. "I'm Jake, by the way."

"Michelle," she walked away, and called back, "My friends call me MJ."

... OOOOH! She's the girl from the MCU Spider-Man movie!

Wait, am I flirting with another love interest?

... naaaaah. Gwen and MJ were Peter's love interests. Black Cat was Spider-Man's. That's probably why the stuff with Felicia happened. And even so, she wouldn't go for me. Said stuff with Felicia proved it. If anything threatened to blossom, I'd nip it in the bud.

I ran after her, taking out my 'work' phone and texting the number Marvel had given me: Might be slightly late. Feel free to start the stakeout without me.

She texted back a 'thumbs up' emoji.

Why am I the only one that practices proper grammar in texting? Would I be fine doing this whole thing without easy access to backup like Peter or the rest of the Parker clan? Is anyone else going to learn my fucking identity before this thing is through?

I put the work phone back in my jacket's inside pocket, and I followed Michelle. Questions could wait, I had people to mock.