The Marvels

Ep. 38 | Guy's Night

Juggernaut flipped through the index cards, nodding at some and rolling his eyes at most. PR was good at pre-writing speeches, but as the years went by, he'd found himself wanting less and less to adhere to them. They were just outlines now.

He was sitting in an empty conference room, tweaking the cards and throwing away the ones that were pointless. This specific set was for the banquet on the night before the anniversary. It was Celestro's private pre-celebration, with a guest list of two hundred people who Fox had decided were important enough—or advantageous enough—to be there. Juggernaut wasn't sure which he would end up hating more: the banquet, the actual anniversary day, or the busy times leading up to both.

He quickly counted all the cards he still had left; half done, half to go. The soundtrack to his edit session was the wall of screens, each one playing a different bit of media on anything that had to do with him or heroism. They were all old segments he'd probably seen already, but he kept them on in the background in case any interesting talking points popped up. There were a lot of appearances on the way, and he wanted to be prepared for any left-field questions.

He was crossing out an entire sentence when he heard something that made him freeze.

"I think we're forgetting the fact that he could annihilate a city within minutes, and no one would be able to stop him?"

Juggernaut looked up, eyes narrowing at the screen on the upper left, showing a segment from only two years ago. It was Lisa Pokoly, his biggest critic, who'd said it, and the other talk show guests were alarmed.

"But why would he do that?" one of them pointed out with an awkward laugh. "He's had his chance for thirteen years, and he hasn't taken it. In fact, he's done nothing but helpful acts, none of which were obligatory."

"That's just it!" Lisa exclaimed. "I'm not denying that he's done a lot for us, but the dependence and praise are out of hand. Stopping runaway trains, holding up collapsing buildings—the things he does are very easy for him, and he's indestructible, for crying out loud. He's never actually risking anything."

Except his time and sanity, but...whatever.

"I'm not saying we should consider him a criminal, of course not, but we can't let ourselves be blinded by the shiny altruism. We should be cautious."

Juggernaut turned it off and watched that screen go dark. Yes, he thought bitterly, I suppose you should be.

Not even a minute later, the door handle jiggled.

Juggernaut stared at it. He was in a random conference room instead of the Marvel meeting room, at nine in the evening instead of a conventionally reasonable time, solely because he wanted to be left alone. Evidently, he'd become predictable. Kristen walked in, and following her was the head PR team, Emika, and Fox, who took one look at the screens and immediately turned away to prevent a headache.

"You shouldn't be watching this," she said.

"I'm preparing," he countered, but he turned the rest off.

They settled around the table, pulling out folders or laptops. One was even setting up a whiteboard. Kristen gathered up his cards—in the completely wrong order, but it was his fault for chaotically spreading them out like that—and moved the stack aside.

"We've got a lot to discuss," Fox said, cleaning an invisible speck off her glasses. "Kristen, do you want to start?"

Juggernaut was still holding one card, and he turned it around in his hands as he listened to them go back and forth. He glanced at his pager every now and then in case there was a mission to check over.