She gave a tiny frown, and it only made her lovelier. "I… I'm afraid you've got it wrong, my beloved First Man. This evening is for the drears, the ones who act, who write, who direct."
"Fuck sideways, no wonder every bastard here's prancing like a peacock on th. Ah, Hollywood… yeah, so foggy brain cells just flickered. You got the acoustic couch and those kiddie diddlers? Shit, I'm surrounded by the opposite of nerds."
"..."
"No, I don't believe so. But we do have communist problems."
"Communists? Hold the fuck up, is Stalin still breathing? That shit-stache still owes a hundred high-IQ Russian beauties, the bastard," Marshall snarled. "Anyway, you said movies? Shoulda dragged Marty's ass here. Wait. Holy shit. I need to make a goddamn movie. Baby Jesus on water, listen! Batshit alien invasion, cowboys, dinosaur, balls-to-the-wall action insanity."
"..."
The woman lost count of how many tis she was left speechless.
"That sounds…"
"Hell yeah!" Marshall barked and rose to his feet. The entire theater thundered into silence, the sa for the stage.
"I'll make the most badass movie. I'll do every single stunt myself. Shoot square in the face with live rounds, I dare you! No fake CGI horseshit, everything real. Shit, I need Gamora to kidnap so actual space freaks too. Throw in my goddamn mammoths! Hela can float shit around with her mind and… Holy fuck, this is gonna be a blood-soaked masterpiece!"
The woman smiled and stood up as well, not looking around as everyone's gaze made her nervous. "If it's you, I doubt it'll be a problem."
"Damn right. Who makes the best movies these days?" Marshall asked.
"MGM, I believe. They're the top of the heap right now. But I happen to be signed with Twentieth Century Fox."
Marshall humd, rubbing his beard. "MGM. Why'd I picture a fucking lion? Fuck it, doesn't matter. From now on, the logo is Marty's ugly mug forever. I'll buy it… What's your na?"
"I'm Marilyn Monroe, First Man. The pleasure's all mine." She gave a sweet, graceful little bow.
Marshall nodded and patted her naked shoulder. "You're gonna be the lead actress beside . Don't worry, I'll throw you in the sky, we'll do all the stunts, crazy ones. Wait, you got a manager or sothing—"
"Yes, I accept! I'll do it, First Man. Honestly, I'm just starting to be noticed. Fa hasn't quite found yet. I still have so much to prove, so many years ahead. Working with you would be an honor, both because I follow the faith of the First Man and because it would an everything to my career."
Marshall clapped his hands so hard that the people around him covered their ears. "Done! Fucking done! I'm gonna hunt down soone to be my assistant. Clear your goddamn calendar, you're about to beco world-famous… Shit, maybe galaxy-famous. Wait… can I just beam this crap to other planets? Fuck it, why not? See you around."
With that, he flew away, over the seats and towards the exit. He quickly got out and walked the sa red carpet. The caras started flashing instantly, but he didn't leave this ti. He kept looking at the photographers.
Soon enough, one of the young photographers stopped clicking pictures and voiced. "F-First Man? Can I help you with sothing?"
Marshall grinned. "There's my little good boy. Co here, son."
The nerdy boy couldn't have been older than twenty. But that didn't matter. Marshall saw the boy struggling, so he just levitated him and brought him over.
Pat!
Finally, he smacked the boy on the shoulder.
"Listen up, you glorious little at-sack, you're my assistant now. And together we're gonna shit out the most batshit, universe-crushing, popcorn-gargling blockbuster the multiverse never asked for. Let's fuckin' go."
"W-What?"
Honk!
Before the boy could ask him anything, a horn rang from the road. He turned and found a roofless car, driven by a thin man with an equally thin mustache, looking all intelligent. Marshall's nerd radar was working. In the passenger seat was the tall, strong, one and only Captain Rogers.
"Right on ti! I needed a ride." Marshall barked and dragged his new assistant with him. "Steven, son, will you invest in my movie?"
"..."
While Captain Arica was speechless, the driver chirped. "I will! I'll fund it whole!"
"Who the fuck are you?" Marshall asked.
"Sorry for the intrusion. I'm Howard Stark, founder of Stark Industries."
Marshall frowned and scratched his head. "Did you build sothing with scraps in a cave?"
"Not that I can rember."
"Hmmm… my goddamn brain. Let's go."
####
Marshall didn't plan to, but the Stark boy drove them to his mansion. Being a sucker for new tastes and foods, he eventually accepted the invitation. Strangely enough, the cooks had prepared everything already, as if they knew that he was coming beforehand.
"You're a Dinosian? The hell are you doing here then? Seems to be a waste of a good nerd."
"Ha. Guilty as charged, I'm a nerd. The difference is, I'm the kind of nerd who turns ideas into cash. Those boys on Dinosia? Happy just running experints and writing papers. ? I build things that shake the world, put them into production, and yeah… make a fortune doing it."
Marshall just nodded. He never understood the concept of earning money. He just had whatever he wanted at all tis. Dinosia was rich on its own as well.
"And you?" Marshall looked at Steven, sitting stiffly in civilian clothes and not that tight ass-clenching uniform. "What have you been up to?"
"Got married, have a son, serving the country still," Steven replied.
"Sweet. Who did you marry?"
"She fought alongside in the war. Na's Peggy. That's what everyone calls her. Her full na is Margaret. She received the serum after ."
Marshall humd, frowned, and then shrugged. "Can't rember."
"What's this movie you want to make?" Howard chid in, as if trying to change the topic. "Never figured a god would be interested in that."
"Why the hell not? I'm bored out of my goddamn skull. This ti I've got a real vision and a story. Just gotta scrape the shit off it and bam! Instant blockbuster. Might even drag so Asgardians in for caos. Odin already looks like a grumpy old war-god prick. Zeus could play a solid dickhead villain. And Lady Death, hold the fuck up, didn't that pale-ass goddess get knocked up by ? What the shit happened to our kid?"
"..."
Howard Stark and Steven Rogers watched the ancient god speak to himself, riddles that got answered by the god himself.
"You have a kid with who?!" Howard exclaid.
"Pale chick, pretty hot, old, I guess, but still hot... You wouldn't know, not before dying."
"You fucked death?" Howard asked further.
"I sure did. Hela is also called the Goddess of Death, though. What does that make my kid? Half-death? Death ultra?"
"..."
The two n seed to realise there was a level to a man's insanity, and this level was too high for them.
"Sir, First Man… What happened before you vanished? Who was that in the sky?" Steven asked, getting back to the topic. "We know it was soone powerful called an Aspirant. But we don't exactly know what that ans. If such a threat cos again—"
"You're fucked. Kid, that thing is older than this whole universe and six more before it," Marshall replied nonchalantly. "Judging by Stark's dumbass gaping mouth, you had no goddamn clue, huh? The universe is just one long circle-jerk that eventually blows its load and dies. That sky-thing is a leftover from Universe Nuro Uno, and it's itching to drag the original big-dick cosmic asshole, personification of the first universe, back into play."
"W-Wha-What? What? Huh? Personification of what now?" Howard exclaid. "That makes no sense."
Marshall laughed at their dumb faces. "It ain't supposed to."
"Please, Sir. Help us understand it, at least," Steven pleaded.
Marshall nodded and looked at the upright man. "Weird. The whole planet's out here chanting 'First Man' or 'Your Holiness' like I'm the second coming with better hair. Then you stroll up and drop a plain old 'Sir' on ."
"There is only one true god, Sir—"
"Ah? Jesus?" Marshall blurted, leaning back in the chair. "Hah, who'd have thought that little snot-nosed gremlin would turn into a goddamn legend? Kid was cute as fuck, though."
"..."
Howard Stark and Steven Rogers exchanged glances.
"By 'that kid' you an….?" Howard asked, curiously leaning in.
Steven Rogers was the sa.
Marshall shrugged. "Jesus, who else? Fine kid, didn't cry much. His mom and dad ca to to hide from so retard king. I couldn't be bothered to babysit, so I just killed the king and his kingdom. Marty was caught fucking a house there, never gonna forget that shit."
"You know Joseph and Mary?" Steven exclaid.
"T-Rex fucked a house?" Howard was the sa, for a different reason.
"Yes and abso-fucking-lutely yes. Heh. Marty's carrying this embarrassnt to his goddamn grave. Sucker."
Sowhere, out there, a certain T-Rex sneezed on a poor baby mammoth.
####
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