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Jess would be the first to admit it: going back to the private gig has its ups and downs. Among the ups, certainly, is the lack of life-and-death and the-world-hangs-in-the-balance kinda situations. Sure, there’s some truth to that once an Avenger, always an Avenger thing; she’s still paying attention to the bigger picture, keeps up with her friends and former colleagues. But really, on the whole, Jess has been overdue for some honest, down to earth detective work. Like this case: a weeping grandmother looking for her grandson, Mario, who had gone missing all of the sudden a few weeks ago. Jess is still going to make a difference. She’s just helping people one at a time now.
The clues lead her to Jersey City. She doesn’t think the kid got abducted – so far, all signs point towards a voluntary absence from the group home he ran away from. Jess can relate, sort of; she wasn’t in the system, but the need to get the hell away from whatever shitty situation you’re stuck in is familiar. The old lady seemed genuinely upset, and so Jess decided she’s going to chase him down, find out what sent him running, and then she’ll figure out whether or not grandma dearest will get to know where her grandson went, and why he left in the first place. He’s not the only one who booked it either – the other kids she talks to keep going on about a movement and about how friends or acquaintances began to babble about paying their dues and making the world a better place. It all adds to the uneasy feeling that has taken residence in Jess’ gut: someone or something is manipulating these kids, she’s pretty sure. A cult, maybe. She hopes she’ll catch up with them before any actual sacrifices are made.
The house the (venom-aided, so sue her) interviews led to is ramshackle and looks abandoned at first sight, although on closer inspection she can see some signs of recent squatting. If the kids were here, they aren’t anymore. Jess tries not to assume the worst. She rifles through the place for additional cues, doesn’t find any, keeps on looking a little longer anyway before she gives up and makes to leave. Back home, she’ll dig into the records on the property. Maybe knowing who the last owner was can give her a new lead.
She’s not prepared to run into company when she climbs out of the debris-filled basement.
The girl – dark-haired, sourly expression, raised eyebrows, hardly more than a teenager herself – stares at Jess with her arms braced on her hips. With her, she’s got a… well, technically it’s a dog, Jess supposes. But it’s way overgrown; it towers over both Jess and the girl by several inches, and Jess would bet the meager contents of her bank account that the mutt doesn’t belong to a breed that can be found anywhere on this earth.
Jess levels her with a glare of her own. “Who’re you?”
“I should ask you that,” the girl fires back. “I’m not the one breaking and entering a recent crime scene.”
Ah, so much for not imagining the worst in regard to the kids’ fates. Jess shoves the bad feeling that’s taken up residence in the bit of her stomach aside and makes a mental note to stay far, far away from missing kid’s cases in the future. But the girl seems to know what happened here, so aggravating her won’t help Jess case.
“I’m a private detective, currently working for the grandmother of a missing boy. Jessica Drew, nice to meet you?”
“No way.” The girl’s face lights up, and she shifts her stance, leans forward a bit. “As in, Spider-Woman?”
Secret identities sure must have been nice when they were still a thing. Then again, if it’s giving her an in with a potential witness, Jess won’t complain. “The one and only.”
“That’s so cool!” She nudges the monstrous, possibly-alien dog, and the mutt licks its lips, slobbering. “I’m Kamala, and this is Lockjaw. The kids were here, long story, but we got them out. We won.”
“You won?” Jess inquires. “What? Against whom? What happened here?”
Kamala steps closer, looking around as if to ensure no one’s listening. The dog follows her, keeping a steady distance between the two of them, as if he’s guarding her. Definitely alien. “There was a scientist, who used them as human batteries. Also, he was a birdman. He died in his robot.”
If Jess ever manages to squeeze the whole story out of the kid, it sure promises to be interesting. But she can get that out of police records if need be, so story time isn’t a priority for the moment. “Where are these kids now?”
“I thought they all went home,” Kamala says, the excitement fading from her expression. “That boy you’re looking for, he’s still missing?”
“Yeah,” Jess confirms. ”His grandma hasn’t seen him in a month. He used to live in a group home and she visited him regularly, but he hasn’t checked in there either.”
Kamala sighs, then nods solemnly, more to herself than to Jess from the looks of it. “I’m going to help you find him.”
And yeah, no. Jess has enough on her hands with one missing kid; she doesn’t need to babysit another one while she looks for him. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. You could get hurt.”
“That,” Kamala says, now back to grinning, “is less of a problem than it used to be.” Before Jess has the opportunity to ask what the hell that means, Kamala glances around again, the dog mimicking her in a way that would be funny if Jess didn’t find it creepy as hell, and then she holds her hand up in front of Jess’ face. And it… grows. By several sizes.
“What the fuck.” Given her previous occupation, Jess shouldn’t be surprised anymore when she runs into yet another gifted kid, but somehow, the sensation never loses its shine. “Who are you? What are you?”
Kamala shrinks her hand down to regular size. “I’m Inhuman, apparently. Terrigen mist, you’re familiar with that? It gave me powers. At first, it made me turn into Captain Marvel – you know, looking like her, but I haven’t done that in a while. Also I can shrink and embiggen, as you saw, and I have a healing factor. So, uh. Me getting hurt isn’t going to be that much of a concern. Plus I helped free these kids and – “
“Stop right there.” Jess holds up a hand, massages her temple with the other. She lost track of that ramble just around the mention of Carol’s mantle. It happens sometimes, her name throwing Jess for a loop. Probably a side effect of your best friend sort of exploding and subsequently forgetting you. “Inhuman, huh? The mutt, too?” She points at the dog, which slobbers some more. If he were human, she’d say he was grinning. “And also, before I make any decisions, I need you to tell me what happened here. Everything that happened, no blanks.”
“Okay,” Kamala says, petting her dog. “Deal.”
***
“And then you all went out for gyros?” Jess asks, stuck between disbelieving and amused. Teen heroes, seriously.
Kamala nods, smiling, and sends a glance backwards to her dog; it’s trailing along behind them, and Jess can feel its stinky breath at her neck. Creepy. “We did. Lockjaw too. Gyros for heroes.” Her face falls again, grief washing over it, probably guilt, too. “That’s the last time I saw most of them. Maybe I should’ve checked. Make sure they all got home safe, wherever home might have been for them.”
“Honestly, that’s what the police is for, right?” Jess has opinions on missing kids and sloppy police work, and a recurrent correlation between the two. “They should have followed up. You’re just a teenager, you did more than enough by getting them out. Don’t blame yourself.”
“I dunno,” Kamala replies. She shrugs and then stops dead a few steps later, reaching out to touch Jess’ shoulder. “Look, we’re here.”
Here appears to be the ruins of a former lab, judging from the pieces of science equipment still sticking out from the wreckage. It doesn’t seem to have been cleared beyond the most unstable debris. Jess spots a few broken glass tubes, approximately human-sized, and thinks about what Kamala said earlier. Human batteries. She shudders.
As leads go, though, it seems to be a dead end. “I don't think we'll find anything useful here. I'm going to snatch the police report, see if I –“
“You know,” Kamala says, the earlier eagerness replaced with a solemn, pensive expression, “a few of the others gave me their phone numbers. We could call them, see if anyone knows where he went.”
It's certainly a more entertaining prospect than sweet-talking (okay, venoming) her way into the good graces of a Stark Industries tech and having them hack the police records. Jess nods.
“Okay, let's do that.”
***
Two of the kids Kamala called moved back home and thereby out of the city, and have therefor been moved to the end of the list – Kamala did mention that her mutt can teleport, but Jess would rather treat that as a last resort, thank you very much – and a third seems to have had a change of heart and basically told them to go screw as Kamala put it. The fourth and last possible witness is a girl that pretty much already volunteered to spill her beans on the phone, but Jess insisted they meet. Long story short, they're currently sitting in a small cafe in Jersey City, waiting for the girl, Katelyn, to show.
"I still don't get why you had me cut her off on the phone," Kamala complains, sipping her iced tea through a straw.
"Because it's important to see people's faces when you interview them." Jess eyes her own latte; they poured it from a box of instant coffee and whisked skimmed milk into it. She expects it to taste like liquefied card board. "Gestures, micro expressions. There's so much a voice over the phone won't give you."
Kamala nods, puts on what she probably considers her earnest-and-professional face. It's kinda cute. "Got it. Micro expressions. Makes sense."
That's when Katelyn rounds the corner and waves at them; at least Jess assumes it's her, seeing how Kamala rises from her chair and waves back. She walks over to their table and takes the seat she's being offered.
"So good to see you again!" she says by the way of hello, looking at Kamala like she's a bit starstruck. "I just wish it would be for a happier reason."
Jess takes that as her cue. "So, you said you might know where Mario is?"
"Yes, maybe," Katelyn replies. "We were... not friends, exactly, but we hung out with the same people, before all this." Her eyes lose focus, flit around the cafe. Bad memories, it's not an unusual reaction. "I know he hated his group home, and that he has friends in New York. Not a bad crowd, per se, no drugs or anything. They've all been in the system, and they share a place. Some of them have work, some others, well. Found other ways to come by their share of the rent."
Jess has been around street kids enough to know how to interpret that; she's pretty sure Mario didn't get mixed up in something and book himself a vacation behind bars, and so she doesn't need to know the details. "And he was going to stay with them?”
Katelyn nods. “Last I know, yes.”
“Can you give write down their names? An address, if you have them? Anything that helps us locate the place.” Jess unearths a notepad and a pen from her bag and shoves it across the table; Katelyn does as she's told. They say their goodbyes, Jess looking on awkwardly as Kamala and Katelyn hug and exchange promises to totally call again, I swear.
Once they're alone, Kamala inclines her head and crosses her arms in front of herself. “When you said we would locate the place, you actually meant you're going to go alone, right?”
“You're a smart girl,” Jess says. “I'm very grateful for your help, but I'll take it from here.
Kamala heaves a sigh. “I'm not actually a hapless teenager, you know.”
“Yes, I do know.” They've known each other for nothing more than a couple of hours, but Jess doesn't doubt it. The girl's young and inexperienced, but smart and eager to learn. She's going to be good at this. “But if you run off to New York with me, who's going to keep an eye on your city?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Kamala looks at her sidelong. There's a comeback circulating through her brain, an argument to the contrary; it's basically written on her forehead. But it doesn't make its way past her lips. Instead, she grabs the notepad that's still lying on the table and scribbles a phone number on it.
“Let me know how it goes? Whether you find him or not?”
Jess pushes her chair back and stands, extends her hand to take the notepad back. “I will. I promise.”
***
A week later, the case is wrapped and Mario reunited with his grandma, and Jess finally gets a reply to the message she sent to outer space the day after she went to Jersey City. She texts Kamala with a time and an address, squashes any inquiries as to her reasons for the invitation with just come, you won’t regret it and counts on the girl’s curiosity. This is going to be so much better if it’s a surprise – and also, the disappointment won’t be less if Carol can’t make it. Because, well. For one, it’s Carol, and then, you know, outer space. Appointments with space travelers aren’t an exact science.
Kamala is all but bouncing on her feet when she arrives, fifteen minutes early and wrapping herself around Jess as soon as she opens the door.
“What is it?” she asks. “Tell me, tell me, tell me! An adventure? Do you want me to help you on another case? Ohh, I can’t wait!”
“Not exactly.” Jess grins. “Come on, sit down, I’ll get us a drink. Soda okay?”
Kamala nods, her eyes glowing with excitement. The lack of furniture and the hole in the wall doesn’t seem to bother her as Jess leads her into the, for lack of a better word, living room. She’s got her laptop set up on a crate and has put out a few mats in front of it, and Kamala lowers herself down onto the ground without complaining. Jess leaves her there as she gets two soda cans from what used to be the kitchen, taking her time, checking her watch before she joins the kid in front of the laptop and hands her a can. It’s almost time.
To Jess’ relief, the comm line she set up pings to live right on cue. There’s static, and some crackling, but then Carol’s face materializes on the screen. Kamala sucks in a breath, her gaze suddenly pinned to the laptop, and lowers her soda away from her face in slow motion.
“That is,” she starts, eyes flickering to Jess, then back to the screen. “You are –“
“Captain Marvel,” Carol confirms, her smile warm and bright like Jess hasn’t seen it in a while. Proud. “Yep. That’s me. I’m very pleased to meet you, Kamala.”
Jess stands, squeezing Kamala’s shoulder once as she rescues the half-empty can from where Kamala has set it down, and leaves them to it. She’ll chat with Carol later, in private. For now, she falls back, watching the marvelous ones talk shop, Kamala gesturing widely and Carol laughing loud enough that it carries through the whole apartment.
Jess isn’t the type to pat her own back, but yes, this was definitely a good idea. Best one since she moved out of the tower. She’s full of those, lately, it would seem.