Chapter 9: Chapter Nine: Promises and Persistence
Marshall leaned against a tree, arms crossed as he watched Peter pace back and forth. The kid had been talking non-stop for the last five minutes, all while gesturing wildly as if that would somehow make his argument more convincing.
"I'm just saying, Marshall," Peter said, his voice rising with excitement, "we've been best friends for years. If you're doing this superhero thing, I should be part of it. I mean, come on, who else has your back like me?"
Marshall sighed, rubbing his temples. "Pete, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but this isn't a game. That watch? Those robots? This is real life. People can get hurt—or worse."
Peter stopped pacing and turned to face him, crossing his arms. "Exactly. That's why you need me! You can't do this alone, and you know it."
"Peter," Marshall said firmly, standing up straight. "This isn't like the comics or the movies. This isn't just running around in tights and saving the day. Those droids almost killed us last night. I don't want you anywhere near that kind of danger."
"I can handle it!" Peter shot back, his tone stubborn. "You think I'm just gonna sit around and let you do all the cool stuff while I'm stuck being a regular kid? No way. I can help."
Marshall groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't about 'cool stuff,' Pete. This is about survival. I have to deal with things you can't even imagine—things that'll make those droids look like toys."
Peter took a step closer, his voice softer now. "You don't get it, do you? We're best friends. I'm not just gonna sit by and let you go through this alone. Whatever's out there, we face it together."
Marshall looked at him, his jaw tightening. Peter's loyalty was unshakable, and that was part of the problem. The kid didn't understand what he was asking for—what it would cost if he got involved.
"You don't know what you're signing up for," Marshall said, his tone serious. "This isn't just about fighting bad guys or being a hero. There are gonna be choices—hard ones—and consequences. You're not ready for that."
Peter's eyes narrowed. "So what, you're just gonna push me away? Pretend I don't exist when things get tough? That's not how this works, Marshall. You don't get to decide that for me."
Marshall threw up his hands. "I'm trying to keep you safe, Pete! That's the whole point! If you get involved, you could get hurt—or worse. And I'm not letting that happen."
Peter took another step closer, his voice rising again. "And what happens if you get hurt? What happens if you're out there, alone, and you can't handle it? Who's gonna have your back then? You think you're invincible just because of that watch?"
Marshall stared at him, the words hitting harder than he'd expected. Peter wasn't wrong—he couldn't do this alone. But dragging Peter into it felt selfish, even reckless.
"Listen," Marshall said after a long pause, his voice softer. "If you really want to help, the best thing you can do is keep this a secret. Don't tell anyone about the watch or what it can do. If people find out, it's not just me who'll be in danger—it's you, too."
Peter frowned, crossing his arms again. "Fine. I promise I won't tell anyone. But you have to let me help. You can't just shut me out."
"Peter—"
"No," Peter interrupted, his tone resolute. "I'm not letting you do this alone, Marshall. You're my best friend. We're in this together, whether you like it or not."
Marshall sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"
"Not a chance," Peter said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Marshall groaned but couldn't help the faint smile that crossed his face. "You're relentless, you know that?"
Peter shrugged. "It's one of my best qualities."
Marshall shook his head, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. "Fine. You can help. But on my terms. You don't do anything stupid, and you don't put yourself in danger. Got it?"
Peter grinned, his excitement bubbling over. "Got it. So, what's the plan? Do we get costumes? Code names? Ooh, can I have a cape?"
Marshall rolled his eyes. "First of all, no capes. Second, we're not 'we.' You're just my guy in the chair—if that. And third, this isn't happening right away. I need to figure things out before we do anything."
Peter's grin faltered slightly, but he nodded. "Okay. But you know this whole 'guy in the chair' thing is just temporary, right? Eventually, I'm gonna be out there with you, fighting bad guys."
"We'll see," Marshall said, though he had no intention of letting that happen.
For now, he had Peter's promise to keep things quiet. That was a start. But deep down, Marshall knew this was just the beginning of their argument. Peter wasn't the type to stay on the sidelines for long. And knowing what the future held for him, Marshall had a feeling it wouldn't be long before Peter's persistence paid off.
Still, Marshall had bigger things to worry about. He glanced at the Omnitrix, its faint glow a constant reminder of the battles to come. "One step at a time," he thought. "One step at a time."
Elsewhere
The rumble of black SUVs and unmarked vans echoed through the forest as the convoy pulled up to the edge of the clearing. SHIELD agents clad in tactical gear poured out of the vehicles, moving with precision and efficiency. Bright floodlights were set up around the area, illuminating the eerie scene of destruction.
Nick Fury stepped out of the lead SUV, his coat trailing behind him as he surveyed the site. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the crackling of charred wood and the faint hum of the energy still lingering in the air. Maria Hill followed close behind, clipboard in hand, as agents began cordoning off the area with yellow tape and portable containment units.
"What are we looking at?" Fury asked, his voice low but commanding.
Hill gestured toward the smoldering crater. "Something came down hard here, Director. Possibly extraterrestrial. We've detected faint energy traces, but nothing we can identify yet. The tech we're finding is… advanced."
Fury's one good eye narrowed as he walked toward the center of the site. The crater was shallow but wide, its edges littered with strange metallic fragments. Some pieces still glowed faintly, their surfaces etched with sharp, angular patterns that shimmered under the floodlights.
An agent approached, holding up a charred chunk of metal roughly the size of a football. "Director, we're finding these scattered all over the area. Looks like parts of some kind of machine. Maybe a drone."
Fury took the piece, turning it over in his hands. It was lightweight but unusually sturdy, the edges jagged as if it had been violently torn apart. "Not human," he muttered. "Too clean. Too advanced. And it doesn't look like anything Stark's been playing with, either."
Hill nodded, scanning another piece with a handheld device. "It's definitely extraterrestrial. But the energy signature is unlike anything we've seen before. This isn't Kree, and it's not Asgardian."
Fury tossed the fragment to one of the nearby agents. "Bag it. I want every piece cataloged and analyzed. If this is alien tech, we need to know who it belongs to and what it's doing here."
Another agent called out from the edge of the clearing. "Director! You need to see this!"
Fury and Hill followed the agent to a cluster of trees just beyond the crater. There, partially buried in the dirt, was what looked like a robotic limb. Its sharp, spindly design was unlike anything Fury had seen before. One of its claws was still extended, frozen mid-strike, and its metallic surface was blackened and scorched.
"Looks like someone didn't want this thing getting back up," Hill said, her tone clipped.
Fury knelt down, inspecting the limb closely. "You think this thing was part of a group?"
Hill nodded. "It's possible. If there's one, there could be more."
"Great," Fury muttered. "Just what we need—alien robots running loose in New York." He stood, his gaze sweeping over the clearing. "What about witnesses? Anyone see what happened?"
Another agent stepped forward, holding up a tablet with a report. "We found footprints leading away from the site. Two sets—human-sized. They lead back toward the nearby campsite."
Fury frowned, glancing toward the forest. "So someone was here when this went down.
Civilians?"
"Possibly," the agent replied. "The tracks look fresh. They were probably here last night."
Hill raised an eyebrow. "If they were close enough to leave tracks, they might have seen what happened. Or worse—they might have taken something."
Fury nodded grimly. "I want a team at that campsite. Talk to everyone there. Don't spook them, but get answers. And if anyone saw something, I want their names on my desk by the end of the day."
Hill gave a curt nod, already issuing orders into her comm. Agents fanned out, collecting fragments of the droids and taking detailed scans of the crater. The robotic limb was carefully sealed in a containment unit, while other pieces of alien tech were tagged and bagged for transport.
Fury stared at the scene, his mind racing. This wasn't just a random incident—it couldn't be. The timing, the tech, the energy readings… it all felt deliberate.
"Director," Hill said, breaking his thoughts. "If this is extraterrestrial, and it's this advanced, we need to consider the possibility that more of it is out there."
Fury's jaw tightened. "Then we find it before it finds us. I want every available resource on this. No stone unturned. And get me Coulson—I want his team on standby."
Hill nodded, her expression serious. "Understood."
As the agents continued their work, Fury glanced back at the crater one last time. Whatever had come down here wasn't random. Something—or someone—was pulling the strings.
"Whoever you are," Fury muttered under his breath, "you've got my attention."
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