Ch.3 - Forged
Strange Visitor: Iron Before Steel
Ch. 3 – Forged
May 1st, 2009 (local time) – Kunari Province, Afghanistan
Ten Rings Secret Base
Clark crept closer to the ledge to give him a clearer vantage point to observe all of the Ten Rings’ terrorists scurrying about in the small area outside their cave.
It was late morning now, and Clark had overheard the conversation between the cell leader – Raza, Clark thought the man’s name was – and Tony Stark the previous day. He witnessed the ultimatum given to the kidnapped soon-to-be hero to finish his Jericho weapon today or die. Which meant that today was the day he finished his first Iron Man suit: The Mark I.
The big clunky gunmetal gray hulk he’d used in the film to bust out of captivity and lay a solid beat down on his captors.
It was cool in a retro-looking way. Clark thought it was meant to resemble the original armor from the early comics, but he hadn’t seen those since he was a kid.
Peering into the cavern where Stark and his friend Yinson were being kept, he saw the lanky doctor helping Tony into the armor. Their jailers were growing agitated, as they couldn’t see what the men were doing on their monitors in the command room of the caverns.
Clark knew it wouldn’t be long before men were dispatched to check on the prisoners, and Yinson would buy Tony the time he needed to boot up the suit’s software with his life.
So he waited, lying on his belly in the dust along the rocky ridge above the Ten Ring’s encampment.
He looked at each ammunition stockpile spread around the area to reduce the risk of complete disaster should one detonate. Tucked underneath camouflage tents to hide them from satellite detection, it was a decent setup as far as insurgencies go.
It wouldn’t matter shortly.
Clark would light up the sky when he saw the first men move to Stark’s location.
The wait took longer than expected, but finally, he saw the order given. Two men sprinted from the command room down towards the cell where they kept the two men. It was time.
Clark crouched, readying himself to leap across the hollow below to detonate the stockpiles from different angles.
He picked his first target, the ammunition pile furthest away from the cave opening, as no men were near it at that moment. Clark wasn’t prepared to take another man’s life unless he saw no other options.
A Kryptonian under a yellow sun usually has many options.
A loud explosion inside the cave signaled that the booby trap Stark and Yinson had left on their massive iron door had gone off.
Shouts and screams among the men below relayed their confusion and alarm at whatever was happening inside. They were supposed to be the ones with the weapons, so being taken unaware by supposedly unarmed prisoners wasn’t part of their plan.
Clark took another peek inside the base, seeing that Yinson had already activated the power sequence for the suit. They were just waiting for it to come online and give them a way out.
And a squad of armed men were charging towards them.
Not yet.
He saw Yinson pick up a discarded rifle from one of the poor fools who’d opened the door and rush off towards his captors - the gun firing harmlessly into the ceiling.
It seemed Clark wasn’t the only one here uncomfortable with killing.
He watched for a few more seconds as he saw Ho Yinson reach the end of the hallway and come face to face with a firing squad of murderers.
Clark changed his target to one much closer to the mouth of the cave. He pulled up all the anger he felt at the injustice he’d witnessed in this world and the last. He let the fire flow through the core of his body, rising like a proverbial Phoenix within him. He felt the blood vessels near his eyes burn with a white-hot heat, and the power coalesced within the orbs in his skull.
Clark Kent smiled and let it go.
Now.
____________________________________________
As he left the chamber with Stark waiting on the technical marvel he was encased within to power up, Ho Yinson couldn’t help but feel a twinge of fear.
Just a twinge.
He’d decided on this course of action quite a while ago and, for a moment, thought it would not be needed, but was proven wrong. It was simply his time.
He thought of his family as he charged down the hallway, gun firing into the air where it would do no harm – he was still a doctor before all else. He thought of being with them again, in whatever form the next life may take.
He yelled as he chased the cowardly fools before him, trying to buy Mr. Stark the time he would need to escape this hell on earth. Not so tough when someone fought back, it seemed.
He thought of Stark himself. It would have been so easy to hate the man whose negligence or indifference had led to the devastating weapons he created proliferating into hands that never should have held such power.
But he knew it hadn’t been Tony’s fault. Not really. He was careless, perhaps, but others had engineered the crimes perpetrated with the fruits of Stark’s impressive intellect. And now that the man was aware of it, he would be able to do something about it.
He was far more important to the future than a simple doctor, no matter how talented, who wanted nothing more than to be with his family again.
So when Ho Yinson reached the end of the cave hall and saw the men arrayed before him with their weapons aimed true, he felt peace. There is always peace when death’s arrival is accepted.
No more fear. No more grief. Only peace. Yinson closed his eyes and took his expected final breath.
And the world exploded.
____________________________________________
He watched the monitors as his men raced towards the prison cell where the captives were attempting their escape – or whatever this madness was – he could only give a nod in respect to their doomed spirit.
It would appear Stark had chosen the path of resistance after all. He’d been surprised. He’d looked Stark in the eye and seen only submission, but the man seemed to have some iron in his spine that hadn’t been discovered.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Stark was intelligent enough to realize that the Ten Rings would never release him after finishing the task.
Raza Hamidmi al-Wazar had only himself to blame for the current state of affairs. He should have ensured that his men kept a closer eye on the two while they worked on the “Jericho” in their cell. He wondered what it was they had been building.
No matter, they would find out soon enough. Hopefully, it would be impressive enough to push him even further up the rungs in the organization’s hierarchy.
He watched as all of the men who had gone down the corridor turned and fled at the terrifying sight of a single doctor firing a rifle poorly into the air.
Pathetic. It was a wonder he had ever accomplished anything with men like this.
With a bark, he called in all of the fighters near the exit of the cave system. Grabbing a Stark rifle from one of them, he turned and waited for their quarry to present itself. He had spread his men out in a firing line, just in case the doctor found some metal of his own at the end.
He doubted it, though. That one was a healer through and through. He wouldn’t stoop so low as to get his hands dirty with blood unless it was to save the life in front of him rather than take it.
A moment later, Ho Yinsen rounded the corner, coming into view of the line of soldiers Raza had hastily assembled. He made eye contact with the dead man in a show of respect – his courage had earned him that.
Just as he raised his weapon and opened his mouth to give the order to fire, everything outside the cave exploded. The blast wave threw him to the rocky ground before him with enough force to drive the air from his lungs. He felt the heat from the explosion outside, a searing wave that scorched and blistered the skin at the back of his head.
We are under attack from without as well!
There was no way Stark could have engineered the explosions outside the caves! They hadn’t monitored them as closely as they should have, but there was no way he or Yinson could have left the cell to set up this!
His men around him screamed as they, too, were burned by the blast.
He stumbled to his feet, hoisting the rifle that he had somehow not lost his grasp on as he focused his blurry eyes on the doctor at the end of the hall.
He saw surprise – shock even – in the man’s eyes. He had no clue or warning of this attack. It wasn’t Stark, then. A chill ran down Raza’s back at that brief realization. But there was certainly no time to dwell on it. He flashed a sneer at the doctor as he aimed the rifle true and then squeezed the trigger.
____________________________________________
What in the name of all that is holy was going on?
Yinson had expected to die in a hail of gunfire at the hands of the monster Raza, but instead, he’d been tossed to the floor by a massive blast from outside the cave entrance.
As he climbed to his feet, he could see Raza and his men had taken the brunt of the blast, as they'd been standing much closer to the opening than he had. One of them was stripping off his burning jacket at the moment while several others rolled around on the ground, groaning and screaming.
Have the Americans found our location?
There wasn’t time for Yinson to ponder that, as he noticed that Raza had regained his footing and fought through the pain of his injuries. The doctor in him noted that the bastard was suffering from at least first-degree burns on his neck and the back of his bald head. It likely wouldn’t be fatal, but it certainly would hurt.
Through the explosion's shock, Yinson allowed himself a brief moment of shameful pleasure at that fact. For another moment, he thought of raising his weapon and finishing off the monster before him. It would guarantee that the beast would never harm another innocent life again.
But the thought flitted away as quickly as it arrived. Ho was not a killer. He couldn’t bring himself to take a life. Not even one as twisted and dark as Raza’s.
He had accepted his fate and straightened his back as Raza aimed once again. It was time for him to go home.
He flinched as Raza pulled the trigger, and he saw the flash from the muzzle.
____________________________________________
Raza felt the rifle buck in his hands as he pulled the trigger.
His sneer fell though as another now stood before him where before he'd seen only Yinson’s face. A large hooded man now blocked the path of the bullets that he was sending down the corridor.
He was tall – taller than Raza himself - dressed in casual American attire. As he continued to empty the ammunition clip into this unexpected interloper, he was suddenly aware of a concerning fact.
The bullets appeared to be bouncing off the man’s chest. His jacket was unzipped, leaving only what looked like a thin blue t-shirt with some kind of stylized S emblazoned on the center. Far too thin to be concealing a bulletproof jacket – not that it would have mattered with the caliber of the projectiles he was pouring into the man’s body.
Raza could only frown with incomprehension as the chamber of the rifle began clicking, and the bullets stopped. He glanced down at the now empty weapon and then back up at the unforeseen foe staring him down through the shadows under the hood.
What happened next, Raza would remember for the rest of his days – however many or few remained.
Thin spiderwebs of light gathered along the man’s temples as a brilliant yellowish light began to glow where his eyes should have been. It was as if two tiny suns had peeked out from behind the man’s eyelids and were now shining directly at Raza.
In an absolute daze, Raza could only react in horror as he noticed the sound of meat sizzling on a grill, and a quick whiff of burning flesh slipped into his nostrils. His eyes shot to the rifle in his hands, now glowing a bright red-orange. Raza screamed as he dropped the ruined weapon; through his pain, he realized that it was his own hands that he'd heard and smelled cooking.
The last thing he saw was a blur of motion before something unseen struck him in the face, and everything went dark.
____________________________________________
You can never find good help when you need it.
Or buy it. Or at least rent it. This hadn’t been the plan, Yinson. They were both supposed to make it out of here.
How was he going to make up for all the deaths in his past if people kept dying while he was doing it?
Tony stayed still as one of the terrorists slowly searched the makeshift workshop he and Yinson had put together here in Club Cave. His left hand twitched in his leather gauntlet, muscles straining as he remained motionless as the green-clad bastard wandered directly in front of him.
A massive explosion rocked the entire complex, shaking dirt and dust loose from the ceiling – thankfully nothing else – as whatever had happened echoed through the halls.
That’s it. I’m done. He’s close enough—time to get this party started. Wish I’d been able to put together a playlist for this; some AC/DC would totally hit the spot. Hmm… Rage Against the Machine seems more appropriate for some reason.
He powered on the suit, juice flowing directly from the mini-ARC embedded in his chest – Don’ t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t… dammit! - and the spotlight centered on the breastplate of his armor illuminated the fool hunting for him. He turned and was instantly blinded by the light blazing straight into his eyes, long enough that he caught a fistful of steel from Stark, who sent him flying across the room.
His machine gun fired harmlessly as he sailed through the air.
Ha! Testify!
Unfortunately, the man’s colleagues decided to shoot first and ask questions later at the sight of their friend screaming through the air. They opened fire at, well, he supposed it was supposed to be himself, but sadly, the only thing in their line of fire was a stack of surface-to-air missiles from which he’d taken guidance chips to build this suit!
Gaah! Idiots! There are easier ways to die than suicide by SAM!
Thankfully, they were as incompetent and poorly trained as they were stupid and cowardly. They hit nothing but the back of the cave wall, bullets harmlessly falling to the ground rather than causing a massive explosion that none would survive.
Tony marched out when they stopped firing and, with three quick swipes from his massive metal-encased arms, put all three out of his misery.
Thanks for playing, fellas. Better luck next time.
As Tony stomped down the hall, another man with more bullets than sense lit up the corridor with the muzzle flash from his Stark Industries rifle – boy, didn’t that smart. He was almost surprised when the crazed fool charged him, but another quick backhand solved his newest problem. Two more problems were dealt with just as quickly as they popped up.
The sound of more explosions from outside swept through the base.
Another group of gunmen decided they weren’t ready to take a shot at the Iron Giant and scurried away from him the moment he rounded a corner, making his way toward the exit.
I think. They had a bag over my head most of the time I was outside my room. Not great on the accommodations. I’m definitely going to have to call their corporate office after this.
The straggler got caught behind the others and suddenly found himself locked out of a pair of thick iron doors. He pounded on them, begging his fellows to let him in. Tony felt obliged to reunite them.
“You know what? Let me get that for you...”
The iron doors gave in the fourth blow, flying down the now almost empty hallway. One of the dummies didn’t bother to clear out and was lying under one of the doors.
Yup, that’ll ruin your day.
Stark decided enough was enough. He proceeded to march through the remainder of the cave's system of halls, eventually arriving at the tunnel leading out into the light of the outside world. There, he found Yinson standing tall and staring down the empty corridor.
Nope, not empty. A bevy of bodies lay scattered about the corridor. Glancing around, problematic given the lack of peripheral vision and limited range of motion he had in this metal shell, he noticed that none of them had bullet wounds. A few looked singed, but they were all just… sleeping.
Tony flipped up the iron mask on his helmet to look his cellmate in the face.
“Yinson! First, what did you do? Don’t take this as criticism; it isn’t, but I didn’t think you had it in you to, uh, you know. Do this. Are they dead? Did you roofie everyone when I wasn’t watching? What gives? Second – what happened to the plan? Third - are you okay?”
Yinson finally turned to Stark, a sad smile on his face. “The plan was for you to go home and me to my family. It almost worked.”
Realization broke through the confusion on Tony’s face as he understood what that meant.
“Your family. They aren’t waiting for you back in Gulmira, are they?”
“… No. They are gone. And no, I do not blame you. What happened to them was not your fault, Tony. But our plan was to get you home so you can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Stark met Yinson’s sad eyes briefly before giving him a short nod.
“As for all this… it was not me. We had help, or I would not be here to explain.” Yinson stopped at that as Tony continued to look around.
Stark’s gaze finally fell on Raza as they approached the exit to the cave. He was lying on his side, back near the wall. Tony noticed his hands appeared to be burned rather severely. He looked back at Yinson to see if the doctor would stop to help the unconscious killer.
The good doc glanced at the monster lying in the hall as they both moved toward the light flooding in from outside.
“Hold up, Doc!” Stark called.
Yinson stopped and turned back to him, an unasked question written on his face.
“Better let me go first; any bullets they may have left will, uh, be less of an issue, yeah?” Stark raised his eyebrows, and his slight nod told Yinson that the matter wasn’t a suggestion but more of an order.
Yinson smiled back and gave Stark a shallow bow as he swept his arm forward to let Stark take the lead. “I do not expect much resistance left out there either, but just in case, yes… I will gladly follow you from this point on, Tony Stark.”
Stark’s grin got bigger.
“I’m considering that a verbal contract. You’re hired. Way better than my general practitioner. And specialists. We can talk benefits later, but name your salary. Pepper will rubber-stamp it, I’m sure. Maybe let’s not tell her I said that until after we can have a sit-down. I think the board will be having some issues with the changes I’m going to implement…”
Stark flipped down his faceplate at that and stomped out into the open air and sunlight.
Yinson followed closely behind.
Outside, the weapon stockpiles Raza and his minions had proudly shown off were all burning wreckage – the fires still blazing high into the sky as thick black smoke poured out in a dozen or more places.
Stark looked around, stunned by the totality of the damage. Yinson’s gaze was more like one of awe.
“Holy shit. Did NATO show up here and not stick around for a pat on the back? I feel a little overdressed now.”
Men were strewn about the edges of the camp, their weapons twisted and broken on the ground near each of them. There was no blood anywhere and no visible wounds on them either.
Yinson stopped at one of the first they came upon, briefly checking for a pulse. He looked up at Stark with a small smile before speaking.
“They are alive. All of them, I believe. I suspect they will all wake up with a terrible headache, but they are still breathing. Incredible.” His face was bespoke of wonderment as he surveyed the damage and dozens of men spread about.
“Wow. Okay, well, while the Ten Rings company nap-time is going on, why don’t you help me out of this thing? I don’t fancy a walk through the mountains trapped in a giant iron shell if I can avoid it. We’ll move quicker, too. I bet they can see all this from space. Which way should we go, Doc?"
“West. Once we get down out of these mountains, it should be easier for your friends to find us on the plains.”
Twenty minutes later, they left a dozen burning tents, several scores of unconscious terrorists, and a pile of iron plates scattered around the cave.
____________________________________________
Triskelion – Washington, DC
40th Floor – Director’s Offices
Sitwell rushed from the bullpen floor toward Fury’s office, the single-page report in his hands almost causing him physical pain from the burning desire to take it elsewhere. He’d tried surreptitiously to contact Pierce, but the Secretary was currently engaged in Council business.
One of the analysts monitoring satellite chatter over the alphabet agencies had thrown up a Code Red. The NSA had one of their off-the-books eyes catch some major fireworks in eastern Afghanistan about twenty minutes earlier—at least a dozen explosions powerful enough to level buildings.
Two quick phone calls later, Sitwell had the report and a high-def photo of the location in hand and was on his way to hand it to Fury, as his official standing orders dictated.
His unofficial orders were always to see how everything could benefit his actual employer, but with Pierce unavailable, Sitwell wouldn’t dream of handing over valuable intel to anyone else. At best, they’d keep or use the information to their advantage. At worst… Sitwell didn’t even want to imagine the worst with some of his “colleagues.”
He stalked past Fury’s secretary Janice with a simple “Report for the Director” without breaking stride. The old bat could glare all she liked.
Pushing open the door, he interrupted the latest meeting of Fury’s little Enhanced Task Force, or whatever they liked to call themselves – for all the good they’d done over the past year. Odds were they were going over whatever latest article the Daily Bugle had dropped. Ever since they’d thrown together a front-page edition with the only pics of the Hulk and Marvel, they’d released a steady stream of editorials, “eyewitness” reports, and blatant bald-faced lies as often as possible.
Fury was, well, furious. Sitwell was glad he hadn’t been in the room when J.J. Jameson had been called in with his lawyer. They said shouting could be heard in the Atrium on the ground floor.
Eyes and heads swiveled towards him as Sitwell approached the desk and handed Fury the report and satellite photos.
“This just came in from the NSA. Kunar Province in eastern Afghanistan about 100 miles east of Bagram.”
Fury, a look of indifference gracing his features, took the report and skimmed through it. After spending the better part of an entire minute scrutinizing them, he glanced at the photo and then handed both right back to Sitwell.
“Send it to Bagram. We pulled Strike from there three days ago. They’re in the UK now, so it doesn’t make sense to turn them around when the Air Force can get on-site in less than 90 minutes.”
Sitwell looked at him in surprise. “You want to hand this off? What if it’s related to Stark?”
“Then the Air Force will be very motivated to bring him back alive, won’t they? Send it off, Sitwell. Daylight is burning.”
Goddamn it. Now, he’d never be able to use this to his advantage.
____________________________________________
Kunar Province, Eastern Afghanistan
Ten weeks of nothing.
Dead-end leads. Rumors that went nowhere. Fake sightings and false promises had driven him and every other American soldier in Afghanistan in circles, looking for Tony.
Goddamn it. This one better not be a lie, either.
James Rhodes couldn’t take another heartbreak after this fruitless search for his best friend over the past three months. It was all his fault. If he’d just insisted on Tony riding back to the base with him like he knew he should have – even then, this might have been avoided entirely.
The Blackhawk helicopters he and the Para Rescue Squad he’d brought along were riding in crested over another ridge as they skimmed above the eastern desert plains that ran up to the mountains in this province of Afghanistan. They were about 15 miles west of where the NSA satellite detected the ordinance explosions early this morning.
The location itself was deserted. Just burning wreckage and empty caves stretching through one of the mountains in eastern Kunar. The two helicopters had swept in from the north to surprise anyone who might still be lingering at the location, but they had left in a hurry. Inside the caves were caches of weapons and ammo abandoned by the insurgents that had been using them. They’d only found a small number of bodies at the base.
It was evident that the group here had been holding someone captive, though. A large room in the cave's center was set up as a cell and violently blasted open from within. The equipment inside that room gave Rhodes hope that his friend had still been alive, as recently as earlier today. The special operators and Rhodes had cleared the caves in the hope that Stark was still there, somewhere, perhaps injured.
He wasn’t there any longer. He’d either escaped the cell and vanished into the desert in the chaos of those explosions, or the terrorists had taken him (or his body) with them afterward when they fled the area.
Rhodes made the call to head west toward friendly territory. With any luck, Tony would be headed in that direction.
They would have to stay vigilant; if there were insurgents still in the area, they may have anti-air weapons that could threaten the chopper. It wouldn’t do to come all this way and come up just short of saving his friend only to die himself.
“Sir, we’ve got two contacts out in the open. The area doesn’t appear prone to ambush. Should we do a flyover?”
Excitement and hope bubbled up again in Rhodes’ chest. He tamped it down as best he could. What were the odds that one of these two men could be his friend?
Rhodes affirmed the plan. They’d fly over the contacts at speed to give themselves a closer look without exposing themselves to as much danger as could reasonably be avoided.
As they passed over the small crest of desert sands, Rhodes looked down out of the chopper to get a visual ID of the men below.
His heart soared as he recognized one of the two men, both of their heads wrapped in cloth to protect them from the mid-day sun, had a lighter skin color. As they flew over, the lighter-skinned man waved at them in greeting!
Rhodes called it. “It’s him! Set us down now!” He ordered the pilot.
A minute later, James Rhodes was jogging across the sand as he and a squad of Airmen approached his kneeling friend and Tony’s fellow escapee – rifles at the ready, just in case.
“How was the fun-vee?” Rhodes asked Stark. A wide, relieved smile was Tony’s only response.
“Next time, you ride with me, okay?” No words were needed as Stark leaned forward into his friend’s embrace. Rhodes looked up at the unknown man standing next to them, a gentle smile on his features.
“You just make friends wherever you go, don’t you, Tony? Almost as easily as you make enemies. Your new buddy got a name?”
Stark leaned back and slowly stood up with Rhodes' help.
“Rhodey, I’d like you to meet my newest best-est friend in the world. Ho Yinson. Yinson, this is my oldest best-est friend, Rhodey-bear. He only answers to that when he’s not in uniform, though. Just so you know.”
Rhodes could only shake his head in exasperation. Not even being captured by terrorists and months of likely torture could keep Tony from being Tony.
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Yinson, platypus. I mean literally. He saved me.”
Rhodes sent a nod of thanks and gratitude toward his new friend, which was swiftly answered with a modest bow of his head.
“Let’s get you two home.”
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May 16th, 2009 - Metropolis, Illinois
Kent Farm
Kara squealed as she raced into the living room with her breakfast.
She loved it here on the farm! It was so much fun. She missed having Kelex around all the time, but she was busy with important things. Important things!
She had Gramma, and that was all she needed.
A lick from her companion sitting next to her on the couch reminded the little girl there was someone else she needed.
“Barkley!” Kara screamed in delight as she threw her arms around her furry friend.
Of course, she needed Barkley.
She picked up the control rod for the television, which was also her favorite, and turned it on. It was time for cartoons!!
She didn’t remember cartoons back on Krypton. They must not have had them. But why not!? Cartoons are so fun.
She hunted through the channels expertly. She may be only halfway to age four, but she did hail from a highly advanced ancient civilization that made liberal use of genetic engineering.
Barkley sat patiently beside her as she flipped between stations, looking for her favorite.
She squealed again when she found it. “Ninja Turtles!!!” Barkley shared her delight with a woof.
She put down the control rod; she didn’t want to change the channel now accidentally! She dug into her bowl of cereal that Gramma had poured.
Munch, munch, munch. Nom, nom, nom.
The tiny little blonde-headed sprite happily wolfed down her beloved Captain Crunch. Of course, she shared with Barkley whenever she remembered, which was often. She wiggled excitedly in her seat on the floor a few feet from the TV.
About halfway through her bowl of dry cereal, her program was interrupted.
Kara frowned. Where did the Turtles go? They still had plenty of Foot Hijinks to spoil and a city to save!
Grown-ups were talking on the screen now. Cameras flashed everywhere. She liked cameras. Gramma used one to take pictures! They were like frozen holos from back on Krypton.
The front door opened, and Kal was home! She hopped up from the floor and rushed towards him! Hugs!!!
He picked her up with a laugh and pulled her in tight into a hug. Kal gave the best hugs! Like always, he tossed her up in the air – to her eternal delight - and called her <starlight> in Kryptonian speak. She loved that name. It reminded her of home and mommy and daddy.
She missed them.
Kal then set her on the ground and, with a pat, sent her back to her spot on the floor. He sat down behind her on the couch, smiling as she grinned and fed Barkley another handful of Captain Crunch.
Kal shook his head and mumbled something, but she wasn’t worried. Kal didn’t get upset with her.
He looked at the TV and said, “Oh, I didn’t miss it. How about that?"
Kal turned up the noise on the TV. Kara shrugged. If it wasn’t cartoons, she wasn’t interested. The grown-ups started talking again. The man with the funny black beard was talking now with the old bald man beside him. The bearded man looked hurt. Kara hoped he was alright.
After a few minutes of talking, the camera show with the grown-ups ended, and her Turtles came back on!
Yay!!! Kara wiggled on the floor. Barkley agreed; she could tell.
Kal quietly said something on the couch. “It’s finally starting.”
Kara looked back at him. He looked very sad. Or maybe worried. She wasn’t sure. It was hard to tell emotions sometimes. They were all so big and scary.
Kara jumped off the ground and ran to Kal on the couch. She hopped up onto his lap and gave him her best hug.
He always made her feel better, so maybe she could do the same.
Everything would be okay.